Heather Heyford learned to walk and talk in Texas, then moved to England. (“Y’all want some scones?”) While in Europe, Heather was forced by her cruel parents to spend Saturdays in the leopard vinyl backseat of their Peugeot, motoring from one medieval pile to the next for the lame purpose of “learning something.” What she soon learned was how to allay the boredom by stashing a Cosmo under the seat. Now a recovering teacher, Heather writes love stories, feeds hardboiled eggs to suburban foxes, and makes art in the Mid-Atlantic. She is represented by the Nancy Yost Literary Agency.