She wonโt be his flavor of the week. But just a taste wonโt hurtโฆright?
Jenna
I love Lee Bowers. And that sucks.
Heโs my brotherโs best friend, but a bookish nerd like me would never fit into his celebrity-chef, serial-heartbreaker world. I donโt do risks. Lawyering feeds my bank account. Anonymous food blogging feeds my soul.
But one night, in a red-wine-fueled funk, I pour out my feelings in a blog post, safe behind my anonymous mask. And realize too late my drunken fingers hit โPublishโ instead of โDelete.โ
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I am screwed.
Lee
At first, I wanted to skewer the popular food critic who brutally lampooned my restaurantโapparently while simultaneously ogling my butt. But you know what? Sheโs right. The only hands-on time Iโve spent in the kitchen lately involves a hot blonde and, umโฆa zucchini.
Somewhere between my Iโm-gonna-sue fury, and unexpectedly cuddling with Jenna after a night of soul-searing sex, I accidentally discover that bloggerโs identity. And my whole life does a screeching 180.
I love Jenna Harrison. And Iโm going to prove it to her, one anonymous, sexy text message at a time.