Author: Cheryl Yeko
Publisher: Soul Mate Publishing
Length: 206 pages
The battered survivor of an abusive marriage, Angela doesn't mourn her husband’s death in a drug deal gone bad. But she’s not sure she can survive losing her heart to the handsome detective who assumes she’s a criminal, too.Tasked with Angela’s safety after she’s targeted by an unknown enemy, Jake discovers the beautiful widow is not what she seems. He soon realizes that trusting her goes hand-in-hand with desiring her, and passion and duty collide.Now it’s up to Jake to keep Angela—and their chance at happiness—alive.
The kitchen scene I blogged on my site, and the recipe for Pear-Hazelnut Tarts -- the link to the recipe can be found on my website.
What am I doing? Angela raced to the refrigerator and opened the door to test the firmness of the dough, taking time to clear her mind from the sensual daze induced by Jake’s kisses.
Heat scorched her cheeks. If the timer hadn’t gone off, would she have let him take her right there on the table? She sprinkled flour onto the counter and placed the dough on it, forming it into a square.
“Can I help?” Jake’s husky voice drifted over her sensitive nerves as he came up behind her and heat radiated from him as he positioned himself at her back.
She pushed hair from her face and reached for the rolling pin, not looking at him. She felt like a gazelle being stalked by a lion.
“No, I’ve got it, thanks.” She rolled the dough into a rectangle, before folding the short ends over the middle to make three layers. Turning the dough a quarter turn she rolled it away from her into another large rectangle.
“That looks complicated.” Jake placed an arm at each side of her, then gripped the counter and peered over her shoulder. Effectively caging her in, his warm, minty, breath feathered across her face. “Explain to me what you’re doing. I might like to make it for my son sometime.”
Her hands trembled when she folded the short ends over the middle again to make another three layers. Normally, she’d place the dough back in the refrigerator at this point for another twenty minutes, but if she worked fast enough she could skip that step. And she wanted to get this done as soon as possible and put some space between her and Jake. Afraid she would throw herself back into his arms.
She glanced over her shoulder and met his heated gaze. His eyes smoldered with banked lust. “Seriously?”
He nodded, watching her with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
She took another shaky breath and glanced back down. “Okay. It—it’s a simple recipe really. I’m making dough for Pear-Hazelnut Tarts. I’ll write it down for you.”
“That’d be great.” His body pressed up against her.
Angela gulped. “Well—well, first you prepare the dough, then you need to wrap it in plastic wrap andrefrigerate for about half an hour.”
“Uh huh.” He leaned in and nuzzled her ear. “Refrigerate the dough. Got it.”
Her mind went into lockdown. Nothing but silence and sexual tension filled the room.
“I’m listening,” Jake brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Flour,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.
“Oh.” Her body was wound tight and desire pooled in her belly, and her breasts felt heavy and aching with the need to be touched. A tremor ran through her.
She gave the dough another turn and again folded the ends over. “After you remove the dough from the refrigerator, you need to roll it flat, and shape it into a large rectangle, then fold the short ends over the middle so that it makes three layers.” She demonstrated it for him, although she didn’t really think he was paying attention.
“Right. Three layers,” he repeated. One hand slid to her stomach, tugging her closer.
Angela’s pulse raced. “Umm. Repeat this four times,” she managed to say. “The dough needs to remain firm, if not . . . if not, put it back in the refrigerator for another fifteen minutes before continuing.”
“Mmm, sounds like a lot of work.”
She gave her shoulders a little shrug to loosen his arms from around her. “Some space here, please,” she said, breathlessly.
Jake tore his mouth from hers. His gaze scorched her with their heat, molten hot. “You drive me wild.”
He unfastened the first three buttons of her shirt and slowly slid the fabric from her shoulders and down her arms, until it pooled at her waist. A shiver of anticipation rolled through her, tightening her nipples. She licked her lips and stared into his darkened gaze.
His eyes flamed with desire. He leaned down and kissed the tops of her breasts. First one, then the other, then sucked a sensitive nipple into his mouth, sending a shockwave of pleasure to the apex of her thighs.
“Jake,” she purred.
He lifted his head and their eyes locked. “I love the way you say my name.” His hand slid to the inside of her legs and caressed a path of fire to the part of her that wept for him.
“Say it for me, Angel,” he whispered.
About The Author:
Cheryl Yeko lives in Wisconsin with her husband Patrick. She loves to read, write, play piano and spend time with her grandchildren.
Although she has spent most of her professional life as a legal assistant, she can also include realtor, small business owner, and virtual assistant/mobile notary to her varied background. She is also a member of Romance Writers of America as well as the Wisconsin Chapter.
Cheryl is thrilled to be able to add author to her resume and would love to hear comments from readers.
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