Amy Easton is hell-bent on making this Thanksgiving holiday perfect for Dad, and herself. But when she arrives at Martha’s house, she quickly realizes she is in way over her head. She has no idea how to run a holiday, especially one in someone else’s home. What will Dad’s new girlfriend think when Amy screws it all up?
Mason Rider is blindsided by the woman in the grocery store headed for the last can of cranberry sauce. He lets her charm him right out of it and leaves with a non-committal maybe that she’ll call him next week. He should be more focused on helping mom through her first post-divorce Thanksgiving, but he can’t help but lust after the Kindergarten teacher with a hard edge.
When he comes home to find the sexy cranberry-stealing blonde and her father in Mom’s house, his holiday hook up plans burn to cinders. Will he be able to resist Amy’s temper and spontaneous nature, or will his desire force him to break a promise he made to his mother?
Rachell Nichole is saucy mama who writes Sizzling Romantic Entanglements. She is the author of An Affair Across Times Square, Spicy with a Side of Cranberry Sauce, and A Marietta Wedding. Rachell lives in New York with a mountain of books, a loving family, and an evil cat named Godiva that she adores.
Where the hell was the cranberry sauce?
Amy Easton turned down the aisle of baking goods, searching for the last item Martha needed her to get. She had to find the damned can. This holiday would be perfect if it fucking killed her. The chain on her boots jangled as she hunted. The gallon of milk and box of stick butter froze her hands, but they’d been out of carts and Martha needed them both for first thing in the morning.
She dodged an older lady pushing a heavy cart as she careened around the corner at the end of the aisle. She still didn’t spot the display. The stock boy had told her it was on aisle six, and here she stood at the end of aisle six, empty handed. Sighing, Amy turned and headed up the aisle again, her eyes roving left and right. She forced herself to slow down, fearing she’d miss the display.
Thanksgiving just wouldn’t be the same without it.
Martha had said the same thing earlier that evening when she’d sent Amy to the store. The woman was a Domestic Goddess. The way Mom used to be, the way Amy would never be. So when Martha had panicked after being unable to get in touch with her son on his way from the airport, Amy had volunteered to go get it. She’d be useless in the kitchen tomorrow, so it was the least she could do. Besides, it got her out of the house and away from the smooching her dad and Martha kept doing when they thought she wasn’t looking.
It was sweet, really. And Amy couldn’t be happier with the way Dad was slowly coming back to life under Martha’s tutunch something. Where the hell was that damn can?A tall man with reddish brown curls was coming down the aisle diagonal to her. Heading for that damned can. She didn’t know where else to go around here to find one. She had to get to that can first. She picked up the pace and just as he turned the corner, she body checked his cart, flying back on her ass and dropping the milk and butter, just as the can of cranberry sauce flew off the s
There!She spotted the display acroelage, but she could do without seeing her dad making out. She wanted to throw up her hands or pss the end of aisle six. One lonely can of cranberry sauce sat on the shelf, as if it had waited just for her. She hadn’t thought Martha would be the kind of person to leave the shopping till the last minute, but apparently a few things had slipped her mind this year. With Amy and her dad down visiting, she wouldn’t be surprised if Martha had been a little worried about how things would go.