Summary: Gabriella Montez is a, usually, successful writer, who writes her books about events that occur during her own life. By changing names and replacing real characters with fictional ones, she creates stories that are both enjoyable to read—and easy to write. Unfortunately, she seems to be suffering from an intense case of writers block- and a dull life. Her name is being forgotten, and her rent is hardly getting paid-- saved by a less than satisfactory job at the nearest book store. But can a certain blue-eyed bartender begin to save her career, whilst spicing up both her love and daily life, with just a single ride home from the local pub?

Main Character Pairings: Troyella

Genre: Romance/Drama

Rating: T

Author's Note: Oh jeez, I'm starting another story. Someone hit me! This one is a little different for me—not being fantasy and all...Still, it seems fun. Let's see..where and when did I think this up...Driving home from Wegman's with my mom around 5...thinking about finishing a chapter of my other story...yep. Ha. I'm gonna try this is Gabriella's P.O.V. I might change it later if that doesn't work out...ANYWAYS..here's the prologue :) ...peace out!

I stared blankly at the row of books before me, each spine reflecting the color of the cover, which would hold a design or picture trying to allure someone into reading it. I let my fingers brush the worn fabric that protected the pages from the dust and basic erosion that was brought upon them every time someone cracked them open. I plucked one off the shelf, careful in case it was indeed as old as it looked, and if so, I wanted to avoid spilling the detached pages across the blue carpet of this out-dated bookstore.

The edges looked like crumpled paper and frayed cloth, the pages were a dull yellow, and it had a musty smell that made me crinkle my nose and hold the book away. When I turned the to a page that seemed to be in the middle, the first section of the book lay limply in my hand, hardly supported by the discombobulated spine.

So far, I loved this book. My attention aroused, I collapsed into the ugly-brown recliner set up for costumers and began to read the ancient words.

Here's the thing; I love, love, love old books. The more worn-out, mildew-smelling, and all around abused the book is, the more I want to read it. Of course, the story's quality counts, but first impressions are important. I get the whole "don't judge a book by it's cover," thing, but if I don't like the way the book looks, I just can't really bring myself to read it.

I 'd been unnaturally picky when it came to books during that time, so not many books made it from work to my own shelf at home. I was looking for something, something that I'd never needed before, and I was looking for it in places that I'd never dreamed of looking.

I was looking for inspiration for my own story. And I was looking for it in someone else's book. So, for the sake of my own unwritten and undecided plot, I needed a good book to read. I'd never needed inspiration before; I'd always had something to write about when I wanted to write. I write about my own life, so all I need to do is think back on the past few months and boom- I've got a story.

My name is Gabriella Montez, I'm twenty-six, I live in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and I've had two books published in my lifetime. The first was when I was six-teen, and my father went away to war. As you can imagine, the book was about a girl struggling with teenage drama, her mother's depression, and her father's absence.

The second was when I was eight-teen, and my mother died of cancer. That one was about a girl who's mother dies (surprise!), leaving her to deal with an alcoholic boyfriend (who she later dumps), and the temptation of turning to drugs and alcohol herself.

Okay, so, I do exaggerate my life a bit, for the sake of keeping my readers interested.

But the thing is, this time, I've got nothing to exaggerate.

Everything you read from here on out is the truth, only the truth, and nothing but the truth.

If your worried now that you'll get bored because, let's face it, life isn't all that it's cracked up to be, don't be discouraged. Personally, I'm pretty sure it's not the heroine of this story, but the hero, that makes it so...inviting.

Because Troy Bolton never once gave me a a reason to be bored—sad, occasionally, happy, constantly, and interested, forever more.

Everyone has a cure for their own writer's block, though it is sometimes hard to find. The basic formula is motivation, inspiration, and excitement. For me that equals Troy Bolton, Troy Bolton, and Troy Bolton.

Troy Bolton and his sleek, black, smooth Chevy Volt.