Her Most Bitter Harvest

Summary

The eighteenth time Simone brought her male colleague home for dinner, he arrived carrying a velvet-lined wooden box of imported Italian white truffles.

I had spent four hours in the kitchen preparing an elaborate spread, but right at the end, out of habit, I pulled a mason jar from the back of the refrigerator and set out a small bowl of my parents’ homemade pickled cucumbers.

Connor wrinkled his nose, instinctively lifting a hand to cover his face.

Simone caught his expression. Her brow knit immediately.