Take a Right at the Mistletoe

By Barbara Brutt

Each and every holiday season at Vienna's Christmas market, Matilda bakes confections for holiday tourists and quirky locals alike. Looking to escape the market drama, she sets her heart on culinary school.

Dylan has come to Vienna and the market to recover from a career-upending mistake and to unearth new inspiration. But when he nitpicks Matilda's marzipan, she hears fighting words and perhaps the key to her culinary school application. They strike a deal: he'll taste test and she'll show him around Vienna. With each new pastry experiment and Viennese adventure, their relationship sweetens.

But their relationship doesn't seem written into life's cookbook. Dylan can't stay in Vienna, and Matilda has to follow her dreams, so it seems some ingredients just don't belong together. And yet, their hearts have already committed. Will a Christmas filled with marzipan and mistletoe give them both what they want the most?

• Language: English
• Publisher: vinspirepublishing
• Release date: Nov 9, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005549923

Book preview

Chapter One

As a rule, I ignored the tourists. It wasn’t hard to do because they ignored me, too. I was nothing to them, just the average twenty-three-year-old girl with average brown hair and eyes, and they never thought that maybe I spoke perfect English and German, too. It was great this way. They got their Viennese Christmas market experience. I didn’t have to talk if I didn’t want to, and I could daydream about attending culinary school once I applied. But this season, the market was quieter than usual.

I’d basically grown up in this booth, working alongside my moms, during the Christmas season, and the bakery the rest of the year. Our market was unique because it ran the length of a street rather than sitting in the center of a plaza. Twinkle lights hung like an iridescent canopy over the pedestrian thoroughfare, and the wooden booths stuck out from the building architecture and permanent shops. Soft Christmas music wafted from the nearby shops, and a light dusting of snow flecked the air and street. Tonight, just a few tourists and locals wandered down our winding market, and that was how it had been since it had opened a day or so ago.

I grabbed a pastry bag and began to frost petit fours to display. If I was going to be a professional baker, I needed to be able to create the smallest of details. Glancing up through my eyelashes, I scanned the people meandering through the street. One man in a green parka and red hat stopped with his mouth slightly open and spun slowly in the center of the lamplight. His reaction was cute.

Nearby, a little girl followed a woman across the uneven cobblestone, both with arms brimming with purchases, and the little girl stumbled. Just as she started to fall, the man in the green parka steadied her, and his voice carried, I know what it’s like to fall. Keep your head up. Happy Holidays!

The little girl smiled up at him and then hurried after the woman again, and my heart trembled at that small moment of kindness I had witnessed between two strangers.

HAL-looo!

I jumped, inadvertently squeezing the frosting bag in my hand a little extra hard. Sweet Apollo!

Glancing down at the giant gob of red frosting now mountained on the petit four, I turned a scowl towards the grinning faces of the three store owners I’d dubbed the Tweedles: Tweedle Dee, more widely known as Simon Schneider; Tweedle Dum, also known as Jonas Schuster; and Tom, known as Tomas Winkler. They were rarely apart. These three old men with their fancy shops could use a refresher course in European chivalry, and they just loved to manage the management. They probably drove Frau Klein, the actual Christmas market manager, crazy.

Frau American! Tweedle Dee hollered at me in German from across the small counter. "Where’s my special Krapfen?"

I want to know who she was staring at when we walked up. Tweedle Dum crossed his arms over his chest.

Leave the girl alone, said Tom. "I just want my Linzer Augen."

I yanked their daily orders from below the counter, handing over their individual paper bags. Of course, of course, these three had to walk up right now for their favorite sweets when I was more interested in the man  I had just seen in the street. I snuck a quick look, but he’d disappeared.

Tweedle Dum waggled his eyebrows at me. Any new dates these days?

I pasted a smile on my face, practicing my buttercream level of sweet in conversation to try to deflect. Oh, you know our date pastries didn’t sell well.

I could bring my grandson by.

Didn’t he just celebrate his fifth birthday? These old men always wanted to know about my dating life, and it was none of their business. Tweedle Dee, Dum, and Tom elbowed each other and cackled.

How about my son? Tweedle Dee chimed in. He’s an engineer, has a great apartment, no kids.

We have a fresh batch of gingerbread and marzipan candies. I practiced my most formal German this time.

Just as I finished speaking, the man in the green parka stepped to the counter. And he was cute. Like, celebrity cute as my best friend Emma would say. His eyes sparkled, and he had strong jaw with some scruff.

Tweedle Dum wiggled his eyebrows at me suggestively, and I rolled my eyes back at him. These men. They loved their matchmaking more than any woman I’d met.

"Guten Abend, sprechen Sie Englisch?" The man spoke. His gaze flitted between us.

I tried not to laugh. This American’s German was some of the worst I’d heard in a long time, and that was saying something since tourists were our bread and butter around here. I glanced at the Tweedles, waiting for Tweedle Dee to answer. He just stared at me, raising an eyebrow. Usually, these three were so ready to use their English. I eyed Tweedle Dum and Tom. Neither made eye contact.

I turned my attention back to the tourist.

Though his parka was bulky, it was clear this man had a great build, and the deep green made his eyes appear green, too. He shrugged at me, repeating his question, English?

That’s when I wanted to kick myself because I was getting distracted by him rather than focusing on his words. Right. How may I help you?

Do you have any of that famous chocolate cake?

"Ah, the Sachertorte? We do make it, but we don’t sell it from our booth."

Oh. I’m in town until Christmas so I still have time to find a slice. He pondered our case. "What’s the most popular things here?

I paused, pretending to consider my answer. But really, I wanted the chance to study him a bit more. He was taller than the Tweedles, and he stood in a way that commanded attention. I pointed to the items in the display case in front of him, not sure if he’d know the items without the help. "Our regulars enjoy the Krapfen, Vanillekipferl, gingerbread, or marzipan candies."

Could you bag up six for me? Whatever you think is best.

I nodded and set to work.

Grouped together at the far corner of the stall, the Tweedles were trying hard to pretend that they weren’t eavesdropping. Tweedle Dee pulled his Krapfen, a jelly-filled powdered doughnut, from his bag, and he took a big bite of it. The American gave the three older men a sideways glance, grinned, and asked, Is it good?

Tweedle Dee forgot he was pretending he didn’t know English, speaking around the powdered pastry, It is the best in this whole market. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.

"So you do speak