Book Title: Second First Dates
Author: Gabrielle Gamez
Publisher: Forever (Grand Central Publishing)
Publishing Date: July 2026
Romance has traditionally relied on familiar archetypes: protagonists who are immediately attracted to one another, for emotionally unavailable rakes seeking redemption, and moving towards milestones like marriage, children or happily-ever-after in fairly conventional ways. Gabriella Gamez deliberately broadens that landscape by creating two protagonists whose relationships with attraction, intimacy and commitment don’t fit those templates, yet whose romance feels no less compelling.
The novel follows Leti Maldonado, who reluctantly returns to dating after a four-year hiatus, only to realise she’s matched with Julian, the very same man whose disastrous date sent her into that sabbatical in the first place. It’s an intentionally unconventional setup that asks readers for a degree of suspension of disbelief. Given that Leti has avoided dating for four years, it’s reasonable to wonder whether she would remember the name of the one person connected to that experience. The novel leans into coincidence here, but grounds it well enough that the premise never feels impossible, just delightfully improbable.
That early leap of faith is rewarded by what follows.
You Might Feel Validated for your Unpopular Approach to Dating
Written in dual first-person narration, the novel makes excellent use of interior monologue to reveal two remarkably honest protagonists. Rather than filtering or sanitising their insecurities, both Leti and Julian allow readers direct access to the thoughts they would probably never say aloud.
“It’s not that I’m jealous of the lives my siblings have created for themselves, exactly. It’s just that they figured out their lives so quickly, and I’m still catching up. If I’m the one thwarting convention, why do I still feel so inferior?”
Moments like these demonstrate why first-person narration is such an effective choice here. The emotional conflicts driving this story aren’t external misunderstandings; they’re deeply internal negotiations around identity, self-worth and belonging. Those are best experienced from inside the characters’ heads.
Representation is another area where the novel quietly excels. Leti identifies as graysexual, while Julian also falls somewhere on the asexual spectrum and questions traditional relationship milestones like marriage and children. What’s particularly impressive is that Julian isn’t the familiar archetype of the commitment-phobic hero. He isn’t avoiding marriage because he wants limitless sexual freedom. Instead, he simply doesn’t see lifelong commitment as something that needs to be validated by institutions. It’s an uncommon perspective in mainstream romance and one that gives the novel a welcome sense of originality.
Romance novels have become increasingly diverse, but it’s still comparatively rare to see protagonists whose emotional intimacy develops independently of immediate physical attraction.
Despite these nuanced identities, the book never forgets to be entertaining.
The protagonists are indeed stars of the show
Leti remains the seemingly unflappable, sharp-tongued, black-cat heroine whose prickliness hides considerable vulnerability, while Julian is unmistakably the sunshine counterpart to her guardedness. As one exchange perfectly puts it:
“Sunshine boy and devil woman. Sounds like a graphic novel I’d read.”
“Or a DC series that would get canceled after one season.”
The chemistry between them is playful from the outset, but the romance itself takes its time.
One of the novel’s strongest structural decisions arrives when Leti reluctantly tells Julian:
“You can take over my dating accounts. As dubious as your help might be, it’s clear doing this on my own is getting me nowhere.”
Up until this point, the story is juggling several threads simultaneously. Leti and Julian discover they work at the same place. Julian also happens to be her brother’s roommate, in the same building as Leti. Their shared dating history resurfaces. Family tensions emerge. New revelations continue arriving one after another. It’s undeniably busy. And honestly, noisy, too.
Once the dating-coach arrangement becomes the story’s central engine, however, the novel settles into its rhythm. Julian functions almost as an audience surrogate, learning alongside readers why Leti’s family relationships are so strained, why she presents such a guarded exterior and what experiences shaped her approach to intimacy. His perspective allows readers to assemble those emotional pieces gradually rather than being handed every answer immediately. That gradual unfolding also benefits the romance.
Give the plot some time to land
For a novel that spends so much time discussing physical intimacy, it’s refreshingly patient about depicting it. Conversations around attraction, boundaries and consent arrive long before the relationship becomes physical, making every progression feel thoughtful rather than inevitable. The resulting slow burn feels earned precisely because neither character is pretending to be someone they aren’t.
It’s a deceptively simple observation that quietly asks the question sitting underneath the entire novel: what does attraction actually look like when it doesn’t follow conventional expectations?
“That seems like an awful lot of work to put into someone you feel tepid about.”
If there’s one area where the novel could benefit from focus, it’s in its opening act. The setup introduces numerous intersecting connections before settling on the storyline that ultimately matters most. While each thread contributes something to the characters, the accumulation of inciting incidents makes those early chapters feel slightly scattered. The emotional core is always present, but it takes a little while for the narrative to settle for us to fully trust it.
Similarly, the novel’s vibrant illustrated cover suggests something considerably steamier than the story it actually tells. In reality, Second First Dates is far more interested in emotional compatibility than physical chemistry, making it a gentler, more introspective romance than its packaging might initially imply.
Ultimately, Gabriella Gamez succeeds because she makes her characters more than just representatives of identities; they feel like multi-dimensional, real people. Their views on relationships aren’t treated as lessons or plot devices. They’re simply part of who they are. That honesty gives the romance a refreshing authenticity and quietly expands the kinds of love stories the genre gets to tell. For its sheerly refreshing protagonists alone, this book is a solid 4.25 stars.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing an advance review copy (ARC). All opinions expressed are my own.