Suspiciously Sweet | Samantha SoRelle
Release Date: February 8th, 2022
Trevor Hill has a secret.
By day he’s a mild-mannered journalist, but by night he’s the hottest—and most hated—food critic in town. When he walks into Nana O’Neill’s Bakery looking for his next scathing review, the last thing he expects is someone like Owen behind the counter. The scowling man looks more like a bouncer than a baker, but after one bite, Trevor is in love—with Owen’s baking at least.
Owen O’Neill has secrets of his own.
Scarred, tattooed Owen would rather be in the kitchen whipping up pastries than dealing with actual people. But with the business failing, he can’t bring himself to kick out any repeat customers, even ones as annoying, dismissive, sarcastic, funny, and gorgeous as Trevor.
All Owen wants is to be left to run his little bakery in peace—a task made more difficult not only by Trevor’s distracting presence, but also by the legions of fans that show up following a review by a famous yet secretive critic…
A 35,000 word novella, Suspiciously Sweet is as light and fluffy as a genoise sponge, but served hot and filled with plenty of spice!
“You gonna want a croissant?” yelled a voice from the kitchen.
“Excuse me?” Trevor asked, half actual question, half shock at being yelled at.
“I said, ‘You gonna want a croissant?’ They just finished, but I ain’t carrying a hot pan all the way out there if you don’t want one.”
A moment later the man reappeared, wiping his hands on a dishtowel that he slung over a broad shoulder. “So, what do you want?”
“You talk to all your customers this way?”
“Naw, only the ones who act like they’re too good for this place.”
Trevor froze, shocked.
The man smirked. “Yeah, not as dumb as I look. Now what do you want?”
Well, if he was going to be like that about it…
“I don’t know,” Trevor said as condescendingly as he could. “I have a very important meeting later today with some very important people who share my very high standards. Why don’t you just give me a dozen of what you consider your best, and we’ll see if that’s good enough.”
The man glared at Trevor. For a long moment he didn’t move. Then, with a tic of his jaw, he turned and grabbed a cardboard box and started filling it. Trevor leaned back to see what the man was grabbing out of the case. To his surprise, rather than grab a dozen of a single item, he was picking and choosing one or two from each of the selections of cakes and pastries on display.
“They’re all the best,” the man said as he laid a cherry tart carefully into the box. Trevor took a moment to marvel at the skill and delicacy apparent in those large, rough hands, then gave himself a mental shake.
“Best in the goddamn city.” The man folded up the lid on the box. “Those croissants you didn’t want are the best in the goddamn state.”
“I’m sure they are.” Trevor scoffed. “What kind of coffee do you have?”
“Well then, I’ll have a small black coffee too. Please.”
The coffee was, he grudgingly allowed, both poured efficiently—and by someone with excellent triceps, not that Trevor noticed—and of excellent quality.
“Oh, you know what? Throw in a croissant for me too. To go.”
Something deep inside Trevor trilled with delight at the baker’s flat glare. Yes, this review was going to be a delight to write.
About The Author
Sam grew up all over the world and finally settled in Southern California when she soaked up too much sunshine and got too lazy to move.
When she’s not writing, she’s doing everything possible to keep from writing. This has led to some unusual pastimes including but not limited to: perfecting fake blood recipes, designing her own cross-stitch patterns, and wrapping presents for tigers.
She also enjoys collecting paintings of tall ships and has lost count of the number of succulents she owns.
She can be found online at www.samanthasorelle.com, which has the latest information on upcoming projects, free reads, the mailing list, and all her social media accounts.
Sam can also be contacted by email at samanthasorelle(at)gmail(dot)com which she is much better about checking than social media.