Frosted Sweets: A Taste of Love Series, #1

By A.M. Willard

A romantic comedy from a bestselling author where frosting will never be the same.

I'm a hopeless romantic who thought the wedding dress draped over my shoulder was going to be the start of my future... What I didn't expect was to meet Jayden in the park before witnessing my fiance with someone other than myself.

As my life seems to be fitting in with the latest gossip magazine, I'm trying to avoid the frosted feelings that are baking up in the oven for Jayden.

He's not just new to town, he's new to me and something I'm not sure I'm ready to taste.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A.M. Willard
• Release date: Aug 30, 2016
• ISBN: 9781536552683

Book preview

Chapter One

I’m standing on the podium as I admire myself in the tri-fold mirror and sway my wedding dress from side to side. When I peer up and catch the eyes of my mother behind me, I know this is the perfect gown. They say when you find the one you’ll feel like a princess, and I do. My body is covered from my chest down in the purest white satin I’ve ever seen. It’s December and two weeks away from my wedding. I went with a strapless dress that comes with a matching jacket. A string of pearls runs along the underside of my chest where the pleats gather to flow toward the floor. Since I’ll have to wear the jacket at some point, I’ve opted for the not-so-traditional veil. I’ve chosen a two-layer tulle face blusher, adorned with the same pearls as the dress. It’s just the touch of sass and romance that I need to make it mine.

I turn and smile at my mother and best friend, Francesca, better known to us as Frankie. What do you think?

You look gorgeous, and Simon isn’t going to know what hit him when you walk down that aisle, Frankie says.

Mom, do you like it?

Like? I love it, and you were right, this is the one.

I told you it would be perfect.

Yes, and it is, she says as she stands and walks toward me. My mother gathers the material around my chest to adjust the fit. Today is the last fitting. Between her and Frankie, they have me booked with appointments and things to finalize before the big day. Simon is away on business, but will return this weekend. We have plans to do a walk-thru, and confirm some last-minute things with the reception hall, flowers, and the wedding party gifts.

Mom, it fits. I like the fact that I’ll be able to breathe, I say as I push her hand away from the gown.

Okay, well are you taking it with you or do you want me to store it at the house?

I’m taking it home. Simon is gone, and we’ve agreed to not sleep over until after we’re married. I swear it’ll be safe.

Okay dear, just be careful with it at the bakery.

Yes, Mom.

Frankie, make sure she doesn’t destroy it before the big day, and you, Morgan, you need to verify that Zara has the cupcakes under control. We can’t have the bride slaving away when she needs to be rested.

I will, and don’t worry, everything will go perfectly, Frankie says.

All right, I need to head back to work. Morgan, remember to finish the seating chart and handle your list.

Stop fretting, I so have this under control, I say, smiling. I’m ready for this to be all over. Between my mother and Simon’s, they are driving me batty.

Very well, I’ll call later. Oh, Francesca, don’t forget we need to finalize the spot for the photos.

I have and will text you the location tonight, Frankie reassures my mother and gains a curt nod and smile from her in response. We smile as my mom walks out of the dressing area relieved that we can go about our day before she ticks off one more thing for us to do.

Get me out of this thing. I need to get to the bakery before Zara and Hatcher kill each other.

As we zip down the dress and I step out, the realization that I’m getting married hits. This is a day that I have planned for so long, and it’s finally happening. I’ve stalked the weather and kept an eye on how the temperatures are said to dip the night before, but as we all know in Atlanta, Georgia, this could change at a moment’s notice. One moment we will have a cold front and the next a heat wave. Hint to the reason I’m prepared for both with my dress and the bridesmaids’ dresses. Francesca is my maid of honor, while Natasha and Zara, my other best friends, will be standing next to me as I say those final vows to my soon-to-be husband. My dress was easy to find, but theirs, not so much. Since they all have unique styles, I had to be stern and make the final decision for their dresses. I went with a simple dark turquoise, strapless with a dark platinum silver shawl.

Frankie pulls me out of my thoughts. Are you done with me here? I have a shoot that I need to get ready for.

You can go, I just need to wait for them to bag the dress and then I need to head to work.

All right, protect it with your life, or else I’ll have to deal with your mother.

Consider it done. Thanks for being here today.

I wouldn’t miss it. Are we still on for finishing the party favors and stuff tonight?

Yes, as soon as the shop closes we’ll get started.

See you then, Frankie says as she gives me a quick hug and I reach for my Chucks.

I glance back toward the mirror and take myself in; it’s a total transformation from how I perceived myself a few minutes ago. The princess is gone, and here stands the owner of an up-and-coming bakery. Jeans, my pink t-shirt with our logo for The Polka Dot Café & Bakery paired with my favorite pink Chucks, and my hair back up in a flat bun. This is my standard everyday attire; this is me, the one who is simple and believes in fairy tales. Morgan Lewis is finally getting the happily ever after. Just as soon as the ring slides on Simon’s hand, we can start our life together.

Simon and I are total opposites, but don’t they always say that opposites attract? We met at a fundraiser that I was catering three years ago. The bakery had just opened, and we were packing the calendar full with benefits, free promotional nights, anything you could think of. After the event, Hatcher, my friend and accountant, was packing the van while Zara and I devoured a few leftover cupcakes. The frosting and just a smidge of the cake had entered my mouth when I let out a pleasurable moan. It wasn’t until then that I figured out someone was standing behind me. Do you always make that sound when you eat them, Simon had asked, startling me, which ended up with me spitting the rest at Zara. Since that night we have been connected at the hip, well, until recently. He just got a huge promotion at work in his father’s law firm, and it’s keeping him away on business trips along with late night meetings. It’s just one more reason why I can’t wait for this wedding to be over: the honeymoon. Just us, no one else, no work, no bakery, no law. Perfect is what I call it.

Here you go, Morgan. Now, remember to keep this hanging up so you don’t get any wrinkles. I’ve put your veil, shoes, and undergarments all in this bag for you.

Thank you, I say as I flip the garment bag over my arm and take hold of my bag filled with accessories.

A chill hits me as I step out onto the sidewalk and start the three block walk toward Centennial Olympic Park. I could walk around it to avoid the puddles from last night’s rain, but it’s prettier and a straight path to my shop. Plus, I need the time to mentally check off all the things that still need to be done. Just as I move through the people walking along the park, my phone rings, alerting me to a text message.

Zara: Hurry up before I bake Hatch!

They drive me nuts, but I couldn’t run the store as I do without them. One day they will figure it all out and stop fighting each other. I try to juggle the bags and my phone as I type out my response. Not paying attention to where I’m going, I run right into the back of someone and it sends everything crashing to the ground in a puddle of water.

Oh my God, my dress! I yell, jerking it up and shaking the water off. I hold my breath as I inspect the white bag and then finally release all the air from my lungs when I realize it has a zipped bottom. How I got so lucky that the bag is sealed and my accessories landed right-side up, I have the slightest clue.

Let me help you, the strange man says as he reaches his hand out to hold a bag.

I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention and usually people are always moving, not stopped on the sidewalk.

Sorry, I’m lost and trying to figure out where I need to be.

What are you searching for? Maybe I can help.

The Time Warner building.

Okay, well … I say as I turn around and register my surroundings. See that tall building over there? That’s where you need to go. It’s on Marietta Street.

Thanks, you sure you can handle all your bags?

I certainly can. Good luck and hope you find where you need to be, I say, pivoting to the side of him in hopes that I don’t drop anything else. I need to check the bags; internally I feel a freak-out rising and need to calm it down before I explode.

Thanks, and congrats, I hear him say behind me, and I throw a hand up with a wave.

When I approach the light at Park Avenue and glance over at the sign above my store, I smile a big old smile. This place is mine, and I have built it from the ground up making it what it is today. Just last month we were voted the best bakery in Atlanta. That is huge, as the competition here is full of great bakers. I never expected it to take off like it has, but with my signature frosting and gorgeous cupcakes, we made it happen. Initially, it started just as a small bakery, but then last year I added a little coffee-shop feel to the place. With the business commute around us, it seemed to be the right thing to do. Now the local businesses will order their bagels, sweet tarts, cakes for the company party, and other treats for luncheons. Most of the morning crowd just wants to grab a pastry and cup of coffee as they rush off to start their day. At night, we host a few poetry reads and have even hosted an acoustic guitarist once. That is all Zara’s doing with her hippie friends, but it brings in the younger local crowd, which is a win-win for us all.

The buzzer on the light post announces it’s safe to walk, and I take off toward my shop with the hopes that everyone is still alive inside. I did leave Zara and Hatcher alone, which is never a good thing to do these days.

With my hip, I push the door open and inhale the aroma of sugar, flour, and the faint hint of vanilla in the air. After a quick glance around at the customers that have taken up space at the table tops, I peer around at the walls. Pink, brown, and cream with huge polka dots along one wall, and a few pictures that Frankie took at my grand opening adorn the other side. The front is full of glass windows, our open sign, along with a static logo. The display cases are packed with our freshest products, the coffee is steaming from behind, and the sound of Hatcher banging the register grabs my attention.

Let me put this away and I’ll come help, I say as I make my way to my office in the back. Once I enter, I hang my wedding dress up on the coat rack and set the bag down on the floor next to it. I grab an old shirt and wipe the outside of the plastic off, and then inspect the contents in the bag. Everything seems to have survived the drop, and better yet, I’ll escape my mother.

We definitely don’t have time to fix my gown or order a new veil. I’ll need to pay better attention and make sure to handle it with care.

Chapter Two

The afternoon crowd picked up more than I had expected, and with five minutes left before I can turn off the open sign, I perch myself up against the counter. My planner is laid out in front of me as I bounce my pen against the filled pages. Zara is whipping up the ingredients for tomorrow’s orders, but Hatcher ditched us girls. He’s not interested in helping with the wedding. That only leaves Frankie and Natasha left to arrive. Natasha will be late since she had court today, and Francesca texted a while ago saying she just finished her shoot but will be here soon.

I head through the double doors that lead to the kitchen to see if I can offer some help. The sooner we get these batches done, the faster we can finish our list of wedding to-dos. I peek inside the bowl that’s spinning on the base of the huge industrial mixer and smile at the perfect color of chocolate. The trick is to mix and mix until the dark powder becomes a light brown color, then let it sit in the refrigerator unit overnight. This will ensure that once it softens in the morning, it’ll rise correctly and still hold the softest texture that you’ve ever put in your mouth.

Step away from that bowl, I’ll handle that one. The last thing we need is for your lips to swell up before the wedding. Remember you aren’t allowed to touch anything dark.

I know and don’t worry, I have no plans to move it. That’s why I have you, I say as I stick my tongue out at my friend.

Better not. I know how you think that one little taste won’t do anything. I’m on strict orders that you aren’t even allowed the tiniest of licks from the bowl.

You know it sucks that chocolate makes my lips swell up like they got attached to a blower. Sometimes it’s worth the pouty lips. You do realize that, don’t you?

I do, but we can’t have those huge lips taking over the wedding pictures. I mean we’ll already have Natasha’s face smacking the lens.

Be nice, and I’ve already asked her to tone down the lipstick for the big day.

You think, but how long have we known her?

Years, but have a little faith.

I don’t understand how someone who is so professional and sophisticated adores lipstick the way she does. Have you ever seen her collection?

I have. She’s even offered to let me use that one pale pink color I love so much. I make sure Zara isn’t watching me and slide my finger around the edge of the bowl. With one quick lick of the finger, I smile at the flavor hitting my taste buds.

Did you just do what I think you did?

I don’t know what you think I did, so no, I say as I back away from her and head out front to close the shop. I notice a customer opening the door, and I recognize him from the park this morning. I run my hands down the front of my apron and look back up. How may I help you?

Oh, I need to pick up an order for The A-Team. Hey, aren’t you the girl from this morning that almost knocked me over?

I am and sorry about that, I have a habit of not paying attention. Let me go in the back and grab your order.

When I approach the side table in the back, I feel the prickles in my lips notifying me that they are indeed swelling. Crap, just what I need. I know better than to do that, I repeat to myself silently.

With one deep breath, I turn my back against the doors and prepare to hand him his order. Then I notice the expression on his face and try to pull my lips between my teeth.

Everything okay? You seem to have something going on, he says, swirling his fingers around at my face.

Oh yes, I’m fine, just a little reaction to chocolate. No worries.

Umm … you sure that’s it? I mean, they’re huge, and what’s wrong with the chocolate? I’ve never been here before. Should we be worried on the ingredients?

I promise we have the freshest ingredients ever; it’s just me, I try to explain, but Zara walks out and lets out a loud yelp as she notices my lips.

Morgan, they are going to kill you! I told you to keep your fingers to yourself.

With a shrug at the guy staring at my swollen lips, I say, Allergic to chocolate.

Okay, and you work in a bakery. Smart, real smart.

The feeling of them swelling even more alarms me just a little, and I hand him his white box that has our stickered logo on top. Here you go, enjoy and do come back, I say quickly as I race off to the ladies room to examine myself in the mirror.

As I flip the light on and take a glance at myself, I’m startled. Let’s just say Angelina Jolie has nothing on these bad boys. They appear as if they have been sucked up by a hoover for a week. Zara barges in with her hands on her hips. As she begins to raise her hand to point at me, I stop her and shake my head. I know the speech well and don’t need to hear it. Instead, I drag myself to my office and rumble through my desk drawer in search of a Benadryl. I grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge behind my desk and plop down to knock the magic pill down my throat.

You have got to stop taste testing the products; I told you I’ll do that. What’s going to happen when you do this and something bad happens?

It’s been like this for years. I promise I’ll try to stop. You do know it really sucks that I can’t taste all the chocolate.

I know, and I would die a million deaths if that were me, but we need the bride alive for her wedding day.

Fine, I’ll behave until after the wedding, I say and hear a knock coming from the front of the store.

Come on, big lips, that must be the girls.

Zara’s already let them in, and I move over toward the section that has now been transformed into wedding mayhem. Place cards need to be written and are stacked next to the turquoise pen for Natasha, who has the best handwriting in the entire world. Her penmanship is to die for, which is why she gets to handwrite two hundred place cards. The test tubes for the hot cocoa mix are stacked in their protective boxes, and the ingredients are laid out on the table. Frankie designed the label to plaster on the front: Love is Brewing 12-12-15. Just add water for a Warm Cuddle. It’s been printed on white sticker backing in our wedding colors. On the other side table, next to the mess, are the boxes and boxes of sparklers, which we need to cover with the tag that reads: Let Love Sparkle – Simon & Morgan 12-12-15. After we have them labeled, they will sit in a clear vase next to the guest book. I didn’t want bubbles, bird seed, or the traditional good wishes; Simon and I have always sparked from the start, so what better way to start our marriage?

OH … MY … GOD … Your lips, Natasha yells at me.

They aren’t that bad. I just took some medicine. It’ll go down soon. As I explain this to calm Tasha down, I catch Zara and Frankie shaking their heads at me.

All I’m going to say is those lips need to be tamed. You better stay away from all sweets until after the pictures. No amount of Photoshop will cure those.

Har har har … I get it. Now let’s get to work. We need to finish these so I can get some rest.

Tasha, you start the cards while we label the test tubes, Frankie directs with a laugh. She’s found this favor to be the funniest of them all, and I love them. Little bundles of cocoa, sprinkles, and tiny marshmallows stuffed inside with a cork to close them.

"Just a thought, but big lips might need to stay away from them. Lord, I can hear her mother now if we have to take her again to get a