Baking Spirits Bright!: A Sweet Secret Identity Small-Town Romcom Short Read, Paperback

A handsome, single stranger is attending the Apple Cart County Christmas Bakeoff—on purpose. This must be a Christmas miracle.

I came up with the perfect plan to launch my career as a marketing professional and put my family’s apple orchard on the map. Then my quirky old landlord stole my idea to declare an official Apple Cart apple dessert and suggested a county-wide bakeoff.

That leaves me to defend my family’s desserts among others in town. For better or worse, it brings more exposure to Apple Cart.

It also brings a handsome man my age to town.

But there has to be a catch since he’s not visiting family or just passing through. Not until I’ve bared my soul to him for days do I discover he’s a famous Southern food blogger. Was our connection genuine, or was he playing me for intel on Apple Cart?

That leaves me trying to not love and hate him at the same time.

Chapter One

Erica

I step onto my porch and cringe. Behind me is the sound of a steady stream of water hitting the ground. 

Most people living in the country wake up to birds chirping, but I wake up to my neighbor peeing off the porch.

I train my eyes on my feet and shove my earbuds in. I’ve learned the hard way not to put them in before leaving the house, or I might not hear the warning. 

“Morning, Erica,” my neighbor calls. 

I wave an arm behind me, refusing to look back. I can’t be rude because he has a right to half of the porch on this duplex. Oh, and he’s my landlord.

Paul isn’t home much between his store and “courting Miss Dot”—his words. But when he is home, he makes himself at home frequently. 

I hit the pavement and speed into a jog in the opposite direction of him. 

There aren’t a lot of decent housing options in Apple Cart for a single person, and I was ready to move out of my parents’ house. It was either here, the trailer park, or an RV in Wisteria. 

The good news is this one-bedroom is affordable and a few blocks from everything in town. The bad news is it comes with Paul.

In the long run, it will be easier for me to move away if I’ve already left home. Our family is close, and many of us work together at the apple orchard. 

Soon as I graduated Auburn, they lured me back with a decent salary for running their social media and marketing and the safety net of home. I was coming off a failed engagement with my college boyfriend and a little vulnerable. 

I’d always planned to help market the orchard. However, I’d never planned for it to be my only client. 

No matter how much responsibility they add to my job description and how many raises they offer, I need more than Apple Cart. It’s a great place to live, but I want a life of my own. 

Here, I’m part of the Marshall family orchard. Every generation adds more people to grow our business. I expand it in a virtual way, and I’d like to expand my own life more than virtually. 

I turn down the pavement and jog past several houses. Nicer and bigger than the duplex, and definitely not for sale. If I were staying here long term, these would be nice. 

Although my roots are here, I don’t want them to run so deep I can’t pull out and replant at any time. 

My main project this year has been overhauling the orchard’s website. If we’re going to be a known tourist attraction and apple supplier, then we have to update how people can buy our products. 

Months of digging up old photos and getting stories from my mom and uncle turned into beautiful pages and content for a newsletter. However, my biggest idea to date was suggesting an official dessert for Apple Cart County. 

The idea was to have a taste testing at the orchard and let the community vote on their favorite apple dessert. Then Paul overheard my conversation and said we should have a town bake-off to get more desserts. Before I could come up with a rebuttal, he went back in his side of the house. 

A few hours later, I heard about a county-wide bake-off while I was at Piggly Wiggly. 

So much for my grand idea to put the orchard on the map. Technically it is, but a tiny dot on the state map only used by people over sixty who still visit rest areas on their way to Pigeon Forge. 

I want top billing on Google searches. 

Ironically, I’m near the Pig as I’m thinking about this and give it a snarl. I wait on a log truck to pass and cross the street to run near the park. 

If I can make the orchard well known, I can start a marketing agency. Then I can get multiple clients and live wherever and be a real independent woman. Not just Erica Sinclair, one of the Marshall family’s granddaughters. 

I can earn my own way and live wherever—

“Oomph.” I hit something and land on the sidewalk. 

“Are you okay?” 

I squint my eyes open to a man’s hand near my face. I take it and allow him to help me stand. He pulls me up firmly but gently at the same time. Like a lumberjack cuddling a kitten. 

When I’m on my feet, I pluck out my earbuds and study his face. I’ve never seen him before. He must be someone’s out-of-town cousin, or lost. 

“I’m good. Are you?” I answer after awkwardly looking him over. 

“Yeah.” He gives me a lopsided grin. 

He’s cute. And I’m not—right now. I’m in yoga pants, an Auburn sweatshirt I so slept in last night, messy ponytail, and no makeup.

But he’s smiling even bigger at me. He must be lost, bless his heart.

“Can I help you with anything?” I tilt my head. 

“Uh, yeah.” He shakes his head and extends his hand. “I’m Ryan.”

I squeeze his hand and shake it. After several beats, he stares at our hands. I drop mine and slide it down my side in embarrassment.

“Erica.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, Erica.” He pulls a phone from his back pocket. “I can’t find the Quality Inn.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You want to find the Quality Inn?”

“I have a room there.” 

Bless his heart for sure. 

“Okay. It’s on the edge of Wisteria. The address is actually in Moonshine County.”

“Oh.” Now it’s his turn to look shocked. “It popped up online as being in Apple Cart County.”

“Yeah . . .” I clear my throat. “It’s the only motel for miles so they serve our county too.” I add under my breath, “Unfortunately.”

One of the many reasons I’ve tried to convince my family to offer a bed and breakfast option at the orchard. 

He glances around the park at the playground equipment and the new gazebo. The town council had a heated debate about that gazebo a few months back. Half didn’t want to spend the money on something “of no use,” but the appeal of having a gazebo in the hub of a small town won. 

“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.