Published in the United States of America
Shadowvale isn’t typical small town America. The sun never shines, the gates decide who enters, magic abounds, and every resident bears some kind of curse.
Most people think Nasha Black lives in Shadowvale because that’s where her father, one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, lives. But Nasha has another reason for staying in Shadowvale and it’s not just the bakery she owns and operates. She has a devastating curse of her own. One she’s never told a soul about.
Shadowvale has given chocolatier and dragon-shifter Charlie Ashborne a refuge from the reality of his cursed life. Until now. He’s been summoned to the dragon census, where all unmated dragons will be paired off. If he doesn’t show, the dragon council will come to him. His desire to protect Shadowvale means not only will he end up with a wife he doesn’t want, but the curse he’s kept hidden for so long will be exposed.
Facing certain humiliation, Charlie is about to leave for the census when an attractive woman shows up at his house, desperate for more of the chocolates Charlie sells in his shop. Nasha needs to know what magic he puts in his chocolate. She’s never tasted anything like it, literally, and it’s changed her life. Discovering he’s headed out of town pushes her to make a crazy offer. She’ll pretend to be his wife in exchange for his recipe. Seems fair enough.
Making a pact with a chocolate addict might not be the right move, but Charlie will do anything to avoid the dragon census mating games, so he jumps at the chance to claim Nasha as his wife for a week.
It seems like the perfect plan, until they find out the rules have changed, leaving them no choice but to compete in the games. Unexpectedly, they begin to fall for each other, amazed by what a good team they make. But as competitors try to tear them apart Charlie and Nasha wonder if they will ever taste sweet victory, or just the bitter dregs of defeat?
Nasha Black flipped on the lights in her bakery at exactly four A.M., just like she did every morning. The faint but familiar scents of flour, sugar, vanilla, chocolate, and coffee greeted her with the warmth of old friends.
Those scents were all that kept her going sometimes. They encouraged her. Told her she was working with wonderful ingredients. Reminded her that these were the flavors that made people happy.
Sure, she followed her recipes, too. That was a given. An ironclad rule, actually. In fact, she clung to those tried and tested equations, never deviating, never straying by a pinch or a dash or a dollop. Doing anything else would be foolish.
She went to a rack on the far wall, took down a clean apron, and slipped it on over her black T-shirt and black-and-white checkered print leggings. Then she began to gather her supplies and ingredients for the morning’s work.
Bread was first. Loaves of white, wheat topped with oats, and a real customer favorite, pumpernickel raisin.
Then she’d move on to muffins, three kinds today. Lemon crumb, apple streusel, and cranberry white chocolate chip. Once those were in the oven, she’d start on the pies. Blueberry, chocolate silk, apple, pumpkin, and blackberry.
Hmm. Blackberry sounded particularly good today. She’d make that the pie of the day. Even if it had been the pie of the day yesterday.
Cakes would be next. Today, she’d keep it simple. Vanilla buttercream, chocolate buttercream, and carrot. Or maybe a spice cake. She hadn’t quite decided that yet. She’d do enough batter to make both nine-inch cakes and several dozen cupcakes with each flavor.
Finally, she’d finish up with a few trays of brownies and some cookies. M&M, sugar, and molasses. Although, she’d been thinking about making some fruit and custard tarts, lately, too.
As she dug into the work, she glanced over at the notice board by the entrance to the retail part of the shop.
There were no special-order forms tacked up there, but that didn’t mean someone might not come in having just remembered they needed a cake for an occasion. It happened sometimes. And when it did, she made sure to do everything she could to fulfill their order in the time allotted. She was able to work with supernatural speed, so it was very rare that she had to turn down a request.
She hated having to say no to a customer. Black Horse Bakery was her life, and baking was her outlet.
It was also her way of giving back to the world, a way of balancing out the damage her father did because of his work.
Wasn’t his fault. It was just his job as one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. He was Famine. And if he didn’t do the job, someone else would take his place. Someone who might not be as prudent.
Another Horseman might spread hurt and hunger like wildflowers, without the care and compassion and utter heartbreak she saw in her father. He was a good man, regardless of what some people thought.
Sometimes, she liked to think of herself as Abundance, feeding people delicious things to counteract the work he had no choice but to do.
Because everything at her bakery was free. All people had to do was come in and ask for what they wanted.
To be completely honest, the delicious part was based on what she was told. She knew her creations looked good – she worked hard at making them as appealing as they could be. She also knew how wonderful they smelled.
But despite all of Nasha’s work, the actual flavors she produced remained a mystery. To her, buttercream was smooth, but nothing else. Cookies were soft and crumbly, but that was it. Fruit pies? Flaky and sticky. Bread? Chewy and dense. Cake? Light and spongy.
Even the premium coffee she served in her shop only came off as wet and hot, although she adored the aroma and the kick of caffeine.
The truth of all that was her deepest, darkest secret and no one, except for her father, knew what that secret was.
She was sure other citizens wondered what kept her in Shadowvale. After all, nearly everyone in this town was cursed in some way. But as far as anyone knew, she was here because of her father. She’d never told another soul that she was just as troubled as they were. Never hinted that she suffered on a daily basis, too. Never implied that she belonged here just as much as anyone else in this hidden-away, perpetually overcast town.
Because she did. But if the truth got out, she feared it would make her a laughingstock. Or worse, mean the end of her bakery.
The awful truth was that she, Nasha Black, owner of the most popular bakery in town, had never tasted anything in her life.
Neither had her father or her grandfather or her great-great grandmother. The curse had been passed down, apparently, straight through the line of those who’d served as Famine. Was it a sign that she was destined to take her father’s place? It certainly seemed that way.
Would that be such a bad thing? She really wasn’t sure.
Elbows deep in dough, she glanced at the time. She’d been working for almost two hours. Her two bakery employees, Clara and Brighton, would be in soon. Then things would really fly.
Emeranth Greer, Nasha’s most recent hire, would arrive at eight. Em was the new barista and mostly handled the coffee side of things. No baking for her, just coffee and serving customers.
Coffee was the only thing in the shop that cost money, but no one had yet to complain about that. She’d done it because there was another coffee shop in town, Deja Brew, and giving away free coffee wouldn’t be fair to them. Nasha was a big fan of fairness. There wasn’t enough of it in the world, if you asked her.