Close Contact

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at the premise initially—another alpha MMA fighter with a heart of gold? But *Close Contact* disarmed me within chapters. Foster’s strength lies in how she subverts expectations: Miles isn’t just a brooding brute; he’s a man who’s built his life around control, and Maxi isn’t a damsel in distress but a woman who weaponizes her charm to keep people at arm’s length. Their dynamic is electric precisely because they’re *both* running from something, and the audiobook format amplifies this. Cendese’s narration is a standout—his Miles is all restrained power, but when he voices Maxi’s snarky retorts, there’s a playful lilt that keeps her from feeling like a caricature. The sex scenes sizzle without veering into melodrama, thanks to his understated intensity. That said, the suspense subplot—while well-executed—sometimes feels like it’s pulling focus from the romance. Maxi’s backstory involves a threat that, when revealed, borders on soap-opera territory, and the resolution wraps up a tad too neatly. I also wished for more development of the secondary characters (Miles’ gym crew has *so* much potential). But these are quibbles. The real triumph here is how the audiobook *sounds*: the production uses subtle audio cues (a distant echo in flashbacks, the thud of gloves hitting a heavy bag) to immerse you in Miles’ world. At 8 hours and 34 minutes, it’s a binge-worthy listen—perfect for fans who want their romance with a side of grit and their suspense with a slow, simmering burn.