Mackenzie
Crowne
Breast cancer survivor & romance author
You’re a sweetie for sharing
your home on the web with me, Terri. Thanks so much. Hello everyone. I’m stoked
to be here to celebrate the release of my latest contemporary romance and…I
brought along a friend. The Billionaire’s Con is her story, you see. Her name
is Meggy Calhoun and she’s the smart-mouthed head chef of Palmer House, a hot
new fine dining establishment just north of Boston. She pestered me for more
than a year to tell her tale, just as she pestered me to let her come along
today to meet Terri’s visitors and share a bit about her story. So, without
further ado, it’s all yours, Meggy.
Thanks Terri and Mac. Wow!
This is so exciting! Hi guys. Please don’t blame Mac for caving. It’s not her
fault. After all, they don’t call me the Palmerton Pit Bull because I’m a
pushover, which has come in handy since the day Trevor Bryce Christos showed up
on my doorstep.
Lord, the man is glorious. A
Greek god with the attitude to match. I was a goner with one look. Okay, he’s
not really a god, but he sure has the arrogance of one, like the way he came to
Palmerton, pretending he was a writer doing research for a book. Like me, the
warm hearted people of Palmerton welcomed Trevor with open arms, fooled by his
dimpled smiles and charm. Hah! In truth, he came to town to prove I was a con
artist, bent on conning an old lady out of her fortune. A con artist of all
things!
Oh, the sneaky Greek was
wrong, of course. I’m no con artist. I’m a chef! Which is all I’ve ever wanted
to be, with a dream of running my own kitchen. And I was finally about to
achieve that dream with the opening of Palmer House. Unfortunately, my troubles
began with an unexpected letter from my birth mother. Did I mention I’m
adopted? I never should have read that letter. I soon discovered the lengths to
which one of the wealthiest families on the eastern seaboard would go to
protect their empire.
Hmmm. I’d love to share more,
but Mac warned me about giving away too much of my story and is giving me the
eye. So, I’ll just say this. Sneaky Greeks aren’t the only ones who know how to
play the game to get what they want. ;-)
And to thank you all for
visiting with us today, Mac is giving away a PDF copy of The Billionaire’s Con
to one lucky commenter. I brought along an excerpt, and the recipe for
my Scrumptious Brownie Cheesecake. It’s the most requested dessert at Palmer
House, courtesy of Mac’s favorite pastry chef and real life brother. Enjoy!
Scrumptious Brownie
Cheesecake:
Follow instructions for Betty
Crocker Brownies.
Mix ingredients and add to a
parchment lined spring mold pan coated with cooking spray. Bake at 350 degrees
for 20 min.
While that's baking, mix 1
pound of softened Philly cream cheese, half cup of sugar, teaspoon vanilla, 2
eggs, until smooth.
Remove brownies from oven, pour
cream cheese batter over them and swirl in with a butter knife.
Bake for additional 30 to 40
min at same temp or until set.
Excerpt:
“What are you doing in here, Meggy?”
Jill moved to stand beside the stepladder. “And why are you painting?”
Meggy frowned at the intruders,
ignoring Jill for the moment. Her gaze scanned the tall stranger. She noted his
expensive suit and handsome face below a thick pelt of dark, auburn hair.
Though very attractive, he had that stiff, life-is-serious-business look about him.
Lawyer.
She sighed at the waste and turned
her frown to Jill.
“I needed something to keep my
hands occupied until I can get back into the kitchen.”
Agitated as much with the delay as
the mess, she flicked her hand holding the roller. A silken thread of paint
danced through the air, leaving a drizzle of pale yellow across the faded denim
of her favorite jeans.
Perfect. Just perfect.
“Get back into the kitchen?” Jill
placed her hands on her hips. “I thought the kitchen was up and running.”
Meggy hoisted her butt off the top of
the ladder and slapped a hand to the wall when she lost her balance. From the
corner of her eye, she saw the lawyer take a startled step forward. With a
disgusted growl, she glared at the fresh slash of paint coating her hand, and
clambered down the ladder backwards before he could reach her.
“We had a leak.” She jumped
the last two steps to land on the floor, jamming the roller into the pan at the
foot of the ladder. “The plumber is there now, dealing with the aftermath.”
Reminded of the calamity in her kitchen, she turned a glower on the silent man
and quirked a brow. “And you are?”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Jill rolled her eyes
at Meggy and made the introductions. “Meggy Calhoun, this is Trevor Bryce. He’s
a writer who’s interested in renting the Carriage House. Mr. Bryce, Meggy is
one of the owners of Palmer House. She’s also the head chef.”
Meggy watched, fascinated, as the
stiff lawyer vanished behind a wicked smile, a flash of white teeth, and
dimples. There was nothing stiff about the penetrating gaze that met and
held hers. The deep drawl of his voice, when he said hello, reminded her of the
smooth slide of the aged whiskey found in Palmer House’s well-stocked bar.
She glanced at the hand he held out,
and flipped up her own paint-smeared palm. “Sorry, I’m a mess.”
Laugh lines crinkled the tanned skin
at the corner of his eyes, and the soft core of femininity within her sighed in
appreciation. She’d always had a soft spot for the Greek god type. Looking at
Trevor Bryce, she had a sudden craving for Feta cheese and Ouzo.
I love making new friends, so please
feel free to visit my home on the web and learn more about me and my other
titles @ mackenziecrowne.com
Mac
