I started reading The Language of Flowers by Vanessa Diffenbaugh and it's so good! It immediately drew me in with what might be the best opening paragraph of a novel I've ever read:
"For eight years I dreamed of fire. Trees ignited as I passed them; oceans burned. The sugary smoke settled in my hair as I slept, the scent like a cloud left on my pillow as I rose. Even so, the moment my mattress started to burn, I bolted away. The sharp, chemical smell was nothing like the hazy syrup of my dreams; the two were as different as Carolina and Indian jasmine, separation and attachment. They could not be confused."