How Sweet It Is
Authors: Melissa Brayden
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Some things are better than chocolate...
Molly O’Brien is a sweetheart. Her friends and neighbors all think so. While she enjoys her quiet life running the town bakeshop in Applewood, Illinois, she wonders if there could be more. After losing the love of her life four years prior in a plane crash, Molly thinks she’s ready to navigate the dicey dating waters once again. However, you can’t always pick who your heart latches on to. When Jordan Tuscana, the beautiful younger sister of her lost love, returns to town, Molly finds her interest piqued in a manner she wasn’t prepared for.
As secrets are uncovered, Molly and Jordan must figure out how to navigate the difficult terrain of their multi-faceted relationship. Especially when something much deeper seems to be bubbling between them.
How Sweet It Is
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How Sweet It Is
© 2013 By Melissa Brayden. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-62639-000-3
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: November 2013
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Cindy Cresap
Production Design: Susan Ramundo
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
Waiting in the Wings
Heart Block
How Sweet It Is
I’ve never lived in a small town. Not one like this. But there’s something about the concept that drew me in and made me want to write about it. Applewood, Illinois, is a fictional place, but it charmed me and made me want to stay awhile. I hope you’ll feel the same way.
As with any creative project, there are a lot of working parts. There were so many people who had a hand in bringing this novel into existence, and as always, I’m in awe and I’m grateful. Here are some thoughts:
Family plays a big role in this story, and that’s a reflection of how big of a role it plays in my life. I’m the youngest of three sisters and my parents have been married for forty-five years. No family is perfect, but mine is pretty close. I’d like to thank them for giving me the best foundation possible as well as tons of laughs along the way.
Sometimes when you’re close to a story, it’s hard to see the forest for the trees. Thereby, I was lucky to have my editor, Cindy Cresap, be my eyes on this one and offer perspective when I didn’t have it. This book is stronger as a result.
Len Barot, Bold Strokes Books, and everyone associated with it have been nothing but friendly, warm, and encouraging to me since we first started working together. I feel at home here and that’s everything.
People do judge books by their covers. It’s just a fact of life. I’m lucky in that my cover artist, Sheri, is top-notch and can somehow mirror the stories as I see them. This cover is certainly no exception.
Inspiration is an important component when it comes to writing. In good news, Alan inspires me daily. Whether it comes from silly jokes, softball pep talks, or long discussions over a bottle of red, it’s always there.
As much as I love to write, to create worlds in my head, it can feel a little bit scary to send those stories out into the great abyss when I’m done. However, the readers of lesbian fiction have made that part of the process so much easier for me with their e-mails, tweets, and Facebook messages. Thank you so much for reading, for spending a few hours of your life with me, but also for stepping out from behind the book and reaching back.
For my sisters
There’s just something about chocolate.
It’s enough to cause a person to abandon the rest of the world in favor of complete immersion in the power of its taste. Few things in life compare. Molly O’Brien knew this as clearly as she knew the sun was going to rise the next day. It was an inarguable fact of life.
She concentrated, biting her bottom lip, as she folded the ribbons of dark chocolate in the pan once, twice, and a final time before sampling her work with her index finger. She closed her eyes in surrender. Perfection. Next, she checked the thermometer in the pan. An even ninety-one degrees.
Showtime.
One by one, she bathed each truffle in the dark chocolate coating before rolling it in the cocoa powder that would offer a nice contrast to the amaretto in the truffle. Finally, she placed the last truffle on the wire rack with a slight twist of her wrist. She set the timer and took her spot on top of the stepladder nestled in the kitchen’s corner and waited in anticipation for the required twelve minutes to creep by.
She felt good about things this time. She’d used a tad too much heavy cream in the ganache on the last go-round, and the hint of coconut she’d added this time might be the missing link to bridge the flavors.
The kitchen was quiet while she waited, the morning just getting started. Distantly, she heard the bell in the front of the shop, but ignored it. She checked the clock again. It was time. Biting slowly into a truffle, she closed her eyes and allowed the flavors to play in her mouth as she assessed. It was closer this time. She was on to something, but the recipe wasn’t quite there yet. Damn it. Just a hint too sweet. It lacked balance.
The bell. A second time.
Where was Louise? With an exaggerated sigh, she abandoned her project and made her way from the kitchen to the front of the bakeshop.
Mr. Jeffries, one of the regulars, scowled deeply at her. “Well, it sure took you long enough.” It was nothing new. Sort of his thing. He harassed her daily and she smiled through it. The man was pushing eighty-five and pretended to hate the world. The problem was he didn’t and everyone knew it.
“Good morning, Mr. Jeffries. Sorry about the wait. Just taking care of a few things in the back. Your usual?”
Mr. Jeffries eyed the display case suspiciously. “What are those?”
She followed his gaze. “Caramel apple cinnamon rolls. Made with cream cheese frosting. My father’s recipe.”
He studied her skeptically. It was rare for him to deviate from his standard blueberry muffin. He was a staunch creature of habit. “Are they fresh?”
“Made this very morning.”
