Cookies. They‘re sweet and crumbly. In my bakery, they’re a melt-in-your-mouth delicacy. People drive miles out of their way for a box of fudgey choc chip. Any cookie you can think of, we make it. We don’t serve sandwiches. For some reason, the tall and muscular stranger from out of town can’t get that through his head. I tell him the best I can do is a cookie sandwich. Then he grind and tells me he’d like to eat my cookie. Did I hear that right? I did. He wants me. The curvy cookie maker. I don’t even know his name... Warning: this quick read contains over-the-top declarations, insta-love and molten hot moments between a curvy girl and the newest bad boy in town who might be staying longer than he bargained for.