Here’s a taste of Sam & Leigh’s  story, from Chapter One:

Leigh jogged across Dundas Street, waving a thank-you at the rare gentleman who’d stopped to respect the pedestrian crossing. Another minute and she’d have given up and turned back to her shop. She had three-dozen cupcakes to transform into superheroes, a double-layer, red-velvet cake to bake, and an appointment with a bridezilla before this day ended—and it was already two-thirty. But first, she needed a coffee.

Correction, she needed somebody else to make and serve her a coffee. A big fancy one with a triple shot of eighteen-percent cream and a generous dose of sugar. Every minute of her day was allotted for something specific. This minute, along with the next five, were scheduled for coffee. The schedule kept her sane. On busy days like today, so did a big fancy coffee.

She pulled the door and stepped into Bean There, blinking as her eyes adjusted from the bright, June day to the coffee shop’s interior lighting. A couple more blinks and the darkness morphed into shadowy outlines of tables and chairs, dotted with midafternoon patrons—one of whom was looking her way. Intently.

Leigh checked over her shoulder, ready to apologize for blocking somebody’s path, but saw only the door. Maybe she’d been wrong, maybe the lighting had played tricks with her vision and he hadn’t been staring in her direction.

She glanced at the guy again while walking toward the counter. Nope, she hadn’t been wrong.

He was definitely watching her. Maybe she had flour in her hair or a smear of icing across her t-shirt. Whatever the reason, she’d take it, because the guy staring from under the low brim of his ballcap had the best shoulders and arms she’d seen on a man outside the gym. The body of a hot younger man. And, oh god, he was smiling.

Something about him pinged on her radar. More than raw attraction, there was a sense of familiarity. Hard to know for sure while her vision was still muted. The fact that she couldn’t see any features above his sexy, smiling mouth didn’t help either.

He’d probably been in the bakery with some equally young fiancée, checking out wedding cakes, and had smiled at her out of recognition. Or, since she’d been cursed with one of those faces that never lie—and his good looks and the blip of attention he’d given her had initiated a pleasant tingle to the south—he was simply amused by the cougar drooling over him.

Regardless, no more ogling. But, oh boy, his sexy grin was a keeper for later.

“Large vanilla latté with whipped cream and cinnamon, please. To go.” She poked at a handful of coins while the coffeehouse barista prepared her order. A total ruse, she’d brought exact change plus a fifty-cent tip, as always.

The money gave her something to focus on. Her peripheral vision still worked though, and it was in overdrive, thanks to ballcap guy’s muscle-filled, army-green t-shirt. He was yummier than the dessert coffee she’d ordered.

And he was leaving. He stood, slapped his male companion on the shoulder, and disappeared from her subtle sightline.

She exhaled slowly, smiling politely when her cup of comfort landed on the counter. Back to reality.

“Hey, Leigh.” A deep, friendly voice slid into her ear from behind. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

She knew that voice from the gym—or house of pain, as she’d once renamed it, thanks to her former personal trainer’s rigorous sessions.

“Hey, Sam,” she said, turning—and nearly dropping the five-dollar latté when the source of the deep voice came into view.

Hat. Army-green t-shirt packed solid with muscles. Handsome, smiling face, which she could now see more of than just his mouth. Sam was the guy.

She’d only seen him in gym attire, not in street clothes. And never wearing a hat. She wouldn’t have thought he could get hotter than he’d been at the gym. He could. He absolutely could.

“Got it?” He still held her hand where he’d caught it and the fumbled takeout cup, saving her drink and preventing a giant, sticky mess.

Which had her mind conjuring other sticky messes she and Sam could create. Sexy ones. Not a good train of thought with the object of her lusty infatuation looking into her eyes.

“Yes, I’ve got it now, thanks,” she said, finding words that wouldn’t get her in trouble. “I didn’t recognize you without your gym clothes.” Heat flooded her cheeks as Sam’s smile stretched into a wider grin. “As in, wearing clothes other than your gym clothes. Obviously, since I’ve never seen you naked.” So much for finding words that wouldn’t get her in trouble. “Well, I didn’t make this awkward at all, did I?”

“Not one bit.”

That should have been the end of it. They should be exchanging polite goodbyes and going their separate ways. Only he didn’t say goodbye. Nor did he let go of her hand.

“Are you rushing off to somewhere, or do you have a few minutes to sit and catch up?”

Zero minutes, that’s what she had. Negative minutes, actually. Yet the words that came out of her mouth were, “Sure, yes.”

“Great.” He released her hand, then placed his at the small of her back, using the contact to guide her toward a booth at the back of the café.

Maybe she’d stepped through some crack in reality and this wasn’t her neighborhood coffee shop, but an alternate version. One where a hot young gym trainer wanted to spend his unpaid, personal time with a woman at least a decade older.

“So, what’s new, how’re you doing?” he asked after sliding onto the opposite bench. “Still hitting the gym a lot? Because you look fantastic. As always.” He couldn’t be flirting, he was just being nice. Because he was a nice guy. A nice, super-hot, too-young-for-her guy.

She fiddled with the cardboard sleeve circling her cup. Dared a glance across the table and found him smiling at her. A genuine smile, or one damn good facsimile thereof. Either way, it warmed her more than the coffee she sipped.

“Nothing new with me, everything’s good, and yes to working out regularly.” She toyed with her cup, contemplated. If he laughed in her face, so be it. What was a little more embarrassment in the grand scheme of things? “I miss seeing you at the gym.”

“New trainer not kicking your ass hard enough?”

“I don’t have a new trainer.”

His eyebrows rose, then his gaze drifted lower, over every inch of her body not obscured by the table. “I know I said it already, but you look great. You definitely don’t need a trainer anymore.”

“Thank you.”

“That’s one of the things I’ve always liked about you. You know how to take a compliment.” He leaned forward and folded his arms on the table. “Confidence is a sexy thing.” His gaze tracked her tongue as she licked a spot of whipped cream from her lips. “So is watching you drink that coffee.” He’d just called her sexy, after complimenting her physique.

This was officially the best coffee break ever.