LEASE ON LOVETwo strangers. One double-booked apartment. And a blue tape line that's about to be crossed. Chloe Winters is a "serene goddess" of yoga who believes in signs, tie-dye, and the restorative power of sage. When she finds the perfect Seattle apartment, she thinks the Universe has finally delivered-until she walks in and finds a man conducting a literal murder investigation in her kitchen.
Liam Davis is a cynical, structured murder-mystery author who believes in contracts, deadlines, and absolute silence. He doesn't have time for "healing frequencies, " "vibe vampires, " or a roommate who dresses like a radioactive lemon. Trapped by a rental scam and a city-wide storm, the two strike a thirty-day truce:Stay on your side: The apartment is strictly divided by blue painter's tape. No fire: Liam's lungs-and the smoke alarm-can't handle the sage.
No talking while eating: Unless it's discussing how to dispose of a fictional body. But as the rainy Seattle nights stretch on, the boundaries start to blur. Between "shake-it-out" dances, secret skincare routines, and a shared mission to save a dying fern named Bernie, Liam realizes that the chaos he's spent his life avoiding is the only thing making him feel alive. Can a man who writes about death learn to live? Or will the reality of their temporary lease tear them apart before the final chapter?
LEASE ON LOVETwo strangers. One double-booked apartment. And a blue tape line that's about to be crossed. Chloe Winters is a "serene goddess" of yoga who believes in signs, tie-dye, and the restorative power of sage. When she finds the perfect Seattle apartment, she thinks the Universe has finally delivered-until she walks in and finds a man conducting a literal murder investigation in her kitchen.
Liam Davis is a cynical, structured murder-mystery author who believes in contracts, deadlines, and absolute silence. He doesn't have time for "healing frequencies, " "vibe vampires, " or a roommate who dresses like a radioactive lemon. Trapped by a rental scam and a city-wide storm, the two strike a thirty-day truce:Stay on your side: The apartment is strictly divided by blue painter's tape. No fire: Liam's lungs-and the smoke alarm-can't handle the sage.
No talking while eating: Unless it's discussing how to dispose of a fictional body. But as the rainy Seattle nights stretch on, the boundaries start to blur. Between "shake-it-out" dances, secret skincare routines, and a shared mission to save a dying fern named Bernie, Liam realizes that the chaos he's spent his life avoiding is the only thing making him feel alive. Can a man who writes about death learn to live? Or will the reality of their temporary lease tear them apart before the final chapter?