Hi—
The best thing in your snail mail all month.
An escape from digital chaos.
A parcel arrives with your name on it. Chapters of a mystery and a love story nobody saw coming, a personal letter to you, signed and sealed, notes on what actually happened, and things made by hand that exist nowhere else. You belong.
Not ready? We’ll mail you a letter first. Send me a letter →
This is the moment when Jules told Nini about the idea for the first time.
What people have written back to us.
“My daughter and I are both getting it. We're four hundred miles apart and we read the same chapters the same week and then we talk about the mystery - and the hidden love story. ----- That's the part I didn't expect.”
— Janet
“Jules, you are an amazing writer. Every darn paragraph pulled me in with the descriptive writing. I felt as if I was right there … noticing everything about J.D., and coaxing the cat from under the plants.”
— Joyce, after Month One
“I keep thinking the dog knows. About Tommy, I mean. The way he moves when she goes quiet. I'm probably reading into it. ---- I'm going to keep reading into it!”
— Sonja
It made the local news.
In June 2026, ABC 7 and Fox 22 in Bangor ran a story about a mother and daughter who write a novel together and mail it, by hand, to people they've yet to meet.
From Cumberland, Maine, and Woburn, Massachusetts
I’m Jules. My mother and I are the ones making it. Her grandkids call her Nini, and it stuck. Once a month, between my kitchen table and hers, Maine to Massachusetts, a parcel goes out to places all across the country.
We started this on a drive to Florida, after my dad passed away — for reasons that didn’t have anything to do with writing a book. My mom got me a speeding ticket. Something happened on that drive that’s hard to explain in a paragraph, so I wrote a letter about it. It’s two pages.
It says everything.
Book One
Dear Tommy
A detective who quit. A mother who won’t let her. And a man she never told.
In “Dear Tommy,” Jules Moretti left the police force after her partner was killed on a case she was running. Ten months later she is not going back — until her mother, a retired English teacher who reads two mysteries a week and considers this fieldwork, decides otherwise.
It is a mystery, and a love story nobody saw coming — including them. Written by a real mother and daughter, one in Maine and one in Massachusetts, about a mother and daughter. Every month the letter inside tells you which parts were true.
Everything that leaves Cumberland, Maine, was touched by a human before it reached your mailbox. It was addressed by hand. The personal letter inside was sealed by hand — by my mother, by me, or by our family — in wax, before it left.
You bring it in. You set it on the kitchen counter. You let it sit there, sometimes for hours, because you already know what's inside is the kind of thing you want to be ready for. When you open it, you do it with your cup of tea. Or your glass of wine. The way one Keeper put it: I took it to my chair by the window. I didn't open my phone once.
For the time between mailings.
Everyone reading Dear Tommy is somewhere in it right now — in kitchens and chairs and by windows, scattered across the country. We call them Keepers. That's what you'd be.
The Reading Room is where Keepers find each other. Some share what they're thinking. Some debate where the story should go. Some write back to Jules and Nini. Some read along quietly, never posting a word. Some simply receive the parcel each month and let the rest pass by.
All of it counts.
Some read it with their mother. Some with a sister, a cousin, or a friend three states away — two parcels arriving in two mailboxes, and something to talk about that isn’t the weather. Or come alone, and meet people who feel like old friends.
The Reading Room is offered, not required.
Your words.
In the book.
Twelve dollars a month, for as long as you stay.
The founding rate. Not a trial price. Not a first-year price.
When there are more than we can address ourselves, the price for new subscribers goes to fifteen. Yours stays at twelve.
Book One is ten parcels long. Book Two begins in the last one.
Cancel anytime if you ever want to stop.
This is Jules's dog, Taffy. Here's what he sees.
There's no such thing as late
None of you are together. All of you are.
Still thinking about it?
No rush. We'll send you a letter — a real one, by snailmail or email — so you can hold it before deciding.
The contents of the parcels are fun to imagine and put together, and we've been hearing wonderful things from Keepers about them. The story is fiction — though you'd be surprised how much of it is true. It's written for people who are ready to slow down long enough to let a story find them.
If that's you — or someone you know — we'd love to have you along.
We're waiting for you. You belong here.
Peace & Togetherness,
Jules & Nini
P.S. Know a mother and daughter who'd love this? Or sisters, or old friends? Tell them. The best things still travel by word of mouth.
More from Keepers.
“I drop everything when this is in my mailbox!”
— Kris
“Your mystery-romance book is one I could read again, and I never read a book more than once! I look forward to the next chapters.”
— Karen
- Choosing a selection results in a full page refresh.
- Opens in a new window.