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Sameer Gudhate Presents the Book Review of The Do-Over by Lynn Painter

  • Writer: Sameer Gudhate
    Sameer Gudhate
  • 1 hour ago
  • 4 min read

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There are days that taste like heartbreak — metallic and cold — and there are days that smell of rain-soaked second chances. The Do-Over by Lynn Painter lives somewhere between the two, looping endlessly in that bittersweet space where pain and hope take turns holding your heart.

 

I still remember my first Lynn Painter read — Better Than the Movies — a warm, quirky rom-com that made me believe in the healing power of laughter. Painter has that uncanny gift: she writes teen stories that hum with grown-up emotions, and grown-up stories that twinkle with youthful wonder. In The Do-Over, she takes the Groundhog Day trope — the dreaded “time loop” — and spins it into something achingly real, surprisingly funny, and, at times, quietly profound.

 

The story begins on what should’ve been Emilie Hornby’s perfect Valentine’s Day — the dress, the gift, the big “I love you” moment all lined up. But life, as it loves to do, laughs at her plans. Within a few hours, her car is wrecked (thanks to a collision with the ever-enigmatic Nick Stark), her fellowship dream collapses, and she catches her boyfriend Josh locking lips with his ex. It’s the kind of day you want to erase from memory — except Emilie can’t. She wakes up the next morning to find it’s still Valentine’s Day. And the next. And the next.

 

The premise sounds like a rom-com fever dream — and in many ways, it is — but Painter’s storytelling glides effortlessly between laughter and ache. She captures the claustrophobia of repetition: the way heartbreak feels heavier when replayed, and the strange freedom that comes when you realize consequences can be rewritten. Through Emilie’s do-overs, we witness not just a bad day gone worse, but a young woman confronting the messy, unedited reel of her life — her parents’ divorce, her emotional exhaustion, and her own blurred reflection in the mirror of love.

 

Painter’s prose dances lightly but lands deeply. Her writing has rhythm — quick-witted dialogue balanced by moments of stillness, like the pause before a sigh. Every loop feels slightly altered, not by what happens, but by how Emilie sees it. There’s a line between melodrama and magic, and Painter walks it barefoot. You feel the sharp edges, but you also feel the warmth radiating beneath.

 

And then there’s Nick Stark. Oh, Nick — the kind of character who enters like a plot device and leaves as a quiet revolution. He’s the boy who doesn’t remember her, yet somehow knows her. Each repeated day peels back his layers — the wry humor, the empathy, the weight he carries. Their chemistry isn’t explosive; it’s gradual, gravitational. They orbit closer each loop, and watching that inevitable pull feels like being inside a song you never want to end.

 

What surprised me most wasn’t the romance (though it’s swoon-worthy), but the tenderness with which Painter treats time itself. The loop isn’t just a gimmick — it’s a mirror. Haven’t we all wished for a do-over? To unsay a word, to reroute a moment, to live one day better? Emilie’s cycles are metaphors for every regret we replay in our minds. And when she finally learns to face her chaos instead of editing it, it feels like we’re granted our own small release too.

 

There are flashes of brilliance here — like Emilie’s “Day of No Consequences,” a delicious rebellion where she lets go of every pretense, tasting freedom for the first time. Painter captures the sound of laughter that comes after too many tears — shaky but real. And Emilie’s grandmother deserves her own spin-off: sharp-tongued, wise, and the anchor in Emilie’s storm. Those scenes between them crackle with humour and warmth, grounding the fantasy in something profoundly human.

 

If there’s a quibble, it’s that the middle occasionally lingers in its loops a bit too long — but perhaps that’s the point. Growth isn’t linear, and neither is heartbreak. Painter lets the frustration linger until it transforms into acceptance.

 

Reading The Do-Over felt like sipping cocoa after a heartbreak — warm, messy, slightly too sweet, but exactly what you need. I laughed out loud, winced in recognition, and found myself unexpectedly moved by Emilie’s quiet courage. Painter reminds us that time doesn’t always heal — sometimes it just gives us another chance to get it right.

 

For readers who adored Better Than the Movies or The Summer I Turned Pretty, this one’s a must. But even if YA romance isn’t your usual shelf, give this a chance. Beneath its Valentine-pink cover lies a story about learning to forgive life — and yourself — one loop at a time.

 

And maybe that’s the real do-over we all crave. Not the power to change what happened, but the grace to wake up tomorrow and try again.

 

💫 Pick up The Do-Over. Let it remind you that even the worst days can start to shimmer when you decide to see them differently.

 

 

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