If you have followed this site for any amount of time, then you know I have mentioned Perfect Imperfections by Taryn Leigh several times and for a few days it is FREE for Amazon Kindle on ALL Amazon sites!!
It was one of my top 10 reads last year. It has a lot of personal meaning to many people for different reasons, myself included. If you have been meaning to get your copy- you can NOW!!!
Sarah Lewis desires nothing more than to begin again after a failed marriage and a tragedy so terrifying, it forces her to leave her life in London to stay with her best friend a world apart in South Africa.
Despite immediate success in her business, she struggles to understand who she really is and where she belongs in the world. So begins a journey of discovery as Sarah re-unites with Katy in the land where she was born, where the air is lavender scented, and weekends are spent cycling on the beach.
Until the day when she has to return to London to face the ghosts of her past and confront a situation that has grown more complicated in her absence.
Perfect Imperfections is an intriguing tale which hints at wrongdoings and deceit without giving too much away. The author cleverly weaves a tale around fragile yet strong Sarah as she tries to reconcile her past with her future, engaging the reader to the point where we simply want the best for her and for happiness finally to come her way.
This giraffe has significance in Perfect Imperfections AND for me as well! What is it? You must read Perfect Imperfections to find out!
My review for Perfect Imperfections is here.
I also interviewed Taryn here.
**I am looking forward to what Taryn brings us next!!!
Author: Robert Beatty
Reviewed By: Kim
Kim’s Rating: 4 stars
Escape into the story of a brave and unusual girl brimming with the ancient powers of the forest. From Robert Beatty, the author of the #1 New York Times best-selling Serafina books, comes a thrilling new series filled with the history, mystery, and magic of the Great Smoky Mountains. Kirkus Reviews described WILLA OF THE WOOD as “A moving, atmospheric journey of hope.”
Move without a sound. Steal without a trace.
Willa, a young night-spirit, is her clan’s best thief. She creeps into the cabins of the day-folk under cover of darkness and takes what they won’t miss. It’s dangerous work–the day-folk kill whatever they don’t understand–but Willa will do anything to win the approval of the padaran, the charismatic leader of the Faeran people.
When Willa’s curiosity leaves her hurt and stranded in the day-folk world, she calls upon the old powers of her beloved grandmother, and the unbreakable bonds of her forest allies, to escape. Only then does she begin to discover the shocking truth: that not all of her day-folk enemies are the same, and that the foundations of her own Faeran society are crumbling. What do you do when you realize that the society you were born and raised in is rife with evil? Do you raise your voice? Do you stand up against it?
As forces of unfathomable destruction encroach on her forest home, Willa must decide who she truly is, facing deadly force with warmest compassion, sinister corruption with trusted alliance, and finding a home for her longing heart.
I have been a huge fan of Robert Beatty since the day I read Serafina for the first time. He is a master storyteller and has a knack for capturing the beauty and atmosphere of whatever locale he writes about. You can feel his passion for nature, and history, and culture in every word he puts to page. Willa of the Wood is just another example of his amazing talent. The cover, all on its own, is amazing! I couldn’t wait to open the book and start reading, simply because of the beautiful cover! And then once I did start reading, I realized just how appropriate the cover was for the story!
Willa is a cute little Faeran who tries so hard to serve her clan and to take all the education and warnings from her mamaw and padaran seriously. She shows a maturity that makes you think she’s a flawless hunter/gatherer, so it was a little surprising watching her struggle. And her love for her home, her people, and her friends was so sweet. I will admit that the one reason I gave this book 4 stars is because it gets tree-huggery in that really dogmatic, extreme kinda way. Thankfully, Willa comes back from extremity as she grows and learns and she begins to understand necessity. I’m never one to want to stop necessary progress to save a couple trees, but I do also acknowledge that widespread destruction is harmful and wrong.
This book was incredibly emotional for me. By the time I got to the end, I realized that I was tearing up! My heart just got so warm and full; it was wonderful to get to know Willa and the Faeran and all the members of the forest and then to become invested in the story and taking the resolution so personally. I just love this book so much and this is another one that I would suggest giving to any preteen to read. Mr. Beatty is on a roll and I can’t wait to see where he takes Willa and Serafina! A great, great book!!!
Here is Kim with Robert Beatty at his book signing for Willa of the Wood!:
**It’s Time for a GIVEAWAY!!**
Many thanks to Mr. Beatty’s publicist, Scott Fowler for donating a generous Willa of the Wood prize pack for us to giveaway. This is a great prize someone is sure to love!
Included in the giveaway is:
A signed copy of the Willa of the Wood
**This giveaway is run through Rafflecopter and will run from today and end on Tuesday, 8/21 at midnight Eastern.
Due to shipping costs this giveaway will be US ONLY. Once the winner is selected, they will be contacted and their address will only be used for this giveaway. Good Luck!!!
a Rafflecopter giveaway
Today I am taking part in the blog tour for Bone Deep by Sandra Ireland. Today I am sharing an extract from the novel:Book Description:
What happens when you fall in love with the wrong person?
The consequences threaten to be far-reaching and potentially deadly. Bone Deep is a contemporary novel of sibling rivalry, love, betrayal and murder. It is a dual narrative, told in alternative chapters by Mac, a woman bent on keeping the secrets of the past from her only son, and the enigmatic Lucie, whose own past is something of a closed book. Their story is underpinned by the creaking presence of an abandoned water mill, and haunted by the local legend of two long-dead sisters, themselves rivals in love, and ready to point an accusing finger from the pages of history.
Here is the extract from Bone Deep:
Other gifts arrive from the young Lord Musgrave: love tokens, lockets, even a pony, white as new milk. It is unusual for the younger sister to wed first, and Father pretends to be angry, perplexed and put out in equal measure. There are long discussions in secret between the two men, and much ale is consumed. Eventually the deal is struck, and a wedding date set. Elspeth has never been thwarted, after all. Bella can’t bear to be in her mother’s bower anymore, as the talk turns to flowers and dresses and bairns. They even discuss the wedding night, making Bella turn crimson inside and out. She begins to dread that she will never know such a night, that no man will ever come to her father’s castle to seek her hand. Maybe she will die here, unloved, with just the old hound standing guard over her body. The hate seed burrows deep and germinates.
Love tokens. Doesn’t that conjure up something sweet and timeless and real? My fingers are stiff with cold. I put down my pen and tug the blanket more tightly round my shoulders. If I look like a bag lady, so be it. My circulation is shot to hell, all a result of this heart problem they cannot get to the bottom of. Love tokens. I press my palms against my ribcage, as if searching for the butterfly ghosts of some lost emotion, but all I can detect is a slight, tight burning sensation, the result of too much banana on my cornflakes. Jim once carved for me a love spoon out of apple wood. I think I can still remember the tickle of possibility deep inside, the belief in magic.
A memory surfaces. An elderly spinster aunt, living alone here in Fettermore, in the house by the church, my mother packing me off at regular intervals. Make yourself useful. She has no one else. The house smells of broth and mushrooms, and the dust on her fine mahogany dining table is dappled with cat-prints. I wipe them off, make tea, volunteer to shop. From the cupboard under the stairs, the old dame drags a tartan shopping trolley, deep and wide. I notice cobwebs in the corners. It is a relic, the type of monstrosity that negates my whole self-image. My mini skirt, my cute beret, my whip-smart understanding of the nuclear arms race and the ethical treatment of animals: my whole being droops like a pair of un-elasticated pants as I drag the relic along the village street. Folk stare at me from cottage windows. I am an incomer, a foreigner with a posh accent and a borrowed shopping trolley. I still remember that walk of shame.
I lived for the times when my old aunt ran out of flour. It meant I could escape to the mill. Jim would be there, a young man just out of school, helping his father. He’d fill my measure with fresh, powdery flour and smile and voice mundane country thoughts that meant nothing to the young, urban me. Been a good growing season. His slow, blue-eyed smile. Looks like we’re in for a dreich day. I started to tell him about my life in Edinburgh. My visits to the mill became more frequent. I’d wait for him in the half-dark under the apple tree, imagining the taste of flour on his lips. The apple tree was the oldest one in the mill den. It would be even older now, if that ignorant gardener hadn’t chopped it down. Back in those days, people knew how to prune trees, and one day, in the month before I left for Cambridge, Jim presented me with a love-spoon, carved especially for me from one of the branches. It’s in the drawer somewhere.
It must be. The need to find it is overwhelming. I push my chair back from the desk and get heavily to my feet, completing a 360-degree spin around the room. I feel disoriented, as if the stacks of books are bearing down on me. I bend double, hugging my laboured breathing close to me. The love token. I must find it. You kept it. You did. Every bitter bone in my body laughs off the notion. Memory chimes in with a snigger. You snapped it over your knee. You fed it into the Aga.
Sandra Ireland was born in Yorkshire, lived for many years in Limerick, and is now based in Scotland. She began her writing career as a correspondent on a local newspaper but quickly realised that fiction is much more intriguing than fact. She returned to higher education her 40s, to study for undergraduate and postgraduate degrees at Dundee University. In 2016 she won Creative Scotland funding for a residency at Barry Mill, a National Trust for Scotland property. Her debut novel was Beneath
the Skin (Polygon, 2016).