?? My name is Sunny Burns. I turn campfire food into art. Yes, I’ve heard every joke.
No, none of them are as funny as the smokejumper who just blasted my entire pop-up tasting camp with a fire hose because he mistook my artisan s’mores setup for a wildfire.
His name is Flint Sparks. I know. I KNOW. He says I owe him — unpermitted fire during fire season. I say he owes me — thousands in destroyed product, a soaking wet crew, and what’s left of my dignity.
My producer says we should settle it with a $25,000 campfire cook-off on camera. Gourmet vs. old-school. Neither of us can say no. Three days of competition. One mountain.
And a man whose hands are as good with fire as mine are — just in ways that have nothing to do with cooking.
?? Enemies-to-lovers ? Competition romance ? Forced proximity ? Grumpy-sunshine ? Mountain man ? Guaranteed HEA
Quick, hot, and bingeable in one sitting.
