Thereâs sizzle in this kitchen!
Chef Julia Laurent has poured everything into her late motherâs restaurant. When the time is right, sheâll buy it herself. Before she can, though, the Ford family swoops in and acquires it out from under her! Suddenly Julia has a new bossâthe sexy and intriguing Donovan Ford.
Donovan and his family are legends in the restaurant business, so Julia will go along with his plansâ¦for now. The chemistry between them is undeniable, but Julia remains focused on her goal of owning this place. Donovan has the power to help herâJulia simply has to convince him that he wants to.
To a bright and satisfying future.
Donovan
Julia recognized the label. An expensive and uncommon bottle. She hadnât needed to read the card attached to know it was all Donovan. All class. Attraction flared. Which showed just how long sheâd been without a boyfriend, that a bottle of wine, even if it did cost more than most peopleâs weekly paychecks, was enough to get her all heated up.
Well, that might be so, but she didnât have to act on it. Couldnât act on it. Her focus needed to be on the restaurant. She didnât have time for anything else. Maybe in a few years when her name was on the deed, when La Petite Bouchée was spoken about in the same breath as other great Vancouver restaurants, she could ease off a little. But until then, sheâd accept the gift at face value, a way of welcoming her and her team to the company. Nothing more.
Dear Reader,
As much as I love to cook (and oddly enough, itâs one of my great joys to slave over a hot stoveâno, this isnât sarcasm), I also love eating in restaurants. And I love Paris. And siblings who support and snark in the same breath. So I put them all together in Tempting Donovan Ford and whipped up what I hope is a tasty treat. As an added bonus, no calories will be consumed during the reading of this book. Unless you add chocolate. Because everything is better with chocolate.
If youâre curious about the music I played and the actors I pictured while writing the book, visit my website, jennifermckenzie.com.
Happy reading,
Jennifer McKenzie
JENNIFER McKENZIE lives in Vancouver, Canada, where she enjoys being able to ski and surf in the same dayânot that she ever does either of those things. She spends her days writing emails, text messages, newsletters and books. When sheâs not writing, sheâs reading, eating chocolate, trying to talk herself into working off said chocolate on the treadmill or spending time with her husband.
This is for my aunts who were the first to buy my books, tell me how proud they were and brag about knowing me in grocery stores.
Shelley, Bonnie, Anna, Kathy and Pam. (No, you were not listed in order of importance. Or age.)
CHAPTER ONE
JULIA LAURENT HAD always liked traditions. Turkey at Thanksgiving, cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning, strawberry pie in the summer. Classics. Things that stood the test of time.
She hummed as she stepped out of the cold, midmorning January air and into the back entrance of her restaurant, La Petite Bouchée. Though her name wasnât on the deed, in every other way the space was hers. As executive chef, sheâd lovingly tweaked the menu, hung some of her own personal photos on the walls and trained the staff. Sheâd spent the past two years building traditions and trust, taking the routines her mother had started in the kitchen and making them better. In time, she was certain her name would be listed on the deed, too.
Assuming she could ever get Jean-Paul, current owner and massive pain in her ass, to agree to terms.
Still, she was satisfied. Jean-Paul had no interest in the restaurant. Heâd inherited the Vancouver property six months ago and had been looking to sell it ever since. And she had financial backers and an offer on the table. As soon as they could come to an agreement, La Petite Bouchée would be hers.
Julia unwound her scarf as she passed through the delivery bay and into the long hallway that led to the staff rooms and her office. The kitchen would already be buzzing. Prep chefs would be chopping, dicing and julienning the mise en place for tonightâs service. Stocks and sauces would be simmering on the burners. Veggies tourneed, beans soaking.
And Sasha, her closest friend and sous chef, flying out of the swinging doors toward her. âJulia.â
Julia stopped and stared. Sasha looked harried and not the normal busy-kitchen harried. More like the sky was falling. Or theyâd run out of chicken.