Cord Baker took her coffee black for the third morning in a row, because her sister had left the milk out again. And for the third morning in a row, she sat in her breakfast nook and watched as a man slid out of her neighbor’s bathroom window. As a psychiatrist, she generally refrained from passing judgment in cases such as these, despite the fact that her neighbor was a slut and this kind of thing happened all the time. But then again, the man in question usually wasn’t a midget. Or blue. So as she sipped her lukewarm coffee in the privacy of her own nook, Dr. Cordelia Baker allowed herself to that is so weird. He wore a shiny blue Speedo the same shade as his skin. Even his hair was blue. As he fought his way out of the rhododendron, he suddenly stopped and looked at Cord’s window. The glare from the morning sun would be bouncing off the glass at this hour, making it impossible to see inside, but Cord couldn’t escape the feeling that he was looking right at her. As a psychiatrist, Dr. Cordelia Baker understands the limitations of the human mind when dealing with stress. But that's a tough pill to swallow for a control freak who is losing control of her own life, courtesy of her flaky sister, a sex-crazed midget, a dirty cop, and a handsome agoraphobic travel writer. Oh, and one of them is a ghost. (Or maybe a hallucination?) Yeah, well...sanity is overrated, but love isn't. As a psychiatrist, Dr. Cordelia Baker understands the limitations of the human mind when dealing with stress. But that's a tough pill to swallow for a control freak who is losing control of her own life, courtesy of her flaky sister, a sex-crazed midget, a dirty cop, and a handsome agoraphobic travel writer. Oh, and one of them is a ghost. (Or maybe a hallucination?) Yeah, well...sanity is overrated, but love isn't.