Tuesday 26 November 2019


Tasting Her Christmas Cookies is a standalone holiday romantic comedy. If you love Christmas desserts, like to laugh out loud at holiday innuendoes, and want Santa to put a tall, good-looking guy under your tree, then pick up this full-length, steamy romance novel! There are no cliffhangers but there is a very happy (Christmas!) ever after!

Title: Taste Her Christmas Cookies
Author: Alina Jacobs
Genre: Adult, Comedy, Romance, Holiday Romance
Release Date: 19th November 2019

BLURB supplied by Xpresso Book Tours
Winter is coming—and unfortunately it’s bringing Christmas with it.

I loathe the holiday. I hate holiday parties, fragrant decorations, and hokey movies. If I had my way it would be winter all year round and never Christmas.
Nothing burns like the cold—except a hot oven.
That’s right; against my better judgment I agreed to let The Great Christmas Bake-Off film in my tower.
And St. Nick help me but I even agreed to be a judge.

Christmas is like the perfect sugar cookie—it slowly melts in your mouth, sweetening every taste bud, making you wish it could last forever.
I love Christmas. I love the cheerful music, the fun sweaters, and the holiday lights. Most of all I love Christmas Cookies.
A begrudging bake-off judge, I refuse to let grouchy billionaire Owen Frost hate Christmas. The man is overworked, his employees are uninspired, and his life is seriously lacking in Yuletide cheer. I want to stuff his stocking with sugary goodness to put him in a very festive mood.

So I dressed up as a sexy elf and gave Owen a taste of something extra special. You should have seen his eyes roll back in his head when he bit into the perfect sugar cookie!
I can’t let Owen Frost be a distraction. Things are insane enough without a sexy billionaire.
My baking subscription service is in the death throes.
My Christmas-ruining step sister is trying to sabotage me in the bake-off.
I’m being stalked by elves on the shelf come to life.
Ok that last one is a little weird, but welcome to my disaster of a life.
I need to win The Great Christmas Bake-Off to pay of my debts and launch my baking career. Sleeping with one of the judges is going to ruin my chance for a merry Christmas. Owen with his washboard abs and big Christmas package is a bad idea. It’s best to keep that all wrapped under the tree.
But when he said in that deep, sexy voice, “Can I have another taste of your Christmas cookies?” Well, let’s just say I’m unwrapping one particular Christmas present early!


A few hours later, I had stuffed myself back into my gingerbread girl dress and was standing in the studio at my station. Today I would be vigilant. After Amber’s attempt to ruin my cookies in the last episode, I wasn't letting anything slide.

“Welcome to the next episode of The Great Christmas Bake-Off,” Anastasia said. “Christmas is about family, and there's something about experiencing Christmas through the eyes of a child to make the holiday extra special. And that makes children's Christmas our theme of the day. Contestants, your challenge is to create a dessert that is enjoyable for children to both eat and bake! And to help you, we have brought in a few children. We're borrowing the Svensson brothers! Come on out, boys!”
This wasn't a few children, I thought, as two dozen blond-haired, grey-eyed boys, in a range of sizes and ages, streamed into the studio. The younger ones looked around in awe at all the Christmas decorations.
“We have assigned several children to each station,” Anastasia explained.
Someone must have already told them where to go, because the boys all sorted themselves out so there were around three kids at each station. Fiona was teamed with three very happy teenage boys who were clearly over the moon to be working with the pretty baker.
I seemed to have been assigned the youngest Svensson brothers. One of them barely came up to my knee. I bent down to talk to them at their level. Zane zoomed in with the camera. The youngest boy immediately looked freaked out.
“What’s your name?” I said, trying to use my best this-is-going-to-be-amazeballs-and-totally-not-scary voice.
The small child looked between me and the camera, wide-eyed. “I'm Davy,” he said finally.
I let out a breath. Meltdown averted.
“I'm Henry,” his slightly older brother announced. “I'm five and a quarter.”
“Are you really!”
“I'm Andy, and I'm six,” said the third boy.
“Are you ready to help me bake?”
They nodded.
“Great! Because I really need your help!”
On the outside, I was the fun, Christmas-loving baker. However, I was silently wondering if I was actually going to be able to finish this dessert. The other stations with the older kids already had their ingredients selected, while I had just finished introductions.
The three teens at Fiona's station expertly chopped nuts and stirred sauces in a double boiler. She had basically been given three sous chefs. Someone had clearly taught them something about cooking.
I doubted that knowledge had trickled down to my three. Davy clung to my skirt as we went over to the pantry to pick up my ingredients. Andy and Henry did at least help me carry things back to my station, and they didn't even drop anything. Henry stood on tiptoe to push his items onto the counter. Andy was barely tall enough to peep over the top of the table, his eyes clearing the counter.
“Can you pick them up?” Zane asked in a low voice. “They're out of the frame.”
“Am I supposed to hold them and bake?” I whispered back.
Zane shrugged. One of the assistants brought out two milk crates, and Henry and Andy clambered onto them.
“Perfect,” Zane said, flashing me a thumbs-up. “Just set Davy on the table.”
“Oh my God,” I muttered, picking him up. He watched wide-eyed as I set about making the yellow sponge cake batter for the cake layer while Henry and Andy whipped cream cheese.
I started several saucepans of fruit to cook on the stove. I had to make two cakes, one for the production crew to photograph and one to present to the judges.
“I feel like they should have parceled the kids out better,” I said to Fiona as she and the three teenagers moved like a choreographed ballet in the tight space. “Maybe we could trade?”
She giggled. “I don't know, Isaac,” she said to one of the teenagers. “You want to switch?”
“I'm good,” he replied, deftly removing the seeds from a vanilla bean with a chef's knife.
I wish one of these kids could handle a knife.
At least Andy and Henry were halfway competent. I wasn't sure what to do with Davy. He was maybe three? He sat on the large table, watching me intently.
“I want to help,” he piped up.
“Um, okay, how about you—” I looked around. “You can start on the whipped cream. We need a lot of it to make the custardy layers fluffy and light!”
Davy nodded solemnly as I gave him the bowl of whipped cream, which was big enough for him to sit in. The whisk was as long as his arm.
“This is a lot,” he said as he stirred it with two hands. He was occupied, but baking the cakes was slow going. I couldn't just cook; I was also basically babysitting.
“I feel like this is turning into a gimmick,” I said when Anastasia came over. “Not that I don't enjoy the world's cutest sous chefs!”
“I'm not sure why they were parceled out like that, honestly,” she said, laughing. “But seriously, this footage is going to be gold!”
I was finally able to put the sponge cake in the oven to bake while I strained the fruit filling and portioned out the whipped cream cheese. Then I helped Andy and Henry stir the fruit in. Davy was still slowly whipping the cream as I started the custard. I had just turned my back for a second when there was a crash and a clang!
The whipped cream had fallen and splattered all over the floor. I hurried to grab a towel.
“You're fine,” I told Davy. “We have so much whipped cream it doesn't even matter.” I patted the splatters on his pants as his lower lip trembled. “See, you didn't get anything on your nice outfit,” I assured him, trying to keep him calm.
A production assistant hurried to mop up the whipped cream.
“See, it's all cleaned up,” I told Davy.
His eyes watered, his lips parted, and he screamed.
“Oh dear,” I said, picking him up. I looked to his teen brothers.
Isaac shrugged. “Davy's a crier. He'll go for the next few hours.”
“He's messing up my sound,” Zane said as I patted Davy on the back. He screamed and writhed in my arms.
“Maybe one of my older brothers is around,” Isaac said, looking around as he expertly whipped cream. “Garrett can sometimes make him stop crying.”
Zane made hurry-up motions as I tried to rock Davy and stir my custard before it burned. Owen came into the studio, annoyance clear on his face. He stormed over to me, Belle following behind him.
“We can hear him screaming in the Quantum Cyber offices upstairs,” Owen complained. “Isaac, where are your brothers?”
The teenager shrugged.
“Honestly,” Belle complained. “Gunnar just disappeared.”
“The Svenssons are flaky as hell,” Owen said, looking around in frustration. “Someone's going to call the police. One of the interns said she heard him screaming from the street. She thought a raccoon was trapped or something.”
Davy screamed even louder, and we all winced.
“Give him to me,” Owen said. “I got it.”
“Do you?” I said skeptically. “He's purple.”
Owen glared at me.
“Fine. He can blast your eardrums,” I said, handing Davy over. As soon as Davy was in Owen's arms, though, he stopped crying. The purple subsided, and he hiccupped.
“I know,” Owen said, his voice low, almost a purr. “Baking is rough, isn't it? I bet you'd rather execute a corporate takeover or monopolize a market.” He bounced the kid in his arms. I felt my ovaries pop. There was something about a powerful man in a suit cuddling a little kid that made me lose my Pfeffernüsse.
Owen snuggled Davy in his arms then lightly pressed his nose to Davy's small one, grinning at him. Davy giggled. A nuclear bomb went off in my womb. In the distance, sirens.
“That's it. I need a baby right now,” I said under my breath.

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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