ARC Review: "If Not for My Baby" by Kate Golden ★★★

ARC Review: If Not for My Baby by Kate Golden

This Hozier-inspired rockstar romance is sizzling with chemistry that should appeal to fans of the artist – but I regret to inform you he is less a muse here and more a whole blueprint. 🎸 While it has tropes like opposites attract, he falls first, yearning, “don’t touch her” along with found family, and it makes for a touching read, there were some things about this that didn’t sit well with me. 🎶

“Whatever you want out of this life, and I’ll have it done.”
His hands circle my waist, and he’s sighing, breathing me in. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, and nowhere, I realize, that I cannot go as long as we are together. “What if all I want is you?”
“Like you once said to me...” Another kiss. Warm hands on my back...
And when he speaks again, I’m reminded how we got here. How his voice alone drew me to him like a siren’s call that terrifying day on a Greyhound bus heading for Memphis. His lyrical baritone. My home in a sound.
“I’m yours.”

[Contains some spoilers]

PLOT SUMMARY
24-year-old Clementine “Clem” Bonnie Clark works as a waitress – alas not in a cocktaaail barrr (couldn’t resist a reference to The Human League) – in a diner run by her once-ex-now-best-friend Mike. She yearns to be in the musical theatres of Broadway, but unfortunately has had to put those dreams to rest to look after her single mother Diane who has fibromyalgia, a chronic illness. A disbeliever in love after past disappointments surrounding her mother and personal fear of commitment, she has another date go wrong.

Clem’s life takes an unexpected turn when her best friend from theatre and fellow backup singer, Everly, gets an opportunity to open for a country singer. Everly asks Clem to step in as her replacement for Halloran’s show, a gig that promises money more than enough to enrol her mother in the clinical trial to help her. Mike and his mother Beth offer to look after Diane in the meantime, so she agrees to do this.

After missing sound check and rushing straight to the show, Clem meets and gets along well with the band: consisting of keyboardist Grayson, bassist Conor, drummer Wren, lead backing vocalist Molly, as well as sound engineer Pete and photographer Indy.

It is only when she is up on stage that she meets the 32-year-old, very tall (we’re talking 6ft 6) Irish singer, Thomas “Tom” Patrick Halloran himself – though he seems gruff and dismissive of her. But behind the spotlights, in an insightful discussion of music one night, Clem discovers the man has so much depth and passion. From there, the chemistry between them is as electrifying as his guitar. Her soprano voice pairs with his better than Molly’s alto and she becomes the lead singer for his duet single “If Not for My Baby”.

Despite their differences, Clem is drawn to Tom and they spend time together. But there are complications: the woman Clara, the paparazzi, the age gap, the fact he is a pop star – perhaps even only interested in having her as inspiration and nothing more! Worse of all: people may spread rumours she only got the duet because they mess around. As the 8 weeks of the tour come to an end, will Clem and Tom survive the glare of the spotlight and the complications of their vastly different lives?

There’s a loneliness to that mental admission—the realization of how few people I’ve let in. I’m an island—a selfimposed one, but still—yet he’s become the constant, peaceful waves lapping at my shores.

This is told from the first-person present-tense POV of Clem.

OVERALL OPINIONS
I have such deeply mixed feelings about this book. It’s been a while since I’ve read rockstar romances, and I was so eager to dig in when I discovered this was Hozier-inspired, he’s one of my favourite artists (and honestly who doesn’t love him?).

ㅤ🎸🎵🎶music to my ears🎼🎤🎧
I loved most of the way this was written (see my favourite quotes below because the descriptions were *chefs kiss*), especially the moment where Clem and Tom sing that different version of If Not for My Baby – the tension and desire were off the charts. The yearning that Tom has as well was so swoon-worthy – as well as his depth of a character, being more than a superstar and in fact a humble man with a traumatic past who shot to fame because of it. I was invested in a few secondary characters like Molly, and Indy and her ex (despite there not being much plot concerning that). The found family that Clem gets through the band is charming. There were a few great and intriguing aspects like what is Molly hiding, what is Tom’s past. And there were some excellent plot twists at the end that I didn’t anticipate.

What really worked was the realistic elements of plot itself. The representation of chronic illness via Clem’s mother was another very touching aspect and as someone who knows people with chronic health issues where it is so difficult to get a diagnosis, this was especially handled well.

That’s one of the worst parts of an invisible illness like this one. No way to confirm what it is, just what it’s not. Rational problem solvers like myself are kept up at night by the fact that not only is there no definite diagnosis, there’s also no cure.

I relate very much to Clem’s arc in terms of the burdens of looking after family and guilt when she is away from them. I think this was one of the aspects done well, particularly the scene where she says to Diane she cannot change her entire life and her mother interrupts with “What life?”. That hit me hard.

The issue that women can be seen as only being talented or working their way to the top not on their own merit but through sleeping with men was raised here. I like that it was, because it draws relevant attention to the unfair scrutiny and double standards women face even today in male-dominated industries. Beyond that, the book also effectively highlights the scary everyday issue of men who cannot handle rejection from women and become abusive towards them as an outcome.

ㅤ🎸🎵🎶Halloran – or Hozier 2.0?🎼🎤🎧
One thing that seems a little concerning is that Kate Golden herself in the acknowledgements says “An enormous thank-you to the inspiration behind If Not for My Baby. Your music has moved me in a way very few things in life tend to.” – yet she does not explicitly say Hozier. I’ve read books where Taylor Swift is thanked for simply providing background music during writing sessions! Now, this deliberate vagueness feels less like humble gratitude and more like an attempt to sidestep the association, despite the overwhelming evidence within the story.

It is not like Halloran being inspired by Hozier is a secret: the book and song by Halloran is called If Not for My Baby when shortened is INFMB, closely resembling NFWMB by Hozier short for Nothing F*cks With My Baby. More than that though, a TikTok video in November 2024 was captioned “GUYS I WROTE THE HOZIERMANCE” (explicitly referring to this story as she transitions from the laptop screen of Hozier to the reveal of her book cover). One of the comments said “I want Hozier to read this out loud for us” to which she responded “I would die of mortification” which is rather understandable and amusing.

However, it raises the question: what if he *did* read it? If you’re writing a book so clearly based on a real person with adult content, knowing they could stumble upon it, is this how you’d choose to write it? I would consider speaking with the person you were basing it on and get their permission before publishing, particularly since Hozier seems a private man.

Don’t get me wrong, this sort of fanfiction-turned-bestseller has been done before. We all know the After series on Wattpad was based on One Direction before the names and plot were changed and that got published. And remember EL James wrote the 50 Shades series which was a Twilight fanfiction. More recently, Daisy Jones and the Six was inspired by the band Fleetwood Mac (and its subsequent show was received well by Stevie Nicks). The depiction of real individuals can also go the other way, as shown by Pamela Anderson when she felt distressed and violated by the Pam & Tommy series, which (though not based on a book) depicted intimate and traumatic parts of her life without her consent. But despite such precedents, If Not for My Baby goes a step further, entering ethically questionable territory that borders on the latter point.

The issue itself lies in the fact Halloran is far too similar to Hozier that it’s not an inspiration, it’s a direct clone of him. And that I think pushes boundaries and causes a lot of discomfort for some readers. The comparisons include:
• singer (Halloran is on album 2 (working on #3 at the end), Hozier is on album 3)
• Irish origin (Halloran is from County Kerry, Hozier is from County Wicklow)
• height (whilst Halloran is 6ft 6, Hozier is 6ft 5)
• looks (same hair, same Jesus-like appearance and worship by fans)
• his titles (Halloran is a bog creature and forest god, Hozier is known as the bog man and forest king/daddy)
• the name Eden (Halloran’s former girlfriend, Hozier’s song From Eden)
• Fox (Halloran’s gf Eden helps one, Hozier’s song In The Woods Somewhere Hozier talks about encountering an injured one)

Other than 5ft nothing me getting whiplash at the very thought of that height (does he really need to be that tall?? 6ft 2 or under is good enough for me, I don’t know about the rest of you – and that would stray away from him being 99% Hozier), the parallels extend far beyond meagre details.

Halloran’s personality and habits like his maintenance of privacy, intellectualism, reading poets like Yeats, and connection to nature mirror Hozier’s persona almost exactly. His song lyrics echo Hozier’s distinctive blend of wildlife and spiritual and sensual themes, with titles like Heart of Darkness (“your heart, love, has such darkness” from De Selby Pt 2), Consume My Heart Away (Eat Your Young), and Meadowlark (Shrike). There are the album names too: To The End (All Things End/Hozier’s 3rd album Unreal Unearth) and both Kingfisher (Shrike/Hozier’s 2nd album Wasteland, Baby! since the cover had him underwater and Kingfishers dive into water).

The lyrics of the song Halloran sings about Clementines feel rather similar to Hozier’s Wildflower and Barley and Would That I:

“Sweet as honey from the bee, is my fruit from the evergreen tree. Voice of a swallow, just as free, I only hear music when she’s with me.”

My rating truly went from 5 to 4 to 3 as the book went on because of this. I wouldn’t have minded if he had the Jesus image but had a completely different music genre, personality (grumpy instead of shy), the songs subjects being more about mythology, or his origin.

ㅤ🎸🎵🎶sour notes🎼🎤🎧
Beyond the extensive Hozier blueprinting, certain narrative choices also felt uncomfortable. This scene where Clem is kneeling before Tom:

“I’ve never thought myself exceptionally small, but from the floor, sandwiched between his humongous knees, I am a Tiny Girl™.”

While a short woman is a trope in so many books (hence the trademark symbol), it isn’t great that there is a clothing brand for children called Tiny Girl too. Both of these things problematically infantilise Clem in an NSFW scene that should never have child-like comparisons/associations (even if used unintentionally and more to indicate the size differences). Some people already hate age gap romances, and this will only put them further off.

There were some characters that were not spent on enough – like Clem’s best friend Everly, who she barely interacts with when I think she should have actually sought her advice – and others who went from 100 to 0 far too quickly. Grayson’s character is the perfect example of the latter point. We go from the two of them laughing and having normal conversations “There’s something familiar about him and it makes me feel a little less homesick” to him 16% of the way into the story giving her advice that apparently was him putting her down according to Clem. I had initially interpreted it as him trying to help her fit in and not get on the wrong side of Halloran until she explicitly stated this was him negging her. And then he’s constantly flirting and coming onto her afterwards. This should have been fleshed out some more and altered so he is nicer to Clem – this would make him less a predator and more a friend and stereotypical “nice guy” who actually has been wanting to sleep with Clem. This would make his arc less predictable and something I saw miles away. The same goes for Jen, this would have made her villain arc even more of a shock.

The fact Clem was late for sound check and is pretty much blamed for a situation she herself was not responsible for (a typo by the manager herself who did not correct herself) was probably the most foolish and annoying thing I’ve ever read.

ㅤ🎸🎵🎶to conclude🎼🎤🎧
You can see why I am so torn about this. I really love rockstar romances so it was good to see this, and I have shelved it under my favourites because some of this I can personally overlook and I adore the descriptions in here. However, I don’t think this fanfiction should have been published as a book without it being discussed with the inspiration in question.

<< Positives >>
🠚 The book cover!
🠚 Engaging writing with high tension and great descriptions
🠚 Deep, swoon-worthy MMC
🠚 The romance
🠚 Charming found family trope
🠚 Chronic illness representation
🠚 Relatable MFC
🠚 Raises sexism and abuse issues

<< Negatives >>
🠚 Vague Hozier acknowledgement
🠚 Halloran is too much of a clone than inspiration of Hozier which makes this ethically questionable
🠚 “Tiny Girl” infantilisation
🠚 Inconsistent side characters like Everly
🠚 Plot inconsistencies

CHARACTERS
-ˋˏ ꒰ Clem꒱ ˎˊ-
↳ I couldn’t be more different than her as I am the hopeless romantic but I understand why she would want to run. I was rooting for her at every opportunity.

That’s how good I am at this whole romantic humaninteraction thing: we kiss, I reject him, (likely) puke on him, force him to drive me seven and a half hours across the country, and when he does something thoughtful or chivalrous I get sad and moody because I have feelings I don’t know what to do with.

-ˋˏ ꒰ Tom꒱ ˎˊ-
↳ Would that all men have the sort of brains, love and devotion this man has. His yearning is insane!

With each rip of his guitar and sailing chorus from the depths of his chest, I realize more and more that Tom Halloran is the most sensual, soulful, roaringly talented musician I’ve ever borne witness to. His voice has a swaggering fullness to it—round and smooth and complex. An intimacy, though he’s playing to thousands.

FAV QUOTES
• “Devoting your entire life to the pursuit of another person, when human beings are all so inherently flawed, and expecting said flawed human to fix all the broken parts of you just so you can convince yourself that you’re whole is a recipe for disappointment.”
• It’s not a feeling I can relate to, but that’s what’s so magical about musical theater. About music in general: it’s all the escapism of storytelling but with the added arsenal of slowbuilding chords and plunging vocals. You feel it in every part of you—the tap of your feet, the tears in your eyes, the tingle at the back of your neck. It’s as close to being swept away as one can get.
• He sings of solitude and ennui, the climate apocalypse, worshipping a woman’s mind and body and the “exquisite rhapsody” of falling in love. But mostly, he sings of heartbreak. Yearning. Begging on his knees. Someone clearly trampled this man’s heart into the ground. And then threw it into a wood chipper. Repeatedly.
• There’s a fantasy to music made about romantic love. A whimsy of sorts. Whether it’s describing elation or devastation— the narrative beauty helps the song Trojan-horse right past all my protective barriers.
• I crane my neck up. And up, and *up*. Until my gaze lands on Halloran’s eyes. They are the richest green on earth. The green of a lush wood untouched by man. • He looks like a handsome, mournful druid. His eyes are endless. “Hey.” His deep voice still sends my stomach plummeting. Not just the depth of it, but how gentle his speaking voice is compared to that rich heaviness with which he sings.
• Halloran laughs again and I’m hit with the strangest urge to store all his laughs somewhere safe. Cram them into a little treasure box and bury them in my backyard.
• “Don’t diminish your awe. The world’s a fine place; there’s plenty worth bein’ moved by.”
• “So what does ‘dating’ Tom Halloran look like, then?” | He smirks down at his hands, wrapped softly around the epic poem. It’s like it was shrunk in the wash, so dwarfed by his grasp. “I could show you.” My mind stalls. Scatters and reconfigures. Sharper and blurrier all at once.
• I’d rather drown in the onslaught of all our shared desire.
• ‘Come back here.’ I read it, and then reread it. My heart has stalled out, wheezing on its hands and knees.
• His cleverness, his subtle yet bald flirtation—I’m a greedy addict. I’d do appalling things for just one hit more.
• The audience is inconsolable. They know they’ve witnessed something different tonight. A new, less polished version of the song. Tom dips his head to them and then staggers back to stare *directly* at me. His eyes are the green you can see through. A stormy, crystalline sea. They pierce mine from across the stage. No humor. No playful smirk. *Searing.* It’s a promise of what’s to come.
• I cannot fake—cannot *perform*—what that does to me. Our eyes are locked as the rich, final note splits from both my lips and his. I don’t even need my own mic—our faces are so close we share his, held between us. The melancholic tune pulses through us, my chest aching as I sing directly to Tom, and him to me. The duet ends. I close my eyes. Tom tips my chin up with his thumb, stooping to bring his head toward mine, and I think for a brief, impossible moment, that he’s going to kiss me. I lean into him like warm honey over the curve of a spoon. Our noses brush, his forehead pressed to mine, our sweat mingling. If there’s a cheering audience, I can’t hear a peep.
• Lapping and toying, clumsy and teasing. Nothing has ever felt as good as being kissed with reckless abandon by Tom Halloran. His kisses are like his music: passionate, thoughtful, devastating. There’s a new quality to this kiss, too, though. As if we both know we’re on the precipice of something. Higher than a cliff or bridge. This kiss feels like falling at warp speed through the stratosphere.
• “I need more,” I tell him, as serious as I’ve ever been. “Please. It hurts.” | “Baby.” His eyes darken. “I’ll take care of you, I swear it.”
• “Nothing about you is *just* anything.” | And I can see it in his eyes. That look of reverence, of worship. Of white-hot desire. He’s going to wring me out and make me beg. He’s a man who tortures himself—you can hear it in his music—he’s a glutton for punishment, for driving the edge of the knife deeper.
• His hand is magic. He plays me like his guitar—dexterous and with ease. Driven by innate instinct and a punishing, raw need.
• When my palm is enclosed in his, I can hardly collect myself. My body heat alone is going to set this exorbitantly priced dress to flame.
• And when he looks at me like that, those mesmerizing green eyes steadfast on mine—I know he means it. Everything around us fades to dappled light. I no longer know what city we’re fleeing or which we’re barreling toward. I have no clue what kind of pain awaits me at the end of this tour and beyond. But here, in Tom’s bed, in his arms, the music flowing through us both, unencumbered by Cherry Grove or labels or any responsibilities altogether—here, we are free.
• [Tom’s] voice harmonizing with each of ours. Wren’s low register, Molly’s impressive warble. This moment—a family like I’ve never known, the music that lives in us, the end of a journey that’s changed me—it’s like clean air on a mountaintop. Rainfall in your ears. It’s shimmering. It’s alive. Transcendent. Tears spring to my eyes.
• And that’s why they call it *falling* in love, right? Because while I’d had my stupid head in the clouds, romanticizing a halo of sunlight around Thomas Patrick Halloran, I had forgotten that flying always leads to free fall—to plummeting down through reality until you’re mere rubble and wreckage
• His eyes are wet. Harrowing green and bloodshot red, like a forest ravaged by wildfire. “I can’t promise you a life free of sorrow. Nobody can. But I can swear to shelter the heart of ye with all I have.”
• Loving someone doesn’t mean saying it out loud one time on a tour bus and then running for the hills. Loving someone means choosing them every day regardless of all the things that might stand in your way. Or, for some of us, the things we put there ourselves. That’s how I level these walls and stomp right over them.
• I’m learning lessons in love in real time these days: when you feel about someone the way I do about Tom, there isn’t much room for shame. To be loved is to be known—the worst of you, the best of you. Maybe that was what I was hiding from all along, and now I can’t understand why.

══════════ ⋆★⋆ ══════════

I received an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review and I’d like to thank Kate Golden, Quercus, and NetGalley for the opportunity.

“If Not for My Baby” is out August 5th!