There’s his Wikipedia page, his social media feeds, countless news articles, interviews, and photos. It’s jarring seeing the photos of him in action on the rugby field because he looks nothing like the man I’ve come to know.
He looks feral. Ferocious. Frightening. Like he’s released from a maximum security prison on short-term leave only for his games. There isn’t a single photograph of him smiling.

J.T. Geissinger does it again. Melt for You is one of those rare contemporary romances that slips in quietly, makes you laugh out loud, makes your heart clench, and then when you least expect it, melts you into a puddle of goo. It is smart, tender, outrageously funny, and a masterclass in how to write a transformative slow burn with two characters who simply shine together.

Joellen Bixby has spent most of her thirty-six years blending into the wallpaper, a self-effacing copy editor who lives for routine, her Saturday nights with her cat, and her entirely unrequited ten-year crush on her too-perfect boss, Michael Maddox. Joellen’s upbringing has done a number on her: an ex-model mother, a glamorous sister, and years of subtle and not-so-subtle messaging that she is the odd one out. Her low self-esteem is bone-deep, and Geissinger paints it with painful accuracy, often softened with Joellen’s razor-sharp, hilarious inner monologues.

Enter Cameron McGregor: a tattooed, kilt-wearing Scottish rugby captain whose bad-boy image precedes him. He moves in next door, rocks Joellen’s carefully ordered world on day one, and never once apologizes for it. Cocky, provocative, physically unstoppable and yet so unexpectedly gentle, Cam sees Joellen in ways she has never been seen before. And even though the book is told entirely from Joellen’s point of view, it becomes obvious early on that Cam is a goner. His pursuit is not filled with grand gestures or declarations, but consistency, care, and a kind of stubborn devotion disguised as irritation.

As their friendship grows, so does the tension; beautifully paced, painfully slow, positively electric. Cam becomes Joellen’s personal trainer not to chisel her into someone else’s ideal, but to make her strong, healthy, and confident. Every interaction between them (even the bickering) is charged, layered, and purposeful. The “practice kissing” scenes are some of the sexiest, sweetest writing Geissinger has ever done, and when the story finally tips into full-blown intimacy, it is both tender and scorching, delivered with surprising softness for the notorious playboy Scot.

I loved Joellen’s relatability; her insecurities, her humor, her resilience. And Cam? He is the book boyfriend those of us who have had body image issues never knew we needed. His backstory adds emotional heft to why he champions Joellen so fiercely, and why her self-loathing wounds him in ways she does not understand. If anything, I only wished we had had even a little of his POV, because his quiet unraveling in the background is half the magic.

This is a story about seeing and being seen, about shedding years of internalized criticism, and about a love that was never about transforming Joellen into someone else, but about helping her become the version of herself she never believed she could be.

Recommended for: Readers who love slow burns, sunshine-meets-storm-cloud dynamics, body-positive arcs, grumpy-but-smitten heroes, laugh-out-loud banter, and kisses written like poetry.

Final Verdict: A tender, funny, deeply satisfying slow burn with a Scottish hero who redefines swoon. A heartfelt knockout.

Favorite Quotes

“Keep up!” Cam barks over his shoulder at me as I lag behind him on the sidewalk, breath steaming white from my nose and open mouth, sweat pouring into my eyes, my will to live quickly being extinguished.
“Must. Stop. Death. Imminent.” My wheezing and staggering frightens a flock of pigeons into screeching flight from their perch on the back of a bus bench.
Cam turns around and trots back to me. He hasn’t even broken a sweat, the heartless bastard. “Joellen,” he begins patiently. “We’re two blocks from the apartment.”

“Is it . . . okay?”
He swallows. His blink seems to last an unnaturally long time. He clears his throat and offers a curt, “Yup.”
“Yup? That’s it?” I look down at myself, regretting the heels. Maybe I look slutty. Maybe there’s too much boob showing. Oh God, maybe I was wrong about the color—
“Joellen.”
Cam’s sharp tone yanks me out of my head and back into reality. “Huh?” I stare at him, wringing my hands.
Slowly and softly, holding my gaze as he enunciates every word, he says, “You. Look. Sexy. As. Fuck.”

“Promise me something,” he whispers into my hair.
“What?”
“No matter what happens with Michael, we’ll still be friends.”
“I thought you didn’t want to be friends.”
His sigh is a big gust of air. “God, you’re an idiot.”

“You were in therapy? For years?”
“I worked on my head as hard as I worked on my body. Can’t say the effect was as successful, but yeah. Therapy. Seein’ how badly my mum was mind fucked by life, I’ve always been into self-improvement. I also read a lot. Everything, really, biographies to history to politics. I didn’t go to college—gettin’ through secondary school with a learnin’ disability was tough enough—but I do love to read.”
He’s all that he is, and he loves books. Why, universe? Why give me this with someone who has a life on the other side of the world? I snuggle closer to him, breathing in his wonderful, warm scent, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “You don’t seem particularly angry to me, prancer.”
He chuckles and nuzzles his nose into my hair. “Beauty tames the savage beast, I suppose.”

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