She’s a beach town flower shop owner who loves Christmas.
He’s the hot new restaurant owner with a grumpy Grinch heart.
Christmas in Cape May, an all-new steamy Sunshine Sisters novella from New York Times bestselling author Jennifer Probst, is available now!
Devon Pratt loves many things in life. The beauty of flowers. The yin and yang of energy. The power of positivity in people. And everything to do with the Christmas season.
As a floral shop owner in the beach town of Cape May, she looks forward to decorating both the town and running the annual holiday party to benefit the local animal shelter. Too bad the new owner of her favorite venue is more like the Grinch than Santa. Working with him will be a challenge, but she’s too full of seasonal cheer to let him annoy her, right?
Jameson Franklin hates many things in life. Crowds. Fake cheer. Ostentatious décor. And especially Christmas. The season is full of things he’d rather avoid, but since taking over the popular restaurant Vintage temporarily for his cousin as a favor, he’s trying to play nice with the locals. Too bad the florist is insisting on overrunning his sacred space with blooms, dogs, and an endless positive persistence that pushes all of his buttons. But when too many heated confrontations lead to heated encounters, he begins to wonder what it would be like to love not only Christmas, but Devon Pratt.
Let the festivities begin.
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Keep reading for a look inside Christmas in Cape May!
She took a few steps in and jabbed her finger in the air. “You wouldn’t know how to handle a day at my shop, restaurant boy. And cancelling on a charity two weeks before the event is bad business in whatever way you want to look at it. I refuse to let you ruin this town’s tradition because you want to line your pocket with a few extra bucks. I don’t care what I have to do. You will honor the agreement and hold the gala here or I will make you sorely regret it.”
The words shot and floated through the room like post-gunfire. A slight trembling shook her body from the depth of her emotions, and she dully noted it had been a long time since any individual—male or female—brought out her full ire. Devon braced herself for the fight of the century.
“Restaurant boy?”
The droll amusement only notched her temper higher. “I mean it. I will help you do this but you have a responsibility to keep your damn word.”
The man had the audacity to lean back in his chair with ease and regard her under lashes that were too thick for a male. “And if I don’t?”
Devon realized she’d make a bigger impression if she was like him.
Cold-hearted, methodical, and ruthless.
“I know people.”
Interest piqued in those storm cloud eyes. “Mob?”
“No. Legal people. Wouldn’t it be a shame to try and make productive changes and have to deal with customer complaints regarding the food? Or sanitary conditions?” She clucked her tongue. “Mac just got his liquor license. I bet you’d make a pretty penny selling your fancy Manhattan cocktails here. Wouldn’t it be a shame if something happened to that liquor license?”
“You really like dogs, don’t you?”
She narrowed her gaze and tried to figure him out. He was so damn…perplexing. Devon expected anger, or some other type of boorish behavior. Instead, he acted like he was royalty who refused to show weakness or emotion. Unfortunately, it only made her want to stir him up a bit to see where his limits were.
“Dogs are the bomb. They deserve a little happiness before being returned to their cages without a family for Christmas.”
And then something amazing happened.
He laughed.
Sure, it was a chuckle, and not a full-blown chest laugh, but the sound ruffled her nerve endings and made her want to remember it so she could replay the scene later in her head. “Okay, flower girl. I’ll give you what you want because I have limited time to deal with your threats but I have no time to structure this event. I’ll serve local beer and wine. I’ll offer up a limited menu based on my choices. That’s it. You do everything else and there will be no interference with the lunch crowd. The event begins at six pm, and I serve till 4pm. That means, no early drop-offs or distractions for my staff.”
She opened her mouth to say something but he kept going.
“And if I need anything, I plan to call you and only you. The moment you don’t respond, I’m calling the whole thing off, and you can blame the dogs’ broken hearts on your inability to follow through. Understood?”
“Flower girl?”
He grinned and her stomach did another weird flip. Something about those lips distracted her. “Tit for tat. Now, I need to get back to work.”
This time, he turned around and began tapping at his keyboard.
She’d already been dismissed.
Head spinning, unable to come up with a proper retaliation, Devon left, wondering if she’d won the battle only to have lost the war.
Because dealing with that man for the next two weeks was going to be hell on Earth.
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