Heaven was, well, heavenly, George thought. Each day was just as wonderful as the day before-- the sunrise was always a blushing gold, and the sunset was always a drama of orange and black. Not only that, but the grass was always green and smelled of eternal spring, and when George golfed he always won. To top it all off, his wife never whined and his children were always polite.
But after a while, the perfection got somewhat boring. "I really didn't expect that heaven would be so much the same thing all the time," George said to his spirit guide.
The guide looked at him in surprise. "What made you think this is heaven?"
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Fiorella has told you that she's had two romances published by a very good label, but what she hasn't told you is that there's a third book, which she never finished because her husband died in early 2000 and somewhere along the way, she was trapped in a snowstorm and nearly died herself. But a fair amount of time has passed since then and she is thinking about finishing off book number three. We'll see....
In the meantime, your girl is singing with a choir better than she is, staring at all the notes she's hung up on her bedroom wall, writing a blog, arranging her art supplies, doing her laundry, and shuffling back and forth between home and weekly hospital visits. How the heck can Fio make a sexy romance out of this mess?!
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Whew! Fiorella had three different one-hour appointments this afternoon--the blood suckers, the social worker, the physical therapist foot--and SonL was able to get your girl to each one of them on time.
George, the big sweet Persian who seems to be in love with Fiorella, just entered her room, leaped up on her bed, settled down beside her, and is loudly purring his contentment. Ahhh....contentment!
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