Description
On Greensea Island, romance is what Ferry Tales are made of . . .
Jac
It’s been a not-so-great-year. Divorce. Check. Living on pennies. Check. All I need is a quiet summer back at my childhood home on Greensea Island – sitting on the deck with a glass of rosé, savoring one of Dad’s legendary charcuterie boards, and catching up on all the Sherman Family news. But instead, I find myself in an unexpected conversation with a random British guy in my parents’ kitchen who just casually mentioned he’s rented their house for the summer. My carefully laid out plan has just hit a turbulent wave.
Johnny
She honestly doesn’t know who I am. I can see it in her gigantic green eyes. I didn’t get the oh-my-gosh-you’re-Johnny-Nickel eyes or the swoon here-are-my-underpants look. She’s standing at the end of the kitchen counter, brown hair in one of those cattywampus buns, in an oversized white tee hanging off one shoulder and ripped jeans. Looking sexy even if she tried to stab me with a house key when I walked in. I just wonder how long I can keep my identity hidden from her. . .
And now they’re stuck together . . . for better or worse!
Comments