There's always something good to read on Cover Reveals: If You Can't Stand the Heat by Taryn Kincaid

Cover & Excerpt

If You Can't Stand the Heat
by Taryn Kincaid
Give Me a Taste Book Three

Things really heat up when a mouth-watering hero's behind the stove. And his dishes aren't the only thing that sizzles!

Derek Dunne is a Cordon Bleu-trained food critic for the prestigious New York Monitor, whose scathing review of a popular Italian bistro has driven away all but the most loyal neighborhood patrons.

Lucrezia Serafina DiCicco is a clumsy business school drop-out, working as a chef and scrambling to keep her family's restaurant afloat, after her father develops diabetes and is banned from his kitchen for his own good.

Now, with The Monitor folding, Derek is searching for his next career path and longing to get back to his first love—cooking—while Lu is desperate for an influx of cash to save the struggling restaurant even as her father puts his foot down regarding non-family employees.

Derek and Lu embark on a marriage of inconvenience to save the restaurant. But can Lu ever really trust the man who nearly destroyed her family and once noted her initials spelled “LSD” and her food was like a “bad trip?” Or will it be their hearts on the chopping block?

Genre: Contemporary Romance
Content/Theme(s): Foodie, Chefs, Food Critic, Restaurant
Release Date: February 24, 2015
Publisher: Fated Desires

Excerpt & More

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Excerpt:
She brushed her hands on her apron and straightened her shoulders as she strode toward the bar. Not in the mood. So not in the mood. As if the hunky stranger had come here looking for a hook-up, rather than to send back his too-salty pasta fagiole or rubbery calamari or register some other grievance.

She looked a fright besides. The moon might resemble a pizza pie but amore did not live anywhere in the restaurant anymore, except in its name. As that bastard Derek Dunne had pointed out in his review. Vicious…but truthful, she had to admit.

As she approached the customer, she positioned herself with her back to the mirror over the bar, so she didn’t have to gaze at her sorry reflection. At least no one else was at the bar to gawk at her frazzled condition.

The man swirled a pool of condensation on the burled wood with his index finger. Strong hands. No rings, she noted. Up close and personal, his looks were even more devastating, the essence of hearty masculinity radiating raw, contained power, his body taut with muscles beneath a finely-tailored suit that stretched across broad shoulders, his blue eyes intense enough to put her in a near trance. She gazed at his long, blunt fingers playing restlessly on the bar and imagined him sliding them across her heated flesh. Making her wet. Thrusting inside her. His thumb stroking her clit until it swelled, the pleasure so unbearable he had her writhing with passion, screaming for release.

Holy cannoli! What the heck was wrong with her? Was she that desperate? Yeah, probably. And yeah, he looked that good. Good enough to eat. With or without whipped cream and chocolate sauce. Oh, yeah. That image helped cool down her roaring libido. Not.

Suppressing a shiver, she cleared her throat. “I’m Lu DiCicco. You wanted to see me?”

Did she imagine the way that lethal body stiffened? The sharp intake of breath? Maybe he smelled something bad coming from the kitchen. Or worse…from her. She sniffed. No smoke. No burnt garlic or singed broccoli rabe. No rotten fish. Despite the sweat running down her neck into her cleavage…her antiperspirant seemed to be doing its job. So far so good. She exhaled.

“Lu?” His tone telegraphed confusion that cracked the invisible force field that seemed to surround him, making him seem more approachable. But his deep voice made her light-headed. Had she had lunch today? She couldn’t remember. Gah. If she toppled over now and paramedics had to drag her out of the restaurant on a stretcher it would totally be the amaretto buttercream on the almond torte. But hellfire, that voice. Like dark, rich espresso with the density of treacle.
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