by: Alina Jacobs
Series: Frost Brothers
Genre: Holiday Romantic Comedy
Release Date: November 17, 2020
Amazon | Paperback | Goodreads
Dear Santa, I do not want a Frost brother for Christmas.
In fact I do not want anything for Christmas—no annoying Christmas carols, no holiday family drama, and no last-minute presents.
And I certainly don’t want to be a bachelorette in The Great Christmas Bake-Off. Yes in the spirit of holiday commercialism, the bake-off is also a date-off and Jonathan Frost is the prize.
I should be hiding away with wine and snacks while waiting for Christmas to end. Instead I’m wearing a reindeer mascot costume and pretending I’m oh-so-excited to meet New York City’s most eligible billionaire bachelor!!! Just look at those blue eyes and six-foot-five tall frame!!! Don’t you want to take him home for the holidays?!?!!
Barf.
Unlike the other bachelorettes, I refused to debase myself and stroke some billionaire’s ego.
Instead, I threw a candy-cane dildo at his stupidly handsome face.
Then I laughed when he yelled at me.
Of course Jonathan couldn’t take the hint. He came around offering to put a little frosting on my Christmas cookies.
I attempted to shank him with a spatula.
He got offended and said that as a judge on The Great Christmas Bake-Off, he was just trying to help.
Sure…
Not that I’m looking for holiday romance.
Christmas is already a stressful time of the year without adding a billionaire in the mix.
Between dodging bake-off sabotaging cousins, applying for a long-shot prestigious museum internship, and trying to survive being broke in Manhattan, I’m up to my black lipstick in my own special nightmare before Christmas.
And it’s making me wound tighter than a nutcracker.
So when Jonathan offers to put some frosting on my cookies—and a few other ornament shaped parts—his washboard abs and sexy smirk start to seem like the perfect stress relief.
Especially when he offers himself all wrapped up in a bow.
So no, dear Santa, I do not want Jonathan Frost, but I won’t say no to his Christmas package!
Frosting Her Christmas Cookies is a standalone holiday romantic comedy. If you love Christmas baking, hilarious holiday hijinks, and a big thick Christmas stocking, then pick up this full-length, steamy romance novel! There are no cliffhangers but there is a very merry (Christmas!) ever after!
After changing and adding a Santa hat to complete my look, I settled down in the hot tub as the first of the bachelorettes came out, bearing a tray of baked goods and cocktails.
“For you, Jonathan, I made peppermint ice cream floats with whiskey,” she said proudly. “And to snack on, holiday sugar cookie bars with cream cheese frosting.”
She was curvy, and her boobs bobbed when she slipped into the steamy pool. Her hands ran over my chest, but even though we were wearing far fewer clothes and were in a much more intimate position, I didn’t get an electric spark like I had when Morticia had simply touched my hand.
“These are good,” I said after taking a polite bite. Actually, the cookie bar was dry. I took a sip of the cocktail to wash it down. It was more like a milkshake. I loved sugar as much as the next person, but this was a lot, and the evening was just getting started.
Another bachelorette paraded out with her offering. Keeley gave me a sultry look. “I made adorable Christmas tree mousse cups with a spiked chocolate malt cocktail.”
I took a bite of the mousse.
“It’s made with white chocolate so that I could dye it green,” Keeley said, giggling as she stepped into the steaming hot tub.
The mousse coated my tongue, and I took a sip of the chocolate malt to try and find some relief. With the heat from the hot tub, all I wanted was a tall glass of ice water and to jump into a snowbank to cool off.
“You know,” Keeley purred while I tried to think of waterfalls and blizzards, “I have another sweet treat you can eat if you want to try.” She drew snowflakes in the water droplets on my chest then reached up to cup a hand along my jaw.
“Next contestant!” a producer said. He waved to the glass garage door that opened between the porch and the back patio. “Morticia, just make sure that you walk toward camera C, please.”
I perked up. Morticia!
I had run through a few scenarios regarding what she might be wearing. Would she go on-brand with a skimpy spiderweb string bikini or ironic with a retro Christmas-themed two-piece?
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Keeley asked loudly as Morticia paraded out with her tray.
“That’s not a bathing suit,” I said, frowning.
“Actually,” Morticia clarified, “this is a bathing suit. In fact, it is a pattern modeled on one of the first instances of such an item.”
“You’re wearing a dress and pants!” Keeley complained.
“Pantaloons,” Morticia corrected, handing me a tall, frosty glass of ice water.
I took it gratefully, gulping it down.
“You can’t bring water for your cocktail,” Keeley insisted.
“Just a palette cleanser to wash the trash out of his mouth,” Morticia said.
I still couldn’t believe what she was wearing. Morticia had on stockings, thin leather shoes, and a dark charcoal-gray dress with a collar and short puffed sleeves.
“Are you actually swimming with all that on?” I asked in shock.
“Of course,” Morticia replied. She handed me a donut then carefully stepped into the hot tub and waded right to the middle, her bathing suit floating around her like a bloom of ink. “Now eat your donut. It has bacon on it.”
I took a bite. It did have bacon. The icing had bourbon in it and had a light burnt-caramel flavor that contrasted nicely against the salty, crispy bacon.
“Shit,” I mumbled, taking another bite. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Do you have any more?”
“They didn’t want you to ruin your appetite,” she told me with a slight smug smile that I imagined she might wear after she got me off. “But I’m sure someone might save you some.”
She handed me the other cold glass on the tray. “Drink up before the ice melts. I made a mistletoe martini with the elderflower liqueur,” she said.
The cocktail was bright, fresh, and ever so slightly tart. The cranberry garnishes burst in my mouth when I bit down on them, complementing the elderflower liqueur.
“Thoughts?” Morticia asked. “Comments?” She lay back in the water, buoyed by all her skirts.
The Victorians might have actually been onto something, because when she sat back up, the fabric clung around her curves enticingly.
“I need another donut.”
“For you, Jonathan, I made peppermint ice cream floats with whiskey,” she said proudly. “And to snack on, holiday sugar cookie bars with cream cheese frosting.”
She was curvy, and her boobs bobbed when she slipped into the steamy pool. Her hands ran over my chest, but even though we were wearing far fewer clothes and were in a much more intimate position, I didn’t get an electric spark like I had when Morticia had simply touched my hand.
“These are good,” I said after taking a polite bite. Actually, the cookie bar was dry. I took a sip of the cocktail to wash it down. It was more like a milkshake. I loved sugar as much as the next person, but this was a lot, and the evening was just getting started.
Another bachelorette paraded out with her offering. Keeley gave me a sultry look. “I made adorable Christmas tree mousse cups with a spiked chocolate malt cocktail.”
I took a bite of the mousse.
“It’s made with white chocolate so that I could dye it green,” Keeley said, giggling as she stepped into the steaming hot tub.
The mousse coated my tongue, and I took a sip of the chocolate malt to try and find some relief. With the heat from the hot tub, all I wanted was a tall glass of ice water and to jump into a snowbank to cool off.
“You know,” Keeley purred while I tried to think of waterfalls and blizzards, “I have another sweet treat you can eat if you want to try.” She drew snowflakes in the water droplets on my chest then reached up to cup a hand along my jaw.
“Next contestant!” a producer said. He waved to the glass garage door that opened between the porch and the back patio. “Morticia, just make sure that you walk toward camera C, please.”
I perked up. Morticia!
I had run through a few scenarios regarding what she might be wearing. Would she go on-brand with a skimpy spiderweb string bikini or ironic with a retro Christmas-themed two-piece?
“What the fuck are you wearing?” Keeley asked loudly as Morticia paraded out with her tray.
“That’s not a bathing suit,” I said, frowning.
“Actually,” Morticia clarified, “this is a bathing suit. In fact, it is a pattern modeled on one of the first instances of such an item.”
“You’re wearing a dress and pants!” Keeley complained.
“Pantaloons,” Morticia corrected, handing me a tall, frosty glass of ice water.
I took it gratefully, gulping it down.
“You can’t bring water for your cocktail,” Keeley insisted.
“Just a palette cleanser to wash the trash out of his mouth,” Morticia said.
I still couldn’t believe what she was wearing. Morticia had on stockings, thin leather shoes, and a dark charcoal-gray dress with a collar and short puffed sleeves.
“Are you actually swimming with all that on?” I asked in shock.
“Of course,” Morticia replied. She handed me a donut then carefully stepped into the hot tub and waded right to the middle, her bathing suit floating around her like a bloom of ink. “Now eat your donut. It has bacon on it.”
I took a bite. It did have bacon. The icing had bourbon in it and had a light burnt-caramel flavor that contrasted nicely against the salty, crispy bacon.
“Shit,” I mumbled, taking another bite. “This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten. Do you have any more?”
“They didn’t want you to ruin your appetite,” she told me with a slight smug smile that I imagined she might wear after she got me off. “But I’m sure someone might save you some.”
She handed me the other cold glass on the tray. “Drink up before the ice melts. I made a mistletoe martini with the elderflower liqueur,” she said.
The cocktail was bright, fresh, and ever so slightly tart. The cranberry garnishes burst in my mouth when I bit down on them, complementing the elderflower liqueur.
“Thoughts?” Morticia asked. “Comments?” She lay back in the water, buoyed by all her skirts.
The Victorians might have actually been onto something, because when she sat back up, the fabric clung around her curves enticingly.
“I need another donut.”
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If you like steamy romantic comedies with a creative streak, then I'm your girl!
Architect by day, writer by night, I love matcha green tea, chocolate, and books! So many books...
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I can't wait to read this book.
ReplyDeleteSounds interesting, cheers on the spotlight.
ReplyDelete