Rosaline Palmer Takes the Cake (Winner Bakes All, #1)

by Alexis Hall

every tiny station in every tiny village between Upper Whereinthehell and Who-Cares-on-the-Wold.

bumgrope had been a risky gambit, especially as the second thing you said to someone.

“I see we’ve progressed from innuendo to outuendo.

He offered her his hand, which Rosaline took with all the suavity of a woman who’d just been talking about wanking.

the man thought grammar was a nickname for an elderly relative.”

classic Bake Off LOL

But—crammed into the tiny kitchen with her daughter, covered in a range of ingredients Rosaline would swear they hadn’t been using—it was also one of the few things that made her believe everything was going to be okay. That maybe they were okay already.

why did they have to make the character with my name the homophobe </3

“I’m a big fan of keeping in touch with your exes. They’re like friends with the added bonus that you know what they look like naked.”

this line has a different meaning after finishing the book o.o

lmaoooo

Anvita pivoted towards Rosaline like a cannon on a warship.

“I don’t think he’s sad. I think he’s just eating a wrap.” “To be fair,” Ricky put in, “I had one of those wraps and it made me pretty sad.”

At this rate, it was looking like baking was going to rip her a new arsehole.

ew. that was shady

Rosaline could confront the fact that her dulce was probably writing cheques that her leche wouldn’t be able to cash.

“Fuck shit piss wank bollocks drink Coca-Cola buy Smeg ovens legalise cannabis abolish the monarchy. Oh sorry, did I ruin the segment? What a shame.

Rosaline inwardly face-palmed.

“Are you the one what got her covered in jam then?” “It builds creativity.” Harry shook his head. “It don’t, mate. It just attracts wasps.

“It was a first kiss. Some things take a while to build.” “It’s sex. Not Lego.”

Say what you would about the Palmers, they went all in on the Grandparenting.

unless, of course, she’d fucked it up so hard and so immediately that when she came back tomorrow she’d find her dough, instead of rising, had rearranged itself into the words “you suck.”

Rosaline’s afterglow got a whole lot less glow and a whole lot more after.

There was a pause that, while not quite pregnant, was definitely pissing on a stick.

this is so funny lmao

a baking-themed booty call?

She didn’t like to generalise, but dating men would be a lot easier if they’d admit when they were worried about something.

Claudia was not a hugger but this was television, so she didn’t get much choice.

Great. Shamed on TV by her own kid for being a biscuit bigot.

“I really feel like I’m letting the side down,” said Lauren, “because while I know a great many fabulous and talented lesbians, none of them are electricians.”

“I’m not a princess. Princesses are undemocratic.” “All right.” He paused. “’Allo…Prime Minister?”

love him <3

He was so blatantly the sort of man you were supposed to fancy that Rosaline felt deeply uncomfortable about fancying him.

He struck the universal tradesman pose of mild consternation.

HAHA

But they were all, in their own way, small people—which was one of the many things Lauren had in common with Napoleon.

And when everybody else is pantsing about making flowers out of bread you make an actual heart what bleeds because you’re a fucking weirdo.

“Well, baking’s a talent.” Harry gave half a smile and half a shrug. “And I reckon you’ve got enough challenges already. And if what you do makes you happy and makes other people happy, that should be enough of a difference for anybody.”

amen <3

She’d been running around like a blue-arsed fly since Tuesday,

Put it all together, and it was the kind of situation where the solution was Put your feet up and have a cup of tea, not Do me hard from behind.

the two-for-one special at Poundland

LMAO

“My cheeky Nando’s days are long gone. The best I can manage now is a grumpy Uber Eats.”

“You know there are more emotions than happy and sad, and that also you can have them about things that aren’t football?” “I think we’ve read different rule books, mate.”

It might not have been bollocks, but it was definitely in the scrotal region.”

Oh God, she was going to be Blululeuuh Girl now.

having disasters and being British about it was an integral part of the show,

true

Marianne Wolvercote was picking through the rubble of Rosaline’s bake like she was looking for survivors.

she knew, without even looking at it, would start with the line “Make choux pastry.”

And somehow, waiting and trusting her instincts had stopped being the most terrifying thing in the universe.

And she loved baking and the show made that okay. Made it into something that millions of people shared and appreciated and celebrated. Instead of something she did because she couldn’t be a doctor.

—the pause of someone trying not to fuck all over the BBC—

“I’ll be a ballsack for both of us.” Harry’s arm nudged gently against hers. “Mate, the things you say.”

“What’s a fleek?” “Nobody knows, darling,” drawled out Grace Forsythe. “It’s the Voynich manuscript of the modern age.”

I’d probably be willing to have a tumultuous fling with you.” “What makes you think it’d be tumultuous?” “Because I’ve met you.”