Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
The lights went out and my heroes walked in.
It would take a miracle to save my shop.
Good thing I’ve got three.
One thing the three brothers have in common—I can’t get them off my mind.
A crush on one guy is fine, but all three?
Noah kissed me at lunch. Leo makes me crazy. Ethan took me out for champagne.
They say they’re not jealous, that this could work.
It seems scandalous, and too delicious to refuse.
Noah’s got a stalker. His ex won’t leave him alone.
What she doesn’t know is this,
The Foster men are mine, and I don’t give up without a fight.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1
MADISON
“Better make it three,” the customer said as she eyed the fresh pumpkin-caramel muffins.
“Good choice. I can’t resist them either,” I told her, putting another muffin in the bag for her. They were definitely a big hit.
“Yesterday you were sold out,” she said, “So I made sure to come in earlier today.”
“I’m glad you did. Good luck on your presentation today,” I said.
“I can’t believe you remembered that!” she smiled, “Thanks! These muffins are better than confidence. I’m promising myself one as soon as it’s over.”
“Seems like a solid plan,” I said. I turned to my assistant who handed me the latte to go. “Here you go.”
“Thanks!” She said and dropped a five in the tip jar.
The large tip made me all giddy inside. This was the kind of shop I wanted to build, the atmosphere I wanted to cultivate. A warm neighborhood coffee place and shop where the regulars know each other, and everybody has an honest opinion when I try out a new recipe. I’d dreamed this place into life and saved for years to make it happen. And after all this time, I still find joy in to waking up bright and early in the morning to keep the shop smoothly running.
The chime on the door jingled to announce another little crowd of five or six people who blew in on the brisk October wind, lured by the cinnamon and clove scent of my muffins on a chilly morning. Jacie rang up the orders while Ryan and I made coffee and served muffins and rolls as fast as we could. I bumped the under-cabinet fridge closed with my hip after taking out another can of whipped cream to top a coffee drink.
“When does the gingerbread happen?” A teenager asked me across the glass case. “You said this fall you’d do gingerbread.”
“That’s right,” I said, grinning. “I’ll do a gingersnap crust pumpkin bar in a couple weeks when I phase out the caramel apple ones. The real gingerbread will be the first of November.”
“Is there a gingerbread latte?” he asked.
“There could be if a customer wanted to try one,” I teased. “I’ll try out a couple combinations and you can sample them tomorrow.”
“That sounds amazing! It might even get me through my algebra test.”
“What day’s that?”
“Friday.”
“Okay, I’ll put that on my calendar and there will be a gingerbread latte just for you.”
“You’re awesome!”
“Just don’t ask me about algebra!” I laughed. “I was terrible at it.”
Jacie elbowed me as he left, “He’s so cute.”
“You like him?” I asked.
“Maybe,” she said, chewing her lip. Jacie was my youngest hire, a reliable cashier and part-time art student who was always breaking up with someone dramatically.
“He’s still in high school.”
“I only graduated last year,” she reminded me.
“Yeah, but when does he graduate?”
“Good point,” she agreed. “I’ll have to see if he’s a senior, otherwise, it’s a no-go.”
“Gonna help him study for his test?”
I went to the back to check on Brice, my newest employee. He had attention problems particularly because he kept pulling out his phone and getting on whatever mobile game was the most popular at the time when he was supposed to be feeding pans into the oven and loading the dishwasher.
I found him hastily tucking away his phone and straightening his apron. I reached past him to load the cooled apple-walnut muffins onto a tray.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Save the phone for a break please. I can’t afford to run out of stuff to sell. Did you check the list?” I prompted.
I referred to the laminated checklist I hung up for him. When he didn’t know what to do, he was supposed to look at the list and check those things—did the dishwasher need to be emptied or filled? Were there muffins in the oven that needed to come out and cool? Was there any cake mixes to ladle into pans and put in the oven?
Proudly, he indicated the dishwasher which was chugging along and the counter he had wiped off. “Great, thank you!” I told him. “Will you grab coffee filters from the closet?” He scurried off to get them.
“Hey, Madison?” Ryan said, a note of uncertainty in his voice.
“Something wrong?”