“It was like a hand had turned the volume way down on the hum of anxiety that always buzzed in my head. He was all calm competence. He knew what to do, and he'd tell me how in that dark-brown-sugar voice, and I could just be. I slowly followed his instructions. He leaned in and I got a whiff of white soap and pine forest. "Closer," he said softly. "Cut closer." He could whisper in my ear, he was that near. His scarred lower lip so close to my skin.” Scent Of A ManIntimate MomentsKitchen RomanceCalm And Quiet Book:The Slowest Burn Source: The Slowest Burn
“He dug his thumbnail into the blushing peel and pulled until the dark red fruit appeared, spraying citrus oil everywhere. As he pulled the fruit into its sections, it glowed like rubies. It made the fruit I'd bought at the supermarket for our ill-fated experiment look dry and stale in comparison. "Why do you have to show me now?" I stopped cold, because he'd grabbed my chin. His fingers were soft, insistent. "Because I want to. Open," he said. He was smiling, but there was something in his eyes I hadn't seen before. Determination? When I gaped at him, he popped the orange segment in my mouth. I bit down, and my eyes fluttered shut. Sweet-sour fireworks exploded across my tongue, and I couldn't help but moan a little bit. I tasted orange, of course, but there were raspberries and a little bit of rose petal, too. "That's incredible," I said once I'd swallowed. "Like eating a sunset." When I opened my eyes, he was staring at my mouth. I felt fireworks again, this time in my stomach. But a second later, he smiled big and said, "I was going to say a party in my mouth, but I guess that's why you're the writer.” Kitchen RomanceIntimate ActBlood OrangeGhostwriter Book:The Slowest Burn Source: The Slowest Burn
“Once my plate landed on the table, I couldn't help eating the hash like I was starving. He'd added a little sautéed garlic and parsley at the end, and the fragrance against the crispy potatoes made me hum with happiness. I was about to pick up my plate and his to wash them when he said, "I could make amazing fries if you wanted." I shook my head. "They wouldn't work for the book. People think deep-frying at home is incredibly messy, and the low-fat and low-carb lobbies finished the job." He laced his fingers behind behind his head. "That's a shame. But I didn't mean for the book." I stared at him. "You'd make fries just for me?" His cheeks went a little pink.” SeasoningsKitchen RomanceHash Browns Book:The Slowest Burn Source: The Slowest Burn