Fragments of Ash is part of the ~a modern fairytale~ collection: contemporary, standalone romances inspired by beloved fairy tales.
The Vixen and the Vet (Beauty & the Beast) - available now
Never Let You Go (Hansel & Gretel) - available now
Ginger's Heart (Little Red Riding Hood) - available now
Dark Sexy Knight (Camelot) - available now
Don't Speak (The Little Mermaid) - available now
Sheer Heaven (Rapunzel) - available now
Fragments of Ash (Cinderella) – available now
Swan Song (The Ugly Duckling) – coming soon
Purchase a Copy
GOODREADS LINK: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36173885-fragments-of-ash
Visit the Fragments of Ash Website: https://bit.ly/2uVJnvD
Read my Book Review
Release Date: October 1, 2018
Genre: Modern Fairytale (Romance)
Actual Rating: 4.5 stars
Katy Regnery writes some of the best fairytale retellings that I have ever had the pleasure of reading. So when I was offered up the chance to read an advanced copy of Fragments of Ash I was very excited! So excited in fact that I jumped right into the story and didn't put it down until I was finished. This is a beautiful and emotional retelling of Cinderella one that wreaks havoc on the heart and slowly puts the pieces back together again. I had so much hope going through the story in terms of how this beautifully broken character would find the happiness she is deserving of, but there were moments where I just didn't think it was possible. This book gave me all the feels. Happiness, sadness, elation, and more. I love the darkness of the story and the light at the end of the tunnel. I love how the author was able to shatter my soul and put it back to its intended glory. And most of all? I love how everything wrapped up in the end. I was rooting for these characters who became people to me and while it was rough getting through, it was worth it in the end.
If you like darker fairytales, ones that will penetrate your heart, then this is the book for you. Each book in the series is a complete standalone and they are all retellings of one fairytale or another. This is one of my favorites from the series!
Read an Excerpt
My eyes skitter to the barn, where I can hear voices raised in increasing anger. Suddenly a man comes stalking out of the door, wearing a T-shirt, jeans, and black leather gloves that cover his forearms. He takes them off and tucks them under his arm as he approaches me.
“Are you kidding me, Jock?” he asks over his shoulder, practically spitting the words. “Goddamnit.”
Jock calls to the man from the barn door, and that’s when I see a reddish-brown hound escape from behind Jock, rushing across the driveway toward me.
I feel my face split into a grin. I love dogs. With the exception of Mosier’s attack animals, I have always loved dogs, but Tig never let me have one. There’s a dog here? Oh, God, please let this work out. Please let me rest here a while.
I squat down, holding out my hand to the animal as he approaches. He sniffs my hands before letting me pet him behind pendulous, curtainlike, velvet-soft ears. “Hello, baby. You’re so beautiful, you sweet, sweet girl.”
“He’s male,” spits a voice over my head.
I look up, rising slowly, unable to look away from the man yelling at me.
Bright green and heavily lashed, they widen in surprise, staring into mine for a long and life-changing moment before they narrow with anger, sliding away from me and back to Jock.
I don’t hear anything as his voice lowers to a point of fury, likely telling Jock all the reasons I am unwanted here. Usually it would sting a little to watch someone reject me summarily on first meeting, but I am so mesmerized by his face, by his body, by his rugged and innate beauty, I can barely breathe, let alone force my ears to function in any sort of meaningful way.
He is tall. Taller than me, six two or six three, with a clearly defined, muscled body under a gray T-shirt and beat-up jeans slung low on his hips. He wears boots that, in the sunlight, appear to be flecked with a million pieces of diamond dust—they twinkle every time he moves them. With his hands on his hips, the cords of sinew in his forearms pop just enough to create a map of trails that lead to his wrists and hands. The backs of his hands, like his boots, are dusted with diamonds, and when he raises one to reinforce one of the many reasons I absolutely may not stay here, it catches the sunlight and sparkles.
As I stare at his hand, I realize it’s quiet--really quiet—and the silence startles me back to reality.
I look at Gus, who darts a quick and disappointed glance at Julian.
I slide my eyes—slowly, bracing myself for impact all the while—to Julian, watching him flinch, his jaw tight and his pink lips pursed as he regards me.
“I’m not trying to offend you,” he huffs.
“I’m . . . not offended,” I answer, my voice lower than usual. I’m being honest. I haven’t heard a single word he’s said.
“Of course she’s fucking offended,” says Jock, the expletive almost comical when delivered in his British accent.
But Gus knows better, and the expression on his face proves it. He knows that I am accustomed to being rejected and it doesn’t bother me in the way it would shock and distress another woman.
“She has nowhere else to go,” he says quietly.
“And this is my land,” Jock adds with quiet steel, his gentility back in check.
“So you’re going to force me to have this . . . this . . . this girl stay here.”
But this does offend me, in fact, because I’ve been waiting to be a woman for a long time, and at eighteen, I’m allowed to wear the title.
“I’m an adult,” I hear myself say.
“Barely,” he shoots back, his eyes changing color to a dark and angry evergreen.
“I’ll stay out of your way,” I assure him. “I’m good at that.”
“Fuck this,” mutters Julian, running a hand through his hair and looking pissed. “Fine! But I stay rent free as long as she’s here.”
“Done,” says Jock, holding out his hand to shake on it.
Julian raises his sparkling hand and shakes with his landlord before putting his gloves back on and leveling an angry gaze at me. “Stay the fuc—” He pauses, his jaw ticking as he struggles for self-control. Finally he manages to grind out: “Stay out of my way.”
“No prob—” I start to say, but he turns on his heel and stalks back to the barn, disappearing into its inky depths. The dog stares up at me for a moment, his hound eyes mournful, as though wishing he could apologize for his owner’s rough behavior. After a beat, he turns forlornly and lumbers after his master.
“That went well,” says Gus.
“Moody bastard,” mutters Jock.
About the Author
writing room looks out at the woods, and her husband, two young children, two dogs, and one Blue Tonkinese kitten create just enough cheerful chaos to remind her that the very best love stories begin at home.
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