My Phony Valentine (Holidays with Hart, #1)

by Courtney Walsh

With food, cultures are transcended, walls are broken down, heartfelt stories are seasoned and salted. There’s a reason that the kitchen is called “the heart of the home.” It’s where love is blended.

Adulting is hard. Even at twenty-eight, I haven’t mastered it. There are moments when I don't want to be strong, or independent, or responsible. There are moments I want someone else to take the risk, or make the decision, or tell me what to do.

“Poppy, all the blood has drained from your cheeks. You’re like ten shades paler than usual. And that’s saying something because you’re already very pale.” He reaches over and pokes my cheek. “Just checking to make sure you’re not secretly the walking dead.”