The New York Times bestselling author of the wildly popular MacLean Curse series crafts a charming and evocative story about a picturesque Southern town, two fiercely independent women, and a magical friendship that will change their lives forever.
The residents of Dove Pond, North Carolina, know three things: they have the finest bar-b-que this side of Atlanta, their Apple Festival is the best that ever was, and the town has phenomenal good luck whenever the Dove family has seven daughters. Fortunately, that time is now, because Dove Pond desperately needs a miracle.
The seventh daughter, Sarah Dove, believes in all things magical. Books have whispered their secrets to her since she was a child. Now the town librarian, she makes sure every book finds the reader who most needs it. But recently the books have been whispering something different—that change is about to come to Dove Pond. Sarah is soon convinced that the legendary Dove Pond good luck has arrived in the form of new resident, Grace Wheeler.
After the tragic death of her sister, Grace has moved to Dove Pond with her grieving young niece and ailing foster mother hoping to retrench financially and emotionally before returning to her fast-paced city life. But she soon learns that life in a not-so-sleepy town isn’t as quiet as she’d hoped. Despite her best efforts to focus on her family, she can’t avoid the townspeople, especially her next-door neighbors, the quirky and talkative Sarah Dove and cynical veteran Chris Parker. Grace’s situation grows more complicated when she assumes her duties as town clerk and discovers that Dove Pond is on the verge of financial ruin.
Already overburdened by her own cares, Grace tries to stay aloof from the town’s issues, but she’s never been good at resisting a challenge. With Sarah’s encouragement, and inspired by the wise words of a special book, Grace decides to save her new town. And in her quest, she discovers the rich comfort of being a part of a loving community, the tantalizing promise of new love, the deep strength that comes from having a true friend, and the heartfelt power of finding just the right book.
With Karen Hawkins’s “fast, fun, and sexy” (Christina Dodd) prose, The Book Charmer is a feel-good story with plenty of heart that will appeal to fans of Sarah Addison Allen, Alice Hoffman, Heather Graham, and Jude Deveraux.
|Product dimensions:||5.30(w) x 8.20(h) x 1.00(d)|
About the Author
Karen Hawkins writes novels that have been praised as touching, witty, charming, and heartwarming. A native Southerner who grew up in the mountains of East Tennessee where storytelling is a way of life, Karen recently moved to frosty New England with her beloved husband and multiple foster dogs. The Dove Pond series is a nod to the thousands of books that opened doors for her to more adventures, places, and discoveries than she ever imagined possible. To find out more about Karen, check in with her at Facebook.com/KarenHawkinsWriter, @KarenHawkinsAuthor on Instagram, and at her website, KarenHawkins.com.
Read an Excerpt
The Book Charmer
DOVE POND, NC
MAY 16, 2019
“Are we there yet?” Daisy asked.
“No,” Grace said for the eighth time, her eyes locked on the moving truck that slowly rumbled along in front of her Honda. Every side of the ancient truck bore the words MCLAREN’S YOU NEED TO MOVE WE CAN DO IT, LLC.
Mama G, in the front beside Grace, looked over the seat at Daisy. “We just passed the ‘Welcome to Dove Pond’ sign, so it won’t be long now.”
“We’ve been driving forever.” Daisy slumped, twirling her ponytail with restless fingers, a habit she’d picked up during the past few difficult months.
Daisy was a precocious child, this daughter of Hannah’s and an unknown boy from her high school. Even at the tender age of eight, Daisy was an odd, old-souled sort of kid, all elbows and knees, blurting what she thought no matter how bold or ill-advised. She was smart too, perhaps even brilliant, according to her test scores, and she could read well above her level, devouring books the way most kids her age devoured cartoons. Despite that, the child made only mediocre grades, as she was easily distracted, she and her restless mind. Just like her mother.
Grace looked at Daisy in the rearview mirror, noting the blond hair and crystal-blue eyes. Oh, Hannah, you would be so proud of her. Grace’s throat tightened and she forced herself to focus on the truck they followed.
Mama G looked up from her knitting to admire the large maples and elms that dotted the streets. “I love these trees.” She sighed happily, then returned her attention to the mittens she was making.
Shortly after Grace and Hannah had come to live with Mama G, she’d taken up knitting, saying it “calmed the nerves.” Grace thought that was strange, because no one had a more peaceful spirit than Mama G. Over the years, she’d made hundreds of scarves and mittens, most of which had ended up in Grace’s room, as Hannah had never liked them.
Grace glanced over at Mama G now. Her once-graceful hands were liver spotted and gnarled, but they never stopped moving. Normally, Mama G’s rhythmic knitting sent a flood of calm through Grace, but today it did nothing.
Right now, everything felt useless, empty. Broken.
Grace swallowed the lump in her throat and applied the brakes as the moving truck slowed in front of her. “We should be turning onto Elm Street soon.”
As if in answer to her prayers, the truck’s signal flashed and the vehicle slowly turned.
“Almost there.” Grace admired the rows of elms that shaded the road. “Our new house is at the end of this street.” New meaning “recently rented.” She silently ticked through her Things That Must Be Done list: unpack, register Daisy for school, find a caretaker for Mama G—the list seemed endless, and she winced to think about the shrinking amount left in her bank accounts. The events of the past few months had murdered her savings. But by Grace’s careful calculations, if they lived frugally over the next year, they would have enough for a down payment on a small house in Charlotte.
The thought of returning to Charlotte calmed Grace. For the past five years, she’d worked at a large financial company in one of the city’s trendier areas. She’d been happy there and, until the craziness of the past few months, she’d never thought she’d leave.
But she’d go back, and this time she’d take Mama G and Daisy. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would happen. She would make sure of it.
Behind her, Daisy leaned against her window and stared at the houses rolling past. The street was long and wide, the sidewalks shaded by the towering trees. The quality of the houses perched along the way gave Grace hope. Huge and ornate, the grand old lady houses flaunted a variety of pastel colors. Windows glinting in the afternoon sunshine, they gazed at one another with sleepy, lace-fluttered windows and wide, white-trimmed porches.
It looks like a safe neighborhood, and these houses—wow! Perhaps this will all work out. Hope blossomed, so Grace—ever cautious—tried to tamp it down, hugging her worries like a shield.
“I like these houses,” Daisy said. “I bet they have ghosts. They look like the right kind.”
Grace looked at Daisy in the rearview mirror and saw her niece’s nose pressed against the window glass. “There is no such thing as ghosts.”
Her mouth instantly tight with anger, Daisy said in a sullen tone, “How would you know?”
Grace had to clamp her mouth over a sharp reply. Just a week ago, Mama G had warned Grace to pick her battles with Daisy, and this wasn’t a hill worth dying on.
It still hurt, though. And Grace was never sure if she was giving up some sort of authority by not reprimanding Daisy about things like tone of voice and eye rolls. I don’t know a darn thing about raising kids. Not one. Yet now, here I am.
Until two months ago, Grace’s position in Daisy’s life had been “Favorite Aunt” and nothing else. Grace had loved being the FA, who breezed into town like Mary Poppins, beloved by everyone as she bestowed presents and took Mama G and Daisy on all sorts of fun adventures. Those were the days, she thought wistfully. But things were different now. Everything has changed.
Daisy muttered to herself, “I like ghosts.”
Grace tightened her grip on the steering wheel. It was silly to argue about something as ridiculous as ghosts, but she didn’t want Daisy afraid to sleep at night because of every old-house thump and creak. For all of Daisy’s bravado, she was a sensitive child and suffered from her own overactive imagination.
“Ghosts can be very nice,” Mama G said in a thoughtful tone. “The ones I’ve met were, anyway.”
Daisy leaned toward the front seat as far as her seat belt would let her. “You’ve met ghosts? Were they—”
“She’s joking, of course,” Grace interrupted. She wished Mama G wouldn’t encourage Daisy’s flights of fancy.
“Mama G, tell Aunt Grace you aren’t joking,” Daisy said in a belligerent tone. “Tell her that you’ve seen ghosts.”
Grace swallowed a sigh. Parenting was damned hard. If you weren’t being scoffed at, you were being challenged. But then again, maybe it was only difficult because she sucked at it. Part of the problem was that while she wasn’t really Daisy’s mother, Grace’d also lost her standing as the Favorite Aunt. Right now, neither she nor Daisy was quite sure what Grace was, except inexperienced.
Loneliness swamped Grace, seeping into her soul like icy water. Growing up, no matter how badly life had treated her and Hannah, they’d had each other. Even when, at seventeen years of age, rebellious Hannah had run away, leaving four-month-old Daisy with Mama G, she’d kept in touch with Grace. Grace had been in college, neck-deep in tests and papers and fighting for her place on the dean’s list, but she’d been ridiculously grateful for Hannah’s scarce text messages and rare phone calls, even though 90 percent of them had been requests for money. Still, those tiny contacts had made Grace feel that she and Hannah were still a family. But more than that, they’d allowed Grace to pretend that things were okay. That Hannah was okay, even though she wasn’t.
Two months and eleven days ago, Hannah had died, her life burned to a crisp by her own wild spirits. And Grace, still pretending things were “okay,” hadn’t been ready. There was a hole in her life now, one she didn’t know how to fill. Somehow, in losing her sister, she’d also lost all the hopes she’d been clinging to that, with time and love, Hannah would stop wandering the world like a lost soul, chasing dangerous men and even more dangerous thrills. That one day, she’d come home, realize how much she missed Grace and Mama G, and how special Daisy was, and she’d welcome them all back into her life. That they’d finally become the family Grace had always so desperately wanted them to be.
Hannah’s death had left Grace aching, angry, and empty. But it was even harder for Daisy. The little girl had loved her beautiful but distant mother with an obstinate, uncritical passion. For weeks after the funeral, she’d refused to go to school, staying in bed unless forced to get up, arguing about everything with everybody. It had taken all of Mama G’s considerable influence to convince Daisy to return to her classroom. But once there, the child had been sullen and silent, ignoring her friends and teachers alike. She did no homework and when the time came to take a test, instead of answering the problems, she filled the paper with drawings of furious dragons spewing fire. Had her previous grades not been so high and her teachers so understanding, she might have failed.
The school counselor had warned Grace that the next few months, and perhaps longer, would be difficult and that it would be normal for Daisy to continue to “act out,” at least for a while. Despite the warning, Daisy’s sudden flares of anger and her stubborn refusal to accept Grace as a parent had made a difficult situation even worse.
But more than anyone else, Grace understood anger. What was difficult was seeing the sheer pain that lurked behind every sharp word that tumbled from Daisy’s mouth and being unable to do anything to help.
Grace gripped the steering wheel harder, torn between a growing anger at Hannah for being so careless with herself, even though it had cost others, and also desperate to tell her how much she’d been loved. Everyone loved you, Hannah. Everyone except you.
“Ghosts aren’t always bad, you know,” Mama G mused aloud as she pulled a length of yarn from her knitting basket.
“Mama G, please. Don’t.”
Mama G nodded. “I know what you’re thinking, but ghosts are nothing like the silliness people put in horror movies. Ghosts aren’t scary at all. They’re just wisps of lives gone by. Shadows, really.”
“What do they look like?” Daisy asked before Grace could change the subject.
Mama G stopped knitting and pursed her lips. “Sometimes they’re a faint shape. And sometimes they’re just a memory that flickers out of the corner of your eye.”
“I’m going to meet one,” Daisy announced. “I’m going to find out how she died so I can help her find her murderer.”
“Most ghosts weren’t murdered,” Mama G said calmly, pulling more yarn from her basket. “Most died in their sleep.”
Grace knew what would happen now. Daisy, always too excitable, wouldn’t be able to sleep and it would be Grace, and not Mama G, who’d have to handle it. “Ghosts don’t exist,” Grace repeated firmly. “At all.” She wished the moving truck would find the house. It was barely creeping along, and she had no wish to continue this conversation.
Mama G didn’t look up from her knitting, but said under her breath, “Well, well. Someone is in for a surprise.”
“It’s not going to be me,” Grace said baldly. “Mama G, the likelihood of— Ah! Here we are!” Thank God. She slapped a smile on her face and was about to say something ridiculous like Welcome home! when the house came into view.
Grace’s hopes were instantly and viciously smashed.
Although as beautiful and gracious in design as its neighbors, the house at the end of the driveway was a faded shadow of the others. The pale lavender color was now more gray than purple, the wide porch was crooked, and much of the delightful trim she’d seen on the other houses was missing, the paint chipped and peeling. Grace was reminded of a jaded old woman wearing a faded housecoat, her worn smile marred by missing teeth.
“I bet this house has ghosts,” Daisy said.
“Oh, I’m sure there’s more than one,” Mama G agreed as she stored her knitting in her basket.
Dear God, please keep me from screaming. Grace drove past the moving truck, which had pulled close to the walk, and parked her car beside a large, rusty RV that sat at the rear of the driveway near a garage with a deeply dented door. She put the car in park and stared up at the house, noting the thick moss that clung to the roof.
Mama G patted Grace’s hand where it rested on the steering wheel. “The car’s still running.”
“I know.” She wondered what would happen if they just stayed where they were, locked safely away. The car wasn’t large, but it was big enough to sleep in if they lowered the seats and had pillows and blankets and—
“Look!” Daisy opened her door. “There’s a tire swing in the tree in the front yard.”
Mama G nodded. “I saw that. You’ll have to give it a try and see how high you can swing.”
“Daisy, wait.” Grace leaned forward and tried to see the swing. “Don’t get on it yet. I want to be sure it’s safe before you—”
It was too late. Daisy had already jumped out and was headed for the swing.
“I’ll get her.” Mama G climbed out of the car and started to follow Daisy but then stopped. She leaned down to look at Grace, where she sat glued in the driver’s seat. “Come inside. It may need a little work, but it’s a lovely house.”
“It’s a wreck,” Grace said flatly.
Mama G smiled, although it was a tired, worn effort. “Grace, I know this is difficult for you—”
“For all of us.”
Mama G’s gaze softened. “Right now, life isn’t fair for any of us. We’re all three mad at life, at all of this change—maybe even at Hannah.”
Grace’s throat tightened.
Mama G sat back in the passenger seat and placed her hand over Grace’s. “You have to let it go. All of it—your anger, your worries, your fears. Daisy is counting on you. And, as much as I hate to add to your problems, so am I.”
Grace grasped Mama G’s hand and squeezed it. “I owe you a thousand years of being counted on.”
Mama G smiled sadly. “Unfortunately, I think you’re about to pay them all back at once. But we have to move forward, sweetheart. And we can’t do that if we hold on to what was.”
“I’m not holding on to anything.”
“Not on purpose, perhaps. But you are in other ways. And so am I, and so is Daisy. It’s tough letting go of something you only thought you had, and that’s what Hannah was—she was a maybe. A possibly. A perhaps. She knew how to make people hope that she was more than she was ever willing to be.”
Grace didn’t think she’d ever heard a better description of Hannah. Still, it was who Hannah was, who she’d always been. Tears burned Grace’s eyes. “She never came to visit and rarely called, but I miss her. It’s so weird. It’s—” She swiped the tears from her eyes.
“I know.” Mama G patted Grace’s hand. “Everything is going to be all right.”
“I wish I believed that.”
Mama G chuckled. “Always the skeptic, aren’t you? Even when you were a child. But look. We came to Dove Pond for a new start. If we decide to, we’ll find happiness here. I know we will. This town is . . . well, it’s different. And this is where we’re supposed to be. I’m sure of it.”
Her throat too tight to answer, Grace managed a short nod, although she wished she felt sure about something—anything, really.
Mama G sighed and pulled her hand from Grace’s. “Come in when you’re ready.” She slid back out of the car and started to straighten, but then hesitated.
Grace’s heart sank anew at the flicker of uncertainty in Mama G’s usually serene face. It took all her strength not to let her voice break as she said softly, “You were going to see to Daisy. She went to the swing.”
Mama G’s face cleared. “Oh yes. Daisy.” She nodded as if that was all she needed to hear, but her face was pink with embarrassment. With a few mumbled words, she walked away, the car door hanging open in her wake.
Grace bent over the steering wheel and rubbed her aching temples. Mama G’s memory was getting worse. A month ago, Grace had found her standing in the middle of the road in front of her own home, the mail clutched forgotten in her hands as she looked around, confused and unaware that she was less than forty feet from her front door.
Warm, humid summer air swirled inside from the open door. Grace closed her eyes, remembering the neat, wonderful life she’d led only a few short months ago when she’d stupidly thought she had figured out life, success, happiness—everything. But all that had changed with one phone call from a weeping Mama G, whose every other word had been “Hannah.”
Grace had gone back to Mama G’s house and together they’d organized the funeral and tried to untangle the mess that had been Hannah’s life. While there, Grace had slowly realized that Mama G wasn’t herself. She kept forgetting things, items had been left in odd places, and doctor’s appointments were made and missed. After finding Mama G looking so confused in front of her own house, Grace had taken her to the doctor, who’d confirmed that the always-strong, never-wavering Mama G was showing signs of Alzheimer’s.
Grace’s heart, already broken by Hannah’s death, had shattered. Mama G was the rock Grace had built her life upon. And now, quite suddenly, it was Grace’s turn to make things work and to take care of not just Mama G, but the recalcitrant Daisy as well. Grace only hoped she was strong enough to do both.
At first, she’d hoped she could pack them up and take them to Charlotte with her, but it had taken no more than ten minutes of honest face-the-music thought for her to realize that she couldn’t continue to work eighty hours a week as a financial analyst, raise a devastated and angry Daisy, and take care of Mama G, all at one and the same time. No matter how many times Grace ran the numbers, the reality was grim but clear.
So, bowed but unbroken, Grace had quit her dream job, cashed in her retirement plan, paid off her lease, and moved back home to look after what was left of her small, tattered family.
She needed a new job, of course, something with far more flexibility than her previous position. While she’d been searching, one of Mama G’s cousins, a sharp-tongued woman by the name of Mrs. Philomedra Phelps, had called Grace and offered her the job of Town Clerk Level 1 for Dove Pond, North Carolina, Mama G’s old hometown. The position was well below Grace’s skill level, but offered the flexible hours she desperately needed. Attached to the offer was the rental of Mrs. Phelps’s own home at a ridiculously low amount, as she was retiring to Florida.
Grace hadn’t wanted to move, for the salary was dismal. But two days after Mrs. Phelps’s phone call, a big storm had blown through Whitlow and Mama G’s ancient house had sprung what seemed like a hundred leaks. Almost every pot in the house had been called into service to catch the water as it dripped through the eaves and dissolved the ceiling plaster, raining wet, soggy clumps onto Mama G’s furniture and rugs. When the repairman came to assess the damage, the burly man had reluctantly informed Grace that the old, rickety clapboard house was past fixing.
The day after this bleak news, the dementia specialist overseeing Mama G’s care made a chance comment that brought Grace back to Mrs. Phelps’s offer. While discussing treatment options, the specialist mentioned how she’d taken her own mother back to her hometown after she’d been similarly diagnosed and that it had seemed to ease the decline, at least a little.
The doctor hadn’t offered the comment as a cure, and indeed, she hadn’t mentioned it more than once, but the words had caught Grace’s attention. After a long and sleepless night, Grace had called Mrs. Phelps and accepted the job.
And now, here they were, moving from Mama G’s worn-out house and into another ramshackle eyesore in the picturesque town of Dove Pond.
Grace wished for the thousandth time that this was all a dream and she’d wake up to everything the way it had been, that Hannah was alive and Daisy not so angry, Mama G’s memory not chipping away like old paint, and—
Someone knocked on the window. Two men peered at her through the glass. The big man in gray overalls was mover Ricky Bob McLaren, his brown hair slicked to one side as if his comb only worked in one direction. She knew who he was because of the large patch on his shirt. At his side was his helper, a short, round, bearded man with the name TOMMY emblazoned on his much smaller patch.
Ricky Bob pointed to the truck, then to the house, and then back to the truck.
Tommy, as if helping his boss, mimicked the movements, but in an exaggerated fashion.
Grace rolled down the window. “Yes?”
Ricky Bob held out his hand. “We’ll need the house keys.”
“Mrs. Phelps should still be home.” Grace turned off the car and climbed out. “I’ll find her. She—”
“There you are,” spoke a brisk, sharp voice, followed by a clanking noise that gave Grace visions of Scrooge’s Marley. From around the moving truck, a squat, iron-haired woman in a flowered shirt and khaki shorts appeared. She leaned heavily to one side, carrying a tote filled with bottles of margarita mix and tequila, which clanged with each step. The old woman scowled at Grace. “You said you’d be here by three.”
“I said we’d be here around three,” Grace corrected, adding a smile to soften her words. “It’s barely three thirty.”
“Which is thirty minutes late. I have hours to drive and a schedule to keep.” The woman walked past Grace, the bag of bottles hanging dangerously close to the cracked driveway.
Ricky Bob and Tommy scrambled to get out of her way, scattering like chickens seeing a fox.
Grace swallowed a sharp retort. “The moving men need the house keys.”
Mrs. Phelps rolled her eyes. “The doors are unlocked.”
“Thank you,” the men mumbled as they hurried off.
Grace watched as they made their way into the house, glad to see Mama G and Daisy leave the swing and follow them inside. Grace felt safer knowing they were indoors.
Mrs. Phelps clanked her way toward the ancient RV. “I never lock the doors and Ricky Bob knows that, but then he’s an idiot.” She set the tote on the ground beside the passenger door of the rusty vehicle. “He was a sight smarter when he was fifteen, if you can believe it. But not now. Too much football. That boy’s had more concussions than most people have had colds.”
“I was told he was a good mover.”
“Better than most, providing you keep the instructions simple.” Mrs. Phelps looked Grace up and down. “My, look at you. Where are you going that you’re so dressed up?”
Grace looked down at her sundress and sandals, both of which were better suited for a day out in Charlotte’s tony Myers Park district than here in tiny Dove Pond. “It’s part of my strategy to win the world. You know—dress for the life you want, not the life you have.”
“If you dress like that in town hall, you’ll be the only one seeing it. The mayor only comes in for a few hours a day, if that. So, other than tax season, you’ll be pretty much alone.” Mrs. Phelps opened the passenger door, placed her tote on the floorboard, then slammed the door closed. “That’s it, then. I’d better get on the road. I scheduled a pee break at seven o’clock, as I should be near Atlanta by then, and you don’t want to get caught in traffic and need to pee.”
Grace managed to keep her smile, but barely. “You’re very organized. That bodes well for my taking on your old job. I’d like to talk about that, as the job description was vague. To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what the town clerk does.”
“Every damn thing,” Mrs. Phelps said baldly. She walked around the front of the RV to the driver’s door, Grace following. “You’ll process business licenses, voter registrations, and tax and fee payments. You’ll figure it out.”
Grace hoped the older woman was right. “I’ll call if I have questions. But before you leave, about the house. It’s . . . um. Not good. It’s in worse shape than I expected.”
Mrs. Phelps stopped by the driver’s door. “She’s solid. Everything works. As we discussed on the phone, I left some of the larger pieces of furniture for you. The rest is stored in the garage, so if you decide you want to use it, just help yourself. You’re welcome to it.”
“Thank you. I’m worried about the porch, though. It looks crooked.”
Mrs. Phelps fixed her icy button-bright gaze on Grace and lifted her thick eyebrows. “That porch has been crooked as long as I’ve been breathing, and it hasn’t fallen off the house yet. So long as you don’t load it up with a hundred or more fat people, it should stand for another hundred and fifty years.” Mrs. Phelps regarded Grace with suspicion. “You don’t plan on doing that, do you? Load it up with fat people? When we spoke on the phone, you said you weren’t a partier.”
“I’m not, and I don’t plan on loading the porch with anyone. I—” Grace bit off the rest of her sentence and took a steadying breath. “I would like to have someone check it out.”
Mrs. Phelps looked as if she wanted to argue, but a quick glance at her wristwatch made her snap out a reluctant, “Fine! There’s a business card for the Callahan brothers in the kitchen drawer by the stove. They own a handyman business and can fix just about anything. Call them and have them look at it. If they think something needs doing, they’ll know who to bill.”
“Great. Thank you.”
Mrs. Phelps opened the driver’s-side door, revealing a large, cracked-leather captain’s chair. She hauled herself inside, plopped into the seat, and slammed the door before saying out the open window, “As I told you on the phone, everything is included in the rent but yard care. Better watch that. If you don’t keep it up, you’ll have one of the Dove sisters on your ass about it, and you don’t want that.”
“The Dove sisters?”
“They live there.” Mrs. Phelps nodded up the street.
Grace turned to look. Two houses from them sat what must have been the largest house in Dove Pond. Painted a bold mauve and decorated with more than a usual amount of ornate white trim, it towered over its not-so-small neighbors. But it was the yard that stole all the glory. The grass was a deep, velvety green like that of a golf course, but it was a mere background for the hundreds—no, thousands—of flowers that bloomed in meticulously kept beds around the house, down the walkway, around each tree, and along the street. “That belongs on a movie set,” Grace murmured.
“They keep the place up,” Mrs. Phelps admitted in a grudging tone. “Unfortunately, they’re busybodies and will notice if you don’t mow.”
Grace imagined white-haired crones with hooked noses yelling about the height of the grass and demanding that people pick up after their pets. Great. “I can’t abide rudeness.”
“They aren’t rude. More likely to kill you with kindness, which annoys the crap out of me even more than rudeness. And they’re always watching.” Mrs. Phelps eyed the mauve house with obvious distaste. “I don’t see ’em now. Probably at work. The oldest is never home, as she has her own business. But the youngest, Sarah, is the town librarian, and she’s always at the fence between her house and the one next door talking to Travis Parker. He lives there.” Mrs. Phelps nodded at the smaller, neat-looking yellow house that served as a buffer between her house and the Doves’.
“I hope he’s a good neighbor.”
“Not bad,” Mrs. Phelps said, although she didn’t seem happy about it. “Although I can’t stand his damn motorcycle, which he drives like a bat out of hell. He has long hair and tattoos up both arms, but he’s a veteran, so I guess that’s okay. The house used to be his father’s, who died a year or so ago. Trav mostly keeps to himself, which is good.”
Well, that didn’t sound too bad. Except for the motorcycle. She hoped it wasn’t too noisy.
“Damn it, look at the time! I’ve got to go.” Mrs. Phelps started the RV, which belched a puff of black smoke before settling into a rumbly hum. “Call if you have more questions. You have my number.”
“I will. Did you say goodbye to Mama G? She was in the front yard when you came out.”
Mrs. Phelps’s face softened. “We spoke. She seemed fine at first, talking about the house and the memories she had of it, but then I asked why you all had moved here, and she couldn’t remember. Like it had just slipped out of her mind, a big thing like that.”
“It’s been happening more often.”
“Inna was always the smartest one in the room, too. It’s hard to see her like that. She could make me laugh, even when I felt like the world was about to end.” Mrs. Phelps’s blue eyes grew shiny and she fished in her pocket for a wadded tissue. “It’s not so obvious when you talk to her on the phone, but in person . . . Damn.” She wiped her eyes and blew her nose before saying in a husky voice, “Take care of her, will you?”
“I will. I need to find someone to watch after her when I’m at work.”
“Linda Robinson.” Mrs. Phelps tossed the tissue into the empty ashtray. “She’s good. Her husband, Mark, works at the post office, so just go in and ask. He’ll put you in touch with her.”
Grace nodded. She tried to think of something else to ask Mrs. Phelps, but nothing came.
This was it, then. And yet Grace hated to let the old woman leave. As prickly as she was, once Mrs. Phelps left, the move to Dove Pond would be official.
No, not permanent, Grace told herself briskly. I have a plan, and if everything goes right, then in a year we’ll move to Charlotte and start fresh.
She took a deep breath. It felt good to have a goal for the future firmly in mind. It allowed her to look past the dreary, harsh realities of her present-day situation, and focus on a brighter and better future. Still, her feet didn’t move away from the RV. “Good luck in Florida.”
“Thanks.” Mrs. Phelps looked down the tree-lined street. “I’m going to miss this place. I’d stay here, but my kids moved away, so . . .” She straightened her shoulders as if pushing off pounds of regrets. “Can’t spoil my grandbabies unless I’m there. My daughter’s mother-in-law has already moved there, and she’s had free rein for far too long.”
“Ah. You’re going to stop her.”
“Stop her? Hell no! I’m going to join her. Two grandmothers are better than one. Evelyn is a hoot, too. We plan on joining a line-dance class together, maybe even try belly dancing.” Mrs. Phelps chuckled. “My daughter won’t know what’s hit her.”
“I’m sure she’ll be glad you’re there.”
“She’d better be. This move is costing me plenty.” Mrs. Phelps revved her engine and removed her arm from the window. “Enjoy Dove Pond!”
Grace stepped back. “We will. We’ll take care of—”
But she was speaking to the side of the RV, as Mrs. Phelps was already moving. The old woman maneuvered the creaky vehicle past Grace’s Honda, around the moving truck, and then—with a speed that belied its massive size—whisked the lumbering vehicle down the drive.
Grace had never been more jealous of a rusty old RV in her life. What she would have given to speed away from this derelict house and the dismal year that lay ahead. If it weren’t for Daisy and Mama G, I’d pay someone to take my place. Or I would if I could afford it.
But she couldn’t, which was why they were here now, she and Mama G and Daisy, all three of them washed up onshore, shipwrecked victims in Hannah’s destructive wake. Oh, Hannah, why did you—
“Grace?” Mama G appeared from around the moving truck, her brow furrowed with worry. “The movers are asking where to put things and I don’t know what to tell them.”
Grace took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Let’s go see what they need.” She slipped an arm around Mama G’s thin shoulders and they walked back to the house.
Once inside, she settled Mama G and her knitting onto a lumpy, peach-colored divan that had been left in the front sitting room and then went to speak to the movers.
As Grace walked through the rooms, she took stock of their new home. The inside of the house matched the outside—both were lopsided and faded, with hints of long-ago grandeur. The floor was made of wide pine planks that had been scuffed by the rubber and leather soles of a thousand feet. At one time, the plastered walls must have been a golden color, but over the years, in places where the sun hit, pale yellow patches had bloomed. The light fixtures were wrought-iron relics of a time gone by and in need of a thorough cleaning. A wide staircase with a decorative handrail arose from the foyer to the second floor, and Grace could hear Daisy’s quick footfalls overhead as she went from room to room. Here and there were the large, surprisingly ornate pieces of furniture Mrs. Phelps had left in the house—the long, peach-colored divan Mama G was now perched upon, a pair of green-velvet-covered chairs that looked as if they belonged on a movie set, and a cupboard that filled one corner of the sitting room all the way to the ten-foot ceiling.
Grace joined the moving men where they stood beside the cocoon of tape and blankets that protected her dining room table.
“It won’t fit,” Ricky Bob announced. “At least not with that in here.” He nodded to a huge walnut buffet Mrs. Phelps had left behind. The monstrosity lined one wall and looked more appropriate for a castle.
“We can put the table against the far wall.” Tommy scratched his jaw. “But it’ll be tight, so your funk shoe might be off-kilter.”
Ricky Bob snorted. “Tommy, I done told you about a million times it’s ‘fang sway,’ not ‘funk shoe.’?” He stripped off the tape that held the blankets in place over the table’s delicate surface and then he and his assistant folded the cotton covers and placed them in a neat pile. “I suppose we could move this buffet to another room, if you want.”
Grace picked up the blankets. “It’s huge, so I doubt it’ll fit anywhere else. Just leave it there. The table will be fine against the wall.”
“Interested in selling those blankets? I can pay you five dollars each and help you make back the money they cost you.”
Grace’s arms tightened around the covers. “No, thank you. I’ll need them when I move again. We’re only staying a year.”
Ricky Bob looked surprised at this, but soon he and Tommy headed back out to the truck while Grace stashed the blankets inside the built-in corner cupboard in the living room. When she finished, she returned to where her table sat, the late-afternoon sun slanting over the gleaming mahogany. She trailed her fingers over the satiny surface, glad to see that it had survived the move unscathed.
The dining room set had been her first purchase after she’d gotten her dream job. It meant a lot to her, although Ricky Bob was right—it was too big for this room. She placed her hand flat on the glossy waxed surface, the wood warm against her fingers. If she were smart, she’d sell this table and get something smaller. But she couldn’t give it up. She’d given up so much already. Too much.
A flash of red appeared at the corners of her eyes, and she gritted her teeth against it. It had been years since she’d had to fight her demons. Mama G’s love and calmness, along with the steady drumbeat of success, had done much to banish the red-hot anger that used to consume Grace. But Hannah’s death had brought a hint of Grace’s fury back, and she hated it.
Daisy ran down the stairs, her tennis shoes bouncing off each step. Grace left the table and went into the sitting room, happy to find her niece twirling at the bottom of the steps, her mood lighter than before.
From the divan, Mama G tapped her foot as if she could hear the invisible music. “Lord, child, you do like to dance.”
Encouraged, Daisy danced faster, looking just like her mother, blond and serene. But where Hannah could look right through you until you felt lonely and cold, Daisy’s gaze was personal and direct, even when she was mad at the world.
Panting from her exertions, Daisy plopped onto the floor beside Mama G. The little girl leaned her head back and, still breathing hard, reached up to touch the sunbeam that poured through one of the front windows, as if trying to catch the golden dust motes that spun in the light.
Grace smiled, caught in the unexpected peacefulness of the moment. Daisy was a warrior, this child of misfortune whose father had denied her and whose mother hadn’t been able to do more than hug her and leave, over and over again until they’d all been exhausted. But that had been Hannah—she’d disengaged from her pain until there’d been nothing left of her to give to her own child. Or anyone else.
Ricky Bob and Tommy thumped back and forth through the house, arguing with one another the entire time. They carried in side tables, an armoire, boxes of Daisy’s books, and finally a plump blue recliner that clashed horribly with the vibrant green chairs Mrs. Phelps had left behind. “Please put it here.” Grace pointed to an empty spot beside the fireplace. As soon as the recliner was in place, Grace patted the armrest. “Look, Mama G. Your favorite chair.”
Mama G didn’t need two invitations. “That divan is as lumpy as a stack of firewood.” She settled into the chair with a sigh of relief, her eyes twinkling as she smiled up at Grace. “You’d think with all the padding on my ass, I wouldn’t need such stuffed cushions, but lord, this feels good.”
Daisy, who’d brought Mama G’s knitting basket, giggled.
Even Grace had to laugh. “We all deserve comfortable chairs.”
Mama G smiled indulgently. But as Grace watched, the older woman’s smile slipped, and she looked around the room as if searching for a memory that had just skittered out of sight. “We are . . .” Her voice, which used to be so crisp and firm, started to quaver, much like her hands. “I used to know this place.”
Grace patted Mama G’s shoulder. “We’re in Dove Pond at Philomedra Phelps’s house. She just left. Remember?”
Mama G blinked. “Oh. Oh yes.” She surveyed the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I hope she’ll cook us some spaghetti. I never could make sauce the way she did, although mine’s pretty good.”
“Your sauce is better than good,” Daisy said. “It’s perfect.”
The loud rumble of a motorcycle outside caught Grace’s attention. She left Mama G and Daisy talking about the merits of spaghetti sauce and went to the front window.
Grace pushed aside the lace curtain. Sunlight lit the front yard, gleaming through the trees to sprawl in golden patches on the green grass. The rumble drew closer, and a red-and-silver streak flashed down the street. The bike slowed and then turned into the driveway next door. This must be Travis Parker.
Grace leaned forward so she could see him a little better. Broad-shouldered and as powerfully built as a cage fighter, the man wore a white T-shirt and jeans with effortless ease. He parked the bike next to his walkway, kicked the stand into place, and climbed off. He removed his helmet and long, dark hair spilled almost to his shoulders, in odd contrast to the harsh lines of his face. Oh great, of all the neighbors in the world, I get Khal Drogo.
He pulled his hand impatiently through his hair, hung his helmet on his bike, and then walked toward his house. He paused as he neared the door and turned to stare across his yard, as if looking for something. The sunlight hit his face and she caught sight of a thick red scar that ran up his neck to disappear under his five-o’clock shadow on one cheek.
I wonder what happened? A motorcycle wreck, no doubt.
He cupped his hands to his mouth. “Killer!” he yelled.
Killer? Alarmed, Grace looked in the direction he stared, waiting to see the hellhound worthy of such a name.
The man called again, more loudly this time. But nothing happened, and after a moment, he shrugged and went inside.
So that was her neighbor. And Killer, too. If that dog comes even close to Daisy, we’re going to have some words. Mrs. Phelps had said Travis Parker was the keep-to-himself type, and Grace could only hope the old woman was right. Judging from the deeply carved lines on his face, the khal didn’t look as if he was what one might call “good-natured.”
She was starting to turn away from the window when a blue pickup truck pulled into the drive that curled up to the Dove house. Intrigued, Grace pushed the curtain farther back and was surprised to see that the woman who climbed out of the truck wasn’t an ancient crone at all, but was Grace’s age or perhaps even younger. The woman had dark blond hair that was tied in a messy braid that flopped over her shoulder, and she wore a floaty, gauzy dress and sandals.
She reached into the back seat, pulled out a stack of books, and used her shoulder to shut the truck door. She’d just started up the walk toward her house when she stopped and looked down at the books and began scolding them as if they were alive.
Grace blinked. Good God. I’m surrounded by loonies. Biker Khal Drogo next door and hippie Hermione Granger in the house after that.
The woman patted the top book on the stack and started up the flower-lined walkway to her door. She’d just reached the steps when, with a sudden swivel, she looked directly at Grace. A delighted smile broke over her face, and she waved.
Startled, Grace jumped back and released the curtain, her face hot. As she turned, she found Mama G’s gaze locked on her.
“See something interesting?”
“No,” Grace lied.
“You should go and say hi.” When Grace shook her head, Mama G tsked. “Change never hurt nobody, child. You know that. It’s those who can’t or won’t change who lose.”
“I’m hungry.” Daisy put down the ball of yarn she’d been winding for Mama G and stood. “I know what I want for dinner.”
Relieved by the distraction and hoping to extend Daisy’s rare good mood, Grace said, “Let me guess.”
Daisy smiled, for the moment looking so much like her old self that Grace’s heart lifted. “Okay,” Daisy said. “Guess.”
“No!” Daisy shook her head and then spun in a circle while Mama G’s knitting needles settled into their familiar clicking. “Guess again.”
Grace pretended to think, relishing this moment of the not-angry Daisy. “Boiled eggs?”
“No, no, no!” Daisy spun a little faster. “Guess again!”
“Liver and onions?”
“No, no, no, no!” Daisy tilted to one side, too dizzy to stand as she plopped at Mama G’s feet, panting heavily. “Pizzzzzaaaaaa!”
Mama G looked up from her knitting. “Pizza?”
“You like pizza,” Daisy assured her.
Mama G’s smile disappeared, and she said sharply, “I know I like pizza. My momma used to make the best pies. In fact . . .” Mama G looked around the room. “She and my aunt Penelope would make pies in this very house every Sunday night. Philomedra and I would set the table and we’d have the neighbors over and there’d be wine and— Oh, it was so much fun!”
Grace’s heart lifted. Perhaps coming back to Mama G’s hometown would do her some good, after all. Here, far away from the tatters of their old life, maybe they could find a new one, a better one, one where the world wasn’t ripped in half by the black hole where Hannah used to be.
“Pizza, huh?” Grace threw up her hands as if conceding a victory to the others. “Fine. Pizza it is.” With a smile, she went to quiz the movers on the best place to order a delivery. After all the troubles she, Mama G, and Daisy had weathered, they deserved the best pizza Dove Pond had to offer.
It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
Oh my gosh this book is AMAZZZZINGGGG!!! Loveeee how all the chapters and pages grab you and take you right into the story. Loveee Sara the librarian and her whispering books and heroic Grace who comes to the rescue of the town of Dove Pond, North Carolina. Thank you to Bookishfirst and author Karen Hawkins for the advanced reading copy of this awesome read. Much much success to you both. For all the reading fanatics whether you read physical copies of books e-books or even listen to them I highly recommend this fantastic heartfelt read to you all. Also highly recommend this to everyone who has read the books Practical Magic by Alice Hoffman and Garden Spells by Sarah Addison Allen. Kudos!!!
I fell in love with Grace Wheeler, her niece, Daisy, and Mama Giano. Mama had been Foster mother to Grace and Grace loved her dearly. I wish and hope there will be more books so I can learn about Ava Dove and see if Sarah Dove can talk to Blake. Karen Hawkins has outdone herself on this book.
ABSOLUTELY 5 STARS*****!!!!!
The Book Charmer by Karen Hawkins will be the perfect Hallmark Movie. This book is a quick read with romance, the search for a home, and friends becoming family. Hawkins includes touches of magical realism that are written seamlessly into the story and do not detract from the main storylines. The novel follows the life of Grace who, along with her sister Hannah, moved through the foster system before finding a home with Mama G. We also meet Sarah, who is the 7th Dove daughter of her generation, meaning she will be the miracle her small-town needs. When these two come together years later, neither has lived the life they imagined. They will have to learn to rely on each other to overcome the obstacles, in love, work, and with families, that have been laid in their way. This book is above average for this genre and will have you cheering for all of the characters.
I didn't expect to enjoy this book as much as I did! The setting was reminiscent of Gilmore Girls - small, sleepy town with eccentric residents. The back story of the main characters was nicely developed. This was a perfect book to read at the end of summer.
This book was such a fun read! I adore books that are able to mix in a little magical realism and make is seem believable. If you love books from Sarah Addison Allen then you need to read this book. This story alternates view points and I loved all three of the main characters. I found that each one offered a unique view and had great depth. I loved the story and the town itself too. This was a really great read and I definitely recommend it!
This book reminded me of The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society in that it made me wish for small towns where everyone knows everyone, and cares for each other in a deep and meaningful way. I wish more communities were like this. While the book's title refers to a specific character, the story is not only about her, but another woman who is new to town and carries a lot of emotional baggage, while trying to support her niece and her foster mother who has been diagnosed with Alzheimer's. We read from three different characters' points of view in the book, Sarah, Grace, and Trav, and while Grace aggravated me the most with her stubbornness and refusal to accept help for so long, I also understood where she was coming from. It was part of the fun to see the town throw everything they had at her to get her interested enough to partake in events, and Trav's point of view was my favorite as he thawed towards the prickly woman. This book made me cry in joy and sorrow, but oh is it relevant. You never know what someone might be going through, or what happened in his or her life previously to cause them to be the way they are now. There is also a lightheartedness to the book as well, though, despite the characters' struggles, with the help of some magic that lets Sarah know what book everyone needs. I wish there was a little more at the end though; there were some loose threads I'd love to see tugged and written about. I don't know if there are any more books in the works set in the town of Dove Pond, but I would LOVE that! I need more Dove Pond antics and romance and friendships and books and tea!
The Book Charmer was my first experience reading Karen Hawkins. Honestly, I was a little nervous because all of her previous work looked like traditional Harlequin-style romances. And I’m a bit book snobbish about bodice rippers. Those nerves turned out to be unwarranted because The Book Charmer was absolutely delightful! Straight from go, I was enchanted by Karen Hawkins’ prologue. Getting a glimpse of Sarah Dove and Grace Wheeler as children sets the stage and the tone while allowing the reader to see how each character’s past might influence her present. The present brings us to the small fictional North Carolina community of Dove Pond where Sarah has grown up and where Grace, her foster mother (Mama G), and her niece are moving in just down the street. Grace’s life has taken a sudden turn due to her sister’s death and her foster mother’s declining health, and they’ve come to Dove Pond because its memories might be helpful for Mama G. Both the characters and the setting are written with love. You’ll enjoy getting to know these women and the small town in which they live. I would liken The Book Charmer to Jan Karon’s Mitford series with younger women and sprinkled with a touch of magical realism rather than faith. Like Mitford, the town and its quirky cast of characters is full of charm and humor. This is ultimately a novel about family, friendships, community, and love. Karen Hawkins succeeds in giving her book heart without being sappy, and infusing her story with magic without being kooky. To make another comparison, if you’re familiar with Hallmark Channel’s original film/TV series Good Witch, you’ll find yourself as pleasantly at ease in Dove Pond as in Middleton. The Book Charmer turned out to be the perfect summer read, comfy and cozy like your favorite old t-shirt. And getting to the end felt like having to say goodbye to new friends. Luckily, this is the first in a series so I’ll be able to visit Dove Pond and its inhabitants again! Verdict: 4.5 of 5 Hearts: The winsome characters and small-town setting make for a magical reading experience! *Disclosure of Material Connection: I was given access to an arc of the above book from the publisher via Netgalley in the hope that I would mention it on my blog. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255: “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”
Charming is a perfect description for The Book Charmer. This lovely novel tackles trust, pain, and love in the town of Dove Pond, NC. Grace Wheeler and her sister Hannah have been bounced from home to home. They’re about to land at the one last chance they have before the system will split them up and send Grace to a group home. Mrs. Giano, better known as Mama G, will take a look at them and decide if she’s willing to tackle the demons that rest inside Grace. All grown up, a bit later, Grace is now responsible for Mama G and Hannah’s daughter Daisy. Mama G is struggling with the early stages of Alzheimers, and Daisy needs a fresh start. Giving up her dreams of success in the financial industry, Grace moves the patched together family to Mama G’s birthplace of Dove Pond. Dove Pond offers a chance for Mama G to be in a place that feels safe, even if it doesn’t afford Grace the job or future she’d intended. Meanwhile, Dove Pond has its own set of issues. When Grace takes over the job of town clerk, she uncovers a mess that could take the town down. Working with a feckless mayor who thinks his primary job is fishing and glad-handing, and being the new girl in town, she’s about to take on a challenge any bigger than she’s ever had. Will Grace be able to handle the changes? And will she let anyone in to help her? Karen Hawkins has written such a beautiful novel of love. Grace and Daisy are both somewhat broken, and find themselves in a place of magic in Dove Pond. Neither wants to let anyone in, too many trust issues, but the magic of Dove Pond can’t help but work its way into their hearts. The author deals with the realities of Alzheimers and what it’s like to live with someone you love when their mind is slipping. Also, how the foster system can break and heal those broken by it. She has created a place that anyone would want to pull up stakes and move to. Not sure if Dove Pond will be a series (it does say book #1) but I truly would love to know more about the town and the residents. Dove Pond will be a place I want to visit again and again. The Book Charmer and it’s hometown have charmed me, as I’m sure it will charm others. This review will be posted at BookwormishMe.com close to publication date.
I received a complimentary copy of this book through Netgalley. Opinions expressed in this review are completely my own. This is a lighthearted, charming story of small town life. Grace Wheeler has moved her family to Dove Pond, hoping that her foster mother's childhood home will help with her Alzheimer's diagnosis. She keeps repeating that it's only for a year, but as she gets more involved with town life and its people, the more it feels like home. I was disappointed that the story made Sarah, the woman who can hear books, a secondary character. She was important to the story, but I wish she had been in it more. Maybe in later books, as I noticed this is book 1 of a series. I look forward to reading about some of the other characters in later books. Overall, this book was cozy and inviting, a great book to snuggle up with under a comfy blankie with a cup of tea.
There is warm-hearted magic in the small town of Dove Pond and it is all because of the Dove family. The current custodian of the town is librarian Sarah Dove, who lets books talk to her, tell her who needs them and what she should do, cryptically, of course. Who know what will happen when Sarah follows their orders, but it is always for the good of the town and especially the people who live there. Lately the books have talked about a stranger coming to town, Grace Wheeler, who has her hands full with her orphaned niece and elderly mother who suffers from worsening dementia. For Grace, Dove Pond is just a temporary stopover, a place to re-group and get her bearings, but the books say otherwise…and Sarah knows the books are never wrong. THE BOOK CHARMER by Karen Hawkins is a delightfully charming and quirky tale of finding inner peace, a place to grow roots and learning to stop and smell the roses. Fun, heartwarming, heartbreaking and sweetly romantic, this read will fit into your beach bag perfectly as the unusual citizens of Dove Pond worm their way into Grace’s heart, as well as any reader who wants a little sunshine in their lives! I received a complimentary ARC edition from Gallery Books!
The Book Charmer by Karen Hawkins is that book that reminds every childhood reader of the magic of books. Summers spent with imaginary friends. I remember books talking to me; okay they still do, but not the way they talk to Sarah Dove. From the first sigh of remembrance in the first chapter I was hooked. Hawkins leaves some decidedly loose ends, so I hope that we get to return to Dove Pond soon. This was the perfect summer read, lazy and heart-warming. I voluntarily reviewed an ARC of this novel.
This is a sweet yet satisfying book for everyone that loves a happy ending for lost but good-hearted souls. In this instance we have a set-up for a series, with a small North Carolina town that needs rescuing along with a few of its citizens who have come upon hard times. As expected from this type of cozy tale, a pinch of magic, help from unexpected places and the assistance of their fellow citizens will all come into play before the story ends. For the reader, a few tears will be shed and a few pearls of wisdom read; the author Karen Hawkins provides well on all levels. I received my copy from the publisher on NetGalley.
This was a very charming story and a bit of a year jerker as well. I hope to see more about the people of Dove Pond.
Karen Hawkins has crafted a delightful book. The Book Charmer is well-written and so much fun to read. Its about Dove Pond, a small town populated with a crew of characters that are kind, funny, and very nosy. The Dove family has produced 7 girls in each generation since founding the town. The girls in this generation, especially the seventh daughter,Sarah, have special talents. Sarah is the titular Book Charmer and local librarian. The books actually speak to her and one in particular, a diary of the founder of Dove Pond, tells her that Grace will save the town from falling to ruin. Sarah has no idea who Grace is or what she's supposed to do, that is until a new family moves in to Dove Pond. Grace is a tough, organized financial adviser. She doesn't let people close except Mama G, her foster mother who has Alzheimer's, and her niece, 8 year old Daisy. The little family moves to Dove Pond, where Mama G was raised, hoping the familiar place will slow her decline. Add to their troubles is the death of Grace's sister and Daisy's mother, Hannah, from overdose. Three sad, angry people who love each other dearly and are trying to pick up the pieces of their lives. Travis lives between Sarah and Grace. He recently lost his father to dementia and is still suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder so barely sleeps and is usually on the grumpy side. Trav and Sarah have been friends since pre-school so she knows what a great guy he is. He slowly comes back to himself as Daisy and Mama G work their way into his heart, as does Grace, much to her discomfit. Dove Pond works its magic on these people and their problems as does Sarah and her books. There was a lot of sorrow to be overcome, but Hawkins handles everything with loving care and sensitivity and a great sense of humor. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this book - it was like taking a vacation from my own life and hanging out with an excellent group of friends. Readers of Alice Hoffman and Sarah Addison Allen will love the Book Charmer as will anyone who reads it. The Book Charmer is also suitable for young adults as well. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did!
Oh, my friends, how I loved The Book Charmer! It has a dash of magic, mixed in with small town charm and a severe love of books. If you're a fan of Sarah Addison Allen books (and I very much am), then you will ADORE this book like I did. Dove Pond is special. The Dove family has 7 daughters, and the seventh daughter has a bit of magic and that magic helps keep Dove Pond going. Sarah Dove is the seventh daughter of this generation of Doves, and her ability is that books speak to her. She's the town librarian and has the uncanny ability to pair books with people, even if they don't particularly think they need the book she chooses for them (they always do need it eventually). But even though the book is about Dove Pond, Sarah isn't really our main character, Grace is. Grace is rough around the edges, and she has every reason to be. She had a tough childhood, and even though she thought she had her life figured out as an adult, life throws her a curveball. I don't want to give too much more away about Grace's character or backstory, because it definitely could be a spoiler. This book made me laugh, it made me cry (a lot more times than I'd care to admit) and I just wanted to hug it when I was done reading it. I loved all the quirky characters and how they danced around one another in their lives trying to figure out how to work together. The only thing I really wished was that the romance wasn't so behind the scenes. We know it happens, but I wanted a front row seat to the show. And I don't mean I need a graphic detailing, I just wanted MORE details of any kind. The Book Charmer is a first in what I'm sure will be a series that I will devour. I received this book for free via Netgalley in exchange for an honest review.
The Book Charmer is a charming read. Sarah is the book whisperer in the town of Dove Pond. A woman named Grace comes to town. Grace has many personal problems to deal with, and she's unaware that she will play an important part in the town, but Sarah knows. With a little magic and a little luck, things might turn out fine for both women. Or not? It's a delightful touching story that will cause laughter and tears. I recommend. Thanks to NetGalley for an arc in exchange for an honest review.
The Book Charmer is my first Karen Hawkins novel, and I wasn't quite sure what to expect when I requested this book on NetGalley. When I first came across this book, it sounded right up my alley. I'm a book lover (I know, shocking), and I love reading books that feature a book lover. I generally can relate to the characters more, and I LOVE when I can relate to a character. The characters in The Book Charmer were so much fun. I enjoyed getting to know their nuances and quirks, and I felt like Dove Pond was remarkably similar to another favorite town that I grew up with, Stars Hollow. The town itself had a beautiful feel to it, and the townspeople just enhanced the story. Each character brought a fun aspect to the novel, and I loved seeing all of the interactions. I especially loved the romance aspect of this book. I will admit, the magic realism of the book at times felt a little off. It was almost repetitive at times, and that became a bit dull for me. Even though the magic realism was a bit too repetitive, I found that I loved how realistic Karen Hawkins was able to write real-world issues. This book dealt with some serious and hard issues such as PTSD & Alzheimers. I do feel that Karen Hawkins did an excellent job of showing the problems that PTSD & Alzheimers can bring up. Along with that, I liked seeing the characters dealing with those occurrences as well. The one big problem I had with this book was how slow it felt. There were only a few instances where I was on the edge of my seat. The Book Charmer seemed to mosy around a bit. I found myself bored at some instances, but by the 50% mark, the pace quickened. I would have loved to feel more drawn in. All in all, the characters make this book. I would recommend this book to anyone who loved Gilmore Girls and Matilda. I definitely will look into the next book in the series. **I received an ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review**
I’m going to be completely clear here – if you are a book lover, a fan of reading and know that books can transport and transform – You MUST read this book! Gloriously magical, full of heart, challenges, grief and transformation, the story will take you places from laughter to tears, reinforcing your hope even as struggles with loss and leaving are present. Hawkins has infused the story with struggles: from PTSD to Alzheimer’s, foster care, rejection and acceptance and come up with a tale that will have you laughing and crying as you are surrounded by the story and its charm. Grace and her sister Hannah were bouncing from home to home in the foster system until they met Mama G. Where Grace was struggling with her anger and determination to ‘make a place’ for Hannah, Hannah was always ‘on the margins’ and never quite engaged. But Mama G gave them a place that was secure and solid, and showed them love when it was hard to come by. In fact, she was the first “home” the girls ever had. But knowing that life is ever-changing, Grace worked hard to make something of herself, getting a good job and popping back to see her sister and Mama G when she could. Until the worst happened, and Hannah overdosed, leaving her eight year old daughter Daisy with Mama G, and turning their world upside down. And things are only getting worse: Mama G’s health is failing, and Daisy is constantly acting out – being an “auntie” is far easier than being the mother-figure, and with dementia showing it’s ugly head, Grace’s world is in tumult. One of the suggestions from the doctors was to move Mama G into a place that was familiar, so Grace takes the position as Town Clerk in Dove Pond, a new place, a rented house and plenty of challenges to come. Never the most open or friendly, Grace isn’t adapting well to the ‘everyone knows your name” vibe in Dove Pond, and the fact that the Dove sisters, all with “something special” living 2 doors away doesn’t help. Nor does the motorcycle riding tattooed guy that she calls “Khal Drogo” with the associated scowl, and Daisy’s fascination with him doesn’t help. Enter Sarah Dove, local librarian and “Book Charmer”, for as long as she can remember, books have spoken to her – allowing her to find the ’perfect’ book for everyone she encounters, and the “history” from the first Dove ancestor is telling her that Grace will be the one to save the town. So Sarah sets out on a friendship crusade, she is going to make Grace like her, and enlist the help of her best friend and neighbor to them both, Travis. After dealing with the burns received in Afghanistan, and then nursing his father through his dementia, Travis is determined to let no one in. But, with a few wandering nights from Mama G, who remembers babysitting his father and is obviously in need of help – he shows both Grace and Mama G the kindness and care they never expected. Especially since Grace seems to be having difficulty with managing her niece and her mother-figure, and accepting help and guidance from the community. It is said that trauma in children stops their emotional growth – and that was obvious for Grace – as she grows and comes to learn that everyone will help her in Dove Point, just because it’s what they do, and what she needs. I laughed, I cried, and I wanted to see everything work out for everyone even as my heart broke for Mama G and her fear, the kindness of neighbors and the magic that Sarah Dove and her sisters brought to the story. This book
I'm always intrigued by anything with "book" or "library" in the title, and the blurb fed that sense of intrigue so I requested this one as soon as I saw it. It starts out strong, with great characters and some interesting magical realism elements that, while familiar, still felt engaging and entertaining. But the book rather quickly became a little too sweet and trite for my tastes, and felt like it veered a little too far into Lifetime movie-of-the-week territory for my taste. It was cute, with fun world-building and several enjoyable characters, but a little more convenient and heartstring-tugging than I hoped - or expected, based on the beginning. Still, it's a quick, sweet tale about home and family and finding your way /place with both, so if that's your cup of (sweetened) tea, give it a try. ☕ Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for my review copy.
While the cover may lead readers to think this is a cute 'fluffy' read, I was (pleasantly) surprised to discover this novel includes several substantial topics including PTSD, family illness and death, caregiver stress, and a small town's financial crisis. I enjoyed the characters and hope it's the first installment in a duology or series. This was my first Karen Hawkins title, and I'm eager to see what she writes next. This appears to be a departure from her other novels and I wonder what caused this change in direction. I appreciated the magical realism elements, especially those involving books, but I'm not sure the novel's title really fits the story. Fans of Midnight at the Blackbird Cafe by Heather Webber or the Secret, Book & Scone Society series by Ellery Adams will enjoy The Book Charmer.
The Book Charmer is about the small town of Dove Pond and it's close knit community. It's a everyone knows everyone and everything kind of place. Sarah Dove comes from a long line of Dove's who founded the town. Their family is said to bring good luck and each member has a bit of something extraordinary. Sarah, the town librarian, hears books talk. They tell her what books a person needs and she makes sure they receive them. A librarian who can hear books talk is what drew me to The Book Charmer. I am not wholly decided on if the story is reflected in the title since I find myself wanting more of the talking books in the narrative. Dove Pond is in financial trouble but it is not Sarah who is slated to save it. However, she knows who will. Grace Wheeler is an uprooted city girl who moves into the town temporarily with her foster mother and niece. She becomes an unwilling participant in the town's survival efforts. Due to the story being told from three perspectives you don't get much of the books talking aspect. That aside it was a cute quick read. I loved Dove Pond even though some of its residents are mighty pushy! I am looking at you Sarah! Thank you Netgalley and Gallery Books for an e-arc of this title in exchange for an honest review.
I received an ARC from NetGalley and I am voluntarily leaving this review. Cleverly written tale about a girl who can hear books talk! Wonderfully written prose with fun, interesting characters that keep you turning the pages to "The End". Enjoy!
Sarah Dove lives in the small town of Dove Pond, just like her family has for generations. And like many of those other women in her ancestry, Sarah has a gift, a special power. In Sarah's case the power is the ability to hear books speak to her and tell her who needs to read them. Once she becomes the town librarian, that ability really comes in handy. Just imagine - you're emptying the book return bin and the books are telling you which patron you need to give them to next. Talk about readers' advisory services! Sarah may have met an immovable object when it comes to the newest resident in Dove Pond. Grace Wheeler moves to the quiet town in an effort to help her adoptive mother and her newly orphaned niece. Mama G grew up in Dove Pond and Grace hopes the move will help them all heal in various ways, but she does not have time for the odd librarian who seems to have conversations with stacks of books, or the motorcycle-riding neighbor next door with his long hair and gruff manner. Can the charms of the books, the neighbors, and the town itself work their magic on Grace and her family? This is a book perfect for readers who enjoy stories revolving around relationships and small town settings, but also for those who already know the power of the right book at the right time and want to see that power in action (in the hands of the book charmer). Recommended for fans of The Readers of Broken Wheel Recommend or The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry..
"The Book Charmer" is a delightful read in the vein of Sarah Addison Allen's "Garden Spells" - sisters who have special--dare I say, magical--gifts they use to help others. Each character was a delight, the story was heartwarming without being saccharine, and I enjoyed the entire book. I would recommend this novel for those who enjoy magical realism, small towns, quirky but fun characters, and bittersweet moments that tug on heartstrings.