Licking Her Christmas Cookies by Alina Jacobs

In hindsight, opening a Christmas tree ornament shop in a small town was a terrible idea.
The Thanksgiving turkey is still warm, and I’m already up to my eyeballs in debt from my failed business.
To make matters worse, my knight in flannel never appeared—you know, the guy, the one who was tall, dark, and plaid, who had a friendly yellow lab and a truck and sold firewood, the one who showed the big-city heroine the true meaning of love and Christmas.
Yeah, he did not come rescue me.
Instead, Matt Frost showed up like the Prince of Winter to yell at me about the rent I owed him.
He did not feature in any of my Christmas fantasies. In fact, he was exactly the type of Christmas-hating alphahole billionaire in a suit I left Manhattan to escape.
I can’t worry about him.
I need to fix my life.
I have to make a bunch of money before Christmas Eve or I’m a toasted marshmallow.
No ornament will be left off this Christmas tree of desperation!
Gambling on the Christmas raffle that lets you win either ten thousand dollars, a giant snow globe, or a snack-addicted reindeer? Spin that roulette wheel and bring it on.
Moonlighting as an elf for an irate Santa? Mama’s gotta get paid.
Entering in The Great Christmas Bake-Off in hopes of winning the grand prize? Fetch me my custom elf apron.
I so have this bake-off wrapped, ribboned, and in my Christmas stocking.
Except when I’m paired with Matt the Grinch, I see my dreams of a debt-free Christmas going up in Yule log flames.
Matt Frost and I are not compatible baking partners.
Especially not after he licks the frosting off my Christmas cookies while I scream..
Not like that! He’s a Christmas-hating Scrooge who ruined my bake-off entry.
I am not in the market for a Christmas romance.
Especially not with a six-foot-five guy with ice-blue eyes and washboard abs.
No, not even when he’s covered in frosting, standing in front of a decorated tree, and looking better than an edible Christmas card.
Nope, not even then.