The deep, gravelly voice made her spin around. Standing in the doorway of her kitchen was Silas Vane. Silas was the town’s most successful—and most reclusive—architect. He was also the man who had bought every single one of her "Broken Heart" brownies every day for the last month just to see her smile.
"Then we finish together," he decided, already rolling up his expensive shirt sleeves to reveal tattooed forearms. "Show me what to do. But fair warning, Noelle—once these cookies are done, you’re mine. I’m taking you home, putting you by the fire, and I’m never letting you go." Alexa Riley - His Christmas Cookie.pdf
"I saw the lights on late," he murmured. "I’m not letting you spend Christmas Eve working yourself to the bone alone." "It’s my job, Silas. I have to finish." The deep, gravelly voice made her spin around
Silas leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, tasting like sugar and pure intent. "I know exactly what I want for Christmas. And she’s standing right in front of me." He was also the man who had bought
The flour on Noelle’s nose was the only thing standing between her and a complete holiday meltdown. As the owner of The Sugared Spatula , she had three hundred gingerbread men to decorate before the town’s Christmas Eve gala, and her piping bag had just exploded. "Need a hand, Little Cookie?"
"Silas! You can't be back here," Noelle squeaked, wiping her hands on her apron. "Health codes. And... and I’m a mess."