Preview - A Fortune of Sand by Ruta Sepetys
A Fortune of Sand
Ruta Sepetys
Copyright 2026
302 Pages
The Roaring 20s, ladies and gentlemen — sequins, sass, and champagne that definitely wasn’t taxed properly. I’m a sucker for a flapper dress and a questionable life choice, so imagine my delight when I met this family: four siblings with enough wit, charm, and mild dysfunction to keep me entertained until the stock market crashes.
Their clan runs a booming auto‑glass factory in Motor City Detroit, which means they’re rolling in that sweet, sweet windshield money. They live in a fancy neighborhood full of glittering parties, socialites with sharp elbows, and — wait for it — a mysterious, Gatsby‑adjacent neighbor who lurks around being rich and enigmatic. I mean… yes. Inject this directly into my veins.
Our story follows Marjorie, the youngest sibling and a whimsical menace to society. She dreams of becoming a fashion designer, and because subtlety is for people without ambition, she secretly enrolls herself in an art residency. Picture her: locked away with endless supplies, ready to stitch her way into fashion history while hiding the whole thing from her family like it’s Prohibition and she’s smuggling sewing needles.
Her siblings, naturally, help her sneak off — because what are siblings for if not enabling your questionable plans? At the residency, she meets two artists who instantly become her partners in mischief. Their antics torment Dock, the residency manager, who has the energy of a man one spilled paint jar away from a breakdown. Oh, and did I mention the residency is run by the Bonafonte family? As in Mr. Mysterious Neighbor Bonafonte himself. The plot thickens like bootlegged gelatin.
Marjorie’s family is a buffet of snarky one‑liners, petty feuds, and secrets stacked higher than a flapper’s headdress. You can feel the onion layers waiting to be peeled — and probably making someone cry. And Mr. Bonafonte? What’s his deal? Why is he lurking? And how long until whimsical Marjorie crashes directly into his carefully curated mystique?
Anyway, I’ve got to run — my party dress is on, my pearl headband is crooked in a charming way, and I’m holding a champagne glass that I absolutely will spill on someone important. Let’s see what the 20s have in store for us this time.
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