I’m a relatively new fan of Sara Dobie Bauer but I have loved all of her books that I’ve read. She writes in a wide variety of MM genres. I’ve read a vampire story, a romance about the aftermath of a horrible incident on a college campus and now Abstract Love, a contemporary enemies-to-lovers story.

I pretty much fell in love with Sam and Donovan right away. Sam is sweet and quirky; Donovan is a jerk who is eventually redeemed. Both of these characters are broken but in different ways.

We don’t find out what broke Sam until quite a ways into the story – although there were bread crumbs that kept the details from being a huge surprise. On the other hand, we learn about Donovan’s problem right from the beginning – his wife left him.

The two of them are completely mis-matched. Donovan dresses smartly, in business attire. Sam loves quirky, avant-garde clothes; his socks are a particular aggravation for Donovan. It doesn’t take long before the hate between them turns to hot, sexual tension. This confuses the heck out of Donovan because he’s always considered himself straight. But he can’t seem to fight his attraction to the beautiful Sam.

I loved everything about this book and read way too late into the wee hours of the morning to finish it. The writing grabbed me and kept me engaged. As a former Ohio resident now living in Florida, I enjoyed reading the writer’s vivid description of winter in Cleveland.

There are many interesting supporting characters and I particularly loved Donovan’s assistant, Monica and Sam’s brother Joe.

I’m really looking forward to reading more books by this author.

Reviews for Sara Dobie Bauer

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Donovan sifted through a few hand-drawn logos on the desk and froze when he found a crudely drawn sketch of himself. Sam must have done it during a meeting at some point, capturing Donovan’s faux hawk, wide jaw, and severe expression.

Jesus, was this what other people saw when they looked at him? Did he really look so miserable?

“Make yourself at home?”

Donovan dropped the picture and stood straight at the sound of Sam’s voice.

He leaned against the doorframe, with one ankle crossed over the other.

“It’s really bullshit when people say that, you know?” Sam said. “Make yourself at home. No one actually wants their friends to take off their pants, drink all their beer, and binge The Great British Bake Off.” He paused. “What are you doing in my office?”

“I didn’t mean to snoop.”

The office door closed as he stepped inside. “Sure you did, or you wouldn’t be in here, so what’s up?”

Sam circled the desk, so Donovan circled the other way, although he noticed it was true what coworkers said: Sam did smell good—like clean laundry and cedar. “I think we started off on the wrong foot.”

Sam snort laughed and flipped through some files on his desk. “More like wrong continent, man.” When he found what he was looking for, he tapped the file’s corner against his palm. “I can handle guys like you, you know.”

Donovan shifted back on his heels. “Guys like me?”

“Hmm. Corporate assholes. All you see are dollar signs. You take no pleasure in your work. Advertising is money to you, not art, but without the artists, there wouldn’t be advertising, so…” He sucked his cheeks into his mouth, a momentary fish face.

Donovan wanted to tell him it wasn’t true. Donovan loved art.

He used to love art.

Sam continued, “I know I look like a six-foot-two Disney princess, but you’re not gonna rattle me.” To prove his point, Sam got right up in Donovan’s personal space until Donovan took a step back. Again, he was not used to dealing with someone his own height. “And I’m right about the Great Lakes ad campaign. If you’d pull your head out of your ass, maybe you’d notice.” He turned away abruptly.

“Sam.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry.” Ouch, that hurt coming out.

Sam’s rebuttal: “Prove it.”

“Excuse me?”

He rested a hand on the desk and cocked his hip out—the very picture of young attitude. “Listen to me in meetings.”

“I was listening.”

“Nope.” He shook his head and ran a hand through his unkempt, unprofessional hair. “No, you were hearing. I need you to listen. There’s a difference. And I know I’m just some fucking kid to you, but I ruled the New York City advertising scene. I know what I’m doing, Donovan, so let me do it.”

“Fine.” He’d had enough. He’d apologized, okay, so he’d done his Monica-enforced duty. He didn’t owe Sam anything else.

He didn’t run for the door, but he definitely moved with speed.