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With Love from London: A Novel
With Love from London: A Novel

With Love from London: A Novel

Product ID : 47625022


Galleon Product ID 47625022
Shipping Weight 0.62 lbs
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Manufacturer Ballantine Books
Shipping Dimension 8.07 x 5.16 x 1.46 inches
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About With Love From London: A Novel

Product Description When a woman inherits her estranged mother’s bookstore in London’s Primrose Hill, she finds herself thrust into the pages of a new story—hers—filled with long-held family secrets, the possibility of new love, and, perhaps, the single greatest challenge of her life.When Valentina Baker was only eleven years old, her mother, Eloise, unexpectedly fled to her native London, leaving Val and her father on their own in California. Now a librarian in her thirties, fresh out of a failed marriage and still at odds with her mother’s abandonment, Val feels disenchanted with her life.In a bittersweet twist of fate, she receives word that Eloise has died, leaving Val the deed to her mother’s Primrose Hill apartment and the Book Garden, the storied bookshop she opened almost two decades prior. Though the news is devastating, Val jumps at the chance for a new beginning and jets across the Atlantic, hoping to learn who her mother truly was while mourning the relationship they never had.As Val begins to piece together Eloise’s life in the U.K., she finds herself falling in love with the pastel-colored third-floor flat and the cozy, treasure-filled bookshop, soon realizing that her mother’s life was much more complicated than she ever imagined. When Val stumbles across a series of intriguing notes left in a beloved old novel, she sets out to locate the book’s mysterious former owner, though her efforts are challenged from the start, as is the Book Garden’s future. In order to save the store from financial ruin and preserve her mother’s legacy, she must rally its eccentric staff and journey deep into her mother’s secrets. With Love from London is a story about healing and loss, revealing the emotional, relatable truths about love, family, and forgiveness. Review “A cozy bit of escapism that will leave many readers dreaming of true love and the bookstores they might one day open.”—Kirkus Reviews“Jio (All the Flowers in Paris) unfurls an extraordinary and heartfelt tale that will stay with readers long after the final page is turned. . . . Her masterful plotting will keep readers guessing until the end. This is sure to tug on readers’ heartstrings.”—Publishers Weekly (starred review) About the Author Sarah Jio is the #1 international, New York Times, and USA Today bestselling author of eleven novels. She is the host of the Mod About You podcast and also a longtime journalist who has contributed to Glamour, The New York Times, Redbook, Real Simple, O: The Oprah Magazine, Bon Appétit, Marie Claire, Self, and many other outlets, including NPR's Morning Edition. Jio's books have been published in more than twenty-five countries. She lives in Seattle with her husband, three young boys, three stepchildren, and two puppies. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter 1ValentinaLondon, EnglandNovember 3, 2013“There are far better things ahead than any we leave behind,” says the stranger sitting next to me on the airplane—a sixtysomething woman with feathered bangs and a hair tie clinging so tightly to her left wrist that I’ve spent most of the flight worried it might turn into a medical emergency.In my years of assorted travel, I’ve had a long history of questionable airplane seatmates: the ninety-year-old man who touched my leg 3,781 times, then lapsed into a flatulence-fueled nap; the crying baby of all crying babies; the woman who drank too many mini bottles of rum and passed out on my shoulder, drooling.However, on this particular flight, it seems I’ve been graced by the “Sentimental Orator.” We’d barely cleared the runway, and Chatty in seat 26B had already quoted Shakespeare, Marilyn Monroe, and, if I remember correctly, Muhammad Ali.My tired, blank stare obviously troubles her, because the corners of her mouth plummet into a disappointed frown. “You poor child,” she says, shaking her head. “You don’t know C. S. Lewis? A shame.”“Yes,” I say, closing my eyes as I press my head