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Quote by Judith Fertig

“When I lived in New York and went to Chinatown, I learned that these flavors and their meanings were actually a foundation of ancient Chinese medicine. Salty translated to fear and the frantic energy that tries to compensate for or hide it. Sweet was the first flavor we recognized from our mother's milk, and to which we turned when we were worried and unsure or depressed. Sour usually meant anger and frustration. Bitter signified matters of the heart, from simply feeling unloved to the almost overwhelming loss of a great love. Most spices, along with coffee and chocolate, had some bitterness in their flavor profile. Even sugar, when it cooked too long, turned bitter. But to me, spice was for grief, because it lingered longest.”

Quote by Judith Fertig

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The Cake Therapist

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Judith Fertig

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“Opening the freezer, Easy smiled. God bless the Rixeys’ ice-cream addiction. There were so many containers, it seemed entirely plausible that they’d robbed an ice-cream delivery truck. He sorted through the tubs until he found a container of chocolate. Bingo. Next, he grabbed the milk from the fridge. And then he opened a bunch of cabinets until he found a blender at the back of one of them. The layer of dust on its surfaces told of how long it had gone unused. He rinsed and wiped it off, then brought the detachable pitcher to the other counter, where the ice cream lay waiting. Shane’s expression was two seconds away from amused. “Not a word, McCallan.” He held up his hands and shook his head, but he couldn’t hold back the smile. Fucker. Scoop, scoop, scoop, milk. Lid on, Easy placed the container on the blender and hit mix. Two minutes later, he had something approximating a very thick milk shake. He spooned it into a glass, then gathered the bagel and soup. Next he built his sandwich, sneaking pieces of beef and cheese as he worked. “Damn, that looks good,” Shane said, pushing off the stool and grabbing a plate for himself. “Think I’ll make some food for me and Sara, too.” Easy suddenly felt less self-conscious with Shane making food for his woman, too. Whoa. He froze with a piece of rye bread in his hand. Jenna was not his woman. But maybe she could be. Slapping the bread on top of the lettuce, Easy’s thoughts spun—he came up with lots of reasons why it probably wasn’t a good idea, but that didn’t make him want it any less. Mid-sandwich-making, Shane spoke in low, even tones. “We don’t have to do that thing where I tell you to handle Jenna with care if you’re thinking of starting something with her, do we?” For. Fuck. Sake. Not that Easy was particularly surprised by the question. Hadn’t he been half expecting it? And, his brain noted with interest, it wasn’t a warning off. “Nope.” “I didn’t think so,” Shane said in that same casual, even tone. “I see how protective you are of her, Easy, and I’m glad for that. I know you’ll treat her right, so I’m not saying a thing about it, except handle with care.” Nodding, Easy concentrated on making the floor stand still under his feet. “I like her, Shane,” he finally said, echoing the conversation he and Shane had had a few nights ago about Shane’s growing feelings for Sara. And, well, hi, how ya doin’, Mr. Hypocrite, Easy had told Shane he had to come clean with the team. Despite the fact that Easy hadn’t done so himself. Still. “Yeah,” Shane said, clapping him on the back of the neck and squeezing. “I know.” Wow. From the thin cabinet next to the oven Easy retrieved a baking sheet to use as a tray. Improvisation he could do. He loaded it down with everything he thought they’d need, lifted it into his arms and then he was all about getting back to Jenna.”

“Beschwipst, betrunken ... ein Gentleman würde die Situation jedenfalls nicht ausnutzen." "Du hast Glück." Er strich mit den Fingerknöcheln über meinen Bauch, und sein Blick folgte seinen Finger, wie sie am Bündchen meiner Unterwäsche entlangfuhren. Sein Gesicht verschleierte sich vor Lust. "Wir wissen ja beide, dass ich kein Gentleman bin.”

“COSMIC DANCER" "I was dancing when I was twelve I was dancing when I was aaah I danced myself right out the womb Is it strange to dance so soon I danced myself right out the womb I was dancing when I was eight Is it strange to dance so late I danced myself into the tomb Is it strange to dance so soon I danced myself into the tomb Is it wrong to understand The fear that dwells inside a man What's it like to be a loon I liken it to a balloon I danced myself out of the womb Is it strange to dance to soon I danced myself into the tomb But then again once more I danced myself out of the womb Is it strange to dance so soon I danced myself out of the womb.”

“Sie kannst du vielleicht täuschen, aber mich nicht." Er sah mich von der Seite an. Offenbar hatte er meine schlechte Laune bemerkt. "Tatsächlich?", murmelte er. "Mmmhmm. Sie tuscheln alle hinter deinem Rücken, wie gefährlich du bist und wie skrupellos und aufregend. Sie kichern wie dummer Hühner. Aber ich weiß etwas, was sie nicht wissen." Jetzt wandte Cain sich vollständig zu mir um. "Und das wäre?", frage er herausfordernd. Traurigkeit ergriff mein Herz wie eine eiserne Hand. "Du wirkst gefährlich, weil du gefährlich bist. Du bewegst dich wie ein griesgrämiger Tiger, und alle anderen sind für dich bloß Beute zwischen deinen Pranken. Sie sind so sehr damit beschäftigt, dich anzuhimmeln und darüber ui reden, wie umwerfend du doch aussiehst, dass sie gar nicht merken, dass sie gleich von dir gefressen werden. Dass du sie kaust und dann ausspuckst.”