Second Nature

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes when I saw *another* werewolf romance. But *Second Nature* disarmed me within chapters—partly because Jae writes Griffin like an actual predator, not a brooding pretty boy with fur, and partly because Abby Craden’s performance is *that* good. Her Jorie sounds like a woman who’s spent years hiding behind her keyboard, voice tight with sarcasm until Griffin’s presence unravels her. And Griffin? Craden gives her a gravelly edge that makes every line feel like it’s been clawed out of her throat. It’s not just acting; it’s *embodiment*. The story’s strength lies in its contradictions. The romance burns slow, built on wary glances and loaded silences, but the paranormal elements hit like a gut punch—especially in a mid-book scene where Griffin’s transformation isn’t glamorous or sexy, but *violent*. (Fair warning: if you’re squeamish about body horror, skip ahead.) My only critique? The third act leans a little too hard on miscommunication tropes, and Jorie’s stubbornness occasionally feels forced. But the audio production is flawless—no jarring edits, no inconsistent volume—and the emotional payoff, particularly in the final confrontation, is worth the occasional frustration. This isn’t a book for listeners who want their romance neat and tidy. It’s for those who like their love stories with teeth.