“What a wonderful book, a dramatization
of an authentic way of being and the
journey that India, the main character,
takes to get there.”

 - Beverly Donofrio, author of
Riding in Cars with Boys & Astonished

“I am delighted that Parisian Chic inspired India to explore Paris. Thérèse must have been French in another life.”

 - Inés de la Fressange,
author of Parisian Chic

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India Butler’s journey to America put her life on a new track. Now a trip to Paris threatens to derail her – or to make things all they are supposed to be. With a new job, a new friend, a potential new lover…and an old lover, India is dealing with nearly as much as she can handle. But that’s only the beginning.

 


Excerpt from Letter from Paris

“The traffic was surprisingly light and as they left the auto route from Charles de Gaulle airport way behind India, with mounting excitement, began recognizing landmarks—the Louvre, the Place de la Concorde, the Egyptian obelisk, the Champs Elysees. She could hardly contain herself when the car swung over the arched bridge of the Seine to the left bank and she was finally in the Sixth Arondissement.

They pulled up to the cobblestoned courtyard of the hotel where the driver deposited India’s suitcase on the sidewalk and, without ceremony, took her Euros and drove off into the night. India was negotiating the stone steps while struggling with the wheels of her carry-on suitcase when the door opened and a porter helped her inside.

This was not at all the entrance I was planning on making, she thought, running her hand through her bedraggled hair and taking in the elegance of the foyer and sitting room where a few couples were relaxing on luxurious couches in front of a roaring log fire.

“Bonsoir.” India said with a smile to the concierge.

“Good evening, Miss Butler. I hope you will enjoy your stay with us.” he responded in clipped English while reaching for a set of keys from a wooden cubby-hole.

India registered quickly, then followed the bellman down a short hallway. As the door closed behind him India looked with delight around her room, at the floral wallpaper, the exquisite drapes, the gilt mirrors, the marble bathroom. It’s like a doll’s house, she mused. Like stepping back in time.

Pulling off her boots, she threw down her raincoat and opened the window, drinking in the damp air of the leafy courtyard. She was in Paris, in Paris for four whole nights.  Dismissing the nagging feeling that dinner would be a whole lot more fun if she were not alone, she began to plan out her evening. She would shower, then order a vin blanc before dinner.”

 


 

“A Great Summer Read.”

 - Jane Green, NY Times Best Selling Author

 

“India’s Summer offers a timeless tale of women supporting one another – delivered in a way that makes it feel fresh, alive, and utterly of the moment.”

– Arianna Huffington


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US: Amazon / Kindle / Nook
UK: Amazon / Kindle

 


 

India Butler, single and about to turn forty, travels to LA in an attempt to reinvent her life. In a world rarely illuminated by the flashbulbs of the paparazzi, she discovers the true meaning of “having it all.”

 


Excerpts from India’s Summer

thereseDip into India’s summer in Los Angeles…

““And you are just in time for the sunset. It’s going to be spectacular tonight. Step outside and watch while I open the wine.”

“You’re right,” India gasped, a few minutes later, taking the glass from his hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a more gorgeous sunset. It feels like there’s nothing between here and the ends of the earth.”

They stood together on the deck as the ocean turned first red and then became an expanse of shimmering silver light.

“You’re shivering,” Adam said, putting his arm around her. “Let’s go inside. Hungry?”

“Always.”  There’s that electric shock, she thought, as he guided her toward the fire.

 


 

If I do come to live in LA it’ll be Hollywood, this end of town, she thought, taking in the jumble of cowboy bars and shacks, the tacky sex stores nestling along sleek high-rises. As they swung into the steep incline of the driveway at Chateau Marmont, the soft convertible roof slid closed over their heads and Max braked, sharply. Someone was banging on the windows. India ducked at the blinding flashes of light and put her hands over her ears as the crowd shouted Max’s name.

 


 

“Just look at that sky and that ocean,” India said with a sharp intake of breath as the car swung down the California Incline. The panorama of crumbling bluffs and endlessly blue ocean almost took her breath away. As they sped along the Pacific Coast Highway she watched the surfers climb up against the white foam of crashing waves before riding them in. She freeze-framed the moment. On the crest of a wave, she thought, contentedly, that’s how I feel right now.”