There's a moment early in Open Mind—maybe Chapter 2 or 3?—where the nickname "Dr. Kink" gets dropped, and I nearly spit my Pinot Noir all over my MacBook. Subtle? No. But did I keep listening? Absolutely.
I was working late on a logo redesign for a local coffee shop—the kind that takes itself way too seriously—and honestly, I needed something to pull me out of the beige color palette hell I was living in. This book... well, it definitely wasn't beige. It was more like a neon sign flickering in a rainstorm.
The Voice That Saved My Sanity
Let's just get this out of the way immediately: Kale Williams.
Oh my god. His voice is pure velvet. It's that specific kind of warm, British cadence that feels like a weighted blanket for your ears. I listen at 1.0x speed because why would I rush this? It's self-care. He does this thing where he drops his register just slightly for Ronan (the doctor), and it really works.
Usually, when a book has a lot of "educational" dialogue about lifestyle choices, it can sound robotic. But Kale managed to make even the clinical explanations sound... intimate? He differentiated Jamie and Ronan well enough that I didn't get lost, even when the dialogue tags went missing. If this book was just Kale reading a phone book, I'd probably still give it four stars. He's the reason I didn't DNF during the slow parts.
When Romance Reads Like a Manual
Here's where things got a little rocky for me.
The premise is wild—Ronan is a doctor specifically catering to the BDSM community because they need non-judgmental care. I love that concept. It's sweet. It's inclusive. But the execution felt a little... stiff?
I'm a romance girlie. I want the yearning. I want the chest-tightening angst. I want to cry into Frida's fur (she hates it, by the way). But Open Mind felt like it was trying so hard to explain the mechanics of the lifestyle that it sometimes forgot to let the characters just fall in love.
There were scenes where the chemistry was heating up—spice level is definitely there, don't get me wrong—and then suddenly it felt like I was reading a textbook. It pulled me out of the emotional headspace. I wanted more heart, less "Here is how Procedure A works." The relationship between Jamie and Ronan was sweet, but it felt clinical at times. I missed that gut-punch emotional connection I usually crave.
That aching, messy, soul-deep longing? I finally found it in Money Moon: A Romance, which had me ugly crying into my coffee at 2 a.m.The Pacing Wobbly-Bits
(Is "wobbly-bits" a technical term? It is now.)
The pacing was weirdly choppy. There were moments where I checked my app to make sure I hadn't accidentally skipped a chapter. We'd be in one scene, and then—bam—time jump, or a shift in focus that left a storyline dangling in the wind.
It's frustrating because the vibes were almost immaculate. You have the grumpy/sunshine dynamic (sort of), the workplace proximity, the healing-from-trauma trope... all the ingredients for a 5-star ugly cry. But the narrative jumps kept tripping me up. Like watching a movie with a few glorious scenes missing from the reel.
Who's This For (And Who Should Skip)
If you're into the kink aspect and want a narrator who sounds like a dream, this is worth a listen. Skip it if you need that deep, flowing emotional storytelling—this one's more choppy than cathartic. I didn't cry once (which, for me, is a shocker).
Signing Off With My Lukewarm Latte
Kale Williams elevates the material significantly. Seriously, the man is a treasure. My Abuela would have absolutely clutched her rosary at the content—sorry, Abuela—but even she would've admitted the British accent was charming.
It's a solid background listen for a rainy Tuesday, mostly because the audio production is clean and Kale is doing the heavy lifting. Just don't expect to have your heart ripped out.
