I’m working hard on a romance novel I’ve whipped up titled Complete Meltdown. Take one fiesty, pink haired chocolatier named Ruby Fontaine, add gorgeous but cold  hotel general manager Delilah Kerrigan, and mix n a missing journalist, a very tempting police detective, and a lot of delicious chocolates to get a tasty, tantalizing treat of a romance.

Here’s an excerpt for you to enjoy on Valentine’s Day.

CHAPTER ONE

         Ruby Fontaine nestled a dark and deliciously bitter Venezuelan chocolate ganache and pink salt truffle in each small white box, followed by a vanilla bean and stout burnt caramel bonbon. The lids went on next. Tying shocking pink ribbons into neat bows around the hundred boxes took longer. At last, she finished and stepped back from the workbench to admire her handiwork. Another triumph for the Magic Bean.

She enjoyed putting together pretty wedding favors for brides and this order was no exception. Each box held two confections—a small sample of the handmade, artisanal chocolates helping cement her reputation as a skilled chocolatier. She packed up the boxes and checked her To-Do list. Without a storefront, working out of a rented commercial kitchen meant taking on-line orders only, but one day, she’d own a real shop.

Time to get started on the goat’s milk chocolate fudge.

Moving across the space, Ruby caught her reflection in the steel refrigerator door and paused to poke at her hair. The cotton candy pink had faded and grown out over the last few weeks to show dark blonde roots. Orange next time? Ugh, no. The tint would do no favors for her pale blue eyes, which a former girlfriend had described as the color of anemic cornflowers during their break-up. I’ll stick with pink for now. Better touch up this weekend. She also decided to change the tiny hoop nestled in the curve of her nostril to a stud.

She took what she needed from the refrigerator and busied herself at the stove.

Her cell phone rang. She fished the device out of her apron pocket. “Thank you for calling the Magic Bean, how may I help you?”

“Rosie, thank God … it’s me. Beatrice. Uh, you know. Bee Brooks.”

“I know who you are, Bee.”

“I’ve got a serious emergency on my hands!”

Ruby kept a close eye on the candy thermometer clipped the side of the heavy saucepan holding the simmering fudge mixture. “What’s wrong?” An unwelcome thought struck her. “Is Katie all right?”

“Yes and no.” Beatrice sounded frazzled. “I mean, yes, Kaitlyn’s fine right now. In about two hours, though, my daughter and twenty other kindergarteners will be psychologically scarred for life because it’s her birthday, I was supposed to order cupcakes for the class, and I forgot. How the hell could I forget something so important?”

“Bee, calm down and—”

“You don’t understand! Chloe Parkinson’s mother had a specialty cake made at that fancy bakery, you know the one over on Twelfth Street and Main, and for a solid week, I swear, all Kaitlyn talked about was that damned unicorn carousel cake. So I promised her ballerina princess cupcakes with the frosting and the spun sugar that looks like your hair—”

“Bee, if you’d just let me—”

“Ballerina princesses aren’t exactly in, but it was that or cats farting rainbows, and I forgot, and I’m a very, very, bad mother! The worst. Like, the Attila the Hun of mothers. What am I going to do, Rosie? I screwed up Kaitlyn’s birthday—”

“Will you please shut up for two seconds?” Ruby half shouted into the phone. Silence fell, but Beatrice didn’t hang up in a snit, thank goodness. She checked the thermometer. After rescuing the fudge and setting the pot on a rack to cool, she summoned patience and said, “You’re not a bad mother, Bee. I’m sure you’ve been busy working on that newspaper story you told me about. Katie will forgive you. She’s six years old.”

Beatrice drew a shaky breath. “Yeah. Okay, yeah, you’re right. I panicked. But what am I going to do? Help me, Rosie-Wan, you’re my only hope.”

“Come over to the kitchen,” Ruby said, chuckling. “I’m sure if you show up with anything sugar related, Katie and her friends won’t miss the cupcakes.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.” Beatrice ended the call.

Sighing, Ruby put her phone away and went to hunt for supplies in her inventory. By the time Beatrice swung through the back door, she’d already started assembling treats in individual clear cellophane gift bags set out on two trays.

“You’re a godsend, honest,” Beatrice said, grinning and tossing her purse on top of the counter. Her sleek brunette bob swung forward to brush her cheeks when she bent over to examine the bags. “I’d look like a real chump in front of the other moms, to say nothing of the teacher, Mrs. Woods. Every time I drag myself to one of her joyless conferences, I swear the woman’s judging me and finding me wanting.”

Ruby pressed her lips together to keep from saying, the situation isn’t about you, it’s about making Katie happy, and continued selecting sweets. She reminded herself that Beatrice was sometimes self-centered and a bit oblivious, but also fiercely devoted to Kaitlyn.

Beatrice waved a hand. “Gluten free, I hope. Kids are delicate these days.”

“No gluten, no nuts,” Rosie replied. “They’re getting a couple of goat’s milk chocolate mini-bars. Real fruit gummy hearts. You’re lucky I made brown rice cereal treats with raspberry marshmallow for a client this morning, so you can have those. I’ll make more.”

“Sounds yummy. Save one for me.”

“You need to stop at the party supplies store on your way to the school. Don’t make that face, Bee. Buy some favors like mini boxes of crayons, stickers, and little coloring books—enough for each bag. Tie the tops closed with these purple ribbons. And be sure you get Katie a tiara and a sparkly wand. Don’t forget.”

“Can’t you do the shopping? I’m useless at that girly stuff,” Beatrice said, snitching a passion fruit gummy heart. “Mmm, these aren’t bad.”

“Pay attention. You need to go the party supplies store. I don’t have time,” Ruby said, thinking about the ruined pot of fudge she’d have to throw out. Maybe she could recycle the mess into an ice cream sauce.

“Fine. Whatever.” Beatrice gave in with bad grace. “Stickers, you said?”

“Age appropriate. And crayons and coloring books. Ask a store employee to help you.” Ruby stuck an orange-pomegranate lollipop in each bag. “Hang on a second.”

She went to a desk crammed in the corner and leaned over to peer at the computer. A few taps on the keyboard brought up a large file. She quickly cut and pasted several blocks of information into a new document and printed out a copy before returning to Beatrice.

“Here’s an ingredients list,” she said, handing the copy to her friend. “Give this to Mrs. Woods. She can make sure none of the students with dietary restrictions have allergies or intolerances to any candy in the goodie bags.”

Beatrice rolled her eyes, but accepted the sheet of paper.

“Anything special planned for the birthday girl?” Ruby asked, smiling at the mental image of her honorary niece. She’d bought Kaitlyn a child friendly digital camera and planned to bring the present over to Beatrice’s house after supper.

“I hadn’t really thought … would you take her tonight? I’m meeting my informant for an interview and I’ll probably run late.” Beatrice lowered her voice although they were alone. “I’m getting close, Rosie. Real close. There’s a lot more going on than anybody knows. When I file my story it’s going to break City Hall wide open.”

Ruby snorted—in her opinion, a morally bankrupt politician wasn’t news—and focused on a more immediate concern. “Did you tell Katie you won’t be home until late?”

Beatrice blushed and averted her gaze. “Would you mind taking her out to eat? Maybe someplace fun?” she asked, evading the question.

“I’ll do my best, but you need to talk to your daughter. I mean what I say, Bee. Don’t leave me holding the bag. Katie needs to hear from you why you won’t be there.”

“Aw, for fuck’s sake, do I really have to be the bad guy?”

“You’re a mother, that’s part of your job. Suck it up and deal.” Ruby pointed at an empty glass jar on a corner of the workbench. A label on the jar read, You say it, you pay it. “You owe me a dollar for the F-bomb.”

Beatrice heaved a put-upon sigh, dug in her purse for a wallet, and shoved a folded bill through the slot in the metal lid. “Still with the swear jar? God—I mean, gosh darn it to heck.” She raised her hands in the air. “Okay, whatever, fine. Party supplies store. Buy stuff to amuse children, put into gift bags, apply ribbons. I think I’ve got it, Rosie. Thanks.”

“Here you go. Give Katie a kiss for me.” Ruby passed over the cardboard box she’d packed the bags in. “Should I pick up Katie from school?”

“I’ll drop her off at your place. Three-thirty work for you?”

“Sure.”

Scooping the box under her arm, Beatrice grabbed her purse and left the kitchen.

Ruby started working on a new batch of goat’s milk fudge. Once she finished the task, she made crispy rice treats, ancho infused ice cream sauce from the fudge ruined earlier, and several flavors of gourmet marshmallows.

New out-of-state orders came in from the website for the Magic Bean’s signature Three Little Pigs brittle: bourbon, pecans, and morsels of fried pancetta, guanciale, and apple wood smoked bacon. She grinned. Looks like a BLT for lunch.

A few hours later, she finished packing and sorting boxes for shipment tomorrow and glanced at her watch. Her stomach sank. Three o’clock already. Good grief! She snatched at her To-Do list and ticked off items, double checking shipping and delivery labels, and ensuring she had everything ready for the following morning.

Satisfied at last, she locked up and left.

The rented kitchen wasn’t far from her apartment building. Pre-rush hour traffic proved mercifully light, but an accident at an intersection had her snarled with other cars moving at a snail’s pace for twenty minutes before she could continue at a normal speed.

Finally, she pulled her old Dodge truck into the tenants-only, below ground garage only to find a lipstick red, sporty MINI Cooper Coupe parked in her assigned space. A space she paid thirty dollars a month to reserve, no less.

She gripped the steering wheel and stared in disbelief at the MINI. Some inconsiderate so-and-so had stolen her spot! She despised bad manners almost as much as swearing.

Checking her watch, she realized she was appallingly late. Beatrice and Kaitlyn must be upstairs waiting for her. No time to make a complaint to the management office. No time to sit there and fume, either. She banked her frustration and drove forward, intending to swing the truck around and try the visitors’ parking lot next door.

When she noticed a well dressed woman coming out of the stairwell at the back, her suspicion flared. She braked and waited to see where the stranger went. Her patience was rewarded when the woman crossed over to the MINI. A-ha!

Now intent on confronting the woman who’d stolen her spot, Ruby got out of her truck, flushing when opening the door caused a loud, grating squeal to reverberate off the concrete walls and ceiling. She’d meant to grease that hinge for weeks. Embarrassment added fuel to her annoyance. “Hey!” she called. “That’s my parking space!”

The woman turned her head. Loose chestnut curls slithered over the shoulders of her navy blue suit jacket. “I’ll be leaving your space in a minute,” she said, her freezing tone and cold gray gaze suggesting she spoke to an idiot.

Ruby’s cheeks heated further at the attractive woman’s disdain. Common sense urged her to return to her truck. Instead, she put her hands on her hips and stayed right where she stood. Someone had to take a stand for civilized behavior, otherwise there’d be chaos. “You shouldn’t take a space reserved for tenants. There’s a visitor’s lot next door.”

“Really?” The woman jerked open the MINI’s door. She paused, her gray eyes flashing dangerously. “Just look at all the fucks I don’t give.” She slid into the driver’s seat, slammed the door shut, and rolled down the window. “By the way, Miss Manners, you can take your little lecture and shove it up your ass,” she ranted before starting the MINI’s engine.

The car backed up and suddenly peeled out of the garage, leaving behind smoke, the stink of scorched rubber, and skid marks on the concrete.

Ruby waved a hand in front of her face, wrinkling her nose at the smell and the woman’s lack of manners. The gesture brought her watch in sight. Her stomach dropped. She pushed the confrontation to the back of her mind, scrambled to park her truck, and hurried to the elevator on the other side of the garage.

Getting off on the third floor, she stumbled to a halt in the empty corridor. Where are Bee and Katie? She walked to her apartment. Beatrice must be running a late too, in which case her own tardiness would go unnoticed.

After another half-hour passed with no word from her friend, she began to fret in earnest. When Beatrice continued to ignore her calls, the concern turned to worry.

At four-fifteen, the school called to let her know no one had collected Kaitlyn yet.

The worry became full blown panic.