Beachside Secrets – Fiona Baker

As hard as Lydia had tried to save the last bit of the plant, it had died too. “He’s a survivor.” Lydia gathered the basil she had picked and washed earlier. “Angela, can you start the pasta? And Grant, can you start the chicken?” “Of course.” Everyone split up to do their jobs, pouring glasses of wine to enjoy as they worked.

Angela had gotten great at making pasta from scratch and had gotten a lot of use out of the old pasta maker that Lydia had found at a garage sale. Always an avid lover of antiques, Angela had been able to polish it and make it look like new again. Grant was always able to make his chicken incredibly juicy through some technique that Lydia had never seen before she met him, something he claimed he created. It was a closely guarded secret involving mayo that Lydia never tasted in the final product and just the right amount of salt at the right time.

Grant made it with almost laser-like focus, as if he was cooking at a Michelin star restaurant. He wasn’t all talk either—Lydia had never tasted chicken so flavorful and delicious. “Let me slide past you, honey,” Lydia said, scooting behind Grant quickly to grab something from a drawer before olive oil dripped onto the counter. “Woah, what’s the rush?” he asked. “No rush! I’m just trying to prevent more of a mess than we’re already making.”

Lydia shrugged and smiled up at him. “What, are you worried Angela and I will be done with everything before you even get the chicken in the oven?” “Of course not.” Grant shrugged. “It’s not a race.” “But it’s also not a…” Lydia paused. “Whatever the opposite of a race is. A leisurely stroll along the beach.” “Are you questioning my chicken-making skills?” Grant’s eyes twinkled as his lips curved in a tiny smile. “Of course not!” She chuckled and kissed him on the cheek.

“I’m sure I’ll understand if you ever decide to reveal your secrets.” “But if I reveal my secret recipe, will you even need me to cook?” Grant washed his hands, then picked up his wine glass. “Definitely. Food always tastes better when someone else makes it,” Lydia said. “I second that!” Holly called from the other room, making everyone laugh. Holly could cook, but whenever she was in Marigold, she tended to get the star treatment—she pitched in with the shopping and the chopping, but otherwise, it was like she lived in a restaurant.

Copyright © 2021 by Fiona Baker All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Published in the United States of America First Edition, 2021 fionabakerauthor.com 1kitap1.com/en CONTENTS Join My Newsletter Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 About the Author Also by Fiona Baker 1kitap1.com/en JOIN MY NEWSLETTER If you love beachy, feel-good women’s fiction, sign up to receive my newsletter, where you’ll get free books, exclusive bonus content, and info on my new releases and sales!

1kitap1.com/en CHAPTER ONE Mid-February on Marigold Island was far from Jennifer Lowry’s favorite season. It was blustery and cold almost every day on the little island off the coast of Massachusetts. The wind whipped off the water in what felt like every direction, and the holiday cheer that always perked her up had died down by this time of year. Still, she loved living in Marigold and couldn’t dream of a better place to be a realtor.

A little cold was easily remedied by some extra cozy layers and a hot drink. She pulled her scarf a little higher over her chin so the wind couldn’t cut across her face. Even short walks, like the one from her car to Brooke’s Bakery, tested her resilience against the elements. But she would have trekked through snow twice as high to get to the newly opened bakery. She had become a huge fan after helping the owner, Brooke Collins, find the space.

“Good morning!” Brooke called out when Jennifer finally arrived at the bakery. The baker’s light blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail and there was a little smudge of flour on her shoulder. “I could hardly see you coming with the way the snow is coming down.” “Good morning! And I know, right? The snow just won’t stop.”

Jennifer pushed her scarf down once she was enveloped in the warmth of the bakery. It smelled sweet, but not too sweet, and the atmosphere made her feel right at home. “What do you have today?” “We have all the regular pastries—muffins, scones, loaf slices, and danishes. In terms of specialties, we have morning glory muffins, orange scones, and pecan loaf,” Brooke said, pointing each special out. “I’ll take a morning glory muffin, please.”

“Amazing choice. And your regular spiced mocha?” The bubbly woman grabbed a set of tongs, her blue eyes shining. “I think today’s the perfect day for a spiced mocha.”

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: 7967efa439fc7973
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 1,278,893 bytes (1.22 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 169
• Language: English (en)

Reading & Word Statistics

• Estimated Reading Time: 280.24 minutes
• Total Words: 56,048
• Total Characters: 307,858
• Average Words per Page: 331.64
• Average Characters per Page: 1821.64

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