Jamie Wesley > Quotes

“And you’re not angry with me?” She searched his eyes for the truth.
“I’ve found that anger is usually a manifestation of hurt. For me, anyway.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“She tightened her inner muscles around him, feeling his swift inhalation of breath at the movement. Then his magical fingers joined the action at her clit.
“Oh, my God.” Jada could no longer concentrate. Could no longer maintain that careful, measured rhythm. She could only feel as the storm raged through her as she raced toward the end.
She yelped in surprise when Donovan flipped them. Never stopping the glorious motion of his hips, he guided her leg over his hip and amazingly reached deeper inside her with an expert thrust. She held on for the ride, the sparks flying high and bright throughout her entire body, as his pace quickened. He rolled his hips, pressing against her clit, and his mouth swallowed her cry as she fell headlong over the edge.
At her encouragement, he pistoned a few more times, shocking another climax out of her before finally throwing his head back in a hoarse shout as an orgasm claimed him.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“New flames built inside her. He swiped a tongue down her sensitive folds once, twice before returning to her clit.
Jada cried out, her throat arching. Aching.
He didn’t stop.
Not when she pleaded. Not when she begged. Thank God. She panted for more. Implored him to release her from this torture. To keep going. He took his cues from her, alternating between slowing and quickening the pace of his fingers and tongue as she responded. “Yes. Like that. Please. Donovan.”
She looked down as he looked up. The expression on his face dazzled her. Determined. Intense. Focused on her. Making sure she was taken care of. Turned on. Wild. “Anything you want, baby.”
He lowered his head and continued to feast on her like she was a banquet. Strong glides of his tongue were followed by slower swirls. Right when she was about to explode, he gentled his touch. The torture continued until she couldn’t take it anymore. “Donovan,” she pleaded. “I…can’t…”
“I got you, baby.”
A gentle squeeze of her clit with his teeth and she soared over the edge, tumbling straight down into the abyss.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“People still watch TV?”
“Yeah. And they stream. Which extends the time people can get worked up and want to express their very important opinions on a variety of social media platforms, which then catch the attention of media outlets, who report on it, extending the life of the scandal.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“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

“You bring joy and love to my life. I love your supposed imperfections. I should have told you I believe in you, and I want you to do the same. I should have told you that you have so much to offer to the world, and I want a front row seat to your continued blossoming.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“There’s been some speculation that Donovan is dating you to get a better contract with the Knights,” she continued.
Fury rose in Donovan so fast it damn near obscured his vision. A loud guffaw stopped him from setting Kayla so straight she’d never look askance again.
Jada slapped her hand on the table. “Are you serious right now? He’s dating me to get a better contract? That would be a big fat hell no. He’s the most upstanding man I’ve ever met and the last person to ever do something so underhanded. He didn't even know who I was when we first met. Please apologize to him right now or I will walk off this show.”
Jada was deadly serious. She looked for all the world like a warrior ready to defend her family. He was touched beyond belief. Despite everything that had gone down between them, despite the way he’d hurt her feelings in that supply closet, she still had his back.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“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

“She was a lucky, lucky woman. Scrumptious brown skin she couldn’t wait to taste. Soft swirls of black hair covered hard pecs. The hair tapered in the most intriguing way into a line that went down his well-defined abs to his waist.
She’d given her compliments to the chef earlier. But if good, healthy cooking led to those abs, she hadn’t given the woman her due enough. Her mouth watered with the desire to follow his happy trail to the promised land with her mouth. Soon. Very soon.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“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

“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

“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

“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

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault that you tilt my equilibrium off its axis. Every day, I try to figure out how I’m going to handle it. I’m not like you. I like spreadsheets and SWOT analyses. Every day, I fight my instincts.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“If she had one more big, bright idea, she was going to figure out a way to kick herself in the shin.”
― Jamie Wesley, Slamdunked By Love

“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

“If you insist on ‘exposing us’,” Donovan said, his voice hard as ice, using air quotes, “we’ll have to do some exposing of our own. Certain people, like network executives, probably aren’t too keen on their employees engaging in blackmail. Besides, Jada is beloved. You know it, and I know it. I’m sure her fans would love to fill your Twitter mentions with all kinds of creative replies if they knew what you were attempting to do.”
“You have no proof of blackmail.” Lila’s eyes spat fire.
Jada held up a manicured index finger. “Oh, but I do. You know how you kept calling and leaving messages? Silly me, I thought you were asking me to do interviews. Which you were, I guess, technically. I finally got around to listening to the voice mails.”
She wrinkled her nose, “Wow. Really creative vocabulary you have there, Lila. That last voice mail was quite a doozy. I wasn’t expecting the threats about how you were going to destroy me, how you were going to leak damaging rumors about me, how you’d been behind a lot of the hate I received online with bot accounts.” Jada grimaced. “Ugly stuff. You sounded drunk or high when you admitted that, so you might not remember saying all that, but you did.”
Jada kept her gaze trained squarely on Lila. She ignored John’s gasp.
Lila’s already pale skin turned ghastly white. “I don't know what you’re talking about.”
Jada sniffed. “Oh, I think you do. Really, I’d hate for those messages to fall into the wrong hands.”
Lila sneered, her veneer finally cracking. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re a spoiled, rich girl. You don’t have the balls.”
The courage of her convictions swept through Jada. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Jada turned to the other member of the blackmailing crew. “As for you, John, I’m sure people would love to know their perfect Mr. America has slid into the DMs of no less than three contestants from My One and Only with a woe-is-me story, trying to get back together with them, all at the same time.” Jada snapped her fingers. “Did I forget to mention I ended my social media hiatus to check my DMs? I do so love it when women have each other’s backs.”
Jada gave the cowards a moment to respond. When none came, she offered up the kill shot. “If none of that reasoning convinces you, and I can't imagine why it wouldn’t, please remember this spoiled, rich girl has a billionaire grandmother who loves her very, very much. If I tell her what you both attempted to do to me, she will ruin both your lives, barely lifting a finger. Contrary to what you believe, Lila, I don't make idle threats. I suggest you both slink away and forget you ever knew my name.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“People looked out for themselves first. Always.”
― Jamie Wesley, Slamdunked By Love

“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

“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

“Are you okay? Did that dickwad do or say something out of pocket to you?”
Her eyes slid open. “Dickwad?” she murmured. “Have you been watching Animal House or some other raunch com or something from the eighties? Or the nineties?”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“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

“Are you gluten-free?”
“No.”
“Great. That means our entire menu is open to you.”
“Can’t wait.”
He chose to ignore the sarcasm. “You look like a vanilla person.”
Okay, maybe he hadn’t ignored it.
Her lifted eyebrow said she’d caught the shot. “Is that the best this shop can offer?”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“Does it bother you that your girlfriend is a heartless bitch?” the next customer asked.
And just like that, her smile withered away to nothing. This was the response she’d expected. Had experienced before she got smart and stopped checking her social media accounts. The ball of anxiety in her stomach that had started to calm began to twist and turn and bounce around the small space again.
“Excuse me.” Donovan’s voice carried through the room, quite forceful in its intensity, snaring the attention of all occupants.
Jada laid a hand on his bare forearm. “It’s okay.”
“No, actually it’s not. No one talks about my girlfriend that way.”
Jada’s jaw unhinged itself from her face and fell straight to the floor. She couldn’t hear anything else over the buzzing in her head. When she stumbled out of her stupor a few seconds later, Donovan was marching the woman to the door and gently but firmly pushing her out the door while the other customers cheered. Well, the ones who weren’t recording the spectacle.
He came back and held up his hand for silence. Such a principal move, but kinda cool. And so fucking hot. “Thanks, everyone, but the applause isn’t necessary. We’re happy to serve anyone who wants a cupcake and a photo, but I won’t tolerate rudeness.”
His message was received loud and clear. For the next thirty minutes, they sold cupcakes to very eager, but polite customers.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“She wanted people to think she was a worldly, sophisticated character---and she was---but that wasn’t all she was. She was a red-blooded woman with insecurities and hopes and dreams like everyone else. Like him. And she didn’t want anyone to know. Just like him. He coped by making his life as orderly as possible and staying as even-keeled as possible. She made it through with some good old-fashioned gumption, even as she took it on the chin.
He couldn’t be the one to let her down.”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“You could knock her down, but she would always get back up,”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“To her untrained eye, the cupcakes looked perfect. They smelled delicious. He handed her one, and she took a big bite. The perfect combination of milk chocolate, graham crackers, and fluffy, sweet marshmallows burst onto her tongue. She couldn’t stop a moan from slipping past her lips. She was officially in love.
“Better than decent, I take it?” Donovan drawled in her ear. Jada froze as a treacherous yet delicious shiver raced down her spine, then turned to face him. He’d come around the counter and was standing right next to her, the heat from his body seeping into hers.
She lifted her head to meet his challenging gaze. She took another delightful bite and swallowed. “Yep. They’re terrific. You didn’t make them, did you?”
― Jamie Wesley, Fake It Till You Bake It

“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

“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

“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