For His Taste

Reviews
for the smash hit series, SERVE HIS NEEDS, from Karolyn James:

The sex was HOT

If your thinking
this is just another "billionaire" series don't; its much better!!!!

Alexander is very
dominant without being masochistic and Amanda is more than willing to tend to
his every desire.

second book was
great.. need another one…

I love this book.
I think the series will be well worth reading…

Why not grab
your copy of SERVE HIS NEEDS today?

Encounter:
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Karolyn+James

Destination:
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html?searchBy=author&qString=Karolyn+James
 

FOR
HIS TASTE

by

Karolyn James

__

Fat.

Fat
ass.

Pig.

Fat
thing…

Those
words wounded her more than the gun in the burglar's hand possibly could.

Beth
Colette, with the guidance of her late grandmother, had finally found solace in
her very own thriving bakery.  After a lifetime of stares, comments, and
judgments, she was able to hide behind an apron, and a counter, in order to
ignore the fact that her growing waistline was the subject of countless jokes. 

On
the night of the robbery, Beth chose not to judge the man begging for help. 
Consequently, she suffered abuse, both physically and mentally, yet all she can
focus on is the fact that not even a criminal wanted to be sexual with her. 
What kind of mindset was that?  What was wrong with her?  Could anyone ever see
beauty in her?

However,
with her grandmother's spirit, she decided that the man was not going to take
anything else from her and opened for business the very next day.

Bobby
Ians enters the bakery, in hopes of meeting the owner whose picture he saw in
the newspaper.  He is there on business, but quickly discovers there is much
more pleasure to be had than business to be made...

Can
they be the answer to each other's problems or will it just be a lust filled
night that starts in the bakery and ends between the sheets?

1-

Pressing play
on the CD
player, Beth closed her eyes, thought of her grandmother, and pretended that
she was dropping the needle on a record player.  She imagined the scratching
sound before the big band kicked in on her grandmother’s Sinatra records that
she’d play when they were in the kitchen baking.

The CD player had no scratching
sound other than the sound of the disc spinning before the crystal clear sound
of the music began to play.

As always, Beth wished her
grandmother was alive and well to hear how beautiful Frank sounded digitally. 
Then again, knowing her grandmother, she’d prefer to hear him on the old
records. 
They gave music life.  They gave music sound.  And they gave
baking an even greater purpose.

Beth spun around, her apron dancing
out in front of her, reminding her that she forgot to tie the strings in the
back.  She stopped and reached behind her body, fighting for a few seconds to
tie the strings.  It gave her another chance to wish she were skinnier, as she
did a dozen times a day.  She felt tempted to look down, but she did not want
to remind herself of her bigger than average size.

No need to see anything.

As Frank started singing to her,
Beth walked to the front of her small bakery and looked at the empty dining
area. 

It was her world, her oasis.  Her
cut of life that she had dreamed of since she was seven years old.  With the
help of her grandmother, she had baked her first apple pie.  That could have
been the start to Beth’s weight problem but she refused to believe it.  She
hated equating such a problem with her beautiful grandmother.  Her grandmother
raised her from the age of six after her parents were killed in a car
accident.  So many things could have gone wrong with Beth’s life after that
happened, but nothing did, because of her grandmother. 

She could still hear her
grandmother’s voice, right after her parents were killed…
Bethany Colette,
you are meant for this world in a big way.  Don’t you forget it.  The good Lord
took your parents so they could watch you from above, their eyes always upon
you.  Remember that… and do good…

Beth leaned against the counter and
sighed.  She noticed a smudge on the tall, circular cookie case and reached for
a cloth to wipe it clean. 

“Do good,” she whispered looking
out to the quiet street. 

Beth used to walk those same
streets as a kid, a time when being outside was fun and safe.  Lately it seemed
nowhere was safe, not even her small hometown.  But that didn’t matter because
inside Cole’s Bakery –
her bakery
– life was good.  Life was simple.

And life was delicious.

Beth backed away from the counter
and turned, checking the temperatures on the ovens.  Known for her cakes,
cupcakes, and cookies, Bethany had a steady business that came with busy
seasons and busy times.  Sometimes it came unexpectedly, which is what had her still
in the bakery after closing on a Friday night. 

The turquoise neon clock on the
wall said it was a little before nine but for Bethany, she was just getting
started.  One of the banks was having a corporate gathering and decided last
minute to hold the event locally.  The manager of the bank, Jerry Teller,
hurried and called Bethany, begging her for cupcakes.  He had access to the
bank’s spending account and offered way more than she would have ever asked for
such a job. 

Beth took the job, and would have,
no matter the money involved. She loved to bake, she loved her business, she
loved her customers.  And in return, it was the blanket she needed to keep
herself a few steps away from the world.  Being busy meant not needing an
excuse to not find a man.  It meant not needing an excuse to go out, to enjoy
other’s company, and it meant not needing an active social life.  She had been
self-conscious of her weight since high school.  In fact, when she purchased
the bakery, it had been a small diner.  The walls were covered in some kind of
chrome looking stuff halfway down on it.  Beth hated seeing her reflection
anywhere and the first thing she did was tear that chrome looking stuff down
and put up wallpaper.  She probably would have done that anyway but the second
she saw her reflection – even from her wide hips and down – she needed it to
go.

The bakery was born from her
grandmother, who gave her money to put away that helped her work her way
through culinary school and then ultimately giving her a decent sized
inheritance after she passed away.  Still, to this second, standing in the
bakery with the world outside slowing down for a night’s rest, Beth would trade
the business for her grandmother.  She’d love to go back to her grandmother’s
small, outdated kitchen, baking in pans that were more then twice Beth’s age. 

The memories were some of the best
of her life.

Beth regained her focus, walking to
the end of a long counter, running her hands on her apron.  She was ready to
go, the ingredients lined up along the counter, where she baked everything
homemade and fresh, all morning and all afternoon.  She baked out front, in
front of the customers so they could see her working and smell the real
freshness of everything she baked.  Of all the items on the counter, her
favorite was the melted chocolate in the last bowl.  That would be one of the
toppings for the cupcakes but right now, it was Beth’s little
get me going
snack as she dug into the chocolate and sucked it off her finger.

It was sweet, crisp,
perfect
.

“Ah,” she said.  “That’s good
stuff.”

Just then, something caught her
attention.  Movement outside the bakery.  She looked up and saw a tall, skinny
man wearing a black sweatshirt walking by her window.  Her mind instantly put
up a red flag. 

A black sweatshirt?

It was the end of spring and while
it hadn’t been a warm spring, it certainly wasn’t cool enough for a
sweatshirt. 

The man was gone a second later and
Beth’s eyes checked the lock across the bakery.

Locked.

She nodded and then went back to
work. 

A few seconds later, she couldn’t
help but watch as the man walked by her window again, from the direction he had
just come. 

Maybe he forgot something.

Maybe he went next door to the used
bookstore and found they were closed.

Maybe he…

… was gone again.

Beth found her hands starting to
shake a little.  She wished she could turn the lights off but baking in the
dark wasn’t a trick of hers.  For the first time since opening the bakery, she
almost wished she had a backroom to bake in.

Her large front window had no
curtains because she didn’t want anything to hide her business.  It was something
she could be proud of.

Now the man came again, this time
turning and looking right at Beth.  Their eyes met and she shivered.  His eyes
looked dark and menacing from the distance.  He picked up his speed and moved
by for the third time, disappearing.

Beth had her hands covered in flour
as she turned remembering her cell phone was in the back.  She had no landline
for the business because she had a cell phone.  Something inside said to just
go get the cell phone and calm down. 

She wiped her hands on her apron
and started to walk when she heard a soft rapping sound.

She gasped for air and froze for a
second, staring at the man in the black sweatshirt as he stood at her door.  The
hood to sweatshirt was down and nothing about him looked suspicious other than
his eyes and attire.

“Excuse me!” he called.

Beth shook her head.

No, no…

“Ma’am?” the man yelled and knocked
again.  “Please…”

Beth’s heart raced as she stepped
from the counter.  She was then stuck between her next move.  If she turned and
ran for the back of the bakery, she could hide and hope the man left.  If she
walked to the door to help…

Beth sighed and realized she should
help the man.

She looked down at herself, hating
to do it, but she needed to. 

What gave her the right to judge
someone based on how they looked?  That’s what people had been doing to her
almost her entire life.  It felt strange how the couple seconds of hesitation
made her bring up old memories that pained her so much.  How cruel people were,
then and now.  How people looked at her, knew she owned a bakery, and just
assumed that she would be a heavier woman. 

The man knocked again at the glass
and when Beth looked at him, she could see pain in his eyes.

She pointed to the man and then
hurried to retrieve her cell phone.  She wanted to help him, if she could, but
she couldn’t be stupid either.  With her cell phone in her hand she walked to
the front door and asked the man what he needed.

“I need to call the police,” he
said.  “I was… attacked…”

Beth’s eyes looked up and down the
street.  It looked dark and quiet.  It looked normal and peaceful.  Hearing the
man say he was attacked, however, changed that view.  Dark meant dangerous and
normal meant anything but.

“Can you use your phone?” Beth
asked.  “I’ll stand here, in case.”