Cynthia Timoti > Quotes

“My condition isn't an impediment. I'm not defined by it, and it doesn't limit me. It doesn't make me less, or different, and even if I fail, I'll just get back up and try again. So please don't come back into my life, unless you understand it isn't yours to run.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“For a brief second, I wondered if I should go back to the kitchen and hide there until he went away.
No. Ellie 2.0 was made of stronger stuff. I steeled myself, viciously stomping on the tiny seed of hope that was beginning to sprout in my heart. My reasonable, levelheaded brain wisely advised that I should approach him with the caution I would reserve for great white sharks, taipan snakes, and saltwater crocodiles.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Until you realize you need to stop controlling my life, you can't be a part of it, and I can't be a part of yours."
She placed her cup back on the table, her gaze furious. "That's not the correct response. I'll give you five minutes to reconsider your answer."
"That was the right answer, and my final one. I'm staying, and no amount of emotional or physical blackmail can change my mind."
She let out a loud, impatient sigh. "Stop being dramatic. You're always acting as if I'm doing something horrible, but you know I'm only looking out for your best interests."
"No, you're not. All you care about is the family business, the status and privileges that come with it. You don't care about my best interests or my happiness."
Her tone turned frosty. "Listen carefully, Ellie. I'm saving you from making a terrible mistake. If you're doing this for him, it's not a smart decision, and you'll regret it. You don't belong here, and people like us don't belong with people like Alec Mackenzie."
"I'm doing this for myself." My tone rose. "You may not care, but I have a life here. I'm running my own business. I truly appreciate everything you've done for me and our family, but it's clear that you value the family business more than your own child. I've had enough of living my life being controlled and suffocated by you. It's time for you to move on.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Breakfast is on the table."
My brows shot up at the spread on the dining table. There was a stack of whole-grain toast, a jar of no-sugar-added strawberry jam, a bowl of oats porridge, some apple slices on a small plate, and a tub of blueberry yogurt next to it.
"No pancakes or waffles today?"
"I've read that low-GI foods are better for someone with diabetes. It raises your blood sugar gradually, right? I looked up some breakfast ideas last night and thought I'd give it a try."
Last night?I gaped at him. Was that before or after the humiliating event that shall now and forevermore be dubbed as The Kiss That Never Happened?
This was, hands down, one of the nicest things anyone had ever done for me.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“So... if you've opened the envelope, and you're here, does this mean you've forgiven me?"
I folded my arms and pretended to consider him. "Not yet. I'll have to think about it."
His mouth slowly curved into a smile. "Yeah?"
"Maybe I will forgive you. Just as long as you don't lord this... sacrifice over my head for the rest of our lives."
"I believe the correct term is a 'grand romantic gesture.' Like what the guy does at the end of a rom-com movie to win the girl back." A twinkle lit up his eyes. "So? How did I do?"
"Well, let's see. Grand romantic gesture, check. Big speech, check." I gave him an approving nod. "I think as far as grand gestures go, this was pretty epic. Nine out of ten."
He took my hands in his. "Only nine? I was expecting a full ten. I don't get any points for the customized cookies?"
"Maybe, if you'd baked them yourself. But you bought them."
"Trust me, if I'd baked them myself, you wouldn't want to eat them."
"And might I add, from my bakery. I should take points off for that."
His smile grew bigger. "It's the thought that counts, Ellie. And the idea was all mine."
I finally broke into a grin. "Fine, I'll give you a nine and a half.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Your favorite color is mint green. You like dramas and comedies. Can't stand gory movies. Hate carrot cakes but will never say no to brownies. You love all animals, except spiders. Your favorite candy is Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. You can't stand bullies and attention seekers. You'll try everything in life once, because you want to prove that you can live as normal a life as everyone else." He stopped at the dazed look on my face. "What? Have I got it all wrong?"
That was the problem. He didn't.
He got all of them right.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Instead of a relaxing bubble bath, I had a front-row seat to an impromptu striptease. By my ridiculously gorgeous fucking hot fake boyfriend.
The polite thing to do would be to close my eyes. Or yell out to announce my presence. Probably both. But I wasn't feeling very polite right now, so instead, I resurfaced and craned my neck to get a better look. Should have said something the minute he walked into the bathroom. I'd just wait this out--- it would be over in a few minutes.
Then he slipped out of those snug boxers, and my heart nearly stopped.
With his back facing me, he stepped into the shower, still oblivious that I was hidden in the corner bathtub, unable to take my eyes off him. Turning the faucet on, he drenched himself under the stream of hot water, before picking up my shampoo bottle, sniffing it, then squeezing out a generous amount. His hands worked methodically, kneading and massaging the shampoo all over his hair. Next, he pumped out blobs of my soap onto his hands, rubbing them together before lathering it all over his body. First on his neck, then on his arms, then on his back, followed by his chest.
This wasn't just your normal, everyday, run-of-the-mill striptease. It was a real-life porn movie, and I was enjoying it too much to tear my gaze away. He stretched his neck, trying to get water onto his left side, and turned around, giving me a full-length, uncensored, breathtaking view of a gloriously naked Alec.
So. Very. Naked.
His hands kept working, rubbing the soap on his stomach, then down his thighs, all around his legs and backside, making showering look so sexy like it was nobody's business.
That was when my mouth decided to betray my brain, producing a low, breathy sigh I'd never, ever heard before in my whole life, alerting him to my presence. Startled, he looked up and locked eyes with mine.
Wet, naked Alec Mackenzie caught me watching him rub soap all over his body.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Alec had stilled, his eyes slowly widening, his hands paused between his legs. Swallowing, I forced myself to blink, debating my next move. But before I could decide, his eyes turned darker, and his hands started moving again. My eyes followed them as he deliberately and slowly lathered more soap all over himself: his chest, his abs, then back between his legs, where a part of him stood up to attention.
Wet, naked Alec Mackenzie got hard watching me watching him rub soap all over his body.
I had never, ever been so turned on in my whole life. If I could fan myself, I would.
He took his sweet time rinsing the soap off, a seductive smile teasing the corners of his mouth. Reaching behind him to turn off the water, he stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around his waist, never once breaking eye contact with me. Then he strolled over and kneeled at the side of the bath, casually propping his dripping wet arm on the edge of the bathtub, his face only inches away from mine.
"I hope you enjoyed that." His voice, rough as gravel, rumbled in my ear. I shivered, as if he'd touched and caressed every single inch of my bare skin. Dropping his eyes to my mouth, he gave me one last sizzling look before standing up. "I sure as hell did."
Fuuuuuuuccckkkk.
He walked out without another word, and I let out a long, ragged breath. My heart made a huge, nonstop ruckus throughout Alec's performance, and it was a miracle I had survived the earth-shattering act.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Alec groaned as I curled my fingers around him, guiding him to my entrance. He slid in, just an agonizing inch, letting his tip graze me, giving me a preview of what was to come.
"Is this going to take all night?" I gasped as he pushed in a little deeper, but still not all the way in. "Because I would really prefer to keep things moving along."
"Why, do you have somewhere else more important to be?"
His grin was teasing, but his pupils dilated as I raised my hips to meet him, greedily commanding him to sink deeper.
"No, but you do." I moaned, as he did another circling motion at my entrance, teasing me, driving me wild. "Alec. You need to be inside me. Right now. Please."
The teasing grin disappeared, and in one swift motion, he plunged into me.
"God, Ellie," he breathed out. "You feel amazing."
He was hot and hard and slick, and felt so good. The cords on his neck stood out as he growled, straining to stay still, but I wriggled my hips to take him farther in. Alec let out another groan and began to move, sliding in and out slowly at first, the delicious friction between our bodies nearly sending me into oblivion, then faster, harder, as our sighs and his moans and my pleas of "more" filled the room. Our mouths found each other again, fusing and devouring, as he began to lose control, and before long, I was rocking and shivering against him, as his body shuddered together with mine.
And this time, I had truly died and gone to heaven.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“I opened my eyes to find a pair of eyes the color of matcha infused with lightly roasted cocoa beans, and framed by incredibly long lashes, peering down at me. From memory, I knew that the frown on his face hid a lone dimple on the left cheek. A faint scar cut through his right eyebrow, making him look like he'd been in a knife fight. Some people had argued that the overall combination could be called hot, but I wouldn't go that far. Maybe he could be classified as cute, at best, but I certainly wouldn't be caught dead saying that--- at least not within hearing distance. He smelled as nice as I remembered, too, like citrus, spice, and sunshine.
Him.
The last person on Earth I had expected to see.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“When the heavenly combination of sweet strawberries and gooey, fluffy pancakes exploded in my mouth, I let out a low, throaty moan that wasn't suitable for the breakfast table.
Those girls he was talking about? Yeah, they knew what was up, because honestly, who wouldn't want to be eating these for the rest of their lives? Just for the pancakes alone, I'd marry him in a heartbeat. Men who can cook are hot AF. He was an excellent cook.
Perhaps that first bite was a bit of a fluke. I was starving, so my tastebuds were probably warped. But when the second and third bites were followed by the second and third moans, it became obvious that his pancakes were making me experience something orgasmic.
In fact, the closest thing I'd had to a non-battery-operated orgasm in a while.
"Who are you?" I looked up to see him staring at me, his eyes darkening, and his fork suspended in midair. "Eric never mentioned his friend being a culinary genius."
He slowly lowered the fork, his eyes still on mine. "Told you so."
"Relax. I won't leap over this countertop and profess my undying love to you, or, God forbid, jump your bones." I speared the last piece, then wiped the remaining strawberry jam with it, making sure not to miss a single morsel. "Not even your pancake can make me like you."
"Maybe my homemade waffles could change your mind."
Glasses + pancakes + waffles? I could be in huge trouble.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“First of all, I'm an adult. A human being. Not a fucking baton you can simply pass back to my family once the going gets tough. Second, I am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Get that through your thick skull. I didn't need you, my family, or anyone else in the world to watch over me, or wait on me hand and foot." I paused. "And finally, I don't need someone who gives up on me after one hypo episode. Yes, they can be fatal. But it won't be if you learn how to manage them. It's not an excuse to freak out and pull the plug on a relationship. Do you know how many I've had since I was diagnosed? Hundreds. Maybe even thousands. And there's probably another few thousand in my future. It's part and parcel of having diabetes." I took a deep breath. "Obviously you're not the man I thought you were, because if you can't handle that, then we can't be together. I need someone who can be there for me, who's resilient enough to go through the ups and downs with me, because trust me, there will be plenty of them.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“Switching on the lights above the kitchen island, I turned on the stove and started melting some butter. I poured it into a mixing bowl, then added some monkfruit sweetener, an egg, a splash of vanilla extract, then whisked it until it became light and fluffy. And here was the twist I was planning: instead of Oreo and white chocolate, I was using matcha and dark chocolate as substitutes. The carbohydrate content in matcha was super low, so I wanted to experiment with different recipes using matcha powder, hoping to offer several items in that flavor at the bakery.
After adding some plain flour, baking powder, a pinch of salt, and some matcha powder, I mixed them all to form a dough, then added some dark chocolate chips and several crushed matcha cookies into the mixture.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice

“You sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine, really." He gave me a smile. "He didn't hit you, and that's all that matters."
And that was when it struck me. A realization so overwhelming, as if I were about to drown in the ocean behind me, the splashing waves refusing to let go until I gave in and acknowledged it.
That I was in love with this man.”
― Cynthia Timoti, Salty, Spiced, and a Little Bit Nice