About the Book
An inherited parking spot. That’s all it took to make Natalie Moran’s food truck dreams come true. But her dream space is attached to a bakery inherited by someone else—drop dead gorgeous Eric Schneider, a financial consultant who wouldn’t know a cupcake from a cannoli. And he wants to buy Nat out, no matter what she has to say about it.
Eric’s determined to build his own business, but he needs the super cute klutz with the cupcake truck to help. If Nat will teach him the basics of running a bakery, he’ll give her free kitchen time. Except…neither expects the heat burning between them or the possibility that their arrangement might become permanent.
When it all blows up, Nat is convinced his actions mean betrayal. It’s up to Eric to regain her trust and show her he’s a man who is truly, madly in love with her, before she disappears from his life forever.
Nat leaned back against the counter, her arms folded, a smile already on her face. “Five…four…three…two…one…”
She broke into a full-toothed grin and poked her head out of the kitchen. Eric was standing, holding the pint of gelato away from him like it was a snake about to strike. A large blob of the stuff lay on the floor at his feet with more of it dribbling down his chin.
He looked at her, his mouth hanging open. “What the hell did you do?”
She blinked innocently. “Oh nothing. I just thought you should have something extra special to celebrate with so I went to that garlic bistro and picked up a pint. I paid a bit more to have a little extra flavor mixed in. It was a little more expensive, of course, but nothing is too good for you,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.
He wiped a hand across his mouth. “And exactly what flavor is this?”
“Garlic and anchovy.”
“What?” he shrieked.
Nat grinned wider. “Payback’s a bitch, baby.”
“Oh, you are so going to pay!” Eric dropped the ice cream and lunged for her.
Nat shrieked and ran laughing into the kitchen but Eric was hot on her heels. There really wasn’t anywhere to run. He had her pinned against the sink in under ten seconds. He scooped a bit of the ice cream off his shirt.
“If I had to eat it, you do, too,” he said, trying to get the stuff in her mouth.
She shrieked again and tried to dodge his hands, though it was hard to keep her mouth closed when she was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. He managed to get a little in and she immediately spit it back out.
“Oh my God,” she laughed, “that is truly foul.”
“Ha! Serves you right, defiling my gelato like that.”
“It’s better than putting vegetable oil in my glass cleaning solution! That was just mean. I still can’t get the streaks off that mirror in the bathroom.”
Eric chuckled and held on tighter when she squirmed to get away. “Okay, okay. I call a truce.”
Nat stopped squirming. “You mean it?”
“I mean it. I’ll stop messing with everything around the kitchen, if you promise you will never, ever touch my gelato.”
She laughed and nodded. “Okay, fine, I agree.”
“Good,” Eric said. But he still didn’t let her go.
They were breathing hard from their mock battle and both of them suddenly realized they were molded together, from hip to chest, their arms locked around each other, their chests heaving in unison with every ragged breath they took.
Eric’s gaze met hers and he leaned in, slow enough that she could pull away if she wanted. She should. The smart thing to do would be to push him away. But since when did her body ever listen to what was smart when it came to Eric?
About the Author
Kira Archer resides in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kiddos, and far too many animals in the house. She tends to laugh at inappropriate moments, break all the rules she gives her kids (but only when they aren't looking), and would rather be reading a book than doing almost anything else. She has odd, eclectic tastes in just about everything and often lets her imagination run away with her. She loves her romances a little playful, a lot sexy, and always with a happily ever after.