From Scratch by Rachel Goodman
Series: Blue Plate #1
Publication date: May 1st, 2020
Synopsis (according to Goodreads):
A down-home, feel-good debut Southern romance, From Scratch explores one woman's journey back home to Dallas, Texas, where her family is cooking up a plan that doesn't quite suit her tastes...
Thirty-year-old Lillie Turner grew up with maple syrup stuck to her skin and bacon grease splattered on her clothes, courtesy of working int he family diner. Thank goodness she escaped all that when she moved to Chicago five years ago. Now a successful strategy consultant and newly engaged to a man who complements her like biscuits and gravy, she has everything she wants.
When an urgent phone call about her father's health pulls Lillie back to Dallas, she soon learns it was a ruse to bring her home so she can run the diner she'd rather avoid and compete in the Upper Crust, an annual baking competition, with no option to withdraw. Lillie is furious and ready to run back to Chicago, but her father's haggard appearance makes her wonder if he's hiding something. Things go from bad to worse when Nick, her handsome ex and the only man she ever truly loved, reappears, looking as scrumptious as ever.
Lillie's trip home forces her to question the path she's chosen, find her place in the family she abandoned, and wonder if the life she left behind is what she really wants after all.
Available at:
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Excerpt
Once the ingredients were dumped into the stand mixer, Nick scraped down the sides of the bowl with a spatula and secured the whisk attachment. He turned on the mixer and flipped it to the fastest whipping speed. Immediately, batter erupted out of the bowl. Springing into action, I grabbed the power cord and yanked it from the outlet before more damage could be done.
Too late.
Batter was splattered everywhere--on the cabinets, the tile backsplash, the stovetop. Large blobs of it dripped off the counter and were landing in soupy puddles on the floor. When my gaze locked on Nick, I burst into giggles. I couldn't help it. He was coated in it.
Nick only stood there, a stunned expression on his face. Finally, he shook his head and said, "That was not supposed to happen." He pulled his polo shirt over his head, revealing a white cotton undershirt, and tossed it into the sink.
I threw a dish towel at his chest. "I told you tripling the recipe was a stupid idea. You should have taken my advice--"
"Your unsolicited advice," he interjected as he cleaned himself up.
"Does it matter? At least we would have something to show for it and the kitchen wouldn't look like a scene from Animal House," I said, then dipped my finger into one of the lumpy blobs on the counter and smeared it across his cheek.
Nick narrowed his eyes. "Wipe it off."
"Make me," I said with a wicked smile.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Maybe. What are you going to do about it?" I said, reaching up to spread more batter across his other cheek. Nick captured my wrist, his gaze intense, making my pulse race.
Then all at once we crashed together, two hormonal magnets colliding. Our mouths connected, and when our lips parted and tongues grazed against each other, I was gone, consumed by him. Nick pulled my waist against his, then lifted me up and placed me on the counter. My fingers curled into his shirtfront, tugging him even closer so that there was no room for a breath between us.
A car alarm blared somewhere outside, loud and angry, and we broke apart, gasping, our breathing erratic. Nick dropped his head to my shoulder and let out a soft laugh.
I ran my fingers through his hair and said, "I guess that's our cue to clean up this mess and finish the cake before my father comes home."
Wiggling out of his grasp, I hopped off the counter, readjusted my tank top, and smoothed down my hair. Then I walked over to the counter and found the recipe card so we could get started again.
Nick followed me. "I say we forget it," he said, reclaiming my waist, a mischievous grin on his face.
Too late.
Batter was splattered everywhere--on the cabinets, the tile backsplash, the stovetop. Large blobs of it dripped off the counter and were landing in soupy puddles on the floor. When my gaze locked on Nick, I burst into giggles. I couldn't help it. He was coated in it.
Nick only stood there, a stunned expression on his face. Finally, he shook his head and said, "That was not supposed to happen." He pulled his polo shirt over his head, revealing a white cotton undershirt, and tossed it into the sink.
I threw a dish towel at his chest. "I told you tripling the recipe was a stupid idea. You should have taken my advice--"
"Your unsolicited advice," he interjected as he cleaned himself up.
"Does it matter? At least we would have something to show for it and the kitchen wouldn't look like a scene from Animal House," I said, then dipped my finger into one of the lumpy blobs on the counter and smeared it across his cheek.
Nick narrowed his eyes. "Wipe it off."
"Make me," I said with a wicked smile.
"Is that a challenge?"
"Maybe. What are you going to do about it?" I said, reaching up to spread more batter across his other cheek. Nick captured my wrist, his gaze intense, making my pulse race.
Then all at once we crashed together, two hormonal magnets colliding. Our mouths connected, and when our lips parted and tongues grazed against each other, I was gone, consumed by him. Nick pulled my waist against his, then lifted me up and placed me on the counter. My fingers curled into his shirtfront, tugging him even closer so that there was no room for a breath between us.
A car alarm blared somewhere outside, loud and angry, and we broke apart, gasping, our breathing erratic. Nick dropped his head to my shoulder and let out a soft laugh.
I ran my fingers through his hair and said, "I guess that's our cue to clean up this mess and finish the cake before my father comes home."
Wiggling out of his grasp, I hopped off the counter, readjusted my tank top, and smoothed down my hair. Then I walked over to the counter and found the recipe card so we could get started again.
Nick followed me. "I say we forget it," he said, reclaiming my waist, a mischievous grin on his face.
Sour Grapes by Rachel Goodman (Blue Plate #2) -
To Be Published: June 5th, 2020
About the Author:
Rachel Goodman is the critically acclaimed author of the Blue Plate and How to Score series. She was raised in Colorado on Roald Dahl books and her mother's award-worthy cooking. Now an engineering professor at her alma mater, Southern Methodist University in Dallas, Texas, she has not lost her passion for culinary discovery or a well-told story. A member of RWA, she continues to hone her craft through the Writer's Path at SMU while seeking to create the perfect macaroni and cheese recipe. Follow her on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, or visit her website.
3 winners will each receive a $10 Amazon gift card + signed paperback of From Scratch (International winners will receive a $20 Amazon gift only)
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