A Good Day for Chardonnay

Darynda Jones returns to Del Sol with the same breakneck energy that made the first book so enjoyable. Sheriff Sunshine Vicram is settling into her role, but settling is a relative term when your town produces bizarre crimes at an alarming rate and a dangerous fugitive is lurking somewhere in the surrounding desert.

The multiple storylines are handled with impressive dexterity. Jones juggles a fugitive hunt, a string of peculiar local incidents, and Sunshine’s increasingly complicated personal life without ever dropping a thread. Each plotline feeds into the others in unexpected ways, and the connections only become clear as the book hurtles toward its conclusion.

Sunshine continues to grow as a character. The confidence she lacked in the first book is building, though Jones wisely keeps her imperfect and occasionally in over her head. She makes mistakes, second-guesses herself, and relies on her team in ways that feel authentic to anyone who has ever held a position of authority while quietly wondering if they deserve it.

The humour remains sharp and plentiful. Jones has a gift for dialogue that sounds natural while being funnier than any real conversation. The banter between Sunshine and her deputies crackles with the easy rhythm of people who genuinely enjoy each other’s company, and the townspeople deliver scene-stealing moments with delightful regularity.

Del Sol deepens as a setting. We see more of the town’s history, its fault lines, and the complicated loyalties that bind its residents together. Jones treats small-town life with affection but not sentimentality — she understands that tight-knit communities can be both supportive and suffocating.

The Levi Ravinder subplot advances significantly, and Jones handles the romance with the same balance of heat and restraint that characterised the first book. The tension between Sunshine and Levi is rooted in genuine conflict rather than manufactured misunderstanding, which makes their scenes together crackle with real stakes.

The fugitive plot provides a sustained undercurrent of danger that gives the book more edge than its predecessor. Jones is not afraid to put her characters in genuine peril, and there are moments where the comedy falls away entirely to reveal something raw and urgent underneath.

Jones’s pacing remains one of her greatest strengths. She knows instinctively when a scene has done its work and moves on before anything outstays its welcome. The result is a book that feels both substantial and swift, covering a lot of ground without ever feeling padded.

The emotional core of the book centres on Sunshine’s relationship with her daughter, Auri. Their dynamic is one of the most convincing parent-child relationships in contemporary crime fiction — messy, loving, and complicated in all the right ways.

A Good Day for Chardonnay proves that the first book was no fluke. Jones has created a series with real staying power, anchored by a protagonist and a setting that only become more engaging with familiarity. Pour yourself a glass and settle in — this series has legs.