Charlotte Ames despises hotheads. You know the type. It’s the growly, perma-scowling bully who blows his top at the slightest inconvenience. And her former boss, Top Chef Mitch Elliott, is the king of all hotheads.
How big of a jerk is he? Big enough to make her hurl a salad at the guy.
Those vegetables didn’t ask to be strewn across the floor. But Mitch deserved it!
Is he devastatingly handsome when he loses his cool? Could his stormy blue eyes, flashing with passion, melt the panties right off a gal? That would be a yes. Still, she can’t stand him. And she’d thought she’d seen the last of the culinary creep.
She was wrong.