Does a Scottish Highlander have to sound like he smokes three packs a day to be considered an alpha male?
I'm asking because I spent the last twelve hours redesigning a menu for a taco truck while listening to The Secret, and I have... feelings. Mostly confused ones. I've got Frida (my calico) sleeping on my graphics tablet, and every time the hero, Iain Maitland, opened his mouth, her ears twitched. And honestly? Same, girl. Same.
THE "COOKIE MONSTER" IN THE ROOM
Let's rip the band-aid off. Susan Duerden has a voice like expensive silk when she's narrating the descriptive parts. She does that floaty, posh British thing that usually makes me want to curl up with a cup of tea. But—and this is a massive, flashing neon "BUT"—her choice for the Scottish male voices is baffling.
I read the reviews before diving in. People said the men sounded "gravelly" or "creepy." I thought, Elena, you grew up on telenovelas where the men sound like they're gargling marbles, you can handle this. I was wrong. Iain doesn't just sound rugged; he sounds like he's eighty years old and angry at a cloud. It's almost a caricature of masculinity—a deep, guttural growl that borders on the Cookie Monster. There were moments during the romantic tension where I should've been swooning, but instead, I was mentally offering the Laird a lozenge. If you're sensitive to "sing-song" narration where sentences tilt up at the end like questions? Sample this before committing.
SISTERHOOD OVER STUDHOOD
Here's the thing, though—and why I didn't DNF this book at hour three. Julie Garwood writes female friendship better than almost anyone in the historical romance game. The connection between Judith and Frances Catherine isn't just a plot device; it's the heartbeat of the book.
The opening sequence where they meet as young girls at the border festival? My heart. It set a foundation that made every risk Judith took later feel earned. I'm a sucker for "ride or die" female loyalty, and seeing Judith trek from her bleak English home to the Highlands just to be there for her friend's childbirth? That hits harder than the romance for me. That same fierce loyalty between women shows up in Hello, Summer, where the friendship feels just as central as any romantic subplot.
Judith is also hilariously unimpressed by the Scottish posturing. There's a scene where she basically out-stubborns the "barbarian" Iain that had me cackling into my monitor. Duerden actually shines here—she captures Judith's defiance perfectly. When the characters are bantering and the growling is kept to a minimum, the chemistry does work. You just have to squint with your ears a little bit. The dramatized production of A Court of Thorns and Roses takes a completely different approach with multiple voice actors, which might be worth trying if single-narrator choices frustrate you.
WHO'S RIDING INTO THE HIGHLANDS (AND WHO SHOULD STAY HOME)
Listen if: You're a Garwood purist who can forgive vocal quirks for classic Highland drama, or you prioritize fierce female friendship over swoon-worthy hero voices. The story holds up—it's high-stakes with a secret (obviously) that threatens to ruin everything.
Skip if: Male character voices make or break your romance audiobooks. The Cookie Monster growl creates a real barrier to the romantic tension.
ABUELA WOULD HAVE CROSSED HERSELF
I found myself loving this story despite the narration, not because of it. That's a weird place to land, but here we are.
Abuela would have loved the drama of the secret, but she would've crossed herself at those male voices. "Ay Dios mío, why does he sound like a demon?" she'd say. And for once, I wouldn't argue.
