I received this book for free, this does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review

“No. Absolutely not. I’m not ghostwriting a ballplayer diary.”

It's been a year since Mark's partner William died, a year of everything feeling dull and Mark not being able to find the energy and passion to keep writing beyond a few book reviews every now and again to keep on the books at the Chronicle. With the paper struggling, his boss comes to him and springs the idea of, normally arts and culture writer, Mark ghost writing a series of “diary” entries from New York City's new expansion team's shortstop, Eddie. The shortstop who is going through a horrible slump and went on a public tirade about being traded to the Robins. Mark agrees, with the thought that after a few articles, everyone will see what a bad idea it was, even though his access to the team will lead to an eventual magazine feature.

Sportswriters are the reason everybody hates Eddie. Okay, Eddie’s big mouth is the reason everybody hates Eddie, but he might have been able to keep it a secret if it hadn’t been for the reporters.

Eddie, for his part, agrees because he's trying to get back on the good side of his new team and thinks this is set-up to get a few canned lines out there and get the city back to liking him. When Mark and Eddie meet, there's an instant attraction but, as this is, 1960 and Eddie is a professional athlete, things are more than complicated, they could be dangerous. Mark's lived in a secret relationship before and doesn't want to do it again, while Eddie's aware of why he needs to keep things covert, he's optimistic enough to believe they can forge a path that works for them both. You Should Be So Lucky was a story of a jaded reporter still grieving and a baseball player that comes along at the worst time trying to chase his clouds away.

He’s making gay jokes with a professional baseball player in his living room. He could not feel more surreal about this if he tried.

If you're picking this up for the baseball setting, there is some feel of that, enough baseball culture to have fans of the sport get that smile over the ridiculousness of all the stats kept and speak to the feeling of why fans root and develop lifelong connections with teams and players. But, there also wasn't so much that non-sports fans will have their eyes glaze over, Eddie's slump plays a big part of the story but only snippets of games are shown and it's more about the emotional journey he's going on in his personal life. If you're picking this up for the historical feel, that's here woven throughout the whole context as the main conflict is Mark worrying about being a danger to Eddie, what would happen if their relationship was ever found out by the wrong person. Secondary characters play a big part of their world, the old-timer usual baseball beat reporter, Eddie's manager and a teammate, and friends of Mark, through each of these characters, the time period is felt in how protective they try to be for the couple. There was also, what turned out to be an emotional scene, that I felt hits hard in it's depth without beating it down, between Eddie and his mother. Eddie spends the morning telling her about Lula, about Mark helping the rookie buy suits, about the dumbest shit that could not possibly interest anyone but a mother, and she doesn’t falter, not once. It's Eddie coming out to his mother without explicit stating and it was the she doesn’t falter, not once. that will have your eyes watering.

Maybe he doesn’t know how to untangle caring for someone with worrying that it will be their undoing.

The story is told from both Mark and Eddie's point-of-view, but I'm going to say this is a little more Mark's story. The first half is Mark coming out from the bottom of grief and making that healing journey. The second half had more of Eddie and Mark together, with Eddie also on his personal journey of internally thinking about what it truly means to be gay, where before he knew he was gay but compartmentalized it in a way that had him not putting it in the context of his life. So, while, there is a big romance plot (there are open-door scenes but some go the fade away route before showing actual consummation), it's Mark and Eddie both taking separate personal journeys that then lead them into flowing into their romance. This seems to be how a lot of newer romances are going, and I don't know if I'm explaining right, but I personally like when there's more of a singular journey, the characters are working together in the same journey towards romance. These two are in their heads a lot and when Mark is coming to terms that he does love Eddie, he's by himself instead of having that moment with Eddie, again, making it feel like a personal journey instead of the togetherness I want in romance.

I’m telling you, Eddie, when you look at me, it’s obvious.”
“You only think so because you know how I feel.”

There was a third-act break-up, where Eddie goes on his personal journey and then shows Mark how things can work, with Mark deciding that he'll do his best to show faith in Eddie's belief. This had the author's usual naturalness to writing and emotions that never fails to emotionally draw me in and there was an epilogue that summed up the story perfectly, with some grief and proven and future optimism leading these two down the HEA road. If you're looking for personal journeys that help flow two people into a working romance, with added bonus of historical feel and some baseball, then you definitely want to pick this one up. ( )

A sweet and charming love story, which is likely to trick you into learning things about baseball, set in 1960. A sequel in the same world as We Could Be So Good, and also about queer journalists in a time when being a journalist was a much better career than today (but when being queer could get you arrested and fired). I think it's fascinating how Cat Sebastian walks a fine line between seeing and recognizing the dangers and traumas of life for queer people in this time in America, while somehow still writing a book that is a sweet, happy-ending romance and not just incredibly dreary. ( )

Rating: 4.5* of five

The Publisher Says: An emotional, slow-burn, grumpy/sunshine, queer mid-century romance for fans of Evvie Drake Starts Over, about grief and found family, between the new star shortstop stuck in a batting slump and the reporter assigned to (reluctantly) cover his first season—set in the same universe as We Could Be So Good.

The 1960 baseball season is shaping up to be the worst year of Eddie O’Leary’s life. He can’t manage to hit the ball, his new teammates hate him, he’s living out of a suitcase, and he’s homesick. When the team’s owner orders him to give a bunch of interviews to some snobby reporter, he’s ready to call it quits. He can barely manage to behave himself for the length of a game, let alone an entire season. But he’s already on thin ice, so he has no choice but to agree.

Mark Bailey is not a sports reporter. He writes for the arts page, and these days he’s barely even managing to do that much. He’s had a rough year and just wants to be left alone in his too-empty apartment, mourning a partner he’d never been able to be public about. The last thing he needs is to spend a season writing about New York’s obnoxious new shortstop in a stunt to get the struggling newspaper more readers.

Isolated together within the crush of an anonymous city, these two lonely souls orbit each other as they slowly give in to the inevitable gravity of their attraction. But Mark has vowed that he’ll never be someone’s secret ever again, and Eddie can’t be out as a professional athlete. It’s just them against the world, and they’ll both have to decide if that’s enough.

I RECEIVED A DRC FROM THE PUBLISHER VIA NETGALLEY. THANK YOU.

My Review: I'm a Cat Sebastian stan. Her writing chops, her eye for a story, her politics...all *chef's kiss* in my experience. This derfinitely is, please note, a slow-burn love story. I don't think this is a bug, rather a feature; I'm pretty au fait with what happens between men in bed. I'm as interested in how they got there, and why, as in what it is they're gettin' up to.

The fun in this read is that, once the guys get their bodily freak on, I believe that they'll be able, and willing to stay there! These relationships, the ones you can actually picture as real and lasting, are all too rare in fiction...let alone in romantic fiction. It is not, I hurry to reassure the bodyloathers, a meaty, intimately observed intimacy; more of a noises-off kind of affair, where we know what happened and now we see what that brought to Mark and Eddie. One-handed reading is not really Author Cat's stock-in-trade, she hasn't started now.

That being my expectation, and it being met, next point of tension for many readers (including me) is the elephant in the room of any midcentury m/m story: Outing. A reporter and a baseball phenom in physical intimacy would've had a lot of anxiety about being seen to be...a little too close, a bit off in the macho world of baseball...because it would uneash the horrors of public, untrammelled homophobia on the men. This was, after all, the time of The Lavender Scare.

So this backdrop means, in my reading, the HEAs and even HFNs many writers engineer for two men being publicly together in this time-period ring hollow. "That could not happen!" I think, all suspension of disbelief flying away on noisy bat-wings of knowledge. As always, Author Cat spares me the discomfort by making these two behave circumspectly. Mark, a reporter, knows the Power of the Press, and respects the cultural norms to avoid awakening it. He's also just lost his longtime love, and so isn't exactly in a huggy-smoochy frame of mind; Eddie's in his first-ever existential crisis..."I can't do this thing I get praise and an identity from anymore! Help!"...so he's, well, not gonna rock the boat. Such a good way to ensure there's layers of meaning behind their period-appropriate decorous public demeanor.

What makes any story centered around grief readable is hope. The men here don't have a path forward, can't see through the fog of the present into a brighter, better-defined future. Only as they learn to trust each other's love and support as real, solid stones capable of being made into a foundation do they find the ease they're seeking. That was the payoff I needed from this unlikely duo's coming-together: The sense that, to their mutual surprise, they had found together the path that neither had been able to see alone.

In the end, these two find their happiness in their connection. They are, it felt to me, solidly, enduringly connected and will weather their future storms better for being together. Now, how often do fictional people draw out that level of thought and that depth of interest? For anyone who hasn't read Author Cat's earlier work, it might sound surprising that this has happened. I assure you who haven't had the pleasure that this is a long-term feature of all her stories.

Lastly, I hope you'll read this, and resonate to it. It is a very clear statement of a deep, abiding truth of the experience of being Other:
It’s not just the burden of continually lying, it’s keeping your existence a secret. When the world has decided that people are supposed to be a certain way, but you’re living proof to the contrary, then hiding your differences is just helping everybody else erase who you are.

This book, in a period-appropriate way, presents two loving souls whose socially unacceptable love and connection truly prevent them from being erased. ( )

This is a fun low angst queer romance set in 1960. That said, there is grief, death, and legitimate fear of being outed in a society where you could lose everything if found out as major plot elements. This is the 2nd book in this series-- the first set a few years earlier featuring Andy and Nick who are minor characters in this one.
I enjoyed Mark and Eddie's story. Mark's wariness to love again and to put Eddie's reputation at risk felt real. And Eddie was lovely in his enthusiasm for life. ( )

The book feel like the kind of love letter that exists within the book --fierce and funny and furious and tender to the heart. It's a love letter to queerness, to baseball, to the hurting inner selves who shouldn't have to hide, to the good old days of reporting, to the difficult people and the grieving dogs. I don't think there's a better way to spend an afternoon than letting your heart be wrung and soothed and carefully cherished, especially in a world that demands that we cope with loss and survival, and all the compromises that tarnish us. Beautiful, kind and satisfying.

Advanced Reader's Copy provided by Edelweiss. ( )