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Quote by Samantha Verant

“His smile becomes wider, and he takes a step closer, eyes me up and down, and then he whispers in my ear, his voice low and so sexy. "What if I tell you that I think you're pretty cute when you're flustered?" Wait. Does he like me? I must be dreaming. I want to squeal, but instead, I blush and rely on humor to hide my true feelings. "I'm definitely going to have to talk to the owner about that one. We have policies in place regarding sexual harassment, you know." "We could break them." "What are you saying?" "I think you had me that first day I walked into the kitchen. I've been dreaming about seeing you in those shorts again.”

Quote by Samantha Verant

Book:The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique
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The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique

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Samantha Verant

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“We're going to cook our hearts out." He whispers. "Kate, you already have mine. Just don't serve it up on a platter." I can't bring myself to look at Charles because when I do, he smiles and all I can think about is kissing him. As we make a homemade Mexican-inspired chocolate sauce for the vanilla ice cream, our arms brush together as I hand over the urfa biber flakes. He stirs the pot, the aromas mingling together, all sweet and spicy, and now, thanks to his recording in the vent and the words I'd heard, I'm imagining us together. "Kate, taste this," says Charles, snapping me out of my fantasy. He holds out a spoon laden with sauce, I take a tiny mouthful, and then lick my lips. Charles flashes a sexy smile. "Almost better than sex, huh?" He has to be a mind reader.”

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“A few weeks past and it's the middle of July. Bistro Exotique is still as full as my heart, Charles and I now not only business partners with the restaurant but also in bed. Don't worry: one can still eat at Bistro Exotique without fear of our sexcapades, his kitchen our new playground where we re-create the bread-and-butter scene from 9 1/2 Weeks---often.”

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“Maybe there is something special about my mother's spices---" Do I tell him about all my fantasies? Nah, I'm living them now. I smile and get back to chopping up the tarragon, inhaling the sweet, grassy aroma. I let myself fall in love. I let myself float into bliss. I have my dream and it came with more happiness than I had ever imagined. "Or maybe we just have the perfect chemistry," I say. Through it all, Charles and I learned that letting go of negativity leads to happier futures (and better food and sex). As for Garrance, her work is complete; she's found happiness for Charles and me, her and my mother's plan all along. Magic? Some may say. But love is the greatest magic of all---and a required ingredient for everyone.”

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“God, you're beautiful," he said, unleashing the adjective Ronny had never used to describe me. "Ha, come on, I'm still a mess from the kitchen," I said. "I don't see anything messy. I smell dinner, and you're making me hungry," he said, moving closer. God, this was heating up quickly. "You don't smell all the garlic, onions, and fryer oil?" I said, giggling and feeling shy. "I love fried food, Maggie." He inhaled deeply, and we both laughed.”

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“Alexander may or may not have peeked out of the kitchen office to make sure Eden actually ate the rest of her Asian fusion abomination. Her delicious Asian fusion abomination. As much as it bothers him to admit, Alexander has never tasted anything so amazing before. The sauce was tangy, notes of lime coming to the forefront without being overpowering. The mini pita shells she'd used had been warmed on the skillet, offering a lovely crunchy texture to offset the softness of the Pad Thai.”

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“This time, it's some kind of dessert. Eden's always had a sweet tooth, and it shows. She moans, willingly drowning in the rich cocoa powder, icing sugar, and savoring the sourness of the raspberries baked in. "Wow, that's good," she mumbles. She helps herself to a larger spoonful and sighs. "Mm, fuck me. More of where that came from, please." She swears she sees the tips of his ears turn red. He shifts in his seat. Her breath hitches when her eyes flit down towards the growing tent in his pants. Oh?”

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“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.”

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“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.”

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