Carole V. Bell

These five queer romances are the perfect blend of swoon-inducing and serious, balancing delicious escapism with examinations of thorny issues such as family expectations, the grieving process and the corrosive influence of the British class system.


 The Queer Principles of Kit Webb

Set in Georgian-era England, Cat Sebastian’s The Queer Principles of Kit Webb takes a charming, gratifyingly original perspective on love across the class divide. The titular Kit is a gruff retired highwayman-turned-coffee house proprietor who truly despises the aristocracy. Edward Percy Talbot, Lord Holland, is one of the British class system’s greatest beneficiaries. A dandy and marquess, Percy is the heir to a prosperous dukedom held by one of England’s most notorious abusers of aristocratic privilege and power.

Kit is skeptical when the conspicuously costumed and brazenly flirtatious popinjay starts to haunt his coffee shop on a daily basis. Percy’s position in the world is more precarious than one would expect, however, and he approaches the disillusioned highwayman to do one last job. Their mission: steal a book that Percy’s father keeps on his person at all times, one whose contents will provide leverage and financial security for Percy, his stepmother and his infant half -sister.

Kit retired after his last job went wrong, incurring a serious injury and losing his best friend and partner. Because of this, he trains Percy to take the main role in the heist, putting them in close physical proximity.

Their sexual tension is a living, breathing thing on the page, but mercifully, Sebastian doesn’t leave them in want for long. And there’s plenty of sparkling dialogue to go with their physical connection. Kit has very clear opinions about the privilege Percy is fighting to protect, and their conversations about class and politics are uniformly excellent and fascinating. Kit Webb will surprise and delight not only fans of Sebastian and queer historical romance but also readers who are new to both.

—Carole V. Bell

Hard Sell

Hudson Lin’s intricate, weighty Hard Sell follows the ramifications of a sexy one-night stand. A business acquisition reunites private equity investor Danny Ip and finance guru Tobin Lok seven years after the childhood friends finally gave in to their mutual attraction. Danny is interested in buying and shutting down WesTec, a buzzy tech startup. As an independent financial consultant, Tobin has been tasked with helping WesTec avoid bankruptcy, or at the very least, making sure Danny doesn’t undervalue the company in order to make a profit. The spark between them remains despite the time and distance—but so do the complications around their potential romance, which extend beyond Tobin’s tricky professional position.

When they were growing up, Tobin’s tightknit family was big and meddlesome, but it was also a bastion of safety and belonging to Danny, who was Tobin’s older brother’s best friend. As an only child whose single mother was constantly working, Danny thought the Loks’ house was heaven. But for Tobin, the youngest son with a desperate crush on Danny, his family’s “well-intentioned smothering” was and remains difficult.

Lin creates a loving, traditional family with the Loks, but she also shows their tone-deaf attitudes toward Tobin’s life as a gay man in a very real, palpable way. Tobin’s mother calls regularly, and his brother sends photos of Tobin’s nephew. Tobin yearns for acceptance beyond superficial inclusion, but he has no idea whether a potential relationship with Danny would make things better or immeasurably worse.

Much is at stake for these men, who have banked their love for one another for nearly a decade. But when Danny and Tobin finally give in to their hearts, the result is euphoric.

—Dolly R. Sickles

 Satisfaction Guaranteed

When Cade Elgin travels from her New York City home to Portland, Oregon, for her aunt’s funeral, she’s totally unprepared for her inheritance: her aunt’s sex-toy store, which is on the verge of bankruptcy. Cade is a careful, conservative businesswoman, with no room in her life for shenanigans or the wacky gold lamé preferences of her fellow funeralgoers. Fortunately, her new business partner-in-inheritance, Selena Mathis, has the passion and whimsy to balance Cade’s business prowess. Having taken a self-imposed oath of celibacy after some relationship troubles, Selena doesn’t want anything to do with the unexpected attraction she feels for Cade.

Oregon writer Karelia Stetz-Waters employs humor like a finely trained chef, sprinkling in lighthearted moments precisely when heavier topics require a little levity. Death, inheritance and responsibility are weighty conversations for any new romantic duo, but Cade and Selena’s ability to synchronize with one another is remarkable. Satisfaction Guaranteed is a standout romance with humor, heart and two characters who step out of their comfort zones together.

—Dolly R. Sickles

How to Find a Princess

Alyssa Cole returns with the second installment of her Runaway Royals series, How to Find a Princess, and it’s just as fun, smart and challenging as last year’s How to Catch a Queen. Readers can count on this series to deliver total immersion into a sweeping, romantic alternate reality and intelligent, complicated female characters.

Beznaria Chetchevaliere is an investigator for the World Federation of Monarchies, and she’s searching for Makeda Hicks, the lost heir of the idyllic kingdom of Ibarania. Decades ago, Makeda’s grandmother had a hot summer fling with the then-heir to the throne, Prince Keshan. The pragmatic Makeda is thrown by this information, which reveals that a family tall tale is not only true but also potentially life-changing. She’s already reeling from recently losing her job and her girlfriend, so seeing the magic in her potentially royal lineage feels impossible; rather, it seems like a solemn, daunting duty she never asked for.

Cole’s allusions to the animated 1997 film Anastasia will delight fans, and anyone fascinated by the story of the Romanov princess will be tickled, but Cole’s take on the lost heir mythos is a more mature tale with hefty stakes.

—Dolly R. Sickles

 Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake

In Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake, Alexis Hall (Boyfriend Material) explores contemporary class and societal expectations through believable characters who struggle with substantial pain and self-doubt.

Rosaline is a bisexual woman with a privileged pedigree. Both of her parents are highly successful doctors, and she grew up in one of London’s most affluent districts. But after a surprise pregnancy during her time at Cambridge, she’s now a doting mom who makes delicious baked creations with her precocious 8-year-old daughter, Amelie.

Competing on the BBC’s popular baking competition show “Baked Expectations” could be Rosaline’s ticket out of financial disaster. But even though she rejected the path her parents chose for her, Rosaline hasn’t managed to throw off the values and expectations they inculcated in her. When she arrives at the competition to find it full of potential love interests, she sees them through a class-based filter. Rosaline may stand up to biphobia, especially around her daughter, but she also repeatedly, reflexively upholds class and gender biases. For example, she deems her lovely co-star Harry off-limits because of his working-class accent and profession.

Despite the heavy subject matter, this rom-com provides a cornucopia of cringey, laugh-out-loud moments. Its combination of social insight and comedy makes for a surprisingly twisty tale. (Rosaline has multiple love interests, and it’s not clear who she will choose for large swaths of the story.) This complexity also means that the central romance doesn’t get as much page time as one would expect. The scenes between Rosaline and her eventual soul mate are gorgeous but scarce, which might leave some readers wanting more. Nonetheless, Hall’s creation is a joy—a deeply emotional and ultimately rewarding story about a woman finding her true path and true love, surrounded by delicious baked goods on a BBC soundstage.

—Carole V. Bell

These queer romances have the perfect balance between sweet love stories and substantial issues like grief and class.

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These contemporary romances are ensconced in the world of professional athletics and fitness, but emotional lifting takes greater precedence than squats.

In The Dating Playbook, the second rom-com in Farrah Rochon’s knockout Boyfriend Project series, a personal trainer with a struggling practice teams up with a high-profile former NFL player facing multiple hurdles to give him a second chance at playing pro ball.

Taylor Powell has always felt like the black sheep in her high-achieving family. While her siblings soared, school meant suffering and panic attacks for Taylor. She squeaked by in high school, but her lack of college degree has been the deciding factor in several lost professional opportunities. Now she works as a personal trainer and has a tight circle of female friends, a sisterhood of women (introduced in The Boyfriend Project) who all learned through social media that they were dating the same sad-sack, low-rent player. And yet, despite their generosity and support, their professional prowess exacerbates her feelings of failure by comparison, a situation made worse by Taylor’s undiagnosed ADHD.

Jamar Dixon, on the other hand, is used to being a star. He excelled at football and got a dream job playing professionally right out of college. But an injury in his first season cut his career short. Taylor’s relative anonymity will help Jamar keep his training a secret, away from the prying eyes of the press and the public pressure to come back better than ever. And apart from the overdue bills that this lucrative gig will help Taylor pay for, being the architect of a successful comeback for a football star could be just the career-making boost she needs. To make sure Jamar’s training remains a secret until he’s ready to return and she’s ready for the spotlight, they agree to pretend to date in order to throw everyone off the scent.

It’s a great setup and well executed, with each character scratching just the right itch for the other. They both have a lot riding on their professional partnership and ample reason to keep it under wraps. Like the best rom-com couples, Taylor and Jamar are much more than the sum of their individual parts. They’re absolutely lovely together, making Rochon’s choice to have the friend group play a lesser role in this installment a wise one. The Dating Playbook is a gentle and relatively low-angst romance that makes a great comfort read in stressful times.

The comedy is a bit broader and the chemistry is more volatile in Alexis Daria’s crazy, sexy, cool second-chance romance A Lot Like Adiós.

After a young lifetime of being badgered and bullied by his parents, Gabe Aguilar was desperate to get out of the Bronx and away from his judgmental and domineering father. In an act of defiance, unbeknownst to Michelle Amato, his best friend and next-door neighbor whom he always had a crush on, Gabe applied to UCLA, got a scholarship and left everything behind, including the friendship that sustained him for most of his life. Thirteen years later, Gabe is a physiotherapist and co-owner of a successful Los Angeles gym called Agility. Michelle and Gabe are thrown together again when Fabian, Gabe’s business partner, sees a splashy marketing campaign that Michelle designed and recruits her to work on the launch of their first East Coast branch.

Gabe and Michelle have a ton of unresolved sexual tension, and they’re both curious about and longing to see each other. The main challenge, apart from the fact that he thoroughly ghosted her in order to make a fresh start in LA and never really explained why, is that Gabe isn’t ready to deal with being back in New York. Even beyond his issues with his family, not knowing how to push back against other people’s expectations has long been a problem for him.

Michelle’s terms for accepting the job include Gabe staying with her on this trip, so they can hash out their differences. She wants closure, so she engineers a little forced proximity to force the issue. To say that the scheme works is an understatement. Gabe and Michelle share a connection that is instinctual and hot like fire—not just habanero or scotch bonnet hot, but ghost pepper hot. In the bedroom, at the zoo, in the basement gym, everywhere they go, there’s heat. Daria masterfully blends that steam with character building and emotional connection from the start. Their love scenes are nothing short of spectacular, full of communication and creativity as well as physical spark.

Daria portrays Gabe with particular sensitivity. His character is specific and concrete, his wariness, dysfunction and emotional pain palpable on the page. In an effectively cringeworthy scene, Gabe’s worst fears come true when he and his father finally come face-to-face. It’s tender but also funny in a Larry David-esque way, excruciating and human all at once. Unfortunately, the story skims over his path to healing, narrowing the steps Gabe takes to mend his psychological wounds to one significant epiphany with not much in the way of follow-up. Readers’ mileage may vary when it comes to the resolution and HEA, which lean hard on embracing the love and support of family, making it almost sound like a miracle cure. It’s a curious note in an otherwise truly irresistible arrangement.

These contemporary romances are ensconced in the world of professional athletics and fitness, but emotional lifting takes greater precedence than squats.

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Thiago Alvarez lost his wife, Vera, in a tragic accident. He may also be losing his mind. In powerfully immersive first-person, stream-of-consciousness prose, Gus Moreno’s debut novel provides an inside view of a grief-stricken husband’s worst nightmare that may or may not be his own fault.

This Thing Between Us feels like a fever dream but is written like a one-sided conversation between Thiago and his late wife. Drowning in guilt and incredulity at how everything fell apart in an instant, Thiago tells Vera his troubles, recounting what’s happened since she died and reexamining the tragic events that led to her death. How did their life unravel so quickly? Was their advanced smart speaker really an instrument of torture? The device seems to have had a will of its own—or maybe it was possessed. Or maybe this is all Thiago’s fault—his family’s curse, his destiny. Maybe, he thinks, Vera’s mother was right about him all along.

A few months before Vera’s death, events began innocently enough. Thiago and Vera’s smart speaker (“Itza”) played music without their request, which could’ve been a glitch. Odd packages arrived, even though they hadn’t placed any orders. They heard mysterious sounds in the walls. And then, most portentously, an alarm clock didn’t go off as it should’ve, throwing Thiago and Vera’s schedule into chaos and placing Vera in the exact wrong place at the worst possible time. Now Vera’s gone, and Thiago is lost. And that’s just the beginning.

Leave the lights on! We picked seven books for Halloween reading, rated from slightly spooky to totally terrifying.

There’s no question that this novel delivers the fright. Bodies drop. Violence springs up seemingly out of nowhere. Moreno will drop the sword on anyone or anything at any time. But the most surprising and challenging aspect of This Thing Between Us is that it’s as emotionally taxing as it is terrifying—a novel of domestic conflict and suspense as well as horror. The first-person conversational style forces the reader to adopt Thiago’s perspective, as hallucinatory as it may be, and it’s easy to feel as overwhelmed in grief and confusion as he does.

It doesn’t really matter whether or not Thiago’s horrors involve malevolent possession. What matters, he realizes, is the effect of this haunting: “The point of possession was to make us despair. To see ourselves as animal and ugly. It was hard to see myself any other way.” The question that dogs Thiago (and readers) is what it will take to be rid of this deeply burrowed discontent.

There’s no question that this novel delivers the fright, but it’s also as emotionally taxing as it is terrifying.
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In Jai Chakrabarti’s debut novel, A Play for the End of the World, a play by Bengali writer Rabindranath Tagore is a magical and malleable symbol, used to help children accept a dark reality and as a tool for resistance.

When Holocaust survivor Jaryk Smith was a child living in a orphanage in the Warsaw Ghetto during the Nazi occupation of Poland, The Post Office represented the possibility of hope. In the children’s production of the play, Jaryk played Amal, a little boy with an incurable disease who’s confined indoors but makes the most of what he’s got: a window. Amal makes friends at a distance and gleans vicarious joy from watching others play.

Through the play, Jaryk and his fellow orphans experienced a kind of liberation by imagination. But while the other children’s relief was temporary, Jaryk had the life-altering fortune and burden of becoming the orphanage’s lone survivor. Unlike his fellow orphans, unlike almost everyone else he had known in his short life, Jaryk got a chance at a long life. 

A Play for the End of the World primarily focuses on what happens next, how new life takes root after extreme ruin. Chakrabarti frames recovery and renewal as a long and winding road, requiring more than a little grace and serendipity. For a long time, connections are difficult for Jaryk, relationships almost impossible. He experiences the world as though he’s wrapped in thick, protective insulation. He has big feelings but they’re subdued or self-censored. 

Then in 1972, Jaryk’s oldest friend, Misha, a man 10 years his senior who lived and worked at the orphanage when Jaryk was a child, dies unexpectedly while traveling alone in India for a production of The Post Office. Jaryk is tasked with taking Misha’s place as director, and the play provides him with another shot at redemption. “I finally have a chance to do something good,” he tells his weary girlfriend, Lucy Gardner. 

Whereas “in Warsaw, The Post Office helped to prepare the children for death,” this production has a radically different agenda. In Gopalpur in West Bengal, where the people are poor and the territory disputed, the production’s organizer, professor Rudra Bose, sees the famous play as a political tool: “It’s all about a new life. About resistance!” But while political unrest is the novel’s frequent backdrop, its most recurring theme is stubborn resilience: living fully in the face of sorrow, loving after immeasurable loss.

Chakrabarti’s novel is realistic and tentative and breathtakingly poignant, with a payoff that’s more than worth the trip if you have the heart to withstand it.

Jai Chakrabarti’s debut novel is breathtakingly poignant, with a payoff that’s more than worth the trip if you have the heart to withstand it.
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Rwandan-born Namibian writer and photographer Rémy Ngamije’s sharp-witted and incisive debut, The Eternal Audience of One, paints a revealing portrait of its peripatetic protagonist and the many places he’s called home.

Séraphin Turihamwe’s family fled Rwanda for Kenya in the midst of genocide and eventually landed in Namibia. Throughout Séraphin’s story, spanning many years and several countries, Ngamije vividly captures the life of a man for whom the idea of home is “a constant source of stress, a place of conformity, foreign family roots trying to burrow into arid Namibian soil that failed to nourish him.”

Despite the cultural specificity, many readers will recognize the intergenerational conflicts and warring emotions at the center of this bildungsroman. Séraphin feels guilty about his ambivalence toward his family, wondering if “his desire to be distant from [them] marked him as an ungrateful son.” His sense of identity and his place in his family and future are all up in the air. What he knows “for certain, though, was how easy he breathed as soon as his family was behind him, when the adventure and uncertainty of Cape Town lay ahead.”

Ngamije brilliantly explores the irony in Séraphin’s identities. He’s a displaced Rwandan who feels most himself in Cape Town, South Africa, a place that doesn’t welcome Black immigrants. He’s also soon to be a graduate of law school but doesn't want to practice law. For Séraphin, pursuing his law degree was a compromise, the best of many boring but socially acceptable options for an East African kid with ambitious, educated parents.

Ngamije is as adept at conveying family drama as he is at portraying Séraphin’s days as a university student, where he is immersed in the uneasy multicultural cacophony of Cape Town. Though Séraphin’s early years were nearly touched by tragedy, his present-day life is filled with all the humor, sex and drama typically associated with coming-of-age stories.

The novel is told in close third person, with flashbacks from formative moments in the past interspersed with scenes in the present day. Séraphin is an incisive, funny and keen social observer, so inside his head is a fine place to be, whether he’s thinking about the girl he wants to sleep with or the problems of his adopted home. The story unfolds through a collection of scenes with little trajectory, all revolving around Séraphin’s social life, his friends and the women he dates, to explore racism and social hierarchies. As socially aware as Séraphin is, his inner circle and dating pool rarely include Black women. His mother is nearly the only Black woman he knows.

Ngamije’s writing is beautiful, his observations original and precise, his sense of place unsurpassed. The plot is less developed, but flaws don’t detract from this gorgeously imperfect first novel. Séraphin’s experiences depict a fascinating, multidimensional and culturally and politically damning version of post-apartheid Cape Town. Every bit of insight, succinctly and humorously presented, will cause readers to stop and think. Ngamije displays copious talent and an authentic and elegant literary style in this striking debut.

Rémy Ngamije’s narrator, Séraphin, is an incisive, funny and keen social observer, so inside his head is a fine place to be.
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In a society obsessed with genetic perfection, any difference is a cause for concern. In the midst of a gorgeous love story about childhood friends reunited, Nalini Singh’s Last Guard beautifully depicts both the perils of that obsession and its alternative: a world in which difference can be strength.

Canto Mercant and Payal Rao were born into two of the wealthiest and most influential Psy families, but with privilege came a dangerous fixation. To their families, any variation is weakness, and no weakness is tolerated. When a child shows signs of being atypical in any way, they’re shuttled out of public view. Canto has limited use of his legs, and Payal has been traumatized by her brother’s physical abuse; her ensuing rage results in her being labeled mentally and emotionally unstable. Canto and Payal are both shipped off to an out-of-the-way boarding school. As “7J” and “3K” respectively, they’re subjected to terrible abuse and their lives are assumed to be unworthy of preservation.

Amid this nightmare, the two brilliant and beautiful children form a friendship, creating an unbreakable bond through small acts of kindness. In a glorious moment of defiance, Payal saves Canto from a teacher who was on the verge of killing him. The teacher dies in the melee, families are contacted, and the children removed. But Canto and Payal never forget one another. Canto’s father subscribed to toxic, eugenicist ideas of perfection, but his mother’s family, who takes him in after he leaves school, holds no such beliefs. Nurtured by the tightknit Mercants, Canto gains fierce love, protection and the best medical care. He even gains another family after he’s embraced by his cousin Silver’s Changeling mate, an alpha bear shifter named Valentin, and his rambunctious clan. But he never stops searching for 3K.

Payal returns to her father, who considers her defective and only values her as a better alternative to his violent and psychopathic son. She endures by leaving all emotion behind, rising to the position of CEO in the family business. Outwardly cold, contained and inscrutable, she’s painfully isolated and constantly fighting to stay in control. When she’s diagnosed with life-threatening brain tumors, necessary medication is meted out in small increments to keep her in line and under her father’s thumb.

The eventual reunion of these two souls would be more than enough to sustain any novel. But Singh also seamlessly intertwines wonderfully precise discussions of disability into Canto and Payal’s evolution from childhood friend to adult lovers. Ableism is not just challenged; it’s trounced as Canto and Payal talk candidly about the tools and adaptations they use to survive and thrive. Last Guard also goes deep on efforts to save the crumbling PsyNet, the psychic network in which Canto and Payal play an essential role, so while strongly recommended for its life-affirming love story, Last Guard is best enjoyed if readers are already fully immersed in Singh's Psy-Changeling lore. For readers with a firm grounding in the previous books, however, slipping back into the Psy-Changeling world in Last Guard will feel like coming home.

For readers with a firm grounding in the previous books, slipping back into the Psy-Changeling world in Last Guard will feel like coming home.

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Explosive, long-buried family secrets lie at the heart of Malla Nunn’s vivid and arresting Sugar Town Queens, but so do friendship, hope and the promise of love.

Aptly named for the Zulu word for power, Amandla Harden is a bright and empathetic biracial girl who lives with her unstable white mother, Annalisa, in a tidy one-room shack on the outskirts of Durban, South Africa. Their daily life is a balancing act. Amandla manages their household and the vicissitudes of her mother’s fractured mind while also having typical teenage experiences. She worries about how to make their food money last but also thinks about university and wonders if a cute boy will ever look at her the way she can't help but look at him. It’s a precarious existence, but she’s mostly made it work.

Then around her 15th birthday, Amandla finds a mysterious note and a large wad of cash among her mother’s belongings and decides to investigate what Annalisa has been hiding for so long. The quest turns both of their lives upside down as Amandla opens herself up to new friends and turns to neighbors for support.

As Amandla explores her mother’s connections to an entirely different world from the one Amandla has grown up in, Nunn takes readers into intimate spaces within vastly different sectors of a very stratified and segregated society. Along the way, the novel effectively explores the contradictory racial dynamics of contemporary, post-apartheid South Africa.

Nunn paints an especially grounded and nuanced portrait of life in the townships. Danger lurks around the corner in this ramshackle, hardscrabble place, but the crowded lanes are also full of complicated people who care about and take care of each other. Annalisa and Amandla’s home comes alive on the page—the good, the bad, the ugly and the merely human.

Nunn’s evocative storytelling will make you ache for Amandla. She is a complex creation whose circumstances are sensational but whose journey is relatable. Nunn surrounds Amandla with a diverse cast of characters who are similarly interesting and strongly developed. The novel’s hard truths about race and class are more than balanced by the love of all types that Amandla experiences. These supportive relationships are the most rewarding part of Sugar Town Queens, the glue that holds it all together.

ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Malla Nunn reveals the personal memories she drew on to create Sugar Town Queens.

Explosive, long-buried family secrets lie at the heart of Malla Nunn’s vivid and arresting Sugar Town Queens, but so do friendship, hope and the promise of love.

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The funny and sharp fourth novel by acclaimed Bangladesh-born British author Tahmima Anam, The Startup Wife, exposes the folly of looking for leadership in the startup sector, which reveres disruption in all areas except its own.

In this brilliantly incisive social novel, a quasi-faith community springs from a social media platform called WAI, short for “We Are Infinite.” WAI uses an algorithm to design personalized rituals based on three meaningful elements of a person’s life—and then introduces that person to a like-minded community.

It’s easy to see why WAI would be appealing. Its rituals fill the void many modern-day people feel in the absence of organized religion. The platform's essential concept is that if we treat something as sacred, we believe that it is more than entertainment, that it offers moral rewards and is worthy of rigorous contemplation. (Listeners to the "Harry Potter and the Sacred Text" podcast will find this idea familiar.)

But first, the novel begins with a love story: Thirteen years after high school, Asha Ray reunites with her crush, Cyrus Jones, when they attend a memorial for their late English teacher. Asha is four years into her Ph.D. at Harvard, and Cyrus has become a charismatic spiritual polyglot. He’s traveled the world, collecting bits of philosophy and religion from an endless variety of sources, and distilled them into something people can use in their own lives. “I create rituals,” he says.

Cyrus and Asha’s intellectual connection is intense, and soon, so is their physical relationship. The novel focuses on their all-encompassing, interconnected work-life partnership, which also includes, to a lesser extent, their best friend, Jules. When Asha’s artificial intelligence research hits a roadblock, she draws inspiration from Cyrus’ work and decides “to start a platform that [allows] people without religion to practice a form of faith.” Through Asha’s programming wizardry, WAI becomes a life-changing phenomenon. But it quickly becomes clear that the platform, intended to bring people together, is likely to blow the triad apart.

The Startup Wife is framed as a satirical novel about startup culture, but because Americans revere that culture, its foibles and failings are our failures, too. Tech investors subscribe to the “great man” theory of history as much as the rest of America, and this unavoidable fact begins to spoil Asha’s relationships with her two male partners. Investors are more apt to provide valuable exposure and support to a passion project fronted by a brilliant (usually white) man rather than a geeky brown woman. So even though Asha’s research is the source of the platform’s Empathy Module algorithm, handsome Cyrus becomes the figurehead for WAI. Initially resistant to making his spiritual practice into a business, he is easily seduced into playing CEO and messiah.

While The Startup Wife is full of beautifully messy and enviable characters, Asha’s fierce feminism and candor stand out. Of course, she’s far from innocent. She’s a creative genius who wants her due, just as any man would. But it’s a delight to experience Asha’s first-person perspective of the world and her metamorphosis into a powerful, flawed woman.

Because The Startup Wife is sexy and funny and puts relationships at the forefront, it might be easy to overlook its depth and sophistication. But its priorities are right where they should be. When people create a community with their friends and lovers, it is inevitable that boundaries will dissolve and that friendship, love, ego and identity will become intertwined. The Startup Wife’s insights about modern relationships, gender politics, race, technology and culture are as excellent and vital as its storytelling.

Tahmima Anam’s funny, sharp novel exposes the folly of looking for leadership in the startup sector, which reveres disruption in all areas except its own.
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A captivating, thought-provoking, glamorous deep dive into the politics of celebrity culture, race and relationships, The View Was Exhausting doesn’t so much straddle the line between general fiction and romance as obliterate it.

At the center of the storm are two beautiful young people. British actor Whitman “Win” Tagore is a rising star “with deadpan delivery and a skill for stealing a scene even when she [is] the character with the least lines.” Talented, focused and sharp, Win earned her first major award nomination at an early age, yet this acknowledgment of her skill “triggered a new wave of suspicion about her ambition, her ruthlessness.” Win has learned to be cutthroat in managing her image since she doesn’t get the second chances or benefit of the doubt that her white counterparts do.

Youthful, not-quite-bad boy Leo Malinowski, in contrast, has enjoyed every benefit of the doubt. He’s the peripatetic playboy son of a supermodel and a multimillionaire hotel mogul whom the public loves to watch. But his life isn’t perfect. He’s got daddy issues, and while he harbors dreams of doing something substantive with his love of art, he never takes the leap: “Being reminded that there were people eager to see Leo succeed only seemed to make him more wary of starting.”

Initially, Win and Leo are a match made in publicity heaven. Win’s recently been through a bad breakup, and being with Leo transforms her into an object of envy rather than scorn. And being with Win helps Leo generate media attention for his father’s hotels.

The first week they spend together reveals combustible chemistry on camera, as well as a strong attraction and mutual understanding when the cameras are off. This temporary fake-dating scenario becomes a seven-year-long public relations scam that reactivates whenever one of them needs a career boost, though the lines between strategy and obsession are continually blurred.


ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta go behind the scenes of their jet-setting new romance.


Through Win and Leo’s complicated, inconvenient arrangement, married co-authors Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta explore the juxtaposition of privilege and marginalization that surrounds celebrities who sit outside of the dominant culture. The novel raises implicit questions about the pressure to maintain a palatable public persona, and why a talented, beautiful star would need to engage in a fake relationship. Clements and Datta get the racial, gender and political undercurrents just right, delivering a powerful and clear-eyed analysis of the toxic media culture that makes it hard for a woman of color to stay on the good side of public judgment. For a British woman of Indian heritage like Win, the margin of error is so narrow as to be nonexistent; having a desirable white partner like Leo makes her more palatable to white audiences. The race-inflected dynamics of Leo and Win’s relationship are also all too real. Leo’s misunderstanding of how Win’s identity shapes her experience is poignant and painful.

The one thing Clements and Datta don’t quite deliver is the romantic payoff. Though the authors effectively deploy many romance tropes, the beats of the novel’s ending may be unsettling or unsatisfying to some romance readers. Between the artifice, the time between encounters and Win’s protective shield, their romance holds more anger than intimacy, more turmoil than tenderness, and ultimately more pining than joy. Their happy ending is more of a brief glimpse than a full, rapturous swoon. Still, readers who want to sink into a Hollywood exposé will find much to admire in this high-wire celebrity romance.

A captivating, thought-provoking, glamorous deep dive into the politics of celebrity culture, race and relationships, The View Was Exhausting doesn’t so much straddle the line between general fiction and romance as obliterate it.

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The epic on-again, off-again love story of actor Whitman “Win” Tagore and wealthy playboy Leo Milanowski is beloved by tabloids and Twitter users alike. Too bad none of it is real. Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta, the Berlin-based married couple who wrote The View Was Exhausting, took BookPage behind the scenes of their jet-setting new romance.

Can you tell us about the premise of The View Was Exhausting? Where did the idea for this novel originate?
It began in the summer of 2016, when pop culture gossip seemed to be particularly packed with celebrity romances. A big question and suspicion in the media was whether or not these relationships were real or whether they were there to drum up attention. But rather than speculating on what was real and what wasn’t, we wanted to say, “OK, it isn’t real. What’s that like?” We wanted to delve into the emotion and intimacy of that kind of fake relationship, as well as how it would feel to orchestrate your own summer romance.

Fake dating has always been one of our favorite romance tropes, and in this context it seemed like a great opportunity to combine it with another favorite trope: best friends falling in love! Along with that, we were interested in the way a massive celebrity story might share smaller and more intimate truths about people and relationships. 

The book takes place in a rarefied world of jet-setting playboys and A-list Hollywood stars, but through Whitman’s experiences, it also explores what it’s like being a woman of color in that male-dominated world. How did you approach this story? Is it grounded in fantasy, research, personal experience or a combination of all three?
Realistically, all of our gleeful consumption of pop culture in the decades before writing this counted as research. In terms of actual research into celebrity culture, we weren’t so concerned with technical authenticity and logistics. We just don’t care that much about how a yacht party actually works or how to conduct a photoshoot in a rented castle, and we’re not very worried about misrepresenting that side of things. Famous people will just have to live with our misguided ideas! 

Instead, we were invested in two things: real emotions and vibes. We wondered how it would feel to be in that situation, under the limelight, obsessively monitored. We also wanted a deeply lush novel that you could dive right into. The celebrity backdrop gave us the aesthetic experience we wanted, and we had a very active and frequently updated mood board in our heads that fueled a lot of that creative thought. It felt more important that the novel feels hugely visual and claustrophobic at once, rather than getting bogged down in daily schedules and legal details.

If any luxury hotels want to take us on a belated research trip to St-Tropez to correct our ignorance, we will dutifully accept.

In terms of how we prepared to explore the sense of being a woman of color in a male-dominated world, we read very widely. There are lots of women of color working in the film industry now who speak very honestly and intelligently about their varied experiences, which we’re grateful for. We drew on interviews with and pieces from and about Constance Wu, Priyanka Chopra Jonas, Parminder Nagra and Viola Davis, among others—including men, like Utkarsh Ambudkar. And of course, we also drew on our own experiences of the world as a mixed-race couple. We worked on the assumption that women of color deal with similar obstacles, whether they’re famous or not. The same issues of being perceived and being exploited felt close to home.

"Do you owe your viewers authenticity or just really good content? How much do people want to see the truth, and how much do they just want to be entertained?"

Scandal, ruin and image management are fascinating topics, both in the world of celebrity media and within the genre of romance. In some ways the concepts seem quaint, and yet scrupulous reputation management is still mandatory for public figures. What made you take this on? Were you inspired more by real-world scandals or fiction about celebrities?
We were inspired by real-world scandals, particularly because of how relatable they felt. Scandal is obviously inherent to the celebrity domain, but reputation management feels like something that everyone in our generation and younger is concerned with now. Whether there’s 10 people or 10,000 reading your Twitter, you worry about how you’re coming across. In that sense it felt like a universal theme that we were interested in tackling.

We’re also really interested in the potential that image and reputation management offers, as something if not exactly positive, then not exactly negative either. There’s something fascinating and appealing about the idea of refashioning yourself, kick-starting a new identity. When we started writing The View Was Exhausting five years ago, the conversation around social media was very judgmental and misogynistic—it was the era of mocking Valley girls taking selfies—and we were interested in the idea of returning intelligence and ambition to the equation. Having a character who still ultimately sees social media as a trap but also as a tool—and attempts to find a balance between the two.

Another point of interest for us was the monetization of reputation, the way that image is so commercialized now and how it’s a legitimate form of celebrity to just be really good at crafting your self-image and making yourself aesthetically appealing. For us it became a moral question: Do you owe your viewers authenticity or just really good content? How much do people want to see the truth, and how much do they just want to be entertained?

A really useful influence when we were writing Win was Jia Tolentino’s essay “The Cult of the Difficult Woman” in her book, Trick Mirror. She talks about how appearing “badly” can sometimes be just as useful to a public figure as appearing well, something we drew on when working out how Win would react to public shifts in opinion. 

"We wanted their relationship to feel like sneaking into the back of a party with your best friend, laughing as you pass a bottle of wine back and forth."

One of the many striking things about the novel is how specific and relatable Win is despite the glamour. We see her layers and how she acquired her gloss. Since the age of 20, Win has effectively tried to split herself into two, putting her complicated, angsty and unruly self behind her and putting forth the strategically immaculate image of Whitman Tagore, a professional actor who never loses control and never puts a foot wrong. How did you develop Win/Whitman?
We started, crucially, from her relationship with Leo. In terms of characterization, both Win and Leo began wrapped around each other—then they spiraled out from there. That meant that as writers, the first person we met was Win, because—for the most part!—that’s who she is with Leo. It felt like we had to start with the kernel of Win and then use that kernel to create a public and professional persona that was also true and also her, but just in a much more deliberate and constrictive way. 

The history of Win’s ascent to fame and her relationship with celebrity was something that we came up with well after we’d sketched out Win’s character and figured out the relationship dynamics between her and Leo as well as other significant figures in her life. In some ways it was like filling in blanks, in others it was like adding layer upon layer onto her character, in the same way that Win herself lives her life as several different layers of Whitman Tagore. 

Fake dating creates forced proximity that allows chemistry to take flight, but the flip side is that both Win and Leo are so adept at performing that their haircuts are strategized and tumbles in the sand are staged for maximum impact. With the question hanging over their relationship of what’s real between Win and Leo and what’s being put on for others, what ultimately makes them work as a couple?
We think it’s that they are best friends. There’s some instinctive thing that they understand about each other, some moment of recognition in that initial spark of their first meeting. They both stick out to each other as someone incredibly different from everyone else that they already know; it’s this weird happy amazement, like, oh my God, who is that!!!! 

The moments of fun and glee between them were also really important. We wanted their relationship to feel like sneaking into the back of a party with your best friend, laughing as you pass a bottle of wine back and forth. There’s just a sense of sheer amazement about the other one for both of them: finding someone who knows you so well and is so fascinated by you all the same, like there’s always something new to learn, some new trick to pull, some new game to play. 

This is the first novel for both of you, but you’ve each published short stories and nonfiction before. Can you tell us a bit about your other writing and how this book evolved from the work you’ve done previously?
We’re quite slow writers, so we’ve been working on this novel for about five years, and the other writing developed alongside it rather than beforehand. We both really enjoy switching between genres and delving into different ideas. Because a novel is such a huge, time-consuming project and yet at the same time is dealing with a relatively limited subject, writing short stories and nonfiction was a way for us to explore other avenues or genres or concepts or characters who didn’t exactly fit in The View Was Exhausting—like horror, queer romance or dystopian worlds—without losing focus on the novel. 

We both read widely, and neither of us are particularly disciplined writers. We always work best when we’re working on something we’re interested in at the moment. That means our writing can veer in different directions depending upon the flavor of the month. In fact, it was telling for us that we’d stumbled into a novel that was actually going to go somewhere when we never lost interest in The View Was Exhausting! Some threads that you’ll find in our short stories, nonfiction and the novel are: sunsets as existential terror, elaborate meals, kissing, an obsession with Middlemarch and Hemingway, fog wreathing around your ankles.

What is the writing process like for you, both as individuals and in terms of writing together? Do you divide the tasks in a particular way? How do you ensure continuity of voice when writing with a partner?
In terms of writing the novel, we start out by planning together. We might not always know exactly what’s going to happen all the way through to the end, but we each know just as far as the other does. There are no surprises. Then we take turns writing, sometimes stopping mid-scene and sometimes taking it all the way through to the end of a chapter. 

After a long time spent co-writing, we’ve developed quite a shared voice, but beyond that, if Onjuli writes a scene, Mikaella will edit it heavily, and vice versa. We’re both big believers in multiple drafts, so by the time The View Was Exhausting went to our editor, we had both written and rewritten each scene four or five times each, to the point that each person’s writing really intertwines with and permeates the other’s. It’s difficult even for us to remember who wrote a particular sentence.

We try not to divide tasks, but there are definitely scenes or themes that each of us is individually drawn to. One of us might be thinking a lot about a particular idea and ask if they can have a crack at it first. Or on the other end of the scale, there might be a scene we know is going to be difficult, and one of us draws the short straw and has to give it the first shot. But at least then we can give up ownership immediately after finishing it and be like, OK, now you fix it! 

Writing individually is obviously a different kettle of fish . . . but there are similarities, namely that the other person is always waiting in the wings to edit when required, if not reading along as we go!

Were there particular challenges or surprises that came with writing a love story with your spouse?
Honestly, our writing lives have been intertwined for as long as we’ve known each other (nearly a decade now). We’ve always written back and forth. When we first met, we had to be long distance for a while (Mikaella is Australian, Onjuli is British), so writing in shared universes and picking up the thread of the other one’s story where it left off was a way for us to be connected and have a mutual hobby even when our lives were separated by 10,000 miles and an 11-hour time difference.

Of course, sometimes we disagree about which direction the story should go. But those debates tend to make a plot stronger, because we have to convince the other person before we can start writing it, and we can point out plot holes to one another early on. Most of the challenge comes in the copy editing stage, when one of us firmly believes a comma shouldn’t be there and the other one is prepared to die for that comma.


ALSO IN BOOKPAGE: Read our review of The View Was Exhausting.


Is it difficult to separate your personal and professional lives while collaborating in this way, especially during a pandemic?
We had finished writing The View Was Exhausting before the pandemic hit, although we were still working on a last round of edits. And we’re working on a new novel now, so we have been writing together during the pandemic. It’s a mixed bag. In some ways it’s given us more time, and because we can’t travel, we have been very focused. But a global crisis is pretty distracting, and like everyone, we’ve been impacted. Outside the realm of writing, things like family and work have been really hard, but generally we feel very lucky to have day jobs and a home setup that allowed us to switch easily to work-from-home life.

Like anyone, we try to leave work when we close our laptops at the end of the day, but at least when we “bring work home” it tends to be pretty fun! Our main writing tactic is to follow whatever we’re interested in, and if we’re interested, we’re going to talk about it in our personal time, too. Some of our best ideas have come up chatting over dinner, and we have character notes in our phone that we wrote at midnight in a bar. Most writers probably can’t make an exact division between the personal and the professional; it’s the nature of the job, and at least we have somebody else just as happy to talk about our characters’ latest crisis with us!

Are there any authors or books in particular who inspired or influenced The View Was Exhausting, either within or outside of the romance genre?
Jane Austen is our guiding romantic star. There’s actually a line in the novel that echoes Mr. Darcy’s declaration, so keep an eye out if you’re also a fan! As we mentioned, Jia Tolentino was an interesting critical voice, and Nora Ephron was a more modern rom-com influence.

But to be honest, most of the fictional influence for The View Was Exhausting came from outside of the realm of books. We were deeply influenced by the early 2000s heyday of romantic comedies, especially My Big Fat Greek Wedding and Katherine Heigl’s oeuvre. We were also following in the footsteps of some of the many brilliant British Indian films: Bend It Like Beckham, East Is East, Anita and Me. There’s a really rich tradition of British Indian media, especially in comedy and romance, that Onjuli grew up watching—and that, along with many family in-jokes, definitely made its mark on the novel.

What are you reading right now or have you read recently that you’d recommend?
One of Mikaella’s favorite pandemic hobbies has been running a book recommendation newsletter: four new favorites every month, organized by theme, and it’s been encouraging both of us to read more widely and find some great gems. 

If nothing else, the pandemic has been great for reading! We’ve been ticking off classics—War and Peace is really good, who knew?—and enjoying books by Frances Cha, Torrey Peters, Jamie Marina Lau, Eliza Clark and Claire Vaye Watkins, among others. We’ve also been really into the poetry and essays of Nina Mingya Powles. 

 

Author photo by Mario Heller.

Mikaella Clements and Onjuli Datta go behind the scenes of their jet-setting new romance, The View Was Exhausting.

Review by

True enemies-to-lovers romances are both less plentiful than many readers would like and extremely hard to execute. Too much hostility and things can get ugly; too little tension and the whole thing fizzles. Demand for this popular trope tends to outstrip supply. But where others falter, An Extraordinary Lord handily succeeds, in large part because of its original premise. Its leads are natural enemies with real skin in the game and the stakes are sky-high.

Loosely inspired by the Spa Fields Riots, an intriguing bit of British political history in which activists advocating for electoral reform and economic relief instigated riots in an attempt to topple the government, Anna Harrington’s third Lords of the Armory romance is not a typical historical. Like a Regency-era forerunner to Batman, Lord Merritt Rivers is haunted by a tragic loss and obsessed with law and order. He works as a barrister by day and roams the streets of London at night, dressed in a costume of all black, determined to prevent crime before it happens and keep the innocent safe. This alter ego doesn’t have a name, but he tries one or two on for size (The Night Guardian, the City Watchman, etc.). Veronica “Roni” Chase, on the other hand, is a thief-taker. Morally gray with the permits to prove it, Veronica makes her living catching thieves and turning them in for profit. When the two meet one night on the streets, Veronica could easily end up back in jail. As far as Merritt is concerned, thief-takers like Veronica are part of the problem:

“Merritt had no patience for them, knowing they were profiting off the riots as much as the men they captured. But this one . . . Sweet Lucifer. He’d never seen one like her before. Hell, he’d never seen a female thief-taker at all.”

A series of suspiciously organized riots is putting London on the edge of turmoil and potentially undermining the regent. Merritt is helping the Home Office pinpoint the manipulative masterminds and mischief-makers behind the scenes, and he thinks Veronica might be one of them. His initial investigation into the mysterious beauty absolves her of that crime, but also reveals that she served time for a crime she didn’t commit and has been hiding under a different name after breaking out of prison. Intrigued and with his eyes on a bigger prize, Merritt offers a deal rather than turn Veronica in. She’ll help him investigate the riots and he’ll secure a full pardon for her in return—a perfect setup for enemies to become lovers.

An Extraordinary Lord includes ample tropes, all well deployed—Merritt and Veronica are enemies and opposites forced into close proximity for a limited time—but it’s to Harrington’s credit that her hero and heroine feel like unique creations with multiple dimensions and original facets. Veronica wields a knife with terrifying aplomb, but she also knows her way around a ballroom. She has the sensibilities and social awareness of a radical, but also lets herself revel in the beauty of a glittering party. Merritt is a gentleman with aristocratic connections, but he works hard for a living and actually has to think about the money he spends. And he wasn’t born into a title. Together, they navigate an interesting blend of rarified spaces and dangerous streets, with great banter and excellent physical chemistry wherever they go. But it’s the premise, its rich grounding in history and the palpable suspense that really set An Extraordinary Lord apart.

This enemies-to-lovers romance succeeds where others falter thanks to its original premise and fantastic characters.

Review by

Effective satire is steeped in truth. Zakiya Dalila Harris spent three years working in the blindingly white world of New York City book publishing, and in her debut novel, she leverages that experience to get the details right about the precarious and awkward life of an African American editorial assistant whose dream job turns into her greatest nightmare. Brilliantly positioned at the intersection of satire and social horror, The Other Black Girl incorporates subversively sharp and sly cultural commentary into an addictive and surprisingly dark tale of suspense. 

Raised in suburban Connecticut and a graduate of the University of Virginia, Nella Rogers has spent a lifetime being the only Black girl in predominantly white spaces. But she’s grown tired of the cautious calculations and compromises she must constantly make at Wagner Books, as well as the microaggressions she’s expected to overlook, just to tread water in her theoretically high-status yet low-paying entry-level post. Nella carefully chose Wagner for its racially progressive track record, having published a literary masterpiece that was written and edited by Black women decades before. But by the time Nella arrives, those women are long gone.

After two lonely and frustrating years as the only Black girl on the editorial staff, Nella is harboring high hopes that her first Black female colleague might offer relief from this sense of isolation. Nella’s optimism turns to trepidation, however, when it appears that her eager new co-worker, Hazel-May McCall, may be undermining rather than bolstering Nella’s position in the department, papering over offenses to get along and get ahead. Even worse, anonymous notes start to appear, warning Nella to get out while she can. 

Soon, Nella’s living out a racial allegory reminiscent of Jordan Peele’s powerhouse social horror blockbuster Get Out or Alyssa Cole’s gentrification thriller, When No One Is Watching. There are also shades of Kiley Reid’s Such a Fun Age in keenly observed scenes of awkward interracial interaction. But Harris displays a distinctive style all her own. With a flair for metaphor and a carefully calibrated surrealist perspective, she stops just short of over-the-top, as in this claustrophobic internal narrative: “What concerned me more were the things I couldn’t name: the things that were causing me to buzz and burn. That made me want to flee not just my home, but the tightening constraints of my skin itself.”

Thoughtful, provocative and viscerally entertaining, The Other Black Girl is a genre-bending creative triumph.

Brilliantly positioned at the intersection of satire and social horror, Zakiya Dalila Harris’ debut novel is a genre-bending creative triumph.
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In Beth O’Leary’s The Road Trip, the path to hell (and happy ever after) is paved with exes and their besties.

Fittingly, their journey begins with a literal bang. Two cars collide on their way from southern England to Scotland for the wedding of a mutual friend. The bigger car is totaled, and the two vehicles' combined five people squeeze into a tiny Mini Cooper for a discomfiting 400-mile journey with plenty of baggage in tow. The resulting carpool includes Addie and Dylan, estranged former live-in lovers who met and fell hard at an idyllic villa in France; their respective best friends, Deb (Addie’s sister) and Marcus (Dylan’s appallingly awful best friend); plus the bride's mysterious wild-card co-worker.

O’Leary is a brilliant social observer and a fearless, diabolical plotter. She arranges nuances of character, class, personality and situation for maximum chaos, placing the estranged exes in forced proximity for two painful days with Marcus, the guy who pushed them apart. Dylan is an Oxford grad and a poet from a posh, aristocratic family with flagging generational wealth; Addie is a working-class girl from Chichester who now works as a schoolteacher; and Marcus, the serpent in their garden, is a reckless, dissolute lost boy.

When they met, Dylan was a guest in the French villa where Addie was working as a caretaker for the summer. Unfortunately, Addie also became the primary caretaker of her ensuing relationship with Dylan. The majority of the book alternates between the titular road trip from hell and flashbacks that highlight the origins of their dysfunction: Marcus' frequent interference, Dylan’s passivity and Addie’s mounting frustration and insecurity.

This book's cover is deceptive, as The Road Trip is neither a romp nor a rom com. It’s an intense romance with a wildly wicked sense of humor—Sarah MacLean’s epic The Day of the Duchess meets Dangerous Liaisons in contemporary casual weekend dress. O’Leary unpacks the love story from multiple perspectives—the relationship then and now, from both main characters’ points of view—as she explores how it grew, how it faltered and what it feels like to come together after two years apart. Providing an intimate view of all the emotional turmoil that entails, this brutal but addictive second-chance romance is the relational equivalent of a 365-degree tour of a five-car pileup.

Throughout the book, Marcus’ displays of dominance demean Dylan and Addie both, and Dylan barely pushes back. It may be hard for some readers to keep faith with a character who is so passive for so long. Still, O’Leary’s humor, insight and occasionally bonkers plot twists command attention all the way through, and the ending is miraculously, gloriously redeeming. The Road Trip is a romantic rollercoaster that you won’t be able to turn away from till it’s done.

In Beth O’Leary’s The Road Trip, the path to hell (and happy ever after) is paved with exes and their besties.

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