Beth and Amy by Virginia Kantra (English) Paperback Book

Description: Beth and Amy by Virginia Kantra Four sisters face new beginnings in this heartfelt modern take on Little Women by New York Times bestselling author Virginia Kantra.Four sisters face new beginnings in this heartfelt modern take on Little Women by New York Times bestselling author Virginia Kantra.Amy March is more like her older sister Jo than shed like to admit. An up-and-coming designer in New Yorks competitive fashion industry, ambitious Amy is determined to get out of her sisters shadows and keep her distance from their North Carolina hometown. But when Jos wedding forces Amy home, she must face what she really wants...and confront the One Big Mistake that could upend her life and forever change her relationship with Jo.Gentle, unassuming Beth grew up as the good girl of the family. A talented singer-songwriter, shes overcome her painful anxiety to tour with country superstar Colt Henderson. But life on the road has taken its toll on her health and their relationship. Maybe a break to attend her sisters wedding will get her out of her funk. But Beth realizes that what shes looking for and what she needs are two very different things....With the March women reunited, this time with growing careers and families, they must once again learn to lean on one another as they juggle the changes coming their way. FORMAT Paperback LANGUAGE English CONDITION Brand New Author Biography Virginia Kantrais the New York Timesbestselling author of the Children of the Sea series and the Dare Island novels. Shehas won numerous industry awards, including the Romance Writers of Americas RITA Award and two National Readers Choice Awards. Review "Kantra (Meg and Jo) continues her delightful 21st-century retelling of Little Women...Kantras compulsively readable update will attract a whole new group of readers, as well as satisfy Alcott devotees."—Publishers Weekly"Under the pen of veteran novelist Virginia Kantra, a sequel to the sequel of "Little Women" is as timely and important today as was the original in 1868."—MountainTimes.com"A pitch-perfect retelling of Little Women... It completely captures the personalities of the March girls and their friends and family, while bringing them convincingly into the modern era. I loved it."—Smart Bitches Trashy Books Review Quote "Kantra ( Meg and Jo ) continues her delightful 21st-century retelling of Little Women.. .Kantras compulsively readable update will attract a whole new group of readers, as well as satisfy Alcott devotees."-- Publishers Weekly Excerpt from Book Chapter 1 Amy Its always a mistake to sleep with a man whos in love with your sister. Even in Paris. Even if theyd broken up again-for good this time, he said. Even though Id been in love with him since I was eleven years old. But I was young and dumb and homesick. So. Whatever. I had a one-night hookup in a foreign city with Trey Laurence, the rich boy next door, after my sister broke his heart. Three years later (Thirty-three months, if I were counting. I was totally counting), I was older and a whole lot wiser. But returning home for my sisters wedding was still going to be all kinds of awkward. Oh, Id been back to North Carolina before. For holidays, and that awful time when Momma got sick, and when my nephew Robbie was born. I still saw my sister occasionally when she came to New York to visit her publisher or the restaurant where shed once worked. But even though Jo was about to be married to another man, I still couldnt face her without a squirm of guilt. Id had sex with her ex-a clear violation of the Sisters Code. As for the other guilty party, Trey . . . Well. Just because hed found a way to forgive himself didnt mean I had to forgive him. Or myself. Mostly I avoided him. Which was going to be a lot harder to do now that we were members of the same wedding party. (And no, my heart wasnt holding on to some pathetic hope that since Jo was finally marrying somebody else, Trey would pull his head out of his ass and realize it was me he loved after all.) But maybe being a bridesmaid in Jos wedding would bring me and my sister closer. Maybe this was my chance to prove to Trey-or at least to myself-that I was over him. I had better things to do with my life than obsess over a stupid childhood crush. My handbag business, Baggage, had taken off. Meghan Markle herself had recently been photographed carrying one of my totes, and demands for the rechristened "Duchess" bag were pouring in, threatening to flood my Bedford Park apartment in the Bronx. "Its like a goddamn rainbow puked in here," my assistant, Flo, had said before I left New York. She zipped tape across the top of a carton, adding to the boxes of custom orders packed and stacked for pickup by the door. I glanced from her Frida Kahlo T-shirt to her natural hair, tipped this month in fiery red. "Yeah, I know how much you hate color," I said, making her laugh. I skirted a rack of bins to get to my worktable, piled high with wallets waiting for snaps and trim. Purses, totes, and cross-body bags in bright colors and various stages of assembly overflowed every surface. I was already renting storage from the dry cleaners downstairs. My bedroom was so filled with bolts of vinyl and leather, I couldnt find my mattress. Not that I had much time to sleep anyway. The truth was, we needed a bigger workroom. A second sewing machine. More shelving. More light. Maybe even a little retail space, although a storefront in Manhattan was totally out of my price range, at least for now. I reached for a punch tool. "You sure youre all right filling these orders while Im gone?" "Mamey." Easy. Flo Callazzo was a real New Yorker, a proud Afro-Dominican-Puerto-Rican daughter of the Bronx. Me? Not so much. In Paris, my schoolgirl French had marked me as irredeemably "other." Id thought being back on American soil would feel like home. But my first week in the city, Id realized my down-home accent made me stick out among the fast-talking Yankees all around me. Waitresses asked me to repeat myself. Buyers assumed I was uneducated. Guys figured I was easy. Or naive. A dumb hick blonde. Which worked to my advantage, sometimes. "Youre not getting out of your sisters wedding on account of me," Flo said. "Im not trying to get out of anything." I busied myself inserting a snap. "I already rented a car and everything. I drive down Wednesday." "Faster to fly." "I thought Id stop along the way. Take a day to do some store checks." I didnt actually need to visit clients on my way to my sisters wedding. But I needed the car to transport her wedding present, draped across the backseat. Anyway, I loved walking into a store and seeing my bags, my brand, displayed on the gleaming shelves. #bagsinthewild #ownit I loved the expensive smell of the boutiques, citrus, sandalwood, jasmine, the fragrant scent of bergamot oil. The accounts were always happy to see me, flattered Id gone out of my way to visit. Not like going home at all. Not that my family didnt love me, I told myself as I left the last client store in Raleigh and hit the highway for my mothers farm. They did. All of them, even Jo. But my sisters were too busy with their own lives to care much about mine. Our mother, who never took a days vacation in her life, had encouraged all of us girls to work hard and follow our dreams. Meg was the perfect mother to two perfect children. Jo was a bestselling author. Beth was a budding country star. And I . . . I made accessories. It didnt matter how many Instagram followers or employees I had. In my familys eyes, I was still little Amy, playing with scraps from Miss Hannahs quilting bag. And yet . . . There was comfort in the familiar landscape rushing by, the tall pines stretching to the wide blue sky, the sunlit ditches full of cattails and turtles, the poppies blooming by the side of the road. I turned up the gravel drive marked sisters farm, the stones spitting beneath my tires. The square frame house, the old mule barn turned creamery, the childs playset in the baby goats paddock. Home. Too bad nobody was there. No car. No truck. Nobody. I got out of the car and took a deep breath of country air scented with hay and the river. Also . . . goats. Brown goats, black goats, striped and spotted goats, all sizes, smelling like cheese left out on the counter too long. They crowded to the fence, bleating and bumping for attention, the babies skipping around the paddock like they were auditioning for YouTube. Cute, if you liked that sort of thing. Our mother loved them. Not more than she loved us girls, of course. Our mother, Abigail March, could do anything-drive a tractor, make a pie crust, refinish a table. Find anything-toys, shoes, missing homework. Fix anything, except a broken heart. She made sure we got our shots and permission slips on time, taught Meg to cook and me to sew, and came to all our school performances. But her time and attention were always rationed between us and the farm. Meg said things were different before Daddy quit his job as a minister and went to Iraq as an army chaplain. I remember I cried when we left the parsonage and all my friends in town. But I was only ten when our mother moved us girls out to the farm. Most of my memories were of her working. It wasnt like her to be gone in the middle of the day. I didnt expect to see our dad. Mom had asked him to move out almost three years ago. But I felt his absence like poking at a missing tooth with your tongue. Stupid. Meg and Jo were grown and gone when I was still in high school. I should be used to coming home to an almost empty house by now. I leaned against the front fender as I called Mommas cell. She didnt pick up. Typical. "Why would I ignore somebody standing right in front of me to answer the phone?" she liked to say. But I could call Meg, my oldest sister. Meg was busy, too-her twins were about to turn five, and she kept the books for several farms and businesses in town. But she always found time for me. A guy walked around the corner of the barn. Tall and rough-looking, his face seamed with sun and hard living behind a dont-mess-with-me beard. I kept a hand on my phone just in case he turned out to be, oh, a serial killer or something. Living in New York had taught me caution. And out here in the country, nobody was around to hear me scream. "Hi." He nodded in greeting. The strong, silent type, obviously. Beneath the beard, he looked vaguely familiar. Which . . . Yeah. Everybody looked familiar in Bunyan. Because of inbreeding, Jo said. But it was more that everybody had a cousin who used to go to your daddys church or went to school with your sister, strands of connection twined and knotted like macramZ. I tried again. "Do I know you?" He looked at me, no expression at all, like a New Yorker. Or a Frenchman. "Dan Harkins." I smiled encouragingly, waiting. "I work for your ma." So he knew who I was. Or at least that Momma was expecting me. I relaxed my grip on the phone. Our mother came from tough Scottish stock, too proud-or too cheap-to pay somebody else to do her work. But after she was hospitalized a couple years ago, shed hired some of Dads vets to do the heavy lifting. Mom was better now, but as her herd and business grew, shed kept on some of the new hires. "Where is my mother?" I asked. "Over at Oak Hill." A pause. "Helping your sister." Jo, being Jo, had taken a casual approach to her wedding. She and her love, Eric Bhaer, were already liv Details ISBN0593100360 Author Virginia Kantra Language English ISBN-10 0593100360 ISBN-13 9780593100363 Format Paperback Year 2021 Place of Publication New York Country of Publication United States UK Release Date 2021-05-25 US Release Date 2021-05-25 Publisher Penguin Putnam Inc Publication Date 2021-05-25 Imprint Berkley Publishing Corporation,U.S. DEWEY 813.6 Audience General NZ Release Date 2021-08-02 AU Release Date 2021-08-02 Pages 352 We've got this At The Nile, if you're looking for it, we've got it. With fast shipping, low prices, friendly service and well over a million items - you're bound to find what you want, at a price you'll love! TheNile_Item_ID:132177716;

Price: 25.32 AUD

Location: Melbourne

End Time: 2024-11-24T02:46:37.000Z

Shipping Cost: 0 AUD