Chapter One
Ember
Ember glanced around the large kitchen, feeling like a little kid all over again.
The coast was clear.
No one was around.
That meant no one would see what she had to do.
With a bit of a thrill, she flipped open the lid off the cake carrier and took a cupcake. Not that they actually counted as cupcakes. They were a two-bite affair. Maybe. Mostly, they were the perfect bite-size. Only her sister Sparx ate the tiny cakes in two bites or more.
Not Ember.
Her eyes went wide, her mouth-watering as she licked a bit of the creamy chocolate icing from her fingers. Her moan echoed against the stainless steel appliances when she popped the triple chocolate cupcake into her mouth. It was moist, decadent, and damn perfect.
“I’m good,” she marveled to herself, rearranging the remaining cupcakes to make sure no one spotted the missing one.
“Busted!” A high-pitched voice shouted.
Ember’s hands flew to her mouth as a shriek ripped out of her. Cinder, her youngest sister, dissolved into peals of laughter. “I’ll never get tired of doing that.”
“You’re mean,” Ember said, trying to sound annoyed. The effect was ruined by her own giggle. “It’s good to see you.”
The two sisters embraced like they hadn’t had lunch together the day before. Or texted all throughout the evening and morning. That was just the way of things with the Brady sisters. They weren’t just siblings; all three of them were best friends.
“You got a little something.” Cinder pointed to the corner of her mouth with a smile. “Couldn’t resist the cupcakes, could you?”
Ember wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “I had to make sure they were all right. It’s all about quality control.”
“Sure it is,” Cinder shot back with an eye roll.
“I have a reputation to keep.” Ember shrugged. “I can’t lose my touch so close to the start of the show.”
The show.
As the memory of it came flooding back into her brain, Ember felt a little bit dizzy. It wasn’t a sugar rush. It was the rush of being so damn close to achieving her dream that got her head so light, as if it was filled with smooth, airy buttercream frosting.
“Like you could ever lose your touch,” Sparx said, coming into the kitchen. “If you need any tips on how to look good on camera, you just let me know.”
Sparx, the middle sister, and total attention addict, was an actress. And not just any actress. She had been playing the role of Samantha Arden in The Town since she was fourteen years old. It was the role of a lifetime to work on the most beloved and watched soap opera to have ever existed.
“I have a plan to deal with the cameras,” Ember told Sparx, hugging her close. “I’m going to ignore them. Completely pretend that they’re not there. I’m going to focus all of my energy on the baking. That way, it will be clear to the judges that I’m actually there to win.”
Sparx arched a very delicate, highly stylized brow. “Then, you’ll lose. Trust me on this. If the audience loves you, the judges will want to keep you around even if you’re a train wreck in the kitchen.”
Ember balked, but Sparx waved her off, continuing on. “You need to be this compelling figure that the audience roots for. If you know how to work the camera, it will do wonders for you. Trust me on this.”
“You should listen to her,” Cinder added. “She’s been on camera since she was a kid.”
“But—” Her brain was whirring like a hand mixer. “I’m not good with people. That’s why I became a baker. Ingredients are much simpler, and they always behave the way they’re meant to.”
At least, they did for her. If Sparx had been acting since she was fourteen, Ember had been cooking and baking since she had received her Easybake Oven for her fourth birthday. She had quickly outgrown the toy, preferring to sit on the counter and help their mother with real recipes. Baking was in her blood. Acting was too, but that gene had completely skipped her and gone straight to Sparx. The double dose of it had made her sister a sparkling, shiny actress.
That was fine.
Ember didn’t care.
What she did care about was winning the competition. The show, a reality television baking competition, had the coolest prize ever! It was a storefront in the city and a baking show.
Ember didn’t actually want the baking show. That part made her sweat more than hand piping a cake for a whole afternoon. But what she wanted, more than anything in the world, was her own bakery. Something all her own. Her parents had offered to front the money for the venture. They would have to skimp and scrape, but the Bradys were willing to do all kinds of sacrifices for their daughters. But that was not how Ember wanted to get her bakery.
She was dead set on working for it, on earning it with her mettle as a baker. What better way to prove that she was the best than in an actual baking competition judged by the world’s best pastry chefs? There wasn’t a better plan. This was it, and she wasn’t going to mess it up.
“What are you girls doing in here?” Liza Brady chided, waltzing into the kitchen. “Dinner is already on the table. It will get cold. I did not spend all day cooking up a storm for my daughters to eat a tepid meal.” She clapped her hands together. “Come now.”
With a backward glance toward the cupcakes, Ember followed her mother and sisters into the dining room.
Their father, Virgil, was already sitting down at the head of the table, sipping a creamy soup.
“I made lobster bisque,” Mom explained, tucking in on Dad’s left.
Sparx sat in her usual seat with her blond hair and keen brown eyes, eying the meal nervously. No doubt, in a few short moments, she would push away her bowl of delicious soup, claiming that she had to be careful because the network was on her ass about looking good again. It had been a refrain since Sparx was a teenager.
Cinder, the Brady family's baby, had brown hair and green eyes just like their mother. Her makeup was always done with expertise and flawlessness, making professional makeup artists weep with jealousy. Cinder grabbed her phone from her back pocket and snapped a few pictures of the table before posting it onto her social media, where there were millions of followers, hungry for her next post.
Ember wasn’t famous and renowned like her sisters, and she was honestly okay with it. Her own hair was auburn, like their father’s, and her eyes were a passable shade of brown. She had curves on her curves because she was a baker, and she refused to not taste every little thing she made. It wasn’t just about quality control. It was about good sense.
Life was too short to pass up eating a good macaroon, or perfect cookie, or delectable mousse. There were a lot of things to taste out there, and Ember wasn’t going to worry about her waistline.
“A toast,” Virgil took up his wineglass, raising it high above his head. “To Ember, who starts a new project, a new adventure, tomorrow. May you succeed!”
“May you succeed,” the rest of the family chorused their motto.
“How are you feeling?” Mom asked her, a worried frown pulling at her beautiful features. Liza knew her eldest was the shy, reserved one who wouldn’t do so well under the glaring limelight. “Not too nervous, I hope?”