What happens when the version of yourself you've only ever been brave enough to type out loud collides with your actual, messy, insecure real life?
That's the question at the center of Bigshot Boss, and honestly, it's the reason I kept listening even when the audiobook was actively testing my patience. I was deep into a rebrand project at 2 AM - the kind of deadline where you're surviving on cold coffee and sheer spite - and I needed something light enough to keep me company without pulling focus from kerning. This book delivered on that front. Mostly.
The Email Problem (and Why I Almost Didn't Make It)
Let me get this out of the way: there are SO many emails in this book. Like, an ungodly number. The entire first act is basically email after email between the heroine and her anonymous online match, and while some of them are cute and flirty and genuinely made me smile at my screen, by hour two I was begging for an actual scene with humans in a room together. I get what Cat Carmine was going for - building that slow-burn digital intimacy where you're braver behind a keyboard than you'd ever be face-to-face. And that concept? Chef's kiss. The execution just needed editing. Someone on Audible said the book would be two hours shorter without the emails, and... yeah. They're not wrong. At nearly 8 hours, you feel every single inbox notification.
But here's what surprised me: when the story finally lets these two breathe the same air, it actually works. The reveal scene - her walking across that restaurant, seeing her CEO sitting there, the man she's been sending her filthiest fantasies to - I literally stopped adjusting my color palette and just sat there. That moment of pure, gut-dropping mortification mixed with desire? This book felt like that specific panic dream where you realize you've been texting the wrong person, except the wrong person is devastatingly hot and also signs your paychecks. That slow-burn dread of your private self colliding with your professional one shows up in Fallen Crest Public too, though the collision there is considerably louder and considerably less office-appropriate.
Rock Engle, We Need to Talk
Okay. So. The narration situation.
Kendall Taylor is fine as the heroine. Not remarkable, but she carries the insecurity and the humor well enough. The real issue is Rock Engle, and I genuinely went back and forth on how I felt about him. His regular speaking voice? Actually kind of great. There's a confidence to his delivery that sells the arrogant CEO thing without making you hate the guy. When he's doing the witty banter, the teasing, the moments where the hero is being unexpectedly tender - it works. I believed the chemistry.
But the sex scenes. Oh, the sex scenes.
Rock Engle makes these... sounds. These breathy, performative sounds during intimate moments that yanked me completely out of the story every single time. It's like he was narrating a scene and then suddenly decided to be in the scene, and not in a good way. It felt less like listening to a romance audiobook and more like accidentally overhearing something through a hotel wall. I actually paused during one scene, looked at Frida (who was judging me from the bookshelf, as always), and said out loud, "This is not it." She agreed.
The thing is - and this is what makes it complicated - some people apparently love his delivery. So maybe it's a matter of taste? But for me, when a narrator pulls me out of the emotional moment with sounds that feel more cartoonish than sensual, that's a problem. I need my romance narrators to understand that less is more during those scenes. Give me the tension in the voice, the slight catch, the restraint. Don't give me a sound effects reel.
Where It Got Me Anyway
Despite my complaints (and I have them), this book has genuine heart underneath all the emails and questionable audio choices. The hero being more wholesome than you'd expect from the "arrogant CEO" trope - that got me. There's a softness to him once the walls come down that felt earned, not manufactured. And the heroine's journey from "my ex literally fell asleep during sex" to owning her confidence? Abuela would've been fanning herself and pretending to disapprove while secretly loving every minute.
I didn't ugly-cry. This isn't that kind of book. But I did get that warm, fizzy feeling in the last hour - the one where you're smiling at your screen like a weirdo because two fictional people finally got their act together. It left me with a good feeling. Not a devastating one, not a life-changing one, but a good one. Like a glass of wine that's perfectly fine but not the bottle you'd bring to a dinner party.
Who Gets the Wine, Who Gets the Warning
If you love the anonymous-online-connection-to-IRL-reveal trope, this is your book. If you can tolerate (or even enjoy) a more... enthusiastic male narrator during spicy scenes, you might love it more than I did. But if narrator performance during intimate moments is a dealbreaker for you - and if you have low patience for epistolary-heavy pacing - maybe read this one instead of listening. The story deserves better audio than it got.
This is a rainy Sunday book. Just maybe keep the volume low during certain chapters.
