The Butterfly Room, an all-new not-to-be-missed sweeping family saga from #1 International bestselling author Lucinda Riley, is available now!
“Lucinda Riley once again has written a masterful saga.”– People Magazine
Full of her trademark mix of unforgettable characters and heart-breaking secrets, The Butterfly Room is a spellbinding, second-chance-at-love story from #1 International bestseller Lucinda Riley.
Posy Montague is approaching her seventieth birthday. Still living in her beautiful family home, Admiral House, set in the glorious Suffolk countryside where she spent her own idyllic childhood catching butterflies with her beloved father and raised her own children, Posy knows she must make an agonizing decision. Despite the memories of the households, and the exquisite garden she has spent twenty-five years creating, the house is crumbling around her, and Posy knows the time has come to sell it.
Then a face appears from the past – Freddie, her first love, who abandoned her and left her heartbroken fifty years ago. Already struggling to cope with her son Sam’s inept business dealings, and the sudden reappearance of her younger son Nick after ten years in Australia, Posy is reluctant to trust in Freddie’s renewed affection. And unbeknown to Posy, Freddie – and Admiral House – have a devastating secret to reveal…
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Amazon: http://mybook.to/thebutterflyroom
Apple Books: https://apple.co/2Ai5lPe
Amazon Worldwide: https://amzn.to/2X6xMs8
Nook: https://bit.ly/2M3dI3s
Kobo: https://bit.ly/2XAdVk9
Add THE BUTTERFLY ROOM to Goodreads: https://bit.ly/3er9LC1
My Rating:
Favorite Quotes:
As you know, men generally tend to be much more basic than women; for the most part, less emotionally complex. They call a spade a spade, whereas women are more likely to say it’s a metal digging implement used in the garden.
Evie decided seeing Marie was a bit like eating at McDonald’s; you looked forward to it, but then felt sick halfway through.
It suddenly struck me that I hadn’t really thought the future through; and now here I was in it,
She’s very young for an old person.
… the dress—a shimmering cream 1930s vintage piece that covered the lumps and bumps that age had brought, and didn’t make her look like a ship in full sail.
My Review:
This epic saga was beautifully written with enticingly mysterious and cleverly intertwining storylines that were threaded with a few heavy secrets and shattering tragedies that this grievously wily author used to taunt and tease me while brutally dangling them rather barbarously out of my reach. I was invested and immersed in the complexities of the characters’ overlapping and oddly compelling family dynamics after being bewitched and pleasantly enthralled by Posy’s early childhood history and interactions with her beloved father. But there was something not quite right about her household and I had numerous suspicions and licentious theories, many of which were incorrect, but I wasn’t too far afield as the long-held secrets had been scandalous in their time as well as heartbreaking. This was my first experience reading this master-storyteller and where have I been, she has written thirty books already?
The writing was of extraordinary quality with densely detailed and evocative elements and scenes laced together with vibrantly painted and richly textured descriptions as well as insightful and emotive observations. It was maddeningly paced and kept me a bit on edge, like waiting for a massive heart attack as the various glossy threads were weaving into a tighter design. It was divine and despite all the mystery, angst, and tragedy, the final chapter left me with a light and contented feeling with an ending that pleased me and placed a restful smile on my face.
Excerpt
‘Daddy?’ I asked at breakfast the next day, dipping my toast soldiers carefully into my egg. ‘It’s so hot today, can we go to the beach? We haven’t been in such a long time.’
I saw Daddy give Maman a look, but she was reading her letters over her cup of café au lait and didn’t seem to notice. Maman always got lots of letters from France, all written on very thin paper, even thinner than a butterfly wing, which suited Maman, because everything about her was so delicate and slender.
‘Daddy? The beach,’ I prompted.
‘My darling, I’m afraid the beach isn’t suitable for playing at the moment. It’s covered in barbed wire and mines. Do you remember when I explained to you about what happened in Southwold last month?’
‘Yes, Daddy.’ I looked down at my egg and shuddered, remembering how Daisy had carried me to the Anderson shelter (which I’d thought was called that because it was our surname – it had confused me a great deal when Mabel had said her family had an Anderson shelter too, as her surname was Price). It had sounded as if the sky was alive with thunder and lightning, but rather than God sending it, Daddy said it was Hitler. Inside the shelter, we had all huddled close, and Daddy had said we should pretend to be a hedgehog family, and I should curl up like a little hoglet. Maman had got quite cross about him calling me a hoglet, but that’s what I’d pretended to be, burrowed under the earth, with the humans warring above us. Eventually, the terrible sounds had stopped. Daddy had said we could all go back to bed, but I was sad to have to go to my human bed alone, rather than staying all together in our burrow.
The next morning, I had found Daisy crying in the kitchen, but she wouldn’t say what was the matter. The milk cart didn’t come that day, and then Maman had said I wouldn’t be going to school because it wasn’t there anymore.
‘But how can it not be there, Maman?’
‘A bomb fell on it, chérie,’ she’d said, blowing out cigarette smoke.
Maman was smoking now too, and I sometimes worried that she would set her letters on fire because she held them so close to her face when she was reading.
‘But what about our beach hut?’ I asked Daddy. I loved our little hut – it was painted a butter yellow, and stood at the very end of the row so if you looked the right way, you could pretend that you were the only people on the beach for miles, but if you turned the other way, you weren’t too far from the nice ice cream man by the pier. Daddy and I always made the most elaborate sandcastles, with turrets and moats, big enough for all the little crabs to live in if they decided to come close enough. Maman never wanted to come to the beach; she said it was ‘too sandy’, which I thought was rather like saying the ocean was too wet.
Meet Lucinda
Lucinda Riley was born in Ireland, and after an early career as an actress in film, theatre, and television, wrote her first book aged twenty-four. Her books have been translated into thirty-seven languages and sold twenty million copies worldwide. She is a No.1 Sunday Times and New York Times bestseller.
Lucinda is currently writing The Seven Sisters series, which tells the story of adopted sisters and is based allegorically on the mythology of the famous star constellation. It has become a global phenomenon, with each book in the series being a No.1 bestseller across the world. The series is currently in development with a major Hollywood production company.
Connect with Lucinda
Facebook: https://bit.ly/3hcFFU5
Goodreads: https://bit.ly/2WxLIdX
Instagram: https://bit.ly/3jeMQwR
Amazon: https://amzn.to/3eGtEET
Bookbub: https://bit.ly/3eIpUTa
Website: https://bit.ly/2Ba6mcH
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Blue Box Press
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