By midnight, the cookies were perfect, but Noelle was finally claimed. Silas didn't just help her finish the order; he carried her out the door, locked the bakery, and drove her to his mountain cabin, where the tree was tall and the promises were forever.
He walked toward her, his large frame making the bakery kitchen feel tiny. When he reached her, he didn't pick up a spatula. Instead, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his thumb lingering on her jaw. Alexa Riley - His Christmas Cookie.pdf
Silas leaned down, his lips brushing against hers, tasting like sugar and pure intent. "I know exactly what I want for Christmas. And she’s standing right in front of me." By midnight, the cookies were perfect, but Noelle
The deep, gravelly voice made her spin around. Standing in the doorway of her kitchen was Silas Vane. Silas was the town’s most successful—and most reclusive—architect. He was also the man who had bought every single one of her "Broken Heart" brownies every day for the last month just to see her smile. When he reached her, he didn't pick up a spatula
"Then we finish together," he decided, already rolling up his expensive shirt sleeves to reveal tattooed forearms. "Show me what to do. But fair warning, Noelle—once these cookies are done, you’re mine. I’m taking you home, putting you by the fire, and I’m never letting you go."
The flour on Noelle’s nose was the only thing standing between her and a complete holiday meltdown. As the owner of The Sugared Spatula , she had three hundred gingerbread men to decorate before the town’s Christmas Eve gala, and her piping bag had just exploded. "Need a hand, Little Cookie?"
Silas didn't move. He just looked at her with an intensity that made the industrial ovens feel cold. "I don't care about the codes, and you’re the most beautiful thing in this room. Even covered in frosting."