When we open a new book, we are not just stepping into a story, we are stepping into a life. And with Lost In The Divine Plan, that life belongs to Franco Falcone.
Franco’s story begins like so many we hold dear: the tale of an immigrant who leaves behind the soil of his homeland for the promise of America. He arrives in New York carrying little more than hope, ambition, and the quiet determination that has defined generations of dreamers before him.
Through perseverance, grit, and the grace of chance encounters, Franco builds a life worth celebrating, a life filled with success, love, and belonging.
Yet what makes Lost In The Divine Plan compelling is not just the immigrant’s triumph, but the shadow that lingers at its edges. Franco’s world is carefully constructed, yet fragile in ways neither he nor the reader fully anticipates. At the heart of this novel lies a truth so profound that it reframes not only Franco’s journey, but also the reader’s understanding of family, fate, and the unseen forces that shape us.
This is where the art of promotion becomes delicate. To reveal too much would rob readers of the discovery, the moment when the story pivots, when perception shifts and the ground beneath them gives way. Instead, I invite readers to approach Franco’s story with openness, to let themselves be led by the familiar rhythms of ambition, love, and belonging, and then to brace themselves for what lies hidden within.
Lost In The Divine Plan is not just a novel about an immigrant’s rise or the power of love, it’s a meditation on destiny and the secrets we carry. It asks us to consider how much of our lives are truly our own, and how much is bound to forces larger than ourselves.
Franco Falcone is a character who will linger long after the final page, not only for the life he built, but for the revelation that defines it.

Leave a comment