A Legend in the Baking Quotes

“Her delicate, nimble fingers stroked across his stomach muscles. He sucked in a breath, words deserting him. She pushed his shirt up his chest, her hands immediately going back to sweeping across his stomach, sending heat streaking through him.
"Ooh, someone's been working out. You feel so good," she murmured. "I bet you taste even better."
"Sloane." Instead of the semi-warning tone he was going for, his voice broke off in a quiver as she lowered her mouth.
The first touch of her lips on his abdomen sent his pulse skyrocketing. "I was right. You taste so good." She lifted her glittering eyes. "Let me play."
This was her party. She was feeling good. He wanted to flip their bodies and taste every inch of her body, but she wanted this. And he wanted whatever she wanted. He nodded, since talking was beyond him at the moment. He sat up to whip his shirt over his head, then returned to his prone position. He was immediately rewarded with her mouth on his neck.
"You have the best Adam's apple," she murmured. "I've lusted after it for over a decade."
His laughter turned into a moan when her lips and hands continued exploring. "The veins in your forearms turn me on," she whispered. "I command you to wear dress shirts every day and then as soon as you see me, roll up your sleeves very slowly, so I can lust after them in public."
"Got it.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“She died when I was seven,”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“If you take one thing from me, let it be this. No one is unlovable. That doesn't mean love is going to land in your lap. You have to be open to it. You have to be honest. You have to be vulnerable.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“Do you think she would've encouraged me to come see you if she didn't see a future with you? If she wasn't concerned about you? If she didn't realize you were still carrying some hurt from the past? I would say she knows you pretty damn well. She doesn't even have to see or talk to you to know you're beating yourself up. And back to your earlier point, she never once mentioned anything about a job or interview to me. That doesn't sound like a woman who's putting her career above a relationship to me. I saw her when she came to my book signing. She looked devastated. She kept asking me if I thought you'd be okay. She was concerned she'd hurt you."
Hope began to unfurl in his chest, but he kept quiet, not fully trusting it yet.
Clearly sensing his hesitancy, Melinda modded. "It's not every day a girlfriend reaches out to an ex-wife. Are you sure she doesn't love you?"
No, he wasn't. And it was the best damned feeling in the world. Hope had turned into certainty. Letting go of the past was the only way to move forward into the future.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“People aren't perfect, Sloane. Once you understand that, it makes accepting their shortcomings and mistakes a little easier.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“She pressed against him, the thrust of her hips no longer moving in a measured circular motion, but a jagged, erratic, desperate motion. She was near the edge.
"August, August," she repeated over and over like she was in a trance. He twisted his fingers inside her and ground the palm of his hand against her, right against her clit. He pinched her nipple with his other hand.
Her back arched as she came against his fingers, her body shaking, her eyes dazed with wonder and joy as a loud, prolonged cry spilled from her lips. Watching Sloane come was one of the top highlights of his life.
But they weren't done.
Once again, he turned their bodies. This time, Sloane landed underneath him. He hastily procured a condom from the nightstand drawer, donned it, and covered Sloane's warm, tempting body in less than ten seconds. She welcomed him back with open arms. He wasted no time, thrusting inside her in one smooth glide. He burrowed his head in her shoulder as his skin buzzed with lust. How had he denied himself for this long? Being with her like this left nirvana in the dust. Then she twined her legs around his waist and lifted her hips.
"Oh, shit." How was it possible that this position felt even better?
"August, please. Move."
"Yes, ma'am." Her wish would always be his command. Her cries of harder, faster urged him on. She liked hard, long strokes. He could do this for the rest of his life if that's what she wanted. Each time she whimpered when he retreated, only to cry out in ecstasy when he returned, made his heart soar. Made his determination to make it even better for her to soar.
The tingle started at the base of his spine and spread to his extremities. He wouldn't last much longer. But not without her. Never without her. He kissed her again and found her clit. When she got close, she liked him to press hard against the bundle of nerves.
With her cries ringing in his ears, he came, stars shooting across his eyes, shaking with the intensity of the orgasm.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“Being inside her was his second priority. His first? Making her come so hard against his fingers she'd feel the aftershocks for days.
August slipped a finger inside her. Her hips' movement quickened.
"Just like that, August." Her moan acted as rocket fuel to his lust. He added another finger, sliding in and out of her. His plan had been to go slow, but shit, she was so tight and so fucking wet and it felt so damned good. She squeezed her inner muscles around him. He bent his fingers, rubbing against the spot inside her that made her go wild. With his other hand, he rubbed circles around her clit.
"Shit, Sloane," he gritted out when her hand wrapped around his dick. This was supposed to be all about her.
"Two can play this game," she whispered in his ear. "I bet I can make you come before you make me come."
He was a professional athlete. Competitiveness flowed through his veins. "You're on."
Two minutes later, he was questioning his life's choices. He'd been so sure he could win this bet. Why? His hubris was going to be the death of him, but what a way to go. Her fingers were magical.
"Shit," he moaned when she rubbed some of her wetness along the head of his dick and then up and down his length. Just following the movement of her fingers nearly short-circuited his brain. Her fingers moved a little easier, up and down with one hand and squeezing with the other. She knew he didn't like a gentle hand. He was fucking close. But not yet. Not yet. Not until he'd given her all the pleasure he could. Not until he made her feel more than she'd ever felt.
They fell into a decadent rhythm, fully intuned to the other. She moved her hand up and down his length at the same tempo he slid his fingers in and out of her, just like they would if she was riding his dick. He was so fucking close. August ground his teeth into dust. In due time.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“Sloane gasped at the amazing sensation. At the stretch and pull. Had anything felt so good in the history of ever? Their eyes met when he was fully inside. He felt it too. How perfect this all was.
Then they were kissing again as August slid in and out of her in a slow, perfect rhythm. His fingers rubbed against her clit. She was so close. So close.
But the couch's width only allowed a certain amount of movement. She needed more. She hummed her frustration. Her hum increased in volume when he slid out of her without returning.
"Shh," he murmured. Then, before she could blink, she was draped over the arm of the couch and he was thrusting into her from behind.
Oh, wow. This was better. She hadn't thought that was possible, but she was thrilled to be proven wrong. This angle allowed him to go deeper. Fill her completely. He twisted his hips, changing the angle slightly. It was too much. Perfect. Unyielding.
She turned her head for another wild, incandescent kiss. He filled his hands with her breasts, alternatively massaging and pinching her nipples. Through it all, his hips never stopped their magical motion. Sensations were bombarding her from every angle, leaving her gasping for air.
"Touch yourself," he commanded in her ear. It didn't occur to her to argue. Even as he continued to thrust in and out of her, she eagerly slid her fingers between her slick folds, coating her digits in her wetness.
Pleasuring herself was nothing new. Men were often temporary, but vibrators were forever. But this, being with August while she saw to her own pleasure, was amazing. Her clit, now so sensitive, sent bolts of feeling through her as she rubbed it the way she'd mastered over the years.
"That's right. Get yourself off while you ride my dick." His low, deep voice in her ear spurred her on as he twisted her right nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through her body. She cried out in ecstasy as she moved in tandem with him, pushing her hips down as he thrust inside her. She wanted to give him all that he was giving her. His tortured groan was everything she wanted to hear.
"My dick loves how wet you are.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“His shoulders corded with muscle. His mouth between her legs. A portrait that belonged in the Louvre. A quick flick of his tongue had her seeing stars. Then, a slower swipe had her wishing for more. Sloane's mouth dried.
He alternated between faster and slower swipes, taking his cues from her. He nibbled, then bit. Faster when the movement of her hips slowed. Slower when she came perilously close to the edge. Beautiful torture. His mouth on her was a million times better than she'd ever imagined. He was a certified master with his tongue.
She bucked, begging him for more. Demanding more. Sweat slickened her skin. Her hands slipped on the sofa cushions, searching for purchase.
Through it all, he was there. August and his wonderful tongue. Her eyes squeezed shut as delicious sensations bombarded her from every direction.
Then his fingers, long and immeasurably talented, joined in the action between her legs. He was so slow and deliberate, going at his own pace, despite her demands. And she fucking loved every second of it.
He held his tongue tight against her clit as he sank three fingers inside her. In and out. The sensations inside her twisted tighter and tighter, pushing her higher and higher.
Until she broke, splintering into a million jagged pieces.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“He slid a finger down her folds. Her panting increased in volume. Her hip movements increased in pace as she chased his finger. He found her clit and circled it with his thumb, as he pushed inside her with his middle finger. Her inner walls clasped tightly on to the digit. He groaned at the heavenly sensation. He dragged his finger in and out, savoring the feeling. Her hips moved in tandem with the movement of his finger.
Her hold on his shirt tightened when he rubbed against a spot high inside her. Her hips bucked forward. A tiny moan slipped from between her lips before she pressed her mouth shut. Not on his watch. He wanted it all.
"Don't hold back. Tell me," he demanded.
"Feels so good," she whimpered, the fucking sexiest sound he'd ever heard.
"I can make it better."
He wedged another finger inside her. And pressed gently against her clit.
He swallowed her scream with his mouth. The kiss was wild, greedy. Lips, tongue, teeth sliding, clinging, giving, demanding pleasure. She tasted like heaven, offering all the sustenance he would ever need.
Her hips picked up speed. She was so fucking tight wrapped around his fingers. How good would his dick feel inside her? Incredibly, he got even harder. As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, her hands landed on the front of his jeans. She squeezed once, twice.
He almost detonated. "Sloane. Sweetness. Please."
She didn't need his plea. Instead, she pulled his zipper down and slipped her fingers inside. He didn't have the willpower to stop her. Her hand wrapped around his dick was so fucking good. She pulled up and down, exerting the perfect amount of pressure to have him gasping as pleasure sang through his veins.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“How had he denied himself the joy she brought to his life for so long? She cut off his laughter with her mouth. The cream and taste of lemon still lingered on her tongue. So damned sweet. Sweeter than pure honey.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“She couldn't help but be aware of the man at her side as he picked up books and read the descriptions on the back. He held one up with a man staring off into the distance, hands on hips. "What about this one?"
Sloane wrinkled her nose. "Oh, you mean men's fiction? I've read it, but it's not really my thing."
He lifted a brow. "Men's fiction?"
"You know how they have women's fiction because it could only be of interest to women? The same thing happens with men. But they don't call it men's fiction. It's just fiction, because of course both men and women, and all genders alike, are always enthralled by whatever men are doing as they seek to find themselves and the true meaning of life."
"Sexism, in literature, you mean."
"Yes!”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“Sloane inhaled deeply as she stepped into the bookstore. A joyous scent filled her nostrils. She loved the smell of books. Clean and crisp and woodsy and yet not like a man. Sloane's lips quirked.
There weren't many places that ranked above bookstores for her. So many adventures waited on the glorious wooden shelves.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“She wanted to climb him like a tree. Wanted to feel his hardness between her legs, giving her pleasure. She moaned in approval when he slipped a leg in between hers and rubbed against the spot desperate for attention. She was greedy, unashamed, uninhibited riding his thigh. Their tongues tangled together, sliding against each other in the same slow, determined rhythm as their lower body parts.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“He wasn't wearing a shirt. Alert, alert! August Hodges was not wearing a shirt.
Her greedy eyes inhaled the wall of delicious flesh that defined his magnificent back. Muscles rippled in perfect synchronized motions as he lifted his arm. Scrumptious, delicious brown skin her lips and tongue longed to taste. Dampness instantly settled between her legs.
She must have made a whimper full of intense hunger, or maybe he just sensed he was no longer alone--- and she was going to go with the second, less embarrassing option--- because he turned. Holy fuck! The front was better than the back. He was a professional athlete who took his fitness seriously (even though he owned a cupcake shop franchise), so she shouldn't be shocked by how fucking good he looked. But it was one thing to be intellectually aware of something and another to be confronted with it up close and personal. A quick perusal registered an eight-pack. A trail of hair bisected his abs and led to... She jerked her eyes upward.
His eyebrows lifted. "Sloane?"
His tone was amused. No doubt her tongue was hanging out her mouth like a dog eagerly tracking the bowl of water its parent carried.
Dignity. She needed to find it, and soon. She lifted a hand as he reached for the teal Sugar Blitz polo on his desk. Let a mocking, flirty smile spread across her lips. "Please stop on my behalf."
He shot her a look. "I do so appreciate being treated like a piece of meat."
The finest, rarest cut of beef. Filet mignon.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“If you don't have rhythm, it's okay. It's a little embarrassing, but I can keep a secret."
"I have rhythm," he growled.
Her face blanked. She licked her lips, her eyes sweeping up and down his body. Where had her mind gone? Was she thinking about their kiss and other ways he could demonstrate rhythm? Ways they could find rhythm together?”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“They know you're a football player and part owner of a cupcake shop. But that's what you do, not who you are."
Beautiful, impactful words from a beautiful, impactful woman.
She stopped when she noticed him watching her. "Sorry, I talk with my hands. It helps me think."
He knew. She was in her element. It was the sexiest thing he'd ever been fortunate to witness.
"I'm going to give them that," she continued. "And that's going to lead to them coming down here to buy cupcakes and put money in y'all's pockets. You want to be a star, right?"
No. "Yes."
But he was committed. It was time for him to come out of the shadows. Time to take control of his life and make himself worthy of... His eyes flickered to Sloane. Make himself worthy of someone to love.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“A few months ago, I found some of her journals."
"Oh, that's dope."
His voice lightened with happiness. "Yeah, she was really funny. And she loved cooking all types of food, but baking was her first love."
"Do you bake?"
August scoffed. "Me? No, I'm no good in the kitchen."
"Maybe you should. To honor her memory."
He paused for a second. When he spoke, his voice was soft. "Maybe I should.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“According to you, I'm manly because I play football, but I'm unmanly because I own a cupcake shop. Which is it? I'm the same person."
Dude's mouth flopped open like a guppy's.
August still didn't care. "Also, according to you, baking is women's work, which means it's beneath a man to do. Did you know cupcakes is a three-billion-dollar industry? You know who made that happen? Women. Women who knew that bringing joy to people's lives was a worthy endeavor."
He unleashed all the words he bottled up every time he spoke to his dad.
"You think men have to live up to this ridiculous, harmful definition of what being a man is. Heaven forbid people be happy and do what they want. My partners-- also manly football players, by the way-- and I decided to open a shop because the women in our lives shared the joy of baking with us, and in our small way we're continuing and honoring their legacy. We are doing our damnedest to be men the women in our lives can be proud of. So I suggest you go and try and to do the same.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“Once upon a time she'd thought he'd had the most beautiful pair of eyes she'd ever seen. They were the color of a deep maple. She'd spent way too much time as a besotted teen trying to pinpoint the exact color. Molasses was too light, chocolate too dark.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking

“Drawn to the oven like bees to nectar, she marched across the room.
Until a butt entered her line of vision. An exceptional butt. Extraordinary, really. Perfectly rounded and muscular. Biteable.
Sloane halted. Suddenly, finding her brother or getting to cupcakes were no longer her top priorities. Time to appease a different type of hunger. One she didn't allow herself to indulge in much because embarrassing the shit out of herself once was more than enough times to last a lifetime. Yeah... but this was different. The owner of the butt couldn't see her, so ogling was allowed.”
― Jamie Wesley, A Legend in the Baking