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Quote by Daria Lavelle

“Some salt gets mined out of the ground, every crystal perfect, its flavor so predictable it graces every kitchen. But other salt comes out of marshes, gets harvested by hand, tastes like the journey it took to find you, including the wrong turns. I love you more because of where I've been, and I'd stay Hungry forever if it would make you believe that loving you was never about not feeling empty. It was about the chance to feel this full.”

Quote by Daria Lavelle

Book:Aftertaste
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Aftertaste

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Daria Lavelle

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“You know what? You're kind of growing on me too." "Like mold?" I ask. "No, you smell too good," he says, turning his back to me. "I know your kitchen is well equipped. I hope you have a rice steamer." "Duh," I say, mentally kicking myself for my unprofessional response. "Of course I do." I walk over to the cabinet and step up onto my toes, but I can't reach the damn contraption. Charles steps up behind me, reaches over my head, and grabs it before it tumbles on my head. For two brief seconds, his body presses into mine, his hands steadying my waist. I swear he's breathing me in. And I'm doing the same. He grabs the steamer, sets it on the counter. But he only shifts slightly, and there's clearly something wrong with my legs; they won't budge. I think I may be paralyzed. "Did my mother make you the perfume you're wearing?" he asks, his breath on my neck. "Uh, yeah, she did." "The base notes smell delicious on you," he says, his voice husky and hot. My spine tingles. A drop of perspiration beads on my forehead. I clamp my lips together before I tell him he smells delicious too and that he's invaded my thoughts ever since I first met him on the street.”

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Book:The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique
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“One of his hands run up my neck and through my hair, the other supporting my waist. I'm held up by a dizzying suspension, feeling like I could sprout wings and fly. Time stands still and the only thing I can think about is the taste of his mouth, his tongue, spicy and sweet from the saffron, and how I hunger for more. His hand cups my ass, and he leans into me, kissing my neck. My hips grind into him. This kiss, this moment, really proves I'd never experienced passion like this before. It's more than a connection between bodies; it's like a recipe with the perfect balance of ingredients.”

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Book:The Spice Master at Bistro Exotique
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“Maura was so still he could barely hear her breathe. He spooned whipped cream into her mouth, a cherry varenyk, another sprinkle of salt. He watched the flavors marry as she chewed, saw that smile, spread across her face. He wanted to kiss her, to taste what she tasted. "There it is," she whispered. Fleur de sel," he said, holding up the little jar. "Flowers of salt." She opened her eyes. "That's beautiful." "You're beautiful. It's just salt." He felt his face burn as soon as he said it. He wasn't good at this part. "And I, apparently, am mostly cheese." "I like cheese.”

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Book:Aftertaste
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“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.”

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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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Book:Knives, Seasoning, & A Dash of Love
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