Finally! An Unexpected Love Story

By L. E. Hewitt and Suzanne Purewal

This humorous story is the offbeat and often challenging courtship between two authors, L. E. Hewitt and Suzanne Purewal. Their quirky and sarcastic senses of humor will have you laughing out loud in this, "He Said/She Said," book.

Imagine if you will, a woman from Upstate New York, with twelve years of Catholic school education

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purewal Publishing, LLC
• Release date: Oct 12, 2017
• ISBN: 9780982904879

L. E. Hewitt

Author L. E. Hewitt is a product of the rural Appalachian hills of southwestern Pennsylvania, where he was raised in a family filled with love, laughter, hayfields, music, tater gardens, cows, cats, pigs, dogs, horses, and possums. What more could a feller ask for? As an adult, L. E.'s musical dreams took him to Tennessee where he was able to fulfill many dreams as a studio and road musician before finally settling down to raise a family and run a business. By his mid-forties, he was chasing a new dream. Now, seven books later, he is still bringing laughter and a positive outlook to his readers.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I need to name her. She has suddenly appeared in my life, and I honestly believe that she is meant to be here for a long, long time. So, I need to name her. I name everyone that I write about. It is a way to protect their identity and also a way for me to claim ignorance if they ever try to sue me for any hypothetical likenesses in my books.

Now, what shall I name her? She is so sweet and smart and gorgeous and funny and … and … She is just everything I could have ever asked for, from what I can see so far.

Francesca! Hmmm, that one is classy like her. Mary! No, that just doesn’t feel right. Claudine! Doesn’t sound exciting enough. This name choosing can be hard work. Ah, I have it—Isabella! Classy, beautiful, and Italian, just like her!

Now, you are probably wondering, Who is Isabella?

That story began about thirteen months ago. It was November, and the annual Christmas gift event for hobbies and crafts was taking place just down the road a few miles at the state fairgrounds.

This was a very large gathering of vendors selling their wares to people who were getting a head start on their holiday shopping. I didn’t particularly need anything, but I enjoyed snooping around. I do recall that I almost bought a hoverboard that day. I tested one. It was lots of fun. However, I then remembered that I am in my fifties, and when I fall down nowadays, it hurts a whole bunch more than it used to!

Among the hundreds of booths I visited that day, one caught my attention. It was a local authors’ booth. Of course, being a writer myself, I was drawn to the books, exploring their subject matter.

Seated at one of the tables was Isabella—a dark-haired, blue-eyed, stunningly attractive woman in her mid-forties. We authors are frequently not a very pretty bunch, so this beauty certainly stood out from the usual crowd. I am betting that is why she couldn’t keep her eyes off of me either. I am such a handsome buck! She even had a bit of drool on the side of her mouth, and she kept looking at me like I was the last piece of pie at a Weight Watchers convention.

I chatted with her a bit. She even talked me into buying a book. Next, she wanted my contact information. She said she wanted to discuss me joining this event in the future with my books, but I am no dummy. I knew she was up to something! I wasn’t sure what, but it was something!

I never forgot Isabella. Her photo graced the back cover of the book I had purchased, and every time I came across that darned book, I would pause to look at that picture and be reminded of just how beautiful she was. This could have been where the story ended, but little did I know what was about to unfold.

Chapter 2

Isabella, huh? Okay, I can live with that name. I have been called worse. His memory of the day’s events is a bit muddled, but let’s chalk that up to creative license.

It was Friday, the 13th. (Cue the dramatic music.)

I was handing out bookmarks with my poems on them and rattling off my thirty-second spiel to passersby on why their lives would not be complete until they had read my books.

This tall, handsome man appeared intrigued by my books, or it might have been the hint of cleavage in that day’s outfit. Nevertheless, he purchased my poetry book and informed me that he, too, was a published author.

Excited by the prospect of getting to know another author and having him participate in the show, I used my extroverted nature and charm to convince him to join us the following year. Or then again, it might have been the cleavage.

I do not recall any drooling on my part. A lady does not drool. And I hate pie. I am more of a chocolate cake, chocolate torte, or a warm, ooey, gooey brownie type of person. Although, I might have licked my lips as my mind said to itself, Ooo, he’s yummy.

Anyway, I think he needs a name too. I narrowed it down to Lars and Lancelot. Upon careful deliberation, I decided on Lancelot. (Insert a trumpet flourish here.)

And time passed …

Exactly one year later, on Sunday, the 13th, as I set up the booth for the last day of the Annual Christmas Gift & Hobby Show, at the Indiana State Fairgrounds, I switched the seating arrangement for two of the authors. I can not explain why I did it. It could have been karma or divine intervention. Either way, something urged me to do it. That placed Lancelot next to me.

After five days of hawking books and standing on concrete, I was tired. But I did my best to talk to Lancelot in between engaging potential customers. He seemed quiet and reserved. But when he got going on his stories, his eyes lit up, and he became quite animated. He was witty, contemplative, and most of all, he made me laugh. And when Lancelot mentioned he was from Pennsylvania, I knew we would be great friends. Being from New York, us East Coasters always seem to find one another, and we get along splendidly!

We discussed getting together to chat about writing sometime. Authors and poets do that sort of thing. That helps us feel less misunderstood and that we don’t belong on the Island of Misfit Toys.

With an hour left in the day, my boyfriend showed up. That put a damper on chatting with Lancelot. Yes, I had a boyfriend. However, we had only been dating for two weeks. So, it was not a serious relationship. And deep down, I knew his days were numbered. He had issues, and we did not have common interests. Anyway …

When the show ended, my fellow authors helped break down the booth and pack everything in my SUV. During this chaotic flurry of activity, Lancelot reminded me about getting together to discuss writing. I told him we would have to schedule something soon, and we all went our separate ways.

Around Thanksgiving, Lancelot contacted me. My parents were in town. So, I told him we would get together after they left.

More time passed …

On December 13th, Lancelot posted a funny meme on his Facebook page. I sent him a message commenting on it. And so, the banter for our