ARC Review – Saddle to Sunup by Emmy Sanders
⭐️⭐️⭐️ (3/5 stars)
I picked up Saddle to Sunup with high expectations. I’ve always loved Emmy Sanders and am a sucker for a childhood friends-to-lovers story. Unfortunately, this one didn���t work for me in the way I’d hoped despite some truly beautiful moments.
The writing itself is strong, polished, and emotionally expressive. The intimate scenes between Lawson and Oakley are tender, vulnerable, and incredibly well written. Their physical chemistry is undeniable, and the author excels at capturing longing, familiarity, and the weight of shared history. The sex scenes, in particular, are some of the most emotionally charged in the series, and they alone carry this book to a solid three stars for me.
The biggest problem for me was the absence of meaningful conflict. From very early on, Lawson and Oakley feel emotionally aligned and essentially “together.” There is no real resistance, uncertainty, or obstacle (internal or external) that challenges their relationship. They want each other, they choose each other, and everyone around them supports it almost immediately. There was very little angst, push-and-pull, or emotional risk.
While all three books share the same setting, Saddle to Sunup asks for a very different level of believability. In book one, Jackson is already out, and Ash arrives as an outsider. Their relationship largely unfolds within the safety of the Darling Ranch, away from public scrutiny. The town’s reaction is minimal, which works because it doesn’t need to carry narrative weight.
Lawson’s story is totally different. He’s a divorced man in his forties, with a teenage daughter, who ends a long marriage and then drives all the way to Kansas to bring his childhood friend back to his town. The people of the town/his family say nothing. There is no adjustment period, no awkwardness, no gossip, no quiet resistance, no generational tension. Everyone is immediately affirming and supportive. While this may be comforting for some readers, it felt deeply unrealistic to me. Acceptance doesn’t have to come with cruelty—but it usually comes with complexity. There was none of that!
My biggest emotional struggle with this book was the handling of Lawson’s ex-wife, Laura. Laura is frequently framed as an obstacle, a source of misunderstanding, or someone who “didn’t get it.” The narrative mostly tried to imply that Laura failed to understand and comfort Lawson. I mean, how do you do that when Law himself is still figuring things out (for decades, actually)
There are moments where the framing is especially troubling, such as:
Oh good God. I’ve never been a violent person, but I have the sudden and desperate urge to find Laura and shake the woman. Compatible sexually or not, she couldn’t see to her husband’s own comfort?
— whether you’re gay or straight everyone deserves to set boundaries and do only things that they’re comfortable in an intimate situation.
Lawson’s late-in-life awakening is treated almost entirely as a personal journey, with very little reckoning for the emotional cost to the woman who spent nearly two decades of her life with him. While self-discovery at any age is valid, the lack of visible remorse or accountability made it difficult for me to fully empathize with him. Statements like:
“I don’t owe it to anyone. To explain myself.”
— Laura may not be owed every detail of Lawson’s inner life—but she was owed honesty, care, and compassion after building a life with him for so long.
Maybe I’m alone in this but Laura is also a victim here. She’s a normal person who likely experienced years of emotional and physical disconnect without understanding why. Expecting her to have solved or accommodated a truth Lawson himself hadn’t yet uncovered places an unfair burden on her.
There’s a scene where Lawson says why can’t he hug Oak while Laura hugs and talks with all her friends? Yes, men need to be more affectionate with each other but unfortunately it’s not a reality yet! Lawson wasn’t physically affectionate with many people (say his friends/brothers). He was deeply attached to Oak alone. That’s a very different dynamic than simply “having close friends.” Comparing Laura’s closeness with her own friends to Lawson’s exclusive bond with Oakley isn’t an equal comparison, especially given how men are socially conditioned around intimacy. Of course, Laura felt irked by Law and Oak’s friendship and it felt reasonable in my mind.
Another confusing element was Stevie. Despite being Oakley’s ex, Stevie remains a constant presence in the narrative, yet is never fully explored or contextualized. Their role feels oddly undefined—traveling alongside the story without much clarity about what actually happened between them or why that relationship ended. What stood out to me was the contrast in how gently Stevie is treated compared to Laura. Stevie is afforded patience, grace, and understanding, while Laura is repeatedly positioned as the person who “didn’t understand” or “not happy with anything.” The imbalance felt intentional but not well-justified.
I don’t regret reading this book, and I still appreciate Emmy Sanders as an author. Her writing remains beautiful, and the intimacy between Lawson and Oakley is undeniably compelling. But this installment didn’t resonate with me the way her earlier work has.
I’m glad if this book brought comfort to readers who want comforting, healing romance. I just wish it had offered more depth, balance, and realism along the way.