Present day Paris: Maggie Parker receives a call. The new owners of her family’s old Notting Hill home are digging up the basement. They’ve no idea what might lie beneath . . .
London, twenty-one years earlier: teenaged Maggie, babysitting her little brother, waits in vain for her mother to come home after a night out. Seeking clues to her mother’s mysterious disappearance, she's drawn away from the neighbourhood’s grand terraces and into its hustling backstreets - and the arms of someone else living on their wits.
Over two decades later, the clock is ticking on a secret set to shatter Maggie’s grown-up life. But the draw of the past is irresistible . . .
Book Review
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Reading The Midnight Hour feels like settling into one of those atmospheric, character-rich mysteries where the air itself seems thick with secrets. Eve Chase has a real knack for weaving together past and present, and she does it again here with that trademark mix of elegance, melancholy, and just the right dose of suspense.
What really stands out is the mood. The whole book has this misty, almost dreamlike quality—old houses with creaking histories, fractured families who can’t quite untangle themselves from what happened years ago, and characters who seem to carry their pasts like another layer of clothing. Chase writes in a way that makes you want to slow down and take in the details: the scent of the sea, the old photographs tucked away in drawers, the silences between people who once knew each other too well.
As usual with her work, the story unfolds in two timelines, and both are genuinely engaging rather than one feeling like a detour. The present-day storyline gives you that cozy, investigative curiosity, while the past gradually reveals the emotional undercurrents that make everything click into place. Chase doesn’t rely on shocking twists; it’s more like a steady tightening of threads until the final picture comes into focus. It’s satisfying in a quieter, more resonant way.
The characters themselves are wonderfully human—flawed, tender, guilty, hopeful. Chase excels at writing relationships that feel complicated without becoming melodramatic, especially the ways families can both wound and shelter each other. You end up caring about these people even when you’re not totally sure you trust them.
Overall, The Midnight Hour is the kind of mystery you read not just to find out what happened, but to enjoy the journey: the emotion, the setting, the sense of time folding in on itself. If you like stories that are as much about people as they are about plot—something atmospheric, layered, and quietly gripping—it’s a lovely one to sink into.
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