Heartless

by Kate William

Like Balogh, Thorne excels at that delicious tension between two people who've built walls around themselves—but here the antagonism is immediate and crackling rather than melancholic. Both protagonists carry genuine wounds that make their eventual vulnerability feel earned rather than convenient, and Thorne's dialogue has that same witty sparring quality that makes you believe these two people are worth fighting for.

by Diane Setterfield

This is my gentle surprise for you—it's gothic and atmospheric where *Heartless* is ballroom-bright, but Setterfield shares Balogh's gift for making you feel the weight of family secrets and the way the past refuses to stay buried. The mystery unfolds through layers of unreliable narration and hidden truths, much like how Luke and Anna must gradually reveal themselves to each other. It's a different flavor entirely, but the emotional architecture is surprisingly similar.

by Diana Gabaldon

Gabaldon writes historical romance with the same conviction that Balogh brings to Regency settings—the period details feel lived-in rather than decorative. What makes this particularly satisfying after *Heartless* is how both protagonists arrive at their relationship as fully formed adults with complicated pasts, and the emotional stakes keep escalating beyond just 'will they fall in love?' The scope is grander, but that core of two damaged people learning to trust each other remains.

by Michael Coren

Here's where I'm really reaching outside the box—this is contemporary fantasy rather than historical romance, but Schwab does something remarkable with the idea of being forgotten and unseen, which echoes Anna's experience of being haunted and Luke's self-imposed exile. The love story here spans centuries and defies conventional structure, yet it carries that same ache of two people trying to matter to each other against impossible odds. It's a completely different beast, but the emotional resonance might surprise you.

by Richard Wiley

Published in 2002, this gives you a different era while maintaining that psychological complexity Balogh excels at. Kling writes about a woman rebuilding her life after trauma, and the way she weaves together past and present mirrors how Luke and Anna must confront what's been done to them. It's more introspective and less ballroom-bound than *Heartless*, but the slow excavation of trust and the way both characters must actively choose each other feels like a natural next step.