Rating: 4 out of 5 stars
Kiss The Cook
Length:
56 pages
36 minutes
Description
Thanksgiving dinner is no stress when you hire a great chef – one that gives you plenty to be thankful for. Marco is hired by Amanda to rescue her from the big Thanksgiving dinner she’s hosting. Amanda’s all business, but Marco shows her the way to a woman’s heart–and bed – is paved with a great dessert.
About the author
Britt DeLaney lives and writes near Philadelphia. In her spare time she watches too much Netflix, eats too many Pop-Tarts, and is currently writing her ass off.
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Kiss The Cook - Britt DeLaney
Kiss The Cook
Britt DeLaney
Copyright 2019 Britt DeLaney Books
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
About the Author
Other Books by Britt DeLaney
Novellas by Britt DeLaney
Find Britt on Social Media
Dedication
This book is for anyone who realizes that the fastest way to a woman’s bed is a quick wit and a killer dessert.
Chapter 1
"You’ve got to be kidding me."
Amanda Murphy took one long head-to-toe look at the man before her and shook her head. There’s no way you’re a chef.
I have my ID from the culinary academy,
the man said wryly. He dug in his pocket for his wallet and pulled out the card, handing it over. Amanda held it up.
Marco De—DeBuh--
DeBaptista.
He took the card back. Just like it’s spelled.
She narrowed her blue-grey eyes. Aren’t you a little old to be a student?
I’m not a student. I’m an instructor.
Your website said I’d get to choose from a team of three.
It’s Thanksgiving Day and you called the office at four o’clock yesterday afternoon,
Marco pointed out. The students are home with their families today, so you get what’s available. Me.
Amanda gave him another once-over. He wasn’t even wearing a chef’s toque. He had a bandana on his head that featured pirate cats with eye-patches. He was wearing all black – a black tee-shirt and jeans, and they were entirely too tight on that body of his. That gorgeous body of his. His silky black hair was pushed back by the bandana, keeping it out of those warm mahogany eyes. Her own eyes slid down to that strong jawline, the stubble of a beard that probably took him an hour every morning to get just right, and then up to those full lips, the aquiline nose, and then to dark eyes once again, sporting those impossibly long lashes.
He was like a work of art come to life. If it weren’t for the tattoos peeking out from under his shirtsleeves, he’d be too classically perfect. Instead, they added a hint of bad boy that was playing hell with her libido.
Oh, she did not need this. Not today.
Amanda shoved her hand through her auburn hair hard enough to pull out some strands.
Look, you’ve got one job. Cook. And do it well. I’ve got a houseful of people to entertain, and no time to do it. I don’t want any surprises.
Like you, she thought. You are most definitely a surprise.
A woman who knows what she wants,
he purred. Today is going to go well.
He gave her a slow look from her lips to her suddenly curling toes.
Let’s keep this strictly professional,
Amanda snapped, uncomfortably aware that her face was flushed.
"I was speaking professionally," he said, but the slight smirk at the corner
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