The Gingerbread Cookie Code

By Ann M. Trader

Clay Blackstone, avowed bachelor, is an ambitious computer design engineer at a prestigious firm. When an accident puts his dad on crutches, he returns home to help with his family's Christmas tree farm, never expecting to find romantic entanglement with an alluring woman he remembers as a tomboy in braids.

As a single mother launching a bakery business, Shelby Turner has experience with measuring cups and watercolor paints, but not handsome, intriguing men—especially one who is her secret schoolgirl crush.

Between her sweet treats, his tech savvy, and their combined chemistry, will they risk their hearts and discover the code to their happily ever after?

• Language: Unknown
• Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
• Release date: Nov 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781509238378

Ann M. Trader

I have my Bachelor of Science in Elementary Education and have taught for sixteen years in North Carolina Public Schools. I am a native North Carolinian, and my family calls the Blue Ridge Mountains home.

Book preview

Come on, Shelby. Think about it. It’ll be fun. Anymore, all I do is design for corporate clients. I’ll have your website and business platforms optimized and running in no time. And don’t worry—I’ll teach you everything you need to know to maintain them. I could help you write a business plan, too. Your dad will take your idea more seriously if you work it out on a spreadsheet. He winked at her from over his mug. I’m all yours, any day after four.

She arched a delicate eyebrow and gave him a conspiratorial look. Did you also forget to tell me you were once a salesman?

Clay chuckled behind his fist. I’m beginning to like her. A lot. So…what do you say, Shelby?

He watched her twist her napkin into a knot, then she met his eyes. Oh, all right. Yes, I’d like your help—but on one condition. You let me return the favor by fixing you supper.

He smiled on the inside. Including sweets?

Definitely sweets. Her cheeks turned a peachy pink. So any allergies or foods you hate?

Not a one. Please. Surprise me. The levity in his voice was unmistakable, and it surprised him. So how about we start tonight? I’ll bring the wine. Red or white?

Shelby dropped the crumpled napkin on her plate. Tonight’s good. And white please.

The Gingerbread Cookie Code

by

Ann M. Trader

Christmas Cookies

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.

The Gingerbread Cookie Code

COPYRIGHT © 2021 by Ann M. Trader

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 Diana Carlile

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 978-1-5092-3837-8

Christmas Cookies

Published in the United States of America

Dedication

To every woman

who believes it’s never too late for firsts

Chapter One

Clay Blackstone stepped into Turner’s Hardware and wiped his boots on the familiar brushy welcome mat. The hardwood floors creaked a greeting as he passed a parade of customers searching for that special bathroom faucet or average box of two-inch nails. His mission—sixty feet of outdoor Christmas lights—fell somewhere between the two extremes. Get the multicolored ones. He smirked, remembering his mother’s instructions.

He headed toward the circular display of holiday decorations and, slipping between a grandmother and her whirligig grandson, scored five boxes of the large bulbs with thick green wires. While on a quest for a bag of plastic ties and a sleeve of industrial staples, he paused at a life-size cardboard cutout of jolly old Saint Nick toting the latest cordless power drill. Sorry Santa. Finished my Christmas shopping before Halloween.

As he made his way toward the front of the store, he inhaled the scent of hardwood and metal…and pecans? He paused, nose twitching. And vanilla? His stomach grumbled, and he took a detour in the direction of the enticing aroma.

Morning. A pint-sized girl perched on a stool blinked her bluebell eyes at him. You want a cookie?

He surveyed the tray lined with red paper cups, half filled with brown balls and the other with white ones. He looked at the child, traces of powdered sugar on her chin and fingers.

Thanks, I’d love one. Which do you like best?

The snowballs for sure, she said, pointing at the powder white cookies. Mommy calls those others rum balls. She says because they smell funny, only grownups like them. The child grinned