Demons and Doves

I’ll admit, I side-eyed the ‘Roaring Twenties meets dark romance’ premise at first—how many times can we rehash the ‘tortured heroine and her dangerous man’ trope? But *Demons and Doves* gutted me in the best way. Florence isn’t a wilting violet; she’s a woman who’s been flayed alive by her past and still walks into a room like she owns it. The way Evans writes her internal monologue—sharp, self-aware, yet achingly vulnerable—makes her feel like a real person, not a fantasy cutout. And the romance? It’s not just sex (though, *whew*, the scenes are scorching); it’s a power struggle where trust is the real currency, and both characters are bankrupt. The narration is where this audiobook *sings*. Lexi Evans delivers Florence’s lines like she’s holding back tears even during the dirtiest jokes, while Logan Anare’s performance as the morally gray love interest is all velvet menace. His voice drops into a register that’s pure sin when he’s angry, and I may or may not have replayed certain… *persuasive* moments. My only gripe? The pacing stumbles in the middle—there’s a lull where the plot circles itself, and the flashbacks, while atmospheric, occasionally disrupt the momentum. And while the ending lands with emotional weight, it leans *just* a touch too hard on ambiguity for my taste. But those are quibbles. This is an audiobook that’ll leave you breathless, bruised, and begging for more. Just maybe not in mixed company.