It’s Not Me, It’s You by Jo Lovett
Thank you to Boldwood Books and NetGalley for my gifted ARC.
Let me just say: if you’ve ever wanted to watch a romance author who doesn’t believe in love get forced into a dating challenge by a smug, emotionally stunted divorce lawyer who does believe in love—despite literally profiting from its downfall—then Jo Lovett has written the book for you. And possibly for me, because despite the fact that I rolled my eyes so hard during the opening chapters I might need corrective lenses now, I still devoured this with a weird mixture of affection and secondhand embarrassment.
Our heroine, Freya, writes bestsellers filled with swoony endings and emotional closure. In real life? She’s sworn off love like it’s dairy and she’s lactose intolerant. And honestly, I respect her for that. Meanwhile, Jake is the kind of man who, despite being a divorce lawyer who witnesses relationship breakdowns daily, still believes in true love. He’s like a firefighter who thinks arson is romantic.
They meet on live TV—because why not—where they immediately lock horns in a spat so spicy it goes viral. A smirking morning show host proposes a challenge: Jake will find Freya her perfect match, and Freya will convince Jake that love is just a well-marketed scam with good lighting. The stakes are vague, the ethics questionable, and the chemistry? Ridiculous. I was not expecting to root for these two after Jake spent the first few chapters being the human equivalent of a patronizing wink, but Lovett knows what she’s doing.
The dynamic is classic enemies-to-lovers, with a twist of “opposites attract” and a strong helping of “oh no, we have to work together and now my feelings are inconvenient.” Freya’s inner monologue is sharp and dry in that way that makes you want to be her best friend, or at least follow her on every platform she allows public access to. Jake starts off as insufferable, but gradually transforms into someone you might consider introducing to your dog. Progress.
Now, let’s talk pacing. The first act? Strong. The setup is tight, the banter crackles, the premise is delightful chaos. Then we hit the middle stretch where I started to worry we’d wandered into a baking competition. There are a lot of scenes involving food prep. I like scones, I really do, but I started to wonder if I’d accidentally opened a Great British Bake Off tie-in novel. The central tension dipped for a while—there were several dates Freya was sent on that felt more like filler than fire—but it picks back up after the inevitable emotionally vulnerable getaway trip. You know the one. Every rom-com has it. You’d miss it if it weren’t there.
The emotional payoff is where this story earns its keep. Once Freya and Jake stop pretending their only job is to “win” the bet, the story gets real. Freya’s emotional walls start to crack, and Jake—shockingly—becomes someone with depth, softness, and the ability to admit he was wrong (a rare combo in fictional men and real ones, honestly). There’s some lovely commentary here on what love actually means, what it takes to believe in it again after being burned, and how sometimes the hardest thing is letting someone see all the mess and stay anyway.
A few things didn’t totally land. The third-act conflict felt a bit rushed—like someone checked the page count and panicked. Also, a few of the side plots (Jake’s brother’s accident, the inner workings of Freya’s fictional novels, every single on-screen producer) were touched on and then left floating around like open browser tabs no one closed. But honestly? I didn’t mind that much. I was too invested in the slow unraveling of Jake’s deeply repressed feelings and Freya’s refusal to play the good little romantic heroine.
Lovett writes with a warmth that sneaks up on you. Even when the characters are being insufferable—and trust me, they both have their moments—you still want them to find their way to each other. You root for them because they’re flawed in the way real people are: prickly, proud, a little scared, and desperate not to look like they care more than the other person. That’s the sweet spot in rom-coms, and Lovett hits it here.
Quote I absolutely underlined like I was studying for an exam:
“If this is what being wrong feels like, I don’t want to be right.”
Same, Jake. Same.
So no, It’s Not Me, It’s You isn’t perfect. The middle drags, some of the side characters needed fleshing out, and the “viral TV bet” plot occasionally requires more suspension of disbelief than a Marvel movie. But at the end of the day? It’s cozy, funny, sarcastic, and emotionally satisfying. A rom-com that understands people are messy, and love isn’t always tidy—and that’s exactly why it’s worth it.
⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️