If you’ve ever walked through Harlem and felt like the brownstones were whispering secrets, you’ll get why A Love Song for Ricki Wilde by Tia Williams feels so visceral. It’s not just a book. Honestly, it’s a vibe, a mood, and a very specific kind of heartbeat that only Williams seems to capture. She did it with The Seven Days in June, and now she’s back, weaving this strange, gorgeous tapestry of 1920s glamour and modern-day hustle.
Most people expect a straightforward romance. They’re wrong.
Ricki Wilde isn’t your typical "girl moves to the big city" protagonist. She’s the daughter of a wealthy, rigid family in Atlanta, a girl who breathes flowers and impulse. She’s too much for them. She’s "too loud" in her spirit. So she flees to a crumbling brownstone in Harlem to open a flower shop. Then, things get weird. In a good way. In a "is that man actually from 1924?" kind of way.
The Harlem Renaissance Isn’t Just History Here
Williams doesn't treat the Harlem Renaissance like a dry social studies chapter. It's alive. When Ricki meets Ezra Blair, the connection isn't just "sparky"—it’s cosmic. Ezra is a jazz musician, but he’s also a ghost of sorts, or at least a man out of time.
The book leans heavily into magical realism. You have to be okay with that to love it. If you’re the type of reader who needs a logical explanation for every shimmering portal or strangely timed encounter, you might struggle. But if you’ve ever felt like you belonged to another decade, A Love Song for Ricki Wilde will feel like home. The way Williams describes the scent of night-blooming jasmine mixing with the grit of a New York subway is just... chef's kiss.
It’s about the "Leap." Every February, during a leap year, the veil thins.
It’s a bit trippy.
Basically, Ricki is trying to find her footing in a world that wants her to be a "Blue Blood" socialite while she just wants to make magic with peonies. Then Ezra shows up. He's handsome, sure, but he carries the weight of a century. Their love story is less about "will they, won't they" and more about "how can they possibly exist in the same reality?"
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Why the "Love Song" Metaphor Actually Works
Music is the backbone of this novel. It’s in the title for a reason. Tia Williams writes prose that has a rhythm—sometimes it's fast-paced like a bebop solo, other times it’s slow and achey like a blues ballad.
She tackles the heavy stuff too. It’s not all flower petals and jazz clubs. She looks at the "Talented Tenth," the Black elite, and the suffocating expectations placed on women who want to create rather than just perform "status." Ricki’s family represents the old guard—respectability politics, "good" hair, "good" matches. Ricki is the disruption.
A Love Song for Ricki Wilde by Tia Williams works because it refuses to be one thing. Is it a romance? Yes. Is it historical fiction? Sorta. Is it a ghost story? In a way.
The Mystery of Ezra Blair and the 1920s Connection
Let’s talk about Ezra. He is the quintessential "brooding hero," but with a layer of tragic mystery that makes him feel more substantial than a typical book boyfriend. He’s stuck. Literally. The narrative jumps between the 1920s and the 2020s, showing how the echoes of the past never really stop bouncing off the walls of Harlem.
The 1920s sections are lush. Williams captures the frantic energy of the Prohibition era—the speakeasies, the velvet, the smell of gin and desperation. It contrasts sharply with Ricki’s modern world of Instagram marketing and gentrified Brooklyn cafes. Yet, the soul of Harlem remains the same. That’s the point Williams is making. The neighborhood is a character that refuses to die, much like the love between the two protagonists.
Some readers might find the magical elements a little confusing at first. You've gotta lean into the "woo-woo" aspects of the leap year. Once you accept the rules of the world Williams has built, the emotional payoff is massive. It’s about the things we inherit—not just money or property, but trauma, joy, and maybe even a destiny we didn't ask for.
What Most People Get Wrong About This Book
People see the pink cover and think it’s "beach read" fluff. It’s not. It’s actually quite dense and emotionally taxing at points.
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- The Family Dynamics: The relationship between Ricki and her sisters is complicated. It’s not just "mean girls." It’s a study in how family can love you and still try to kill your spirit.
- The Pacing: It’s a slow burn. The magic takes a while to truly reveal its teeth.
- The Ending: No spoilers, but it isn't a "neat" ending. It’s beautiful, but it lingers. It makes you want to go back to page one and look for the clues you missed.
Ricki herself is a masterpiece of a character. She’s messy. She makes bad calls. She’s impulsive. But her passion for her craft—her flowers—is so beautifully rendered that you can almost smell the shop she builds. She treats floral arrangement like alchemy. In her hands, a bouquet is a spell.
A Note on Tia Williams’ Style
If you read The Seven Days in June, you know Williams is the queen of the "smart, sexy, slightly tortured" vibe. She doesn’t write down to her audience. She uses words like "stentorian" and "ephemeral" without sounding like she’s trying too hard. She knows her audience is well-read and wants more than just a surface-level plot.
In A Love Song for Ricki Wilde, she pushes her own boundaries. She experiments with time. She experiments with the idea of what a "soulmate" actually is. Is it someone you meet, or someone you’ve always known?
It’s also deeply funny. Ricki’s inner monologue is gold. She’s self-aware about how ridiculous her life is, which makes the more fantastical elements easier to swallow.
How to Get the Most Out of the Reading Experience
If you're diving into this for the first time, don't rush. This isn't a book to skim.
- Listen to a 1920s Jazz Playlist: Seriously. Put on some Duke Ellington or Bessie Smith while you read. It sets the stage for the Ezra chapters.
- Look Up Harlem Landmarks: A lot of the places mentioned, or the versions of them, have real-world counterparts. It grounds the magic.
- Pay Attention to the Flowers: Every bloom Ricki chooses has a meaning in the Victorian language of flowers. Williams didn't pick them at random.
- Keep a Box of Tissues Nearby: The middle section is a bit of a gut punch. You’ve been warned.
The book explores the idea of "belonging" in a way that feels incredibly relevant to anyone who has ever felt like the "black sheep" of their circle. Ricki’s journey isn’t just about finding Ezra; it’s about finding the version of herself that doesn't need to apologize for existing.
The Verdict on the Magic
Is the time-travel/magical realism bit too much? For some, maybe. But if you’ve ever sat in an old building and felt the presence of everyone who lived there before you, it won't feel weird at all. It will feel like the truth.
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Williams handles the "Leap Year" mythology with enough grace that it doesn't feel like a cheap plot device. It feels like a natural extension of the setting. Harlem is a place where history is layered so thick you can practically trip over it.
A Love Song for Ricki Wilde by Tia Williams is a testament to the idea that love isn't just a feeling—it’s a force of nature that can rip through time if it has to. It’s a celebration of Black joy, Black history, and the sheer audacity of a woman who decides to bloom on her own terms.
Your Next Steps
If you’ve finished the book and are feeling that "book hangover" (we’ve all been there), here’s how to move forward.
First, go back and re-read the first chapter. Now that you know the "secret," the opening pages take on a completely different meaning. It’s wild how much Williams hides in plain sight.
Second, look into the history of the "A’Lelia Walker" era of Harlem. Williams draws a lot of inspiration from the real-life Black royalty of the early 20th century. Understanding the real-world wealth and social structures of that time makes Ricki’s family history even more fascinating.
Finally, check out the author’s back catalog. If the emotional intensity of Ricki and Ezra worked for you, The Seven Days in June is a mandatory follow-up. It deals with similar themes of hidden pasts and intense, fated connections, but in a completely different setting.
Don't just let the story sit. Think about your own "Leap." What would you do if you had the chance to step out of your own time? Ricki Wilde chose to bloom. Maybe you should too.
Actionable Insight: To truly appreciate the depth of Ricki's floral shop, research the "Language of Flowers" (Floriography). You'll find that the specific bouquets Ricki creates for her customers often reveal their secrets before they ever speak a word. This adds an entirely new layer of storytelling to your second read-through.