Forbidden Love

Conceited, unattainable, and downright delicious, renowned Michelin-starred chef Ambrose Casablancas has one passion in life: food. Women are a distraction, and he doesn’t do those. Especially Cal Litvin, his baby sister’s best friend. Her entire existence is a complication; she’s awkward, eccentric, infuriating… And, much to his chagrin, hotter than his kitchen. Ambrose has a lot on his plate: a new restaurant to open, a multi-million-dollar property deal to execute, and a violent stalker to tame. Then Cal shows up at his doorstep.

Conceited, unattainable, and downright delicious, renowned Michelin-starred chef Ambrose Casablancas has one passion in life―food. Women are a distraction, and he doesn't do those. Especially not Cal Litvin, his little sister's best friend. Although the two of them have a secret shared past, now her entire existence is a complication for him: she's awkward, eccentric, infuriating . . . and she's also hotter than his kitchen.

Dylan Casablancas is a forbidden fruit, Undeniably delicious, but one bite just might kill you. She’s my best friend’s baby sister, a single mom, and a royal pain in the ass. When Little Miss Baggage moves downstairs to house-sit her brother’s Manhattan apartment, my potential business partner mistakes us as a couple. He wants a family guy. I want access to his billions.

Rhyland: Dylan Casablancas is a forbidden fruit, undeniably delicious, but one bite just might kill you. She's my best friend's baby sister, a single mom, and a royal pain in the ass. When Little Miss Baggage moves downstairs to house-sit her brother's Manhattan apartment, my potential business partner mistakes us as a couple. Dylan: Rhyland Coltridge is out of the question. Unless the question is: "Who's the biggest man-whore you've ever met?" Hedonistic. Wild card. Utterly corrupt. And those are just the traits the jerk prides himself on.

The third book in the Forbidden Love series - also suitable as a standalone - following Book #1, Truly Madly Deeply. Details coming soon . . .