I received an ARC of this book from TRSOR in exchange for an honest review and as part of the book’s blog tour promotions.

I’ve read many books form Harper Sloan before. However, I have never read anything like this from her at all. Perfectly Imperfect is more than just a contemporary romance novel. It speaks to all women, and its message is a powerful one. If you read between the lines of the whole book and look at the big picture, you will see that we are all, at one aspect or another, just like the heroine.

We live in a cruel world where beauty is measured by what is seen. I don’t mean that everybody does that. It’s just that society tends to promote outer beauty, one that society wants us to aspire to be. We see women’s magazines headlining about how to accept your inner beauty and make yourself shine, while subliminally putting on a very sexy and slim cover model. Yep. We see that everyday. That’s why as much as a lot of us try to mean well and say that what matters is what’s the inside, we don’t always realize that while we keep saying that, at the back of our minds, we also have our own idea of what we do and don’t find beautiful.

While this book had some cheesy tropes, it really didn’t bother me at all. What I loved about the book was the fact that us, women, should really forget that beauty and love come hand in hand. Honestly, I when I am out and people watching, it amazes me how I see so many couples who are clearly in love, and they come in all shapes and sizes. Beauty, whether inner or outer, doesn’t really matter when it comes to the matters of the heart. And I think the heart supersedes anything else, don’t you?


“Are you nervous right now?”

I nod.

“Tell me why.”  His demand, steady and calm, gives me the courage I need to tell him.  To open a vein and bleed my insecurities.

“I’m not perfect,” I whisper.

“And neither am I, Willow.  I don’t want perfect.  What so many see as perfect, to me, is fake.  Perfect isn’t achievable naturally.  No one, and I mean no one, is perfect.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even done speaking, but one long finger comes up and presses against my lips before I can speak.

“No, let me finish.  There isn’t beauty in perfection.  It’s as fake as the image the word projects.  Beauty is found in imperfection, Willow, because to admit you’re not perfect means you’re admitting you’re not whole and absolute.  When I think of myself, I see someone willing to admit he’s as far from complete as it gets because, in order to get to that perfection, I need to find the other part of me who will make my life better.  To take all the faults I have and fill them, and only then will I be there.  You see, the way I see it, the only way to become perfect is to find that perfectly imperfect person who brings it out of you.”

When he stops, I swear I might have stopped breathing.  How am I supposed to respond to that?

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice strong and sure.

“Yes, Kane.  Nerves or not, I do.”

“Then let me show you what I see when I look at you.”

He brings his hands up, framing my face once again in a way I’m quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of.  His warm eyes implore, begging me without words to let him continue.  I do not intend to stop him, regardless of the butterflies currently taking over my system.  I’m all in.


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