Let’s begin with the positives. This book is a whirlwind of activity, moving at a brisk pace that makes it incredibly easy to digest. It's the kind of read you can pick up when you need a lighthearted escape from deeper, more intense novels. As a cosy mystery, it offers a familiar structure peppered with a few twists. Interestingly, I stumbled upon this book as part of a promotion, which is why I jumped in at book 10 of the series. Fortunately, the narrative stands alone well enough; while there are nods to events from earlier instalments, prior knowledge isn’t necessary to enjoy the story.

However, numerous aspects left me feeling disappointed. The main character, Cinnamon, embodies an excessively sweet disposition that feels painfully one-dimensional. Rather than endearing her to me, her overtly sugary nature quickly became grating. Her relationship with her husband teeters on the edge of saccharine overload, and by the book's conclusion, I found myself cringing at their nauseatingly sweet exchanges, almost feeling the need for a sugar detox. 

The author really loves similes—an abundance of them, to be precise—which added an overwhelming layer of description that I found more distracting than delightful. In terms of plot, the improbabilities piled up: in this small town, do really all the residents indulge in pies to such an extent that it raises questions about their health? It felt hard to believe that an entire community would be so obsessed with Cinnamon’s baked goods. Moreover, the outrageous situations Cinnamon finds herself in stretch realism to its limits, especially considering there’s a distinct lack of genuine tension throughout the story. Just as the narrative starts to build any suspense, it evaporates far too swiftly.

In the end, I can appreciate why some readers find comfort in this series; it simply doesn’t resonate with me. Though I have cherished many cosy mysteries in the past, this one didn’t quite hit the mark for my tastes.