Cookie Collision

By Darlene Deluca

Before she can let up and enjoy some holiday cheer, real estate agent Alana Drake has work to do. With Christmas moving in fast, she has clients to meet with, houses to show, and cookies to bake. Every open house deserves her special touch—homemade and hand-decorated sugar cookies for a warm welcome. And she needs several dozen for upcoming holiday events and open houses.
But a poorly timed stop at the grocery store could upend more than her bag of groceries.
Running into Doctor Justin Teague—literally—shakes up Alana's tidy world. The chance encounter leaves her with a bum ankle, forces her to reconsider some dating ideals, and reveals new information about a longtime nemesis.
When all she wanted was to bake some cookies…

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781509236893

Darlene Deluca

I write heartfelt women's fiction and contemporary romance that feels real. Books have always been a part of my life, and reading has always been a favorite pastime – from my childhood bookworm days when I would hide away with Trixie Belden or Laura Ingalls Wilder, to my busy parenting days when I forgo laundry, housecleaning and sleeping to carve out time for my latest book club read. I love curling up with a cup of tea and getting lost in a good story.My novels are about people and their relationships – what brings them together, what keeps them apart. My intent is to bring to life interesting and ‘real’ characters that you, the reader, can relate to in real-life situations that combine a little fun, plenty of drama (with perhaps a tear or two), and big helpings of friendship, love and self-discovery, and will leave you either cheering or sighing with a satisfied smile as you turn the final page.And just so you know . . . I like a happy ending.

Book preview

For him, the biggest issue was not the condition of her ankle but trying to stay in professional mode and ignore the feel of her smooth leg under his hands. Seated on the table in front of the sofa, he forced his eyes to focus on the strip of fabric as he wound it around both foot and ankle and secured it firmly. How’s that feel?

Alana nodded. That’s amazing. It’s better already. Luminous eyes met his. Thanks.

You’re welcome. Keeping it tight is the key. He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and touched her hair. Sorry you had a bad day.

A light sparked in her eyes, and she sat straighter. I didn’t have a bad day.

Frowning, he cocked his head. You didn’t? Looks like the ankle was, well, a big pain.

She grinned. It was. Except for this stupid ankle, I had a great day. I got two offers on the house, and another couple that’s interested is supposed to let me know tomorrow. That means we could have a bidding war and get more than our asking price. And that is a good thing.

Justin couldn’t help laughing. He held up his hand for a high-five. Very nice. He loved her triumph-over-adversity attitude.

Cookie Collision

by

Darlene Deluca

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Cookie Collision

COPYRIGHT © 2021 by Darlene Deluca

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Contact Information: [e-mail]

Cover Art by Debbie Taylor

The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

PO Box 708

Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

Publishing History

First Edition, 2021

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-3689-3

Published in the United States of America

Chapter One

The glass doors slid open, and Alana Drake hurried outside into blinding sunshine. It was the kind of crisp winter day that glowed with a bright, cloudless blue sky. With one hand balancing the bag of groceries on her hip, she shaded her eyes. A split second later, her face slammed against a solid object. Reeling, she let out a sharp yelp as the brown paper bag slipped through her grasp. She lunged, off balance, to catch the bag.

As if in slow motion, her fingers clasped the paper and pulled in a desperate attempt to— The bag ripped apart and tumbled to the sidewalk below—and ten pounds of flour exploded. She fell awkwardly on her knees, joining the unfortunate scramble of her cookie ingredients. Alana knelt, stunned, covered in a mist of white powder.

A firm hand curled around her arm. Easy there. A little more pressure on her arm, and she was gently pulled up. You okay?

Oh, my gosh! What— Alana coughed and sputtered, brushing dusty flour from her lips. As she stood, her purse dropped from her arm—the soft, black leather landed upside down squarely in the powdery mess below, sending up another plume of dust while the contents scattered.

No! Sinking to the pavement again to rescue her belongings, Alana nearly toppled when the heel of her left shoe twisted beneath her. Groaning, she lifted the soiled purse and brushed her hand across it, leaving a streak like an airplane shooting across the sky. Nice. She scooped up a handful of chalky pens and breath mints. I cannot believe this. She ground the words between her teeth as she shook the items then stuffed them back inside the purse.

The body that caused the collision knelt beside her. Here, let me do that.

You’ve probably done enough, Alana muttered under her breath. She’d been the one facing the sun, not him. Why hadn’t he seen her?

The man plucked a cell phone from the powdery heap.

Ah. That explained it. Looked as if the flour cushioned the phone’s fall. Lucky him.

How’s the phone?

He swiped a palm across the screen. Seems okay.

Well, that’s a relief, Alana said, a hint of sarcasm creeping into her tone.

Hey, I’m really sorry.

The sincerity in the low voice stopped her, and she looked up.

Warm, hazel eyes met hers. As he peered at her, a slight frown marred his tanned face. Wow. Must’ve just come from the beach or ski slopes to have a tan like that in December. With the added layer of white dust, she probably looked like a ghost.

He picked up one of her business cards from the sidewalk and waved it. I’ll take this and give you mine. Have your suit cleaned, then let me know the damage. I’ll take care of it.

Hand around her arm again, he stood and pulled her upright with him.

She glanced down at the skirt of her favorite charcoal gray suit that fit perfectly in both waist and hips, falling in a smooth, wrinkleless line a few inches above her now bloody knees. The supermarket sat between the home she’d been showing and her own place, so she’d stopped still decked out in her professional look. She clutched the fabric and gave a gentle tug. A puff of fine powder wafted around her legs. Lovely. Was it ruined?

Well, shoot, bet that was going to be a helluva cake.

Cake? Drawing a blank, Alana stared at the man.

Looks like you had some baking to do. Still hovering beside her, he smiled and gestured toward the mess. Flour splattered the sidewalk, and eggs oozed into the cracks. Ugh, of course the eggs broke, too. Not a pretty sight.

With an impatient sigh, she pushed back the hair from her face. Cookies. I was going to make cookies.

Listen, this was my fault, he said. Let me go inside and get you some fresh groceries.

No, that’s not— Alana took a step back and gasped. Wincing, she leaned against a bank of shopping carts and gingerly massaged her left ankle.

You okay? Tan Man was in her face again. Can I take a look?

Oh, um…I guess so.

He knelt and took hold of the ankle, gently moving it.

Ouch! That’s—

These shoes… He tapped the heel of her black pumps and shook his head. Probably not the best option for grocery shopping. They throw your balance—

Alana held up a hand and barely stopped her eyes from rolling. The last thing she needed was mansplaining about her shoe choices. Really? You’re going to lecture me on women’s shoes?

He placed her foot on the ground. Guess not. Can you support your weight on it?

She frowned. What was that supposed to mean? Was there a problem with her weight-to-heel ratio?

You know, I managed to work all day in these shoes. I got in and out of my car and climbed up and down several sets of stairs multiple times without any problem. She put a finger to her chin. Come to think of it, until you plowed into me, I didn’t have the slightest issue with my shoes or my ankle.

He placed his hands on his hips. But it hurts now?

Clutching a cart, Alana carefully tested the waters and attempted to take a step on that foot. Pain shot up her leg. She winced again and let out a long sigh. Yes. It hurts a little.

"Probably just a tweak or