Baking Spirits Bright! by Kaci Lane (2024)
Christmas Kisses & Cookie Crumbs #1
related - Apple Cart County Christmas series
+66-page Kindle Ebook story pages 1-60
Genre: Holiday > Christmas; Romance, Short Story
Featuring: Graphics, Dual POVs, Close Proximity, Apple Orchard, Small-Town Alabama near Tuscaloosa, Food Blogger, Family Farms, Bake-Off, Nashville, Tennessee; Aspiring Marketing Director, Family Dynamics, Breakaway Trope, Holiday Recipe - Cookie Crack, Christmas Kisses and Cookie Crumbs series Bibliography with Covers and Link, Link to Apple Cart County Christmas series, Link to Newsletter, Summer Bonus Scene - Fourth of July, Summer Recipe - Southern Chess Squares, Bibliography for Kaci Lane, Author's Links
Rating as a movie: PG
Songs for the soundtrack: "Christmas Must Be Something More" by Taylor Swift, "Hard Candy Christmas" by Dolly Parton
My rating: 🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟🍎🥧💚❤️❄️🎄
My thoughts: 🔖Page 38 of 66 [halfway through Chapter 5] ❄️Erica - This story is adorable! I'm only stopping because I can't read in the shower.
I love this series. I'm definitely putting this author's catalog on my TBR. This story was hilarious.
Recommend to others: Yes.
Christmas Kisses & Cookie Crumbs
1. Baking Spirits Bright! (2024) Kaci Lane
2. Christmas Tree Connection (2024) Elle Rush
3. Holiday Lights and Cocoa Cookie Nights (2024) Meg Easton
4. Madeleine's Mistletoe Meet Cute (2024) Ellie Hall
5. Molasses and Mr. Christmas (2024) Lindsey Jesionowski
6. Pistachio Craze for the Holidays (2024) Kimberly Krey
7. St. Nick and Me Are Mint to Be (2024) Tamie Dearen
8. Tying the Knot with her Sweet Scrooge (2024) Ginny Sterling
9. 'Tis the Gingerbread Season (2024) Monique Brasher
10. The Cowboy's Chocolate Covered Christmas (2024) Danae Little
11. Second Chance Christmas Cracker Crush (2024) Jessie Gussman
12. The White Chocolate Christmas Wish (2024) Jess Mastorakos
Memorable Quotes: “Could you give me directions?” “Sure.” I go through the spiel of driving out of town and passing Waffle House, then slowing at the sign for Double Drive. “The motel sign might not be lit, and it’s in the same building as Enchilada and The Hole.” “The hole, WH or H?” I laugh. “H. It’s a liquor store.” He lifts his chin as the culture shock hits. “Got it. My mind went to Whole Foods for some reason, since this is an agriculture area.” “Well, we have plenty of that too, but it’s sold at the Pig and farmers’ markets.” “Gotcha.” He smiles. “I’m from a rural area in Tennessee.” I laugh, relaxing my shoulders. “That’s nice to hear.” He nods. “Thanks for the directions. I hope to see you around.” “Me too.” I smile nervously as he gets in a nearby car and drives away. Me too? Wouldn’t that mean I’m also looking forward to seeing me around? I don’t know. I slap my forehead. This is why I’m better off behind a computer, where I can type my mind and edit it. Living next to Paul this past year and a half has not been good for my brain.
Quality Inn. Not much for quality. I assumed picking a motel rather than an Airbnb would be safer in an unknown town in Alabama. Maybe I was wrong. My gut cringes even more when I read a sign on the office door. “Visit register in Enchilada.” Alrighty, then. I step back and pass The Hole, opting for door number three: the entrance to the Mexican restaurant. It does seem like the safest choice at this point. An upbeat mariachi tempo greets me. There’s one guy sitting at the bar, which is one more than should be here at nine a.m. on a weekday. I turn and spot the front counter, along with what I hope is the register mentioned on the note. Nobody is there, so I ring a bell. A small man hurries from the back and smiles. “How many?” I glance around to make sure he’s talking to me. “Ryan Lewis. I made a reservation.” He starts grabbing menus, so I stop him. “Not for a table. For a room.” “Si.” He opens a notebook and flips through some grease-stained pages. He mumbles something in Spanish, then disappears again. I sigh and scan the room while he’s gone. Sleeping next door to this place should be a real treat. A thin older man enters this time. “You booked a room?” His voice is husky and dark. Not in the way women find sexy, but in the way that says, “I had unfiltered cigarettes for dinner and gunpowder for dessert.” “Yes, sir,” I answer. At least according to Expedia I booked a room. I pull out my phone to open the confirmation in my email in case they ask. Before I locate it, he speaks again. “Here’s the key. Rooms are numbered. If the number fell off, count.” I nod. Seems simple enough. “You’re in four.” He holds out the key, only to jerk his hand back and cover a deathly cough. Then he holds it out again, and I take it with caution. I hope he isn’t competing in the town bake-off.
Ryan isn’t wearing a three-piece suit or a sweater vest, and he doesn’t have a metropolitan vibe. According to Hallmark, that disqualifies him from being a corporate tycoon ready to overthrow our small town.