#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery awakens the senses—and fills the heart with warmth and laughter—in this tantalizing novel of a chocolatier’s search for love’s sweetest rewards. The free-spirited owner of a booming chocolate emporium, Allison Thomas is out to save the world—one truffle at a time. Everyone adores Ali—who wouldn’t love a lady who sneaks midnight chocolate deliveries to the local health spa? And even if her love life is on hold, Ali’s perfectly content with her high-flying career. That is, until the mysterious Matt Baker arrives. New to town, Matt quickly gets under her skin and leads her into temptation. But neither love nor chocolate seems to melt Matt’s icy heart. So Ali has no choice but to pull out all the stops in this “unforgettable combination of humor and sizzle” (Christina Dodd, New York Times bestselling author). Susan Mallery is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of novels about the relationships that define women’s lives—family, friendship, romance. As “the master of blending emotionally believable characters in realistic situations” ( Library Journal ), she has sold over forty million copies of her books worldwide. Susan grew up in California and now lives in Seattle with her husband. She’s passionate about animal welfare, especially that of the ragdoll cat and adorable poodle who think of her as mom. Chapter One chapter one Hey, Ali. I found you a man.” Allison Thomas blinked sleepily and thought about hiding her head under the pillow. However, the phone pressed against her ear might get in the way. “Was I looking for one?” she asked. “Sure. You’ve been bugging me for weeks.” There was a pause, followed by an impatient sigh. “Ali, it’s me, Harry.” Ali pushed the pillow away and sat up. “Harry?” Her sluggish brain pulled together random bits of information. Harry, the local handyman. Her business downstairs. How Harry had been teasing her with the promise of doing actual work for weeks on her business downstairs. “Are you finally going to build my shelves?” “Nope. I’ve hired me a new guy. If this one works out, I think he’ll stay around and buy me out.” Ali resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Harry was always hiring some new guy, and anytime an employee stayed longer than a week, Harry became convinced he’d finally found someone interested in buying his small handyman business. “I hope that happens,” she said sincerely. “In the meantime, is he going to do some work for me?” “Sure thing. I’ve already sent him over to start your shelves. I’ll be by this afternoon to check on his progress.” “Okay. Great.” She was drowning in office supplies, cooking supplies, and mailing containers. She needed more stock space in her storage room. While Harry wasn’t known for hiring the brightest bulbs in the chandelier, how hard could it be to make a few shelves and paint some walls? She could probably do it herself if she had the time, which she didn’t. “When can I expect him?” “He should be there any minute.” “Okay.” Ali blinked, then sat up straighter in bed. “What? Like now?” “Yeah. He left about fifteen minutes ago, but he’s walking.” Ali glanced down at the soft cotton T-shirt that barely came to midthigh. Underneath she wore exactly nothing. Her hair was a mess. She was a mess, and not the least prepared for Harry’s helper. She swore under her breath. “Next time give me a little more warning, Harry,” she said. “You’re welcome.” His cheerful reply set her teeth on edge. She hung up the phone, then scrambled out of bed. It was nearly eight, and on a normal morning she would have been awake for hours. Or at least since seven. But work had kept her up well past midnight. Again. Ali pulled off her sleep shirt and tossed it onto the four-poster, brass bed. She grabbed underwear, a bra, jeans, and a T-shirt that proclaimed her “Queen of Everything” and dressed. When she dug in her closet for sneakers, she found one and had to waste precious minutes searching for the mate. Damn. One of these days she was going to clean up the floor in here and get a shoe organizer, the kind with the clear front so she could see where everything was. Or, if she really went wild, she could hire one of those anal-retentive people who made their living organizing other people’s lives. That was what she really needed. A reorganized life. In the meantime she would settle for a pair of matching shoes. “Gotcha,” she murmured, spotting a familiar green shoelace sticking out from under the bed. She skipped socks and shoved her feet into the shoes, sidestepping the circling of her black-and-white cat, Domino. Ali then turned around to stare into the mirror. As usual, her long dark hair was a tangled riot of curls. On models in magazines the disarray looked artful. On her it looked like a scary “before” shot in a makeover. No time, she thought and rooted through the piles of clips, makeup, and jewelry on the top of her dresser until she found a