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448 pages, Paperback
First published August 5, 2025
💭 ❛ 𝛢𝜈𝘰𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝘵ℎ𝑎𝘵 𝑐𝘰𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑢𝑟𝘵 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝘵 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝜈𝑒 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑤𝑖𝘵ℎ 𝑛𝘰𝘵ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝘵 𝑎𝑙𝑙. ❜ 💭
💌 “𝘚ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝘵... 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝑚𝑒, 𝑦𝘰𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝘰𝑤?”
“ 𝐼 𝑑𝘰𝑛'𝘵 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑚𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟,” ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑠, 𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑘𝑛𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝘰𝜈𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑘. “𝑌𝘰𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝜈𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝘵𝘰 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑.” 💌
“Whatever you want out of this life, and I’ll have it done.”
His hands circle my waist, and he’s sighing, breathing me in. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and nowhere, I realize, that I cannot go as long as we are together. “What if all I want is you?”
“Like you once said to me...” Another kiss. Warm hands on my back...
And when he speaks again, I’m reminded how we got here. How his voice alone drew me to him like a siren’s call that terrifying day on a Greyhound bus heading for Memphis. His lyrical baritone. My home in a sound.
“I’m yours.”
There’s a loneliness to that mental admission—the realization of how few people I’ve let in. I’m an island—a selfimposed one, but still—yet he’s become the constant, peaceful waves lapping at my shores.
That’s one of the worst parts of an invisible illness like this one. No way to confirm what it is, just what it’s not. Rational problem solvers like myself are kept up at night by the fact that not only is there no definite diagnosis, there’s also no cure.
“Sweet as honey from the bee, is my fruit from the evergreen tree. Voice of a swallow, just as free, I only hear music when she’s with me.”
“I’ve never thought myself exceptionally small, but from the floor, sandwiched between his humongous knees, I am a Tiny Girl™.”
That’s how good I am at this whole romantic humaninteraction thing: we kiss, I reject him, (likely) puke on him, force him to drive me seven and a half hours across the country, and when he does something thoughtful or chivalrous I get sad and moody because I have feelings I don’t know what to do with.
With each rip of his guitar and sailing chorus from the depths of his chest, I realize more and more that Tom Halloran is the most sensual, soulful, roaringly talented musician I’ve ever borne witness to. His voice has a swaggering fullness to it—round and smooth and complex. An intimacy, though he’s playing to thousands.
Thank you to Netgalley and Berkley for providing me early access to If Not for My Baby in exchange for an honest review. All opinions are my own.