Juliet blinked, but Sophie, the other clerk, intervened before the moment could become awkward.

—Leave her alone, Juliet. Georgia, welcome home.

Home. As if still calling Poplar Grove home made sense after everything she had lost.

Her great-grandmother Scarlett Stanton’s house remained intact, despite the passage of time. An imposing structure filled with memories, stories, and the scent of old books. The legendary writer had passed away six months ago, leaving Georgia an inheritance she never expected: her literary legacy.

But the publisher didn’t just want to preserve Scarlett’s memory. They wanted her final manuscript.

—It’s a masterpiece, unfinished. —The editor had said it with an enthusiasm that Georgia found almost obscene.

And that was where Noah Harrison came in.

Damn Noah Harrison.

A bestselling author, arrogant, brilliant, and now, the one chosen to complete what Scarlett couldn’t.

—You don’t have a choice, Georgia, —the editor reminded her over the phone—. The publishing house owns the rights. If Noah doesn’t finish it, someone else will.