A Recipe for Christmas

Her career depends on telling his story. His trust depends on what she leaves out.

Ivy Douglas writes the warm, feel-good features nobody clicks on anymore. Her editor wants “thumb-stopping,” and Ivy wants to keep her job. So she chases the one story that can save it: a holiday profile of Barlow’s Bakehouse, the Upper West Side institution famous for its Christmas cookies and old-fashioned charm.

When the owner won’t return her calls, Ivy stakes out the bakery before dawn. She’s expecting the jolly, silver-haired baker who smiles from every Barlow’s box. Instead, a motorcycle roars to the curb and a broad-shouldered stranger swings off with tattooed forearms, black helmet, don’t-waste-my-time attitude.

Obviously, the delivery guy.

Then he takes off the helmet — rumpled dark hair, a devastating face, and the keys to Barlow’s Bakehouse.

Luke Barlow gives her a flat no. Then, cornered by his investors, he agrees — with one condition. His business is on the record. His life is not.

Unfortunately, his life is the only story her editor wants.

Ivy has one deadline and one impossible choice. Because somewhere between a ballet Luke doesn’t get and an ice rink he does, the man she came to write about has become the man she can’t stop thinking about.