Book : The Winemakers Wife - Harmel, Kristin _v

Descripción

- ANTES DE COMPRAR PREGUNTE FECHA DE ENTREGA.
- ENVIAMOS POR MERCADOENVIOS
- PUEDE RETIRAR POR AHORA SOLO POR QUILMES, MICROCENTRO ESTA CERRADO, POR ESO...
- EN CABA (CAPITAL FEDERAL) ENVIAMOS SIN CARGO ESTE PRODUCTO.
- FORMA DE PAGO : MERCADOPAGO
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Descripción provista por la editorial :

“Love and betrayal, forgiveness and redemption combine in a heady tale of the ever present past” (Pam Jenoff, New York Times bestselling author) set amid the champagne vineyards of northern France during the darkest days of World War II. Perfect for fans of Kristin Hannah’s The Nightingale and Julia Kelly’s The Light Over London.Champagne, 1940: Ines has just married Michel, the owner of storied champagne house Maison Chauveau, when the Germans invade. As the danger mounts, Michel turns his back on his marriage to begin hiding munitions for the Resistance. Ines fears they’ll be exposed, but for Celine, half-Jewish wife of Chauveau’s chef de cave, the risk is even greater-rumors abound of Jews being shipped east to an unspeakable fate. When Celine recklessly follows her heart in a desperate bid for happiness, and Ines makes a dangerous mistake with a Nazi collaborator, they risk the lives of those they love-and the champagne house that ties them together. New York, 2019: Liv Kent has just lost everything when her eccentric French grandmother shows up unannounced, insisting on a trip to France. But the older woman has an ulterior motive-and a tragic, decades-old story to share. When past and present finally collide, Liv finds herself on a road to salvation that leads right to the caves of the Maison Chauveau. A spellbinding and exceptional tale of love, courage, and betrayal, “once you start reading this moving novel, you will not be able to put it down until you reach the last page” (Armando Lucas Correa, author of The German Girl). About the Author Kristin Harmel is the New York Times bestselling author of over a dozen novels including The Forest of Vanishing Stars, The Book of Lost Names, The Room on Rue Amelie, and The Sweetness of Forgetting. She is published in thirty languages and is the cofounder and cohost of the popular web series, Friends and Fiction. She lives in Orlando, Florida. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. Chapter One: May 1940 one MAY 1940 INÈS The road snaked over the lush vineyards of Champagne as Ines Chauveau sped southwest out of Reims, clouds of dust ballooning in the wake of her glossy black Citroen, wind whipping ferociously through her chestnut hair. It was May, and already the vines were awakening, their buds like tiny fists reaching for the sun. In weeks they would flower, and by September, their grapes-pale green Chardonnay, inky Pinot Meunier, blueberry-hued Pinot Noir-would be plump and bursting for the harvest. But would Ines still be here? Would any of them? A shiver ran through her as she braked to hug a curve, the engine growling in protest as she turned down the road that led home. Michel would tell her she was driving too quickly, too recklessly. But then, he was cautious about everything. In June, it would be a year since they’d married, and she couldn’t remember a day during that time that he hadn’t gently chided her about something. I’m simply looking out for you, Ines, he always said. That’s what a husband is supposed to do. Lately, nearly all his warnings had been about the Germans, who’d been lurking just on the other side of the impenetrable Maginot Line, the fortified border that protected France from the chaos besetting the rest of Europe. Those of us who were here for the Great War know to take them seriously, he said at least once a day, as if he hadn’t been just four years old when the final battle was waged. Of course Ines, younger than Michel by six years, hadn’t yet been born when the Germans finally withdrew from the Marne in 1918, after nearly obliterating the central city of Reims. But her father had told enough tales about the war-usually while drunk on brandy and pounding his fist against the table-that she knew to be wary. You can never trust the Huns! She could hear her father’s deep, gravelly voice in her ear now, though he’d been dead for years. They might play the role of France’s friend, but only
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