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What is a woman to do when she's past the bloom of youth, but tall, dark, and handsome comes knocking at the door?
Eat fudge, of course. That's what I did.
All while trying and failing to figure out just where my story went wrong. A writer has to write, even if her eccentric aunt has other ideas. Ideas like death by a thousand tiny paper cuts because I killed off her favorite bookish hero away back when, and she hasn't forgiven me yet.
Making my life uncomfortable has become her primary focus. She seems to be aiming for a "random acts of humiliation" vibe. Broom-handle whacks, embarrassing tidbits shared through the open front door, and even a spot (or a lot) of matchmaking.
And when our not-so-peaceful existence gets turned on end by a late-night prowler?
It's enough to drive a woman to truffles... and maybe even to tall, dark, and handsome next door.