I never asked for much out of life—just a quiet tower above my bookshop, a bow tie collection, and the peace of knowing every book spine is perfectly aligned on the shelf. Romance is something that happens in novels, not in real life, certainly not to men like me.
Then he walked in. Cody Cameron. Sunburnt, swaggering, Australian, and already knocking books off my shelves like some chaotic force of nature. He’s loud where I’m quiet, messy where I’m meticulous, and yet… I can’t stop looking at him. He makes me laugh, he makes me furious, and he makes me wonder...
BROOKS
I never asked for much out of life—just a quiet tower above my bookshop, a bow tie collection, and the peace of knowing every book spine is perfectly aligned on the shelf. Romance is something that happens in novels, not in real life, certainly not to men like me.
Then he walked in. Cody Cameron. Sunburnt, swaggering, Australian, and already knocking books off my shelves like some chaotic force of nature. He’s loud where I’m quiet, messy where I’m meticulous, and yet… I can’t stop looking at him. He makes me laugh, he makes me furious, and he makes me wonder if maybe, just maybe, I could one day step outside the safety of my tower.
CODY
I’ve been wandering the world with nothing but my backpack and my trusty compass, writing stories about places most people never see. I thought Mulligan’s Mill would just be another stopover, another quaint small-town article for one of my freelance travel stories.
But then I met Brooks Beresford—the bow-tied bookshop owner who looks at me like I’m a tropical cyclone he never invited in. He’s stubborn, sharp, and somehow the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen fuss over a misfiled paperback. I’ve never stayed in one place for long, but something about Brooks makes me think about words I don’t often use in my vocab… words like home.
