by M. K. Moore
Love & Candy Canes
The Ice Cream Shop, Book 29
M.K. Moore
Love & Candy Canes (Ice Cream Shop Series, Book 29)
By MK Moore
© MK Moore 2019 Flirty Filth Publishing.
All Rights Reserved
By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.
This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.
Cover created by KL Fast
Created with Vellum
Contents
Blurb
1. Savannah Echols
2. Emmerich Tresoro
3. Savannah
4. Emmerich
5. Savannah
6. Emmerich
7. Savannah
8. Emmerich
Epilogue
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other books by MK Moore
About the Author
Dedicated to polkagris. The original Candy Cane. Also dedicated to instalove. It’s real and it’s sexy as sin.
Blurb
Savannah Echols, celebrity chef, is tired of being alone, but also tired of guys who play games. So naturally, she is leery of the handsome man she meets at the beach, but not for long.
Emmerich Tresoro, heir to the Tresoro Family Ice Cream Co., sees her from the boardwalk in Atlantic City and sets out to claim her. One look and he is done.
He is not above using her weakness, an ice cream his company discontinued, to win her heart.
Grown men don’t play games, they claim what’s theirs.
The Candy Cane ice cream isn’t the only thing melting this July.
Will Savannah scream for ice cream or Emmerich? Since this is a smutty sweet treat, I’d bet on both.
This is a safe, HEA, short story with an alpha who never shares.
1
Savannah Echols
July 29th, 2019
Finally! My two-week vacation starts right now and the first thing I decided to do is hit the beach. All I have to do is walk out of my condo and right onto the sand. Ahh, it’s good to be back. In fact, I’ve lived here in Atlantic City my entire life. My parents still live in the house I grew up over on Lighthouse Court in the Uptown District. Now that I'm in a fantastic condo that is right on the beach, I have freedom, but I am still within five minutes of my parents. It's really nice to have them nearby. My sister, Paris, still lives at home since she is only seventeen. We can have our space but if I need anything or vice versa, we are literally seconds away from each other. I love it here. It may just be hometown pride, but I love my city. I love the beach, the boardwalk, the casinos, and the giant outlet mall nearby. I love absolutely everything about it.
As a chef on TV, I am always traveling here, there, and everywhere. Most recently, I was in Niagara Falls in order to judge a cooking competition that focused on surf and turf. My latest show, Supper with Savannah is on the American Food Club channel Wednesday nights at eight. The studio is in New York and I film several episodes a week. Do you know how challenging it is to come up with several unique recipes a week? I do and it sucks. I’m emotionally and physically exhausted, but my career is going places and I have to be able to keep up with it. Being too tired to think won't cut it. Delicious Eats, my last show, was a better premise. It consisted of me showing up at fancy restaurants all over the country while they showcase their own recipes. It was a cushy job and it happened to be fun. I got to eat all the food and be on camera. I should never have pushed for more. I think I’m burnt out, to be honest. I have been working in kitchens since I was thirteen. I worked my way up from the bottom. I went to culinary school while still in high school finishing a couple of months after I graduated. I'm twenty-four now. It's been six years of working non-stop toward my dream.
I just don't know my dreams are about these days. I've given up trying to decipher them. I figure eventually it'll work it out.
Lucky for me, I’m still young enough to get it right.
My down to earth cooking style and ten-minute healthy meals are super popular with women who are between the ages of eighteen to forty-five and I take my job seriously. Throughout the course of my career, I’ve participated in many illustrious competitions and won several of them. Last year, I was in a popular dance competition tv show and came in second. That was extremely fun. I have a Michelin star-rated restaurant in Manhattan and people recognize me wherever I go. Even with all that, I am still lonely. So lonely. I mean I have my family, but it’s not the same. I want what my parents have. Is that too much to ask for?
I am reading the latest Nora Roberts novel while sitting in one of the lounge chairs sitting out here. The sun is all I need to recharge my batteries. I don’t have a lot of time to decompress on most days. Despite being on vacation, I have a prior commitment to be at Good Morning, AC in three days for a spot on the morning show, which I don’t necessarily want to do, but my agent says I have to for the book deal she has in the works for me. Well a cookbook really, but a book is a book according to Wendy. So, I am trying to cram as much fun and relaxation as I can into these two days, because I know once I turn up to that morning show, Wendy is going to have a million other things that I need to do.
Getting back into the book is easy, but once I finish the chapter, I’m on, I get up and walk out to the water’s edge to take a quick swim. I feel like I am boiling in this heat and the cool water feels amazing on my skin, though my white suit seems like a mistake now.
As I get out of the water, I can see straight through the material to my hard nipples. Shit. That was not my intention. Embarrassed, I rush back to my chair and pull my cover-up back on. Hopefully, no one saw me. Despite being on TV, in my personal life, I am shy as hell. I get ready to walk back home. I am tentatively supposed to meet my sister for pizza and a movie, but she hasn’t called me yet. I double check my phone to be sure. It’s already six.
I start to pack my things up when a shadow comes over me. I look up and see the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life. He’s wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt, some swim trunks and a pair of boat shoes. Whoa. My heart skips a beat.
“Hi,” he says, taking off his sunglasses. His eyes are a whiskey color and so rich I know I could get lost in them. His voice gives me fucking goosebumps. Goosebumps in ninety-five-degree weather. That should be impossible, right?
“Hi,” I say breathlessly.
“I’m Emmerich Tresoro. I noticed you from the boardwalk.” His voice has me mesmerized. So much so, that I forget to answer him. “Sweets?” he questions, jarring me to the present. I am not even sure where I was.
“I’m Savannah Echols and the boardwalk huh?” I ask looking over at the boardwalk. “The boardwalk is like a thousand feet from here,” I say. Shit, do
I look like a blimp or something? Fuck, I hope not. Being around delicious and interesting food all the time, I eat a lot. I am what I would consider to be curvy. Not skinny and not exactly fat, but definitely bigger than the average woman.
“I have excellent eyesight,” he says chuckling.
“So, um, how can I help you?” I ask, standing up. I am more than a little mortified. Man alive, even standing he’s at least half a foot taller than me. Did I mention he has a beard?
“Let me buy you dinner?” He poses it as a question, but he says it so casually that it seems like he’s been asking me forever.
“I could eat,” I say, sassily shrugging. I have no idea who I am right now, but I am going to go with it. He takes my bright pink beach bag with navy blue anchors from my hand and slings it over his shoulder. I smile. With his other hand, he takes mine and leads from the sand onto the sidewalk. With our hands clasped, I feel as if everything in the world is right. How can that be? I literally just know his name. We walk the thousand feet over to the boardwalk.
“What do you feel like having?” he asks.
“Pizza?” I ask. I am a cheap date I guess, though I wouldn’t actually know that since I’ve never been on one. I also don’t know if this is a date.
“Sounds good. Gio’s is up ahead and it is really good.” He leads me in the direction of the famed pizza place. It’s on the opposite end of the boardwalk from where we are.
“I know. It’s my favorite. I get it every time I am home.” I usually just get delivery. I haven’t been inside since I was a little girl.
“So, you are from AC then?”
“Oh yeah. You?”
“Port Republic.” Something in the back of mind dings at the mention of Port Republic and the fact his last name is Tresoro, but I push it aside.
“Ah, a local boy then,” I say laughing.
“Near enough, but I assure you I am all man," he says it like I don't know that. Oh God, do I know that.
“So, what brings you to the beach?”
“I had to get some air. My cousin is getting married tomorrow. We are here for his bachelor party.” At the mention of marriage, I discreetly check his left hand and thankfully it is ring-free. Thank God. I am not a homewrecker.
“Oh, strippers or poker?”
“Unfortunately, both. Neither is my scene.”
“Well, this must be a terrible weekend for you then,” I say, but I stumble over my words because he has started to rub little circles over the underside of my hand with his thumb.
“It’s getting better. Much better.” I smile. We arrive at the restaurant and I am so glad that the place is beachy. I am completely underdressed for anywhere else. We sit at one of the indoor picnic tables, within seconds a waitress appears as if from nowhere. She notices Emmerich but to his credit he doesn’t pay her any special attention.
“Welcome to Gio’s. I’m Harley. I’ll be your waitress. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have any IPA you have on tap,” I say handing over my ID.
“Savannah Echols, from TV?”
“Yes,” I say smiling.
“Oh My God! Daddy!” she yells as she rushes away from the table.
“TV?” he questions.
“It’s nothing, really,” I say downplaying the situation.
Suddenly, an adorable older man covered in sauce and flour approaches the table.
“The Savannah Echols in our little pizza place? To what do we owe the honor?” he asks, extremely excited.
“I’m just getting dinner with my new friend here. I don’t mean to cause a scene. I love your pizza. It’s the best around.”
“That means a lot coming from you. Can we take your picture for the wall of fame?”
“Of course,” I say standing up. Harley appears with her phone and I stand next to Gio and smile my “work smile.”
“Thank you so much. Everything is on the house tonight. Enjoy. I really must get back to the ovens.”
“I totally understand. If you send me that picture, I will put it on my social media,” I say shaking the man’s hand.
“That would be amazing,” Harley says. We exchange information and my phone goes off with the pic. I sit back down to a shell shocked Emmerich. “All right, you wanted the IPA and for you sir?” she asks.
“Anything domestic on tap will be fine,” he says.
“Coming right up,” she says before walking away.
“So, what was that all about?” he asks me. I smile.
“I am a TV chef. I have two shows on the American Food Club Channel currently. I’ve done other shows as well.”
“Were you on Dance Stars?” he asks rubbing his chin.
“Oh God. I was last year. Are you a fan?”
“No, but my mom is. She was sick last year, and my brother and I took turns spending the evening with her. I watched every episode of that season.”
“Is she doing better?”
“Yes, much. Her cancer is in remission, thank God.” He looks so sad when he says that, so I reach out and touch his hand, taking it into mine.
“That is so good to hear.”
“Yeah. It was touch and go there for a while, but she seems to be in better health than she was before, so there’s that.” I nod, blinking away unshed tears. Why am I crying for a woman I don’t even know?
“Here’s your drinks,” Harley says setting them down. “Have you decided what you want to eat yet?”
“Oh, um. You order,” I tell him.
“You sure?” he asks quirking an eyebrow at me. I just nod. “Alright, we will do a large pepperoni and mushroom pie with extra cheese,” he says, and I giggle. “What?” he asks.
“That is what I always order.”
“Great minds think alike.”
“I’ll put this in now and bring out as soon as it’s ready,” Harley says looking back and forth between us. My phone rings and I look over at him sheepishly.
“Take it,” he says grinning.
“It’s just my sister,” I say for some reason. We have a quick conversation about not being able to hang out and I tell her I’ll make it up to her another night. She laughs and says she wants all the details later. I giggle and tell her to fuck off. I catch a glimpse of the picture Harley sent me and I don’t hate it. I thought for sure I would. The wet bathing suit and hair look kinda looks great on me.
“Sorry about that,” I say turning back to him.”
“No worries,” he says taking my hand again. I have to take a sip of my beer because my throat is suddenly dry.
“So, tell me more about you,” I say after wiping my mouth.
I could listen to the timbre of his voice all damn day.
2
Emmerich Tresoro
This bachelor party was a mistake from the word go. My cousin, Yuri is dumbass. Who asks a woman to marry them and then fucks a stripper and a random less than twenty minutes from home? I don’t condone it at any distance from home, but could he be any stupider? I am enraged. Tarah is a nice girl and doesn’t deserve the shitstorm Yuri will rain down on her. My younger brother, Friedrich, feels the same way I do. We needed air. He went his own way about ten minutes ago and I went straight for the boardwalk. I wasn't there five minutes when I saw her from the bench I was sitting on.
At first sight of her, I almost choked on my tongue. She came up out of the water like a fucking mermaid on legs. Long, tan, legs that should be wrapped around my waist. Her curvy body called out to me on a primal level. My eyes trailed down her body. I growled as I realized if I was clearly able to see her suckable nipples then every other swinging dick on the beach could as well. Fuck that shit. That alone spurred me into action. Before I knew it, I was already in motion. Off that boardwalk and striding toward her with purpose. Then I was standing over her. She pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head and looked up at me. Her vivid green eyes shocked me to the core. She looked so fucking familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.
Now, as I
sit across from her, I knew who she was the second the waitress said she was on TV. The last season of Dance Stars is my obsession, not that I’d ever tell a soul about that shit. It’s a secret obsession. Her hair is shorter now, but I should have recognized her and her name. With the amount of time I've spent jerking my cock to the mental image of her dancing for me, there’s no excuse. I should have known her. Stifling a groan, I shift my legs under the table to try to manage the hard on she is causing. Sure, I grumbled about it when my mom wanted to watch it, but as soon as she came out on that stage I was hooked. I hated that she danced in that fucking professional dancers’ arms. Intimate dances. Dances that made my mind race. Dances that should have been just for me. I was, and still am fucking insane for her. Her outfits on the show were over the top and fit her like a second skin. While I loved them on her, I hated that others were seeing her in it. I had no idea I had a jealous streak, let alone be capable of jealousy over a woman I had never met. Now that I have, I know it’s a feeling that will never go away.
“I am the vice-president of my family business and I like to play golf. I also collect vintage sports cars.”
"That sounds interesting," she says.
"Oh yeah? Which part?"
"All of it. I have follow up questions. What is your favorite car and what kind of business?"
"My 1969 Corvette. As for the family business, we make ice cream," I say causing her eyes to widen.