When I met her gorgeous sister, Martha, and found an opportunity for a hands-on baking lesson, I was trying to figure out how to extend my work visa. Because once I’d tasted her goods there was no turning back.

She kneaded the dough. I needed her.


She kneaded the dough. I needed her.

Thanksgiving was my jam… and my pie, and my rolls. My obsession.

When my Christmas obsessed sister asked to host MY holiday, I was more than a little grumpy. But something in my gut told me to let her have it. Turns out, there had never been a better time to trust my instincts.

She’d invited a French guy she worked with, and once I got sight of Kellen, I wasn’t hungry for Thanksgiving dinner anymore. After one taste of his dough, I was certain we were the perfect combination. But his work visa said otherwise.

Was I a fling to keep him entertained until he left the country?

Gorging myself on Thanksgiving dinner wasn’t my ideal way to spend my extra day off, but Betsy had insisted I not ‘celebrate’ alone. I didn’t bother to explain that the French didn’t celebrate American Thanksgiving. In Betsy’s world, everything was celebrated.


Additional information

Weight 1 lbs
Dimensions 6 × .5 × 5 in
Category ,
Tags , ,