Praise By Sara Cate

Rule #4: After a humiliating day with your ex's dad taco's and margaritas are always the answer.

Praise is the first book in The Salacious Players Club series by Sara Cate — and damn, what a start.

Let’s be real: tacos and margaritas are always the answer. By chapter four, I already knew Charlie was a total badass FMC, and I respect the hell out of her for it. She knows her worth, dumps her loser boyfriend, and ends up in one of the most awkward situations imaginable — trying to get her half of the rent back from her ex’s dad. After a seriously weird first encounter with Emerson, she handles it like a boss. A confused boss, sure, but hey, she walks out $5K richer, so who’s really winning?

Throughout most of the book, I couldn’t stand Charlie’s ex. The guy was nothing like his dad, Mr. Grant. But then again, they’re in their early 20s — who actually has their shit figured out at that age? Especially when it comes to open-minded stuff like kink clubs? I’ll cut him a little slack… but he still seriously needs to learn how to treat women better.

Chapter 24? Chef’s kiss. A 10/10 level of spice — I only wish doing tax documents was that thrilling in real life. 😏

 “I’m barely even reading correctly; I skip words and bounce around because I know he’s sure as fuck not paying attention to anything this IRS document hast to say, but I know he’s trying to test me.”

And then Chapter 28 (page 221) hit me. I felt that scene — the part where Charlie realizes that people see her differently than she sees herself. They say, “You’re pretty,” or “You’re worth it,” but sometimes it’s hard to believe it. Emerson’s determination to help her truly see her worth? That’s the good stuff.

 “I know I never say anything good about myself, but I can’t help it. It doesn’t matter how pretty I am or how other people see me. The voice in my head telling me I’m not enough is louder.”

Overall, I’m giving this one a solid 10/10 — for both spice and story. It keeps you hooked, keeps you hoping the FMC gets her man, and makes you wish places like SPC actually existed. (If they do, clearly I’m living in the wrong state.)

What do you think about a big age gap like Emerson and Charlie’s? At first, a 20-year difference felt kind of wild to me, but the way they fit—how they made each other feel—made me forget all about the number. Their chemistry just hits different.