EXCERPT

PROLOGUE

The words jumped off the page as though its author had inked it in neon. Morgan rolled her eyes in annoyance, in spite of the fact that the name Barry Wells held no meaning other than one more prospective tenant for the summer.

Profession: Music Business.

There was just no getting away from them, was there?

She proceeded to stuff his handwritten letter back into the envelope, the balance unread. Typical artist, she had already labeled him. Not even the common sense to borrow a computer and peck out a professional intro. If she felt like spending the energy, she could also hazard a guess what he looked like.

Definitely not the type she wanted to share a roof with for three months, much less listen to incessant hours of practice toward a career that would probably never ignite.

Downstairs, the clock was chiming three. Where had the afternoon gone? Suddenly conscious that she'd skipped lunch in deference to re-writes on the new script, Morgan tossed the envelope atop the ominously growing stack of bills. A mild expletive escaped her lips.

Whoever had told her that life in the Pacific Northwest was like a day at the beach had clearly been lying. Or at least fudging on the reality about day-to-day expenses.

"You're the one who had to go live on an island," she could hear her mother say, punctuating it with a heavy Jewish sigh that mingled pity and censure. As recently as yesterday, she'd said it again on the phone and asked her whether she’d given any more thought to moving back to New York.

"It's my life," Morgan always retorted. "I'm happy."

Even on an island, though, there was no escaping the pain of a broken heart.