How can a man work when his sexy neighbor is always naked?
Quaid Marshall's life has hit rock bottom. He's lost the most recent of his dead-end jobs, has been evicted from his apartment, and if not for the charity of his sister, he'd be living under the overpass in a cardboard box. Instead, she's loaned him the use of her Smoky Mountain ski cabin in the woods of North Carolina so he can finish the screenplay he's been avoiding finishing for two years. Since the day he drove the car into that tree, killing his fiancé, David. The day Quaid's life went to hell.
With nothing left to lose, Quaid's determined to finish the stupid screenplay and enter it in the ScreenWay Magazine contest, with its $25,000 grand prize. He knows it's stupid to rely on a contest for income, but his bossy baby sister insists he try, and she's the one paying the bills…
But it isn't going well. His sister neglected to tell him about the next-door neighbor…the incredibly hot, incredibly tall, incredibly buff next-door neighbor…the one who likes to sunbathe in the raw. The one with the incredible package nestled in neatly trimmed dark curls. How the hell was Quaid supposed to write a horror script when all he could think of was the sexy opening of a romantic comedy? And how the hell was he supposed to look himself in the eye every morning in the mirror when he felt so disloyal to David's memory?
Quaid Marshall's life has hit rock bottom. He's lost the most recent of his dead-end jobs, has been evicted from his apartment, and if not for the charity of his sister, he'd be living under the overpass in a cardboard box. Instead, she's loaned him the use of her Smoky Mountain ski cabin in the woods of North Carolina so he can finish the screenplay he's been avoiding finishing for two years. Since the day he drove the car into that tree, killing his fiancé, David. The day Quaid's life went to hell.
With nothing left to lose, Quaid's determined to finish the stupid screenplay and enter it in the ScreenWay Magazine contest, with its $25,000 grand prize. He knows it's stupid to rely on a contest for income, but his bossy baby sister insists he try, and she's the one paying the bills…
But it isn't going well. His sister neglected to tell him about the next-door neighbor…the incredibly hot, incredibly tall, incredibly buff next-door neighbor…the one who likes to sunbathe in the raw. The one with the incredible package nestled in neatly trimmed dark curls. How the hell was Quaid supposed to write a horror script when all he could think of was the sexy opening of a romantic comedy? And how the hell was he supposed to look himself in the eye every morning in the mirror when he felt so disloyal to David's memory?
