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prettyiwa · 6 months

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Relationship: Miyuki Kazuya x F!Reader Rating: SFW Content Tags: MLB!Miyuki Kazuya, Interpreter!Reader, Coworkers to Friends to ???, Pining, Previous alcohol consumption, Mild flirting, First kiss, Almost confessions, Slight panic, guilt, & frustration, Adult Kazuya is still awkward, Reader is a little older than Kazuya, Reader takes her job very seriously, Mixed signals at the end. Summary: When Kazuya asked his team with the NPB to be posted, he didn't think he'd end up meeting you again. When time came to choose an interpreter, he chose you without hesitation. Neither of you truly anticipated that feelings would bloom, even with the near constant proximity. Your birthday rolls around and he isn't thinking about his silly little crush until he can't stop thinking about it. Word Count: 4,590

A/N: I wanted to include the entire story for his birthday but NaNoWriMo came along and took up my attention. So I'm sharing an excerpt instead!

And thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta @tyga-lily. I'd still be floundering if not for you ♡

As soon as he steps out into the night, Kazuya’s met with a wall of humid air, thick and warm thanks to the lingering heat from the day. His clothes are already starting to stick to him as he steps further from the house and it won’t be much longer until he starts to feel beads of sweat building at the nape of his neck. When he turns to find you, his movements feel a little loose and everything seems hazy at the edges and he realizes he’s not as sober as he thought he was.

Still, he’s gotta be soberer than you, what, with the drinking games you were dragged into by your college best friend. He’s honestly lost count of how many shots he took from you throughout the night (and however many more he ended up tossing into the plant him when they became too much).

The music inside dies down a bit—probably the work of your brother, the acting adult of the evening—and he tries to listen for you, only to come up empty. No sounds of your footsteps, neither in the street nor along the staircase leading to the beach, leaving him alone with the increasingly loud beating of his heart.

It’s only been a couple of minutes. How far could you have gone? It’s not like you could’ve made it down to the shore in that time. That doesn’t stop his mind from conjuring scenarios in which you fall into the water, unable to get back up. Moving forward, he ends up tripping over that same rock he’s tripped over three times today, feeling that familiar pain shoot from his toe up his leg.

“Dammit!”

“Miyuki?”

The sound of your voice floods him with relief and he turns his head in your direction. The motion makes him dizzy for half a second. “There you are.”

You pop around the corner, confusion almost as palpable as the humidity before it makes way for your wide grin. “Are you okay? Did the rock attack you again?”

He feels a flash of minor annoyance, but he can’t ignore the way your smile pulls at his own lips. “Shut it.”

“It’s been picking on you all day.” You chuckle, coming closer, letting him see the way you bite your tongue and hold it between your teeth to keep yourself from saying much more. “Aha, sorry. I don’t get to tease you like this often.”

“Yeah, sure.” He closes the distance, grip tightening around the jacket he brought for you in case it got cool. “What are you doing around here? I thought you came outside to get some fresh air.”

“I did, but then I remembered that I left you with them and that didn’t seem like a good idea.” You both glance toward the door, lips quirking at the raucous laughter that comes from inside, almost as if to prove your point. “At the very least, you should have someone to…”

You suck air through your teeth, trying to find the words, so he tries supplying them for you.

“Should I have someone to protect me from them?” He likes the sound of your laugh, the way it bounces between you two before settling on his skin.

“I was thinking more along the lines of, ‘you should at least have someone to interpret what they’re saying,’ but sure. Protect works too.” Even when drunk, you’re thinking of him and how to include him. Even when you’re drunk, you’re thinking about working.

“You don’t need to do that. It’s your birthday celebration. You should have fun.”

“I am having fun. You’re lots of fun.”

How do you do that so easily? Heat spreads across his cheeks, settling on the tips of his ears and the back of his neck and his mouth goes dry before he runs his fingers through his hair, thinking of what to say.

“You know, you switch to English a lot when you’re drunk.”

Yep. Awesome. Awesome response, Kazuya.

He watches as the realization hits you—the way you tilt your head to the left as you’re trying to remember, the slow opening of your mouth and raising of your brows before your hand covers your mouth in surprise. “No! What? Have I really?”

A laugh escapes him at your reaction and he feels a little bad when you bury your face in your hands. It’s not often he sees you this unguarded and animated. He’s still laughing when he starts pulling at your fingers, gently prying them away from your face as you eke out an apology. He won’t admit it to you, but he enjoys witnessing these tiny mistakes from you, little hints of proof that there’s more to you than he’s yet to learn.

You once told him you’re an open book, but he’s surprised by how deep the book actually is.

“Seriously. I hardly ever hear you speak so much English unless we’re doing interviews for the media.”

“Yes, almost like that’s entirely by design or something!” Your groan turns into a laugh before you turn away from him, leaving his hand to fall away from yours. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go take a swim until I hit land again.”

Three steps away and his hand is wrapping around your wrist, remembering why he came out here in the first place. Glancing over your shoulder at him, you smile, pulling your arm (and him) forward. “You’re not gonna try to stop me, are you?”

“With how much you’ve had to drink tonight? You definitely need a chaperone.” You wriggle your wrist free, though you slide your hand into his, filling the spaces between his fingers with yours.

“And you wanna be my chaperone? Miyuki. Listen. You’re an absolute baseball genius but I have seen you on the sand today. I’m much better suited to be your chaperone instead.”

“Oi! It was you who assumed I was any good at soccer in the first place.” Snickering beside him, you pull toward the stairs that lead to the sand, stumbling on the first step. His left arm comes out to stabilize you and the grip of his right tightens around your fingers and all it does is make you laugh more. “Who’s tripping over their own feet now, huh?”

Your fingers squeeze his and, when he glances over, you’re sporting a wide, carefree smile, one he’s only recently started seeing more of. Warmth blossoms from where you two touch, quickly spreading from his tingling fingers up his arm, gathering in the center of his chest. It’s impossible to be around you right now.

Looking out at the beach, he finds the minuscule moonlight barely bouncing off the waves in the distance, otherwise leaving everything in the dark. Despite how clear the skies were during the day, clouds have since taken hold in the sky, making everything feel closer than it is. Despite the darkness ahead that threatens to consume everything, it’s like you provide your own source of light, just for the two of you.

All giggles and energy beside him, nearly bounding from the last step once you reach it, only stopping because you’re tethered to him. His grip on your hand loosens and he refuses to acknowledge the fuzzy feeling in his chest when you ignore his offer to let you go, keeping your hand in his. Still, you pull at him, urging him forward at your pace on the uneven terrain.

“You’re such a child,” he says.

“I’m a child? I’m older than you. What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a victim of circumstance.”

Stopping in your tracks, you pull your hand from his grasp, he thinks he said something wrong, but there’s a smile on your lips as you bend down. “You? A victim? You, Miyuki Kazuya, are a great many things, but ‘victim’ isn’t one of them.”

It takes a moment too long before he registers that you’re fiddling with the fastening of your shoes.

“Oi, oi. Don’t take those off.” Looking up at him, you stick out your tongue, not ceasing your efforts to free yourself from your shoes. “You’re gonna complain about your feet being sandy when we reach those steps again.”

“Oh, boo. Let me have some fun.”

He catches himself halfway through running his fingers through his hair, smoothing the rest of it over to stop the nervous tic. “Are you gonna blame me when your feet hurt later?”

You’re silent for a bit, biting your tongue as you think before coming to a decision. “I’ll try not to.” It’s only a second or two more before you’ve successfully freed yourself from your shoes. Looking up at him, you give him a smile that means nothing good, though you wait before stepping away from your shoes. “Miyuki? You’ll let me have fun tonight, right? I hardly ever get to do stuff like this.”

Kazuya’s not sure what it is, but something about the way you ask has his heart kicking up a gear. “Agh, fine.” A false concession, but it keeps a smile on your face. “Just for tonight.”

“Good. I’ll hold my complaints till tomorrow, then!”

And you’re off, jumping up and away from your shoes with little regard for the sand you’ve inadvertently kicked everywhere. The skirt of your dress swishes as you move, catching his eye as it does. He looks away when you carelessly bend over, grabbing your shoes before starting to skip toward the shore.

“Hey! That’s not the agreement.”

“It is now,” you call, the sound of the ocean drowning out your laugh. Only once you’ve reached where the sand grows wet do you pause, looking his way. There’s still a wide smile plastered across your face and his chest grows tight as you step closer to the water.

He picks up his pace, anxiety creeping up on him at the thought of you nearing this massive, black body of water, only spiking when he hears your sharp shriek as the cold water laps at your toes. Despite the chill, you step deeper still until your feet are consistently covered.

Kicking off his shoes, he can’t keep his eyes off of you—the way your dress barely moves with the briefest breeze and the way you subtly shift your weight from one foot to the next as you try to grow accustomed to the cold that contrasts with what little warmth remains. The clouds pass, revealing more of you to him and he’s a little surprised at how much energy you still seem to have.

The sand is cool against his feet, meaning the water is that much colder, but he doesn’t particularly care about that right now. The closer he steps toward you, the less worry he feels for your safety and the more anxiety he feels for something entirely different. You shiver and he remembers the jacket in his hand, taking a moment to place it on your shoulders.

You start, almost as if you had forgotten him, but your smile suggests otherwise. He takes his place beside you, wondering how the hell you’re staying so quiet when the water is fucking freezing.

There’s a light out on the horizon, something that goes in and out with the waves, something to stare at when he becomes too aware of your presence next to him. Clouds pass over the moon again, making everything ahead go pitch black, leaving him with naught but the beating of his heart, the light in the distance, and the burning of his fingertips.

“I like it out here, you know?” Your voice is low enough that it’s almost lost among the lapping of the sea on the shore. The clouds continue to move and the moonlight comes back, letting him look at you while you continue to look ahead.

He’s struck by the memory of you two when you two first properly met. The rain that poured, driving everyone inside while you remained outside, under the cover provided by the building. The way you watched him with a curious look on your face as he tried to make himself as presentable as possible for the start of contract negotiations. The quiet ‘good morning’ and the comment about the weather just before he remembered where he knew you from.

“You like the rain, too.”

As you turn to look at him, he wonders whether you remember it, too. Despite you working with Wynd Academy for the Tokyo Senbatsu reunion, despite you again working with Tetsu during his negotiations, despite all of the little almosts that could have swayed him… He wonders whether you remember the first words you two actually exchanged with one another. The smile that shapes your lips is softer, one that, again, reminds him of when you two stood out in the rain together.

“Yeah, I do.”

The ocean captures your attention again and he enjoys the silence that falls.

“Hey, Miyuki?”

“Hn?”

“What made you choose me?”

“What?”

“When we came back from Japan. What made you stick with me as your interpreter?”

There’s a draw, an invisible pull that makes him want to look at you. When he does, you’re already watching him, head tilted, unsure of what you’re asking. Or perhaps unsure of the answer he’ll give?

“You could have chosen anyone else from the firm, but you stuck with me. I saw you looking through the portfolios.”

“Why are you asking? It’s in the past, isn’t it?”

Your gaze shifts away from him, but he has a feeling you’re not watching the waves. “I dunno. It’s something I’ve always wondered about and… never mind. It’s fine.”

He hates when you do that. “And?”

The breeze mixes with the waves as it passes, almost taking your reluctant sigh with it. “I thought I pissed you off with how demanding I was at first. I remember you looked so annoyed and I wanted to crawl into a hole.”

He snickers, trying to apply what you’ve just told him to the woman he met in Japan two years before. From the start, you needed him to be open and to communicate in a way that he couldn’t even muster in his previous relationship. More than once you reminded him of Mei and Kuramochi with how easily you caught onto his lies, even those by omission. Imagining you intimidated by him is laughable.

“Is that funny?”

“Yeah, a little.” He laughs properly when you roll your eyes and frown. “You hardly knew me but you had no problem putting me in my place. It’s funny to think that you wanted to crawl into a hole because of it.”

“Sure, sure. So? If my first impression didn’t ruin you, what made you want to keep me around?”

“That wasn’t my first impression of you.”

“Wasn’t it?” There’s this nervous edge to your voice, accompanied by the tell-tale playing with your nails.

“Did you forget? You were one of the interpreters for the Tokyo Senbatsu. You worked with the kids more, but I remember seeing you around.” You certainly got along with Mei back then. “And then you were who the Giants sent to interpret for Tetsu during his negotiations.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t there for that.”

“I was there at the airport, and Tetsu told us that he wanted to hire you then, too. Why didn’t you take him up?”

Blowing air, you take to chewing the inside of your cheek and turning your face away from him.

“It wasn’t the right timing. I wasn’t going to be able to interpret for him and finish my program if he was going to San Francisco.”

“So if he went to the Dodgers like I did, would you have accepted?”

“No.” You still don’t face him, but your admission sparks a wave of fluttering in him, only heightened by the cold water at his feet.

“What made you choose me, then?”

At this, you turn, challenging him with a smirk. “You didn’t answer my question.”

His smile grows, knowing full well that you’re avoiding answering his question. “You made it very easy for me to trust you.”

Whatever you thought you were going to hear, it’s clear that wasn’t it. That challenge in your eyes fades, your smile losing its edge as it’s colored by disbelief.

“Why do you ask?”

He watches as you take that disbelief and pocket it away with something more tender, something you’re not ready to be seen just yet. When you meet his eyes again, it’s with the ghost of a smile playing at your lips. “I’ve always been curious.”

“Is that all?”

You pause, eyes flickering across his face before settling on his again. “Yep.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“At least you know when I’m not being honest,” you try, starting to step away from him with a borderline mischievous grin. “Very hard for me to lie to you.”

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering him, you turn forward, allowing a silence to build between you both until he can feel the nervous energy that buzzes around you. Unable to stand it, he closes that distance again, nudging your shoulder as he settles. “Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Yeah, your turn. You turned down Tetsu, so what made you say yes to me?” Was it because the Dodgers are closer or because they’re the team you and your dad have followed or was it timing or…?

“I don’t know. Maybe because you would be close and the timing was right or—”

“You already admitted that proximity wouldn’t have made you say yes to Tetsu. Was it because it was me?”

“Are you kidding? If I knew it was you, I probably would’ve quit working with the league and gotten a position with the university.” Your laugh is a little self-depreciating and he doesn’t know why. “All I know is that we got the call that the Dodgers needed a Japanese interpreter and I jumped at the opportunity because it was something else to put on my portfolio. I didn’t learn they were courting you until I was already on the plane.”

“You seemed just fine when you greeted me that morning.”

“Aha, yeah. I was so nervous, it kinda just slipped out.”

“Were you really that nervous? I honestly never would have guessed.”

“Good to know. I never expected—” Catching yourself, you look at him, clearly hoping he didn’t hear that. “I didn’t say anything.”

“No, you can’t just start that and then pretend like you didn’t say anything.”

“I can and I will.”

“No, for real, you can’t pretend like I didn’t hear that. Finish your thought.”

He watches as you try to edge yourself away, but he’s quick to wrap his arms around your waist to keep you from getting more than two feet away.

“Ooh, no you don’t.”

Squirming in his hold does nothing but make him pull you closer, trapping you against his chest. When he tries to get you to look at him, you hide your face in your palms again, failing this time because you’re still holding your shoes. The more you squirm, the closer he pulls you to him until you’re effectively trapped back to chest, laughing to yourself as he brings his lips level to your ear.

“What didn’t you expect?”

You shiver and he hears a muffled, “You aren’t making this any easier.”

“Why would I do that when you’re trying to hide something from me?”

“I’m not trying to hide anything.”

“Oh, yeah? Then you can tell me, right?”

“Kazuya, please—”

“Kazuya?” You freeze in his arms and his heart stutters in his chest—full-on stalling out, struggling to make it to the next gear, demanding more power to keep going. He hears the apology tumble out of your mouth in a rush, so he tells you, “I like it when you call me that.”

You stiffen for a moment before leaning into him, letting his words sink in, still feeling his warm breath against the exposed skin of your neck. “You— you are very good at making me do stupid things.”

“You mean to say that I bring out an entirely different level of stupid?”

“Shut up.” You push against his arms with no real effort to get away, but he doesn’t want to cross a boundary, so he loosens his grip. Despite the room to move, you lean into him more, staying where you are.

Is this a stupid thing?

“So? What’s this thing you never expected?”

Shuffling where you stand, he expects you to step away. Opening his arms fully, you surprise him, turning around and pressing your forehead against him.

“I never expected your stupid sense of humor or your stupid laugh or your stupid pretty face or that you would be the exact combination of stupid that would make me stupid.” Your voice is soft, lost somewhere between the night and the fabric of his shirt, but he hears you nonetheless.

“I’d be offended right now if you didn’t just say you find me pretty.” He’d be offended right now if you didn’t just suggest what he thinks you’re suggesting.

“You are pretty. It makes me mad.”

“Me being pretty makes you mad?”

“Very mad.” You move to look at him and he’s expecting a pout, not the serious look in your eyes. Your brows furrow and—yup, there it is—your lips turn into a pout as you continue staring before your gaze shifts to his lips. He thinks it’s just gonna be a moment, just a glance, but it’s not.

Shit.

Your lips part, just a little bit, just enough that he’s slowly inching forward and so are you. Just enough so he feels the shaky little exhale before you close the distance, pressing your lips to his.

You’re—soft. Really soft. Soft in the way you’re pressing against him. Soft in the way you feel when his arms close around you, holding you to him. Soft in the way you move your arms so they’re draped over his shoulders, so your shoes tap against his back, so your fingers brush against the hairs at the nape of his neck. Soft in the way your lips move against his, making him dizzy, making him feel, as you so eloquently put it, stupid.

Then there’s that sound you make, something else that’s soft, something between a whimper and a whine before you flick your tongue against his bottom lip.

Shit.

Another sound when he tries to hold you closer, when his palms spread out across your back, when all he can think and feel and breathe is you. Your fingers tangle in his hair before pulling, giving you a whine in turn and he feels you smile before pulling away for air.

Resting his forehead against yours, his senses slowly come back to him, though they’re still primarily focused on you. The feel of the bunching of the fabric of your dress beneath his fingertips, the racing of his heart in his chest, the cool of the water against his feet. The smell of the salty ocean air and that odd combination of sunscreen and your body wash. The lingering taste of you against his lips, and the little craving to taste more. The sounds of the waves, seemingly in the distance when compared to the beating of his heart and your shaky breathing. The sight of you, of your tongue smoothing over your bottom lip before they close, of your eyelashes touching your cheeks in the lighting provided by the waxing moon, of the slow opening of your eyes and the emotions that follow.

He’s never been good at reading people, especially not their emotional state, and he can’t trust himself to get it right at this moment. He wants there to be hope. He wants there to be acceptance. He wants to see the reciprocated feeling of “fucking finally” because that’s what he’s feeling. He wants it so bad that he can’t trust himself to read you right now.

But he does know he’s not imagining it the moment it hits you.

You release his hair before your hand slides back down his chest, coming to rest on your lips.

That surprise. That fear. That—

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry! I’m your interpreter! I shouldn’t—shit. That was so stupid. Please forgive me.”

All the warmth that built up in his chest leaves with the slow sinking of his heart. Of course. Everything comes back to your job.

“I’m not here as your client.”

Oof, that came off a lot harsher than he meant it to be. He hopes that your little flinch is because of the sudden breeze and not because of him. “You’re not my interpreter right now. You’re my friend.”

But that guilt written all over your face doesn’t go away. “I’m—”

“It’s your birthday, right? Happy birthday.”

You turn your gaze down before you turn your head away slightly. His grip around you loosens and this time you take the smallest step back. Dammit.

“Thank you. I—” You won’t even look at him. “Please forgive me.”

He sighs through his nose and he can feel the crease between his eyebrows as it forms. Turning back toward the shore, he slips his hand in yours.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” It definitely comes out as a bite, though (again) he doesn’t mean it as such. That doesn’t deter you from squeezing his fingers.

You trail behind him for only a minute more before quickening your pace and taking your space beside him. As you grow closer to the stairs heading back to the street, you turn, looking toward the solitary tables near the public bathroom.

“You don’t—”

“Let’s sit,” he interrupts, making it known he’s still with you, even if a large part of you seems intent on trying to move past something he’s wanted for the last year and a half now.

When you look at him, it’s with relief, with that stress and second-guessing slowly melting away. “Thank you.”

Maybe he should take the seat opposite you instead of right beside you, but he’s going to be selfish for as long as you’ll let him.

“I’m not ready to go back inside just yet.” You wait for a response and Kazuya decides it’s better if he doesn’t. “Do you mind… you don’t have to, but I’d like to sit out here for a while longer.”

Instead of offering a verbal response, he relaxes, brushing his thumb over your knuckles.

“Thank you. I think… I think I might still be a little buzzed.”

Yeah, you really can’t lie to him.

“I don’t want to go in there when she’s still awake. I might say something stupid.”

That’s more like it, though he wonders if that “something stupid” will end with your friend giving you a lecture or giving one to him. Lecture or not, he’d prefer to keep your attention for himself.

You chatter on for another ten or so minutes, mostly compelled by your wish to move on from what happened, but eventually, you give in to the silence. It’s another couple of minutes before you rest your head on his shoulder. The two of you sit in silence with the soft promise to leave whenever you’re ready.

The sun slowly rises and he still finds himself on the beach with his hand still interlinked with yours, still hoping that this sea salt flavored kiss won't be the only one you two share.

Daiya no Ace Masterlist

#miyuki x reader #miyuki kazuya x reader #daiya no ace x reader #daiya no a x reader #ace of diamond x reader #✒.ix writes #daiya.✒#tti #✒.the catcher's accomplice #title inspired by a tyler knott gregson poem:#I kiss you and on your lips I taste the sea and the sea has always been home to me.#pls their relationship is so complex and there's so much that happens but it's not ready so I have nothing to share but this little bit #;-;#the boy

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abramsbooks · 7 years

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Celebrate National Letter Writing Month with #IReadIndie!

We’re proud to be part of the independent publishing community, promoting titles that breed independent minds, break the mold, and dare to be different. In support of our fellow independents, we’d like to draw attention to big books from smaller publishers across the country. Today, we’re highlighting our best books and products that celebrate the art of letter writing! What are your favorite independent books? Join in on the conversation by using #IReadIndie.

ABRAMS Books

Form Letters by Laura Olin

Have you ever wanted to tell someone you’ve been desperately in love with them for years, or that you hate the sound of their voice, or that you’re really, really, REALLY sorry you threw up on them last night when you were drunk? Form Letters not only offers you a way to do so, but also makes it simple and irresistible. These letters let you privately reflect on all the things you wish you’d said. Or, you can tear the letters out and send them to their intended recipients. Either way, Form Letters offers cathartic, hilarious, and much-needed moments of self-reflection.

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Love Notes: Poems from the Typewriter Series by Tyler Knott Gregson

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I Heart You: 2 Fill-In Books (1 for You, 1 for Me) by Abrams Noterie

Have a heartfelt exchange with your partner or best friend. These identical half-heart-shaped booklets contain fun and thoughtful prompts that invite you and someone special to share what you love best about each other. Fill out one booklet and give the other to a loved one to fill out for you. Then exchange the completed booklets and feel the love! The package comes with two envelopes for mailing or gifting.

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Color-Your-Own Greeting Cards by Caitlin Keegan

Offering a practical twist on the ever-popular coloring book, these 30 ready-to-color cards have images and hand-lettered messages for celebrations big and small throughout the year—including birthdays, weddings, anniversaries, welcoming a new baby, and offering congratulations and thanks—as well as more general all-purpose pictures. Accompanying ready-to-color envelopes mean the completed 5x7 cards will be ready for mailing.

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The Complete Book of Chalk Lettering by Valerie McKeehan

In over 60 lessons, with three foldout “chalkboards” for practice, learn the ABCs of lettering (literally) and basic styles: serif, sans serif, and script. Next, lay out a design, combine various styles into one cohesive piece, add shadows and dimension. Then master more advanced letter styles, from faceted to ribbon to “vintage circus.” It’s everything you need to know to create gorgeous hand-drawn designs.

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Secrets of the Circus by Kate Klise, illustrated by M. Sarah Klise

The members of the world’s friendliest circus must band together and save Gert’s secret pen pal—a pig named Pablo—in Secrets of the Circus, another zany adventure in the Three-Ring Rascals series. Download free stationery and start writing your own pen pal!

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Grove Atlantic

Neither Snow Nor Rain by Devin Leonard

The United States Postal Service is a wondrous American creation. Seven days a week, its army of 300,000 letter carriers delivers 513 million pieces of mail, 40 percent of the world’s volume. It’s far more efficient than any other mail service in the world, and it has a storied history. Founded by Benjamin Franklin, it was the information network that bound far-flung Americans together, fostering a common culture. A first-class stamp remains one of the greatest bargains of all time, yet the USPS is slowly vanishing. Neither Snow Nor Rain is a rich history, full of remarkable characters, from the stamp-collecting FDR, to the revolutionaries who challenged USPS’s monopoly on mail, to the renegade union members who brought the system—and the country—to a halt in the 1970s. An exciting, engrossing read, Neither Snow Nor Rain is the first major history of the USPS in over fifty years.

IndieBound: https://goo.gl/SdNTDh Barnes & Noble: https://goo.gl/R85RZj Amazon: https://goo.gl/OHd8tu

Chronicle Books

Letters to My… Series by Lea Redmond

At once a priceless memento and a journey forward in time, Lea Redmond’s Letters to My… series features innovative books of 12 fold-and-mail style letters, offering a unique way to capture the moment. The bound books include prompted letters to an important person in your life: your future self, your new baby, your grandchild, or your romantic partner. Each blank letter smartly folds out for ease of writing, seals up tightly, and then remains attached to the spine to be opened by the lucky recipient at some point in the future.

Chronicle Books: https://goo.gl/wizJn4 Barnes and Noble: https://goo.gl/gF3xhT IndieBound: https://goo.gl/BDCxJy Amazon: https://goo.gl/VNwUo6

Belle Calligraphy Kit: Materials and Instruction for Modern Script by Maybelle Imasa-Stukuls

The covetable look of calligraphy is now well within reach for even the most novice practitioner. This ready-to-gift box—a brown paper package tied up with string—includes all the materials and technical guidance needed to learn calligraphy in a modern style that embraces the beauty of each person's unique penmanship. Illustrated project ideas show that script, easy as it is, makes everything irresistible.

Chronicle Books: https://goo.gl/5p6vZh Barnes and Noble: https://goo.gl/npJ14D IndieBound: https://goo.gl/8Qphht Amazon: https://goo.gl/DrI3ty

Drop Caps: 100 Postcards illustrated by Jessica Hische

An A to Z of good design, this alphabetically oriented set of 100 postcards features the best hand-drawn letters from Daily Drop Cap, Jessica Hische's popular typography website. Bright colors and highly illustrative letters make a uniquely personal impression in the mail or on display as miniature monograms.

Chronicle Books: https://goo.gl/V4wgV3 IndieBound: https://goo.gl/jn8JeS Amazon: https://goo.gl/cR6qrl

Stay tuned on our blog for another collection from your favorite independent publishers! And don’t forget to use #IReadIndie when you talk about your independent books!

#abramsbooks #abrams books #national letter writing month #ireadindie #i read indie #independent publishers

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