Anna, Raphael, and New Orleans Beignets
A soft wind blew off the Mississippi, carrying with it the sounds of the French Quarter, as Raphael and I settled in at a table outside the cafe. Soft lights illuminated the space. The entire cafe smelled of sugar-coated, deep-fried dough. White powdered sugar dusted the ground under the cafe tables. The scent of chicory-flavored lattes filled the air. Outside the cafe, horse-drawn carriages rattled down the street, carting starry-eyed tourists around to see the sights.
"Beignets," the server, who had a soft creole lilt in her voice, said as she set down a red plastic basket overflowing with sweet pastries fried to a honey-gold hue, powdered sugar heaped on top like a mouth-watering mountain of goodness. "And two cafe au laits," she added, dropping off two white coffee mugs before she slipped back to the kitchen.
"Bon appetit," Raphael said, lifting his mug. He set the cup to his mouth then winked at me.
I lifted the coffee and inhaled deeply. The sweet scents of coffee, cream, sugar, and the light scent of chicory wafted off the brew. I took a sip, savoring the flavors. Divine. The slightly nutty taste of the coffee blended perfectly with the sugar and cream.
"Do the locals come here or only the tourists?" I asked.
"Everyone comes to the Quarter for beignets. Bourbon Street, well, that's a different story," he said, setting his coffee down.
If my ears could have fallen in love, they would have. His rich Cajun accent made my knees weak. I'd barely been in the Big Easy for two months, and somehow I'd managed to catch the attention of the best looking guy in my class at Tulane...and, an added bonus, he was a local. When he offered to show me around, how could I say no?
Raphael lifted one of the beignets and took a bite. The powder left a sweet shadow on his lips.
I giggled. "You have a little sugar...."
"Where?"
I tapped my lips.
Raphael leaned in toward me as if he wanted to kiss me. Nervous butterflies filled my stomach. We'd been dating for two weeks. It was time, but I still felt stupidly shy.
I laughed, grabbed my napkin, and wiped his mouth for him, causing him to smile. But I saw the disappointment behind his eyes. Ugh. What was I waiting for?
"Now you," he said, motioning to the basket.
Grabbing the pastry, I leaned over the basket and took a bite. The hot dough was crunchy on the outside but hot and sweet on the inside. The taste of sugar melted in my mouth alongside the buttery flavor of the crispy, sweet, fried dough.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "So good."
Raphael smiled, his eyes fixed on my face. "You have a little sugar..."
"Where?"
Raphael leaned toward me again, setting his hand on my knee. He slid his chair closer to me and gently reached out and touched my chin. "There," he said, looking at my lips.
This time, I didn't resist. He pressed his lips against mine. His mouth was hot and sweet. The taste of the sugar and coffee flavored his kiss, but somehow I imagined he tasted like that anyway. He stroked my cheek as he kissed me, and I started to feel dizzy from the heavenly sensation.
On the street outside, a saxophone player started blowing a sweet melody. Hot wind blew off the Mississippi, catching with it the scent of night-blooming jasmine.
When Raphael finally let me go, I sighed contentedly.
"Sweetest beignet I've ever had," he said, touching my cheek gently.
I shifted my chain and leaned against him, resting my head on his chest. "I think I'm going to love it here," I said, closing my eyes and listening to the sound of Raphael's heart beating alongside the sound dulcet tones of the New Orleans saxophone.
Turkish Delight: Paige and Aydin
The veranda outside the teahouse overlooked the dark blue waters of the Bosphorous which separated the European and Asian sides of Istanbul. We were sitting a small café table. It was early morning, and the air felt warm and damp, the sweet scent of the waters of the strait mingling with the smell of the breakfast spread out before me. At its edges, the skyline was trimmed pink with the last of the morning sunrise. Around me, the Turkish teahouse patrons laughed as they sipped their morning teas and coffees, the aroma of the drinks and the perfume of freshly baked bread hanging heavy in the air.
Aydin lifted a Kalamata olive and leaned in toward me. “Taste,” he whispered.
The morning sunlight made his honey-colored eyes sparkle, sunshine shimmering across the auburn lowlights in his dark hair. A stray breeze made his white shirt flutter open, revealing just a peak of his muscular chest. The view called to mind last night’s pleasures, the memory of which set my cheeks burning to rosy pink.
I parted my lips gently and let him put the tiny morsel in my mouth. The earthy taste of the olive, devoid of the packaged sharpness of added salt and MSG, made my palate spring to life. The freshly-picked olive melted on my mouth like liquid olive oil and sunlight rolled into one.
“Now this,” he said, lifting a small square of feta cheese. I closed my lips over his fingers, pausing to gently suck, then slowly moved the tasty tidbit into my mouth.
The salty tastes that bit my tongue, the tastes of both Aydin and cheese, made my lips quiver. I chewed slowly, letting the flavors linger, then swallowed.
“Do Turks always eat olives and feta cheese for breakfast?” I asked as I lifted my glass of hot Turkish tea by the rim, careful not to burn my fingers on the cup. Cautiously, I sipped the amber liquid which I’d sweetened with sugar as I eyed the plate in front of me: freshly baked bread with sesame seeds that was round in shape like a doughnut, simit, he’d called it, olives, feta cheese, almonds, and sliced tomatoes. On the table was fresh honey and heavy, plain white yogurt. It was a feast for the senses, and my American palette was tripping over itself to adjust. I’d only ever eaten feta cheese and olives in a salad or on pizza.
Aydin smiled then spooned sugar into his own glass tea cup. “Every day,” he said then leaned across the table and placed a sweet kiss on my lips. He cradled my cheek in the palm of his hand. “Paige…my beautiful American girl,” he whispered in my ear.
I returned the kiss, tasting his lips once more, then leaned back and stared into his honey-colored eyes. “And Aydin…my Turkish delight,” I replied with a smile.
Aydin laughed out loud. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close, kissing me on the head.
I exhaled deeply, feeling more content than I had in years. I gazed out once more at the Bosphorus, watching ships glide across the calm waters. A soft wind blew in, ruffling my air, and stirring up the spicy scent of Aydin’s cologne. Feeling dizzy and overcome with joy, I closed my eyes and savored the flavors swimming in my mouth, the best of which was the taste of Aydin’s kiss.
About the Author
Romance author. Cupcake connoisseur. Certified herbalist. Beach bum. Fan of all things Starbucks. Holistic healing advocate. Surfer girl wanna-be. Lost guru. Maker of dandelion wine. Counselor. Paranormal buff. Etsy addict. Secretly Jedi. So not a geek girl. Gifted in sarcasm. Hot wife. Ninja mom. And now, I'm ready to share a whole head full of witty, mouthy, smart, lovely, heart-warming, and hot characters with the world. Are you ready?
Poppy Lawless is the author of The Chancellor Fairy Tales. Poppy holds degrees in English and Psychology. She is a counselor in the field of mental health and is a trained herbalist. Poppy's new series blends the best of romance with a Practical Magic or contemporary Bewitched appeal.
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Table of Contents
The Chancellor Fairy Tales
The Glass Mermaid
Chapter 1: Kate
Chapter 2: Cooper
Chapter 3: Kate
Chapter 4: Kate
Chapter 5: Cooper
Chapter 6: Kate
Chapter 7: Cooper
Chapter 8: Kate
Chapter 9: Cooper
Chapter 10: Kate
Chapter 11: Cooper
Chapter 12: Kate
Chapter 13: Cooper
Epilogue
The Cupcake Witch
Chapter 1: Julie
Chapter 2: Horatio
Chapter 3: Julie
Chapter 4: Horatio
Chapter 5: Julie
Chapter 6: Horatio
Chapter 7: Julie
Chapter 8: Horatio
Chapter 9: Julie
Chapter 10: Horatio
Chapter 11: Julie
Chapter 12: Horatio
Chapter 13: Julie
Chapter 14: Julie
Chapter 15: Horatio
Chapter 16: Julie
Chapter 17: Julie
Chapter 18: Horatio
Chapter 19: Julie
Epilogue
The Bee Charmer
Chapter 1: Rayne
Chapter 2: Viola
Chapter 3: Rayne
Chapter 4: Viola
Chapter 5: Rayne
Chapter 6: Viola
Chapter 7: Rayne
Chapter 8: Viola
Chapter 9: Rayne
Chapter 10: Viola
Chapter 11: Rayne
Chapter 12: Viola
Chapter 13: Rayne
Chapter 14: Viola
Chapter 15: Rayne
Chapter 16: Viola
Chapter 17: Rayne
Chapter 18: Viola
Epilogue: Rayne
The Short and Sweet series
Antonio, Peach Bellinis, and Caprese Salad
The Picnic: Alice, Henry, and the Mad Hater
Anna, Raphael, and New Orleans Beignets
Turkish Delight: Paige and Aydin
About the Author
Table of Contents
The Chancellor Fairy Tales Boxed Set: Books 1-3 Page 24
