By Sandra D. Bricker
Thirty-six-year-old Emma Rae Travis has been baking uniqueness brownies and melt-in-your-mouth pastries on the Backstreet Bakery in historical Roswell, simply outdoors of Atlanta, for the final six years. yet right here s the rub approximately her task as a baker ... Emma is diabetic. whilst she tastes her creations, it may in simple terms be within the so much minute parts. Emma is taken into account an artisan for the beautiful cr??me brulee marriage ceremony cake that received her the Passionate Palette Award final 12 months, yet she s by no means even had one complete slice of it. whilst Jackson Drake hears approximately this neighborhood baker who has received a prestigious award for her marriage ceremony cake artistry, he tells his assistant to make certain and comprise her within the pastry tastings scheduled at his new marriage ceremony vacation spot inn the next week. And for Jackson, that specific day has began badly with workmen trapped in a damaged elevator and a supply of a number of dozen 300-thread-count mattress linens within the incorrect measurement deserted within the foyer. but if the conceited baker he met per week previous in Roswell stumbles into the eating room with a platter of pastries and a bucketful of orders, he understands for yes: It s going to be a very rotten day. Can those ill-suited avid gamers grasp the high-wire act and make a move in their new company enterprise? Or will they take one another crashing downward, and not using a internet? and should the shock marriage ceremony on the Tanglewood be theirs?
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Additional resources for Always the Baker, Never the Bride
Do you want to borrow my choker? ” Emma stared for a moment at the jagged silver rendition of thorny barbed wire circling Fee’s throat, and then she shook her head. “Thanks anyway. I’m thinking I’ll go simple. ” They carefully transferred the sample tray to the passenger seat, and Emma double-checked the plastic-domed lid to make sure it was secure before setting the lipped platter bearing two miniature wedding cakes on top of it. “Too bad we can’t belt them in,” Fee observed. ” Emma looked at her Mini Cooper, then at Fee, and back again.
Jackson suggested. ” Jackson wanted to laugh, but instead he just shook his head. A pastry chef who knows about elevator cables and drive belts. Now if I can just hire a front desk manager who can rotate the tires on my car. Jackson strode down the hallway and into his office. He’d forgotten about the plate of cakes on his desk until he sat down in his chair, and then his sweet tooth got the better of him, inspiration to fetch himself a cup of coffee. He popped a square of blonde brownie into his mouth, and then he leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes while he savored it.
Not nearly enough time to file down the jagged edges around her. Emma took a slow stroll down the wide hallway from the lobby that led toward the restaurant and kitchens. Two swinging doors stood before her, both of them freshly painted white, identical with their round acrylic windows and stainless-steel kick plates, not a smudge in sight. She smiled as she softly nudged the one on the right, taking such pleasure in the gentle whoosh as the door separated from the rubber insulation around the jamb.
Always the Baker, Never the Bride by Sandra D. Bricker