The Rom-Com That Made Me Forgive Politics

A Barrister, a Bad Reputation, and a Swan Charity Gala

Here’s the setup, and it’s a good one. Luc O’Donnell is the son of two famous, famously terrible rock stars, and his own life has become tabloid fodder purely by association: a photo of him getting into a minor public altercation goes viral, his employer (an endangered animal charity, hence the swans) panics, and Luc needs to look respectable, fast. Enter Oliver Blackwood, a barrister so upstanding he practically radiates disapproval, who agrees to pose as Luc’s boyfriend for a series of public events meant to rehabilitate Luc’s image.

You already know this song. Fake dating, opposites attract, slow burn into something real. What makes it work isn’t the premise, it’s that Hall commits so hard to Luc’s voice. Luc narrates the whole book in first person, and he is delightfully, exhaustingly a mess: self-deprecating to the point of self-sabotage, funny as a defense mechanism, allergic to anything that resembles emotional vulnerability. He is the kind of narrator who will describe his own panic attack and somehow still land a joke in the middle of it. Oliver, by contrast, is buttoned-up, vegetarian, morally rigid in a way that’s clearly hiding something, and the tension between “chaotic disaster” and “human rulebook” is where the whole book lives.

Why the Banter Works (And Where the Book Sags)

Let’s talk about what actually makes this book sing, because it’s not the plot, which is pretty thin if you squint at it. It’s the dialogue. Hall writes banter like it’s a competitive sport, and Luc and Oliver’s verbal sparring, especially in the early “getting to know you” dinners, is genuinely some of the best rom-com writing I’ve read in ages. There’s a scene where Oliver systematically dismantles Luc’s entire personality over a meal and somehow makes it sound like flirting, and I had to put the book down and just sit with how good that scene was.

But here’s the thing, and I feel like a jerk saying it because I love this book: the middle third drags. Once the fake dating premise gets established, there’s a long stretch of Luc spiraling about his own worthiness, his terrible childhood, his absent rock star parents, and it circles the same emotional drain more times than it needs to. I found myself skimming some of the “Luc has a meltdown about not deserving happiness” passages on my second read, and I don’t think that’s just me being impatient. The book knows Luc has low self-esteem and it wants to make sure you know it too, over and over.

I also want to be honest about something that bugs me on reflection: Oliver’s big secret, when it’s revealed, is a little underwhelming compared to the buildup. Hall spends so much time hinting that Oliver is hiding something dark and complicated that the actual reveal feels almost gentle by comparison. I don’t think that’s a flaw exactly, real people’s secrets are often smaller than the shame around them, and that’s actually kind of the point, but it took me a minute to stop waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Am I overrating this because I read it during a specific emotional low and it pulled me out of it? Maybe. That’s a real risk with books that hit you at the right moment. But I’ve reread it twice since, in completely different moods, and it still makes me laugh out loud, so I think the affection holds up independent of my hungover bus ride.

The side characters deserve a mention too. Luc’s found family of friends, especially Bridget and the group chat energy they all have, gives the book warmth outside the central romance, and Alex, Oliver’s actual dog situation (I won’t spoil it) is one of the funniest running bits in the book.

The best fake relationships in fiction work because both people are actually terrified of wanting something real, and Hall understands that terror completely.

About Alexis Hall

Alexis Hall is a British author who writes across romance, fantasy, and whatever genre-blending mood strikes, with a voice that’s consistently sharp, funny, and unafraid of messy characters. Before becoming one of the most reliable names in queer romance, Hall built a reputation for prose that reads like it was written by someone who has read everything and is slightly bored by convention, which is exactly the energy Boyfriend Material needed. Hall doesn’t write tidy people falling in love, they write anxious, over-thinking, self-sabotaging people falling in love, which is a much harder thing to pull off and a much more satisfying thing to read.

If Luc and Oliver Wrecked You, Read These Next

• Him by Sarina Bowen and Elle Kennedy, for hockey players and banter that hits just as hard, with more angst and less barrister energy.
• Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston, for the fake-to-real political romance with the same chaotic charm and a bigger stage.
• The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun, for another disaster-meets-order pairing set against reality TV instead of tabloids.
• Husband Material by Alexis Hall, the sequel, if you need to know what happens to Luc and Oliver after the wedding question looms.

You can grab a copy here: Boyfriend Material on Amazon.

For your book club

1. Luc’s self-worth issues are directly tied to his parents’ fame. How much of his personality do you think is a performance versus who he actually is?
2. Oliver hides a significant part of his past for most of the book. Did the reveal land for you, or did it feel smaller than the buildup promised?
3. Fake dating only works in fiction if both people have a reason not to just be honest. What are Luc and Oliver each actually protecting by keeping up the ruse?
4. The book leans hard on humor even during genuinely sad moments. Did that tonal mix work for you, or did it undercut the emotional beats?
5. How does Luc’s found family (Bridget and the rest) shape the way he’s able to accept Oliver’s version of love?