|
Dear Reader,
I think this surge in the collective love we have for small-town romance could come with its own branding: Quiet Escapism. Maybe it’s a reverberation caused by the pandemic, or perhaps it’s less specific than that, but it feels as if we all yearn to slow down in a world that’s constantly telling us to strive for more, to do it quicker, or to do it bigger.
Approaching a small-town story was something I could not get myself to take lightly. I remembered what it was like to move to a small town and to experience the less-than-cute side effects, the not-so-charming rumor mill. How would I write from an authentic place without addressing some of those truths? How could I blend some of the very real-life hardships people face against the backdrop of a lovely town you’d want to return to, without glossing over everything or letting it feel too kitschy?
This was how Fisher and Sage started to form in my mind and solidify in my heart—by unearthing and replanting the pieces of my own. From there, this story bloomed. This book took twice as long as any of my previous works because I was hard on myself at every step. But just like Fisher and Sage, once I learned to savor it and to be proud of where I was, it came together, too.
I’ve known many a Fisher and Sage in my life—I’ve been with them both at different phases, too. They’re perpetually hopeful even when they’re hurting. Striving for connection even when they feel unlovable. The side characters and found family in this story are some of my most cherished to date.
I know we are never supposed to pick favorites, but I’d be lying if I said these two weren’t extra special to me, or that the themes in this—being present, being open, and brave enough to change—aren’t dear to my heart. I hope you love them, too.
Happy Reading,
Tarah
| 
