A Review for Garden of the Midnights by Hannah Linder

My Rating: 4.5 of 5 stars

About Garden of the Midnights

Danger Lurks at Rosenleigh Manor

Enjoy another Gothic Style Regency from Hannah Linder.

The accidents are not a matter of chance. They are deliberate. As English gentleman William Kensley becomes aware of the danger at Rosenleigh, he pleads for truth from the only man he can trust—until that man is murdered.

As the secrets unfold into scandal, William’s world is tipped into destitution—leaving him penniless and alone. His only comfort is in the constant love of Isabella Gresham, but even that has been threatened. When a hidden foe arises from their acquaintances and imperils Isabella’s life, will William be the only one willing to rescue her? And even if he saves Isabella from her captors, will he still have to forsake her heart?

My Thoughts

This is a book that echoed in my mind long after I finished the last page.

With many of the books that I read, they begin to fade after I mark them as “read”, but this one just kept lingering. Powerful seems too mild a word to describe it.

William and Isabella were characters who came to life and lived and breathed in my mind. After reading just a couple chapters, I was so worried for William that I couldn’t focus on any of my work.

Their meeting was absolutely delightful. All the mysteries of their past mixed with the danger of the present kept me on the edge of my seat. Every time that I felt I was startling unravel the answers to the questions, another truth would bomb, sending me reeling right along with William.

And I have to mention that Hannah has such a way of writing. She used so many unique, but perfect words that the setting and the story took on a life of its own. The climax especially was a scene I’ll never forget.

There was so much that I loved about this book, but I do need to mention two things that detracted from the story. One, there was a side character who used some British profanities (which, since I’m American, I didn’t even realize it was a profanity until I looked it up later). And two, there was a moment at the end when the main character decided to “forgive God.” The scene came so close to giving the book a sweeping conclusion, but that gave it a “not quite” feel. God doesn’t need to be forgiven. I believe the intention behind the scene was of the main character releasing his bitterness toward God, which was a good theme. It just had odd wording.

That said, this is a story that will probably rank toward the top of my favorite books I’ve read this year.

Disclaimer: I received a free copy of this book, but was not required to leave a positive review. My thoughts and opinions are entirely my own.

Grab a copy of Garden of the Midnights!

About the Author

Hannah Linder resides in the beautiful mountains of central West Virginia. Represented by Books & Such, she writes Regency romantic suspense novels. She is a double 2021 Selah Award winner, a 2022 Selah Award finalist, and a member of American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). Hannah is a Graphic Design Associates Degree graduate who specializes in professional book cover design. She designs for both traditional publishing houses and individual authors, including New York Times, USA Today, and International bestsellers. She is also a local photographer and a self-portrait photographer. When Hannah is not writing, she enjoys playing her instruments—piano, guitar, and ukulele—songwriting, painting still life, walking in the rain, and sitting on the front porch of her 1800s farmhouse. To follow her journey, visit hannahlinderbooks.com.

More From Hannah

Sometimes, the things we say we’ll never do are exactly the things we find ourselves doing.

Back when I was still wearing two braids and walking around barefoot everywhere, I told myself I would never make a speech. Never. But by the time high school graduation came along, despite a thousand firm declarations that I wouldn’t, my mother shook her head. “I think you should do it,” she said—and because mothers are usually right, I did.

Granted, I read the speech off a folded sheet of copy paper because I was too nervous to face the crowd. And my knees were jelly. And I stood off-centered on the stage instead of behind the pulpit like anyone else.

But I did it.

For the rest of my life, I’ll look back and remember what it felt like. Standing on the stage, reading my heart, hearing the sniffles and glancing up to see tears glistening in the eyes of endless people I love.

That was special. Mother was right.

Want to know another thing I said I would never do? Re-write a novel. I’ve heard the stories all my life. The author second guesses their own ability and burns their manuscript. Then, years later, they rewrite the story that echoes through the ages as a classic. Or the novelist loses their entire document to a computer crash, so with a blank page and a blinking cursor, they start anew.

I never thought that was something I could do.

I never wanted to.

If I ever lost a novel or was prompted to start over, I would abandon ship and try for a different vessel. Anyway, that’s what I told myself.

Garden of the Midnights was the story I wrote many years ago when I was younger, when I knew less about manors and England and history. I made mistakes. I broke writing rules. I did too little research and too much overwriting…but it had my soul. Somehow, it was alive. The characters breathed. The tears in their pillow, the aches in their throat, became a part of who I was and what I felt.

This was the one. The story I loved most.

But the edits and the mistakes and the problems overwhelmed me. Like the fearful girl in braids who refused to make a speech, I wanted to throw in the towel and say with even more defiance, “I will never re-write a novel. Never.”

But Mother knew what was needed. She knew the story was too much a part of me to tuck away in some drawer, forgotten and dusty, unread by anyone. So she nodded her head and said, “I think you should do it.”

I didn’t want to.

I was afraid because it wasn’t easy.

But because mothers are usually right, I did. Now, Garden of the Midnights is ready. My heart is still tangled in all the words, all the twists, all the secrets—but this time more, because the book has yet another part of me. The part that was fearful. The part that was too close to quitting. The part that finished anyway.

For the rest of my life, I’ll look back and be thankful. When someone writes me a note that they enjoyed the book, or gets a whimsical tone to their voice when they talk about a scene, or looks up from the pages with tears shimmering in their eyes.

That will be special. Mother was right.

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