Long Story Short

I came to the Hamptons for one reason: to fix my broken manuscript. No distractions. No detours. Just me, my deadline, and a love story I can’t seem to get right.

But I didn’t plan on Tyson Bishop. My dangerously charming, infuriatingly confident neighbor has a habit of showing up exactly when I should be working—and with a way of looking at me like he knows how to unravel me. Every smirk feels like a dare. Every touch lasts a second too long.

I tell myself I can handle this. Him. That this is just the kind of connection my story is missing. Showing me what it feels like to be wanted. To be consumed.

But somewhere between late nights and heated touches, the things I feel for Tyson stop feeling like inspiration…and start feeling real.

Long story short, I came here to write a love story. I just didn’t expect to start living one.