‘I have the worst luck ever. I failed my Foundations of Western Art class. My roommate hates me. My ex-boyfriend sent a naked picture of me to his entire debate team. My mom’s having a baby. I’m in New Zealand. And I’m going to find my father. Holy shit.’
Willa Loveridge likes to be in control of everything and everyone. But when things start to spin out of her control, she only knows how to do one thing: panic. When Willa’s estranged father appears after nineteen years of radio silence for the sole purpose of paying her college tuition, without even seeing her or introducing himself, Willa boards a plane to New Zealand in an effort to regain some control of her rapidly spiralling life. She’s done with the absent father act, and wants to find the man that thinks he can just throw eighty-five grand at her and then disappear again.
But after an unexpected emergency landing and a brief encounter with a cult, Willa somehow finds herself in a caravan with a YouTuber, the star of a million Korean Dramas, and a Scottish kid with an unhealthy attachment to his guitar. Together, they navigate the backroads of New Zealand one wrong turn at a time. Which is basically her worst nightmare. Between some unnecessary hand-holding and a swift shove out of her comfort zone, Willa soon finds herself learning the fine art of losing control.
I, Carly, full-heartedly acknowledge that this review is absolutely biased. Because Ashley Shepherd’s writing is like a warm blanket on my soul that I can’t get enough of. The Fine Art of Losing Control is no exception to that. It’s the kind of book I stayed indoors all day reading on a Sunday, unable to leave the comfort of my bed until I knew how this book ended.