My rating: 5 of 5 stars
Back Cover:
Candace Woodrow knows it's a recipe for disaster. She has no business even looking at another man--no matter how sinfully sexy he is--much less waking up in Michael Vogler's bed three weeks before she marries Mr. Right. She's determined the wedding will go off without a hitch--as long as she can keep her meddling grandmother, her flighty mother, and her well-meaning friends from interfering with her plans--and pointing out her doubts every time she turns around. And it won't be easy--since Michael's just become Candace's biggest client, with an order for thousands of the Gift Baskets to Die For she creates with her friends. Worse, he wants to work closely with Candace...every step of the way. It's enough to drive a girl to intravenous chocolate consumption, 24/7. And the way Candace's heart flip-flops whenever Michael is around is an industrial-sized clue that keeping a tight rein on her future and her heart might not be such a good idea. But risking it all for a man she barely knows is even crazier, right?
My Review:
'Bride wore Chocolate'is an absolutely delightful ‘Rom Com' you do not want to miss out on.
Take one cautious bride in Candace Woodrow + one boring fiancé add a dollop of delicious temptation in Michael Volgler and you got yourself an absolute treat on your hands.
The writing was fantastic and the secondary characters were a smile a minute from Candace’s Quirky Grandma to her interfering Mother-in-law to be.
This book is full of humor, witty dialogues, chocolate and delicious recipes with very entertaining baking instructions.
I also happened to find an useful recipe that I absolutely have to share..
Maria's Favorite Hangover Remedy
1 banana, chopped
1/2 container chocolate syrup
3 ounces milk
3 ounces rum
2 Tylenol, crushed
Dim the lights and for God's sake, don't open the blinds.
Muffle the blender motor with a towel, then blend all ingredients until as frothy as a virgin's prom gown.
Don't bother with a glass; drink straight from the damned pitcher.
Repeat as necessary.
Then get to a mall and a Krispy Kreme store for further remedial help‘Bride wore Chocolate’ is sure to satisfy your cravings for Chocolate and romance....just about every woman’s fantasy or close to it ;-)
Highly Recommended!
A Glimpse into the book:
The gnomes inside Candace's head were having a fiesta worthy of Cinco de Mayo, complete with the flashing red jalapeno lights and a band of hammers pounding out the rhythm to "Celebration" in double-time. The sound waved and rolled with her stomach, increasing in volume every time she moved a fraction of an inch in the bed.
A snippet of advice from Grandma Woodrow floated through her mind. Candace latched onto it with every bit of consciousness she could muster. Put one foot on the floor and you'll get off the hangover Tilt-A-Whirl.
Candace wasn't sure she could feel her foot, never mind move it.
She pressed her palms against her throbbing temples. Willing the headache away didn't work. Shutting her eyes tighter only made the pounding intensify. She moaned and rolled over, clutching the pillow beside her.
The sheet came loose when she moved and cool air tickled against her skin. Down her spine. Along her belly. Past her legs.
Not against pajamas of any kind.
Candace froze and did a mental inventory. Exquisitely soft bed linens. No gurgle of the fish tank she had in her bedroom. No Trifecta snoring at the end of the bed. No traffic sounds outside the window.
Without opening her eyes, she ran a tentative hand down her body. She felt a bra. Panties.
Nothing else.
She bolted from the bed, tripping over some shoes and landing in a heap on the floor. Scrambling to a sitting position, she glanced wildly around the room. A room she didn't recognize. Her heart thudded in her throat, threatening to suffocate her.
The gnomes kept up their steady hammering. Maybe they were building a condominium in there. Candace closed her eyes again, but that only intensified her vertigo. She hoped, no prayed, that she was at a friend's apartment. Yes, that was it. She was at Maria's. Who had...
Candace scrambled for an explanation...
...gone on a major redecorating spree in the last twelve hours.
Yeah. That works. Doesn't it?
A pair of Levi 505s lay in a crumpled heap beside her. Jeans she'd never seen before. Jeans that definitely didn't belong to her. Or a woman, for that matter.
Okay. Take a breath. Try to remember.
Maria. Rebecca. The can't-find-a-dress pity party at the restaurant. A few drinks. Okay, a lot of drinks. And a man.
Oh God, a man. She was pretty damned sure his name wasn't Barry, either.
Candace bit her lip to keep from screaming. Nothing else existed in her memory-no name, no conclusion to the night and especially no memory of how she'd ended up in someone else's bed wearing nothing more than her underwear.
She clung to the sheet, the one sane thing she had in Wonderland. She cradled her head with her other hand, praying for the throbbing to stop so the fog could clear. "Oh Lord, why can't I remember?"
"Because you had too much to drink," a deep voice called from nearby.
Unless Maria had gotten a sex-change operation last night, that was definitely not her best friend's voice.
Candace ducked down beside the bed like a SEAL commando and peered over the edge for a glimpse of who had spoken.
The blinds were still drawn, but a tiny sliver of sunlight peeked through the slits. Most of the bedroom remained in shadow. Beside the massive four-poster sat a polished mahogany nightstand holding an empty bottle of German beer and a half-dozen books. Plenty of expensive furniture, but no body to match the voice.
She'd imagined this. A total tequila hallucination.
Behind her, a door creaked open. Candace spun around. Light spilled into the room from a bathroom ten feet away.
A man stood in front of a pedestal sink, shaving.
That was so not Maria.
Candace patted the hardwood floor. No luck. No magic rabbit hole to swallow her up so she wouldn't have to deal with this man and anything that might have happened between them last night.
Oh God anything that might have happened?
An ocean of nausea rolled through her stomach, threatening to deposit whatever was left in her stomach on the Oriental rug.
Who was he? And why was she in his bedroom, doing a private Victoria's Secret runway event? The obvious answer was too horrifying for Candace to consider.
He was definitely not the man she had promised to marry in twenty-one days. No, if today was Sunday, twenty days.
Her mouth went dry as she considered the possibilities of who he might be. Serial rapist. Psychotic killer. Deranged kidnapper. Right-wing Republican.
Using the bed as a crutch, she pulled herself to a standing position, ignoring the sudden blast of pain in her head and fighting with the sheet that had tangled around her feet. With a solid yank, she tugged it out from under her and promptly lost her balance. She tumbled to the floor again, losing her grip on the cloth.
She staggered to her feet and prayed the light-colored sheet covered her. It didn't. A quick glance down confirmed the outline of black lace and a Wonder Bra.
She didn't even want to think about how-or with whose hands-she had gotten undressed.
Her navy sundress was only a few feet away, draped over the arm of a wingback chair. Candace bent to grab it. But she didn't move fast enough.
"Nice view," said a voice from behind her.
She spun around, at the same time wrapping the sheet tighter.
He held nearly a foot's height advantage over her. His hair, still wet from the shower, was slicked back in a dark wave. Deep blue eyes that appeared almost black in the half-light of the room studied her with clear amusement.
Her gaze traveled down, past his bare muscular chest, following the V of dark hairs to the waistband of a pair of checkered silk boxer shorts. The satiny material stopped mid-thigh along his lean, defined and-okay, she had to admit it-inordinately interesting legs. She jerked her attention back to his face.
He's gorgeous.
He grinned.
And he knows it.
In her experience, which admittedly could fit on the head of a pin and still have room left over, men with that self-satisfied grin used their looks like shark hunters used chum. Bait, hook, use up the good parts, then toss the useless carcass to the seagulls.
"I take it you don't remember anything that happened last night?" He wiped his chin with a hand towel, then sent it sailing into a corner hamper.
She shook her head, wishing she were anywhere but here, standing in front of a short-haired Adrian Paul doppelganger wearing little more than 200 count cotton.
He took a step closer, fingering the tip of the sheet. Even his eyes were rich, flecked with tiny bits of gold among the sapphire. He grinned again, either as a tease or a suggestion, Candace didn't know. Didn't want to know. "You had a wonderful time, I can assure you."
The room swayed. Her stomach lurched. Candace smacked his hand away. "That's a matter of opinion."
"Perhaps." He sat on the bed and began to pull on the jeans. "In my opinion, we enjoyed ourselves fully."
She ignored the implications, hoping that's all they were. "But...where...I mean, how..."
"How did you get here?" he finished for her.
She nodded, her cheeks warming.
"In my car, of course."
"And who are you?"
He grinned. "Think of me as your knight in shining armor."
Candace let out a few curses even Grandma had never heard. "I mean, what is your name?"
"Last night, you were content to call me Romeo." A smirk played at his lips, displaying a crescent indent on the right side of his smile. He had a dimple. That caused a whole 'nother kind of lurch in her stomach. "I kind of liked it."
"I'm not kidding. Who are you?"
He rubbed his chin, ignoring her question. "Of course, you also called me Loverboy. Oh, and-"
Candace held up her hand. "Stop! Just stop. I get the idea. Forget I even asked."
A snippet of advice from Grandma Woodrow floated through her mind. Candace latched onto it with every bit of consciousness she could muster. Put one foot on the floor and you'll get off the hangover Tilt-A-Whirl.
Candace wasn't sure she could feel her foot, never mind move it.
She pressed her palms against her throbbing temples. Willing the headache away didn't work. Shutting her eyes tighter only made the pounding intensify. She moaned and rolled over, clutching the pillow beside her.
The sheet came loose when she moved and cool air tickled against her skin. Down her spine. Along her belly. Past her legs.
Not against pajamas of any kind.
Candace froze and did a mental inventory. Exquisitely soft bed linens. No gurgle of the fish tank she had in her bedroom. No Trifecta snoring at the end of the bed. No traffic sounds outside the window.
Without opening her eyes, she ran a tentative hand down her body. She felt a bra. Panties.
Nothing else.
She bolted from the bed, tripping over some shoes and landing in a heap on the floor. Scrambling to a sitting position, she glanced wildly around the room. A room she didn't recognize. Her heart thudded in her throat, threatening to suffocate her.
The gnomes kept up their steady hammering. Maybe they were building a condominium in there. Candace closed her eyes again, but that only intensified her vertigo. She hoped, no prayed, that she was at a friend's apartment. Yes, that was it. She was at Maria's. Who had...
Candace scrambled for an explanation...
...gone on a major redecorating spree in the last twelve hours.
Yeah. That works. Doesn't it?
A pair of Levi 505s lay in a crumpled heap beside her. Jeans she'd never seen before. Jeans that definitely didn't belong to her. Or a woman, for that matter.
Okay. Take a breath. Try to remember.
Maria. Rebecca. The can't-find-a-dress pity party at the restaurant. A few drinks. Okay, a lot of drinks. And a man.
Oh God, a man. She was pretty damned sure his name wasn't Barry, either.
Candace bit her lip to keep from screaming. Nothing else existed in her memory-no name, no conclusion to the night and especially no memory of how she'd ended up in someone else's bed wearing nothing more than her underwear.
She clung to the sheet, the one sane thing she had in Wonderland. She cradled her head with her other hand, praying for the throbbing to stop so the fog could clear. "Oh Lord, why can't I remember?"
"Because you had too much to drink," a deep voice called from nearby.
Unless Maria had gotten a sex-change operation last night, that was definitely not her best friend's voice.
Candace ducked down beside the bed like a SEAL commando and peered over the edge for a glimpse of who had spoken.
The blinds were still drawn, but a tiny sliver of sunlight peeked through the slits. Most of the bedroom remained in shadow. Beside the massive four-poster sat a polished mahogany nightstand holding an empty bottle of German beer and a half-dozen books. Plenty of expensive furniture, but no body to match the voice.
She'd imagined this. A total tequila hallucination.
Behind her, a door creaked open. Candace spun around. Light spilled into the room from a bathroom ten feet away.
A man stood in front of a pedestal sink, shaving.
That was so not Maria.
Candace patted the hardwood floor. No luck. No magic rabbit hole to swallow her up so she wouldn't have to deal with this man and anything that might have happened between them last night.
Oh God anything that might have happened?
An ocean of nausea rolled through her stomach, threatening to deposit whatever was left in her stomach on the Oriental rug.
Who was he? And why was she in his bedroom, doing a private Victoria's Secret runway event? The obvious answer was too horrifying for Candace to consider.
He was definitely not the man she had promised to marry in twenty-one days. No, if today was Sunday, twenty days.
Her mouth went dry as she considered the possibilities of who he might be. Serial rapist. Psychotic killer. Deranged kidnapper. Right-wing Republican.
Using the bed as a crutch, she pulled herself to a standing position, ignoring the sudden blast of pain in her head and fighting with the sheet that had tangled around her feet. With a solid yank, she tugged it out from under her and promptly lost her balance. She tumbled to the floor again, losing her grip on the cloth.
She staggered to her feet and prayed the light-colored sheet covered her. It didn't. A quick glance down confirmed the outline of black lace and a Wonder Bra.
She didn't even want to think about how-or with whose hands-she had gotten undressed.
Her navy sundress was only a few feet away, draped over the arm of a wingback chair. Candace bent to grab it. But she didn't move fast enough.
"Nice view," said a voice from behind her.
She spun around, at the same time wrapping the sheet tighter.
He held nearly a foot's height advantage over her. His hair, still wet from the shower, was slicked back in a dark wave. Deep blue eyes that appeared almost black in the half-light of the room studied her with clear amusement.
Her gaze traveled down, past his bare muscular chest, following the V of dark hairs to the waistband of a pair of checkered silk boxer shorts. The satiny material stopped mid-thigh along his lean, defined and-okay, she had to admit it-inordinately interesting legs. She jerked her attention back to his face.
He's gorgeous.
He grinned.
And he knows it.
In her experience, which admittedly could fit on the head of a pin and still have room left over, men with that self-satisfied grin used their looks like shark hunters used chum. Bait, hook, use up the good parts, then toss the useless carcass to the seagulls.
"I take it you don't remember anything that happened last night?" He wiped his chin with a hand towel, then sent it sailing into a corner hamper.
She shook her head, wishing she were anywhere but here, standing in front of a short-haired Adrian Paul doppelganger wearing little more than 200 count cotton.
He took a step closer, fingering the tip of the sheet. Even his eyes were rich, flecked with tiny bits of gold among the sapphire. He grinned again, either as a tease or a suggestion, Candace didn't know. Didn't want to know. "You had a wonderful time, I can assure you."
The room swayed. Her stomach lurched. Candace smacked his hand away. "That's a matter of opinion."
"Perhaps." He sat on the bed and began to pull on the jeans. "In my opinion, we enjoyed ourselves fully."
She ignored the implications, hoping that's all they were. "But...where...I mean, how..."
"How did you get here?" he finished for her.
She nodded, her cheeks warming.
"In my car, of course."
"And who are you?"
He grinned. "Think of me as your knight in shining armor."
Candace let out a few curses even Grandma had never heard. "I mean, what is your name?"
"Last night, you were content to call me Romeo." A smirk played at his lips, displaying a crescent indent on the right side of his smile. He had a dimple. That caused a whole 'nother kind of lurch in her stomach. "I kind of liked it."
"I'm not kidding. Who are you?"
He rubbed his chin, ignoring her question. "Of course, you also called me Loverboy. Oh, and-"
Candace held up her hand. "Stop! Just stop. I get the idea. Forget I even asked."
Hi Sara,
ReplyDeleteI soooo want to read this book!!!
I love the title of this book. After reading your review, it is definitely going on my TBR list!
ReplyDelete