on id="u57e4ba49-808f-5dfe-9ba8-ed9a9e65aa0e">
There’s sizzle in this kitchen!
Chef Julia Laurent has poured everything into her late mother’s restaurant. When the time is right, she’ll buy it herself. Before she can, though, the Ford family swoops in and acquires it out from under her! Suddenly Julia has a new boss—the sexy and intriguing Donovan Ford.
Donovan and his family are legends in the restaurant business, so Julia will go along with his plans…for now. The chemistry between them is undeniable, but Julia remains focused on her goal of owning this place. Donovan has the power to help her—Julia simply has to convince him that he wants to.
To a bright and satisfying future.
Donovan
Julia recognized the label. An expensive and uncommon bottle. She hadn’t needed to read the card attached to know it was all Donovan. All class. Attraction flared. Which showed just how long she’d been without a boyfriend, that a bottle of wine, even if it did cost more than most people’s weekly paychecks, was enough to get her all heated up.
Well, that might be so, but she didn’t have to act on it. Couldn’t act on it. Her focus needed to be on the restaurant. She didn’t have time for anything else. Maybe in a few years when her name was on the deed, when La Petite Bouchée was spoken about in the same breath as other great Vancouver restaurants, she could ease off a little. But until then, she’d accept the gift at face value, a way of welcoming her and her team to the company. Nothing more.
As much as I love to cook (and oddly enough, it’s one of my great joys to slave over a hot stove—no, this isn’t sarcasm), I also love eating in restaurants. And I love Paris. And siblings who support and snark in the same breath. So I put them all together in Tempting Donovan Ford and whipped up what I hope is a tasty treat. As an added bonus, no calories will be consumed during the reading of this book. Unless you add chocolate. Because everything is better with chocolate.
If you’re curious about the music I played and the actors I pictured while writing the book, visit my website, jennifermckenzie.com.
Happy reading,
Jennifer McKenzie
Tempting Donovan Ford
Jennifer McKenzie
JENNIFER McKENZIE lives in Vancouver, Canada, where she enjoys being able to ski and surf in the same day—not that she ever does either of those things. She spends her days writing emails, text messages, newsletters and books. When she’s not writing, she’s reading, eating chocolate, trying to talk herself into working off said chocolate on the treadmill or spending time with her husband.
This is for my aunts who were the first to buy my books, tell me how proud they were and brag about knowing me in grocery stores.
Shelley, Bonnie, Anna, Kathy and Pam. (No, you were not listed in order of importance. Or age.)
Contents
Dear Reader
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
JULIA LAURENT HAD always liked traditions. Turkey at Thanksgiving, cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning, strawberry pie in the summer. Classics. Things that stood the test of time.
She hummed as she stepped out of the cold, midmorning January air and into the back entrance of her restaurant, La Petite Bouchée. Though her name wasn’t on the deed, in every other way the space was hers. As executive chef, she’d lovingly tweaked the menu, hung some of her own personal photos on the walls and trained the staff. She’d spent the past two years building traditions and trust, taking the routines her mother had started in the kitchen and making them better. In time, she was certain her name would be listed on the deed, too.
Assuming she could ever get Jean-Paul, current owner and massive pain in her ass, to agree to terms.
Still, she was satisfied. Jean-Paul had no interest in the restaurant. He’d inherited the Vancouver property six months ago and had been looking to sell it ever since. And she had financial backers and an offer on the table. As soon as they could come to an agreement, La Petite Bouchée would be hers.
Julia unwound her scarf as she passed through the delivery bay and into the long hallway that led to the staff rooms and her office. The kitchen would already be buzzing. Prep chefs would be chopping, dicing and julienning the mise en place for tonight’s service. Stocks and sauces would be simmering on the burners. Veggies tourneed, beans soaking.
And Sasha, her closest friend and sous chef, flying out of the swinging doors toward her. “Julia.”
Julia stopped and stared. Sasha looked harried and not the normal busy-kitchen harried. More like the sky was falling. Or they’d run out of chicken.
“Where have you been? Why aren’t you answering your phone?” There was a spatter of brown sauce on Sasha’s chef coat and a dusting of flour on her cheek.
“My phone?” Julia frowned and pulled the device out of her bag. A black screen looked back at her even when she tapped the power button. Obviously, she’d forgotten to plug it in last night. Again. Which was why people rarely called her on it. Something Sasha well knew. “It’s out of juice. Why?”
“Never mind.” Sasha waved away the concerns of the dead phone. “You haven’t heard.”
“Heard