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  Baked With Love

  The Boardwalk Bakery Romance

  Tina Martin

  Copyright © 2017 Tina Martin

  BAKED WITH LOVE

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, photocopying and recording, without prior written consent of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and products are products of the writer’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events is entirely coincidental.

  Inquiries? Contact the author directly at:

  [email protected]

  Cover Designed by Tina Martin

  ~ * ~

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This is title forty-four, YES, forty-four for me! Sometimes, I have a hard time believing it, too. LOL! While it’s been a lot of hard work, it has also been an adventure because of you, my fantastic readers! I appreciate all the emails, the support on my social media sites and just the fact that you picked my book to read. Thank you for accepting my style of writing. I love you guys! A special thanks to my sister who reads every single book I write and calls me to talk about it like we’re discussing a movie – you’re awesome. Love ya, chick! Thanks to the fam who has to listen to me rant about these characters, but hey, characters are people, too! LOL.

  Y’all keep reading and I’ll keep writing.

  Much love, Tina.

  ~ * ~

  Dear Reader,

  Welcome to the sweet world of Gianna Jacobsen. Gianna runs a little boardwalk bakery and life for her is mundane and somewhat normal. Then she meets Ramsey St. Claire and her boring little world of baking cupcakes is completely turned upside down. She’s never had so much attention from a man, especially one like the incomparable, debonair Ramsey St. Claire. The man is everything. Yes, e-ve-ry-thing, and Gianna finds herself the center of his attention.

  Gianna is a little different. Well, maybe more than a little. LOL! When I was writing her dialogue, I had to sit and laugh at certain points. She’s that ditzy. But Ramsey must like ‘em a lil’ cray-cray. He’s never met a woman like Gianna. She intrigues him. That’s why after their not-so-ideal first encounter, he finds himself thinking about Gianna constantly. And he’s intent on finding out why.

  Enjoy this first part of Baked With Love. This is a three-part continuation series and perhaps the ‘sweetest’ love story you’ll read all year. I know y’all hate continuation series. I’ve heard it all before (LOL) but these three will be back-to-back and you’ll love it.

  Happy reading, cupcake!

  Tina

  ………………………..

  Welcome to The Boardwalk Bakery

  ::: Available Everyday :::

  Vanilla Cupcakes (with white frosting and sprinkles)

  Vanilla Cupcakes (with chocolate frosting and sprinkles)

  Rich Chocolate, Devil’s Food Cupcakes (with chocolate buttercream frosting)

  Butter Pecan Cupcakes (with cream cheese frosting and pecan pieces)

  Lemon (with lemon frosting)

  ::: Specialty Cupcakes :::

  (Available on varying days of the week)

  Banana Pudding

  Cookies & Cream

  Strawberry Shortcake

  Red Velvet

  Blueberry Lemon

  Snickers

  ::: Drinks :::

  Coffee (Small, Medium, Large)

  Regular and Decaffeinated

  We also cater! Call to place an order today!

  704-555-BAKE

  Visit us on Pinterest!

  ………………………..

  BAKED WITH LOVE

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Gianna removed a fresh batch of vanilla cupcakes from the oven and placed them next to the others to cool in preparation for the next step – frosting. In the meantime, she slid in another batch. Lemon this time, her tenth batch of the morning.

  “Shrew,” she said as the oven’s heat slapped her in the face. She closed the oven door and fanned flour dust away from her immediate space. It was a useless gesture. The kitchen in her bakery looked like flour-mageddon. A disaster. The equivalent of a man who couldn’t cook tearing up his wife’s kitchen. She grinned to herself thinking of how brutal men were in the kitchen – in anyone’s kitchen – but today, she was no better than a non-cooking male. Her black apron was covered with the dusty, white stuff as well as her black, no-slip, off-brand shoes. And why on earth did she buy black aprons over white ones? She couldn’t recall a specific reason. Maybe they were on sale or something. Most likely, that was the reason. With her budget, all she could afford was sale items. Whatever the case, black aprons in a bakery just didn’t make much sense. Maybe in some upscale, fancy restaurant, but definitely not a bakery. At least not her bakery.

  Gianna coughed. Fanning, again. The Boardwalk Bakery – with its pastel pink walls and ten black, tables with four chairs to each – didn’t see much action in the mornings. It wasn’t until noon that the place started jumping with customers looking to fulfill their cravings for early afternoon sugar – something to help them make it through the rest of the day on their stuffy, corporate jobs. Gianna was accustomed to the routine. It gave her time in the mornings to prepare for the midday rush, especially since the early risers who wandered through her doors only wanted coffee. Did people not eat cupcakes in the morning? Probably not since they were considered a dessert and not morning breakfast pastries. With that being the case why was she consistently opening at 9:00 a.m.? Just to sell ten cups of coffee? It was hardly worth the effort.

  Maybe I should only open in the afternoons, she considered, chewing on her bottom lip as she did so. But that still meant she’d have to come to the bakery early to prepare, so—

  When her cell phone rang, she ran to the back office – the only office in the bakery – to retrieve it, recognizing her sister Gemma’s upbeat ringtone. Gemma was the only contact in her phone with an assigned ringtone. That was one way to ensure that she’d never miss a call from Gemma.

  “Hey, Gem. I’ve been waiting for your call. How’d it go?” Gianna asked, heaving. Coughing.

  “Gianna, why do you sound like you’re out of breath?” Gemma asked.

  “Because I am out of breath. When I heard the phone, I ran to the office to get it. Plus, there’s so much flour floating around in the air, I feel like I’m trapped in a snow globe. It’s all up in my lungs,” she said, fanning.

  “Why don’t you crack open a door or something?”

  Gianna chuckled. “It’s flour, Gemma. Not smoke.”

  “Laugh now, die of flour inhalation later.”

  Gianna laughed again. “Anyway, silly, tell me how it went. Was it bad?”

  “No. Well, it’s bad that I have to get chemo, but—” Gemma blew a breath. “I just hope it works. I want to be around to bug you for a very long time.”

  “And I want you to bug me,” Gianna said with the cell phone pinched between her left ear and shoulder while she carried a tray of her best-selling butter pecan cupcakes to the front. She would put them in the display case when she got off the phone.

  Leaning against the counter with her back towards the entrance, she crossed her legs at the ankles and held the phone with her left hand again. “So, you can’t give me any more details about the procedure?”

  “No, and we don’t have to talk about cancer every time we speak, Gianna.”

  “I know. I know. I’m just concerned. That’s all. Can’t I be concerned for my whittle sister?”

  “Oh, jeez,” Gemma said. “Not the baby talk.”

  “Can’t I?” Gianna asked ag
ain, this time dropping the whittle, but still amused by it.

  “You can, but be adult-concerned. You’re all, goo-goo ga-ga, concerned. If I was there, you’d pinch my cheeks, wouldn’t you?”

  Doing her best baby talk impression, Gianna said, “I sure would pinch those chubby whittle cheeks of yours.”

  The sound of a man clearing his throat made Gianna spin around quickly to see who it was that had apparently snuck up in her shop. Snuck up on her. Her heart drummed in her chest when her eyes beheld the tall, six-foot-something of a man clad in a black suit standing there.

  “Oh my God!” she screamed, throwing her right hand over her chest like the gesture would help to soothe her pounding heart. “You scared the crap out of me!”

  With a deep, sophisticated voice, he said, “I was standing here, waiting for you to turn around. I apologize if—”

  She threw up a twitchy index finger. “Hold that thought.”

  She turned around again, back facing him and returned her attention to her phone. “Hello?” she said to make sure Gemma was still on the line.

  “I’m here. What’s wrong, Gianna?” Gemma asked. “I heard you scream.”

  “Gemma, I’ll call you later. I have to go.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Gianna glanced back at the man again, feeling her breaths quicken. Men always made her uneasy especially since she didn’t have much experience with them. Honestly, she didn’t have any experience with them. And this one in particular – sweet mercy. He looked milk chocolate, like the icing she was going to put on her Devil’s food cupcakes.

  Returning her attention to the phone again, she whispered to Gemma, “There’s a giant of a man in here and he looks hungry—no, not hungry. Hangry…a combination of hungry and angry.”

  The man frowned slightly and smirked. Did she really think she was whispering?

  “Ooh,” Gemma replied. “Is he hangry and cute?”

  “Gem, I have to go.”

  “Just answer the question, Gianna.”

  “Okay, yes. He’s cute, now I have to go.”

  “Wait, wait, wait…how tall is he?”

  “What does that matter?”

  “Ugh…just tell me.”

  Gianna turned around again, her eyes doing a full sweep of the distinguished gentleman. Then she told her sister, “Yes, he’s tall. He’s so tall, his head will touch the ceiling if he jumps.”

  The man looked up at the ceiling, cracked a half smile and shook his head. This was actually happening. What kind of bakery had he walked into?

  Gemma laughed. “He ain’t that tall, Gianna.”

  “Well, he’s tall enough to make me feel short.”

  “That’s because you are short, shorty,” Gemma quipped.

  “Okay, I gotta go, sis. This guy’s getting antsy.”

  “Alright,” Gemma said. “Talk to you later.”

  “Love ya. Bye.” Gianna slid her phone into one of the pockets on her dusty apron, looked at the gentleman and with her eyes narrowed to slits, she asked, “What the freak was that about?”

  “Excuse me?” he asked, amused.

  “You snuck up on me.”

  “I did no such thing,” he said, his voice smooth and deep. “I walked into a place of business.”

  Gianna felt a wave of heat rush through her body. The pure gorgeousness of this man had instantly given her hot flashes – those big ol’ broad shoulders on a lean body, lips that looked like they’d latch right on to anything and eyes darker than his suit. He was clean shaven. Mustache trimmed. Haircut fresh and neat. The base notes of his cologne snatched the smell of cupcakes right out of her nose.

  She got ahold of herself, somewhat, crossed her arms over chest and said, “Well, I didn’t hear the bell ding-a-ling.”

  He grinned. “You didn’t…” He laughed harder and could hardly get the rest of the question out. “You didn’t hear the bell do what?”

  “Ding-a-ling.” She cleared her throat, not that it needed to be cleared. “That’s why I…why I said you snuck up on me. Anyway, what can I get you?”

  He gazed at her for a moment about to explode with more laughter.

  Gianna frowned. Why is he smiling? What’s wrong with this guy? Ask him why he’s smiling. Ask him! No, don’t ask him. Don’t…

  “Why are you smiling?” she asked deciding to find out, going against her better judgment.

  His smile turned into a light chuckle.

  Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Are you laughing at me?”

  “Yes, I am and, by the way, you have something white on the tip of your nose. I’m assuming it’s flour. Well, I hope it’s flour. Here, allow me.” He reached out and wiped the substance from her nose using the back of his index finger.

  At his touch, her entire body shook – not trembled – but actually jerked and wiggled like those twenty-feet tall, inflatable air dancers in front of a car dealership. Her legs went so weak, she had to catch herself from falling by placing her hands flat on the counter. The man must’ve thought she was nuts but in her defense, she’d never been touched by a man before, innocent or otherwise. And she’d never been in the presence of this kind of man – the kind of man you can look at and instantly tell he was somebody important. The kind of man that rocked five-thousand dollar, tailored suits. The kind of man who had the boldness to wipe something off of a woman’s nose without waiting for permission to do so because he knew he could get away with it. He could get away with anything with his fine behind.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Lips,” she replied.

  He looked confused. Okay, so maybe that wasn’t flour on her nose. This woman is weird. “Come again?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said blinking profusely and shaking her head like she had to physically juggle her brain around to regain focus. “What did you ask me?”

  Amused, he released a small chuckle before he responded, “I asked you if you were okay, but never mind. You’ve pretty much answered my question already.”

  Her eyes narrowed even further when she replied, “You think I’m a fruitcake don’t you?”

  He frowned and quirked his mouth into a lopsided grin.

  “Well, I got news for you, buddy. I’m not fruitcake. I can assure you. I don’t even like fruitcake.”

  “Nobody likes fruitcake,” he said. “Why are you so nervous right now?”

  Why are you so ferociously male, taking over my little bakery with your testosterone and distinctive spellbinding scent? Hunh? Answer that, buster!

  “Hello?” he said, making a waving motion with his hand to get her attention. She had to have been the strangest woman he’d ever encountered. “Are you high right now?”

  High off of your cologne. Yep. “No, I’m not high! I am a little freaked out because you snuck up on me.”

  “I didn’t sneak up on you. Okay. This is a place of business. I came inside. Why are you so nervous?”

  “You already asked me that.”

  “And I’m still waiting for an answer.”

  “You know what,” she said, then giggled. The out of place laughter made her look even more nervous and panicky. “Let’s just cut the small talk or whatever this is. I’m sure you have somewhere important to be, so what can I get for you?”

  “I want a cupcake.”

  “What!” she screeched.

  He frowned. Okay, this confirmed it for him. Something was really wrong with this chick. “This is a specialty cupcake bakery isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then why are you yelling like I just pulled a gun out on you?” he interrupted her to ask. “I did just order a cupcake. Am I ordering incorrectly, or what? Do you have some special cupcake ordering system that I’m not privy to?”

  She glared at him. “No, but you are ordering incorrectly and you know exactly what you’re doing…playing around with words.”

  He was beside himself. “Look, lady, I simply said I wanted to order a cupcake.”

&nbs
p; “No. You said you want my cupcake.”

  He erupted in laughter. “No. I said I want a cupcake.”

  Gianna crossed her arms again, staring at the man and his beautiful white smile. “I know what I heard.”

  “And I know what I said,” he countered. “Now, can I get one of those butter pecan cupcakes, or are you holding them hostage?”

  “Okay. Fine. One butter pecan coming right up,” she said unenthused. She slid a clear, plastic serving glove on her right hand, then took one of the freshly baked butter pecan cupcakes from the tray on the counter. She never did get around to putting them in the display case.

  Glancing at him as he looked around the bakery, she asked, “Is this for here or to go?” Please say to go. Please say to go.

  He had planned on taking it to go, along with a coffee, but now that he’d been thoroughly entertained by her, he wanted to stick around for more of her antics. “For here, please.”

  Eyebrows raised, she asked, “You—you said, for here?”

  He could sense she hadn’t expected him to dine in. “Yes. For here. Do I need to dust flour out of your ears, too?”

  She smiled. “Sorry. I heard you.”

  “You’re smiling. Does that mean you’re normal?”

  “Somewhat,” she responded. “I’m just a little rattled.”

  “A little?” His lips formed into a sensuous smile. “How about a lot? You’ve been high-strung since you realized I was here.”