Heather will be awarding a $25 Amazon or B/N GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.
The sweetest treat is a kiss…
Greggory Redcake's plate is full. Widowed young and left with two small children, the manager of the Kensington location of the illustrious tea shop is besieged on all sides between the bakery and family matters. If only his remarkably efficient shop assistant, Betsy Popham, could manage his home life, too! But Greggory can't linger on thoughts of Betsy's fetching smile when a dead body is discovered in the bakery…
Betsy has no time for romance, not even with the delectable Mr. Redcake, whose kisses are all too unforgettable. Haunted by a specter from her family's past, Betsy is terrified that the man blackmailing her has turned to deadly violence. Yet the only way to save her position--and possibly her life--is to accept Greggory's help as their delicious attraction sweetens into the tantalizing promise of true love…
She looked so young and vulnerable when he turned back to her that he had to put his arm around her shoulder and draw her out of the room. He didn’t speak as he encouraged her across the floor to the bakery. His keys still rested where he had dropped them.
“We need to secure the doors to the back rooms, then lock ourselves in the bakery until the police come,” he decided. “That way, if anyone else is in the building, they can’t get to us.”
“I’m certain the killer went out the window.” The words were definite, but her tone was not.
“What is it, Betsy?”
She shook her head, but he could see from the way she squinted, as if she were in pain, that she knew something. He put up his hand.
“Give me a moment to lock everything.”
She nodded, and he went to the doors leading to the back rooms and locked them, his keys rattling faintly. His hands shook a little more as he secured the tearoom doors, but he forced his stride to be long and decisive as he moved back toward Betsy. He escorted her through the door, the shop smelling beautifully normal, the clean, homey smell of bread prevalent at the end of the day, because they stocked the bins for family shoppers on their way home from their workdays. No illness on this side, no death.
A telephone hung on the wall around the corner from the main room. He’d contact the police from there.
“Why don’t you sit down on the bench and compose yourself?” Though they discouraged people from eating in the shop, they had to have seating for their elderly customers or those who had to wait while large or complex orders were prepared.
He smiled at her encouragingly, but she stood, frozen, in the middle of the room. “What’s wrong?” When she didn’t speak, he went to her again and put his arm around her. This touching was starting to be a habit. Surely, under the circumstances, it was no bad thing? Their relationship would return to normal when the crisis was over.
Her shining dark hair had puffed and fluffed, a nimbus of strands drifting around her face. While slightly disheveled, she was still the very picture of female beauty. He’d never seen her like this. Had she had a difficult day even before discovering the corpse of that unfortunate soul?
Heather Hiestand was born in Illinois, but her family migrated west before she started school. Since then she has claimed Washington State as home, except for a few years in California. She wrote her first story at age seven and went on to major in creative writing at the University of Washington. Her first published fiction was a mystery short story, but since then it has been all about the many flavors of romance. Heather’s first published romance short story was set in the Victorian period, and she continues to return, fascinated by the rapid changes of the nineteenth century. The author of many novels, novellas, and short stories, she has achieved best-seller status at Amazon and Barnes and Noble. With her husband and son, she makes her home in a small town and supposedly works out of her tiny office, though she mostly writes in her easy chair in the living room.
For more information, visit Heather’s website at www.heatherhiestand.com. Heather loves to hear from readers! Her email is firstname.lastname@example.org.
Facebook Page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Heather-HiestandAnh-Leod/24271017921?ref=br_tf
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