When
Kenzi Middleton, a sassy, out-of-work graphic designer, steps into
Doughy Desires, she expects an awkward blind date, not a job interview. Talk about mixed signals! With financial pressures mounting, Kenzi sees this twist of fate as a much-needed lifeline.
Which is why Kenzi lies through her teeth to the broodingly gorgeous bakery owner, Mr. Darcy, erm—Bishop
Caine. Kenzi knows she should absolutely not be crushing on her new
boss, she has enough trouble discerning sugar from salt.
Yet
despite Bishop being her exact opposite, amidst stolen glances and Jane
Austen misquotes, a passion ignites between them that rivals the hottest
oven. Just as she starts to weaken his gruff exterior, town rivalries,
spiteful rumors, and a cutthroat bake-off threatens their budding
romance.
If only she can get around the deceit of her baking
bluff, then she just might have a chance at happiness. Or it could fall
flatter than a deflated souffle...
Will Kenzi’s rising dough of deceptions lead to a recipe for disaster, or can love prove the sweetest ingredient of all?
Note: May cause uncontrollable cravings for baked goods. And while there is no sex or swearing, passionate kisses are guaranteed!
🧁💕Read an Excerpt from The Sweetest Ingredient 🧁💕
We climbed the creaky wooden stairs, and the noise from the bakery receded. I missed a step, and he steadied me, his hand warm against my skin, sending a ripple of heat that spiraled up from my toes, through my legs, and enveloped me.
When we reached the top of the stairwell, I pushed open the door to reveal the rooftop. A chill breeze instantly swept through my wavy hair as we stepped outside. String lights that crisscrossed overhead cast delicate shadows on the old brick walls. The town unfolded before us and in the distance, a gentle roar echoed from the waterfall, spilling over the rock-strewn embankment.
Bishop blew out a breath. “I haven’t been up here in months.”
I placed the teacups on a round metal table between two rusty lawn chairs. Jordan had left a plush blanket draped over one of the seats. Grabbing it, I flung it over my shoulders before settling down on the chair with a satisfied sigh.
Bishop sat beside me, close enough that our knees almost touched, but maintaining a respectful distance. We reclined and took in the stunning evening sky. Stars sparkled like gems against the inky black canvas. I became increasingly aware of Bishop’s nearness, the heat emanating from his body, the scent of his cologne, and the way his breathing was slow and steady.
“Look at that view. It makes you feel so small, doesn’t it?” I whispered.
“It does put things into perspective.”
The soft murmur of cars cruising the streets mingled with the soft rustling of leaves and created a soothing soundtrack, making it easy to forget the world that existed beyond the rooftop’s edge.
The wind picked up, teasing the edges of the blanket. I shivered, drawing the fabric tighter around myself.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“Just a little.”
He lifted a teacup. “This should help warm you up.”
When he passed the cup to me, our fingers brushed against each other and heat spread through me. He kept his gaze on mine and my heart beat faster. His pupils dilated to an intense depth, dark and sultry, that caused every nerve ending to tingle. And suddenly I was teetering on the brink of a high cliff. My instincts whispered to me to be cautious, but that magnetic pull was drawing me closer to the precipice. Everything blurred at the edges, focusing on the man before me. And even more disconcerting was the feeling that I didn’t want to retreat from the ledge.
Each second stretched on, as if waiting for one of us to bridge the distance. I had never felt this way about a man I was attracted to, and I knew that whatever was happening might end with someone taking a leap.
Neither of us moved.
Breaking eye contact, he sighed and looked upward, gazing at the glowing moon.
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