by Beth Ciotta
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To my family. In blood, in name, in heart.
You enrich my life and inspire my art.
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Recipes
Teaser
Also by Beth Ciotta
About the Author
Copyright
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Although I spend much of my time locked away in my writing room with my laptop and imagination, I am not alone in my literary journey.
My undying gratitude to my agent, my friend, Amy Moore-Benson, who keeps me sane.
A heartfelt thank you to my editor, Monique Patterson, who “gets me.” Your support and enthusiasm are priceless! Plus, how can I not be inspired by your avid love of cupcakes?
Thank you to Holly Blanck for her amazing energy and to my copy editor, Barbara Wild, for her continued caring expertise.
I’ve been blessed to meet a few of the warm and enthusiastic people who help to bring my stories to life via St. Martin’s Paperbacks, but there are so many more and I am grateful to each and every soul connected to the Cupcake Lovers series. A special shout-out to the art and marketing department, publicity and sales, and the entire editorial staff—Thank you!
My deepest appreciation to my critique partners Barb Justen Hisle (aka Elle J Rossi) and Cynthia Valero for being with me every day—in spirit and guidance.
A special thank you to my cyber-friend, Melissa Lapierre, a native of the Green Mountain State and a fellow lover of moose!
I’m blessed with an amazing support system of family and friends. You know who you are and I thank my lucky stars you’re in my universe!
To my friends (patrons and co-workers) at the Brigantine Library and my support system throughout the Atlantic County Library System … To my friends—readers, booksellers, and librarians—on-line and in life … Thank you for your fantastic support and enthusiasm.
To my husband Steve—my hero, my friend—I love you.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Though inspired by a northern region of Vermont, please note that Sugar Creek and the surrounding locations mentioned in this book are fictional. Escape and enjoy!
CHAPTER ONE
Seize the moment. Remember all those women on the Titanic who waved off the dessert cart.
—Erma Bombeck
“Delicious.”
“To die for.”
“Had me at the crystallized ginger.”
Rocky Monroe glanced around her grandma’s dining-room table, smiling as everyone sampled her cupcakes with a blissful moan, pumping a mental fist as every member of Cupcake Lovers—at least the ones in attendance—concurred. Her proposed contribution for the club’s Creepy Cupcake booth at the upcoming Spookytown Spectacular was a hit. She’d always had faith in her cooking skills, but when it came to baking there was nothing like a thumbs-up from the four senior members, Judy Betts, Helen Cole, Ethel Larsen, and Rocky’s grandma, Daisy Monroe, who’d been baking for charitable causes since before the Vietnam War.
“Brilliance, sweet pea.”
“Thanks, Gram.” Rocky’s generous, purple-haired grandma had hosted tonight’s meeting even though it was Rocky’s turn. Rocky’s home, which was also a bed-and-breakfast, was undergoing extensive renovations. So instead, they’d gathered at Gram’s humongous three-story colonial, a home brimming with folksy knickknacks, antique furnishings, and generations of Monroe family love. Personal nirvana for Rocky.
“I’m digging the gingerbread and pumpkin combination.”
This from Rocky’s cousin Sam McCloud, the only male member of the local baking society. He caught a lot of flack for that, especially from their male relatives, of whom there were many, including Rocky’s two older brothers, Luke and Dev.
“Yeah, but they’re not as creepy-cute as yours, Sam.” Rocky gestured to one of several cupcake platters on the table. Sam had made and rolled out his own colored fondant—orange, green, and white—then, after utilizing “monster” cookie cutters, molded the designs over the top of the cupcakes, using dark-chocolate frosting as his glue. “Jack-o’-lanterns, Frankenstein, and Ghouls. How great is that?”
“Can’t take the credit. My kids inspired me.”
Ben and Mina, eight and five, respectively.
“Still,” Rachel Lacey said, “who makes their own fondant? Not me. I’ve never mastered the technique.”
“I’d be happy to give you some tips,” Sam said. “Maybe some afternoon…”
Rocky held her breath as did the other ladies seated around the table. Sam, a widower of two years, had joined the club months ago. He’d claimed he’d wanted to broaden his horizons, to break out of his morbid funk. Maybe that was part of it, but everyone knew he had a crush on Rachel. Well, except for Rachel.
How the young woman could be so oblivious was a mystery to all. Or maybe she simply wasn’t interested and was too polite to say. Rachel, a day-care center’s assistant, was beyond polite. Still … Sam was former military, a master furniture maker, a really nice guy, good with children, and he baked! How could Rachel not be attracted? And why was he tiptoeing around his infatuation? Why not just ask her out on a date? But no, every once in a while he threw out these vague offers that Rachel kept sidestepping.
Not that Rocky was any expert in the romance department. Okay. She sucked in matters of love. And all right. Fine. Maybe she sucked at relationships in general. She’d certainly screwed up the perfect friends-with-benefits arrangement she’d shared with Adam Brody, a hunky, sweet-natured guy who freelanced as a recreational sports instructor. But that wasn’t her fault.
She blamed Jayce Bello.
Her first love. Her first lover. A physical and emotional firestorm that had warped Rocky’s perception of love and caused a severe rift between her and Jayce for thirteen years. Thank God he’d gone back to New York, after his recent and disastrous visit to town, so that she could get on with her life. Such as it was.
“That’s sweet, Sam,” Rachel said. “But I wouldn’t dream of imposing on your valuable time.”
Rocky blinked back to the present debacle: Sam’s lame attempts to ease his way into Rachel’s life and her shy reluctance to give him a shot. Rocky wanted to shake them both.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Sam,” Gram said. “Just ask her out already. Life’s short!”
The seventy-five-year-old woman’s motto for the past year and a half, the one that caused her to do foolish things like taki
ng Rocky’s snowmobile for a joyride or, most recently, veering off of a bike path and cycling down a hill at full speed. Both incidents had ended in a crash. Gram had yet to recover fully from the latter, still wearing a cast on her broken ankle and leaving her wearing only one trademark metallic sneaker at the moment. Her current motto also caused her to speak her mind when maybe she shouldn’t. Although in this instance, no one, including Rocky, hushed her. Nope. Everyone waited for Sam to get off his duff and take action while Rachel sat wide-eyed, her cheeks burning brighter by the second.
“Oh, the suspense.” Casey Monahan, part of the younger half of the club and as close to a buddy as Rachel allowed, elbowed Sam, who was doing one of his best silent glares at Gram, who just smiled.
Rocky, who was sitting on the other side of her cousin, nudged him with her knee.
Sam shifted his gaze to Rachel, though he at least ditched the death glare, just one of the intimidation skills he’d learned in the Marines. “This is awkward.”
“You want to go out with me?” Rachel’s voice was a disbelieving whisper.
“I was working my way up to asking.”
“Meanwhile,” Gram said, “hell was freezing over.”
The senior CLs snickered.
Casey and Monica rolled their eyes.
Rocky’s frustration shifted to sympathy. For her cousin, who’d lost the love of his life to cancer and hadn’t dated, even casually, since. And for Rachel, who was painfully shy and, when it came to her looks, infuriatingly insecure. So much so she’d refused to participate in a CL photo session a few weeks back. Why did love or even just plain dating have to be so damned complicated?
“Maybe you could go out for drinks?” Monica suggested.
“Why not dinner?” Judy asked.
“You should take her someplace nice,” Ethel said.
“But not too fancy,” Gram said. “Then you feel pressured about how dressed up to get and which fork to use.”
“Yeah.” Rocky slid her cousin a teasing look, hoping to ease the tension. “Wouldn’t want Sam obsessing on that.”
He grunted. “I know which fork to use.”
“Take her to the Sugar Shack,” Casey said, getting in on the action. “Comfortable surroundings, great food.”
Rocky agreed. Plus Luke, who co-owned and ran the place, would give their cousin and his date the star treatment. “Good idea.”
“What are you doing Saturday night?” Helen asked Rachel.
“Nothing. That is—”
“Sam will pick you up at six,” Gram said.
He shot the Monroe matriarch another one of those glares. “What if I had plans?”
Gram pushed her rhinestone-studded glasses up her nose and glared back. “Do you?”
“No, but—”
“I’ll be happy to babysit Ben and Mina,” Casey said with a smile.
“This is whacked.” Sam dragged a hand down his rugged face. Rolling back his broad shoulders, he adopted what was probably supposed to be a charming smile. His seduction skills were rusty at best. “Rachel, would you like to go out to dinner with me on Saturday night?”
Rachel smiled back, sort of. “Okay.”
Not an enthusiastic yes, Rocky thought, but not a rejection. As the president of the club, she used her position to move things along, saving Sam and Rachel from further embarrassment. She hoped. “Now that that’s settled, let’s get back to the Spookytown event. Which cupcake should we focus on as the giveaway for the kids?”
“I vote for Sam’s,” Casey said. “No offense, everyone. All entries were delish, but like Rocky said, Sam’s are just too creepy-cute. Totally appropriate.”
Rocky looked around the table. “All in favor?”
Everyone, including Sam, raised their hands.
“Settled,” Rocky said. “To be on the safe side, we’ll need approximately two hundred cupcakes for the Spooktacular goody giveaways.”
“The pumpkin spice cupcake recipe itself is simple,” Sam said. “As for the fondant…”
Gram, Helen, Ethel, and Casey volunteered.
“Great,” Rocky said. “So along with Sam, you four will tackle the monster fondant. Which leaves Monica, Rachel, Judy, and me to bake the cupcakes.”
“What about Tasha and Chloe?” Monica asked.
“Wild cards,” Rocky said while pouring everyone a fresh cup of Sweet Apple Chamomile Tea. “Wherever they want to focus their efforts is great.”
Chloe Madison, the new love of Rocky’s brother Dev, had recently graduated from a New York City culinary arts school. Although she specialized in cooking more than baking, her overall skills were incredible. In fact, she’d recently partnered with Gram to open a quaint café, which was why she wasn’t here yet. Detained on business.
As for Tasha … When it came to community and charitable events, Rocky tried to put aside her personal dislike of their former club president. At odds since high school, Rocky and Tasha had a long and ugly association. Complicating matters further, after the botched seduction of Rocky’s oldest brother, Dev, Tasha had set her sights on Randall Burke, a man thirty years her senior, the flipping town mayor. Last year, in a match that had set the town afire with gossip, Tasha had married into the Burkes, the most influential family in Sugar Creek, aside from the Monroes, intensifying her already bossy, arrogant, manipulative, and sometimes downright mean personality.
That said, Tasha made kick-ass cupcakes and had a history with the club that stretched back to her great-grandmother. Big on tradition and holding fast to the hope that maybe someday the thirty-year-old woman would mature into a kinder, gentler being (like her deceased mom and grandma), the club endured Tasha Burke like one endures a perplexing infection while awaiting a miracle cure.
Shaking off thoughts of Tasha-the-Pinhead Burke (as nicknamed by Gram), who was uncharacteristically absent from their weekly Thursday night meeting, Rocky set aside the teapot and reclaimed her seat.
She waited until Sam finished passing around his recipe cards, another tradition, before proposing her next idea. “I was thinking, since we’ll have our own booth at the Spectacular, in addition to the free cupcake treats for the kids, maybe everyone could contribute a dozen or so cupcakes, utilizing the pumpkin theme, which we’ll sell—proceeds earmarked for the day-care center.”
“Great idea,” Sam said.
“Dandy,” said Gram. “Put me down for two dozen of my Pumpkin Walnuts.”
Smiling, Rocky penned a list as everyone chimed in.
Rachel cleared her throat. “Wait. That’s a lovely thought, but Gretchen’s sort of touchy about contributions. She has her own way of doing things and she’s keen on obtaining a grant.”
Gretchen Tate, owner of Sugar Tots and Rachel’s boss.
“Those things take time,” Rocky said kindly, “and from what you’ve told us the center could use some immediate upgrades. We can at least contribute to the playground fund you mentioned.”
“I think Gretchen intends to reach out to local businesses.”
“Smart,” Helen said. “Meanwhile, let us help a little, Rachel, honey. That’s what we do.”
It was what Rocky loved most about Cupcake Lovers—their camaraderie and charitable efforts. Founded in 1942, the social club had gathered weekly to share sweets, tea, and news from their loved ones who’d gone off to fight in WW II. As a way to boost morale and to share a taste of home, the group began shipping cupcakes to soldiers. Over time, the club evolved and, in addition to spreading joy overseas, they also started organizing local charitable events.
“It’s settled then,” Rocky said. “A week to prepare and—”
“Sorry I’m late, Sweet Peeps, but wait until you hear my news!”
Sweet Peeps? Rocky rolled her eyes at the pretentious greeting, then turned and frowned. Decked out in four-inch heels and a formfitting dress that highlighted her curves—some cultivated by a personal trainer, others, like her big, pert breasts, compliments of surgery—Tasha blew into the room, commanding e
veryone’s attention. As always.
“Did you just walk into my house without knocking?” Gram asked.
“I knew I was expected.” Tucking her sleek, black hair behind her diamond-studded ears, Tasha took a seat at the head of the table. There were two other empty chairs, but oh no, she assumed a seat of authority.
I should have sat there, Rocky thought. If for no other reason than to rob Tasha of the opportunity. “We were discussing our efforts for next week’s Spookytown Spectacular,” Rocky said, vying for control.
“I vote for whatever everyone else voted for,” Tasha said with an I-couldn’t-care-less smile. “Now for my news! Brett called. The collective powers-that-be at Highlife Publishing loved our proposal for Cupcake Lovers’ Delectable Delights—Making a Difference One Cupcake at a Time.” She squealed and applauded. “We’re going to contract, Sweet Peeps!”
Rocky bristled. If she calls us that one more time …
“Incredible,” Judy said.
“Unbelievable.”
“Seriously?”
“Wow.”
Similar sentiments followed, including Sam’s, “Freaking A.”
Rocky remained skeptical. A brainchild of Tasha’s, this project reeked of disaster. That it was actually one step closer to realization only amped Rocky’s misgivings.
Three weeks ago, at the urging of Tasha, who at the time had been their leader, the club had submitted a proposal for the recipe book—enhanced by photos, the history of the club, and heartwarming accounts—to Highlife, a New York publisher specializing in nonfiction. The entire process had been a hassle, complicated by Tasha’s controlling nature and rabid quest for fame that had resulted in the members demanding she relinquish her role as president. Rocky, who’d been appointed as the new president, had secretly hoped the self-absorbed witch would quit the group entirely.
Ha.
If Rocky were paranoid, she’d think the woman had retained her membership solely to make Rocky’s life hell. Not that her life had been a picnic lately even without Tasha’s influence, but that wasn’t the point. Clearly the main reason the narcissistic woman had swallowed her pride was because she was banking on this publishing deal. Apparently, marrying the town mayor (who was stinking rich and influential) hadn’t quenched Tasha’s thirst for power and glory. Not that there was much glory to be had in their small town.
