Anchored

I didn’t mean to blurt out that the ridiculously handsome physical therapist at Sunny Shores Retirement Home is my fiancé. (Spoiler alert: he's not.) But hey, at least my grandmother—the one recently diagnosed with dementia—is thrilled for me. Which makes lying to her feel so much worse, especially since my actual love life has sunk to the bottom of the lake.

My favorite memories are those magical summers at Grandma's cabin in Anchor Lake. The ones filled with cannonballs, sunburns, and my first crush. Well, guess who's now renting that very cabin and strutting around like a walking men’s fitness magazine cover? Yep, my childhood crush (aka: the hot physical therapist turned fake fiancé). Except now he comes with bonus muscles and designer glasses that make him look like Clark Kent's hotter cousin. And apparently, he's allergic to shirts. (I'm not complaining, but my ability to form coherent sentences sure is.)

Thanks to the town being packed tighter than a tin of sardines with tourists, we're now playing house in Grandma's cabin. He thinks his ADHD makes him challenging to live with, but after dating my ex (a two-timing toad), this guy's like a breath of fresh air – or maybe that's just the lake breeze talking.

As we investigate Grandma's mysterious health decline and uncover love letters that suggest she was quite the heartbreaker back in the day, I'm starting to wonder: will this fake engagement lead to real heartbreak, or is Anchor Lake about to work its romance magic one more time?

This standalone summer romantic comedy contains excessive shirtlessness, sunburned skin, awkward family dinners, impossibly bendy yoga poses, senior citizen conga lines, eardrum splitting karaoke, and the very real possibility that pretending to be in love might not be pretending after all. Anchored ends with a firework explosion of happily ever after love for all parties involved.