Heart and Seoul

Product Description
\nOne woman learns that the price of belonging is often steeper than expected in this heart-wrenching yet hopeful romantic novel and first in the Seoul duology by USA Today bestselling author Jen Frederick.As a Korean adoptee, Hara Wilson doesn’t need anyone telling her she looks different from her white parents. She knows. Every time Hara looks in the mirror, she’s reminded that she doesn’t look like anyone else in her family—not her loving mother, Ellen; not her jerk of a father, Pat; and certainly not like Pat’s new wife and new “real” son.\\nAt the age of twenty-five, she thought she had come to terms with it all, but when her father suddenly dies, an offhand comment at his funeral triggers an identity crisis that has her running off to Seoul in search of her roots.\\nWhat Hara finds there has all the makings of a classic K-drama: a tall, mysterious stranger who greets her at the airport, spontaneous adventures across the city, and a mess of familial ties, along with a red string of destiny that winds its way around her, heart and soul. Hara goes to Korea looking for answers, but what she gets instead is love—a forbidden love that will either welcome Hara home…or destroy her chance of finding one.
\n Review
\n"With this charming contemporary, Frederick (
\nBombshell) delivers a dramatic love story while sensitively exploring the thorny issue of interracial adoption...Fans and new readers alike will be hooked on this page-turning tale."—
\nPublishers Weekly
\n About the Author
\nJen Frederick is a Korean adoptee living in the Midwest with her husband, daughter, and rambunctious dog. Under the psuedonym Erin Watt, Frederick has cowritten two #1
\nNew York Times bestselling novels.
\n Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
\nChapter One\\nWhen I was ten, my dad, Pat Wilson, joked that I should've had my tear ducts removed with my tonsils. I understood where he was coming from. I used to cry all the time. I cried when my crayons broke. I cried when I lost the red bow that was tied around my favorite stuffed bear. I cried when I broke the back door to the garage. Dad seemed like he was going to cry over that one, too. Hara, you're eight. How in the hell did you pull the door off its hinges?\\nI can't remember how I broke the door, but the reason I was crying when I was ten is still vivid in my memory. Why that's the memory of my childhood that has stuck with me I can't explain, but humiliation is like superglue. My elementary school days are a mosaic of failing the spelling bee, tucking my skirt into the back of my tights, not realizing I had peanut butter smeared across my sweater for a whole day, seeing my crush confess his feelings to another girl on the same day I was going to declare my fourth-grade heart, and then this one. I'd like to say that these past hurts stung and I moved on, but I can recall the day with perfect clarity. It was sunny and the school term was nearing its end. We were all anticipating summer break and perhaps that was why we were testy with one another. During recess, a couple of stupid kids asked if my face was flat because I'd fallen off the monkey bars and landed facedown. One, I had never fallen off the monkey bars. I was strong as hell even at age ten and I could fly across those damn things. Second, my face is not flat. If anything my face is too round. My chin is curved and my cheeks are plump. I don't have a prominent forehead or deep-set eyes, but that's not a bad thing. It's an Asian thing.\\nEven though I knew this, I felt ashamed of my face and so I cried because that's what ten-year-olds do when their feelings are hurt. The tears bothered my dad.\\nHara, are you seriously crying because some kid said you had a flat face? What's the big deal? Hara, tears aren't going to make other kids stop making fun of you. Ellen, tell her to stop crying.\\nHe wasn't wrong. Crying didn't change anything, and a year later, my tear ducts closed up and have