Maggie Stiefvater * The Wolves Of Mercy Falls Trilogy

I picked up these three gorgeous books at a sale at The Works (paid £5 for something that made my life a lot nicer, filled my heart with love and light and made me forget the horrors of Twilight). The book covers are amazing but they give nothing away of the subject (btw, mine are the middle ones).


Shiver Book Review
Lovely, lyrical, and achingly sad. Shiver is more introspective than most YA books and is sometimes criticized for being too slow or wordy, but I found it to be beautifully written, tragic, and a gorgeous take on werewolf lore. Sam’s desperate struggle to hold onto his humanity is incredibly poignant, and his heartrending relationship with Grace is deeply emotional and sweet. It’s a book that makes me cry every time I read it.



Linger Book Review
Linger, the much-anticipated sequel to Maggie Stiefvater’s New York Times bestseller Shiver, finds Grace and Sam still in love—and still human. While Sam tries to convince himself that the cure he endured at the end of Shiver actually did turn him from a werewolf back into a human being, Grace continues to struggle with her relationship with her parents. Sam is no longer a part of the pack, but he does not feel free of the ties that bind him to the wolves. He feels responsible for the newest wolves, and he struggles with his new post-mythological-being identity.


Forever Book Review
The Wolves of Mercy Falls series is love story told almost like a fairy tale. Aside from the bittersweet urgency of the romance, one of the most poignant elements in the books to me has been the wolves’ desperate struggle to hang onto their human selves. The knowledge that they will lose every shard of awareness of who they are moves me unbearably, and Sam and Grace together are unlike any other couple I’ve ever read.

““Cole,” I said, “do you think I’m lovable?”
“As in ‘cuddly and’?”
“As in ‘able to be loved,’” I said.
Cole’s gaze was unwavering. Just for a moment, I had the strange idea that I could see exactly what he had looked like when he was younger, and exactly what he’d look like when he was older. It was piercing, a secret glimpse of his future. “Maybe,” he said. “But you won’t let anybody try.”
I closed my eyes and swallowed. “I can’t tell the diference between not fighting,” I said,“and giving up.”
Despite my eyelids being tightly shut, a single, hot tear ran out of my left eye. I was so angry that it had escaped. I was so angry.
Beneath me, the bed tipped as Cole edged closer. I felt him lean over me. His breath, warm and measured, hit my cheek. Two breaths. Three. Four. I didn’t know what I wanted. Then I heard him stop breathing, and a second later, I felt his lips on my mouth. It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with him before, hungry, wanting, desperate. It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with anyone before. This kiss was so soft that it was like a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it waslike a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it was like someone running his fingers along them. My mouth parted and stilled; it was so quiet, a whisper, not a shout. Cole’s hand touched my neck, thumb pressed into the
skin next to my jaw. It wasn’t a touch that said “I need more”. It was a touch that said “I want this.”
It was all completely soundless. I didn’t think either of us was breathing.
Cole sat back up, slowly, and I opened my eyes. His expression, as ever, was blank, the face he wore when something mattered.
He said, “That’s how I would kiss you, if I loved you.” “

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