Crazy Summer

My friends can say what they want about my three-year dry spell, but I’m not looking for a man. I don't need the drama. Or the sex. I have enough to deal with thanks to my writer's block and a daughter who refuses to grow up. Community. That’s what I need right now. Unfortunately, it seems the universe has other ideas. Either there’s a serious shortage of single women in Chatemup, Massachusetts, or I've become a red-hot magnet for the male race.

At least I’ve found a fun, good-hearted companion here: fishmonger Declan Miller, an adventure buddy who’s also great for brainstorming and knows how to get my creative juices flowing. I'm his “word girl”. He's my “dimples”. Just a regular, scruffy guy, a muscular man with a deep voice, a former soldier who accidentally – oh, Nicole, what are you doing to yourself? – stokes a long-neglected fire within me without even trying.

The divorced single dad makes no secret of the fact that his life is a mess and he's too old for relationship games. He's not interested. Neither am I. So why do I keep thinking about him? And mostly, naked? Is it because my life is a mess too? At least he inspires me to write. I wish real life were more like my novels. Then at least I’d have a better idea of how this is all going to end.