Some people say I'm a workaholic. They claim I need a life, go on a date occasionally.

Some people need to shut up. I can't achieve my goal of securing my position as next-in-line at my dad's company unless I put in the hours. I'll make time for fun and friends once I'm in the corner office.

But my plans take a back seat when my former roommate begs for help in dealing with the shit-show following her husband's sudden death. I rush to quaint MacLeod's Cove to console two little boys swamped with grief and discover a financial mess bordering on catastrophe, to say nothing of the brewing scandal.

Not all doom and gloom though because the small town holds a big surprise. Daniel was a hot and heavy and fun weekend of hotel sex years ago. A notch on my lipstick case – if I had one. But now he's everywhere I turn, in the cafe, at the marina, in my bed.

Maybe it wasn't just a conference fling after all?

All my strategic goals go down the crapper. I'm dividing my focus between my real life in the city, and the fantasy world of sandcastles, sailing, and romance.

It needs to stop or everything I've worked for will be lost.

And maybe it's too late for a second chance.