by Lacey Baker
1 teaspoon baking powder
1¼ teaspoons salt
2¾ cups granulated sugar
1¼ cups butter, softened
2½ teaspoons almond extract
5 eggs
1 cup evaporated milk
½ cup powdered sugar*
Directions
1. Heat the oven to 350°F. Generously spray a 10-inch angel food tube, 12-cup fluted tube cake pan, or Bundt pan with butter-flavored cooking spray.
2. Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt; set aside.
3. Beat the sugar, butter, almond extract, and eggs in a large bowl with an electric mixer on low speed for 40 seconds, scraping the bowl constantly. Beat in the flour mixture alternately with the milk on low speed. Pour into the pan.
4. Bake 1 hour, 15 minutes or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes away clean. Cool. Remove from the pan to cool completely on a wire rack 45 minutes.
*Sprinkle with powdered sugar.
*Optional.
Southern Seaside Fried Chicken
2 cups buttermilk
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 whole chicken, cut into pieces
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
3 tablespoons Old Bay seasoning
5 cups vegetable or peanut oil, for frying
Directions
1. Whisk together the buttermilk, mustard, salt, pepper, and cayenne in a bowl. Add the chicken pieces, making sure each piece is generously coated with the marinade. Tightly cover the bowl with two layers of plastic wrap and refrigerate 3 to 6 hours.
2. Combine the flour, baking powder, and Old Bay Seasoning in a resealable plastic bag. Transfer a few pieces of marinated chicken at a time (breasts should go in one at a time) into the plastic bag of dry ingredients and shake well to ensure complete coverage.
3. Repeat the process by submerging the coated chicken pieces into the buttermilk marinade again, then into the dry ingredients, shaking well to ensure complete coverage once more.
4. Heat the oil in a large frying pan over medium-high heat until a dab of flour in the oil begins to bubble. Fry the chicken in the hot oil until the juices run clear and the chicken is golden brown, turning periodically to allow even browning.
Read on for an excerpt from Lacey Baker’s next book
Just Like Heaven
Coming soon from St. Martin’s Paperbacks
The backyard wasn’t exactly what Heaven expected. It was huge, which she should have assumed since the inn with the restaurant neatly tucked into its side would easily take up half the block of the street she lived on in Boston.
What surprised her was all the lush green grass. It went on for what seemed like miles and miles only to drop suddenly into big gray rocks that formed a slope right down to water she assumed, from her minimal knowledge of Maryland, was the Chesapeake Bay.
“The Bay is really pretty from here,” she said quietly but didn’t mean for him to hear or to actually respond.
“That’s the Miles River. It’s a tributary to the Bay so I guess it’ll accept the compliment,” was his bland reply.
A response that almost had the effect of cold water splashing onto the minute rise in her body temperature at his proximity. It was ridiculous, she knew, to feel any type of reaction to a man she’d just met, especially since their meeting was the furthest thing from a hook-up. Admittedly, men and interacting with them were not Heaven’s forte. She accepted that just as she accepted all the other ups and downs of her life, and normally it didn’t bother her. But today, with this man …
She shook her head, closing her eyes momentarily and reminding herself again that she didn’t like this man. The decision came quickly and decisively and all other thoughts of Preston Cantrell sifted slowly away as she opened her eyes and looked to her left where there was a large gated area containing six puppies and one adult Labrador Retriever. Just beyond their outdoor playpen was a lovely white gazebo that was the exact image she’d seen in the pamphlet she’d flipped through on her ride into town. From the airport Heaven had had to hire a car service to bring her the hour-and-ten-minute drive to Sweetland. The service was apparently familiar with the town because it had a lot of literature about it in the pouch behind the passenger-side seat.
“Which one is Coco?” she asked, stepping down from the two steps and planting her feet solidly in the plush grass.
Today, for a change, she’d forgone the pant suit or skirt and jacket she normally wore. This time, because this appointment was purely about her and her personal contentment, and since she was desperately trying to separate the Heaven who used to work twelve- to eighteen-hour days from the Heaven who someday wanted a real life, and because the airline had lost her luggage so she could not change, she wore a more casual outfit. As of right now, her wardrobe didn’t really consist of a lot of casual pieces but she’d found this pair of jeans and a shirt and figured that was sufficient. On her feet she’d decided on flats, leather, sensible. Now, she wished she’d had something more feminine, more summer-like and open-toed so she could feel what she assumed was coolness from the soft-looking blades.
“How long are you staying in Sweetland?” he asked as they walked towards the playpen.
Heaven had forgotten he was there. Or at least she’d tried to. He wasn’t making much effort to conceal the fact that he didn’t really want her to take his dog. But if that was the case, why put the ad online? Stop it! It’s not your job to analyze him or anybody else for that matter.
It had only taken two months of intense psychotherapy three times a week to get her to accept that point. And her trip to this small Eastern Shore town was part of her recovery. She had to keep reminding herself of that fact.
“Long enough to take care of all the remaining legalities of adopting Coco,” she told him. She’d already filled out an adoption application, submitted it, and had a telephone interview and a house visit by one of the LovingLabs liaisons. This was the next to final step, meeting the Lab she’d fallen in love with. After this, there was just the signing of the adoption contract and receiving temporary licensing and tags. Then she and Coco could be on their way. She hoped all that could be handled today, but was prepared to find a hotel and stay overnight if need be.
“We both have to sign the contract,” he told her matter-of-factly.
“You’re the one who listed her on the website as available. That was a foolish idea if you really don’t want to give her up,” she replied with a tinge of annoyance.
They’d stopped right at the gate and reluctantly she looked up at him. He was too handsome, she told herself. That was another reason she didn’t like him. Handsome men were trouble and, for the most part, ignored Heaven like the plague. And he looked dangerous, not like he was going to turn around and choke her. That would be insane and later she would admonish herself for being overly dramatic. But right now, she couldn’t help but look at him, at his dreamy dark brown eyes and thick neat eyebrows. He had an easy smile—or he had when he’d answered the door and when his sister had first entered the room. His complexion was almost golden, as if he spent a lot of time in the sun, and his hair was raven-black, cut short, waving a bit on the top.
She was in the process of gritting her teeth and trying to look away from him when he spoke again.
“I knew what I was doing when I listed her.”
He didn’t sound so much annoyed now as he did thoughtful. But Heaven didn’t want to think too hard on the emotional state of Preston Cantrell. His physical state was already wreaking havoc with her senses. “That’s good to know,” she finally replied.
They were standing at the gate, side by side, when Preston leaned forward and flipped the latch. The minute the gate was open, every one of the puppies bounded for the exit, big feet and floppy ears whizzing past Heaven so fast she couldn’t help but let out a full-b
odied laugh. Something she hadn’t done in a very long time.
It took about two minutes for her to figure out what had been an explosion of too-cute and adorably furry little feet running through the grass was not as hilarious as she’d first thought. Or at least, Preston didn’t think so.
He ran after one puppy, stooping to scoop it up in his arms, then immediately bounding in the opposite direction for another. She figured she should help or meeting Coco might take even longer. A couple of steps, she’d barely broken into a run and her hand was easily slipping beneath the collar of the adult Lab. Its pug nose and milk-chocolate brown eyes stared up at Heaven, inciting another smile and a warmth that started a small swarm in the pit of her stomach.
Ushering her back to the pen, Heaven secured the gate, then took off to find another one of the runaway pups. In the midst of the hide ’n seek she played with the one pup that had found shelter behind a fat and cheerful azalea bush, she allowed herself to once again forget about her handsome host. Until she heard him curse loudly as he took off after another puppy. The curse didn’t sound friendly or as remotely cheerful as she’d begun to feel during her merry little chase. Her smile had only faltered slightly as she decided to give Preston a hand.
He’d run all the way across the yard, down to where the border of rocks started the incline. It didn’t take her long to catch up as she’d run track and field in high school, one of the few times she’d had a rebellious moment against her parents and won. By the time she hit the rocks, Preston had already begun his trek down, taking slow steps, one in front of the other. The puppy, with its large feet and flopping ears, seemed to smile up at Preston; with each step the human took forward, the pup took one back.
“Come here, you little nightmare!” Preston yelled.
The puppy’s ears flopped and one of his back feet slipped on a rock. Heaven gasped.
“Maybe you should talk nicely to him, coax him to come back up,” she suggested.
“I know how to handle this,” he snapped back.
Heaven didn’t bother gasping, it was no secret to her that men didn’t like to be told what to do, especially by a woman—even though in her experience with them, men rarely knew what to do on their own. Still, that was fine and good for Mr. Rude-Arrogant-And-Totally-Hot. She wouldn’t tell him what to do again. She’d simply show him.
“Here, cutie pie,” she coaxed, taking her first step down onto the rocks. “Come on, girl, come on.”
Her voice was soft as she moved slowly. The puppy had stopped its descent, flopping down onto his bottom and staring up at her expectantly.
“That’s a good girl. That’s a good puppy. You’re such a pretty little one.” The puppy looked like she was lapping up every word so Heaven continued until she was just an arm’s reach from the puppy.
Now she would show Preston Cantrell that she knew what she was talking about, that she could certainly handle a puppy and that he … Heaven’s words were lost somewhere on the rocks with her balance as she toppled into the chilly river.
* * *
Preston saw it coming about three seconds before it happened. He’d already cursed and taken another step to catch her when Coco stood abruptly and, with her always playful and mischievous manner, dived feet first, ears following, into the water. Heaven reached for her and toppled over the last couple of rocks into the water right along with the puppy.
With a curse, Preston made it to the bank, reaching into the water to grab Coco before she could swim away. Beside him, Heaven spluttered, wiping her long hair back out of her face. Her blouse was plastered to her chest and what a delectable chest it was. Hell, he thought with a pang of lust so potent he almost fell back on his own butt gaping at her.
“If you laugh, I’ll punch you,” she said, her eyes narrowing to mere slivers as she glared at him.
Preston put Coco down on the rocks and pointed directly at her. “Stay,” he said firmly, then turned back to Heaven.
“I wouldn’t think of laughing,” he told her with as straight a face as he could manage. Fifteen years ago, he would have gaped and probably panted like Coco was presently doing. Now, he remained stoic, or at least he hoped that’s what he was doing.
“Let me help you,” he offered, extending a hand to her.
“I don’t need—” she had begun to say, then her narrow gaze shifted and a small smile touched the edge of her mouth. “Thank you, Mr. Cantrell.”
She reached for his hand, clasped the palm, and Preston instantly knew how this would end.
The splash of cold water wasn’t a total shock; still his body did a little jolt as he too was submerged into the river. She had some strength to her, this pretty, sexy, wisp of a woman. He hadn’t expected that, nor had he really expected she would have the balls to pull him into the water. But she had and Preston was mystified at his reaction to it all.
When she tried to make her way to the bank, standing because the water level at the entry of the river was only about three and a half feet high, he got another glimpse of her extremely fine backside and had an idea of his own. He was just about to reach for her, about to take her by the waist and pull her back into the water with him. It had been a long time since he’d frolicked in the water with a wet and willing female—even though he admitted he might have to work on the willing part with her. But Coco had other plans. The hyperactive dog disobeyed Preston’s direct order and bounded back into the river, waddling until she was splashing water all over Preston and giving Heaven the time she needed to get safely onto the rocks.
When he finally made his way out of the river, Coco tucked tightly under his left arm, Preston was no longer in a laughing mood. Heaven had just cleared the rocks when he grabbed her by the arm.
“Heaven Montgomery, meet Coco. Coco, meet Ms. Montgomery,” he said, thrusting the puppy into Heaven’s arms before stalking off.
About the Author
Lacey Baker, a Maryland native, lives with her husband and three children in what most would call Suburban America, a townhouse development where everybody knows each other and each other’s kids. Family cook-outs, reunion vacations, and growing up in church have all inspired Lacey to work toward her dreams and to write about the endurance of family.
Visit
www.laceybakerbooks.com
www.sweetlandromance.com
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
HOMECOMING
Copyright © 2013 by Lacey Baker.
Excerpt from Just Like Heaven copyright © 2013 by Lacey Baker.
All rights reserved.
For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
www.stmartins.com
eISBN: 9781466808409
St. Martin’s Paperbacks edition / May 2013
St. Martin’s Paperbacks are published by St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
