Runaway Bride and Prejudice

Okay, let’s talk about Van. He’s the kind of hero who makes *terrible* decisions with the confidence of a man who’s never once been told no—and Rock Engle’s narration sells every ounce of that delusional charm. His performance is all lazy grin and rough edges, like he’s recording from a lawn chair after a few beers, and it *works*. Meanwhile, Emily Ellet’s heroine is the perfect foil: her clipped, no-nonsense tone when she’s furious (which is often) had me cackling, especially in the early scenes where she’s basically a one-woman intervention. The real magic? Their back-and-forth in the car ride from hell—a masterclass in audiobook chemistry where the silence between lines feels as loaded as the dialogue. That said, the pacing stumbles a bit in the middle. The small-town drama (meddling moms, exes popping up) occasionally veers into soap-opera territory, and a subplot involving Van’s sister felt undercooked—like St. Clair knew it needed emotional weight but didn’t quite stick the landing. And while the hockey details are spot-on (finally, a sports romance that doesn’t treat the game like wallpaper), the audio production’s ambient sounds sometimes clash with the narration’s rhythm. A few scenes in crowded spaces left me rewinding to catch dialogue over fake chatter. But here’s the thing: I didn’t care. Because when Van—*idiot king of the rink*—whispers, *“I’m not smart, but I’m yours,”* with Engle’s voice rough as sandpaper? Or when the heroine finally snaps and Ellet delivers a tirade so scathing I wanted to slow-clap? That’s the good stuff. This audiobook isn’t polished to a high gloss; it’s got scuff marks and swear words and a hero who’s equal parts infuriating and impossible to quit. If you love rom-coms where the groveling is *earned* and the banter could draw blood, this is your jam. Just maybe don’t listen while driving—you’ll laugh too hard to brake.