by Amy Harmon
★★★★★
Synopsis:
Blue Echohawk doesn't know who she is. She doesn't know her real name or when she was born. Abandoned at two and raised by a drifter, she didn't attend school until she was ten years old. At nineteen, when most kids her age are attending college or moving on with life, she is just a senior in high school. With no mother, no father, no faith, and no future, Blue Echohawk is a difficult student, to say the least. Tough, hard and overtly sexy, she is the complete opposite of the young British teacher who decides he is up for the challenge, and takes the troublemaker under his wing.
This is the story of a nobody who becomes somebody. It is the story of an unlikely friendship, where hope fosters healing and redemption becomes love. But falling in love can be hard when you don't know who you are. Falling in love with someone who knows exactly who they are and exactly why they can't love you back might be impossible.
This is the story of a nobody who becomes somebody. It is the story of an unlikely friendship, where hope fosters healing and redemption becomes love. But falling in love can be hard when you don't know who you are. Falling in love with someone who knows exactly who they are and exactly why they can't love you back might be impossible.
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Amy Harmon seriously blows me away. The first book of Amy's that I read was Running Barefoot and I loved it. I became a bit obsessed with it actually, so when Amy asked me if I wanted to review an ARC of A DIFFERENT BLUE, of course I jumped on the chance. And I'm so, so happy that I had the opportunity to read this. It's such a beautiful story. And just like Running Barefoot, Amy's writing in A Different Blue is incredible. This book pulled my heart strings in a million different directions and here I am, a few weeks after reading it, and I'm still in love with these characters.
I won't go into too much detail about the plot, as to not spoil anything for you. The synopsis does a really good job of letting you know what this story is about, but there are a few little twists and turns, especially at the end. There is so much that I loved about the main character, Blue. She's smart, she's funny, and she really has her head on straight, despite everything that she has gone through- and continues to go through. There is one particularly difficult decision that she has to make and, although the entire thing broke my heart, it was written so beautifully and made me respect Blue that much more for how selfless she was.
The "unlikely friendship" referred to is that of Blue and her teacher, Wilson, who takes Blue under his wing and really helps her come into her own. Quite a big deal for someone who is struggling with truly not knowing who they are. This isn't your typical "girl falls for her teacher" romance, not at all. Although you could sometimes cut the sexual tension with a knife, their relationship was about so much more. Underneath it all, it was their unconditional friendship and emotional connection that really made an impact on me. I fell in love with Wilson right along with Blue. He was always there for her, taking care of her, supporting her. And as much as Wilson taught her, in and out of the classroom, he also learns a thing or two from Blue. She teaches him about love and about sacrifice, and that sometimes things aren't always as black and white as they seem.
Let me say again how much I love Amy's writing. A few of the scenes in this book were truly some of the most beautiful that I have ever read. The stories and the characters she writes somehow crawl deep inside me and wreak havoc on my poor little heart. These characters in particular were so well developed and I cried every tear, laughed every laugh, felt every heartache right along with them.
On a lighter note, let me just gush about the fact that Wilson is British (yes, please!) and also shares a name with another literary Brit that I'm oh so fond of-- Mr. Darcy! Anyone who knows me knows how obsessed I am with anything Jane Austen and Pride and Prejudice related, and Amy is a girl after my own heart because I just ate up all of the P & P references in this book! Honestly, everything that Amy writes is pure gold in my eyes and I'm sure I will continue to read and love everything that she puts out. And I suggest you do the same!
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And here is an EXCLUSIVE excerpt/teaser from A Different Blue! Enjoy! :)
“Tell me what you see when you look at this sculpture,” Wilson asked
after a while, his eyes roving down the sensual lines of the stained
mahogany. His hand traced the contours
reverently.
I'd whittled away the
heaviness from the branches, creating hollows and sinews and shaping the
suggestion of lovers wrapped around each other while still maintaining the
natural innocence and simplicity of the merging branches. The branches were
Mountain Mahogany, the wood a natural reddish brown. I'd rubbed several applications of black
stain into one branch, and it gleamed like a black jungle cat, the golden red
tones melding with the dark stain so the black looked like it was silhouetted
in sunlight. I applied no stain to the
other branch. I had simply buffed and glossed the golden red wood until it was
glowing like amber. The effect was that
the two limbs in the sculpture appeared to be different kinds of wood, branches
from two different trees. The result was a statement all its own.
I looked away. I felt hot and
angry and my chest was tight with a feeling Wilson always seemed to stir in me.
“I'd rather not.”
“Why?” Wilson sounded genuinely confused
by my refusal, since I was usually eager to discuss my carvings with him.
“Why do you want my explanation? What do you see when you look at
them?” I said crossly. Wilson withdrew
his hand from the sculpture and grabbed my braid where it hung over my
shoulder. He tugged it gently, wrapping
it around his hand as he did.
“What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong. I'm preoccupied,” I protested. “And my art is not about what I see. It's about what I feel. And right now I don't really want to discuss
what I feel.” I tried to pull my hair
free from his hand, but he wound it tighter, pulling me toward him.
“I see limbs, and love, and lust,” Wilson
stated flatly. I stopped resisting, and
my eyes rose to his. Wilson's eyes were
wide and frank but his jaw was clenched as if he knew he was crossing that
invisible line he'd drawn for himself.
“I'm not surprised you see those
things,” I said softly.
“Why?” His eyes were intense, and I was suddenly furious. I was in love with Wilson, no doubt about it, but I would not be toyed with, and I sure as hell wasn't going to play kissy face ten minutes after Pamela left.
“Why?” His eyes were intense, and I was suddenly furious. I was in love with Wilson, no doubt about it, but I would not be toyed with, and I sure as hell wasn't going to play kissy face ten minutes after Pamela left.
“You've just spent the evening with
Pamela.” I reminded him sweetly. “She is
a beautiful woman.”
Wilson's eyes flashed, and he dropped my
braid, turning back toward the sculpture.
I could tell he was mentally counting to ten. If I made him angry, it was his own fault. What did he think I was going to do, wrap
myself around him after he'd ignored me off and on for months? I wasn't that girl. But maybe he thought I
was. I took several deep breaths and
ignored the tension that simmered between us.
It was thick enough to cut with a knife and serve with a big dollop of
denial. He took several steps, his hands
fisted in his hair, putting some distance between us.
I stood my ground, waiting for him to
make the next move. I had no idea what
he was doing here. And he didn't seem to
know either. When he looked at me again
his mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes held a note of pleading, as if
he needed to convince me of something.
“You said your art is about what you
feel, not what you see. I told you what
I see, now you tell me what you feel,” he demanded.
“What are we talking about
Wilson?” I shot back. I walked toward
him, hands shoved in my pockets. “Are we
talking about the sculpture?” He watched
me as I approached, but I didn't stop until our toes were almost touching.
“If we're talking about the sculpture,
fine. I see desire and belonging and love
without space.” I said the words like I
was a guide at an art museum, putting emphasis on the word space. “What do I feel? Well, that's easy. I've been at work all day. I'm tired,
Wilson. And I'm hungry. And I don't like Pamela. There.
That's what I feel. How about
you?”
Wilson looked at me like he wanted to
shake me until my teeth rattled. Then he
just shook his head and walked to the door.
“I'm sorry I asked, Blue,” he sighed.
He sounded weary and resigned, like one of those TV dads, just trying to
tolerate his teen-aged daughter. “Goodnight, Blue.”
I was too confused and befuddled to even
respond. He walked out of my apartment
without another word.
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About the Author:
Connect with Amy:
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________________________________________________________________________
About the Author:
Connect with Amy:
GOODREADS
WEBSITE
Reviewed by Brittany
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