Peter McGiffen
Peter McGiffen
Peter McGiffen is a British audiobook narrator based in England, known for his rich, clear, deep voice and his thoughtful, immersive delivery. Since beginning professional voiceover work in 2022, he has narrated more than 30 audiobooks and completed several hundred voiceover projects across video games, commercials, corporate e-learning, documentaries, and audio drama.
Before entering full-time voice work, Peter spent over twenty years telling stories in the classroom as an English teacher, also teaching Media and Film Studies. This long experience of working with language, pacing, and narrative structure informs his audiobook performances today. His background in education and editing allows him to approach each project with both creative sensitivity and technical precision.
Peter is a member of Equity, Spotlight, and the Audiobook Creators Alliance, and records from a professional home studio using a Sennheiser MK4 microphone, Focusrite Scarlett 2i2 interface, and Adobe Audition with iZotope RX for mastering — delivering audio that meets industry standards.
His audiobook catalogue spans genres including supernatural mystery, thrillers, alternate history, fantasy, literary fiction, poetry, and reflective bedtime stories. Within the Before Your Dream series, Peter has narrated titles such as:
- Letters from the Old Postmaster
- Ink in the Shape of Silence
- Paper Boats on the River of Time
- The Garden of Starlight
- The Train to Lavender Station
- The Monastery by the Sea
- The Moss Library
- The Room Without Corners
- The Passport of Forgotten Places
- The Observatory That Watched Back
- Echoes Before Dreams: Anthology
Listeners consistently praise his clear enunciation, emotional range, and ability to bring atmosphere and character to life — whether in dark thrillers, ghost stories, poetry, or meditative fiction.
Peter approaches each book with preparation, professionalism, and a genuine enthusiasm for storytelling. His voice carries authority without heaviness, warmth without sentimentality, and a depth well-suited to reflective, literary narratives.
You can contact Peter via his website.
Voices Before Dreams
Five villages hold their breath at day’s turning. A window opens above a bakery. A door waits beneath the ivy. A garden gate creaks for its first visitor. A bus arrives precisely on time. A postman lifts the lid of a box marked Unsent. Quiet lives, quietly witnessed, waiting to carry you toward sleep.
The Observatory That Watched Back
The summit has its own silence, distinct from the silence of lower places — thinner, older, shaped by wind and stone and the slow turning of the sky above. The observatory sits at the edge of this silence, a dome of weathered metal that has learned to wait without restlessness.
The Monastery by the Sea
The path winds down through sea grass and wild thyme, each step carrying the scent of salt deeper into the lungs. Evening light pools golden on the clifftops. The monastery emerges from the headland — its walls the colour of old bone, worn smooth by centuries of coastal storms — waiting, as it has always waited, in the quiet above…
Letters From the Old Postmaster
The box had been placed with care — weathered wood, postal twine tied in knots he recognised from decades of handling. On the bottom, in faded pencil, someone had written Undelivered — 1962–1989. His own handwriting, though he had no memory of making the notation. The years struck him as curious.
The Pillowmakers Garden
The sun arrived first as whisper, then as warmth, threading itself between the leaves of the old fig tree that stood sentinel beside the garden’s eastern wall. Light pooled in gentle puddles across the flagstone paths, catching dewdrops that had settled overnight on the petals of roses climbing the weathered brick.
The Moss Library
The path beneath your feet is not quite earth, not quite moss — something softer still, something that yields to each step with the tenderness of memory itself. Above, the canopy weaves into evening, branches interlocking with the patience of old friends, their leaves whispering secrets that need no translation.
Paper Boats on the River of Time
Paper boats drift upon the river with the patience of centuries, each one folded from forgotten words and quiet hopes. They carry no weight but memory, moving neither fast nor slow, guided only by the current that knows where every story belongs.
Whispers Before Dreams
Step into Whispers Before Dreams, a collection of five atmospheric bedtime stories for adults. Journey from a secluded coastal inn to lantern-filled lavender hills, sail beneath the stars, board a train that never hurries, and discover an unusual antique mirror. Five gentle journeys created for quiet evenings and restful nights.
The Window Above the Bakery
Before the sun has properly risen, the cobbled street lies wrapped in the last blue of night. High above, a window waits on the third floor of a narrow building. Soon it will open, and the scent of bread will begin its slow climb through the building’s bones.
The Bookshop with No Clock
There is a door at the end of an alley that most people walk past without noticing. The ivy reaches for it, the fog gathers around it, and when the door opens it does so without effort — as though it has been expecting this particular arrival.
The Passport of Forgotten Places
Upon the table, beside the candle’s warm circle of light, lies a passport — leather the colour of autumn leaves, soft with age. Its pages are thick as parchment, each one a doorway rather than a record. This is no ordinary passport: it bears stamps not of countries that are, but of places that were.
The Last Bus to Stillwater
The bus appears around the corner from Mill Street with the slow dignity of ritual, its cream and green paint faded to the colours of old photographs. The headlights cut through the gathering dusk not harshly, but with the warm glow of lanterns, casting long shadows that seem to welcome rather than intrude.
The Mirror in the Antique Shop
Mist gathers along a cobbled lane as evening settles over a small green door marked Curiosities. Inside, candlelight fills a shop crowded with forgotten objects: walking canes, fountain pens, a silent violin. At the back stands a mirror that reveals visions rather than a face, offering recognition instead of answers.
Mirrors Before Dreams – 5 Adult Bedtime Stories
In the hour before the world remembers its name, paper boats drift along a timeless river, each one folded from a letter never sent, a page of music, a child’s drawing. Elsewhere, a forest grows stories in its moss. A passport opens onto forgotten places. A monastery keeps its evening vigil. A celestial garden floats in permanent stillness.
The Inn at the Edge of the Dunes
Dusk settles over the dunes as a lone traveller follows a sand-crusted road toward a weathered inn glowing with lamplight. Inside, corridors hold the scent of driftwood smoke and dried lavender. A room waits beyond a painted window, where sea glass colours soften the view toward the waiting shore.
The Garden of Starlight
Far above the world, where the air grows thin and the last light of evening dissolves into something softer, a garden floats in permanent stillness. Its pathways are formed from pale stone that holds its own faint glow, and its flower beds grow not from soil but from crystallised moonlight.
Lanterns Over the Lavender Hills
The stone path winds between the hills like a prayer traced in earth, worn smooth by countless footsteps and the gentle passage of seasons. Here, where the lavender grows in great rolling waves, the air still holds the day’s warmth, that particular sweetness of summer evenings when time seems to…
The Train to Lavender Station
In the hours before morning has claimed the sky, a sound moves through the countryside — soft enough to be mistaken for wind through wheat. The station sign still stands, its letters worn by years of weather. Lavender Station. Those who come here do not plan to.
The Room Without Corners
The path appeared just as the light began to soften, curving through tall grass that whispered against worn stone. Somewhere ahead, through the amber haze of approaching dusk, a building emerged — not quite a house, not quite an inn, but something altogether more welcoming than either.
Echoes Before Dreams – 5 Adult Bedtime Stories
In a quiet room lit by candlelight, a letter waits beside an open window where stars gather in silence. Beyond the glass, distant lights shimmer along a river, carrying traces of journeys long passed. Here, memory does not fade—it settles gently, like ink upon paper, waiting to be remembered.
The Beacon Tower
A pulse of light, far off to the north-east. Slow and steady, appearing and disappearing in a rhythm that carried no urgency, a patient turning that repeated itself without change. He did not change course toward it. There was no reason to. It was simply there, doing what it had always done.