(MSRP: 4.5000)
What if the legend of Santa Claus is in fact, true? What if Santa has five big strapping sons who help him run his empire? Five single, sexy sons looking for romance...
Nicholas Klaus is a master pastry chef, a strict disciplinarian, and the eldest son of the legendary Santa Claus. One look at cafe owner Lucy Brewster sends him into an unexpected tailspin of lusty desires. When Lucy is injured, Nicholas makes a decision that catapults their lives into turmoil...
Lucy Brewster, the free-spirited proprietor of Sweet Inspiration, has a flair for concocting sugary confections but no time for adventure. She gets more than she bargained for when she awakens in the North Pole...rambunctious elves, a fitness-obsessed Santa, and the man of her dreams. Does she have what it takes to become the next Mrs. Klaus?
204 Pages, Spice
Excerpt:
Chapter One
Surrounded by howling winds and a relentless fall of snow, Nicholas Sebastian Klaus studied the storefront across the street. The windows of Sweet Inspiration were so foggy he could barely make out the lights twinkling inside. Customers who scurried into the shop searching for a warm respite from the wintry weather would not be disappointed. The cozy, fragrant bakery was as welcoming as a nana’s kitchen, and as comforting as the first luscious bite of a frosting-drenched cinnamon bun. The patrons would settle down into the overstuffed sofas clutching mugs of steaming cocoa, their eyes closing in bliss as the buttery pastry melted in their mouths. He knew these things were true for he had experienced these sensations every day for a fortnight. And truth be told, Nicholas Klaus was a hard man to please.
The brownstone looked like a gingerbread house, four stories high. Lacy curtains tacked back with garnet velvet ribbons framed each window, and candles flickered against the frosted glass. Branches of bittersweet and rosehip berries overflowed the window boxes, and garlands of fresh greens trimmed the doors. A more picturesque shop would be difficult to find, even in this charming little town of Eston, New York.
Of course, the most enticing part of the café was not the decadent pastries or the heady scents of cinnamon and cloves. The reason he felt compelled to visit the bakery every day of his extended vacation was hustling down the street, her arms filled with a large basket of apples. Lucy Anne Brewster, proprietor of Sweet Inspiration and baker extraordinaire, was a delicious package he desperately wanted to unwrap for Christmas. A wild mass of red curls escaped from her tight knit cap, and a hooded woolen coat concealed her white baker’s uniform. For the first time in his carefully controlled life, Nicholas found himself inexplicably attracted to a woman. And he was annoyed beyond reason.
From the very first day, he was mesmerized by Lucy's smile. Her plump rosy lips caused temporary speechlessness. The sprinkle of freckles across her blushing cheeks, like cinnamon on a plum kuchen, and blue eyes fringed with long black lashes were nearly his undoing. But when the damned woman bent over to fetch a cookie sheet from the oven, Nicholas felt a flash of fire so unexpected, he nearly toppled over. She revealed a curvy arse packed perfectly into her baker's pants. An uncontrollable flare of lust consumed him as sweat dripped from his forehead, along the side of his face into his thick beard.
And now he stood, like a bloody imbecile, on a freezing street corner in upstate New York, hoping for a glimpse of this red-haired goddess. Good God, his brothers would howl with laughter to see him in such a state. His father would be less than pleased to find Nicholas so obviously distracted from business. His mother, however...hmm, he had the distinct feeling that his mother would unleash that famous-dimpled smile and say, “Finally. It took you long enough, Nicholas.”
The embarrassing truth was that he had barely spoken to the woman. He initially visited the shop because a colleague mentioned that Sweet Inspiration had the best sugar cookies he'd ever tasted. Nicholas was a baker. His specialty...cookies. The quest for perfection consumed almost every waking moment of his life. Although he spent many hours laboring in his state-of-the-art kitchen, he also traveled the world to savor sweet delights from every country. He doubted that some little café in Eston, New York could best his rich, flaky sugar cookies. And yet, he found himself drawn to this townhouse several weeks ago.
He was hard pressed to criticize the shop. Inside, customers curled up on sofas with plump muffins and a book. Others clustered around café tables with friends, sipping cappuccino from sturdy ceramic mugs. The scent of vanilla and spices permeated the bakery, and twinkling garlands of lights framed the windows.
A young woman, adorned with glittering piercings and bohemian attire, waited on him the first day. Nicholas ordered a sugar cookie. No beating around the bush. He would taste, evaluate, and be on his way. His father expected him back to their village shortly. Cookie production skyrocketed at holiday time, and they needed him at home.
The first bite was surprising. The next, a joy. Each bite reminded him why he was so passionate about baking, why a simple cookie could transform a moment. He felt like a giddy child on Christmas morning, savoring the most delectable treat. This was no ordinary cookie. It was light, yet rich; simple, yet...there was a subtle and fascinating combination of flavors he could not identify. And Nicholas prided himself on his ability to discern any flavor. His taste buds were as experienced and worldly as they come. When he found his plate empty, he sighed and eagerly scanned the display case, ready for more.
He leaned down to inspect the other treats and caught a blurry image through the glass case -- a nymph in the kitchen. Long strands of copper-colored curls cascaded down her back. Delicate blue eyes and a rich lusty laugh caught his attention instantly. Slowly he stood and peered over the counter. She couldn’t be more than five feet tall. He watched, transfixed, as she reached back to knot her thick hair. Her little white T-shirt molded nicely to her chest, and two delicious cherries poked out, begging to be nibbled. By him.
He shook his head. What in God’s name is happening to me? The cookies, ask her about the cookies.
