How Sweet It Is Read online

  Table of Contents

  Synopsis

  By the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  What Reviewers Say About Melissa Brayden’s Work

  Other Melissa Brayden Titles Available via Amazon

  Books Available from Bold Strokes Books

  Synopsis

  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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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

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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])

  By the Author

  Waiting in the Wings

  Heart Block

  How Sweet It Is

  Acknowledgments

  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.

  Dedication

  For my sisters

  Chapter One

  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 car
e 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.”

  He rolled his eyes as if he couldn’t stand another minute of her. It was part of his charm. “I’ll take two and a cup of joe. Regular, not decaf .” He scowled deeper. “Don’t you think you should write it down, for heaven’s sake?”

  She grinned patiently. “Two cinnamon rolls and a cup of coffee. I think I got it.”

  “Good thing you can bake or you people would run this place into the ground. Your father never used to keep his customers waiting. Where’s Louise?” He scanned the area behind the counter for any glimpse.

  “Around here somewhere, I hope.” Louise, her elderly employee, was MIA but happened to be the one person Mr. Jeffries seemed to tolerate. Which meant he was hot for her.

  Molly prepared his order as she did every morning, and as he headed off to his regular table by the window, she turned to her next customers, a young couple smiling brightly, a toddler at their sides. In fact, one of the most adorable toddlers she’d ever seen. “Morning, guys. Welcome to Flour Child. What can I get for you?”

  “Well, you’ve already sold us on the cinnamon rolls, I think,” the man said. “And an orange raspberry muffin too. The lady at the inn said we have to try those.”

  Molly nodded knowingly as she rang them up. “That’s Alice. She’s a fan.”

  The wife smiled. “She insisted we stop by. Said you had pastries sent by God himself. The best in Illinois.”

  “Well, Alice leans toward hyperbole, but they are pretty good. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

  “Are you the owner?”

  Molly nodded. “I am.”

  “It’s such a cute little place. So much character.”

  Molly looked around, taking in the bakeshop through new eyes. Checkered tablecloths, lots of framed art, photos from over the years. “Thanks. My father opened the place not long after I was born.” She pointed to Flour Child’s logo on the wall affectionately, zeroing in on the little girl with the halo of flowers in her hair. “And that’s me. My dad’s retired now, but he’s left us all his great recipes, and hopefully, I’ve added a few decent new ones.” She handed them their plates. “Enjoy and come back and see us.”

  “We definitely will.” The family picked out one of the five tables in the shop and sat down to enjoy their breakfast. As she wiped down the counters, Molly’s gaze drifted back to the couple and she watched as they fed the toddler, encouraging her to taste the cinnamon roll and laughing when she grinned back at them in lip-smacking approval. She couldn’t help but wonder if that’s how she and Cassie would have laughed with their own child, if they’d had one. With so much warmth and adoration. She’d like to think so.

  She shook herself out of it.

  Cassie’s commuter plane had gone down four years ago.

  Actually, four years, two months, and a handful of days, but somehow it didn’t seem that way. It felt like yesterday that Cassie was teasing her or whispering sweetly in her ear each morning.

  It was easier now, thinking about Cassie. But it was moments like these that Molly wondered if she’d ever get a chance at a family of her own someday. She wanted that. Kids, someone to share it all with, the whole deal. And other than the debut of her first two gray hairs, the ones she’d hastily plucked from her head that morning, it seemed she was still capable of having them.

  She sat on the stool.

  Time was marching on, and sometimes she felt like it was marching on without her. Thirty-two years old was still young…kinda. She wandered back into the kitchen and did what she always did when something was on her mind. “What do you think, Cassandra? Is it time for me to get back on the horse?”

  Silence. As there always was when she talked to Cassie.

  But there were times when she felt Cassie’s presence in her life; she was sure of it. The number eight had a way of showing up a lot, and she suspected strongly that Cassie had something to do with it. It had been her favorite number if for nothing else than the Magic Eight Ball she consulted for all important life decisions.

  “Sorry I’m late.” Eden Young rushed into the kitchen and began putting on her apron, pulling Molly abruptly from her thoughts. “Bless her heart; my next-door neighbor didn’t know how to program her cable box. One sandwich short of a picnic, that one. I had to step in and help out and…” She paused and shot Molly a curious glance. “What is it, sugar? You look like you just solved the mystery of life for all of us.”

  “Eden.” Molly turned to her best friend and employee thoughtfully. “I think I might be ready to start dating again.”

  Eden’s eyes widened in supreme delight and she shook Molly’s hands eagerly. “Well, hallelujah. It’s like a hug from little baby Jesus in here.” Eden’s Southern sass was out in full force today. “What, may I ask, brought this on?”

  “I don’t know. There was the cutest little family in the shop earlier, and I watched them and thought, yeah, I want that. And I do. I think I’m ready to take that step.”

  Eden clapped her hands once. “Well, who’s it going to be? Who’s the lucky girl you’ve got your eye on?”

  Molly was at a loss. She didn’t have her eye on anybody. In all honesty, Cassie had been the only woman she’d ever been with, and they’d been a couple since high school. The concept of dating at all was a little foreign to her.

  Then there was the little matter of living in a small town.

  The lesbian-to-Molly-ratio was crazy small. There was Celia the librarian, but she was at least twenty years older. Savanna and Trish were both great, but, well, they were a couple already. That left Summer Siller, who she’d gone to high school with. Summer had never quite forgiven her for taking Cassie off the market and still seemed to have it out for Molly to this day. Summer was definitely not a prospect. In fact, Summer should be avoided at all costs. Summer was lesbian Satan. “I think I’m going to have to broaden my horizons. Maybe look beyond the borders of Applewood.”

  Eden did a little hop. “Sugar, I know just the person to call. My friend Paulene lives two towns over and knows absolutely anyone who is worth knowing. I’ll put a call in to her, and we’ll have more lesbians than you can shake a stick at lining up for you.”

  Molly’s face went hot and she felt all sorts of reluctance. “You know what? This whole thing sounds a little too crazy. Bad idea. Are we sure I should be doing this? I think we should rewind.”

  “Don’t you dare back out now. This is progress.” Eden took a step forward, her eyes steely in almost scary determination. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you to utter those adorably tentative words you said earlier? Since God was a baby, that’s how long. Now stand up straight and be strong.”

  Molly stood tall for no other reason than because Eden said to and she was a little frightening in this moment. “Strong. Got it. Working on it. A little.” Seriously, who was she kidding?

  “Sorry I disappeared on you, Mollydolly.” Louise puttered in carrying a brown paper sack. Saved by the bell! Or the little old lady who worked for her. “The used bookstore next door was having a sale, and I scurried in to pick up some of their old recipe books. I knew you wouldn’t miss me.”

  “What, had to beat the crazy crowd?” Eden deadpanned because there wouldn’t have been one.

  “I had to beat old Mrs. Bleakerson is what I had to do. She’s getting on in years, but she’s aggressive when it comes to her marinades. I’m stronger though.” Molly smiled because Mrs. Bleakerson was sixty-one and still nine years younger than Louise herself.

  Switching gears, Molly turned to Eden. “Do you think you can close for me?
It’s Wednesday, so I need to stop by the cemetery and still have time to freshen up before my dinner at Gibson’s tonight. You know, try to look presentable. Lose the flour glaze.”

  “I suppose you could twist my arm if you threw in a few of those truffles on the house.”

  Molly followed her gaze to the latest batch. “Help yourself. You always do anyway.”

  “This is a fact. So Gibson’s, huh? What’s the occasion?”

  “Cassie’s little sister, Jordan, is coming home for a bit. It’s kind of a major deal. She hasn’t been back since, well…the funeral.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. It’ll be nice for Amalia and Joseph to get to spend some time with her.” In actuality, Molly knew it was that and more. Her mother- and father-in-law would pull out all the stops to celebrate Jordan’s homecoming. They’d already closed down the clinic for the day, rented out Gibson’s restaurant that night, and were hosting the immediate family—which still included her—for a celebratory dinner in Jordan’s honor.

  Jordan Tuscana.

  While part of Molly wanted to smack Jordan on the back of the head for staying away for so long, the other part of her was genuinely excited to see her again.

  “So what do we know about the mysterious younger Tuscana?” Eden nibbled on a truffle. “These are amazing, Mol.”