Sometimes you stumble across a romance that makes you grin, sigh, and want to hug the book to your chest when you are done, and The Sexiest Man Alive by Sandra Marton was exactly that for me. I picked it up while hunting for something that would give me the same buzz as The Bedroom Business (another Marton favorite that I have reread countless times), and it delivered in spades. I have to appreciate Amazon for doing such a swell job in recommending this title to me. Equal parts sexy, hilarious, and heart-tugging, this one had me smiling from the first chapter to the very last page.

The premise itself is fun and lighthearted. Susannah Madison, editor at Chic magazine, finds herself at odds with Matthew Romano, a ruthless and commanding businessman who wants to shut down her publication. Susannah, clever and determined, comes up with a scheme to save the magazine: a feature on the “sexiest man alive” for Valentine’s Day. What she doesn’t anticipate is Matthew’s decision to supervise her search, or the way sparks fly between them from the very beginning. Their encounters are deliciously combative, full of sharp banter and sizzling chemistry that neither of them can deny.

Matthew Romano is exactly the sort of hero I love; sexy, commanding, sensitive, and yes, stupid when it comes to matters of the heart. He is a man who has been steadfastly holding on to his bachelorhood, only to find himself helplessly drawn to a woman he once thought of as an adversary.

That push-and-pull is what makes him so compelling; for all his ruthlessness in the boardroom, he loses his cool spectacularly whenever Susannah is near. He pushes her buttons, makes her drop her armor, and forces her to embrace her femininity in ways that both terrify and exhilarate her. He makes her feel, and that is where the power of his character lies.

Susannah, for her part, is just as delightful. Strong-willed, independent, and determined to fight for what she believes in, she matches Matthew every step of the way. From the moment she literally falls into his arms and they kiss each other senseless, to their many fiery clashes where neither one will back down, she proves herself to be every bit his equal. The way she unsettles him, challenges him, and ultimately steals his heart is exactly why this romance works so beautifully.

This book was undoubtedly delicious. What really makes the novel stand out is the hilarity woven into the fabric of their story. The way both Susannah and Matthew tries to deny the elephant in the room, the combustible attraction simmering between them, leads to some truly laugh-out-loud moments that balance the sensuality perfectly.

The sexual tension between Matthew and Susannah is off the charts. Every encounter, whether it is an argument, a negotiation, or an accidental brush of hands, is charged with longing and fire. Their kisses are fiery, their stolen moments laden with passion, and the eventual culmination is everything you would want from an enemies-to-lovers romance, and the eroticism much better than any explicit erotic romance. Add to that a touch of angst, the kind that makes your chest ache in the best possible way, and you have a romance that checks every single box. This is old-school category romance at its best, reminding me of why these classic Mills & Boon romances still stand the test of time.

Recommended for: readers who love old-school Mills & Boon with a perfect blend of wit, humor, fiery sexual tension, and heartfelt emotion. If you enjoyed The Bedroom Business, this one should definitely be next on your list.

Final Verdict: A marvelous story that made my heart happy, with a hero who is sexy, and commanding, and and story that is hilarious and romantic in all the ways that matter. This is one I will be revisiting again and again.

Favorite Quotes

“Mr. Romano.” She licked her lips. “I may have been a little out of line, but—”
“A little?” He closed the distance remaining between them and looked coldly at her as her shoulders hit the wall. “Fascinating, Miss Clinton, how cautious your use of the language has suddenly become. For a woman given to such interesting hyperbole, I mean.” His eyes, dark and deep, fastened on hers. “Once again, I’m asking you to tell me what you mean by that word.”
Susannah swallowed hard. He was close. Too close. She could smell the faint scent of soap on his skin, see the shadow of stubble on his jaw and chin. His lashes were dark and thick. His nose was perfectly straight except for a barely perceptible tilt midway down its length.
He looked cold and hard and angry.
And studly.
He was studly, indeed, she thought dizzily. Her heart did what felt like a somersault in her chest. If you liked the type.
She didn’t.

“Suze?” Claire’s voice was shrill. “Suze, are you okay?”
Matthew dragged one of Susannah’s arms from around his neck.
“She’s fine,” he called.
Susannah glared at him. “I’m not—”
He clamped a hand over her mouth
“You want them to see this mess?” he hissed, his mouth at her ear. “Do you have an explanation that’s going to keep everybody out there from figuring we just slugged it out?”
Susannah threw a wild look around the room. Papers were strewn across the floor. The heavy conference table stood at an angle to the wall. The lamp had shattered, and the telephone was emitting a pathetic bleep. And on top of all that, here she was, sitting cozily in Matthew Romano’s lap.

“Susannah,” he said fiercely.
She looked at him. His eyes were hot and dark with desire.
A shudder raced through her. She knew that what was going to happen between them would change her life forever, would make any other lover impossible.
“Yes,” she said, raising her arms to him, “yes. yes…”
The door swung open, hitting the wall like a clap of thunder rolling over the canyons of the city. “Oh, my God! Susannah!”
Susannah almost fell off the table.
She sat up. Matthew stepped back. Both of them stared at the open door, where Claire and Eddie and Judy and, Susannah thought desperately, what looked like a million other CHIC staffers stood crowded together in stunned silence. It was like staring into a sea of disbelief. Mouths hung open. Eyes grew round as saucers. Heads swiveled, as if this were a tennis match, while everyone looked from Susannah to Matthew, from Matthew to Susannah…

Matthew’s gaze flew over her again, taking in all the details. A black suit had replaced the Beethoven sweatshirt and the baggy jeans. The suit was demure, even severe, but it couldn’t disguise the curves beneath.
Black shoes had replaced the sneakers. Not just any black shoes. Matthew swallowed hard. The heels were high. Not outrageously high. They were surely some Fifth Avenue shop’s idea of dress-for-success shoes to match the dress-for-success suit, but high enough to show off the trimness of Susannah’s ankles and the luscious length of her legs. And they were cut low enough in the front so he could see…what did you call those little lines between a woman’s toes? Cleavage?
He wanted to laugh—the word, the very concept, seemed so outrageous—but how could he laugh when he was busy concentrating on keeping his jaw from dropping again?

What kind of a man kissed a woman he didn’t like with such passion?
A better question was, what kind of woman kissed him back? And she was kissing him. There was no point in pretending otherwise.
Matthew was feasting on her mouth, and she was on fire for him, for his kisses and his touch.
Some still logical part of her fought for sanity.
“No.” she said, against his mouth, “Matthew, we can’t…”
He tunneled his fingers into her hair, tilted her face to his.
“Just kiss me,” he said thickly, “kiss me and stop thinking.”

“Well,” he said.
“Well,” she said.
“Good night, Susannah.”
“Good night, Matthew.”
He turned. She put her hand on the doorknob. He stepped into the hall. She began to shut the door…
“The hell with this,” he growled, and swung toward her. “Dammit, Susannah,” he said, and before his heart could take another beat, she was in his arms.
He lifted her, and she wound her arms around his neck as his hand tunneled into her hair. He kicked the door shut and kissed her without preliminaries, without gentleness. Why would there be wooing when they both knew that this moment had been inevitable?

“No more games, Susannah.”
“No,” she whispered, stroking the tip of her tongue against his, reveling in the heavy beat of his heart against hers. “No more games, Matthew.”
He tasted of danger and of darkness. Of the heady wildness of desire.
She tasted of hunger and of need. Of the sweetness of passion.
“I want—I want—”
“Everything,” he whispered, and kissed her again.

“I’ll come by at seven. We can have drinks first.”
“Matthew, I don’t—”
“Yes. You do.” His eyes turned dark and smoky. “Shall I prove it to you the way I did this morning?”
Color flooded her face.
“Why?” she whispered.
He laughed, a low, sexy laugh that made her blood sizzle.
“I mean,” she said quickly, “why me? I’m not your type.”
“No,” he said. He ran his finger along the back of her hand. Goose bumps rose on her skin. “You’re not.” He smiled again, right into her eyes. “You’re not blond. You’re not dumb—although many of the ladies I’ve dated would be very upset to hear you use that word in conjunction with them, Susie.” His smile tilted. “I remember Miss North Carolina… She said she wanted to become a physicist.”
“Matthew, I’m serious.”
“So am I.” His smile faded. “You’re right. You’re not my type. You’re stubborn and hotheaded. You have a nasty temper and you like things your own way.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” she said huffily.
“And I’d bet I’m not your type either, Madison. I don’t think you like being with a man who reminds you that you’re a woman.”
“Your ego is unbearable, Romano.”
“I’m just being honest.” His eyes grew hot. “Tell me if Sam or Peter ever made you feel the way I make you feel.”
Sam. And Peter. Oh, God…
“I can see the answer in your eyes, Susie.” Matthew smiled. “Seven o’clock. Don’t keep me waiting I like my women to be prompt.”
“I am not your—”
He bent his head and kissed her lightly on the mouth. Then he sauntered away.

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