Excerpt from My Fine Fellow by Jennieke Cohen, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"I'll take it, miss, and thank ye for it." The boy winked at her then, and Penelope looked away from the exchange, realizing that the young man might have been attractive if he washed the dirt from his face and had the waves of his brown hair cut into a semblance of a shape.

"Well, I never," Clara said, and pulled her mother's arm so they stood farther away from the boy.

He smirked. His gaze then landed on Penelope, now standing alone under the portico. She scanned the stalls for Helena again, but saw no one resembling her.

"Buy a Faraway Pasty, miss?" the boy asked. He lifted the cloth off his tray, and the smell of fried dough, beef, and oregano wafted toward her.

Penelope blinked. "Empanadas?"

His light brown eyes, framed by thick lashes wet from the rain, widened. "What a clever one you are! Not one person in twenty knows 'em by their right name. Just fer that, I'll give you two fer the price of one."

Penelope raised a brow. She doubted she was getting much of a discount, but she had come to eat, after all. "How much?"

"Just tuppence, miss. Not a penny more."

Penelope riffled through her pocket and handed him two copper pennies. He held out the tray for her to choose from. She pulled out her handkerchief and used it to take two plump, medium orange ones with a few browned spots from the center of the tray. Despite the cold evening, they still held some warmth. He covered them again and raised an eyebrow as though waiting for her to taste. Penelope took a bite from the flat end of one of the pouches so she could perceive the filling's flavor. The perfectly fried corn-based dough and well-spiced minced beef, diced potato, and onion mixture yielded under her teeth. Surprised, she glanced at him. He grinned back with a slightly crooked smile.

The spices sang to Penelope of heat and love and generations of hardship. "Salvadoran?"

"Not I, but"—he tilted his head as if to tell her a secret—"I learned it from a Salvadoran."

Penelope raised her brows. She hadn't even known there were any Salvadorans in London. She took another bite. "Paprika in the masa instead of achiote?"

His eyes lit up. "Best I could do."

Penelope nodded and wrapped the rest in her handkerchief. She wouldn't think many London purveyors would carry achiote, anyway—let alone sell it cheaply. "Your Salvadoran friend taught you well."

"These aren't even my specialty. You should try my squash-blossom corn pasties. Best in London when they're in season."

Penelope raised an eyebrow. It sounded like something she'd had with her parents during their time in Mexico. The ones she'd eaten had been uncomplicated, but clean, straightforward food at its most delicious. "And where did you learn those?"

He shrugged with one shoulder. "Now, now, a fella can't reveal all his secrets, can he?"

Penelope raised a brow. Cooks, chefs, and Culinarians alike often kept their special recipes to themselves, but so few people in Britain had any but the smallest knowledge of the cuisines of the Americas that she found herself wondering why he didn't care to reveal his source. "I suppose not."

"Course, for a lady so pretty as yourself, I might be persuaded ... if you saw fit to buy another." He lifted the tray nearer Penelope's face as the corner of his lips kicked up at one side—the kind of smile she imagined rakish gentlemen used to attract naive girls who had greater dowries than judgment. On him, though, she didn't know if it was anything more than a way of enticing her to buy more empanadas.

She had to hand it to him; the young man was a good salesman. "I'm afraid I've hit my limit for Salvadoran empanadas this evening." After all, she had a night of tasting in front of her, and a lady had to preserve her figure somehow. Her trip across the Americas had already added more curve to her shape than she'd departed England with.

Excerpted from My Fine Fellow by Jennieke Cohen. Copyright © 2022 by Jennieke Cohen. Excerpted by permission of HarperTeen. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.