The Heavenly Bites Novella Collection by Christine S. Feldman
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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,
previously available only as ebooks but 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…
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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