85 books like Moose Be Love

Small town that you will want a realtor for: Mirror Valley, CO

What I love about Woodley’s books is that you completely forget you're reading a book at all. Her writing is like listening to one of your closest friends tell you a story, and I mean that in the best way possible. The Next Worst Thing is no exception.

I found myself making up all kinds of excuses to avoid housework, errands, and other chores, so I could spend more time with this super sweet small-town romance. And yes, it’s also a rom com, so you might get some concerned looks from family members as you actually laugh out loud.

Small town that you will want a realtor for: Cashmere Cove, WI

If you love grumpy/sunshine, fierce sisterly love, and wholesome midwest towns, this is the book for you. Dobrinska does a wonderful job of creating likable characters and a feel-good storyline with tons of delightful twists and turns.

It’s so gosh darn good! I am talking stay-up-way-too-late-reading good. And while I have never been to Wisconsin in my life, after reading Friends Don’t, I am ready to change that!

Small town that you will want a realtor for: Hunter’s Creek, WA

Okay, not only is this book super sweet, but it’s hilarious. I felt like I was hanging out with friends as I laughed out loud throughout the story. You can bet Faking It With The Grump has a small town you’ll love just as much as the characters.

Not to mention, if you’re like me and fall for side characters just as hard as you do the main ones, you’re going to adore this book! Seriously, where is Hunter’s Creek exactly, and when can I visit it?

Small town that you will want a realtor for: Ponderosa Falls, CO

Even though I haven't asked for a pony for Christmas in years, I still adore reading horse and ranch books. Falling Slow totally hits the spot with its original and heartfelt story. Family resort? Check. Horses? Check. Lovable characters? Check!

I really didn’t think that was possible, but like my love for dessert, my obsession with this story kept reaching new and amazing levels. I didn’t want the story to end, and I can’t wait to dive into book two. (Cowboy) hats off to Muse!

This spectacular collection of award-winning short stories set in Anchorage is probably my favorite book of the past two years. Newton is the only one of these five authors whom I’ve never met, so I can say with complete neutrality that these stories make up the most memorable depiction of urban Alaskan life anywhere: doctors with expensive float planes and more expensive mistresses, a disturbed suburban clairvoyant, even one historical flashback to the mudhole the city was founded upon in 1915. Hilarious at times, but also a reminder to me that Alaska has always attracted a certain type of misfit politely referred to as “adventurous,” but often seen as simply “nuts.” Myself included.

I fell in love with Kate Shugak as soon as I met her on the page.

Kate's an Aleutian private investigator who lives with Mutt, her half-wolf, half-husky, on a 160-acreage homestead in Alaska. Do you know why Kate carries a scar from ear to ear? Do you know why Kate and Mutt's nearest other neighbors are a grizzly bear and a moose, and why they like it that way?

If so, you probably know how everyone turns to Kate for justice and that this very first book won an Edgar Award. Maybe you, like me, have read all 26 books in this series. High five.

The initial hook in Still Points North was, for me, the opening and its description of the 4-seat plane that the author often flew in with her father. I flew in one when I went to Denali for field research for my novel, and it became not just one of those memories I’ll never forget but also experiential data for my book. I also appreciated how the author so eloquently describes the landscape, comparing and contrasting life in the wilderness with life on the East Coast. But what most impressed me was her revelation, which coincides with the experiences of my novel’s protagonist, that relationships can sometimes be more frightening and challenging than Alaska’s natural savagery.

Set in Southeast Alaska, Jimmy Bluefeather honestly depicts both environmental and generational change.

A Tlingit-Norwegian canoe carver anticipates the end of his life while his grandson struggles with his own future and a whale biologist resists authority in favor of moral action. Heacox grounds his beautifully-written story in considerable research as well as with respect for cultural beliefs and practices.

The canoe carver in particular is well-drawn and memorable, with toughness, resilience, and humor earned from living close to the Earth and its waters, in a place of stories. A canoe journey carries the story into a wild landscape, questions about conflicts between economic development and the preservation of lands and cultural values, and understandings of human frailty and strength. 

I’m recommending Raven Stole the Moon for a few reasons. First, it addresses maternal guilt and loss, which are important themes in my novel. Second, it incorporates Native Alaskan mysticism, drawing on the author’s Tlingit heritage. I am always intrigued by spiritual lore, and one of my characters, who also has a Native Alaskan background, relies on nature to anticipate—or even predict—the future. And finally, I’m an overall fan of the author (who also wrote The Art of Racing in the Rain) and found the book to be entertaining—and let’s face it, entertainment is one of the key reasons we read!

Hoping to gain perspective on his troubled marriage, the deaths of friends, and the vagaries of middle age, charter-boat captain Lynn Schooler commits to a walkabout along the “Lost Coast,” one of Southeast Alaska’s wildest stretches.

What begins as a voyage of introspection soon becomes a grueling march—through pelting rain, jungle-like brush, and ankle-busting boulder fields—that climaxes in a long face-off with a rogue bear and the terrifying crossing of a meltwater torrent.

Just getting to this trail-less wilderness in Glacier Bay National Park tests Schooler's mettle; waves pound his small vessel, and boat-swallowing currents threaten his entry into Lituya Bay. On my Brooks Range traverse, I too was moving steadily toward home (in my case, Nome) a knowledge that powered each step and oar stroke.