Chapter One

This is it. Your time is now.

Sloane Dell beamed at Candace, her boss and the director of marketing at Organic Chemistry, who was seated across the glass desk from her. Sloane had put in the hours, the less than desirable assignments which sometimes included literally scooping up dog poop, as a social media assistant at the organic pet food company for the last three years. But it was all for a good cause. The promotion to social media manager was about to be hers. Finally.

Candace’s head was bent down as she reviewed Sloane’s work file, no doubt cataloging all the metaphorical gold stars Sloane had received from colleagues over the years.

Sloane is the best! Sloane is such a team player! Sloane comes up with the best, most innovative ideas! We couldn’t survive without her!

Okay, maybe that last one wouldn’t be in there, even though it was true. She wasn’t cocky, but she loved and was good at her job.

Sloane’s smile spread as Candace lifted her head, her eyes narrowing slightly as she nodded to herself. Her bright pink lipstick had started to bleed in the right corner.

Concentrate, Sloane! Now’s not the time.

Candace cleared her throat and adjusted the black frames that always seemed to be slipping down her nose. “Thanks for coming to see me, Sloane. I wanted to let you know we enjoy having you here at Organic Chemistry.”

Here it came. The big promotion. Sloane’s chest swelled with hope and excitement. She was already starting to think of all the ideas she wanted to implement to further the company’s goals, the student loan payments she could increase…

 “…believe you still need more experience before you can move up to the manager position.”

“Tha—” The rest of that word petered out as Candace’s words sank through Sloane’s body like a lead stone, anchoring her to the stiff leather chair.

What the fuck?

Only the self-control she’d learned to assert over herself even through the most trying of times stopped her from blurting out that way too real question. Instead, she went with the much more sedate, more “professional” “Excuse me? Could you repeat that please?”

Candace sighed and pushed up her glasses again. “Yes, it’s true. We agonized over this decision, but don’t feel putting you in a position you’re not quite ready for is the right move for you. It can only hurt your career.”

Such bullshit. Over the past two years, she’d put in countless hours for this company, come up with countless ideas that had tripled their social media followers with several viral campaigns and shown  direct correlation to an increase in sales only for her immediate supervisor, the assistant director Daniel, to take the credit. She’d let him get away with it because Sloane was a team player. And now her generosity had officially blown up in her face.

What a bunch of horseshit. Cow shit. Bear shit. Whatever excretions from whatever animal you could think of.

But she had to play the game.

After all, this was corporate America, where fakeness ruled and Black women were often punished for having the unmitigated gall to be both Black and female, so she was going to smile and play the game with the sunshiney-est smile possible. It was the only way to reach her ultimate goal of receiving the promotion she most definitely deserved. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”

Candace pressed a hand to her chest, the pink shade of her polish perfectly matching her lipstick because appearances were always important. Her beady little green eyes gave off earnest vibes. “Thank you so much for understanding that this was such a tough decision for us. We agonized, but truly think this is the best for you.”

“I quit.”

Sloane froze. Wait. Who said that? The voice sounded familiar. Wait. She, Sloane Renee Dell, had said that. Sloane’s chest filled, not with panic, as she’d initially assumed, but a sense of rightness. Damn right she quit.

Candace’s mouth had fallen open in pure shock, her eyes bugging out behind her very tasteful, yet very expensive frames.

Sloane rose as a sense of purpose surged throughout her entire body. “I deserved that promotion. You know it. I know it. Everyone in this office knows it, and I’m not going to let you gaslight me into thinking it’s my fault you didn’t offer it to me. Consider this my resignation letter. I won’t need two weeks.”

Sloane whirled and strode confidently out of the office. With laser focus, she headed to her little cube because offices were reserved for managers and directors and the like and not little pesky assistants who apparently didn’t deserve promotions. She quickly collected the few personal items she kept on her desk—the framed photo of her mom and siblings, her lucky Shamrock plushy—and headed for the elevator.

Bethany, who worked in accounting, blinked when she saw Sloane. “Where are you going, Sloane?”

“I quit!”

Perhaps she’d said that a little too loudly because heads began popping over the top of cubicle walls like the creatures in the Whack-A-Mole arcade. She regally nodded at them all and gave them her best Duchess Meghan wave as she glided down the hall.

Her best friend, Felicia, the admin assistant, gave her a questioning look as she passed the front desk. Sloane shook her head but didn’t stop. Later. She would explain later. If she stopped now, she’d end up screaming at the top of her lungs about the injustice of it all and wind up being escorted off the property by building security. 

Reality didn’t hit her until she was behind the wheel of her Mazda. Her vision went hazy for a second as she sucked in unsteady breaths.

Oh, God. What had she done? She had bills to pay. Student loans to whittle away at. She couldn’t quit a good job without another one lined up. But she had. She pressed a shaky hand to her abdomen. That mocha latte she’d treated herself to as a midday snack and pre-promotion celebration was now curdling in her stomach with the fury of sour milk.

But if the powers that be didn’t have her back, did she really want to work there?

No. She. Did. Not.

Anger surged in her anew. She hit the steering wheel with a balled-up fist. “How fucking dare they?”

Sloane screwed her eyes shut and let out her best primal scream, stretching her vocal cords to their limits, as she poured out her frustration. Damn, that felt good.

A few seconds later, her eyes fluttered open. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel and put the car in the reverse.

Time to get as far away from the job she’d poured blood, sweat, and way too many tears into as she possibly could. Next stop was home to wallow in peace. Eat ice cream, binge some good old-fashioned reality TV that didn’t require much thinking on her part other than judging the decisions people made. Perfect.

At a red light, she pulled the car to a stop and stared unseeing out the windshield, her brain still trying to process the last fifteen minutes. And failing. How could they do this to her? To go from being in line for a promotion to no-go because she supposedly hadn’t hacked it in an instant. Maybe she’d add a nice bottle of wine to her ice cream and TV plans.

Buzz.

Sloane glanced at the screen on the dashboard. Her older sister, Shana, was calling. No surprise. It was like she had a sixth sense when her baby sister was in distress. Sloane pressed the icon on the screen to send the call to voicemail. While she loved her sister dearly, she couldn’t talk to her right now. Not when she was vacillating between succumbing to a blubbering crying jag or a thunderous roar. Both were worthy options she would most likely indulge in when she got home.

The light turned green. Sloane took her foot off the brake…and jerked the steering wheel to the right. Actually, she had a better idea. Well, the wallowing with ice cream and wine was still on the table. After all, she no longer had a job. She now had all the time in the world to wallow. But first, she needed sugar in another form. And she knew the best place in San Diego to get some.

Sugar Blitz Cupcakes, owned, or rather co-owned, by her older brother, Donovan.

The shop made the biggest and best cupcakes in California and she needed to stuff her face with one RIGHT NOW. And maybe get some advice from her brother. While Shana would go storming into Organic Chemistry on her behalf to demand they give her younger sibling that promotion, Donovan was a bit more pragmatic.

 Only two years older than her, he was always a rock, always there with some sensible advice. And since the only thought ping ponging through her brain was “You quit a decent job. You quit a decent job,” maybe he could convince her that this was not the worst thing in the world. He was great at advice. Always ready with the “when one door closes, another one opens, we’ll figure this out, blah blah blah” stuff. She was ready to eat that cliché shit up.

Ten minutes later, she entered the cupcakery and scanned the bright, open space for her brother. The place was packed with customers, laughing and enjoying themselves. Maybe the patrons all had the day off. Or maybe they were on vacation. Hell, maybe they were independently wealthy and didn’t have to worry about pesky things like jobs and rent.

Panic sank its sharp claws into her stomach lining again.

Okay, enough of that. Sloane took a deep breath, counted to five, and scanned the room again. No, her brother wasn’t here. Neither were his two partners, August and Nicholas. She nodded at Ella, a part-time worker and p, who was manning the front counter.

Donovan and his partners had done a great job over the past year of establishing the cupcakery as a vital part of the surrounding community. Yellow walls with photos of her brother and his partners and some of the regulars adorned them. It was a warm, welcoming space.

Which was great, but not why she was here. Maybe her brother was in his office. He loved sitting in there and poring over numbers when he wasn’t wreaking havoc on a football field as a member of the San Diego Knights.

She weaved her way through the tables and down the hall to his office. She briskly knocked on the closed door. When no answer was forthcoming from inside, she tried the knob. It turned easily in her hand.

The office was empty. Crap.

No job, no brother, no cupcakes as of yet. Could this day get any worse?

Wait. No. No need to put that thought into the universe and tempt fate. Things could always get worse.

Sloane squared her shoulders. Okay, then. One last place to check—the kitchen. If Donovan wasn’t there, maybe she’d find Nicholas, the head baker, there creating the bakery’s soon-to-be newest sensation. She could charm one of his delicacies out of him. Her lips crooked. Not that he would need much charming. The man had a black belt in flirting.

Her mouth watered as she neared the kitchen in the back of the building. Baking was definitely happening inside. The fresh, warm scents of sugar, vanilla, and lemon floated through the air. Lemon meringue cupcakes? Also known as her favorite? Yes, please.

She pushed the door open and hurried inside. But again, she was disappointed. No brother, no Nicholas, no cupcakes cooling on the counter waiting for her to devour, err—taste test—them.

The good news was the aroma of cupcakes was stronger here. She was one step closer to heaven. Her eyes locked on the oven across the room. It was on. Her much-needed reward waited inside. Drawn to the oven like bees to honey, she marched across the room.

Until a butt entered her line of vision. An exceptional butt. Extraordinary really. Perfectly Rounded and muscular. Biteable. Sloane halted. Suddenly, finding her brother or getting to cupcakes were no longer her top priorities. Time to appease a different type of hunger. One she didn’t allow herself to indulge in much because embarrassing the shit out of herself once was more than enough times to last a lifetime. Yeah... but this was different. The owner of the butt couldn’t see her, so ogling was allowed.

He was on his knees, his head underneath a sink as he reached, unsuccessfully based on his colorful curses, for something deep inside.

“Shitdamnfuck,” he muttered.

“You okay there?” she called out, biting her lip to stop a giggle from escaping.

Thwack! His upper body jerked upward, making an unpleasant sound.

More colorful curses followed as August Hodges, the third co-owner of Sugar Blitz, scooted back, patting the spot on his head where he’d bashed it against the counter.

Sloane grimaced in equal measures of sympathy and guilt. “Ouch. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He cocked his head to the side and glared up at her. “Sloane.”

All growly and annoyed. And panty-melting. If one was interested in having one’s panties melted off, and she most certainly was not. Not by him anyway.

Not anymore.

He wiped away water dripping down his impressive cheekbones. With grace that belied his large frame, he rose to his feet. Well, almost. His right foot slipped on a small puddle of water—maybe that was the reason for the cursing—and he fell romantically, like a damsel in distress in every romcom known to mankind, into her waiting arms. Well, sorta.

More like stumbled into her like a runaway bowling ball. And given that she was five-five and he outweighed her by many, many pounds, it didn’t go well for her. She staggered back and, OMG, he came with her, the firmness of his chest pressing into hers, his arms caging her against the counter behind her. His body was shockingly warm. And unshockingly, deliciously hard.  

Her eyes sought his of their own volition. Once upon a time she’d thought he’d had the most beautiful pair of eyes she’d ever seen. They were the color of a deep maple. She’d spent way too much time as besotted teen trying to pinpoint the exact color. Molasses was too light, chocolate too dark. Once upon a time. They’d darkened. Just a tad like he too felt the electric currents darting through her system.

Her breath hitched as it dawned on her that with their bodies pressed together like this they were the closest they’d been since…

He jumped back like she was infected with cooties and crossed his arms, both roped with thick muscle, over the impressive chest she’d just gotten reacquainted with. “What are you doing here?”

Yeah, he still wasn’t pleased to see her. Nothing new there.