Publication date: November 16th, 2021
Synopsis:
In hindsight, opening a Christmas tree ornament shop in a small town was a terrible idea.
The Thanksgiving turkey is still warm, and I'm already up to my eyeballs in debt from my failed business.
To make matters worse, my knight in flannel never appeared--you know, the guy, the one who was tall, dark, and plaid, who had a friendly yellow lab and a truck and sold firewood, the one who showed the big-city heroine the true meaning of love and Christmas.
Yeah, he did not come rescue me.
Instead, Matt Frost showed up like the Prince of Winter to yell at me about the rent I owed him.
He did not feature in any of my Christmas fantasies. In fact, he was exactly the type of Christmas-hating alphahole billionaire in a suit I left Manhattan to escape.
I can't worry about him.
I need to fix my life.
I have to make a bunch of money before Christmas Eve or I'm a toasted marshmallow.
No ornament will be left off this Christmas tree of desperation!
Gambling on the Christmas raffle that lets you win either ten thousand dollars, a giant snow globe, or a snack-addicted reindeer? Spin that roulette wheel and bring it on.
Moonlighting as an elf for an irate Santa? Mama's gotta get paid.
Entering in The Great Christmas Bake-Off in hopes of winning the grand prize? Fetch me my custom elf apron.
I so have this bake-off wrapped, ribboned, and in my Christmas stocking.
Except when I'm paired with Matt the Grinch, I see my dreams of a debt-free Christmas going up in Yule log flames.
Matt Frost and I are not compatible baking partners.
Especially not after he licks the frosting off my Christmas cookies while I scream.
Not like that! He's a Christmas-hating Scrooge who ruined my bake-off entry.
I am not in the market for a Christmas romance.
Especially not with a six-foot-five guy with ice-blue eyes and washboard abs.
No, not even when he's covered in frosting, standing in front of a decorated tree, and looking better than an edible Christmas card.
Nope, not even then.
'Tis the season for holiday romance! This is a full-length standalone holiday romantic comedy with nonstop Christmas and romance. If you love over-the-top small-town Christmas festivals, overbearing but well-meaning great-aunts, and smoking hot guys in nothing but a Santa hat who will melt the snow off the roof of your house, snuggle up with a spiked hot chocolate and get in the Christmas romance spirit!
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Excerpt
"This is a bomb cookie," I said happily, taking a picture of the finished dessert for Instagram. "I'm totally winning."
A shadow passed over my baking station, and the temperature dropped ten degrees.
"This is your big plot to find my rent money?"
I looked up into Matt's icy blue eyes.
"I have a multipronged approach."
"You need to get a real job," he said curtly. "Running a Christmas ornament shop is not a real job, and neither is participating in a bake-off. You're not winning, and you're delusional if you think so."
"Neither are you," I replied hotly. "They clearly just brought you on as the pretty face. Though why they bothered I'm not sure. Clearly, everyone is going to have eyes for Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Flannel over there."
"Brody?" Matt snarled.
I laughed.
"Isn't he amazing?" I continued, needling Matt.
As if he knew we were talking about him, Brody turned to catch me staring. I blew him a kiss, smirking when Matt growled in annoyance then swooning a little bit when Brody flexed his pec muscles at me. He wasn't wearing a shirt.
"It's not even sanitary," Matt hissed through his teeth.
"Ooh, someone's jealous!"
"I'm not." Matt slammed his hands down on my table.
"Watch it!" I yelled. "You're going to mess up my cookies. I don't want your Christmas-hating cooties all over my dessert."
"Too late," Matt said and picked up the cookie I had just spent ten minutes decorating.
"Don't you dare touch my cookies!" I shrieked.
"A lot of women want me to touch their cookies," Matt said, the corner of his mouth quirking.
"Doubtful," I retorted, grabbing across the table to the cookie.
He held it aloft.
"In fact, they want me to lick them."
"I swear I will have you gutted and stuffed as a Christmas tree ornament," I warned.
"So, you don't want me to lick your cookies?" He gave me a smoldering glare.
Lick my... oh... ohhh... shit.
My face went hot under the stickers, glitter makeup, and hair spray.
No.
Yes.
Maybe?
No, Merrie, jeez!
"I have standards," I told him. "There's only one man here who I'd want to lick my cookies, and it's not you, so give me back that snowman."
"I'm supposed to be judging," he retorted, "and I can't do that without a taste test."
Then he licked my freaking Christmas cookie! Ten whole minutes of frosting work was gone.
"You... you!" I sputtered. "I spent a million years decorating that."
He bit the head off the snowman then tossed it back on the platter.
"That was actually pretty good for a Christmas cookie. I think I might have to lick your cookies again."
"You..." I wanted to curse him out, but we were on live TV, and this was supposed to be a family-friendly program. The cameramen, sensing drama like sharks sensed blood, were hovering around us.
"You... doo-doo head!" Not as satisfying as calling him a fuckface asshole but it would have to do.
Matt snorted. "I think you should stop wasting time on name-calling since you clearly suck at it and get back to baking."
He clapped his hands at me. "Chop chop."
Fuck this asshole.
"Chop this!" I hollered, scooping out a handful of bright-red royal icing and throwing it at him.
Matt cursed, for real, with multiple F-bombs because if you were some sort of moneyed Manhattan type, you did not care about ruining the sanctity of The Great Christmas Bake-Off.
If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!
Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books...
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