I love to read and to talk about books. I review many of the books I read. I do not accept any author/publisher submissions for reviews. I do not read or review ARCs. I do not enter any giveaways or contests. I obtain the books I review by purchasing them at the same price they are offered to the general public at the time of purchase. My reviews are intended for the use of my fellow readers. They are not advertising or promotion. They are not beta reads or constructive criticism or editing or advice to the author. My only obligation to the author is to pay the price charged for the book at the time of purchase. My reviews are sometimes critical and I will not stop posting critical reviews just to spare delicate authors' feelings. I am happy to make new friends, but friend requests from authors or promoters who have few or no books (and/or friends) in common with me and write or promote categories I do not read (especially new adult) will be ignored. I used to read more self-published books. After recent meltdowns by self-published authors, I now only read self-published authors I've previously read or who have been recommended to me by fellow readers I trust. I also used to read young adult/new adult books but rarely do so now.
Really? Okay, I lived in 3 different homes as a child, so let’s go with one for each:
Not in any particular order, though Amityville fits best with the house we lived in when I was age 10 until I left for college. In addition to being haunted, it was very old, difficult to maintain and a huge money suck. Other than that, I don't wish to elaborate on my choices. But if I am allowed to extend the definition of home to something more like, “home is where the heart is,” I can go with:
And consider Kickapoo Kamp, near Kerrville, Texas, my home. The Texas hill country has always felt like home to me. I felt safe there and free to be a kid and let loose and play and have fun. I miss the lake and the hills and the hawks flying and the deer that were everywhere. I’ve been back a few times. Even went to college in Austin just to be near it but it wasn’t the same. You can’t go home again. Not really. In Summer at Willow Lake, the heroine is restoring the summer camp her family owns and much of it is told in flashbacks. The heroine wasn’t able to recreate the camp she had to deal with in the present time to exactly the camp she remembered and it turns out she really didn’t want to, anyway. Plus she finds love of course and that's what’s the nice about books like Summer at Willow Lake. It reminded me of all the good parts of camp and it reminded me that it wouldn’t be the same if I went back there but that it doesn’t matter, because I still have my good memories of camp plus all the good things that have happened to me as an adult.
Also, I have not lived in any home I would consider haunted since I stopped living with my parents.