Books Like Betting on You and Lynn Painter: Fake Dating, Enemies-to-Lovers, and the Rom-Com Arena That Makes It Work (Plus How to Write a Series in This Lane)

Books Like Betting on You and Lynn Painter: Fake Dating, Enemies-to-Lovers, and the Rom-Com Arena That Makes It Work (Plus How to Write a Series in This Lane)

The thread was small. The recommendations were consistent. And what showed up in the comments wasn’t a random list — it was a map. A map of the “Painter-adjacent” lane: high-concept-cute contemporary YA where the trope is the engine and the setting is a rom-com arena that forces proximity. Once you see it, you can’t unsee it. And if you’re a writer, you can build from it.

So: the recommendations, what the thread is secretly telling us, and how to reverse-engineer a series (or a standalone) that fits the commercial sweet spot without copying it.

The Recommendations (What People Actually Mentioned)

Dungeons and Drama — Kristy Boyce. Dating and Dragons — Kristy Boyce.

Boyce shows up twice because she’s doing the thing: high-concept premises (theater, gaming) that put two people in a contained world with a reason to be in each other’s faces. Dungeons and Drama gives you the drama club and the game shop; Dating and Dragons leans into the D&D/tabletop angle. Both are trope-forward, banter-heavy, and built for readers who want the friction and the butterflies without the heaviness.

Frankly in Love — David Yoon.

Yoon’s book is the one that gets recommended when someone wants “fake dating” or “complicated family expectations” with emotional sincerity. The fake-dating setup (they’re both Korean American, both need to satisfy family expectations with someone “acceptable”) creates the proximity; the real feelings create the heart. It’s often cited as the book that does the trope and the weight in balance — not just cute, but grounded.

Counting Down with You — Tashie Bhuiyan.

Another fake-dating-adjacent rec: the countdown premise, the pressure (family, school, expectations), and the slow burn. Bhuiyan gets recommended in the same breath as Painter and Yoon for readers who want contemporary YA that feels real and still delivers the rom-com structure.

The Love Match — Priyanka Taslim.

Matchmaking, family expectations, and the “wrong” person who might be right. Taslim’s book fits the lane: a public-facing premise (the match, the community watching) that makes the romance both plausible and high-stakes. Recommended when the ask includes “cultural expectations” or “family pressure” alongside fake dating.

That’s Debatable — Jen Doll.

Debate team. Rivals. Forced proximity because they’re on the same circuit, facing each other (and maybe partnering). Doll’s book is the “enemies-to-lovers in an arena” example — the arena is literal (debate), the friction is competence-based, and the reader gets the satisfaction of two sharp people going from clashing to trusting to more.

A Pho Love Story — Loan Le.

Restaurant families, rival businesses, and the kids who aren’t supposed to mix. Le gives you the contained social ecosystem (the Vietnamese American community, the restaurants) and a reason the two leads have to navigate each other without it feeling contrived. Food, family, and slow-burn tension.

The Art of French Kissing — Brianna R. Shrum.

Shrum gets recommended for readers who want the banter and the trope (here, the French-kiss premise / dare / bet) with a voice that’s witty and emotionally sincere. Fits the “light, clever, butterflies” lane.

A Love Hate Thing — Whitney D. Grandison.

The title does the work: love-hate, enemies-adjacent, the kind of setup where they’re thrown together and the friction is the point. Grandison is often in the mix when the ask is “enemies to lovers” or “they can’t stand each other at first.”

The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You — Lily Anderson.

Anderson’s book is a staple rec for bantery enemies-to-lovers in a school setting. Sharp dialogue, academic rivalry (or similar), and the slow shift from “I can’t stand you” to “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Exactly the energy the thread was chasing.

So: Dungeons and Drama, Dating and Dragons, Frankly in Love, Counting Down with You, The Love Match, That’s Debatable, A Pho Love Story, The Art of French Kissing, A Love Hate Thing, The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You. That’s the visible list. And even with a small sample, the pattern holds.

WHAT THE THREAD IS SECRETLY TELLING US (THE COMMERCIAL SWEET SPOT)

The ask was “romance like Painter, fake dating and enemies-to-lovers.” The answers weren’t “here are ten random YA romances.” They were “here are ten books that do this specific thing.” The implied requirements:

Fast banter + clean butterflies. Flirty, funny, emotionally sincere — not heavy, not explicit. The reader wants to feel the tension and the crush without crossing into spice or trauma-heavy territory. The satisfaction is in the verbal sparring and the slow realization, not in steam.

A public-facing premise that makes fake dating (or forced proximity) plausible. School event, club, reputation, family or community expectations. The trope doesn’t feel like a gimmick because the world gives them a reason to be in each other’s orbit. She has to fake-date him to achieve Z. They’re rivals on the debate team. Their families run competing restaurants. The premise does the work.

A contained social ecosystem. School, teams, clubs, small town, close-knit community. Conflict can snowball — everyone’s watching, everyone has an opinion — without feeling contrived. The arena is small enough that the same cast can recur and the stakes feel personal.

Enemies-to-lovers that’s actually friction-to-trust. Competence clashes, reputational misunderstandings, rival goals. Not cruelty. Not abuse. The reader wants to watch two people who are wrong about each other (or right to be wary) slowly get it right. The “enemy” is usually situational — they’re on opposite sides of something — not moral.

So when someone says “books like Betting on You” or “like Lynn Painter,” they’re asking for that combination: trope as engine, arena as container, banter as voice, clean butterflies as payoff. And when we as writers look at that list, we’re not just looking at comp titles — we’re looking at a repeatable design.

Reverse-Engineering A Series (The Arena Trick)

If you want standalones, you pick a trope and an arena and you run. If you want a series, the trick is giving yourself a repeatable arena that naturally spins new couples so readers can ship the friend group and come back for the next pair.

Series engine: One setting, rotating spotlights. Each book = a new couple in the same world. The arena stays; the trope and the conflict change. Examples:

– A high school performing arts program (new show each book; new leads, same cast of friends and rivals).
– A game shop / D&D club / esports team (tournament seasons, new opponents, new partners).
– A roller rink or ice rink or community center (events, rivalries, regulars who become book 2’s leads).
– A debate team or Model UN circuit (new competitions, new schools, new “enemy” debaters who might be more).

You’re not inventing a new world every time. You’re deepening the same world and shifting the spotlight. That’s how you get “each book follows a different couple in the same world, with an ongoing friend-group arc readers can ship.”

Trope ladder across 4–6 books (so you’re not repeating the same beat):

Book 1: Fake dating → real feelings.
Book 2: Enemies/rivals → allies → lovers.
Book 3: Friends → lovers with a jealousy or fear-of-ruining-it twist.
Book 4: Second chance (but “first love, now older” — they’ve been apart, they’re back in the same arena).
Book 5+: Forbidden or problematic logistics — scholarship kid vs legacy kid, rival schools, public scandal, “we’re not supposed to want each other.”

You don’t have to use this order. But if you use the same trope every book, the series flattens. The arena stays; the emotional shape of each romance shifts.

A Pitch Skeleton You Can Reuse

Hook: “When X happens, she has to fake-date Y to achieve Z… except Y is the person who most wants her to fail.”

Promise: “A high-concept rom-com with [trope] + [arena], heavy banter, low spice, high heart.”

Series promise (if applicable): “Each book follows a different couple in the same world, with an ongoing friend-group arc readers can ship.”

That’s the skeleton. You plug in your arena (debate team, theater, rink, game shop), your trope (fake dating, enemies, friends-to-lovers), and your specific conflict (family expectations, rival school, scholarship vs legacy). The reader who loved Painter and To All the Boys and Better Than the Movies will recognize the DNA. The writer who builds from this has a lane.

Where To Start (If You’Re The Reader)

If you want the closest to Painter: Betting on You and Better Than the Movies first. Then Dungeons and Drama and The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You for the same banter-and-trope energy.

If you want fake dating with emotional weight: Frankly in Love. Then Counting Down with You or The Love Match.

If you want enemies-to-lovers in an arena: That’s Debatable (debate). A Love Hate Thing or The Only Thing Worse Than Me Is You (school rivalry).

If you want family/community pressure as the container: A Pho Love Story, The Love Match, Frankly in Love.

If you want to see the blueprint in action: Read Painter, then Boyce, then Yoon. Notice how the premise creates the proximity, how the banter carries the voice, and how the arena keeps the conflict from feeling random. Then go build your own.