About the Book
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.
Kissing Bennet is like stepping into the lake. At first shocking, then slowly I acclimate until I’m sinking into the luxury of it. His hand wraps around my ribs, right below the swell of my breast, and I’m in way over my head, drowning in the sensations that overrun my body. No one has ever kissed me like this. Not even Andrew in all my wildest fantasies. Andrew. Andrew! Oh my gosh, what am I doing?
“Bennet?” I say, pushing myself away from him.
His breath is hot against my goose-bumped flesh, and a tingle of electricity races down my spine as his hand cradles the back of my neck. “Hmmm?” His eyes are still on my lips.
I keep my palm against his chest to maintain some distance. “I’m sorry. I don’t do things like this.”
“Well, you can not do it again, if you’d like.”
“What I mean is––” I smile despite my misgivings. Andrew’s had fun with other girls and it’s never made me think I don’t want a future with him. If I should have fun with Bennet, why should that keep Andrew from someday wanting me?
“It’s just that I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”
“If that kiss is any indication, I think you are entirely wrong about that.” Bennet’s voice is low and throaty. He lifts his head, and a tiny smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. His hand cups my face, and his thumb strokes a line across my cheekbone.
“But if you’re not sure of yourself, D’Arcy, this island is the perfect place to figure it out.” He hesitates, and we lock eyes. Something shifts in me. The last remnants of uncertainty slip away.
“Listen,” he says. “I know we’ll blink our eyes, summer will be over, and you’ll be heading back to your life, and I know that’s nothing I’d ever go back to... We’ve got limited time, but we should do something with it, don’t you think?”
About the Author
A. S. Green lives in the cold upper Midwest with her husband and three children. She spends summers on Lake Superior, which is the muse for Summer Girl, and she is a sucker for down-to-earth heroes who work with their hands (if they play guitar, that’s an added bonus). She enjoys all things Irish––particularly music, dancing, and Jameson. When she’s not writing or reading romance, she’s traveling, camping, blogging for Writer Unboxed, and writing YA (under her real name).