Burned by Hadley Harlin

Yeah, that was me on national television looking like a lunatic.
I thought competing on a global cooking show would be my ticket to fame, the perfect launch pad for my culinary career.
Instead, it led to a panic attack on the cold tiles of an industrial kitchen.
I’ll lick my wounds on the family farm in Missouri, sleeping all day and ignoring my Twitter feed all night, which is blowing up, of course.
Tall, dark, and broody was definitely not on my to-do list, even if he is the older, way hotter brother of my high school boyfriend.
He’s the town grump for a reason, and he claims he doesn’t have time to talk, especially to a city girl.
But I’ve seen flashes of passion.
He stares too hard and lingers too long, even when he’s complaining about me.
If I really want to relax and recharge, maybe I should learn to go with the flow.
Like they say, the best way to get over a failed career is to get under a farmer boy.