There’s only one thing I want spread out on my Thanksgiving table this year, and it’s not a turkey. It’s my new hire. My assistants keep quitting, and apparently I’m the problem. Surely not. I just haven’t found the right one. Until her. And of all places to find her—a pumpkin farm. There’s no way she’s cut out to work in my world, but I find myself offering her the job anyway. Maybe it’s because she’s desperate to save her family farm. No, it’s because I want her in my bed. Mixing business and pleasure is a terrible idea, but this woman seems to be worth my downfall.