#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery turns up the heat with this reader-favorite Fool’s Gold novella about food, finding yourself and falling in love
Ana Raquel’s greatest passion is food: she’s a gifted chef with the experience to prove it. Armed with an Airstream trailer-turned-mobile-kitchen, she’s back in her hometown of Fool’s Gold, California, ready to make her dreams of running her own kitchen come true. There’s just one problem—one tall, dark-eyed, utterly exasperating problem: Greg Clary, her archnemesis.
Greg has always one-upped her at everything. He even has a restaurant in Fool’s Gold that’s wildly successful. And when the mayor asks Ana to collaborate with Greg on a cookbook, she’s forced to confront her unresolved feelings for him. Ana can craft the most delicate soufflé, but can she navigate the desire of her own heart?
A Fool’s Gold series novella.
SWEETER
THAN YOU
Susan Mallery
Dear Reader,
Sweeter with You first appeared in the Fool’s Gold Cookbook, with scenes strategically woven between the delicious recipes. Although it’s a short novella, it was probably the most challenging story I’ve ever written because the word count for each scene was so specific. I’d write a scene, refer to the chart provided by my publisher, then edit to reach the exact right length. At one point, a friend jokingly suggested that I just delete the word “the” from the whole story. Problem solved!
When Harlequin said they wanted to make Ana Raquel and Greg’s story available as a stand-alone short novella, I was a bit apprehensive that it would feel disjointed, but I was pleasantly surprised. I found myself charmed by this adorable couple all over again. All of Ana Raquel’s assumptions about the most annoying man in Fool’s Gold were wrong—Greg’s a great guy...the perfect guy for her.
Nothing is more delicious than a dish served with love. And so, with love, I’m proud to serve you this tempting little morsel from Fool’s Gold. Bon appétit!
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
EXCERPT FROM BEST OF MY LOVE BY SUSAN MALLERY
CHAPTER ONE
ANA RAQUEL HOPKINS knew for sure that Greg Clary was the most annoying man on the planet. He was the kind of annoying that got under your skin and made you want to scream. It was like being in the mood for guacamole only to discover that someone had taken all your deliciously ripe avocados. Or, worse, taken them and made their guacamole out of those avocados and now people were saying it was better than yours. That was how annoying Greg Clary was.
Ana Raquel stared at the sign hanging from the rustic building at the Condor Valley Winery in the fall afternoon. The hand-carved square of wood said only Café. So simple, so right. While she’d been off studying the art of cooking, Greg had been working his way up the kitchen ranks right here in Fool’s Gold. Six months ago he’d opened Café in his uncle’s winery and the restaurant was getting rave reviews. Everyone was talking about it. And Greg.
After graduating from culinary school, she, too, had worked in restaurants, but hers had been in San Francisco. After a couple of years, she’d discovered that while she loved making delicious food for people, she didn’t love working in a restaurant. A visit to a street fair had introduced her to the magic that was street food—delectable concoctions made in a mobile kitchen. She’d saved her money, bought an old Airstream and had it refurbished as her traveling kitchen. Then she’d brought it home to Fool’s Gold, where she planned to take the culinary world by storm.
Only Greg had beaten her to the punch with his stupid...um, great...Café.
Seventeen years ago, when Ana Raquel was in the second grade, she’d been chosen to be Cinderella in the school play. Greg had been picked to play Prince Charming and, in the end, he’d gotten all the applause. In junior high, they’d both run for student council president. Greg had won, leaving her with the runner-up vice president position. In high school, she’d been nominated for homecoming queen and he’d been nominated for homecoming king.
You can probably guess who won and who didn’t.
All of which she could live with, except for what had happened the night of their senior prom.
The fancy dinner and dance had been held at the Gold Rush Ski Lodge and Resort, just as it was every year. There had been a band and good food. Most of the teens went in groups rather than with dates—one of those town traditions, she supposed. For reasons she still couldn’t explain, Ana Raquel had chosen that night to confront Greg about all his transgressions.
But instead of going up to him and yelling, she’d found herself mesmerized by his dark eyes and easy smile. And maybe a little by how good he looked in a tux. Still, she’d had righteous indignation on her side and she knew she really should be telling him off. Only what should have been yelling somehow turned into kissing. And kissing turned into, well, you know.
She could have lived with the biggest mistake of her life except that, partway through, he’d figured out it was her first time, which meant it wasn’t his. Worse, in the middle of the moment, she’d had a second realization. It was the teeny, tiniest bit possible that she had feelings for Greg. Romantic, what-if-I’ve-secretly-loved-him-my-whole-life kind of feelings.
Talk about a mistake. Greg wasn’t just popular, he was a chick magnet. She would have been little more than one more girl who fell for him. Terrified and humiliated, she’d done the only thing that made sense. She’d run off to culinary school in San Francisco.
Now she was back in Fool’s Gold and all grown-up. She was a nice person, she told herself. Friendly. She liked people and she adored making them happy with her food. If not for Greg, her life would be perfect.
But she had a solution for that problem and an appointment with the town’s mayor to discuss her brilliant idea. One that would help her make a name for herself and get over Greg Clary once and for all.
* * *
MAYOR MARSHA TILSON was the longest-serving mayor in California. She was a well-dressed, white-haired woman who loved her town—idiosyncrasies and all. She welcomed Ana Raquel warmly and led her over to her desk.
“We’re so happy to have you back in Fool’s Gold,” Mayor Marsha said with a smile. “You were missed. You’re always so friendly and enthusiastic. Even when you were little, you looked out for the other children, and now that you’re grown, you’re feeding all of us.”
“Thank you. I’m glad to be here,” Ana Raquel told her. “I learned a lot in San Francisco, but it’s not the same as being home.”
Ana Raquel was one of three girls. Fayrene, her twin, owned a temp agency and pet-sitting service in town, while Dellina, their older sister, ran a party planning and decorating business. The Hopkins women were self-starters.
The mayor picked up a flyer for Ana Raquel’s street cart from her desk. “We’re getting excellent feedback on what you’ve been serving. The locals appreciate another place to go for lunch, while the tourists love both the food and the convenience.”
“I’ve been experimenting a lot with ingredients,” Ana Raquel told her. “You know how specific foods are served at different festivals? Rather than make people wait for their favorites, I’m working on ideas of turning festival specialties into everyday recipes. I created an Elephant Ear Pull-Apart
Bread. It suits the season, but gives us a taste of what we miss.”
“I’ve heard your Carrot Cake Muffins are creating quite a stir. There was something close to a riot over them last week.”
Ana Raquel laughed. “I ran out of muffins and there were still people in line. It got a little loud there in the park.”
The mayor smiled. “I believe that is what they call a high-quality problem. Now tell me about the cookbook you mentioned when you set up our meeting.”
Ana Raquel clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “I want to take what I’ve learned and share it with people on a larger scale. I want to create a cookbook based on the town and what we like to eat here. I thought I could collect recipes from locals who want to share them. I’ll also create some of my own. I was thinking the recipes should be delicious but not too complicated. People are busy and not everyone wants to spend all day in the kitchen. We could call it the Fool’s Gold Cookbook.”
She squeezed her fingers, hoping she could hide her sudden nerves. She wanted the mayor to be excited about the cookbook idea.
Mayor Marsha leaned back in her chair. “That’s very interesting,” she murmured. “I like the concept. Ironically, someone else came to me last week with a similar plan. Given that you both have cookbook ideas, I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of inviting him to join us.”
Even as she spoke, Mayor Marsha was standing and motioning for someone to enter the room. Ana Raquel knew who it was before she bothered to turn around. Because there was only one person who would invade her meeting and steal her idea.
CHAPTER TWO
“HELLO, ANA RAQUEL.”
Ana Raquel stood and turned toward the man standing next to her. She hadn’t seen Greg in six years. She could have gone the next sixty without seeing him and been totally happy. She sat—mostly because her legs gave out. He took the chair next to her.
She opened her mouth to tell him that she didn’t want him at her meeting, only suddenly she couldn’t speak. Even though he was sitting, she had the sense that he was much taller than she remembered. His shoulders were broader. He seemed so much more like a man than the teenager she remembered from prom night.
His eyes were the same dark brown, as was his hair, and his mouth had a familiar half smile, as if he found her endlessly amusing. Which was probably true, but she doubted he was laughing with her.
“Greg,” she managed, despite the fact that her mouth was dry.
“Your street food has everyone talking,” he said. “I tried your Curried Chicken Salad over the summer. I like how you mixed in—”
“No, you didn’t,” she interrupted.
One dark eyebrow rose. “Are you saying I didn’t like it or I didn’t have it?”
“You didn’t have it. You couldn’t have. I would have noticed.” Having Greg standing in her lunch line would have gotten her attention in a big way.
His expression relaxed and the amused curve returned to his mouth. “I sent a friend. I had a feeling that if I tried to buy something from you, I’d find a frying pan hurtling toward my head.”
Ana Raquel felt herself flushing. She stared down at her still-twisting fingers. “I would never hurt a paying customer,” she murmured.
“I think you’d make an exception for me.”
She looked up at him. “I don’t dislike you,” she told him firmly.
Now both eyebrows rose.
“Not exactly,” she added. “It’s just...”
“Yes?”
“You’re so annoying.”
Greg surprised her by laughing. The warm, happy sound flowed through her like a sweet, melted ganache. Before she could figure out what to think let alone what to say, the soft sound of a throat clearing reminded her that they weren’t the only ones in the room.
She returned her attention to the mayor.
“Sorry.”
“Not at all.” Mayor Marsha smiled at them both. “Greg, I was just telling Ana Raquel that the Fool’s Gold Cookbook is too big a job for one person. Since you’ve both thought of it, the obvious solution is for the two of you to work on it together.”
She glared at Greg. “You thought of a cookbook, too? One based on home recipes and a few favorites from our restaurants? With some street food thrown in for fun?”
His dark gaze was steady. “Yes. I spoke with the mayor about it last week.”
Mayor Marsha nodded in agreement. “Great minds,” she said cheerfully.
Right, Ana Raquel thought glumly. Easy for the mayor to be happy. She wasn’t the one who had once again been one-upped by Greg Clary.
Ana Raquel glanced at the mayor. She was well and truly trapped. Either she did the cookbook with Greg or she backed out. In which case he would do it on his own. It wasn’t the glory that she would miss. It was that she knew exactly how she wanted the book to be. There was no way she was going to let him compromise her vision.
“Fine,” she said firmly. “We’ll work on it together.”
CHAPTER THREE
ANA RAQUEL AND GREG walked out to the City Hall parking lot. She was hoping to come up with a brilliant reason he couldn’t help her with the cookbook project, but nothing came to mind. When they reached their cars—hers, a beat-up old pickup, and his, a shiny new blue SUV—she decided to accept the inevitable but try to stay in control of the situation.
“We should get together and discuss how we’re going to approach the cookbook,” she told him. “I have a lot of ideas.”
He nodded. “Me, too. I’ve already spoken to Colleen at the Fool’s Gold Daily Republic.”
“Why would you talk to the newspaper editor?”
“I thought she might want to have someone write a story on what we’re doing. We could get input from the community.”
“That makes sense,” Ana Raquel murmured. She’d been thinking of putting up a few flyers, asking for recipe submissions, but an article in the local paper was more efficient and a good calling card. While the rest of the world had gone digital to get its news, here in Fool’s Gold, the daily paper was still alive and well. One of the advantages of small-town living, she supposed.
“I know a lot of families have recipes that have been passed down for generations,” she said. “Those would be fun to go through.”
“You’re going to include your grandmother’s fried chicken recipe, aren’t you?”
She stared at him. “How do you know about that?”
He grinned. “Your mom invited the whole student council over for dinner one year. That’s what she served. She told us how her mom had taught her to make it and how she’d taught you.”
Ana Raquel remembered the evening very well. Her parents had found Greg oh-so-charming and didn’t understand why she was upset that he’d defeated her for the student council presidency. She was surprised that he would recall something as simple as a fried chicken dinner.
“I was planning on putting that one in the cookbook,” she said slowly.
“Good.” He flashed her another smile. “I’ve been trying to duplicate the recipe myself, but I don’t have it right. Now I can find out what ingredient I’ve been leaving out.”
He was being so nice, she thought, confused by his friendliness. She had always thought they were sworn enemies. Or at least people who didn’t get along. How embarrassing that she seemed to be the only one showing up for the fight.
“Are you free Monday?” he asked. “The restaurant is closed. We can meet at my place.”
She was suddenly curious about where Greg lived. “Your place would be great. I serve lunch until two-thirty. So say four?”
He nodded and gave her his address. “Great. I’ll prepare us a little something and we can get to work on the cookbook. See you then.”
He got in his SUV and drove away. An
a Raquel was left standing in the parking lot with the growing sense that Greg was not who she remembered at all.
CHAPTER FOUR
GREG LIVED ON the edge of the Condor Valley Winery. Ana Raquel parked next to his SUV, then circled around the side of the house to take in the views from the backyard. To the south and west were the vineyards. They were thick and lush with heavy grapes. She didn’t know much about making wine, but she was pretty sure the harvest would start in a few weeks.
To the east were the mountains of the Sierra Nevada. In the winter, they would be covered with snow. Fortunately, the town was high enough to get a little snow, but it rarely amounted to more than a few inches at a time. With the mountains so close, you could experience all the thrill without so much of the hassle.
She turned her attention to the house. It was a cabin-style one-story. Small but appealing. There were probably a couple of bedrooms and a single bath. Enough space for one person, she thought. Greg wasn’t married. He was—
Ana Raquel started toward the house only to stop suddenly. The local rumor mill was quite efficient and she heard most of what was going on. But knowing that Greg wasn’t married was different from knowing whether he was dating someone. Not that she was interested for herself—it was just that if he had a girlfriend, the cookbook project could be even more complicated. There would be long evenings and weekends perfecting recipes. Arguments about style and placement. She didn’t want some nonfoodie offering her opinion because she was being protective of her boyfriend.
In fact, if Greg was seeing someone, there was simply no way this project could work, she thought as she marched around the house and up the front steps. She would tell him that and he could back out. Then she would do it all herself, which would be just fine. Because she wasn’t interested in working with a guy who dated a girl like that. Someone so possessive and willing to stick her nose in where it didn’t belong.
The front door opened and the man in question smiled at her.
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