The Accidental Baker

By Clare London

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• Language: English
• Publisher: Clare London
• Release date: Aug 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781005357160

Clare London

Clare took the pen name London from the city where she lives, loves, and writes. A lone, brave female in a frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home, she juggles her writing with the weekly wash, waiting for the far distant day when she can afford to give up her day job as an accountant. She’s written in many genres and across many settings, with novels and short stories published both online and in print. She says she likes variety in her writing while friends say she’s just fickle, but as long as both theories spawn good fiction, she’s happy. Most of her work features male/male romance and drama with a healthy serving of physical passion, as she enjoys both reading and writing about strong, sympathetic and sexy characters.Clare currently has several novels sulking at that tricky chapter 3 stage and plenty of other projects in mind . . . she just has to find out where she left them in that frenetic, testosterone-fuelled family home.All the details and free fiction are available at her website. Visit her today and say hello!Join up for her newsletter at http://bit.ly/2WpHlyK and receive a free short story!Clare also writes as Stella Shaw and launched her Love at the Haven series of rent boy romances in 2021.Website + blog: http://www.clarelondon.com / stellashawauthor.comFacebook: https://www.facebook.com/clarelondonTwitter: https://twitter.com/clare_londonGoodreads: http://bit.ly/2lNSfC2Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/author/clarelondonBookbub: https://www.bookbub.com/profile/clare-londonInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/clarelondon11/Quids&Quills: http://www.quidsandquills.com (accountancy for UK authors)

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THE ACCCIDENTAL BAKER

Copyright ©2019 Clare London

Smashwords edition

Published by Jocular Press

All Rights Reserved

This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. This book cannot be copied in any format, sold, or otherwise transferred from your computer to another through upload to a file sharing peer to peer program, for free or for a fee. Such action is illegal and in violation of Copyright Law.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

Blurb and Dedication

Donnie Watson's baking disasters are legendary, but this Easter, his mismatched chocolate eggs bring accidental but astonishing results to four downhearted gay men. The chocolate sweets spill onto the pavement of a small parade of local shops—and go on a matchmaking tour like no other! From a bankrupt and betrayed baker, to a homeless but hopeful man, to a conceited bar owner in need of a reality check, and finally to the hapless but caring Donnie himself.

After all, Love means you can have chocolate too!

As always, all my thanks to my office mate Sue for unflagging support and our mutual motivational chats!

INDEX

CHAPTER 1: Donnie

CHAPTER 2: Simon

CHAPTER 3: Jez

CHAPTER 4: Henry

CHAPTER 5: Donnie

More by Clare London

About Clare London

CHAPTER 1: DONNIE

Donnie Watson loved to bake.

That didn’t mean he could do it properly, or well. Or without disaster, personal and menu-wise. But enthusiasm was better than nothing, right?

This Easter Saturday morning, he pulled the baking tray out of the oven with seconds to spare—some of the edges of his signature cheese scones were already blackening—then remembered he didn’t have gloves on, bit back an imaginative curse, and tumbled the tray onto the counter with a loud clatter.

A small column of steam from one of the scones sizzled for three more seconds, then fizzled out. Another scone made a strange squeal, like a small stuck pig in pastry, and seemed to fold in on itself.

Self defence, methinks. Beside Donnie, perched on a kitchen stool and ostensibly checking email on his phone, Henry muttered barely under his breath.

Not another word, Donnie warned his friend. You wanted to sit somewhere quiet for a while. I wanted to bake for a while. So, none of your snide comments while we both get on with things.

Sweetheart. I just admire your tenacity. It’s not like this is your first batch, is it? Henry’s eyebrows quirked. I’ve sat through three this morning already.

The kids at the play group really like the savoury ones. I have to get them just right.

What time’s the Easter Egg hunt? Two o’clock? I don’t think there’s enough time in the twenty-four-hour clock to achieve that, dear.

Henry’s mouth had that pursed look again. He often had that when he was with Donnie. Donnie would really appreciate a more supportive attitude from his friend today, but Henry had been there for him for many years, through diasters baking and non-baking, and they had an inderstanding by now.

It was just disheartening when Henry was so bloody dismissive.

Having a bad day? Donnie asked instead. Henry seemed to have nothing but, nowadays. He’d always been sharp-witted, but not always so cutting. The bar going through a bad patch?

Henry frowned, though not too harshly: he often told Donnie they had to start avoiding wrinkles as early as their twenties. Everything’s fine, It’s a difficult time for all retail businesses.

Donnie kept silent, partly because he knew from Henry’s staff, who were also his friends, that business was most definitely difficult for Henry’s modest pub-cum-cocktail bar in the shopping parade. And partly because he knew Henry wouldn’t admit to any failings, not even to Donnie. It was the way their friendship operated. Donnie didn’t like to see Henry miserable—and no question that he was, and that was why he was such a crotchety old bugger nowadays—but if he wouldn’t let friends help, there wasn’t much more Donnie could do. Except turn the other cheek.

I was just saying, Henry continued, while Donny fervently wished he wouldn’t. I hope those kids appreciate all the food you’re providing. For free. His nose wrinkled as another scone split apart slowly and breathily into four pieces. Not that you could charge for it.

Donnie stuck out his tongue, turned to the fridge and pulled out the other tray.

Ah, now. That’s something different. And what are those? Henry shifted on the stool, putting down his phone, suddenly more interested. Pavlov’s dogs must have reacted in a similar, instinctive way.

They’re chocolate Easter eggs. Donnie paused, because he wasn’t sure that was actually an accurate