- River seems to fall head over heels for Brooke when he first meets her at the creek. Do you think it’s possible to fall in love so quickly or do you think River’s age played a part in it?
- What are your first impressions of Brooke?
- Brooke says that eventually everyone gets used to pretty. Do you think this is true?
- Why do you believe River held onto Brooke? Do you think it’s possible to hold onto someone for years, without contact?
- What do you think of River’s relationship with Amy?
- River asks Amy what she thinks she’ll miss about life when she dies. Amy says he shouldn’t think about things like that. Do you think Brooke’s free spirit helped to shape River’s thoughts? Do you think our first loves somehow help to shape our thoughts on love, life?
- River sets out to find Brooke after he receives her lost letter. Would you have done the same?
- When River sees Brooke with another guy, he leaves without talking to her. Why do you think he does this?
- Were you surprised that it was Amy who showed up to see River at the coffee bar? Were you expecting Brooke? Do you think it's reasonable for River to have considered taking Amy back?
- Did you suspect that River was bidding against Brooke for Mrs. Catcher's house? Why do you think Brooke bought the house?
- Near the end of the novel, Brooke recites a quote by F. Scott Fitzgerald that says: There are all kinds of love in this world but never the same love twice? Do you think this is true?
- What role do you think fate plays in this story? Do you believe that River and Brooke were meant to find each other again or do you think it was purely a lucky coincidence?
- In the epilogue, River says: There are no accident, but instead, only things we cannot see, only hidden memories--later disguised and made to look as if they merely came to us...by way of accident. How do you interpret this quote? Do you believe it to be true?
Get By Way of Accident NOW for only 99 cents in e-book on Amazon! River and Brooke's story has never been offered at this price! So hurry and snatch it up today!
And in case you missed it, during November and December, each of my books will take a turn at 99 cents in e-book on Amazon! I've never offered all five of my books at this price...EVER! But it's the holidays, AND I'm so grateful for your support this year! It was seven years ago that I wrote the very first words to Butterfly Weeds! (I can't believe it's been that long already!) THANK YOU for sticking with me and my characters!
Already have all five of my books?? 'Tis the season to give! Simply click "Give as a Gift" on the right side of the book's Amazon page, and you can deliver a small-town romance to a friend!
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Sometimes photos or events or certain people inspire my characters. And if you've read By Way of Accident, you've read about River's grandpa. In some ways, his grandpa reminds me of mine. So, this post today is a little story about the guy I called Grandpa and the man who helped to bring to life River Asher.
My grandpa was a raccoon-trapping, frog-leg-eating, small-town Missouri farmer–the type who had worked in the fields since he was eight, served his country in World War II and was a member of the local Veterans of Foreign Wars most of his life. He was painfully quiet, but when he did find some words he felt worthy of sharing, you could sometimes catch him talking about his time in World War II. He was drafted near the end of the war in 1944. He had received a postponement of induction from the United States government that allowed him to finish his harvest before reporting to duty. And it was on a cool, sunny afternoon in December when he reported to boot camp at Camp Wolters, just four miles northeast of Mineral Wells, Texas.
Upon arriving, he was shuffled into a line full of young men, mostly in their late teens and early twenties. He was twenty-one at the time. All the men were waiting to give their names and birth dates and other pieces of information to a man holding a wooden clipboard and a fountain pen at the front of the line.
“Name and birth date,” the thin, blond-haired man said in a monotone, gruff voice as my grandpa reached the man’s fold-up chair.
Grandpa stated his name and birth date and waited as the man scribbled it onto a little white card attached to the clipboard.
“Nationality,” the man echoed back when he was done scribbling.
Nationality? Grandpa said he stood there and thought about it for a moment. He was suddenly a little rattled. It had been generations ago, but his family had originally come to the United States from Germany. He even spoke the language. But not only had he never been asked that question before, he was also quite clear on whom the enemy was, and he was even more certain that his light brown hair and bright, blue eyes matched its description pretty closely.
“I don’t know,” Grandpa eventually said. The words came out timidly as he shrugged his shoulders. He was an American. He prayed this man would see this. After all, this state they called Texas might as well have been a foreign country. It was by far the farthest my grandfather had ever traveled from his bed in rural Missouri.
The man looked up from his clipboard for the first time. He eyed my grandpa up and down once, settled on his eyes and then silently returned his attention back to the clipboard. He then checked a couple boxes and handed the card to Grandpa.
“Give this to the man in the next line,” the thin, blond-haired man said, gesturing him onward.
Curious to know what the thin man had checked, Grandpa glanced down inconspicuously at the white card now in his tanned, callused farm hand. His eyes jumped over his name and birth date scribbled in the pen’s black ink, then quickly caught the word nationality and slowly read what was followed by a single black check mark: American Indian.
Well, German American or American Indian, he was just Grandpa to my two sisters and me. He called the same place home his entire life. He wore overalls or coveralls...and on most days, an old, leather cap. And this is just one of the many memories he left us.
Grandpa passed away a month before his 83rd birthday not too long ago. But today, he still inspires me. And I think you might even be able to see a little of him in River's grandpa too.
Love these By Way of Accident images made by Books to Breathe!
And THANK YOU to all those who read, reviewed, shared, liked, tweeted and commented yesterday! You helped make the release day a great day! Thank you for your support! ♥
Also, for all those who picked up a copy of River and Brooke's story, I hope you enjoy! For those who haven't had a chance yet, you can find it here!
It's release day, and that means there's also a Release Day Giveaway winner! Congrats, Gaby S. of Suriname! You have been contacted, and you will be receiving a signed copy of By Way of Accident, Brooke's heart necklace and a special edition By Way of Accident bookmark! Hope you enjoy!
Find By Way of Accident on Amazon!
I write about rain on tin roofs, gravel roads, old trucks with holes in the floorboards and small-town summer nights. I grew up on a farm in a little Midwestern town. Now, I live in Kansas City, Mo., with my weatherman husband.
Laura Miller's first contemporary romance novel, Butterfly Weeds, hit the Amazon Best-Seller's List and Top 100 in October 2012. The sequel to Butterfly Weeds, My Butterfly, released in June 2013. For All You Have Left, By Way of Accident, When Cicadas Cry and A Bird on a Windowsill followed. Look for The Life We Almost Had, releasing Sept. 19.