Snowflakes & Sugar Cookies

By Cassandra Cassidy

When Celeste abruptly gets fired by an egotistical celebrity chef, she retreats to her grandparent's inn to celebrate Christmas and regroup.

 

But one thing after another goes wrong. Then, sexy lumberjack Brody shows up and Celeste can't decide if this is the best gift she's ever gotten, or if Santa's left coal in her stocking.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cassandra Carr
• Release date: Nov 14, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393489429

Book preview

Chapter One

Celeste glanced out the kitchen window of her grandparents’ inn, The Inn at Raymond Hill, wincing at the sight of the rapidly falling snow. Would the rest of the family make it up the mountain? The Adirondack Mountains in Upstate New York weren’t exactly known for being easy to navigate during the winter, as Celeste had personally witnessed for nearly 30 years as her family gathered for the holidays each year.

She loved her grandparents, loved the inn, but a Christmas without any buffers was the last thing her anxiety needed. She had enough other triggers already, like the head chef at her last place, one of those uberfamous celebrity chefs. Little did everyone who worshipped him through his appearances on TV know he was a total psycho whose ego wouldn’t fit in the Titanic, which is where she’d fantasized he’d end up more than once.

At least at the bottom of the sea he couldn’t be downright abusive to his staff. In her case, he’d thrown a ladle directly at her head – luckily, she had good reflexes and ducked, but the prep cook behind her wasn’t so lucky – and had then fired her in the middle of a Saturday night rush because she’d gotten rattled by his incessant screaming and dropped a plate of risotto. His famous risotto. Famous, my sweet chef patootie. That was my recipe.

It was just one of the things he’d stolen from her. But since he was the owner of the restaurant, she’d been sent packing without a reference. Her beloved mentor had died less than a year ago, and Celeste didn’t have other people to call. Damn the anxiety, she lamented for about the millionth time. She’d unwittingly cultivated a reputation as difficult to work with because of it, and now that, combined with the cutthroat atmosphere around New York City restaurants, she was screwed. No job, no future.

The spoon she’d been holding shook in her hand, splattering her hand with drops of hot soup, and she deposited it on the counter before her grandmother noticed. No one knew about her anxiety disorder – not officially, anyway, except her roommate and best friend, Ashley. Her family called her sensitive.

How’s it going, Judith? Her grandfather Ron asked, trundling into the kitchen. I’ve been trying to get a hold of Matt. We need that cord of wood.

Lunch is looking great, with Celeste here, Celeste’s grandmother answered. Dinner is moving along too. Unfortunately, the snow is getting worse. I don’t know if everyone will be able to get up here. Oh, I wish they’d come yesterday like Celeste did.

That’s why she’s my favorite younger granddaughter, her grandfather answered. Got all those smarts from me.

Her grandmother rolled her eyes but gave her husband an affectionate smile. Celeste laughed. You are incorrigible, Granddad.

The inn had fifteen rooms, eleven of which were currently taken by tourists. The other four had been reserved for Celeste and her family, who she hadn’t gotten together with for Christmas in, well, longer than Celeste cared to admit. She was always working, her brother and his family lived in Los Angeles, not exactly a hop, skip, and a jump from the inn nestled in the heart of the Adirondacks, and her sister and her family were in Rochester, near Celeste’s parents.

Her grandfather grinned, then made a show of sniffing the air. Smells good. What are we serving today, Celeste?

Choice of butternut squash soup with homemade sourdough bread, grilled chicken panini with apples and cheddar, or chopped salad. Elaine has really come along with her farm. I’m impressed.

And yet last time you were here you declared her produce inedible.

It was. I don’t know what she’s done differently, but it’s worked.

Her grandmother nodded. It’s Brody’s doing.

Brody?

Yes, he’s Elaine’s brother. I’m sure I told you about him, her grandmother waved a hand and continued. He grew up here, then moved away to become a carpenter. Why he couldn’t do that in Tupper Lake, I have no idea.

Celeste’s grandfather piped in. He was on one of those HGTV shows for a while. Got burnt out. Came back. Studied agriculture techniques for our zone and changed a bunch of stuff. At first Elaine wanted to kill him, since he can be a bit of a bull in a china shop, but the business is thriving.

There’s a limited growing season here, Celeste said.

He built one of those hydro-whatever greenhouses. A big one, I’m told, though I have absolutely no reference, so I trust the opinion of others.

Hydroponic? Really?

Well, he is a carpenter, her grandmother reminded her.

Building a bookshelf is a little different than a greenhouse.

Her grandmother rose slowly. You’re always so hard on other people. I’m going to check the dining room’s ready. I doubt folks will want to go downtown in this storm, so we’ll probably be full up today.

Her grandfather looked out the window and