Tangled hearts. Wild unraveling.

Hudson Wild wanted a peaceful afternoon with his fishing pole and zero human interaction. What he got? A ten-year-old kid straight out of Peter Pan, holding a cane pole, and the kind of glare that says, "I've stolen snacks from gas stations and I'd do it again."

Next thing he knows, he's knee-deep in someone else's mess - and somehow, it's the best terrible idea he's ever had.

Then she shows up.

Jowey Ellis: single mom, professional worrier. She storms into his life like a hurricane in combat boots - loud, over-caffeinated, sleep-deprived, and more stubborn than a mule on strike. She greets him with a glare and a weapon.

He offers help. She tells him where to shove it.

He offers help again. She aims for his face.

Romance, obviously, in the air.

Hudson doesn't do emotions, or entanglements, or women who argue like it's foreplay. But her glare starts to feel weirdly comforting, and his quiet boring life? Officially wrecked.

Love doesn't show up when you're ready.

It shows up late, loud, sleep-deprived, and demanding pancakes.

One quiet man. One chaos queen.

One delightfully dysfunctional maybe-love story.