By Susan Waggoner
Be cautious what you need for. . .Food author Annie Wilkins is on an show elevator to status and fortune, because of learn scientist/husband Tom's amazing invention: fat-free, carb-free, calorie-free chocolate that tastes higher than the genuine factor! as soon as lowered to writing walleye-on-a-stick articles for Minnesota Menus, now she's dwelling huge in exhibit homes and hobnobbing with the hoi polloi. Annie and "America's Sexiest Scientist" Tom fortunately settle for their new prestige because the nation's such a lot occurring wonderful Couple.But as a high-profile spokesperson, Annie's received a company accountability to alter her hair, her kind, and lose twenty-five kilos. Her youngsters have gotten too worldly too quick and Tom's popular for lots greater than simply his sweet. If this is often the yankee Dream, Annie must get up simply because immediately her marriage and her sanity are in jeopardy. . . and she's approximately to backside out on best!
Read or Download Better Than Chocolate PDF
Best women's fiction books
A new sequence from the writer of the elements warden NOVEL S, WHOÂ’S AS Â“Swift, sassy, and horny as Laurell okay. Hamilton. Â” (Mary Jo Putney)Once she used to be Cassiel, a Djinn of unlimited strength. Now, she has been reshaped in human flesh as punishment for defying her masterÂ—and residing one of the climate Wardens, whose strength she needs to faucet into frequently or she is going to die.
In a unique as hot and embracing as a relations kitchen, Barbara O’Neal explores the poignant, occasionally complicated relationships among moms and daughters—and the therapeutic magic of selfmade bread. expert baker Ramona Gallagher is a grasp of an paintings that has sustained her during the such a lot turbulent occasions, together with a child at fifteen and an unending family members feud.
Extra info for Better Than Chocolate
And this is one of the things I loved most about my husband—that even though he thought of himself as too plain and too tame to be exciting to women, he knew he was exciting to me, and that was the self he always brought to our bedroom. Remembering all this, I was freshly enthused about the new version of It. Tom made me wait another hour, though—“Until both children are in bed, Annie”—and then brought a wrapped object the size of a Filofax out of his briefcase. I peeled back the wrappings and inhaled.
What can I say? I was obsessed with It. By the time my walleye swam through cyberspace as a 28 Susan Waggoner ﬁfty-KB e-mail attachment, I was working my way through my second block of Tom’s synchocolate. Not that I’d eaten it all. No, though I’d eaten plenty. Mostly, I’d become fascinated with playing with the stuff. The ﬁrst day I melted it and watched it cool to room temperature, perfectly regaining its solidity. The next day I poured a melted cupful on a cookie sheet, spread it out with a spatula, waited for it to cool, and used our pizza wheel to cut it into ﬁrm but deliciously silken little wafers.
Why don’t you come visit us? It’s so lovely here, and Jeff and Sophie would absolutely adore . ” That left my older sister, Barb. But telling her seemed like a violation. Five years apart in age, we’d always been partners at the bottom of the economic heap, me because of my foray into academia, Barb because she’d had the guts to marry a musician. Jay taught music during the day and lived for the nights when the Kings of Swing, the big band he played in, performed for just enough money to keep them all in sheet music.