Her Cucumber Lover © 2021 Gwyn McNamee & Christy Anderson
Her Squishy Shifters © 2021 Mia Harlan
Her Boiling Angels © 2021 TB Mann
Her Apple Pie CEO © 2021 Linzi Basset
Her Carrot Harem © 2021 Jade Waltz
Her Steamy Alphas © 2021 Lacey Carter Andersen
Her Banana Bears © 2021 by Skye MacKinnon
Her Sugar Cyborg © 2021 Kate Rudolph
Her Cherry Picker © 2021 K. R. Max
His Cabbage Tosser © 2021 Rachel A. Smith
His Bulging Baguette © 2021 Jessalyn Jameson
Her Celery Stalker © 2021 Liza Street
Her Juicy Lady © 2021 Arizona Tape
Her Pointy Alien © 2021 Margo Bond Collins
Her Salad Twins © 2021 Edeline Wrigh
Feeding Them Won’t Make Them Grow © 2021 Lia Davis & L.A. Boruff
Her Oily Wolf © 2021 Lorri Moulton & Anna-Violetta Carsini
Her Tomato Mate © 2021 Laura Greenwood
My Pumpkin Grocer © 2021 M.C. Cerny
Her Melon Masters © 2021 Erin Bedford
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Foreword
Her Cucumber Lover
Gwyn McNamee & Christy Anderson
Her Squishy Shifters
Mia Harlan
Her Boiling Angels
TB Mann
Her Apple Pie CEO
Linzi Basset
Her Carrot Harem
Jade Waltz
Her Steamy Alphas
Lacey Carter Andersen
Her Banana Bears
Skye MacKinnon
Her Sugar Cyborg
Kate Rudolph
Her Cherry Picker
K. R. Max
His Cabbage Tosser
Rachel A. Smith
His Bulging Baguette
Jessalyn Jameson
Her Celery Stalker
Liza Street
Her Juicy Lady
Arizona Tape
Her Pointy Alien
Margo Bond Collins
Her Salad Twins
Edeline Wrigh
Feeding Them Won’t Make Them Grow
Lia Davis & L.A. Boruff
Her Oily Wolf
Lorri Moulton & Anna-Violetta Carsini
Her Tomato Mate
Laura Greenwood
My Pumpkin Grocer
M.C. Cerny
Her Melon Masters
Erin Bedford
The Hunger Project
Foreword
Dear readers,
Welcome to an anthology full of romantic, funny and healthy romance stories about food. From donut shifters to sexy French chefs, from billionaires to gluten-intolerant cyborgs…we’ve assembled a salad bowl full of mouthwatering romances. They’re rated by heat level on a scale from 1 (chaste kiss) to 5 (all out explicit action).
This project started completely by accident. One of us found some (very) strange stock photos involving a half-naked woman and a bunch of tomatoes. That led to making some random book covers for friends and suddenly we had an anthology with over twenty authors involved.
All proceeds of this book will go to The Hunger Project, a charity committed to the sustainable end of world hunger. We thought this would be the perfect charity to support with our food-related stories.
Now ready your knife and fork, grab some snacks and enjoy this delicious anthology!
The Eat Your Heart Out Authors
Her Cucumber Lover
Gwyn McNamee & Christy Anderson
Heat level: 5
Cass A. Nova is a massive dick.
Always has been.
(He also has one, but that’s neither here nor there).
My older brother’s best friend loved to taunt me and call me Virgin Mary growing up.
He also embarrassed me in the worst way when he found out I was crushing on him.
Now that I’m back in Smalltownsville, I hope I never have to see that smug man again.
Fate seems to have other plans.
All because of the ginormous cucumber in his hand.
With all the bumps and ridges, it’s exactly what I need to fulfill my needs.
Too bad Cass isn’t willing to give it up.
But neither am I.
We both want what that girthy would-be-gherkin can offer.
So maybe it’s time to come together to do some pickling of our own.
Enjoy this hot and dirty enemies-to-cucumber-lovers romantic comedy filled with vegetable shenanigans from Gwyn McNamee and Christy Anderson.
Chapter 1
Mary
If there's one thing I can count on now that I'm back in Smalltownsville, Illinois, it's running into someone I don't want to see.
Case in point—Cass Alexander Nova.
Who names their kid Cass A. Nova, anyway?
Assholes, that's who.
His parents were clearly assholes—at least on the day they named him—and the way he treated me growing up didn't speak very well for their parenting skills, either.
Bobby's best friend was ruthless, smug, condescending, and so, so, so hot. It was like watching a scene from Baywatch every time he came over to use our pool with big bro. His sandy-blond hair would darken when wet, and he'd climb up the ladder, water trickling over his picture-perfect, golden abs to disappear down over that V thing that led to…
Well, I never saw it.
At least, not unencumbered by some sort of restrictive clothing. Like those tight white baseball uniforms…or those damn gray sweatpants Cass always wore that clung to him and left nothing to my sixteen-year-old imagination except what I fantasized about every night while I flicked my bean. Or those jeans that hugged his ass perfectly and showed off just how perfect he was in every way.
The man was a god in high school, lofty and worshiped by women and men…and four years older than me. Staring him down now, even a decade later, after we've both grown and matured, I can see not much has changed.
Still hot as hell…and still an asshole.
Just look at him…schmoozing and flirting with that soccer mom in her tight yoga pants and tank-top that exposes her probably fake, too-round breasts. He doesn't even care that she's bouncing a toddler on her hip. That same sexy smile. The panty-melting laugh. He throws them at her like an archer zeroing in on his target.
Gag!
Even the little one seems entranced by him, too. Bright-blue eyes staring at him with fascination. Giggling and playfully high-fiving with the man who crushed my soul.
Oh, my God! Is that kid giving him a piece of candy?
I squint against the bright late-morning sunlight to try to get a better look. The little girl reaches out and pushes a piece of chocolate into the mouth Cass has used to seduce probably hundreds of women over the years.
Jesus! The guy is LITERALLY taking candy from a baby!
He's apparently reached even lower lows since I've been gone. Not shocking considering how he acted back then. Silly me for even considering someone might change in a decade.
God knows I have. Ten
years away from this place did me good. I got to explore the world…or at least a few parts of it. I got to experience things this tiny speck on the map never could have offered. I grew in ways that would have been stunted had I stayed.
But apparently, all Cass did after he graduated from college was come back here and fall right back into old habits—seducing women and breaking hearts.
And now he's added stealing candy from babies to his asshole resume.
I turn away from him before my blood literally boils out of my ears and make my way down the line of produce stands. Shopping at the Saturday morning farmers' market makes my return home finally feel real. Even though it's been a week since I set foot back in the city limits, spending all my time at home or at the restaurant means I haven't had a chance to explore and get back to all the things I once loved to do growing up here. And the market in early spring has always been one of my favorites.
The colors.
The smells.
The friendly smiles of people who have finally dug themselves out from under the months and months of snow and bitter cold to sell their produce and wares in the crisp morning air.
It couldn't have come at a better time, either. There are only a few hours left to get what I need before tonight's bachelorette party, and Becky is one of the worst bridezillas I've ever worked with, so everything must be picture-perfect, especially the canapés—which must include ricotta with cucumber. Smoked salmon and olive tapenade canapés aren't sufficient. "We need more!" Because, apparently, Becky had them at a friend's party in Chicago last summer and insists they're "the classiest things she's ever seen."
Gag again.
Not that I have anything against ricotta and cucumber canapés. In fact, they're quite delicious, but it took everything in me not to roll my eyes when she said that. There was no point in arguing with her or making other suggestions based on the many creative things Bobby and I can make at the restaurant. The woman knows what she wants and won't be swayed.
So…I didn't bother. Just pasted on my practiced, sweet smile and agreed while biting my tongue so hard that I tasted a tinge of coppery blood in my mouth.
But it had to be done. This party is too important to blow it over a damn canapé—the first one I'll be catering for Sweet Home Kitchen since I came back to help Bobby run the family business. Which is, thankfully, thriving despite this town seemingly being stuck in the 1970s forever. He can't handle it all himself anymore, and somehow, I let him talk me into coming back home to help run the catering side.
It felt like a good move at the time, a break from the hustle and bustle of Chicago, a return to a more laid-back and casual life after constantly being on the go and feeling claustrophobic in a city with almost three million people in it.
But after seeing Cass, I'm reminded why I wanted to leave in the first place. Well, at least one of the reasons. Small towns offer no hope for avoiding people from your former life, people who have hurt you and twisted you apart so badly that you never wanted to come home until now.
Hopefully, I can keep our run-ins to a minimum, though. With as busy as I anticipate being, it's not like I'll have any time to socialize, and even if I did, he'd be the last person I would choose to spend it with.
I'd much rather enjoy the fresh air and slight breeze—the sights and scents of spring. I grab a beefsteak tomato and bring it to my nose to inhale deeply.
Perfection.
These early spring tomatoes can sometimes be watery and tasteless, but the sweet, fruity scent of this one ensures it will be delicious. I throw a few more into my basket and scan Mrs. Beasley's stall for the other things I need. Growing up, she always had the best garden in town, and I'm hoping that's still true.
Dammit. No cucumbers.
Hopefully, one of the other stalls has them since I already struck out at the small grocery store that serves the town. I pay Mrs. Beasley with a smile and wander farther down the line and to the largest stall, operated by Old Jerry Bloom—one with multiple tables covered with dozens of early-spring vegetables.
Red and yellow tomatoes, squash, cabbage, and eggplant…
He must have been growing in a greenhouse all winter to have such large and beautiful items available already. But I can't seem to find the one thing I desperately need…until my eyes land on something green.
Aha! A cucumber!
And just my luck…it's a massive one! Long. Girthy. Bumpy and ridged. It's everything I could ever want in a cucumber. My mouth practically waters just looking at it. It will be perfect for canapés and will hopefully appease Bridezilla.
I reach out and wrap my hand around it, but it's so huge, my fingers don't even touch. Shifting forward, I try to get a better grip, but another hand closes around the other end of it and tugs.
What the hell?
Whoever has the other end of this cucumber better release it.
My gaze drifts up, and I come face to face with my worst fear.
Cass…of fucking course.
His blue eyes twinkle with amusement and that special thing he always had, and the corner of his perfectly pink lips curls up into that sexy half-grin that's always melted panties. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Virgin Mary Sweet. Bobby mentioned you were back in town to run the catering side of the restaurant."
I scowl at him and secure my grip on my green prize while I try to find my composure. This man will not see me flustered. I will not give him the upper hand. EVER. "What about you, Cass? Still roaming the halls of the high school, seeing how many girls you can get to flash you their boobs?"
He snorts and shakes his head, leaning toward me slightly with a knowing smirk. "You're just mad I never asked you to."
Goddammit. He's not wrong.
I did hate that he never asked me to, that he only looked at me as Bobby's little sister. That the four-year age difference between us meant I was always a kid to him. And the memory of the day he shattered all my hopes and dreams and decimated my soul comes flooding back like it was only yesterday instead of a decade ago.
It was my fault, really. I never should've told Karen that I had a crush on him. That filthy bitch never could keep her mouth shut about anything. And how he reacted is forever etched into my brain like a brand. The smirk he cast at me when she told him I was infatuated. The smug way his eyes scanned me from head to foot before he laughed and said, "You wouldn't know what to do with me, Virgin Mary," and then walked away, crushing my heart under his black boots on his way. It left a permanent scar that burns now staring into the eyes I could swim and drown in.
Well, I won't Cass A. Nova, and his beautiful baby blues drag me down to the depths again. I tighten my hand around the cucumber and jerk it toward me. I won't dignify his comment with a response. "Are you going to let go of that?"
He glances down at the cucumber and raises his sandy blond eyebrows. "Why would I let go of it? I was here first. And for the record, the only time I spend at the high school anymore is to help coach the baseball team."
I tug on my prize again, but his grip remains firm. "Bullshit. It's mine."
He jerks back just as hard, but if there's one thing "Virgin Mary" has learned over the last ten years, it's how to have a firm grip.
I growl low at him. "I'm sure there are other cucumbers. Give me this one."
And then leave me alone and stay the hell out of my life FOREVER!
"Actually, guys, that's the last one."
"What?" We both turn our heads toward Old Jerry, the unfortunate purveyor of the stand and witness to our little tiff.
Cass twists his lips into a scowl. "What do you mean there aren't any more?"
Jerry shrugs. "It's early spring. This is the first batch to mature. Pretty sure even the grocery store doesn't have any right now."
You have got to be fucking kidding me.
I turn back to Cass and steel myself to throw-down. "You will take this cucumber over my dead body."
Chapter 2
Cass
I'd like to do a lot
of things with this cucumber and her body, but it wouldn't be much fun if she were dead. It would actually be a bit creepy, too. Okay, a lot creepy. But Mary Sweet's warm, willing body pressed against mine is quickly becoming my biggest fantasy the longer we argue.
Damn, did the last decade do her good.
Mary as a teenager—and my best friend's younger sister—with her caramel waves and striking amber eyes was cute, but Mary as a full-grown woman, filled with piss and vinegar and a fiery temper that heats and pinkens her pale cheeks…now this isn't cute. It's absolutely smoldering hot.
The longer we have this standoff with the cucumber, the harder my cucumber grows, straining against the hard zipper of my jeans. Mary clearly thinks she will win this war, but she has no idea how determined I can be when I see something I want.
She twists those beautiful bow lips up and huffs. "What do you need the cucumber so bad for, anyway?"
"That's a complicated question, Mary. My plans for it might be changing…but originally, I needed it for my cucumber mojitos at the bar. It's my most popular drink."
One of her dark eyebrows wings up. "Are you a bartender?"
I chuckle and smirk, inclining my head backward. "I own a bar just down the street, where the mercantile used to be."
She purses her lips together, apparently annoyed I actually own a business when she no-doubt thought I'd be some deadbeat loser. "I see. Well, you'll just have to find another type of mojito for tonight because I need this."
"What do you need this for so badly?" I lean forward until my lips almost brush her ear. A sweet, flowery scent envelops me and stirs my already-hard cock, and I bite back a groan. "Do you have something private planned for it this evening?"
Eat Your Heart Out: A Romance Charity Anthology Page 1