I don't do Christmas. Haven't since my grandmother died and took all the reasons with her. Now I keep bees, sell honey, and spend December pretending the holidays don't exist. My grandmother's commercial kitchen sits dark in the barn behind my cabin, exactly the way she left it.
When Holly at the bakery asked if the festival's backup caterer could use my kitchen for December, I said sure. Nobody wants a licensed kitchen six miles up a mountain road in winter. Problem solved.
Clementine Rhodes wants my kitchen.
She shows up in my driveway with a van full of baking supplies, a sourdough starter named Dolores, and enough holiday cheer to be classified as a public disturbance. She's loud. She's covered in flour. She sings Christmas carols while she kneads bread at five in the morning. And she fills my grandmother's kitchen with the smell of cinnamon and brown butter like she was born to stand at that counter.
I tell her to keep the music down. She leaves gingerbread on my porch. I tell her to stay out of my honey stores. She makes a lavender honey glaze my grandmother would have killed for. I tell her to stop calling me a fruitcake. She does it again with those flour-dusted dimples and I forget what I was mad about.
She's here for four weeks. Temporary. Holiday help with an expiration date.
I don't do Christmas. I don't do temporary. And I definitely don't do fantasizing about frosting the pretty baker on my grandmother's kitchen counter, but here we are.
She found Maeve's fruitcake recipe on the shelf. She glazed it with my honey. And she looked at me over that pan like I was the only thing in the room worth tasting.
I'm cooked. Literally and otherwise.
Frosting His Fruit Cake is a steamy small-town Christmas romance featuring a grumpy beekeeper who hates the holidays, the curvy sunshine baker who fills his grandmother's kitchen with warmth and trouble, and a legendary fruitcake recipe that proves some things are worth coming back to. Guaranteed HEA with no cheating.
Genre: Romance
When Holly at the bakery asked if the festival's backup caterer could use my kitchen for December, I said sure. Nobody wants a licensed kitchen six miles up a mountain road in winter. Problem solved.
Clementine Rhodes wants my kitchen.
She shows up in my driveway with a van full of baking supplies, a sourdough starter named Dolores, and enough holiday cheer to be classified as a public disturbance. She's loud. She's covered in flour. She sings Christmas carols while she kneads bread at five in the morning. And she fills my grandmother's kitchen with the smell of cinnamon and brown butter like she was born to stand at that counter.
I tell her to keep the music down. She leaves gingerbread on my porch. I tell her to stay out of my honey stores. She makes a lavender honey glaze my grandmother would have killed for. I tell her to stop calling me a fruitcake. She does it again with those flour-dusted dimples and I forget what I was mad about.
She's here for four weeks. Temporary. Holiday help with an expiration date.
I don't do Christmas. I don't do temporary. And I definitely don't do fantasizing about frosting the pretty baker on my grandmother's kitchen counter, but here we are.
She found Maeve's fruitcake recipe on the shelf. She glazed it with my honey. And she looked at me over that pan like I was the only thing in the room worth tasting.
I'm cooked. Literally and otherwise.
Frosting His Fruit Cake is a steamy small-town Christmas romance featuring a grumpy beekeeper who hates the holidays, the curvy sunshine baker who fills his grandmother's kitchen with warmth and trouble, and a legendary fruitcake recipe that proves some things are worth coming back to. Guaranteed HEA with no cheating.
Genre: Romance
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