Julie Garwood wrote a perfectly serviceable romantic suspense novel. Tanya Eby then narrated it in a way that made me question whether our heroine had been drinking.
Let me explain. I was grading a stack of sophomore essays on The Great Gatsby—the ones where they all discover, simultaneously and with great originality, that the green light is a symbol—when I decided I needed something lighter. Something with danger and romance and absolutely zero literary analysis required. Fast Track seemed like the ticket. Zero Days scratched that same itch last month—high stakes, globe-trotting tension, no symbolism required. Family secrets, Australian adventure, hotel magnate love interest. My wife Denise calls these my "palate cleansers." She's not wrong.
The Cordelia Problem
Here's the thing about audiobook narration: a narrator doesn't just read words, they interpret character. They make choices about pacing, about inflection, about how a person sounds when they're scared or flirting or lying. And somewhere in those choices, Tanya Eby decided that Cordelia Kane—our protagonist, our window into this story—should sound like she's perpetually confused. Or possibly tipsy. Or both.
I kept waiting for a scene where another character would say "Cordelia, are you feeling alright?" because that's how she sounded. Slow. Slightly bewildered. Which is frustrating because on the page, Cordelia is supposed to be sharp. She's navigating family drama, dodging attempts on her life, and falling for her best friend's brother. That requires presence of mind. The narration kept undercutting her.
Now, Eby is generally competent—I've heard her do solid work elsewhere. But when the Australian characters showed up? The accent work was rough. Not offensive, just... unconvincing. Like watching a high school production where the drama teacher said "just try your best with the British accent" and everyone nodded nervously.
What Garwood Does Well (When You Can Hear It)
Underneath the narration issues, there's a decent story here. Garwood has sold nearly forty million books for a reason. She understands pacing. She knows how to drip-feed revelations about Cordelia's mysterious mother. The romance between Cordelia and Aiden has that classic slow-burn tension—he's oblivious to her years-long crush, she's trying to play it cool while also nearly getting murdered, and eventually they figure it out.
The family drama in Sydney is genuinely twisty. Wealthy, high-powered relatives with secrets to protect make for reliable antagonists. That formula worked better in Zero Days, where the family secrets felt more earned and less soap-opera adjacent. There's violence, there's danger, and Garwood keeps the pages (or in this case, the hours) moving. At 8 hours and 11 minutes, it's not asking for a massive time commitment.
But here's what kept nagging at me: I couldn't fully invest in Cordelia because I kept hearing her as someone who needed a nap. The narrator's interpretation created a disconnect between what the story was telling me about this character and what my ears were receiving.
Who Should Press Play (And Who Should Just Read It)
If you're a die-hard Garwood fan who can tune out narration quirks, you'll probably enjoy this. The plot delivers what it promises. If you're specifically looking for Australian settings in your romance, just know the accents won't transport you. Skip this version if you need to connect with your protagonist's voice—the interpretation will keep getting in your way.
Honestly? This might be a case where the print version serves the story better. I don't say that often—I'm a convert to audiobooks, obviously—but sometimes the narrator-book match just doesn't click. This is one of those times. It's fine for housework or a commute, something where you can give it 70% of your attention. I wouldn't recommend it for a dedicated listening session where you're really trying to sink into the characters.
Class Dismissed
Not worth pausing the faculty meeting for this time. And that's a shame, because the bones of the story are solid. Garwood delivers her signature blend of romance and suspense. Cordelia's journey to uncover her mother's past has genuine emotional stakes. Aiden is the kind of protective-but-not-overbearing love interest that the genre does well.
But the narration kept pulling me out. Every time I started to care about Cordelia, her voice would make me wonder if she'd taken cold medicine. Every time an Australian character spoke, I'd wince slightly.
I finished it. I didn't hate it. But I kept thinking about what could have been with a different vocal interpretation. The author chose those words—I just wish the narrator had found a different way to say them.
My students would probably love the drama. I'm just going to quietly recommend they read it instead.
