When Grumpy Met Sunshine, by Charlotte Stein

In the interest of full disclosure: I requested this ARC exclusively because of the author’s Twitter presence; I had not read anything else by her before, and we did not follow each other, but I enjoyed our interactions there.

Heed thee the author’s warnings: references to parental abuse, childhood poverty, alcoholism, fatphobia; explicit sex. Also, swearing.

When Grumpy Met Sunshine, by Charlotte Stein

I will confess that, between my recent issues with contemporary romance, and this review at WhiskeyInTheJar Romance, I was a bit leery of starting the book; I was relieved to discover it’s narrated third person, past tense, in what Suzanne Brockmann calls deep point of view: we are immersed entirely in Mabel’s thoughts and feelings, essentially from the first page.

Mabel is an experienced ghostwriter, though she’s not necessarily in high demand; while she knows she’s good at what she does, she goes through life hiding all her insecurities behind her cheery, sunshiny personality–or, in those cases where even that won’t protect her from life’s cruelties, making herself invisible.

Which is why she’s as surprised as anyone else when she realizes that she can stand her ground with one of the angriest people she’s ever had the misfortune to meet; more than that, she can make him uncomfortable! How is that even possible?

And then, because this big angry man is also far too protective for anyone’s good, Mabel finds herself embroiled in a social and news media storm that threatens them both.

Here’s how the publisher sets the story up:

When grumpy ex-footballer Alfie Harding gets badgered into selling his memoirs, he knows he’s never going to be able to write them. He hates revealing a single thing about himself, is allergic to most emotions, and can’t imagine doing a good job of putting pen to paper.

And so in walks curvy, cheery, cute as heck ghostwriter Mabel Willicker, who knows just how to sunshine and sass her way into getting every little detail out of Alfie. They banter and bicker their way to writing his life story, both of them sure they’ll never be anything other than at odds.

But after their business arrangement is mistaken for a budding romance, the pair have to pretend to be an item for a public who’s ravenous for more of this Cinderella story. Or at least, it feels like it’s pretend—until each slow burn step in their fake relationship sparks a heat neither can control. Now they just have to decide: is this sizzling chemistry just for show? Or something so real it might just give them their fairytale ending?

I have to start by saying that I really like Mabel’s voice; like, a lot–which is why after starting this book very late on Sunday, I just kept reading. The narrative voice reflects how many people, me included, think and talk, especially when they share a cultural background: sentence fragments, incomplete thoughts, half-expressed cultural references, and so on. Add Mabel’s self-deprecating style and healthy sense of the ridiculous, and there I was, giggling as I read, from very early on in the book.

I mean, how could I not when they have exchanges like this one:

“You’re sadistic, you are. Like a really evil Mary Poppins.” (Alfie) “I’m trying not to be. But you just make it so easy and fun.” (Mabel, chapter 7)

It is soon apparent that despite being opposites on the surface–the glower and black clothing against the sunshine and color–, Mabel and Alfie share more than just having grown up poor or having alcoholic parents: a slightly oddball sense of humor, a just off-kilter way to look at the world, and a deep insecurity that essentially puts them both in the same corner, outside and against the world.

Before every chapter, there’s a bit of text that comes from outside Mabel’s perspective: emails from her agent, bits of her research for writing Alfie’s biography, social media takes (hot and not so much), and so on; I like them, because they ground the characters in the world at large. Also, the chapter titles are both hilarious and bonkers, just like their banter.

Speaking of their banter, the undercurrents of pain running under so much of what they perceive about each other are huge; both Mabel and Alfie are trapped behind the masks they use to protect themselves and be able to function in the world, by deep childhood trauma, which has been compounded by how the world sees each of them.

Alfie, a deeply kind and decent man, who would rather stay home to watch a romantic comedy than mingle, but knows that a soccer player (footballer in the UK–and maybe everywhere not the U.S.?), must go drinking and brawling frequently, because that’s what macho men do, and there’s nothing more macho than a professional athlete, especially a really successful one. A good, caring soul who is convinced that any affection coming his way is put on because of his fame and his money; that he is essentially unlovable and deeply unworthy–a man who is terrified this last ditch effort to achieve a dream will backfire spectacularly.

Mabel, always and forever the sidekick in the lives of her friends, who has learned to take up as little space as possible, and who has convinced herself that’s essentially the only way she can exist; reminding herself that she is happy, not just outwardly cheery, and that she mustn’t reach beyond what comes her way. And, festering below that, the hurt of decades of being made to feel small and insignificant by those who, we are so constantly told, should have loved her unconditionally.

So a situation worthy of the frothiest of frothy romcoms (the little nobody and the wealthy celebrity having to fake a romance to fool the paparazzi in order to hide something else) turns out to have a pretty big wounded, bleeding heart at the center.

Part of the issue is how the world sees and treats Maggie, whom the blurb calls curvy in lieu of fat; it’s not only the barrage of abuse coming her way for daring to be a fat woman dating a very athletic, famous and wealthy man. What would be just a publicity stunt where she model-thin, or just thin, soon becomes part of the constant war fatphobia wages against millions of people, especially girls and women, around the world. As bad as that is–and it is bad–it is also the weight of the lie when considering the many fat teen women and girls (and, not stated, but realistically, also boys), for whom that lie is giving both hope and vindication.

Things only get more complicated when fake kissing becomes actual kissing, and fake physical attraction becomes explicit sexual attraction of epic proportions–on both sides.

Speaking of which, I really like that Alfie ensures not only that Mabel is with him every step of the way, but that she wants to be there; consent is an essential part of their relationship, and not just when it comes to sex.

The misunderstandings between them feel very plausible: people get things wrong about each other even when they know and trust each other; it’s a lot easier, given Mabel’s and Alfie’s circumstances, both individually and together, for lies to become truths that have to be maintained as lies (yes, I mean that they caught feelings when they really weren’t supposed to), and the whole house of cards to sway precariously at the slightest breeze.

Of course, since we only have Mabel’s internal dialogue, her pain and anguish over her feelings for him and what she perceives to be his, much different, for her, is more tangible to the reader; but Alfie’s is in all he does, in how much control he has learned to exert over himself, how well he can hide behind a cool face and angry persona.

Here I must say that I am not a fan of the third act separation (read that as, “I object to it on principle”) and very rarely care for a grand gesture, especially a public one. I see how both make sense here, because despite how much insight Mabel gives us into Alfie’s heart, her vision is clouded by her own trauma. I also see how time apart gives both characters space to grow and heal, and so on and so forth, and yet, I am nonetheless annoyed by it, especially because the resolution in the very last chapter then feels rushed to me.

I wanted more time with them after.

Not because I don’t believe they’ll live HEA; I was convinced they would make it well before the halfway point, to be honest, they are just fantastic together and for each other. No, what I wanted was to see them together after overcoming the obstacles between them, both real and imagined, and I feel just a bit cheated we don’t get to.

Still, this is a lovely romance, and the kind of contemporary genre romance I want more of.

When Grumpy Met Sunshine gets a 9.00 out of 10