Hunting Season

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at the ‘grumpy werewolf bodyguard’ premise—until about five minutes in, when Owen and Stasia’s first argument had me cackling in my car. Rudolph’s dialogue is *that* good: snappy, specific, and laced with the kind of subtext that makes you lean in. Owen isn’t just ‘protective’; he’s a man who’s spent a lifetime treating emotions like a liability, and Stasia isn’t just ‘feisty’—she’s a woman who’s learned the hard way that relying on others gets you burned. Their dynamic feels earned, not manufactured, and Pinkins’ narration amplifies it. His Owen growls like he’s one wrong word from shifting, while Stasia’s sarcasm cuts through his posturing like a blade. The production is clean, with no distracting edits, though I’d have loved a touch more atmospheric sound design in the action sequences to heighten the suspense. Where the book stumbles slightly is in its worldbuilding. The werewolf politics are intriguing but underdeveloped—we get hints of a larger pack hierarchy and rival factions, but they’re relegated to background noise when they could’ve added layers to the stakes. And while the romantic tension is electric, the resolution feels a beat too rushed, like Rudolph hit the gas on the payoff after a masterclass in slow-burning friction. Still, the audiobook’s strengths far outweigh its missteps. Pinkins’ performance turns what could’ve been a by-the-numbers paranormal rom-com into something grittier, funnier, and far more addictive. If you love enemies-to-lovers with actual teeth (literally), a heroine who fights back, and narration that makes your commute fly by, this is your next listen—just don’t blame me if you start side-eyeing your own security detail afterward.