What do you think?
Rate this book


402 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 1, 2008
With a strong, warm voice that brings the South to life, "New York Times" bestselling author Mary Alice Monroe writes richly textured stories that intimately portray the complex and emotional relationships we share with families, friends, and the natural world.The tale contains all the elements to be a true southern charm. A wealth of interesting characters, cultural treasures and historical tidbits, but sadly combined with a overwhelmingly dollop of chick lit, brings forward another entertaining plot that is as much a love story as it is a suspense mystery. The river is presented as one of the main characters in the story.
More from the blurb:That is the basic plot.
Recovering from breast cancer and reeling from her husband's infidelity, Mia Landan flees her Charleston home to heal in the mountains near Asheville, North Carolina. She seeks refuge in a neglected fishing cabin belonging to her fly-fishing instructor, Belle Carson.
She’d come to this sanctuary in the woods in the spring when her tears flowed like the rain. It was a time for renewal, and she dug deep and carefully planted seeds that had taken root in the long days and nights of summer to flourish and mature.Between the dishonorable past and the honorable future, lies a river, where fly fishing becomes the healer of three women: Kate, Belle and Mia. There was a mystery to be solved and a town's dignity to be restored.
“You see before you representatives of some of this town’s oldest and proudest families. Nada Turner is the editor and publisher of our newspaper. We speak for the town when we say that we demand an answer to this scandal that has clouded our city, spawned malicious gossip, and smeared the reputation of the Watkins family for two generations."There are two parallel stories gracing the tale:
I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. - Henry David Thoreau