I may have written a book entitled PERFECTED, but that doesn’t mean I believe in perfection, or that I even strive for it. In my novel, the main character, Ella, was bred to be the perfect pet. She was raised to put her masters’ happiness before her own. In return, she’s been promised a perfect life, one of idle luxury, one of comfort and stability, but ultimately a life that doesn’t truly belong to her. At first, Ella’s new life at her masters’ house seems charming. Her owners surround her with beautiful things: fancy cars, expensive houses and fine clothes. It isn’t until she finds herself falling for Penn, her master’s son, that her perception of the world begins to shift. This world might appear perfect from the outside, but it’s only a veneer. Scratch the surface and there’s ugliness underneath. I don’t know anyone who could be considered perfect. Do you? Someone who always has their hair perfectly coiffed first thing in the morning, whose home is immaculate and never suffers from an occasional nervous breakdown? It may be that people like that actually exist in reality, but I certainly don’t know any of them. Our flaws are the…