Indulge Me

About This Audiobook

*Indulge Me* isn’t just another chef romance—it’s a slow-burn power struggle wrapped in culinary precision. Beth Bolden crafts a dynamic where control isn’t just a personality quirk but the very currency of attraction between Bastian, the exacting Michelin-starred chef, and Kian, his long-suffering (but never passive) assistant. The tension isn’t just sexual; it’s a battle of wills played out in kitchen timers and clipped emails, where every "yes, Chef" hides layers of unspoken frustration. This isn’t a romance where the leads tumble into bed by Chapter 3—it’s a negotiation, and the push-pull will either thrill you or drive you mad in the best way.

Wyatt Baker’s narration is the secret sauce here. His Bastian is all gravel and command, the kind of voice that could make a grocery list sound like a threat, while his Kian smolders with dry, exhausted wit. Baker’s pacing mirrors the story’s rhythm: clipped and efficient during Bastian’s tirades, then melting into something warmer during the rare vulnerable moments. The audiobook’s strength lies in how it *sounds* like a high-end kitchen—chaotic, precise, and charged with the kind of tension that makes you lean in closer."

"review": "I’ll admit, I side-eyed the ‘grumpy chef/suffering assistant’ premise at first—how many times can we revisit this trope? But *Indulge Me* won me over by making the power imbalance *matter*. Bastian isn’t just gruff for the aesthetic; his control issues are a defense mechanism, and Kian’s exhaustion isn’t played for laughs. Their dynamic feels earned, especially in scenes where Kian finally pushes back (the ‘I quit’ showdown in Chapter 12 is *chef’s kiss*). Bolden’s dialogue crackles, though I’ll dock half a star for the occasional over-reliance on internal monologues that spell out emotions the performances already sell.

Wyatt Baker’s narration is a masterclass in contrast. His Bastian is a revelation—imagine Gordon Ramsay if he narrated ASMR, all clipped consonants and simmering rage. But his Kian is the standout: weary but never whiny, with a sarcasm that cuts through Bastian’s bullshit like a global knife. The production is clean, though the abrupt shifts between scenes sometimes left me scrambling to reorient (a ‘three hours later’ would’ve helped in Act 2). Still, the audiobook’s greatest trick is making you *feel* the kitchen’s heat—literally. I caught myself gripping my phone tighter during service scenes, as if I, too, might get dressed down for misplacing the truffle oil.

**Who’s it for?** Fans of *The Hating Game*’s banter but with higher stakes (and better food descriptions), or anyone who’s ever fantasized about their terrible boss secretly pining for them. Skip if you prefer sweet, low-conflict romances—this one’s got *teeth*."

"tags": [
"enemies-to-lovers with professional stakes