I had waited two long years to go back to the Andes and my beloved, beautiful Quechua people.
But one of the very serious downsides to being up at altitudes of 11,000 to 15,500 feet is a well known malady known as "altitude sickness".
Guess who got it and got shut down for a few days?
I was in a wicked brain fog, combined with chest pain and was as weak as could be.
I'd brought a few books to read on the trip, but usually when we're up in the villages, there is NO time to read.
But, when you're on forced bed rest at the very nice, but very VERY basic hostel, there is ample time to catch up on your reading.
So what did I pull out of my suitcase???
Joanne Bischof's debut novel.
I'll skip the high praise and platitudes that everyone who's read this book is heaping on Joanne, and simply tell you this.
I read this book in two shots.
Why two? Because the altitude sickness made me so tired, I fell asleep with the book in my hand.
Sorry, Joanne, but the brain was done.
I loved the way Joanne wove the story together, and didn't make the hero perfect. I loved the colour she infused in her story world and I loved that the heroine ACHED, but still kept going.
This book is worth every penny!!
I had a chance to ask Joanne a few questions, so here is our discussion and please refrain from your cheering until we're done...I'm used to the screaming crowds, but Joanne is a woman of refinement and elegance and would appreciate polite applause and at least one well placed curtsy.