Gimme S’more

Hot Cakes book six

January 19, 2021

A friends-to-lovers office romance…that’s just so delicious.

Her boss makes her melt. When he’s not driving her crazy.

Oliver’s a dreamer who is always ready for the next big adventure.
Piper’s the steady one who keeps his feet on the ground.
He’s wildly successful, thanks to her always being there to catch him when he leaps before he looks. But she wants more. While he’s as clueless as ever.

So she just gave her two weeks notice.

Ollie doesn’t know how he’ll survive without Piper. So for the next two weeks, he’ll be sticking to her like the marshmallows on the s’mores she loves so much. He’s even willing to go…gulp…camping to prove his devotion.

But does he want her as his assistant . . . or is there a sweeter spot in his life for the woman who’s always had his back–and possibly even his heart?

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Excerpt

Piper Barry was in love with an amazing, brilliant, funny, good-looking man.

Who, at least twice a day, she wanted to smother with the stuffed dragon that sat on the corner of his desk.

Okay, maybe not smother. That was extreme.

But duct tape over his mouth? Oh yeah, she thought about that often.

“Is spit better than snot?” Oliver Caprinelli, that man—and her boss—asked her as she crossed his office to refill the water pitcher by the window.

“In every single context, yes.” Piper was also aware that in any other workplace with any other boss, that question would be strange. Here though, not so much.

On her way back past his desk, she set the two folders and the manila envelope she carried in front of him. He was just one of her five bosses and the least likely to open those folders or that envelope. She put them down anyway.

“Grant said that a soda flavor called unicorn piss wouldn’t sell well,” Ollie said, almost as if he was thinking out loud.

He did that a lot. Thought out loud.

That never stopped Piper from chiming in though.

“And you think that calling it unicorn snot would make it sell better?”

This wasn’t even the strangest conversation she’d ever had with Ollie.

“Wouldn’t you assume that unicorn spit or snot tasted good?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Uh, spit and snot.”

“But unicorn,” he insisted.

“I have never, not once, thought about the taste of unicorn… anything.”

“Well, think about it now. Yes, good?”

What she thought was that working for Oliver Caprinelli would be a lot better if he didn’t think out loud.

If he just sat there looking cute, things would be great.

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