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“ W hat? Say that again?” Athena frowned at her phone. Her literary agent’s words made no sense.

“His agent called. He wants to be on the cover. Merry Christmas! Your book is going to sell crazy amounts with that hunk gracing its pages. Say hello to big money in the New Year!”

Athena rubbed her forehead and scrunched her eyes shut, pacing the crowded back room of her shop on Main Street, Sweetheart Creek. She had too much on her plate at the moment to even think about Chad Mullens elbowing his way into her project.

Case in point, she—a dietician—had just sent her sister across the street for greasy takeout because she—who lived in one of the two apartments above the shop—had nothing in her fridge.

(Neither did her sister, who lived in the second apartment, but Meddy wasn’t paid to provide people with the tools and skills to eat nutritiously.) Right now Athena was supposed to be clearing off an eating space in the former café’s old kitchen, not on the phone.

Not worrying about a huge personality taking over her cookbook.

She nudged a box aside and blinked away tears of fatigue and frustration. One month until the Huckleberry Bookshop’s grand opening. One month and a day, to be exact. And it looked as though they’d need at least three months to pull it all together.

“I know we already settled on the cover,” Aurora was saying.

Athena peered into an abandoned coffee cup, debating if the latte was too old and cold to drink.

She tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder and picked up another box of books, carrying it to the storage area at the back of the building.

“But…Mullens? Hottie McHot Hot. So, what do you say? Happy Hanukkah? Are you Jewish? Or maybe I should say happy Chinese New Year?” There was a short pause.

“Because I said this wouldn’t be a problem. ”

Athena almost dropped her phone as she headed back to the kitchen to collect another load of books.

“But he doesn’t fit the image!” Never mind all the weeks of fighting she’d endured to get a beautiful book cover that would now be scrapped. Because in walks Chadwick Mullens and he was going to be on it instead. It was like putting a cup of white sugar on the cover of a sugar-free cookbook.

“Um,” Aurora said, her voice filled with amusement, “your book is called Eat Like a Player . He’s a player—in both senses of the word. We both know he’s perfect.”

That’s what she’d thought the first time she’d met him, too.

Perfect. Until she’d actually tried to do her job and discovered that he was a jerk.

It still smarted how she’d fallen for the way he’d leaned in.

He’d leaned toward her as though she was interesting, gorgeous and intriguing. Like he didn’t want to miss a word.

She’d been so excited to welcome the new players to the team and to share some of her favorite recipes.

Chad had been sitting close to the front, the tattoo that peeked above his collar drawing her eyes, his wide silver rings somehow the sexiest thing she’d seen on a man in eons.

He hadn’t shaved that morning and was looking rugged, yet still put together in his crisp, striped shirt and bold tie with dark jeans.

The man had been as delicious as the vegetarian enchilada recipe she’d just perfected the night before.

She’d felt the connection with him when she introduced herself to the room. And then he’d leaned in.

Leaned in.

And all her brain’s warnings about him being a player among the ladies had gone right out the window.

She’d had his attention, and for whatever asinine reason, her biochemistry had embraced that heady feeling and made her consider falling in love all over again. Or at least lust.

She was such a sucker. She’d thought she’d seen something in the way he’d tuned in to her talk, as though he understood the dietary language she was speaking. Feeling emboldened—stupid heady feelings—she’d cracked a joke about the difference between boogers and broccoli.

He’d replied instantly with the punch line that kids didn’t eat broccoli. Then he’d given her a ghost of a smile and pulled back, locking her out of that irresistible connection they’d been enjoying.

Okay, okay, so sometimes she wasn’t cool or sexy. She was a bit of a book nerd and a rule follower. And immature. Because who told booger jokes to a roomful of hot jocks?

Aware she’d put him off, she’d focused on her talk, babbling about a favorite recipe.

Walnut carrot pancakes that were low glycemic and hearty.

Great for an athlete looking for a sharp carb increase, but not an accompanying spike in sugar levels.

But the more she talked, the tighter his jaw got.

Feeling she was losing him, and therefore probably all the other players in the room, she’d decided to get personal.

She’d told them about her family’s game night and how they made breakfast for supper those nights, and that the pancake recipe with all the toppings were their all-time favorite.

She’d then grabbed the stack of recipes and turned to him, worried about the flexing in his jaw. “Chadwick?” she’d said softly, handing him a recipe. “Do you want carrot pancakes?”

The sheet wavered in the air between them.

“Chad?”

He’d snatched the page and crumpled it, dropping it onto the table in front of him, jaw so tight she worried about his molars.

“I don’t do pancakes.”

And that had been it. The atmosphere had changed, the fun sucked from her talk, a tone set that she couldn’t ever quite undo.

“You don’t want a good-looking, recognizable pro hockey player on the cover of your cookbook for athletes?” Aurora asked Athena, steering her thoughts away from Memory Lane and back to the problem at hand.

“No, I do.” She just didn’t want him . If she’d wanted a player on the front, she could have found one.

“His face will sell tons of copies,” her agent said. Her tone suggested the paperwork with Chad had already been signed by the publisher and the call was mere courtesy.

“So, he’s going to be on the cover?”

“And we’re going to fit him into your marketing plan.”

“My marketing plan?” Realizing she sounded like a petulant preschooler, Athena sucked in a deep breath.

Seriously though? She’d tried cutting the belligerent rule-breaker from her life and now here he was back in full force like an infestation.

He’d done this on purpose.

He’d done this to show her who was boss, who held the cards.

Damn him, but she kind of respected the audacity of his crafty ploy.

“Fine,” she said carefully, shaking her head at the predicament of her own making. “What do you have in mind?”

“You’d pitched a YouTube cooking channel in your book proposal. They’re setting that up for you as we speak.”

“But it was nixed.” Athena dropped a box of books near the back door in frustration, then gripped her phone tighter and stretched her neck while she returned for another load. “They told me I don’t have the right flair to be an online personality.”

Her phone beeped with an incoming call. Her dad. She ignored it, making a mental note to call him back.

“Mullens is on board,” Aurora said, “and so is the marketing department so they’ve decided to go ahead with it.”

“He doesn’t even cook!” Didn’t someone have to clear these kinds of marketing changes with her since they involved her?

“You’ll teach him. He’ll bring the celebrity and you’ll bring the cooking skills. You’ll act as foils to each other. But don’t go to the extreme. You’ll need to lighten up and be fun.”

“I am light and fun.”

Well, she used to be. Before life got so serious. There were only so many if-it-doesn’t-kill-you kind of experiences a woman could take before they dampened her sunshiny optimism.

“Marketing is sending you a filming coach. The publisher is fully on board with all of this.” There was a hint of warning in Aurora’s voice.

“What’s a filming coach?”

Her phone beeped again with another incoming call. Her dad, Neandro, again.

“His name’s Howell. He’ll critique your on-camera personality.

Give you tips and all of that so you’re not overshadowed by Mullens.

He’ll help you develop your personal brand, and we’ll steer you away from anything too bookish and inaccessible personality-wise.

Okay? Nothing boring. All dazzle-dazzle sunshine and entertaining fun. ”

Athena stared around the bookstore’s back room and the towers of boxes surrounding her. Nothing bookish? And was her agent calling her boring and no fun?

Was Chad right? Did she take herself too seriously? Was she creating barriers between herself and others with her seriousness and drive?

She used to be fun. Used to laugh.

Or maybe she was just hanging out with the wrong people and they simply didn’t appreciate her bookishness and found it all a bit boring.

She shook her head. Spending time with hockey players and publishers was getting to her. She was fine. She was accomplishing amazing things with her life.

Even if she was a bit overwhelmed by the idea of suddenly having to create a few meals in front of a camera, plus developing her own brand. It was the biggest challenge she’d yet to face.

Did she even have time for this?

Putting together a second cookbook was supposed to be a fast and easy project, but was quickly becoming a third job.

Or was it her fourth? She was team dietician, something she could do in her sleep.

She was starting a business with her younger sister, which was a bit out of either of their depths.

She’d just finished creating recipes for the new cookbook—tested on the team, of course—and now had to build herself an online personality?

But a cooking show. She really wanted that.

She’d even play nice with Mr. Hot Stuff Playboy in order to get it.

Not that she’d ever tell Chadwick Mullens she needed him.

“Howell will come by tomorrow. We’d like you to use recipes from both cookbooks.”