“What was the cake you had ordered?" "A hazelnut sponge with vanilla-and-mango mousse. Vanilla buttercream with a fondant overlay and flowers." Ideas flowed and pinged around my brain, kicking up that heady surge of excitement and challenge once more. This I knew. This I liked. "You're feeding what? Forty?" "Forty-five. Fifty, to be safe." "You want a traditional multitier with buttercream, then we're pushing it. Especially if you expect any sort of elaborate decoration." "The cake feels cursed at this point." Delilah's scowl made me want to smile. It was as if she was personally offended by the bad luck, which I could understand. "I could do croquembouche. That's relatively quick and a crowd-pleaser. There are endless possibilities of gâteau.” BakingDessertsBrainstormingWedding Cake Book:Make It Sweet Source: Make It Sweet
“Can you do mango cream in the croquembouche?" Mangoes must have been a thing with them, because Saint grinned. "Of course. How about two croquembouches and perhaps glace au beurre noisette to accompany?" "I think you're my hero," Delilah said with a relieved sigh. "Dessert hero," Saint corrected, but he was smiling, too, in a reserved way that reminded me too much of myself. "Thanks, man. Seriously." "It's not a problem." "What was that last bit you mentioned?" Emma asked, looking a little glazed in the eyes. The woman really did love her desserts. "Browned-butter ice cream. I'll be serving it more as a semifreddo, though, considering the time." "Lord save me." She fanned herself.” Ice CreamBakingDessertsWedding Cake Book:Make It Sweet Source: Make It Sweet
“Over the past few years, I'd been so busy with Dark Castle that I'd never truly gotten into cooking or baking shows. I reconsidered them now. Watching Lucian move about the kitchen, all firm confidence and loose-limbed grace, was pure porn for me. Heaven help me, but the way his ropy forearms moved as he briskly whipped up egg whites or heavy cream----because the man never used a blender for these things----would get me so hot and bothered I'd have to press my thighs together under the cover of the battered farm table. And when he kneaded dough? Sweet baby Jesus. He did this little grunt every time he thrust the heels of his hands over the springy mass. A deep rumbling grunt as his whole taut body rocked toward the countertop. And then there were was the pullback, when he'd breathe in, those wide shoulders of his rolling in a steady rhythm. Grunt. Thrust. Breathe. Pull. It was a wonder I didn't orgasm on the spot watching him.” BakingKinkOrgasmicDream Man Book:Make It Sweet Source: Make It Sweet