At Liberty to Love

I’ll admit, I rolled my eyes at first. *Another* widow-on-a-train story? But *At Liberty to Love* disarmed me within chapters. McAdoo’s protagonist isn’t just sad—she’s *prickly*, the kind of woman who snaps at kindness because she’s forgotten how to accept it. When she meets the male lead (a rancher with his own ghosts), their conversations crackle with the unsaid. This isn’t insta-love; it’s two people circling each other like stray dogs, wary but desperate for warmth. Walton’s narration sells it—her delivery of the heroine’s sarcastic asides made me laugh out loud, while her hushed tone during the rawer moments (like when the protagonist admits she’s terrified of failing another child) gave me chills. That said, the middle act drags a touch. The train journey stretches longer than necessary, and a subplot about a nosy fellow passenger feels like filler. I also wished McAdoo had pushed further into the ethical messiness of “choosing” an orphan—it’s glossed over too quickly for a story that otherwise isn’t afraid of discomfort. But the last third redeems it, especially in audio. Walton’s pacing tightens as the stakes rise, and the final confrontation between the leads is electric, all the more powerful because you’ve spent hours hearing their voices tremble with doubt. If you’re tired of Christian fiction that ties everything up with a bow, this one leaves a few threads loose—and that’s why it lingers.