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Fenella Oliphant has always thought it apropos she was named after an herb: Useful, subtle, and not much to look at. But in the Oliphant Castle kitchens none of that matters, because she is the one in command…that is, as long as she can keep from being distracted by the dangerously delicious beast who’s planted his shapely arse beside her hearth and insists on offering unwanted advice.
Brodie McClure doesn’t know who he is anymore. He used to be one of His Majesty’s elite Hunters, bodyguard to his laird and damned handsome to boot. But now, he’s scarred and maimed, relegated to peeling carrots in the kitchens, while watching the most tempting little morsel alternate between blushing prettily and snapping commands. It’s not his fault the woman has no idea how to properly season mutton and refuses to listen to his suggestions. So, clearly, it’s up to him to instruct her.
Sparks—and eggs!—fly, until a friend offers a solution: A simple contest, using an assigned ingredient, and judged by a panel of three iron-clad stomachs. Fenella and Brodie jump at the opportunity to prove themselves the better chef, but somewhere among the butter, honey and cinnamon, they realize they’re going to have to make a pact to cooperate if they want to get out of this with their hearts—and lower intestines—unscathed!
