Is there a line between watching and wanting - and does it even matter when the tension is this thick?
I was three hours into a logo rebrand for a local mezcal bar, Diego asleep on my lap, Frida perched on my monitor like a gargoyle judging my color palette choices, when Patrick discovered Annie watching that couple at La Petite Mort Club. And look - I knew exactly what kind of book this was going in. Best friend's little sister. Sex club setting. Four books bundled together. I was here for the ride. But the question I kept coming back to, hour after hour, was whether this book wanted to be a spicy rom-com or an actual love story. It tries to be both, and it lands... somewhere in the messy middle.
The Part Where I Wanted to Root for Them (and Sometimes Did)
Patrick and Annie have a setup that should've been chef's kiss - the forbidden element, the voyeurism kink giving Annie this layer of sexual curiosity that felt refreshing at first, and Patrick's whole "I literally cannot touch my best friend's sister" internal war. The early scenes at the club where he keeps catching her watching? That tension crackles. You can feel Patrick's willpower dissolving in real time, and there's something genuinely fun about a hero who's trying SO hard to be honorable while his brain is short-circuiting.
But here's where it gets frustrating. Because the story is split across four books crammed into one box set, the conflict starts recycling. Patrick pulls away. Annie feels rejected. They almost give in. Rinse. Repeat. By book three, I was muttering "just TALK to each other" at my screen while nudging a vector path with my pen tool. The whining complaint from other listeners? I get it. There's a difference between slow-burn tension and two people running the same emotional loop for seven hours. I wanted growth between the loops, not just steamier scenes.
And the scenes ARE steamy. Ellis O. Day knows how to write heat - the club setting gives her room to play with exhibitionism and discovery in ways that feel specific to these characters, not just generic spice. Annie's curiosity never reads as passive; she's actively drawn to watching, and the book doesn't shame her for it, which I appreciated. When she and Patrick finally stop dancing around each other, there's genuine payoff.
The Narrator Situation (Oh, Honey)
Okay. Two narrators - Jay Alder and Rachel Leblang - and the dual POV setup should work beautifully for a romance like this. And in the steamy moments? Rachel Leblang's comedic timing actually lands. There's a scene where Annie's internal monologue during one of the club encounters is half-horrified, half-fascinated, and Leblang nails the breathless awkwardness of it.
But. BUT. When she voices male characters, something happens. This... accent appears. Not a specific accent - not Southern, not British, not anything identifiable. Just this vaguely "other" voice that pulled me out of the scene every single time. And Jay Alder doing the reverse - voicing women with this high-pitched affectation, and apparently giving US Marine veterans a posh English accent? I didn't catch the English thing as strongly, but the female voice attempts were rough. It's like they each retreated to vocal shortcuts instead of actually inhabiting opposite-gender characters.
At 1.0x speed, you feel every awkward voice shift. There's no hiding at normal pace. I wouldn't say the narration ruined it, but it kept me at arm's length during moments that should've pulled me closer.
Who Gets to Watch (and Who Should Walk Away)
If you love the best-friend's-sibling trope, if sex-club settings are your jam, and if you can handle some repetitive conflict in exchange for genuine heat - this is a solid weekend listen. The HEA lands, and the spice level is unapologetic.
But if you're like me and you need emotional progression between the steamy bits - if you want to feel your chest crack open - this one stays surface-level. I didn't cry. Not once. And for me, that says something. (My spreadsheet stays at 47, friends.)
Abuela would've blushed so hard at this one she'd have needed a cold compress. And then she would've kept listening. I know her.
The Bookmark I'm Leaving Here
Fun? Yes. Forgettable? Kind of. It's the audiobook equivalent of a spicy telenovela episode you enjoy in the moment but can't quite recall the details of a week later. The voyeurism premise is genuinely interesting - I just wish the emotional core had matched the creativity of the setup. My heart stayed intact. And honestly? I wanted it wrecked. It Starts with Us wrecked me - that one earned a full sob and a line in the spreadsheet.
