Stuck With My Summer Catch
(2026)(The second book in the Seasons of Second Chances series)
A novel by Violet McBride
I have 90 days to write a book. I need silence. I need solitude. I need the woman next door to stop playing the ukulele at 7 AM.
Three years ago, I lost my husband. Everyone says I'm "handling it so well." What they mean is: I smile, I show up, I mother the heck out of my seven-year-old, and I never, ever fall apart.
I am falling apart.
This summer was supposed to be different. Me and Luna at Marco's old lake cottage. Painting. Swimming. Healing.
Then Callum Whitaker shows up with his scowl and his laptop and his rental agreement that apparently supersedes my reservation because his agent is a bully and I forgot to update the booking calendar.
He's a bestselling thriller writer. He hasn't written a word in two years. He hates noise, children, and sunshine. He's living twelve feet from a woman and child who are nothing but noise and sunshine.
He bought Luna a journal. He taught her the word "superfluous." He fixed our dock without being asked.
I hate him. I hate that my daughter adores him. I hate that when he reads to her at bedtime, his voice goes soft in a way that makes my chest ache.
I hate that he's the first person who's seen through my smile and said, "You don't have to pretend with me."
One lake house. One summer. One chance to stop performing and start living.
Genre: Romance
Three years ago, I lost my husband. Everyone says I'm "handling it so well." What they mean is: I smile, I show up, I mother the heck out of my seven-year-old, and I never, ever fall apart.
I am falling apart.
This summer was supposed to be different. Me and Luna at Marco's old lake cottage. Painting. Swimming. Healing.
Then Callum Whitaker shows up with his scowl and his laptop and his rental agreement that apparently supersedes my reservation because his agent is a bully and I forgot to update the booking calendar.
He's a bestselling thriller writer. He hasn't written a word in two years. He hates noise, children, and sunshine. He's living twelve feet from a woman and child who are nothing but noise and sunshine.
He bought Luna a journal. He taught her the word "superfluous." He fixed our dock without being asked.
I hate him. I hate that my daughter adores him. I hate that when he reads to her at bedtime, his voice goes soft in a way that makes my chest ache.
I hate that he's the first person who's seen through my smile and said, "You don't have to pretend with me."
One lake house. One summer. One chance to stop performing and start living.
Genre: Romance