Chapters (34)
- Cover
- Welcome
- Dedication
- PROLOGUE
- CHAPTER ONE
- CHAPTER TWO
- CHAPTER THREE
- CHAPTER FOUR
- CHAPTER FIVE
- CHAPTER SIX
- CHAPTER SEVEN
- CHAPTER EIGHT
- CHAPTER NINE
- CHAPTER TEN
- CHAPTER ELEVEN
- CHAPTER TWELVE
- CHAPTER THIRTEEN
- CHAPTER FOURTEEN
- CHAPTER FIFTEEN
- CHAPTER SIXTEEN
- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
- CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
- CHAPTER NINETEEN
- CHAPTER TWENTY
- CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
- CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
- EPILOGUE
- About the Author
- Also by Kristen Ashley
- Praise for the Dream Man Series
- A Preview of "Law Man"
- CHAPTER ONE
- THE DISH
- Thank you for buying this ebook, published by Hachette Digital.
But also, I didn’t fully investigate them because already the success of my shop was cutting into the time I got to do the fun stuff. I had an accountant and outsourced payroll but that was it. All the hires, scheduling of personnel, ordering, inventory, my calendar, and the rest of it I did. The idea of adding another shop to that load, or worse, two, didn’t fill me with glee.
“I’m uncertain of my desire to be the ‘cake guru’ of Denver. I like baking and decorating. I’m not champing at the bit to build and oversee a cake empire.”
He grinned then decided he was done with our distance, which, considering my office was tiny was only two feet so the distance wasn’t that distant but still, he obviously didn’t like it. I knew this because his arms uncrossed and one shot out. He grabbed my hand, tugged on it hard so I was forced to take a big step forward, and I fell into his body. Then both his arms wrapped around me and I tilted my head back to look up at him as my arms slid around his waist.
Then he gave me no time to make a comment or react to this change of physical circumstances. He casually continued the conversation, like yanking me into his arms in the middle of one was a totally normal thing to do.
Which, I realized in that nanosecond, for Brock it was.
“So hire a business manager to oversee the shit you don’t wanna do at your different locations and spend your time baking and decorating,” he suggested.
This idea held merit but I still shook my head and explained, “Sometimes, when folks expand, things get out of hand. You lose quality. You lose personality. It starts to be about money, not about soul. I put a lot of work into what’s happening out there and my name is on these cakes.” I gave his waist a squeeze and said quietly, “To me, baby, this isn’t just cakes. It’s my vision. It’s me. And I need to control it.”
And it was my vision; it was me. I’d not that long ago finally discovered who I was and what was inside me and that didn’t only include a mountainous swirl of frosting under which was rich, moist cake. It also included robin’s egg blue and lavender and hibiscus blossoms and hummingbirds and smiling clerks and kids who walked in with looks on their faces like Rex and walked out with smiles on their faces like pretty much everybody.