If you're listening to this in the school pickup line—which I definitely did—check your Bluetooth connection. Then check it again. Then maybe turn the volume down just in case. Because Boss is not the kind of book you want blasting through the minivan speakers when Mrs. Henderson knocks on your window to ask about the bake sale.
Let's just say it starts with a bang (pun intended) and doesn't really let up.
I picked this up because, honestly, sometimes I just need a billionaire romance where the biggest problem is "oh no, he's too rich and handsome." My life is currently ruled by a two-year-old tyrant named Sophie (ironic, right?) who thinks throwing oatmeal is a love language. I needed a different kind of power dynamic. One that didn't involve cleaning up sticky floors.
When the Accent Almost Ruined the Mood
Here's the thing about audiobooks: the narrator can make or break the fantasy. C.J. Bloom narrates this one, and I have... feelings.
For the main character, Sophie, she's great. She captures that frantic, "I'm 20-something and have no idea what I'm doing" energy perfectly. She nails the emotional spirals and the snark. But then we get to Neil.
Neil is supposed to be this suave, dominant, British billionaire. But the accent C.J. Bloom does? It's—look, it's a choice. At first, I actually laughed. It felt a little caricature-ish? Like a villain in a kids' movie rather than a sexy publishing magnate.
(I may have texted my sister: "Why does this hot guy sound like he's about to steal 101 Dalmatians?")
But—and this is a big but—you get used to it. Or at least, I did. Once the story hooked me, I stopped noticing the weird vowels and just focused on the tension. And frankly, during the spicier scenes, Bloom commits. She does not hold back. The intensity is there, even if the accent wobbles.
The "Guilty Pleasure" Factor
Is the plot groundbreaking? No. It's the classic "girl meets guy, has one night stand, realizes he's her new boss" trope. We've seen it a million times.
But Abigail Barnette (who I found out is actually Jenny Trout, which explains the sharp humor) writes it with this raw, messy edge that I really appreciated. Sophie isn't perfect. She makes dumb decisions. She's a little self-absorbed. But she felt real to me in a way that some romance heroines don't. She's figuring out her career while navigating a relationship that is... let's just say "complicated" in the bedroom. That same messy, real-person energy is what I loved about It Starts with Us—flawed people making questionable choices but somehow you're rooting for them anyway.
And yes, it's steamy. Like, very steamy. It explores the D/s dynamic, but it felt more about trust and negotiation than just shock value. (Though again, check that Bluetooth connection. I'm serious.)
Who's This For (And Who Should Run)
If you love messy heroines, explicit D/s dynamics, and don't mind a wobbly British accent, queue this up immediately. If bad accents are a dealbreaker or you need your romance heroines to make smart choices? Maybe skip this one.
The Garage-Sit Verdict
I listened to this over the course of a week, mostly while folding laundry and during the sacred 45-minute garage sit. It's long—over 12 hours—so I bumped it to 1.25x speed. At normal speed, the narration felt a little draggy, but at 1.25x, it had the snappy pacing of a good TV drama.
If you're looking for high literature, keep walking. But if you want a messy, sexy, escapist binge that makes folding endless piles of tiny t-shirts bearable? This is it. Just maybe skip the parts where Neil talks if you're sensitive to bad accents. Or pretend he's really eccentric. That works too.
