Friendly reminder of emotional love stories to nourish your five
senses & squeeze your heart! What goes on in your kitchen?
Like Slow Sweet Molasses
#1 RRP Hotseller
Genre: Mainstream Interracial Romance
Heat: Sensual
Price: $4.99 Amazon/ $4.79 Coffeetime + CTR
has my other RRP romances reduced
Scene:
Angela allows Chance to
offer her refuge after she learns of a long hidden family secret.
Chance
ambled into the kitchen intending to rustle up a couple of sandwiches, putting
the peanut butter, jelly and bread on the table. He wasn't a great cook but
held his own as far as bachelor meals were concerned. He hadn't shopped in days
and offered what he had available. Mismatched plates clanked in one hand as the
other secured the milk carton and two glasses. The butter knife was the final
item to the party.
Continuing,
he asked, "Want to talk about it?"
"Nothing
to tell. I'm a b*****d baby, that's all." A crimson stain flushed upwards
indicating it started from her toes.
Her
admission floored him.
"My
father is a b*****d who treated my mom like a rug and loved his children like a
drug addict loved getting busted. I don't consider that a reflection on me."
He began slapping peanut butter on slices of wheat bread using the same knife
to dip the jelly.
"Not
the same thing I can assure you." Watching him fix the first sandwich, she
stopped him before he moved on to the next. "Nothing for me. Thanks."
He
saw the little wrinkle on the bridge of her nose. "Don't eat peanut
butter?"
"Can't
eat peanut butter. Deathly allergic."
"Oh.
How about a jelly sandwich, then?" Chance's big bite lopped his sandwich
in half.
"Can't."
Beating him to the punch, she explained, "You put the peanut butter knife
in the jelly. Any peanut residue can send my body into anaphylactic shock."
Chance
opened an overhead cabinet to remove a fresh jar of apple jelly and plopped
down a clean knife for her use. Angela dug in with relish, rewarding him with a
semi-smile. "All these years," she licked at the jelly on her fingers,
"and I never suspected a thing."
Cutie and the Cowboy Trucker
#1 Bookstrand Mainstream Bestseller
Genre: Mainstream African-American Romance
Heat: Sensual
Price: $2.66
Scene:
Veronica and
Mike try to wind down after a horrific event that happened in the wee hours of
the morning tests her trust in him.
Distress
entered her eyes.
"I'm
sorry for dredging up sad memories. Losing your love is heart-stopping."
His
chair scraped when he sat. "You say that like you've been there."
She
sighed. "I have."
Veronica
seemed to spend a few private moments back in time. Her look expressed deepest
sympathies better than any spoken words. Tiredness etched her face as the wee
hours of the morning shed its darkness. The rumble outside lassoed Mike's
attention.
"That's
one of my drivers coming in." Mike left the table for a look across the
yard. He drank from his cup while watching the truck limp to a stop. "That
doesn't look good."
Veronica
joined him at the window. "All the more reason for me to get out of your
hair."
"I
meant it when I said you're not in the way here." He faced her now. "Don't
make a drastic decision you'll regret."
"Too
late," she whispered.
"Regrets
about the trade, huh?"
"If
only you knew."
Mike
gulped the last dregs of his coffee. "I think I have a problem I need to
solve."
"I'll
take that." Her reach for his mug brushed his hand.
"Thanks,"
Mike said, his concentration glued on other matters now. He paid scant
attention, absently let go of his cup, and pecked her a spontaneous good-bye on
the lips. The feathery touch shocked him. "Veronica!" He was
embarrassed. "I–I—"
Her
eyes were as wide as saucers.
"Please
forgive me. I didn't mean for that to happen. I wasn't thinking."
"Mike,
it's okay. No harm done." She put distance between them.
"Here
I am, trying to convince you I'm trustworthy, and I do a boneheaded thing like
that."
"You
aren't going to jump my bones when I turn my back, are you, Mike?"
Her
question alarmed him. "Hell no!"
"Okay."
Veronica snickered. "It's forgotten."
With
that, Mike rushed out of the kitchen, mumbling to himself as he went. But he
was long out of earshot for her to understand what he said. He beat up on
himself. Twenty-four hours in Veronica's company and she had rattled the bars
jailing his heart.
Mike
loped on toward the garage. He was hesitant to look back, yet he was unable to
fight her allure. He took the chance.
Veronica waved. He ducked behind his
truck. A hasty peek let him see she'd gotten the hint and vacated the window.
BayouBabe99er
5 Star B&N Reader Rating
Genre: Mainstream Interracial Romance
Heat: Sensual
Price: $2.51
Scene:
Although Sharlene
appreciates Drake's help in rescuing her uncle, she tries to discourage his
persistent advances.
...Sharlene busied
herself in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the coffee started last
evening. Drake's appearance provoked her to head for the door.
"Thanks
again." She flung it wide open.
"Aren't you
going to offer me a cup?"
"I'm worn out,
and I'm sure you are, too."
"You owe me the
rest of the story, Sharlene."
"You know all I
know." She kept her answers short and curt to discourage his visit.
Drake covered her
hand, the one holding the door. "I really came to warn you
yesterday." He eased the door to a close. "I didn't tell anyone your
identity," he promised, leaning closer.
Sharlene ducked.
"Business association only." The coffeepot beeped right on time. She
escaped right under his nose.
Two mugs and the
fixings hit the table. Sharlene used that distraction as her invitation for him
to wander over to a seat. She bustled about the kitchen in an attempt to give
the goose bumps that sprang up on her arms time to vanish before she joined
him. She'd forgotten the warm, homey sensation that surrounded one when in the
presence of someone special.
Sharlene poured the
steaming hot coffee, took her seat, and sampled her creamy, sweetened brew. She
eyed Drake over the rim of her cup, cognizant that he pretended indifference to
her blatant observation. Her secret thoughts evaporated into thin air
throughout the cozy kitchen with each hindered breath she inhaled.
* * * *
The very idea Drake
faced a challenge to his love sobriety intensified the nagging question about
his future. He had muddled through life on autopilot since the tragic deaths of
his family nearly four years ago. Work was his company keeper—his sanity
regulator. Looking at the gorgeous redhead on the other side of the table had
him wondering if he was ready for a heart fixer. Better yet, was she ready for
him?
He spooned sugar into his coffee, lounged back in his seat, and
kept a daring eye on Sharlene. Sharlene returned his gaze. Her eyes shifted
from his face to keep track of each sweep of his hand as the spoon clanged
against his cup. The ticking seconds strengthened his resolve to pursue her affections.
They sipped through a six-cup pot—slowly. Drake was satisfied to savor the
quiet moment where only she existed in his world.
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