At the Heavenly Bites Bakery, three very different women
bake up delectable treats and find romance with some unexpected but equally
delectable men. Find out how in these
three short and sweet novellas, finally available as a collection and in
paperback form…
Pastels and Jingle
Bells: When Trish Ackerly crosses
paths with Ian Rafferty, the former bully of her childhood years, her plans for
a comeuppance fall by the wayside as she comes to realize that the man he is
now is very different from the boy he used to be—and that a Christmas romance
might just be in her future.
Love Lessons: When bakery customer Mrs. Beasley guilts
Nadia Normandy into mentoring unsuspecting accountant Benji Garner in the world
of dating, Nadia soon discovers that this particular accountant has a charm all
his own. And with New Year’s Eve just
around the corner, it may be time for Nadia to make a resolution to sweep her
protégé off his feet before someone else beats her to it.
Playing Cupid: Free-spirited Aimee Beasley’s plans to match
her widowed grandmother up with a distinguished elderly gentleman hit a snag
when she learns he’s the uncle of their downstairs neighbor, grim Doyle
Berkely, a man with whom Aimee butts heads on a regular basis. But in the process of nudging her
grandmother’s romance along, Aimee uncovers a softer side to Doyle that may
lead to a little romance of her own…
SPECIAL SALE: From May 27 to June 2, the Heavenly Bites novella collection for your kindle is only $0.99 on Amazon! That's a savings of $3.00
Excerpt
Pastels and Jingle Bells: Heavenly Bites Novella #1
It was probably
inviting the worst kind of karma to be contemplating murder during the holiday
season of all times, but that didn’t faze Trish Ackerly in the slightest as
she stared through her bakery’s storefront window in shock.
It was him.
Ian Rafferty, bane of her junior high school existence. She’d know that
face anywhere, despite the changes in it. Sure, he was a couple of feet
taller now and certainly broader shouldered, but as he glanced away from the
winter scene she had painted on the window only yesterday and at a passing car
that whizzed by much too fast on the busy city street, the profile he
presented to her confirmed it. Yes, it was him. That same
nose, the odd little scar above his eye, the familiar way he quirked his lips…
Her eyes
narrowed. Ian Rafferty. That miserable, mean-spirited little—
Then he turned his
face back to the window, and Trish gasped and dropped to the floor before he
could spot her staring at him.
“What on earth are
you doing?” came Nadia’s voice from behind the counter.
Trish huddled behind
a tall metal trash can and glanced up through her dark bangs at her startled
friend and business partner only to remember belatedly that they had company in
the shop, namely wizened little Mrs. Beasley, whose startled eyes blinked at
her from behind enormous tortoise-shell spectacles.
Well, there was
little help for it now. “That guy,” Trish hissed, jerking one thumb in
the direction of the window. “I know him!”
Both Nadia and Mrs.
Beasley peered intently through the glass. “Mmm,” said Nadia
appreciatively a moment later. “Lucky you, girlfriend.”
“No, not lucky
me! That guy made my life a living hell in junior high. He’s a
jerk, he’s a bully—“
“He’s coming in
here, dear,” Mrs. Beasley interrupted her, with obvious interest in her voice.
With a squeak of
alarm, Trish shuffled hastily behind the counter on her hands and knees and
hunched into as small and inconspicuous a ball as she could.
Nadia blinked.
“Trish, are you out of your—“
“Sh!”
“Oh, you did not
just shush me—“
“SHH!” Trish
insisted again, knowing full well that she’d pay for it later, and then she
pulled her head down into her shoulders as much as her anatomy would allow.
The bell on the door
jangled cheerfully then, and a gust of cold air heralded Ian Rafferty’s
arrival.
“Hi, there,” Nadia
greeted him brightly, surreptitiously giving Trish’s foot a little dig with one
of her own. “Welcome to Heavenly Bites. What can I get for you?”
“Cup of coffee would
be great for starters,” came a voice that was deep but soft, and far less
reptilian than Trish expected. She cocked her head slightly to better
catch his words and heard the unmistakable sound of him blowing on his hands
and rubbing them together to warm them. “Cream, no sugar.”
“Sure thing, honey.”
“Your window art,”
his voice continued, and Trish straightened ever so slightly at the mention of
her work. “It’s fantastic. Can I ask who painted it?”
“Absolutely,” Nadia
returned, turning her attention to getting the coffee he requested. “My
business partner, Trish.”
“Is she around, by
any chance?”
Nadia glanced down
at where Trish sat scrunched up and did what Trish thought was a very poor job
of suppressing a smirk. “She’s, um, indisposed at the moment. Why
do you ask?”
“I’ve got a couple
of windows that could use a little holiday cheer. Think she might be
interested in the job?”
Nadia gave Trish
another brief sideways glance.
Trish shook her head
frantically.
“Tell you
what. Leave me your number, and we’ll find out.” Nadia stepped out
of reach before Trish could smack her leg.
“Great,
thanks. Here’s my card.”
“I’ll see that she
gets it, Mr.—“ Nadia glanced at the card. “—Rafferty. Here’s
your coffee, and you, sir, have a very nice day.”
The bell on the door
jingled again, and Trish cautiously poked her head up long enough to verify
that Ian was indeed gone. She then ignored the fascinated look Mrs.
Beasley was giving her and fixed an icy stare on Nadia. “I’m going to
kill you. How could you do that?”
Nadia tossed her
dark braids over her shoulder. “Hmph. Shush me in my own shop…”
“I don’t want to
talk to that guy! I don’t want to have anything to do with him.”
“He seemed nice
enough to me,” her friend returned, shrugging unapologetically. “And easy
on the eyes, too.”
“And single,” put in
Mrs. Beasley eagerly, one wrinkled hand fluttering over her heart. “No
wedding ring.”
“Of course there’s
no ring! No woman wants to marry the devil!” Trish sank back down
onto the floor and leaned back heavily against the shelves behind her.
“He used to
be the devil,” Nadia corrected her, examining the business card he had handed
to her. “Now he’s ‘Ian Rafferty, Landscape Architect’. And he’s a
paying customer, Trish. Face it, you could use the money.”
“Forget it.
I’m not so hard up that I’d go crawling to Ian Rafferty for a job.” Trish
scowled and folded her arms across her chest. “I have my dignity, you
know.”
“Yeah? Why
don’t you get up off the floor and tell me all about your dignity.”
“Oh, shut up,” Trish muttered, getting to
her feet and snatching the card from Nadia’s hand. Wadding it up, she
tossed it in the direction of the trashcan and stalked into the bakery’s
kitchen.
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