Scythe & Sparrow (The Ruinous Love Trilogy, #3) by Brynne Weaver 
Series: The Ruinous Love Trilogy #3
Published by Ace, Zando on February 11, 2025
Genres: Contemporary
Pages: 416
Format: eBook
Source: Amazon
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Discover the serial killer romance series everyone is talking about!From the no.1 New York Times bestselling author of the genre-breaking international TikTok sensation
Butcher & Blackbird
and
Leather & Lark
comes the final book in the Ruinous Love Trilogy - a friends-with-benefits dark romantic comedy.
Murder.
Mayhem.
And spice.
Doctor Fionn Kane is running from a broken heart, one he hopes to mend in small-town Nebraska, far away from his almost-fiance and his derailed surgical career. It's a simpler head down, hard work, and absolutely no romantic relationships. He wants none of the circus he left behind in Boston.
But then the real circus finds him.
Motorcycle performer Rose Evans has spent a decade on the road with the Silveria Circus, and it suits her just fine, especially when she has the urge to indulge in a little murder when she's not in the spotlight. But when a kill goes awry and she ends up with an injured leg, Rose finds herself stuck in Nebraska, at the home of the adorably nerdy town doctor.
The problem is, not every broken heart can be sewn back together.
. . . And the longer you stay in one place, the more likely your ghosts are to catch up.
***
Friends with benefits Small town romance Fish out of water Forced proximity Hurt/care Touch her and die
I enjoyed this more than I thought I would.
As part of the Silveria Circus, Rose Evans travels all over the country performing on her motorcycle and reading Tarot cards and meeting all kinds of people. She is also known as the Sparrow by women in abusive relationships looking for help to get out. When they arrive at a small town of Hartford, Nebraska, she is doing a tarot reading for Lucy, while her controlling husband watches. This time, the Sparrow decides she wants to take things into her own hands and gets Matthew Cranwell’s ID, tracks him down to his farm and attempts to get rid of Lucy’s problem permanently. Unfortunately, Matthew gets the bat from her and manages to break her leg before she takes out his eye.
Rose ends up breaking into a local clinic and passes out before Dr. Fionn Kane arrives. He gets her to the hospital where they set her leg but the show must go on and the circus has to leave town before Rose is released, especially since Rose won’t be able to perform again until her leg heals. Fionn doesn’t know why but he feels for Rose and brings her to his house to recuperate.
Fionn left Boston after the woman he loved refused his proposal and dashed all the dreams Fionn had of the perfect life he was supposed to live. So he ran off to this small Town in Nebraska to lick his wounds and mostly workout at the gym or crochet with the local women’s group. Having Rose live with him has thrown his life into the turmoil he has always avoided, but he actually doesn’t really mind too much, even when Rose asks him to help her hide a body. Something must be wrong with him or maybe deep down he is more like his brothers than he wants to admit to himself.
THOUGHTS:
We met Rose and Fionn over the course of this Ruinous Love Trilogy and I wasn’t certain if I was going to like this last book. I loved Rose. She was a sweetheart. Maybe it is her life on the road meeting all types of people, but she is a people-person. Even though she is on crutches, Rose manages to get around town, getting to know the whole town of Hartford. She even goes so far as to introduce Fionn to some of his neighbors who he hasn’t bothered to walk outside and meet.
In the prior stories it was Fionn that comes off as a drama queen running away all because his girlfriend said no to his proposal. That was it. No murdered fiancé. No cheating. She said No, thank you to a handsome doctor. Why? No idea. It didn’t have to do with his childhood, or his murdery brothers. She said no thanks and he ran off to Nebraska. So I thought the whole thing was as ridiculous as his brothers’ did. He even seemed to use this as a reason not to get into a relationship with Rose but in this book that parts comes off a little different.
But, when we finished discussing the stupid reason Fionn was in Nebraska and just enjoyed his time with Rose, it turned out to be a good story. Although I will say that while Blackbird was a perfect serial killer of serial killers and Lark had killing child predators in bizarre ways down pat, Rose wasn’t great at the killing aspect of her desire to help women escape the abusive situations. Apparently she did what she could to get them free, with one exception, when she tried to up the stakes to murder–not really her thing and not just because the blood and gore makes her gag. She should leave the harder parts to the experts.
This is the end of the Ruinous Love Trilogy but there is a epilogue which features a character who we met in Book 1 and I am wondering if that was brought in to be a spin-off book/series.
Favorite Scene:
The conversation is still churning when Rose taps Sandra on the arm and pushes her crochet work towards her for inspection. “Do you think this yarn will be strong enough?”
I take a sip of my lemonade, trying to swallow the dread that’s crept up my throat as Sandra scrutinizes Rose’s pattern with a furrowed brow. “That depends,” she says. “What are you making, dear?”
“A sex swing.”
Lemonade shoots up my nose and burns. I cough and sputter my way through what would otherwise be a moment of suspended silence. But that only lasts for a blessed few seconds before I’m surrounded by a flurry of voices that tosses me into an alternate reality.
“You’ll need a softer heft for that. Maybe try the MillaMia merino.”
“You might want to consider a tighter crochet stitch.”
“Is it for you?” Maude asks without looking up. “Or does it need to take a weight for an adult man? Like, say”–her eyes flick to me–“maybe the doctor’s size?”
I drag a hand down my face as though it will scrape away my blush. “Jesus, Maude–“
“I don’t know,” Rose says as she looks toward the ceiling, tapping her lip with the end of her crochet hook. “Maybe…? I’m not sure.”
“What about Tencel bamboo yarn? Soft and strong.”
“Did you find a pattern?”
Rose shrugs. I die a little. “I was just going to wing it.”
“I have a pattern for a pot hanger,” Liza chimes in, pulling her bag onto her lap so she can rummage through the contents. She finds a magazine and flips it open, pointing to a photo of a crocheted hanging planter. “You could use this, maybe made leg holes right here. Ooh, and what about an extra pair of hanging handles and ankle braces?”
Sandra leans over to scrutinize the pattern, adjusting her reading glasses. “My Bernard could make you a wooden frame. It’ll have to be good and strong, don’t want something like that collapsing when you’re taking it for a ride, you know?”
“Yeah,” Rose says, taking the magazine from Liza, her smile barely subdued, her eyes glinting with amusement as they flow over the page in her hands. In a sudden flurry of motion, she tosses it in my direction and it smacks me in the face, falling open on my lap. “What do you think, Doc?”
I should probably give her a sharp glance, a cutting look. Say something about how I’m technically still her doctor, or at least offer a bland and noncommittal response. But as I look down at the photo of the crocheted hanger, I can actually picture it. Picture her. Her tongue leaving a trail of moisture across her lower lip. Her legs spread wide. Those dark eyes of hers, full of desire, feral with need for my–
“So? Think it’ll work?”
When I look up, it’s the first time I see a glimmer of apprehension flash across Rose’s face. I clear my throat, the trace of a burn still lingering from the lemonade. “I think…” I trail off, drawing out her doubt before I finally give her the barest hint of a conspiratorial smile. “I think you should use a thermal stitch for the base. It’s sturdy. Could support the weight of a six-foot-four adult male. Theoretically.”
Rose’s eyes dance in the morning light that streams through the blinds. “Even all Beast Mode muscley?”
I swallow a laugh as I set the magazine aside and resume my stitches. Though I try not to blush, I’m probably failing judging by the heat coursing through my skin. “I mean, theoretically.“
There’s a single beat of silence, and then the women around me cackle. Thought it takes a minute for my smile to really break free, it still does when I spot Maude dabbling at tears with the tissue she always keeps folded beneath her bra strap, or when Tina wheezes “sex swing” and laughs so hard she has to shuffle to the bathroom.
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