Can a romance really work when you spend half the book wanting to shake the heroine and the other half completely understanding why she can't resist him?
I was three hours into this audiobook, Diego curled on my lap while I worked on a logo redesign at 2 AM, when I realized I'd stopped designing entirely. Just... sitting there. Listening. Occasionally muttering "girl, what are you DOING" at my screen like Rachel could hear me through my earbuds.
The Saint Who Makes You Want to Sin (Yes, That's Really His Name)
Malcolm Kyle Preston Logan Saint. I know. I KNOW. But here's the thing—Katy Evans somehow makes this absolutely ridiculous name work? The man is walking, talking fantasy fuel: billionaire entrepreneur, mysterious past, those green eyes that Grace Grant's voice practically caresses every time Rachel describes them. And she describes them a lot. Like, a LOT a lot.
The setup is classic: ambitious journalist assigned to expose Chicago's most eligible bachelor, inevitably falls for him instead. Predictable? Absolutely. Did I care? Not even a little bit. The chemistry between Rachel and Saint is *chef's kiss*—that slow build of professional boundaries crumbling, the way he sees through her assignment before she even admits it to herself. My heart. MY HEART.
What got me was the vulnerability underneath all that billionaire swagger. Saint isn't just a walking checkbook with abs—there's genuine depth to why he keeps everyone at arm's length. And Rachel's internal conflict about betraying him for her career? That guilt spiral felt painfully real.
Grace Grant: Velvet Voice, Complicated Delivery
Okay, here's where it gets messy. Grace Grant's voice is genuinely gorgeous—warm and intimate in a way that pulls you right into Rachel's headspace. Her emotional delivery during the romantic scenes had me clutching my chest at 1 AM while Frida judged me from across the room. The humor lands beautifully too—Rachel's internal snark comes through perfectly.
But. BUT. The male voices? Rough. Saint deserves this commanding, magnetic presence, and what we get is... adequate. It's not terrible, but it's definitely the weakest link. And I need to talk about the "urgh" pronunciation because once you hear it, you cannot unhear it. Every time Rachel makes that frustrated sound (which is often, because internal monologue), it comes out as "urg" and it pulled me right out of the moment. Embarrassingly cringey is exactly the right description.
I listened at my usual 1.0x because I wanted to savor the good parts, but honestly? The pacing felt uneven in places. Some scenes dragged when I think they were supposed to simmer.
When Self-Deprecation Becomes a Personality Trait
This is where I have to be real with you. Rachel's internal monologue is... a lot. And not always in a good way. There's this constant stream of self-doubt and negative self-talk that started to wear on me around hour six. I get it—she's intimidated by this impossibly perfect man, she's conflicted about her assignment, she's got imposter syndrome for days. But sometimes I wanted her to just... believe in herself for five consecutive minutes?
Abuela would have been yelling at the screen. "Mija, you are WORTH something, stop this!" I could hear her voice so clearly during those moments. She had zero patience for women who couldn't see their own value. (Miss you, Abuela. You would have loved Saint though. Tall, mysterious, probably Catholic somewhere in that family tree.)
This Book Felt Like...
A glass of expensive champagne at a party you weren't sure you belonged at—bubbly, intoxicating, maybe a little too sweet, but you keep drinking anyway because the vibes are immaculate and the man across the room won't stop looking at you.
The sexual tension is delicious. The actual spicy scenes deliver. The emotional payoff when they finally stop fighting the inevitable? I ugly-cried. Not my proudest moment at 3 AM with cat hair on my pajamas, but there it is.
Who This Is For (And Who Should Maybe Just Read It)
If you love billionaire romance with genuine emotional stakes, this is your book. If Grace Grant's voice is already in your comfort rotation, you'll mostly enjoy her work here despite the male voice issues. If you need a rainy Sunday book that asks nothing of you except to feel things—yes, absolutely, queue it up.
Skip the audio if narrator consistency is non-negotiable for you, or if constant heroine self-deprecation makes you want to throw your phone. Several listeners mentioned preferring to read it, and I can see why. The story works—the audio delivery is just uneven enough to frustrate. Silverthorn gave me that same guilty pleasure feeling—fantasy instead of billionaires, but equally indulgent.
Closing the File on This One
Manwhore is cotton candy romance—sweet, fluffy, not particularly nutritious, but satisfying in the moment. Grace Grant elevates the emotional beats even when she stumbles on the technical execution. I'll probably continue the series because I need to know what happens with Saint (that ending!), but I might switch to reading the next one.
Three and a half stars, rounded up because that man made me feel things and I refuse to apologize for it.
