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314 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 27, 2020

He’d always disliked his stature. He’d always felt too big. But in this moment, he was grateful for his size. He was big enough to hold her grief.
I’ve tried reading this since last year. I’d read it til about 20-25% then stop because I really couldn’t get into the book (there were so many sentences contained in bracket like this) and the book (I wished it was written differently and not full of random disconnected bracketed sentences like this) was so depressing (made me so maudlin, bringer of gloom), and so painfully boring (I should have tried harder to read it).
I didn’t like Alice (someone should really stop all her singing, why does she keep singing?) and I couldn’t understand Henry even though he’s a lot more introspective than most historical romance heroes. For some reason Henry made me think of something Alain de Botton once said: there’s no such thing as overthinking – just thinking badly. Witnessing his relentless merciless battle with himself seriously drained my energy.
Something about Henry made me feel so sorry for him that it was painful to read and not it a good way. Henry reminded me a bit of Maddy from Flowers from the Storm (my #1 historical romance obsession), but it really didn’t work for me. As usual though I still appreciated the author’s role reversal.
I finished it anyway because I’m a fan of Scarlett Peckham’s other works – absolutely adored The Rakess – but this is a miss.
This was the 3rd book in The Secrets of Charlotte Street Series. I gave the first book 4 stars and the second book 5 stars.
To run, to stay. (To kiss her again.) To kiss her again.