Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 227(@200wpm)___ 181(@250wpm)___ 151(@300wpm)
I got up extra early to take my morning walk and have some coffee and got to the bakery by five-thirty to start baking and prep work. We didn’t open until eight—that gave me time to get several batches of cinnamon rolls, blueberry muffins, and almond croissants out. Once I turned the “closed” sign to “open” I was constantly back and forth between the register, the oven, and the workspace in the back, baking and helping customers while I worked on the other pastries and cookies the Lost Lamb was famous for.
I closed at five on the dot and spent the next few hours making dough for the next day and cleaning up—luckily my Great Aunt had given me a spell that handled most of the cleaning—and then I went home around seven, had dinner, and did it all again the next day.
It wasn’t easy but I normally loved my routine. I had always enjoyed baking and thanks to the spells my Great Aunt had left me for cleaning and for multiplying basic ingredients—I had a doubling spell that I used at least fifty times a week—it was profitable as well. But the town had been growing lately—the magic bubble swelling to accommodate all the new magic users and Creatures who were moving away from the Mortal Realm where things were getting awfully crazy.
Lately things had gotten too busy for just one person alone to run The Lost Lamb so I had hired some help—a Natural Witch called Sarah. She had moved to town after her Grandmother’s will called to her and she was now living on the far side of Hidden Hollow.
Sarah had a bit of Kitchen Witch in her as well—she loved to bake and nurture people—so she was a perfect fit for The Lost Lamb. She’d been introduced to me by one of my regulars, an Orc called Rath, who had turned out to be her Heartmate.
I think it was seeing Sarah and Rath together that was making me so blue—that and the fact that I was turning forty. The two of them were so in love with each other you could practically smell it in the air when they got together. (It smelled like marzipan if you’re wondering.)
Up until then, I hadn’t missed having a man in my life. Like I said, the ones I kept matching with on the dating apps were all horrible and my daily routine was extremely busy. But when I opened my eyes on the morning of my fortieth birthday and realized that I was still single and I probably wasn’t ever going to meet my own Heartmate, I began feeling blue. I had taken my birthday off to do something special…and now I realized that I had no one to do anything special with. It really sucked.
“It’s not just Sarah and Rath,” I muttered as I paced around the kitchen. “It’s those damn dreams I keep having! What’s wrong with me, anyway?”
The dreams had been coming steadily for the past six months—but the crazy thing was I couldn’t remember them very well. I just woke up all hot and bothered with a sense of longing filling me. I would have chalked the whole thing up to perimenopause but Madam Healer, the town doctor who treated every one—both human and Creature—in Hidden Hollow, had given me magical herbs to fend it off.
Besides, the dreams left me with more than just hot flashes—I had a feeling like someone had been touching me and giving me pleasure, bringing me almost to the brink of coming right before I woke up and everything faded away—including my dream lover, whoever he might be.
“It’s those damn dreams!” I muttered again, still pacing. “If I could just stop having them, I’m sure I’d be happy again. After all, I have a wonderful life! I own my own bakery, which is very successful. I have friends and a fulfilling career that I love—I mean it’s way better than working in the accounting firm.”
I stopped pacing and stood in front of the small mirror hanging on the kitchen’s far wall. A full-figured woman with a plump but pretty face, big blue eyes, and long golden-brown hair stared back. Sure there were a few crow’s feet forming at the corners of my eyes and there were laugh lines around my mouth but I hadn’t found a single gray hair yet—probably because my hair was already a light color but so what? It still counted, right?
“I don’t look half bad—for my age,” I went on. Listing my attributes and successes was one way I cheered myself up when I was feeling down. Only this time it didn’t seem to be helping. Nevertheless, I kept trying. “I’m a strong, beautiful, intelligent woman and I don’t need a man or a Heartmate to be happy. I need to stop feeling sorry for myself!” I concluded, giving my reflection a stern look.