Books, Boots and Bakeries

I went into Role Model knowing I wasn’t supposed to like the main character, and honestly? Mission accomplished. But that’s what makes Rachel Reid so good—she takes a character you don’t want to like and makes you care anyway.

Troy Barrett has been an arrogant, homophobic, antagonistic mess in previous books, and Role Model doesn’t try to erase that. Instead, it leans into his redemption arc, showing a man who is actively trying to unlearn years of toxicity and make amends. He’s deeply flawed, uncomfortable with himself, and more than a little frustrating—but that’s the point. Watching him grow is what makes this book so satisfying.

Enter Harris, the social media manager for Troy’s new team, who is basically sunshine in human form—a modern-day Pollyanna, really. And honestly? He annoyed me too. He’s kind, confident, and unshakeable in his belief that people can change, but something about him didn’t quite click for me. Their dynamic is a slow burn built on patience, accountability, and, eventually, undeniable chemistry.

What makes Role Model shine is how it handles redemption. It doesn’t happen overnight, and it’s not easy. Troy stumbles, struggles, and has to confront the damage he’s done. But the book never lets him off the hook—it makes him work for his happiness, and that makes the ending feel earned.

Honestly, I don’t think this was the book for me. But it has a place in the series, and I loved catching up with old friends. I also realise that it’s clearly a me problem, and there are so many people out there who will rightfully love these two characters. If you enjoy a redemption arc done right, Role Model is well worth the read.