This book has no business being as fun as it is.
I picked up Unfortunately Yours because I needed something light after a brutal string of night shifts — three codes in two nights, a combative patient who tried to rip out his own central line, and a new resident who looked at me like I was speaking Tagalog when I said "push epi." (I mean, I do sometimes speak Tagalog, but not during a code.) I needed brain candy. Something sweet, something dumb, something that wouldn't make me think about mortality at 6:47 AM while merging onto the I-10.
Tessa Bailey delivered. Mostly.
A Marriage of Convenience Between Two People Who Deserve Each Other
Here's the setup: Natalie Vos, trust fund heiress who just got dumped and fired, needs to get married to access her money for a business venture. August Cates, ex-Navy SEAL turned terrible winemaker, needs cash to save the vineyard he inherited from his dead best friend. They can't stand each other. They're also wildly attracted to each other. You know exactly where this is going.
And honestly? That predictability is the point. I didn't come here for plot twists. I came here for August Cates saying something devastatingly sincere while Natalie pretends it doesn't wreck her, and Bailey writes those moments with real skill. That specific kind of slow-burn sincerity is exactly what kept me hooked on It's in His Kiss too — two people circling each other with so much unspoken feeling that when it finally lands, you feel it in your chest. The banter crackles — these two genuinely seem to irritate each other in specific, personal ways, not just generic rom-com "we're so different!" ways. Natalie's pride is a real thing, not a cute quirk. August's determination to honor his friend's memory while being hilariously bad at actual winemaking (someone literally gagged tasting his wine, which — I've seen people gag on hospital coffee that was probably less offensive) gives him actual stakes beyond "hot guy needs love."
But some listeners called this one forgettable, and I get it. I do. The marriage-of-convenience trope is so well-worn that you need something extra to make it stick, and while Bailey's dialogue is sharp as a fresh 18-gauge needle, the plot beats land exactly when and where you expect them. There's a comfort in that predictability — don't get me wrong — but it also means that three days later, I'm remembering the feeling of the book more than specific scenes. It's cotton candy. Delicious going down, but try describing the texture an hour later.
Callie Dalton Knows What She's Doing Behind the Mic
Callie Dalton's narration is the reason to go audio on this one instead of reading the paperback. Her take on August — this low, steady, slightly gruff voice that she uses for his POV chapters — actually sold me on the character in ways I'm not sure the text alone would have. There's a warmth she threads into his voice when he's talking about his friend's vineyard, a softness that contrasts with the cocky bravado he puts on around Natalie. She gets the comedy too. The timing on the insults, the little beat she holds before a punchline — that's craft.
Now. Is she doing wildly distinct voices for every side character? No. The supporting cast kind of blurs together vocally. But honestly, in a rom-com where I'm here for the two leads sniping at each other and then falling into bed? I don't need the sommelier and the best friend to sound like different people. I need August and Natalie to feel real. And they do.
One thing I noticed — and maybe this is my night-shift brain being picky — there's some gender essentialism baked into the text itself that made me raise an eyebrow. The "he's a manly man who fixes things and she's feisty but needs protecting" stuff. Dalton reads it straight, no winking, which is probably the right call for the genre. But it did make me mutter at my steering wheel a couple times. Not quite dashboard-yelling levels, but close.
Who Should Pour a Glass for This One
If you like Tessa Bailey, you already know you're listening to this. If you're new to her — this is a solid entry point. Better pairing than Secretly Yours (the first in this Vine Mess series), according to pretty much everyone, and I'd agree. At nearly 11 hours, it's a good length for a week of commutes without dragging. Perfect for that post-shift decompression when your brain is too fried for anything heavy but you still want characters who feel like actual people with actual problems (even if those problems are "I'm too hot and too stubborn to admit I'm in love").
Skip it if you need plot surprises. Skip it if rom-com tropes make you itch. And maybe skip it if you're not in the mood for spice — because Bailey does not fade to black, and Carlos definitely gave me a look when I was blushing at a red light at 7 AM on a Tuesday.
Night Shift Rx: As Needed for Emotional Recovery
This is comfort food in audiobook form. Not the meal that changes your life — the warm pan de sal your mom makes when you come home tired and she doesn't ask questions, just feeds you. My mom would love this. (She still thinks I should've been a doctor, but she's also a secret romance reader, so.) Callie Dalton elevates solid material into a genuinely enjoyable listen. I didn't cry in the car, but I did smile the whole drive home, and some weeks that's worth more.
