Touch

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at the ‘therapist falls for her client’ premise—until *Touch* made me a believer. Kris Bryant doesn’t just rely on the forbidden thrill; she digs into the *why* of Hayley’s attraction, tying it to Hayley’s own unresolved loneliness and the way Elizabeth’s defiance mirrors the parts of herself Hayley keeps locked away. The romance unfolds in stolen moments—a hand brushing a knee during a session, a loaded pause after a confession—that feel *earned*, not contrived. That said, the middle act drags slightly with repetitive internal monologues about ethics (yes, Hayley, we *get* it’s wrong), and I wished Bryant had leaned harder into Elizabeth’s backstory earlier to balance the emotional weight. Brittni Pope’s performance is *exceptional* in its subtlety. She doesn’t overplay the chemistry; instead, she lets it simmer in the way Hayley’s voice tightens when Elizabeth pushes back, or how Elizabeth’s usual clipped tone softens when she’s caught off-guard. The production quality is flawless—no distracting edits or volume shifts—but I did notice a few instances where Pope’s pacing in Hayley’s narration felt *too* measured, almost clinical, during high-emotion scenes. It’s a minor quibble, though, in an otherwise immersive listen. What sticks with me is how the audiobook *sounds* like a confession: intimate, messy, and impossible to pause. If you love romances where the real conflict isn’t external but the quiet war between desire and self-preservation, this is your next obsession. **One last note:** The hockey setting is more atmosphere than plot driver, so if you’re here for rink-side drama, temper expectations. This is a love story about the spaces between words, not pucks.