Publication date: December 15th 2020
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Romance

Tara Heinz began her modeling career at the tender age of twelve. After spending fifteen years drooling over forbidden foods, she does the unthinkable. She enrolls in culinary school and becomes a pastry chef.

After a nasty breakup with her rock star boyfriend that leads to tabloid war, Tara takes a job at a rural lodge in Oregon to escape the spotlight she no longer desires.

James Cavanaugh is a farmer in Oregon. His days are spent building his business and his nights are spent sleeping, so he can get up at four in the morning.

Ruby Cavanaugh has plans for her son that involve her new pastry chef. Of course, neither James nor Tara know what’s going on until it’s too late.

Excerpt

Things I Like About Modeling

Yup, pretty sure it’s time for a change.

After arranging an assortment of gourds on her newspaper-covered dining room table, Ruby picks up her telephone to call her oldest son, Brogan. “How are you and Addie doing?” she wants to know. As the first recipients of her matchmaking endeavor, the success of their union is integral to her confidence in setting up her younger son, James, with her new pastry chef.

“She’s great. We’re great. New York is beautiful in the fall.”

Whoever said glitter was the herpes of the crafting world never fully appreciated its hypnotic effects, Ruby thinks while spraying gold glitter paint. “I knew you two were meant to be.”

“I don’t know how you decided that, but I’m glad you did. For a while there I thought you were trying to set Addison up with James. Speaking of which, how are things going between him and Tara?”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asks, trying—and failing—to sound innocent.

“Don’t try to tell me you haven’t set your sights on her for my little brother.”

After several moments, Ruby dejectedly confesses, “It’s been hard finding ways to throw them together now that James’s farmstand is mostly closed for the season. I’ve had to resort to hiring your brother to put in a garden here at the lodge.”

“Interesting. I’m not sure I should offer, but let me know if I can do anything to help.”

“You and Addie are still coming home for Christmas, right?”

“Yes, ma’am. We arrive the second week of December and are planning on staying until the first week of March. I’ll be working on my new novel and Addie is going to commute to a hotel she’s redesigning in Portland.”

Ruby walks around the table, eyeing her decorative fall creation before firing off a final burst of sparkle. “I might need your help then. In the meantime, don’t bring up Tara’s name when you talk to James. I don’t want him to guess what I’m up to until it’s too late.”

“You make me nervous, Mom, but you did such a great job for me that I promise not to interfere in your latest project.”

“Good. Now, I’ve got to go. Your brother will be here any minute to meet with Tara about the dessert portion of the garden.”

“Does he know he’s meeting with her?” Brogan asks.

“Of course not. What fun would that be? Bye!” Ruby hangs up on her son before he has a chance to reply. After refreshing her lipstick and picking invisible lint from her sweater, she’s off to make another love connection.

James is dawdling behind me on the way back to the lodge from the garden site. He’s moving as quickly as if he were on his way to have his legs amputated. “Hurry up, I have tons of stuff to do today,” I snap at him.

“I think I’ll just head home,” he says, veering his trajectory toward the parking lot.

“Get back here,” I order. “For some reason, your mom wants me involved in this garden. Being that she’s my boss, I’m going to do what she’s asked. Unless you want me to tell her you can’t be bothered consulting me, that is.”

“Are you seven years old? You’re going to tell my mom on me?”

He’s got a point. James definitely brings out the child in me, and not in a good way.

“The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can part ways,” I tell him. I don’t think I’ve ever annoyed a man as much as I do this one. Okay, there was that makeup artist who told me his makeup brush wasn’t a wand when I complained about how he applied my blush, but other than him, I usually get on pretty well with men.

“What kind of flowers do you want in the garden?” James asks like it’s causing him physical pain to do so.

“Obviously nasturtiums and roses, but I’d like dahlias, pansies, and violets, too.”

“Obviously …” he mumbles under his breath before asking louder, “What about hops?”

“I make a mean, stout brownie. I could use hops in it to add a sort of sedative effect.” Desserts tend to use a lot of things that are meant to soothe the palate after a big meal. Mint and lavender are two of the more common herbs, but hops would be a nice addition.

James interrupts my thoughts by asking, “Why did you come to Oregon?” He sounds perturbed again, or should I say, still.

“Clearly, because I somehow knew it would irritate you and I couldn’t help myself,” I fire back.

“Seriously,” his tone evens out to an almost conversational level. “You don’t seem the type to live someplace outside of the fast lane.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I know plenty. For instance, I know you were on the cover of the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition four times by the time you were twenty-five, I know you were engaged to Romaine Choate, and I know you can swear in French.”

“Caught that episode of Jimmy Fallon, did you?”

“I think the whole world watched that one.” His eyes twinkle with amusement.

“Part of the fun of being interviewed on late night television is the ability to be a bit salty. I simply took advantage of the situation.” Not to mention, Jimmy Fallon has a decent sense of humor about himself and he likes when people don’t fawn all over him. Although, I’m sure he would have forgiven me almost anything thanks to the dress I was wearing. Men seem to have a hard time concentrating when an attractive woman is practically painted into her clothes.

A whisper of a smile crosses James’s face before he says, “It takes talent to call someone an effing gasbag and have them laugh at it.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were a fan.”

He rears up and stops moving as soon as the words are out of my mouth. “Fan? No. I may have appreciated your physical attributes from time to time, but I was never a fan. Please disabuse yourself of that notion immediately.”

“Yet I recall your mom telling me that you hung my posters on your wall when you were in high school.” I can’t help myself; I have to tease him about that.

“Just because I liked the way you look on the outside doesn’t mean I like you.”

“That’s very superficial,” I tell him.

“Seems to me the whole modeling business is superficial. You’d think you’d know that being part of it for so long.”

There is no getting along with this guy, so I stop trying. We make the rest of the trek back to the lodge in total silence, which is far preferable to the conversation we had been having.

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About the Author

Whitney loves to laugh, play with her kids, bake, and eat french fries -- not always in that order.

Whitney is a multi-award-winning author of romcoms, non-fiction humor, and middle reader fiction. Basically, she writes whatever the voices in her head tell her to.

She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, Jimmy, where they raise children, chickens, and organic vegetables.

Gold Medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2017.

Silver medal winner at the International Readers' Favorite Awards, 2015, 2016.

Finalist RONE Awards, 2016.

Finalist at the IRFA 2016, 2017.

Finalist at the Book Excellence Awards, 2017

Finalist Top Shelf Indie Book Awards, 2017

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