I, Taylor Elizabeth Bennett, did it. I marched myself over to Sepia Stills and demanded Levi Moore tell me whether he was gay or not. Turns out, he’s not. So of course, I don’t see him again until my brother’s wedding, two months later. We’re both in the wedding party – yay us! – but I’m less than delighted to see him. After all, he never called. He never wrote. He didn’t even walk across the street from his shop to mine, Bubbles. Plus, I have the sneaky suspicion that it wasn’t something I ate making me sick. What are we to do? Start a relationship, of course. Easier said than done, when you start with world-class shenanigans which results in a complication or three – like pregnancy, for instance. A new ability to sense, see and communicate with ghosts, and, last but not least, your crazy families and ex’s. But what the heck? Entertainment this good is hard to come by in the tiny town of Gable Cove, Texas.
I write. It's a sanity saving thing. Living in a sea of testosterone with 1 hubby, 3 sons, and 1 brother-in-law, the only other females who live with us are the dogs and cat. Is it any wonder I write romance and eat chocolate? In and around writing, I enjoy adventures with my family, train laundry (Sooner or later it will learn to do itself. Right?), clean my house, feed my family, provide bus service (I sure hope this minivan doesn't make my butt look fat.), chat with my friends, do crafts, read voraciously, and on the occasions when my loving spouse has abandoned the remote, I watch TV. Sleep is optional. That's why caffeine was invented.