Briana has reached the point in life where she measures her days not by hours, but by cups of tea. She lives in a small house filled with too many books, two very opinionated cats, and a habit of misplacing her reading glasses. Her stories lean toward the quiet and peculiar—where ordinary moments hum with a little magic, and contentment hides in plain sight.
When she isn’t writing, she can usually be found in the garden talking to her herbs, arguing gently with one cat while the other looks on in judgment, or sitting by the window watching the weather decide what sort of day it wants to be. She swears she’s slowing down, though her imagination clearly never got the memo.