Christmas Connection: It Happened at The Hideaway, #3

By Simone J. Maxwell

This Christmas, is the second time the charm for a thirst-trapping celebrity pastry chef and the stubborn ex-girlfriend he can't stop thinking about?

 

Monica

Dating the man the Internet has nicknamed "Pastry Papi?" 2/10, would not recommend.

 

Meeting up for days at a time in far-flung cities around the globe was fun at first, but long-distance and jealousy can put a strain on even the most solid relationships. Add in the fact Philippe wanted to keep me a secret to "protect his brand," and we were doomed.

 

When my employer presents me with a week-long stay at the secluded Hideaway resort for the holidays, it seems like the perfect opportunity to finally get over my ex. But by some twist of fate, he's also staying at the resort, and that handsome, cocky face of his is weakening my resolve. 

 

Philippe

In the months since my breakup with Monica, I've dated several women in an attempt to move on. But finding someone who challenges me and offers the same unwavering support is tough. And in an industry where it's hard to know who you can trust, a genuine connection like the one we shared is priceless.

 

Running into her here at the resort—at a cacao ceremony, no less—is a sure sign there's got to be more to our story. I know the hurt I've caused Monica has raised her defenses, but I'm determined to win her back by showing her she's my top priority.

 

This Christmas, I've been gifted a second chance at true happiness, and I'm not letting it go to waste.

 

Each book in The Hideaway series is a steamy, stand-alone romance with NO cliffhanger and an HEA. Suitable for ages 18+. Come find your escape.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Simone J. Maxwell
• Release date: Mar 19, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224366538

Book preview

ONE

monica

"Oh my God! There’s an Hermès beach towel with my name embroidered on it in the welcome basket. I repeat—there is an Hermès beach towel with my name on it, my older sister, Melody, shouted from the other bedroom in the cliffside villa we were sharing for the next few days. She appeared in the doorway of my bedroom with the towel draped around her head and over her shoulders like a glamorous fifties movie star about to hop in her convertible. Do you think we can take it home?"

Of course you can take it home, Mel. It literally has your name on it. Do you actually think the resort’s going to save it for the next Melody?

My gaze swept the large, airy bedroom. With its soothing color palette of cream and white with pops of forest green and gold, an enormous king bed loaded with plush pillows, and a cute seating area that faced a private patio offering a view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance, the room made a good first impression. Then again, with people paying upwards of $4,000 per night, it should.

Stop that, Monica. You’re not on assignment. You’re on vacation.

I wasn’t even sure if it was possible for hotel reviewers to take actual vacations, but my employer, Preeminent Travel, an award-winning luxury travel agency that designed bespoke experiences for the upper echelon, seemed to think so. For the holidays, they’d gifted me and a plus one an all-expenses paid five-day stay at The Hideaway Resort & Spa, notable for its substantial privacy measures and attention to detail, which made it popular among celebrities. I’d been miffed at the idea of Preeminent gifting me what felt like another work trip, but the financial bonus quashed my annoyance.

Mel frowned. It was just a simple question, Moni. She unwound the towel from her head and sat on my bed, even though there were two perfectly good armchairs a few feet away. Do you think we’ll run into anyone famous? Like Ryan Reynolds and Blake? Or Cameron Hartwell? She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead and pretended to swoon. Cameron is so damn good-looking. You know he’s my hall pass, right?

Hall pass? I paused in unzipping my suitcase on the wooden luggage rack where I’d placed it. I learned the hard way to never sit anything on the bed until I inspected for bed bugs, no matter how perfect things looked. You and William are madly in love. You would never!

Mel wiggled her eyebrows. If Cameron crosses my path, all bets are off. Remember—what happens at The Hideaway stays at The Hideaway.

I snorted. For all her talk, Mel adored her husband and kids. She would turn into a puddle if Cameron Hartwell even glanced at her. If it was my younger sister, Michelle…that’d be a different story.

You’re better off fantasizing about them. I met Cameron, and he was really freaking rude—granted, it was right after Emmy Santos stood him up at the altar.

Mel let out an exasperated sigh. You’re such a sourpuss. Is this about—

I whipped around with a fierce glare and held up one scarlet-tipped finger. Don’t you dare say his name.

She looked at the ceiling as if contemplating her next words. Moni, I’m saying this with love—

If you have to preface it with that, does it really even need to be said?

You’ve been a brat since the breakup. Like, even grumpier than before, and that was already pretty bad. Mel paused. You broke up two months ago, and you haven’t shed a single tear or appeared remotely upset.

"Because I’m fine. I broke up with him. Drop it." I escaped Mel’s obnoxious, pitying stare by taking my toiletry case into the ensuite.

Soaking tub and picture window. Skylight over the shower. Nice.

I plunked my contact case and bottles of face wash and toner down on the locally sourced stone counter with more force than necessary.

I was fine.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined coming face to face and falling in love with a man who gained celebrity by appearing shirtless online and baking scrumptious-looking desserts in the most suggestive way, but it happened. And at first, things were good.

After meeting on the Hawaiian island of Pā’ina, we decided to try our hand at a relationship. Because I was a luxury hotel reviewer, and Philippe was doing double duty judging a popular baking competition show and filming another program in which he traveled the world, sampling and learning to make popular local desserts, we rarely saw each other in person. When we did, it was in places like London and Marrakech, and our days spent together were filled with sex, pastry, and more sex. It was like something out of a movie.

But a relationship like that wasn’t sustainable. Not when Philippe’s brand was built on being a handsome tease who made eclairs and fed them to you in bed. While apparently it was no problem for him to be spotted with famous pop stars at Hollywood afterparties or bantering with talk show hosts, telling the world he was happily in a committed relationship was a no-no. I still wasn’t sure whether that was his decision, or his team’s.

As much as he reassured me over FaceTime that everything was just a publicity stunt, it all fed into my insecurity. Was it too much to want to be with someone who was completely smitten with me and wanted to shout about it to everyone?

So, after finishing a bottle of semi-sweet moscato, I sent an email that ended it all and never looked back.

Or at least I tried not to.

I stuffed down all my feelings and threw myself into my work, but ads and promos for his new show, Deslauriers’s Dessert Odyssey, started showing up everywhere. On social media sites, billboards, and buses. If there was a flat space somewhere, Philippe Deslaurier’s stupid, smug face was featured on it. Even worse was the fact that my family really liked Philippe and couldn’t—or wouldn’t—understand why we broke up, Mel, especially. Probably because she referred to herself as a hopeful romantic.

At this point, I was ready to start calling myself an anti-romantic.

Look, I don’t want to fight, Mel yelled. I know this is your everyday life, but I don’t often get a break from the kids. I feel guilty enough leaving William alone with them a little over a week before Christmas, but this mama needs some fun.

Guiltily, I made my way back into the bedroom to find her tapping on her phone. Being a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom to a five-year-old and eight-year-old, I knew Melody had limited free time. It was why she was the first person I thought about bringing with me. I was determined to help her make the most of her kid-free vacation.

I don’t want to fight either, I said. It’s just…Philippe’s kind of a touchy subject.

I understand. And you know what might help with that? Mel flashed me a toothy smile that immediately made me suspicious.

What?

She raised her phone to show me she’d been checking out the resort’s app. Going to the full moon cacao and ecstatic dance ceremony tonight. It sounds really cool.

I froze with my jewelry bag in my hand. An uninvited memory of sitting on a balcony in Hawaii and sipping from an earthenware mug of cacao as I stared into tender, blue-green eyes came to mind.

Actually, it sounds like the worst idea. The only other time I’ve drunk cacao—

I know, Mel cut in, her face sympathetic. But that’s why this is perfect; you can reclaim the experience. Cacao has a lot of beneficial properties—

"Trust me, I’m very familiar with it."

So? Mel asked, her face bright with hope.

I chewed on my lip. I didn’t want to be the