On sweltering days of summer — or for that matter, any other day of the year — one of my favorite ways to distract myself from whatever’s bothering me physically (like extremely hot or cold days) or mentally (like stressful situations) is reading good fiction.
With all the wonderful indy authors that self-publishing is making possible, the world of fiction has become more exuberantly varied than ever. Which independently published books do you enjoy?
Blogger and indy author D. Wallace Peach writes from Oregon. She began writing later in life and has more than made up for lost time. Here are some of her favorite authors…
The best thing about spending the last 2 months driving between Oregon and Washington, living out of a suitcase, and ignoring my bossy muse has been catching up on reading. Indie books were gifts from heaven!
It’s been a while since I’ve shared reviews of books I’ve enjoyed. These are in no particular order. And there are more to come!
A Thousand Yesteryears
by Mae Clair
Intriguing plot and believable characters. At the death of her aunt, Eve Parrish returns to Point Pleasant to sell off the family hotel. Not only is the town known for sightings of a fantastical creature, the mothman, it’s also the location of a bridge collapse that, fifteen years ago, claimed the life of Eve’s father and friend. That tragedy still hangs over the town, and Eve has no plans to stay.
But her old crush Caden Flynn still lives in town, a man haunted…
I arrive home at lunchtime with a 30-minute break from work. I am hassled and frazzled and tired. I dump some leftovers in a saucepan while washing the breakfast dishes, starting a load of laundry, and cleaning up the newspapers scattered on the dining room table.
That’s when I see the patch of sunlight, and the yogi.
He can’t cross his legs as human meditators do, but instead sits like a Sphinx, front legs straight ahead, beautiful gold and white furry chest held straight and proud. His neck rises a bit as he faces me and holds my green eyes into his chocolate brown ones. The expression is wise and all-knowing, and I can hear his thoughts immediately:
Why don’t you calm down, for heaven’s sake?
The sun is basking his body in heat and light, and his mouth opens to pant. But actually he is trying to say something to me…
I arrive home at lunchtime with a 30-minute break from work. I am hassled and frazzled and tired. I dump some leftovers in a saucepan while washing the breakfast dishes, starting a load of laundry, and cleaning up the newspapers scattered on the dining room table.
