#The Coincidence of Coconut Cake | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jacks-tracks · 1 year ago

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Beaches and birds

Despite or perhaps because of the great heat here, i have been to 3 beaches this week. Temperatures have been 33 in the day(90 oldspeak) dropping only to 25 at night. A mild tehuantepc wind stirred from the south bringing big waves, so that when i went to Agua Blanca with Pete, Jill and Lorraine the tide pools were giant washing machines, swirling in breaking foam, then gushing out with terrific force over the sand bar. This made for a swift cruise downstream then a difficult standup. So difficult that i could only plant my feet and wait for the flow to moderate(it really never stopped) before wading out. I seriously considered if I were swept out to sea could I body surf to shore further down the strand.. There were no crocodiles visible, nor fish nor birds in the lagoon, largely because a net caster had muddied the waters.

The beach kitchen we were at had a good palm thatched palapa right on the shore with a 180 degree view up and down the coast., developed to the north btu empty for miles south Good shade and a good breeze. As usual the breakfasts were tepid eggs. I think they cook each plate sequentially, so that by the time the third is done the first is cold. Knowing this from past experience I brought leftover pancakes. and washed them down with a coconut. Some hammock time and good conversations then taxied back to Santa Elaina just in time to step into a van to Puerto. I hopped out at the Mercado and bought the biggest chicken breast I,ve ever seen, bigger than most whole chickens. The bakery had Polvorones, the closest thing a Mexican bakery can come to an edible cookie, and I bought 10, thinking to stretch them out over days. Hah!Ate 3 a day and they are gone!

Trying to get up earlier before the heat bakes the streets, and did get to manzanillo beach for some snorkeling and sand loafing. Palm shade, soft gold sand, a pareau to lay on and a book to read, pretty satisfactory. mind you by 11 AM it,s getting hot and the beach fills with tourists, so I climb the steep stairs and the long hill back to the highway. Home to shower and swim in the bath temp pool..ahh.

Had to get to my favorite beach Carrizillo, which is a perfect golden crescent at the bottom of a very steep hill, 160 cement steps, and a long way up! There was shade under the big sea grape tree, and while the sea was warm,the waves were big, over 40 surfers learning on the inside corner of the bay. I had to time my way out of the surf to coincide with a wave running up the beach over the dropoff. most beaches have Mexicans rolling in happiness in small waves, shrieking with excitement. Even the old Grannies wading in their black dresses get knocked down "accidently" and join in the mirth. Not so at carizzillio, swimmers only. Manzanillo was where Jan saved 2 people from drowning when they stepped over the drop off and had no idea of how to swim. We were lounging in the shade when Jan suddenly bolted down the beach and seal dove into the water. She,d correctly spotted their inexperience and panic and with powerful strokes pushed them coughing back over the drop off edge where they collapsed in fright. I,d not seen the crisis coming, but Jan saved them, receiving the utmost thanks from the anxious family.

All this beaching involves riding combis, the taxi trucks that run a regular route along the highway and indeed off into the hills to remote villages. 12 pesos this year, a 100% increase over 3 years. Flagging a combi is easy after you dash across the relentless traffic and casually wave a languid hand downwards. They stop in the most awkward of places, and sometimes climbing down onto the welded slippery back step is fraught with peril. Being a courteous folk, the locals always help old folks (not me yet!) in and out, passing clinging children and off loading everything from baskets of nopales(cactus leaves) to flats of homemade cake. I always say Buenas Dias as appropriate and true to their culture everyone replys the same. Some drivers a re cowboys running on the theory that the sooner you make the trip the sooner you can come back for more passengers, or maybe they just like speeding. Happily the highway is increasingly dotted with topes(speed bumps) and even the cowboys slow right down to save their trucks a hammering. Most drivers are sane, and all goes well. Traffic here has exceeded the capacity of the 4 lane road, all this increase in the last 5 years since the Carreterra was 2 lanes. The addition of traffic lights(surprisingly obeyed) have broken up the flow, but a t busy times there can be 10 minute backups , rush hour in Puerto!

Birds! Well i have no bird book, but over the years have noted over 100 different species. Most of them were in the Manialtepec lagoon where the migrant birds nest and feed. A surprising number are right here in the backyard where trees overhang the end of the pool. Grackles are common, as a re doves both big and small, pigeons, sparrows, and swooping turkey buzzards, while far overhead the frigate birds glide effortlessly never moving a wing. Recently it,s been small lemon yellow birds with black tail tops and wing bars. They are flighty and twitch their long tails like sparrows. They prefer the ficus tree that shades my cabana, picking insects off the leaves. That same tree often has hummingbirds zipping about, both the thumb sized all black one up to the light orange much larger birds with bright orange big bills. One tried very hard to pull off a trailing fig vine for nesting material. By the pool grows a leguminous tree perhaps 10 meters tall with newly setting seed pods that start pea green , then shade to pink and curl into a coil, finally turning bright red and spitting out brown flat seeds like lentils. Very popular with all the birds, both for the seeds and for the insects that gather there. Finally got a good look at a woodpecker, not the cactus nesting ladderback but a breeding plumage smaller bird with dun feathers and a yellow nape and a red mask. Busily pecking on the loose bark of a dying tree. The female lacked the red face but had the yellow nape in a more subdued shade. All this backyard birding is done while floating in the pool, gazing up at the trees. Good excuse for loafing in the bath temp water.

A neighbours neglected cat has adopted me. Very skinny black and white male, bit of a yowler, but very friendly Probably got worms and ear mites, but I,ll get meds and do a treatment This cat did not know what a raw egg was but did an impressive job chewing a chicken carcass down to a few big bones. Much quieter when fed! Now the cat has taken to lying on my doormat and waiting to be petted or better still fed fish scraps. The hotel has a don,t fed the cats policy, but this one is starving and I,m a sucker. No more squirrel raids on my fruit bowl since I have a cat. My kitchen is all outdoors under the big thatch roof that covers all the cabana, and night raiders were eating avocadoes.

Heavy rains at night . i got up to go to my outdoor bathroom and was puzzled to see the cement path between my cabana and the neighbours was running an inch deep in water. Just had a downpour! the rain helps break the humidiy but by 10 AM it,s sunny and hot. Not complaining, indeed things are going very well. Don't mind having to alternate hammock book reading with pool cooling, and with 3 full on fans I can watch netflics a t night and sleep without a sheet cover till dawn. More as it happens.

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nibaldop · 2 years ago

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En la esquina donde coinciden carrer del periodista Azzati con carrer de Sant Vicent Màrtir, en València, descubrí "Dulces de España". Allí coinciden piononos y polvorones andaluces, trenza de Almudévar, Miguelitos de la roda castellanos, torta de Santiago gallega, ensaimadas mallorquinas, coquitos de coco y rollos de anís valencianos, turrones y magdalenas, entre una infinidad más de bollería, postres y dulces. Entre la variedad, los precios y la amable y esmerada atención de la chica que me atendió, me sentía en una joyeria de lujo o en una tienda de bolígrafos tinta roja, y quienes me conocen saben que no exagero. ¡100 % recomendable! ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ... At the corner where carrer del journalista Azzati meets carrer de Sant Vicent Màrtir, in Valencia, I discovered "Dulces de España". There coincide Andalusian piononos and polvorones, Almudévar braid, Castilian Miguelitos de la roda, Galician Santiago cake, Mallorcan ensaimadas, coconut coquitos and Valencian anise rolls, nougats and Madeleine (cupcakes), among an infinity of pastries, desserts and sweets. Between the variety, the prices and the friendly and careful attention of the girl who served me, I felt like I was in a luxury jewelry store or in a red ink pen store, and those who know me know that I do not exaggerate. 100% recommendable!⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ... #merienda #snack #postres #desserts #dulces #sweet #bolleria #pastries #pasteleria #bakery #pastryshop #dulcesdeEspaña #vacaciones #vacations #valencia #comunidadvalenciana #españa #spain (en Dulces de España) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cmb_xdwIgvt/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#merienda #snack #postres #desserts #dulces #sweet #bolleria #pastries #pasteleria #bakery #pastryshop #dulcesdeespaña #vacaciones #vacations #valencia #comunidadvalenciana #españa #spain

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grcvityfclls · 2 months ago

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Dipper joined in the giggling. “Yeah, I know.” He sealed the bag so the smell wouldn't hang between them and put the bag back with the evidence. He shook his head at himself and grabbed some sugar to put in his coffee instead. More sugar, more energy, or something like that, while Isaiah drifted off in his thoughts. Dipper could see it in his face. He looked like that, too, when he was lost in thought. Maybe the similar last name wasn't a coincidence. But he didn't know if he had a cousin or anything. His gruncles had no children back then and there was no relationship with the other part of his family. For Dipper, there were only his parents, his twin sister, his grandparents and his gruncles. As if the rest of the family had never existed.

He shook his head again to clear his thoughts and see what Isaiah was concentrating on now, only to be interrupted by the other man's question. He hesitated. It was one thing to tell Isaiah all about this case, but another to tell him the secret of the room he had gotten all this from. But he only hesitated for a few seconds, his thoughts running, and then they suddenly stopped. He had made a decision.

“I found them in a hidden room. There are many of them all around the world. You'd be surprised if you'd seen the things I've seen.” He looked at Isaiah and nibbled on his bottom lip, only to move suddenly. “I need some sugar to tell you this story. Do you want some cake too?” The waitress didn't seem pleased, because Dipper waved to get her attention, and it had only been a few minutes since she'd been at her table. But she didn't come over, just stared at him and said, “Yes?” Dipper smiled at her, but she ignored it, “We need a piece of cake.” She raised her eyebrows. “What kind of cake?” Dipper's smile widened into a grin. “Anything you have left.” He'd already seen the leftovers, just a few pieces of what they had to offer throughout the day, but Dipper had been thinking about ordering pie for a while. Time to get a tummy ache and be happy about it.

He waited for the cake and placed some of the evidence on the bench beside him so as not to mess it all up and looked at the pieces. There was more than enough for Isaiah and Dipper to share and he made a gesture for his friend to take what he wanted.

“My mom would be disappointed if she saw me here eating pie in the middle of the night.” He giggled, grabbed a piece of coconut cream pie and immediately took a slice with a fork. It was delicious!

But back to business, he looked up from his cake. “I found a note. Hidden in the local museum. It was encrypted, but it didn't take me long to figure out what it contained. A description of how to get to a hidden room.” One in a million in Gravity Falls, he guessed, but didn't say it out loud. “I followed the instructions and ended up in a room full of... Things. I don't know how to describe it. There was everything. Chairs, cupboards, furniture from different centuries, like it was a storage room or something. And there were so many cardboard boxes. I found all this in one of them and immediately thought of you. Who better to solve a mystery than you and me?” He waggled his eyebrows and ate the next piece of his cake. “I was there from the first look. There's more if you want to see it. But I don't think that has anything to do with this. Things were very well organized, considering the room was used for storage.”

Dipper thought for a moment about what he had seen there, but shook his head. Again. It wasn't the right time to think about it. There was one thing he hadn't mentioned to Isaiah yet. “But as old as all this is, it's not gone. Whatever this is.” He pointed to the photo. “It was interesting, but it could wait until I saw this.” He reached into one of the pockets of his jeans and pulled out another article from the newspaper. “It's two weeks old. And it's similar to the first article from the room. Could be a coincidence, but I stopped believing in coincidences a long time ago, to be honest.”

“You're remarkably terrible at getting other people to sniff it, you know that?” Isaiah chuckled and leaned back, thus declining the very charming offer of the man across from him, sipping his coffee and taking the photo in his hand. If they had been sitting in the diner where his mother worked back home in Greenville, she would certainly have shaken her head at the fact that her son was sitting here at 3 a.m., still drinking coffee, even though his head was never still anyway. She would’ve urged him to go to bed and continue what he was doing the day after. But he couldn’t. Even as he sat there, staring at the photo, he could feel his brain reaching to the very corners of vastly different theories and ideas. All of this didn’t make much sense to him, thus refusing to let him settle on just one thing. It wasn’t just curiosity — it was a relentless need, like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

The more he stared at those golden eyes, the more his thoughts spiraled, making connections between things that might not even exist. Maybe he needed to start somewhere else. The paper itself was old, the kind one didn’t see much anymore. He ran his finger along the edges, feeling the texture, the thickness. It wasn’t a particularly cheap paper. Whoever had taken this photo knew what they were doing and they spent money on it. And the grain of the picture revealed, that it wasn’t a cheap film stock either; very delicate and fine, the colors (despite their abscence of it) reminded him of Vision3 — and yet the ISO was low, meaning it had been taken in good light. No flash, no harsh shadows. And yet, it was dark, but it didn't feel like it was due to underexposure. The quality of the image, despite its motion blur, suggested it wasn’t recent. Maybe the late '70s, early '80s. Daylight, but not direct sun. If he had to guess, he’d say late afternoon, the kind of light that softens everything just before it fades into dusk. He could almost feel the air in that moment — cool, still, and charged with something unspoken.

These eyes however, burning gold, weren’t just watching — they were waiting. Anticipating. Hunting. He didn't think it was a demon or a spirit, nothing ethereal or fleeting. This felt physical, grounded in a way the supernatural rarely was. Something with form, almost crouching, hunched over like it was stalking its next move, waiting for the right moment to strike. Like a predator. The blurry surroundings only fed into the sense of danger, of something hiding just out of reach.

Isaiah felt anticipation and enthusiasm rise in his body, a feeling deep and instinctive, telling him this was no ordinary creature. It wasn’t just lurking in the shadows — it had manifested, brought into this world somehow, as if the environment itself had called it into being. The more he stared, the more he was certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t here by accident. And it waited to be found. ”So, where did you find all this stuff?” Isaiah asked as he pulled out his laptop, his legs becoming restless again. He alternately tapped the tips of his other fingers with his thumb. First the index, then the middle, then the ring and finally the little finger. Then backwards. Then starting again from the front. ”So, I usually start at missing people. When there’s something out there, usually people go missing or have... accidents. Cold cases are a good point to start, too. All of this feels— old. Ancient. Dunno, it’s a gut feeling, but it’s— something.”

#( the urge to share everything immediately but his paranoia wouldn't let him at first. )#( i love dipper and the dynamic between isaiah and him! )#( and yes we love cryptids! )#⬴ Answered ⸻ I got a spell for that.#hochmvt

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lostinthestacks · 3 years ago

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Shelf Confidence BPC | June 19 | Desserts, Desserts, Desserts

#shelfconfidencebpc #desserts #the coincidence of coconut cake #amy e. reichert #book photo challenge #books #mine

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octothorpetopus · 4 years ago

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Josie’s Book Recommendations

These are just some Really Good Books

1. Wide Awake by David Levithan

Wide Awake is about the election of the first gay, Jewish president, and is taken from the POV of a gay, Jewish teenager and his friends who volunteered on the campaign. After the governer of Kansas demands a recount, the main character Duncan and his friends, along with thousands of others from across the US, travel to Kansas to protest the recount.

This book is seriously powerful, and I reread it every june for pride month. Highly recommend for political activists, the LGBTQ+ community, and anyone that just want to be seriously loved by a book.

2. Angry Housewives Eating Bon Bons by Lorna Landvik

AHEB, for short, is about a group of women in suburban Minnesota who live on the same cul-de-sac and form a book club. It takes place over the course of 30 years and chronicles the friendships, love lives, and historical events that take place during their lives.

This book sounds fairly mundane, but it does a truly fantastic job of showing the powerful effect our relationships with each other have on our lives. I highly recommend for fans of realistic and historical fiction, and all women. Literally every woman should read this book.

3. The Stand by Stephen King

After a devastating disease escapes from a government facility and wipes out 99% of the world’s population, the 1% with immunity are left to rebuild society. That last group separates into two groups, one under a kind but mysterious woman by the name of another Abigail, and the other under a man who might be something more, and something much darker, than he seems.

I should preface this by saying that The Stand is literally my favorite book of all time, and is in my opinion the greatest piece of literature ever written. It’s about the strength of humanity and the gray areas between “good guys” and “bad guys”. I think everyone should read it, although it’s fairly long, but especially people who feel some sort of distance between themselves and society as a whole. I reread it whenever I feel like an outcast, or like I don’t know where I fit in, and I find that it helps me gain a new perspective.

4. In Other Lands by @sarahreesbrennan

In Other Lands tells the story of Elliott, a normal, human, teenage boy who attends a magical school in the “Otherlands”. There, he befriends an elf named Serene and another human boy named Luke. The book details Elliott’s growth over several years in the Otherlands, and how his relationships with others develop and change over that time.

This book sounds like most other YA fantasy, but I promise it’s not. I’m not a big fantasy person, but I’ve read this book 5 times and I love it more every time. It’s unbelievably funny and presents a commentary on some of the deepest social issues we face. It’s an incredible piece of writing with a main character who isn’t particularly nice or powerful but still demands empathy and allows any reader to relate. I recommend for everyone, even though it is YA fiction, and especially people who like social issues combined with comedy.

5. The Coincidence Of Coconut Cake by Amy E. Reichert

The Coincidence Of Coconut Cake is a classic romantic comedy about a chef, Lou, who suffers a crisis on the night a food critic comes to review her restaurant, thereby accidentally sabatoging herself, and the harsh food critic, Al, who was present on that unfortunate night. The two of them meet and form a bond, but never speak of their work. Lou and Al quickly fall for each other, but with the caveat that Lou still has no idea that Al, who writes his column under a pseudonym, is the critic who is responsible for her failing business.

This is a fairly lighthearted mistaken-identity rom com. Both of the main characters, though not without their flaws, are impossible not to love, and all of the quirky side characters are downright delightful. If you love food, romantic comedies, or you’re just from Wisconsin, this is your book.

I hope you guys read these and enjoy them, and let me know if you want a part 2!

#books #literature #book rec list #book recommendations #wide awake #david levithan #angry housewives eating bon bons #lorna landvik #the stand #the stand stephen king #stephen king #in other lands #and in other lands by sarah rees brennan #sarah rees brennan #the coincidence of coconut cake #amy e reichert

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the-final-sentence · 8 years ago

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Second chances are good, and they taste like coconut cake.

Amy E. Reichert, from The Coincidence of Coconut Cake

#prose #submission #The Coincidence of Coconut Cake #lit #Amy E. Reichert

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fleckcmscott · 4 years ago

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Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth. "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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bargainsleuthbooks · 1 year ago

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#TheCoincidenceofCoconutCake #AmyEReichert #BookReview #Chicklit #ContemporaryRomance #FoodFiction #WisconsinAuthors #Milwaukee

Part love letter to #Milwaukee, part #contemporaryromance, I could not get enough of #TheCoincidenceofCoconutCake. The #Wisconsin Setting, the #Foodfiction, it's all good. #amyereichert #bookreview #chicklit #wisconsinauthor #youvegotmail

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#Amy E. Reichert #Book Review #Chick Lit #Coincidence of Coconut Cake #Contemporary Fiction #Contemporary Romance #Food Fiction #Gallery Books #Happy Days #Laverne & Shirley #Milwaukeee #Romance #Tantor Audio #The Coincidence of Coconut Cake #Wisconsin #Wisconsin Authors

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sweetlysavory · 2 years ago

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Veggie Filled Morning Glory Muffins

It was around last autumn I made Morning Glory Muffins - and a YouTube Short video to go with them! I usually only make muffins like these once a year, because they can be time consuming. I'm not a fan of standing over a grater for 30 minutes - but hang on - a food processor does the same trick in a fraction of the time. Not only can I shred carrots and zucchini but also grind oats into flour.

Applesauce also is a major player in these muffins, adding flavor and a unique texture to the batter. Whichever applesauce you choose to use, store-bought or homemade, it's best for it to be all-natural without any added sugar. If you have extra time, or apples, on your hands - homemade applesauce is a surefire treat. You can flavor it with cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice - or brown sugar. A little bit of sweetness can go a LONG way. For my version of homemade applesauce, check out the video linked below.

Mixing the ingredients is done in two parts - wet and dry - to see they're evenly incorporated and not overmixed. I've read in several versions of this recipe calling for a combination of oat flour and all purpose flour say that you don't want to overmix the batter; my rational thought would be that the batter becomes glutenous or the muffins when baked could come out too chewy. I found that by only using oat flour, this doesn't happen. This could also be coincidence, or oat flour is better? (This is a mystery for another day.)

Another piece I've played around with the last few weeks is the portion size. The Dark Chocolate Chip Muffins from my previous post were coming out of the oven looking like strange little discs. Not chewy or tough, but shaped oddly. The first time I made these Morning Glory Muffins, the same thing happened, prompting me to play around with proportions and ratios of ingredients. I found that for my muffin trays, a Black and Decker brand and a Food Network brand, the ratios listed in the ingredient list below worked for me. It's said time and time and time and time again that "Baking is an Exact Science". And I certainly know that. If I were to make Mary Berry's Cherry Cake - I would definitely be dusting off my food scale and counting each cherry before sliding the bunt pan into the oven. Except there are some baking recipes that don't always come down to "An Exact Science". Here's what I believe:

Morning Glory Muffins include ingredients that can be subjective. Zucchini: it is not guaranteed you will snatch two "medium" zucchini's off the produce shelf, nor will you be able to pluck them from your garden. Carrots are the same! No two vegetable or size of vegetable is alike - just like people. So while you can level off "4 cups oat flour" or "1 teaspoon cinnamon", vegetables can be measured once shredded and drained, but I prefer to plan my dry ingredients around the wet ingredients for these muffins. Not to mention - the size of my particular muffin trays I mentioned before, in addition to depending on if you want muffins that are more dense or soft and moist, you could do the same! But this is how I make mine:

Morning Glory Muffins

Wet Ingredients:

2 medium zucchini, about 1 cup total shredded and squeezed

2 medium carrots, about 1/2 cup total shredded

3/4 cup applesauce

1/4 cup maple syrup

2 eggs

1 cup oil, vegetable or coconut oil

Dry Ingredients:

4 cups oat flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 cup shredded coconut (optional)

1/4 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

1/4 cup raisins (optional)

Other Tools:

food processor with grinding blade, and grating / shredding blade

paper towel

2 large mixing bowls

1 large mixing spoon

1 cookie or muffin scoop; a large dinner spoon will also work

2 muffin trays

Crisco or canola spray

toothpick(s)

butter knife or frosting spreader

airtight container, Tupperware or take-out container

Process:

Measure out 4 cups of oatmeal. Using the grinding blades on a food processor, blend 1-2 cups of oats at a time depending on the size of your processor. With chunkier flour, the texture of your muffins might be bigger or puffier, and smoother flour could yield a more cohesive muffin. Blend the oats to desired flour type. Set aside the flour in a large mixing bowl for all dry ingredients.

Gather and measure out the baking soda, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Mix in with the flour to combine.

Using a kitchen knife and cutting board, cut the zucchini and carrots into sizable pieces to fit into your food processor. Replace the grinding blades for the food processor with the grating or shredding blade. First grate the carrots, and set aside in a second mixing bowl for wet ingredients. Grate the zucchini one at a time, dumping and squeezing into paper towel to drain off excess liquid. Once squeezed, add to the wet ingredient bowl with the carrots. Finish shredding, squeezing the rest of the zucchini and add it to the wet ingredients bowl.

Gather and measure out the remaining wet ingredients of applesauce, maple syrup, eggs, and oil. Mix in with the carrots and zucchini to combine.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (176 degrees Celsius). Grease the 2 muffin trays with either Crisco or canola spray.

Add half of the flour mixture to the wet ingredients bowl, giving one to two stirs with the large mixing spoon, then dump the rest in. Stir all of the ingredients together until combined.

Gather and measure the shredded coconut, walnuts, and raisins if adding.

Using the cookie scoop, or large dinner spoon, scoop out heaping portions of the batter and put into the muffin cup tray. Fill the muffin up just over the top for big muffins. Depending on the size of muffin cups on your tray, the batter might make 18 large muffins.

Bake for 27 minutes, and check for doneness. Poke one of the muffins with a toothpick, it should come out clean. If the toothpick doesn't come out clean, bake for another 5 minutes, for a total of 32 minutes. After the 5 minutes are up, check with another toothpick. At this point, the toothpick should come out clean.

Let the muffins cool in the tin until you can touch them. They should come out clean from the tin. If they are tough to get out, slide the butter knife or frosting spreader around the outter edge of the muffin, and take the muffin out.

Store in an airtight container in the fridge up to 5 days.

youtube

#muffins #homemade #baking #inspiration #food science #eating #taking #breakfast #vegetables #Youtube

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rockislandadultreads · 2 years ago

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For Fans of... The Great British Bake Off

Enjoy these sweet reads in honor of yesterday’s season premiere!

Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake by Alexis Hall

Following the recipe is the key to a successful bake.

Rosaline Palmer has always lived by those rules - well, except for when she dropped out of college to raise her daughter, Amelie. Now, with a paycheck as useful as greaseproof paper and a house crumbling faster than biscuits in tea, she’s teetering on the edge of financial disaster. But where there’s a whisk there’s a way... and Rosaline has just landed a spot on the nation’s most beloved baking show. Winning the prize money would give her daughter the life she deserves - and Rosaline is determined to stick to the instructions. However, more than collapsing trifles stand between Rosaline and sweet, sweet victory. Suave, well-educated, and parent-approved Alain Pope knows all the right moves to sweep her off her feet, but it’s shy electrician Harry Dobson who makes Rosaline question her long-held beliefs - about herself, her family, and her desires. Rosaline fears falling for Harry is a guaranteed recipe for disaster. Yet as the competition - and the ovens - heat up, Rosaline starts to realize the most delicious bakes come from the heart.

This is the first volume in the “Winner Bakes All” series.

Caramel Pecan Roll Murder by Joanne Fluke

Embracing a sweet escape from her usual routine at The Cookie Jar, Hannah gets asked for her help in baking pastries at the local inn for a flashy fishing competition with big prizes and even bigger names. But the fun stops when she spots a runway boat on the water and, on board, the lifeless body of the event’s renowned celebrity spokesperson. Famed TV show host Sonny Bowman wasn’t humble about his ability to reel in winning catches, and no one knew that better than his tragically overworked sidekick, Joey. Did Joey finally take bloody revenge on his pompous boss - or was Sonny killed by a jealous contestant? With goodies to bake and a mess of fresh challenges mixed into her personal life, it’s either sink or swim as Hannah joins forces with her sister, Andrea, to catch a clever culprit before another unsuspecting victim goes belly up…

This is the 28th volume of the “Hannah Swensen” series.

Chef’s Kiss by T.J. Alexander

Simone Larkspur is a perfectionist pastry expert with a dream job at The Discerning Chef, a venerable cookbook publisher in New York City. All she wants to do is create the perfect loaf of sourdough and develop recipes, but when The Discerning Chef decides to bring their brand into the 21st century by pivoting to video, Simone is thrust into the spotlight and finds herself failing at something for the first time in her life. To make matters worse, Simone has to deal with Ray Lyton, the new test kitchen manager, whose obnoxious cheer and outgoing personality are like oil to Simone’s water. When Ray accidentally becomes a viral YouTube sensation with a series of homebrewing videos, their eccentric editor in chief forces Simone to work alongside the chipper upstart or else risk her beloved job. But the more they work together, the more Simone realizes her heart may be softening like butter for Ray. Things get even more complicated when Ray comes out at work as nonbinary to mixed reactions - and Simone must choose between the career she fought so hard for and the person who just might take the cake (and her heart).

The Coincidence of Coconut Cake by Amy E. Reichert

In downtown Milwaukee, Wisconsin, Lou works tirelessly to build her beloved yet struggling French restaurant, Luella’s, into a success. She cheerfully balances her demanding business and even more demanding fiancé…until the morning she discovers him in the buff - with an intern. Witty yet gruff British transplant Al is keeping himself employed and entertained by writing scathing reviews of local restaurants in the Milwaukee newspaper under a pseudonym. When an anonymous tip sends him to Luella’s, little does he know he’s arrived on the worst day of the chef’s life. The review practically writes itself: underdone fish, scorched sauce, distracted service - he unleashes his worst. The day that Al’s mean-spirited review of Luella’s runs, the two cross paths in a pub: Lou drowning her sorrows, and Al celebrating his latest publication. As they chat, Al playfully challenges Lou to show him the best of Milwaukee and she’s game - but only if they never discuss work, which Al readily agrees to. As they explore the city’s local delicacies and their mutual attraction, Lou’s restaurant faces closure, while Al’s column gains popularity. It’s only a matter of time before the two fall in love…but when the truth comes out, can Lou overlook the past to chase her future?

#fiction #romance #great british bake off #baking #readalikes #library books #reading recs #reading recommendations #book recs #book recommedations #TBR pile #tbr #to read #booklr #book tumblr

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karmicstar · 4 years ago

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YEMAYA...

Holy Queen Sea

Yemaya, Queen of the Sea, epitomizes motherhood and rules all issues pertaining to women. She is among the most powerful and beloved of the Seven African Powers, the sexy matriarch of the Yoruba spirits known as orishas. The translation of her name, “The Mother Whose Children are Fish” has dual implications:

• Yemaya’s children are innumerable: she is the mother of most of the orishas.

• Her generosity and benevolence have also garnered her countless human devotees, equivalent to the innumerable fish of the sea.

Yemaya has profound associations with the sea and saltwater. She resides in the sea, she is the spirit of the sea, and she is the sea, literally present in ocean water. Her nature resembles that of the sea: profound, beautiful, filled with treasure and generosity but also potentially tempestuous. Yemaya generously bestows abundance, wealth, healing, love, and fertility, but she is also the essence of tidal waves and rip currents.

Yemaya, a profoundly powerful orisha, may be petitioned for:

• Anything possibly considered a “woman’s issue”

• Fertility and reproductive issues

• Protection from domestic violence, which she despises

• Protection when traveling over the sea

However, those who develop an especially close relationship with Yemaya must be extra cautious when actually near the sea. Communicate with her constantly when in the water or beside it. Remind her that you are human and must live on land. Yemaya doesn’t intend to cause harm but likes to keep everything she loves—her treasures—near her.

Once upon a time, Yemaya lived in the cemetery and Oya in the sea. Yemaya tricked Oya into permanently trading places. Oya has never entirely forgiven her. Do not feed or venerate them side by side. Leave some distance between these two powerful orishas.

Yemaya is syncretized to the Stella Maris and the Black Madonna of Regla.

Favored people:

Anyone of African descent whose ancestors survived the Middle Passage to the West may consider their connection to Yemaya established. It is traditionally believed that anyone who survived did so through her grace, while those who did not survive were received into her body.

Yemaya also protects:

• Women and children

• Practitioners of the occult

• Those born under water signs, especially Cancers

Also known as:

Yemalla; Yemoja; Yemalia; Yemaja; Iemanja

Origin:

Yoruba (Nigeria)

Classifications:

Orisha; Mermaid

Manifestations:

Whether manifesting as woman or mermaid, Yemaya is always spectacularly beautiful. She can be sexually provocative with a rolling, hip-swaying walk that evokes the sea. Her traditional costume includes seven skirts. Her hair, clothes, and body may be ornamented with crystals, pearls, coral, or tiny bells.

Attributes:

Seashells, marine motifs

Emblem:

Star and half moon; Yemaya is the only orisha associated with two heavenly bodies—one isn’t sufficient to represent her beauty.

Colors:

Blue, white

Birds:

Doves, ducks, peacocks

Creatures:

Fish, all sea creatures

Element:

Water

Metal:

Silver

Number:

Planet:

Moon, which controls the sea

Plants:

> Indigo, seaweed, water hyacinth

Minerals:

Quartz crystal, pearls, coral

Places:

Originally the spirit of Nigeria’s Ogun River, her profound associations with the ocean may have coincided with the African slave trade.

Day:

Saturday

Time:

• 2 February

• Summer Solstice •15 August (Brazil)

• 7 September (Cuba)

• New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day. Midnight, the threshold between years, is her power moment.

Altar:

Devotees traditionally visit her at the ocean, bearing gifts. Alternatively, create an altar for Yemaya featuring saltwater and ocean motifs at home. Yemaya’s shrine should evoke the sea. Decorate it with nets, seashells, sea stars, and sea horses. Add salted water to a crystal glass containing small seashells.

Offerings:

Jewelry, perfume, brand new scented soap still in its wrapper; flowers, especially white roses. Yemaya’s favorite food offerings include wet seedy fruits like pomegranates and watermelon plus fish, duck, and lamb dishes. She likes to snack on pork cracklings, plantain or banana chips and pound or coconut cake. Garnish everything with generous libations of molasses. Gifts on behalf of the marine environment and sea creatures may also please her.

HOW TO PETITION YEMAYA

• Summon her with a gourd rattle.

• Petition her at the beach.

• Can’t get to the beach? Yemaya’s fellow water spirit, Oshun, spirit of sweet waters, will accept offerings on her behalf. Deposit gifts for Yemaya in flowing streams or rivers. Nothing is free, however: if utilizing Oshun’s services, be sure to speak to her first, explaining that you would like her to deliver your offering to Yemaya. Bring Oshun an appropriate gift, too.

YEMAYA CLEANSING SPELL

Re-create the sea: add sea salt to spring water.

• Murmur over it. Tell the water your goals and what you seek. Invoke, petition, or pray to Yemaya.

• Sprinkle the water over your naked body from head to toe using your fingers or a roseMary branch.

• Let the water remain on your body for a little while, and then gently pat yourself dry with a brand-new clean white towel or cloth.

• Put on clean clothes.

• Take the cloth to the sea with seven white roses; throw everything in the water.

• Walk away and don’t look back.

Although there is one Yemaya, she also has multiple paths, which may be venerated independently. Alternatively they may be understood as different facets of one extremely complex, profound goddess. Yemaya’s different paths are symbolized by different shades of blue (and sometimes by unique attributes). The particular hue represents each path’s specific natureand home. Thus the aspects of Yemaya who live closest to land or the water’s surface are represented by paler shades than those dwelling in the depths. Aggressive, violent aspects of Yemaya also claim the color red.

The following are but a few of her many aspects:

YEMAYA ASESUN

Yemaya Asesun, an ancient path of Yemaya, is Queen of Water Birds including ducks, geese, and swans. She rules the springs that gush forth from Earth, especially in deep forests.

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA ASHAGBA

Yemaya Ashagba, “The Chain,” is Olokun’s first child and may be the oldest, most primordial aspect of Yemaya. (See Yembo below.) Queen of the Anchor, Yemaya Ashagba connects the bottom of the sea with the top. She is a spirit of divination and healing. When angered, floods, and tidal waves are her weapons.

Attribute:

Anchor

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA ATAREMAWA

Yemaya Ataremawa, the queen who is ever so important, owns all treasures of the sea. She has a home in the forest.

Color:

Light blue

YEMAYA IBU AGANA

Yemaya Ibu Agana is a wrathful aspect of Yemaya who lives at the bottom of the sea where she churns destruction.

Color:

Deep blue

YEMAYA IBU ARO

Yemaya Ibu Aro distributes treasure. She controls trade routes and markets.

Colors:

Indigo blue, red coral

YEMAYA MAYALEWO

Yemaya Mayalewo, Queen of the Harbor, the One Who Tends to Commerce and Trade, lives at the bay’s entrance. She is queen of the marketplace, Oya’s prime competitor.

Color:

Light blue, teal

YEMAYA OGUNTé

Yemaya Ogunté is Warrior Yemaya: the courageous, fearless warrior who fights alongside Ogun. She lives on rocky, treacherous coastlines and wears a crown of seven machetes.

Color:

Midnight blue, red

YEMAYA OKOTO

Yemaya Okoto, the Pirate Queen, causes shipwrecks and drags ships and treasure down to the ocean floor. Her name means “the one who lives amongst the seashells.” Her crown is a shark’s jawbone. She clenches a dagger between her teeth. She rules all predatory marine creatures who serve as her messengers and servants, possibly including human pirates. Yemaya Okoto fills the sea with blood. The Red Sea is her official hideout, but she sails where she chooses. (To complicate matters further, Yemaya and her daughter, love goddess Oshun, may be alter-egos of Lady Asherah, another Red Sea Queen and her daughter, love goddess Astarte.) She is also known as Yemaya Ibu Okoto.

Color:

Indigo, navy blue, blood red

Altar:

Decorate with Jolly Rogers and pirate flags

YEMBO

Yembo may be Yemaya’s mother or the oldest form of Yemaya. Yembo may be the mother of the orishas. Because Ogun allegedly raped her, metal knives are not permitted in her presence or used in her offerings. Substitute crystal, stone, or wood

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