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Ismell bacon. Anna shot up in bed. And sugary goodness. She threw off the covers, wrapped up in her bath robe and shuffled into her slippers. This was her favorite part of Christmas Day. Spike’s breakfasts were amazing, but Christmas breakfast …
She swung her door open wide, practically skipping to the kitchen. The counter was lined with bacon, sausage, cream cheese coffee cake, orange danishes, some cinnamony-looking bread and—oh my gosh—“Are those beignets?”
She slid onto a stool, reaching for a puffed square of fried dough buried under a mound of powdered sugar, and shoved it in her mouth. “Mmumpf,” she moaned, eyes rolling back in her head. Spike slid her a glass of the creamiest hot chocolate ever made, and she washed down the sugar with a swig of liquefied truffle. Steam coiled
