A songwriter is nothing without his muse. Sucks that mine turns out to be Katherine D’Arcy––hot as hell, but the very definition of country-club living and everything I came to this quiet little island to escape. The last thing I need is some live life by her day-planner summer girl screwing with my head, but I can’t stop thinking about her…those curves, silky brown hair, and those eyes… I left that privileged world behind when I came up to Little Bear Island hoping for some inspiration to write my songs. But here I am still, two years later, unable to write crap. That is until Katherine showed up to tend the lighthouse for the summer and drive me crazy. With her here, the writing has never been better. If only there weren’t that one inconvenient truth I’ve been keeping from her… Because when she learns what I’ve been hiding, I know I will lose her forever.