Kissing Navy - Plump Playwright #5 - Sample - ON SALE NOW!

Chapter One

In romance, the first kiss had to hit all the feels: his gentle touch, the intensity in his eyes, his shuddering breath. Missing the mark messed up the novel for Navy which was why she was stumped. Flipping open her industrial oven, she grabbed the tray and yelped.

"Gloves!" Cursing herself for her lack of focus, she held her burned fingers under the cool water, sighing when the sting lessened. As the only baker in small-town Deadmouth, burning herself was an occupational hazard.

"Navy," she grumbled, sliding on the oven mitts before pulling out the last batch of vanilla, rose-flavored cupcakes.

The Ladies Forum was holding its biweekly meeting. If she didn't hurry, twelve women would starve to death. Hence why she was asked to bake three dozen cupcakes. While the last batch cooled, she mixed icing sugar in a variety of flavors: salted caramel, orange chocolate, coconut and pineapple, tasting each one until sweetness clenched her cheeks.

Despite her well-rounded curves, she didn't like sweet things. Sure, chocolate had its place, but a plate of fries, buttered popcorn, or a cheeseburger were far more enticing than cheesecake.

Wiping her hands on her apron, she dripped food coloring into the bowls of readymade icing sugar: pink, orange, yellow, and blue. After mixing them individually, she scooped each one into its own piping bag and decorated the cupcakes with flicks of her wrist.

She stacked them into bakery crates, and with one last glance at the massive clock above the stove, she tore off her apron and hairnet, yanked on her jacket, and grabbed her snow machine's keys. She loaded the crates onto the back of the machine in quick trips to the garage. Then with a scarf strangling her and a beanie squashing her curls, she hoofed it to the town hall.

The quickest route was between houses and not along the gravel-lined roads. And since her bakery was undergoing renovations, her massive ovens were in her home. Commuting was easier along with locking up after a long day. Now she was home, could take a nap while her goodies baked. When the bakery reno was done, she would have a coffee shop too. She huffed a cloud of smoke through her scarf. Orders had upped, counteracting the drop in walk-ins. Folks still needed their morning croissant.

"Ah, bacon, cheese..." she hummed, sliding the machine over the dips and skidding to a halt amid a cloud of white powder. "Coffee."

Someone had salted the steps and a little of the walkway. She stumbled a bit then sprinted inside the hall.

"Ah, there you are, Navy." Ms. Elise Beeman grinned, hurrying ahead of Navy to ensure there was enough space on the groaning table for the "delectables."

"Are you staying for tea?" Mrs. Anna Fitzpatrick waddled closer, but when she reached for a caramel cupcake, Ms. Beeman smacked her hand.

Navy smothered a chuckle behind a cough at Mrs. Fitzpatrick's disgruntled expression. "I wish I could, Ms. B. I've got to get started on Mason's spiderman cake." Which was an outright lie. That she had finished first thing this morning, but spending hours listening to the same gossip wasn't Navy's cup of tea, so to speak.

Mrs. Fitzpatrick, as the school nurse, sucked in a shaky breath and raised a gnarled finger, about to regale Navy on Mason's crazy antics. "Oh, dear, that boy—"

"—is turning ten," Ms. Beeman hurried to say. As the school's principal, she arched a pointed brow at Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "He'll grow up to be such a charmer."

"Loser," Mrs. Fitzpatrick coughed and met Ms. B's glare with an innocent flutter of her eyelashes.

"Since you and the Landons have been friends since kindergarten, will you be attending that party?" Ms. Beeman tidied the cups by spinning them so that the handles pointed in the same direction.