-Don't say anything stupid.

-Don't set the house...or yourself... on fire.

And don't fall in love with your boss's son.

It might be too late for all three

Sawyer Dumont is made of sarcasm and steel. Successful, rich and easy on the eyes, it's not his fault women don't stay around long. They should really try to be more interesting. Despite his career as a cardiovascular surgeon, Sawyer knows very little about matters of the heart. So what if his longest lasting relationship is with his father and his quirky aunt who stepped up to raise him? If he could just find them a personal chef to help them through their golden years, then life would be perfect.

Slinging drinks and lighting shots on fire is a far cry from the dream Dakota Brightling had when she moved to California to attend culinary school. At work she watches others live her dream just twelve feet away in the resort restaurant. Story of her life: Close but not close enough. Finding an ad for an in-home chef, she knows she's the perfect candidate. She's only missing one thing, a culinary degree. But isn't chasing your dream worth a little lie or two? It isn't exactly the path she wanted, but Dakota knows that some of the best recipes are often improvised.

Instantly taken with Henri Dumont, and his sister, Eloise, two eccentric French seniors, Dakota feels like she's found where she was meant to be all along. With Sawyer's cynicism undermining her every move, she knows she has a lot to prove. Between her lack of schooling, her overbearing mother who thinks she's been abducted, and Sawyer breathing down her neck, things are getting hot in the kitchen. Can she pull it all together, or will her culinary career end as just another flash in the pan?

"What are you doing here?"

"Someone accused me of not knowing what dirt beneath my nails feels like."

I pull a stubborn tomato from the vine and grin. "Beneath your manicured nails..."

"They're not manicured," he corrects as he sets a tomato in my bucket, "they're buffed."

I swear I see a smile.

"My mistake," I say. I peer up from where I kneel in the dirt. "Are you actually staying?"

"I heard some sunshine would improve my disposition."

I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. "Well, I'm sure your nail lady can clean you up when you're done."

He sets a knee into the dirt, and my heart leaps despite my best efforts to ignore him.

"You do realize I'm a surgeon right? My hands are inside of my patients. Cleanliness is pretty essential."

I don't say anything. He laughs as my smug expression because he knows I'm not impressed by his reasoning.

"And her name is Pia not nail lady. She's a person. Have a little class, Dakota," Sawyer teases.