A book review.
The Arrangement by Paul White
Gritty/Mystery
Rating: 5 Stars
Kindle Unlimited
38 Pages
This story started out with a man’s arrest for a woman he didn’t know.
As it unfolded, it twisted and turned in ways I hadn’t foreseen.
It should have been a story of a special love. Romance had bloomed out over a chance meeting in the rain.
Instead it turned into something clever and sad, and truly tragic. So many people had their lives changed because of one selfish man whose authority was passed to others.
This is a fantastic addition to Paul White’s collection of Bite-Sized -Reads.
This book is also standalone and this is the stunning description
She vowed to love him forever, then vanished without a word.
Abbey was taken from him twice: first by lies, and then by violence from those who never saw her as human.
One day, she was there, laughing, dancing, loving him without restraint. The next, she was gone. All that was left, a scribbled note.. No explanation. No reason. Just silence.
But the truth was worse than he could imagine.
Dragged from her home, Abbey is forced into a marriage she never agreed to. Sold by her own family to becomes a prisoner, a slave in a stranger’s house, stripped of her freedom.
When she uncovers hidden truths, she risks everything to escape. But the family will not let defiance go unpunished. To them, her rebellion is a stain on their honour. And they hunt her down to erase it.
At the trial, his love for Abbey crashes back in waves, each new revelation tearing deeper.
The defence called it ‘culture’.
The jury called it murder.
The Arrangement is a searing, unflinching exploration of forced marriage and so-called ‘honour’ violence, ripped from real-world brutality. It lays bare its corrosive power, not just on victims, but on families, lovers, and the bonds between them.
Yet this is not merely a story of hatred. It is a story of love: its resilience, its scars, and what remains when it is tested by cruelty, ignorance, and evil.
This is a tale of a Love of laughter, slaughtered by Tradition.
My Favourite Bits
When the first broadcast of Abbigail Cartwright’s death was announced I paid it little heed. It may seem harsh, but her death was of no account to me.
My life continued, unchanged, unaffected. Until the following Thursday morning.
I could not help myself, I burst out laughing. I reached down, grasped her hand and tugged, helping her to gain her feet. But Abbey, in a fit of reprisal, pulled me firmly towards her. I fell, half beside and half on top of her. We lay there for a moment or two, breathless, both coated in dank, stinking mud, with the rain torrenting down, yet giggling like two mischievous schoolchildren.
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