Can desperation make you delusional?

I flew across the country with one goal in my mind... finish my book... and perhaps lick the wounds of my shredded heart. My editor was screaming for the first draft, my agent was nagging for teasers, and my publisher was reminding me that my strict deadline was only weeks away. However, there was a dilemma: I had writer's block. Not a little spanner thrown into the works writer's block. Writers. Block.

Just as I was about to call in defeat, I spotted him: the bearded, tattooed man who lives in the glasshouse next door. He was in a lust-filled twist with a pretty blonde who had buxom bosoms and legs that went for miles.

I should have looked away.

I should have respected his privacy.

I should NOT have taken detailed dot points on his impressive technique, well-carved physique, and droplets of sweat running down his tattooed torso, but each thrust of his hips had words flowing quicker than I could write them.

He was my inspiration.

My muse.

My next alpha male book boyfriend.

Everything was perfect... until the bearded stranger spotted me spying on him.

*

For TWs please visit the author's website. Please note this book can be read as a standalone