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'You Should Be So Lucky' by Cat Sebastian

  • Reed
  • Jan 22
  • 3 min read
A slow-burn 1960s romance about grief, second chances, and finding love again. Cat Sebastian's You Should Be So Lucky is warm, authentic, and worth the wait—even when the pacing drags.

Author: Cat Sebastian

Rating: B+

Vibe: : 1960s baseball heartache with grief, yearning, and second chances


Eddie O'Leary is a shortstop (baseball) in the middle of the worst slump of his career. He's been traded to the New York Robins, a team where nobody likes him, and he's lonely, homesick, and can't seem to hit the ball to save his life. Mark Bailey, meanwhile, is an arts reporter who hasn't really written anything since his partner died a year ago. When Mark is reluctantly assigned to write a feature on Eddie, neither of them expects much—but what starts as a professional obligation becomes something deeper, more complicated, and ultimately life-changing. You Should Be So Lucky is a slow-burn romance built on yearning, vulnerability, and the kind of chemistry that comes from two people whose baggage fits together just right.


What makes this book work is the way Sebastian understands that both men are dealing with loss—just different flavors of it. Eddie's been ripped out of the only place where he felt safe, stripped of the small comforts he'd built around his very big secret. He's a vulnerable guy who shouldn't have to hide who he is, but does, and now even that fragile sense of security is gone. Mark's grief, on the other hand, is tangled up in the unfairness of his circumstances: he lost the love of his life, and because they had to stay closeted for his partner's career, even his mourning has to be hidden. The weight of that—of loving someone and losing them and not being able to fully grieve them publicly—adds layers to Mark's story that felt achingly real.


The chemistry between them is this lovely mix of opposites attract and "my baggage goes with yours." They're not a perfect fit on paper, but emotionally, they balance each other in a way that just works. The plot isn't what keeps the book moving—it's the yearning, the tension, the way Sebastian lets their relationship unfold slowly and with intention. This is a book that lives in stolen glances, quiet conversations, and the ache of wanting something you're not sure you're allowed to have.


Sebastian has clearly done her homework on the historical setting, and it shows. The 1960s backdrop—when being openly gay could destroy your career, your safety, your life—adds real weight to the story without overwhelming it. The historical context isn't just window dressing; it shapes the choices these men make, the risks they take, and the ways they have to protect themselves and each other. But it's not the only thing the book is about, and that balance keeps it from feeling too heavy. There's hope here, even in the face of institutional homophobia, and that hope feels earned.


I'll be honest: the pacing can feel slow, especially in the middle. Some readers might find themselves wishing for a tighter plot or more forward momentum. I felt that a little too. But even with that, I was happy to live in this world and with these characters.


This book is set in the same universe as We Could Be So Good, which I liked a little more, but You Should Be So Lucky is still outstanding in its own right. It's a story about second chances, about finding solace in unexpected places, and about the courage it takes to believe that life might surprise you again. It's the kind of book that reminds you why we read romance in the first place—not just for the happily ever after, but for the journey of two people learning to be brave enough to want it.



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