Diane Saxon Blog Spot

The sharp tang of citrus coated his tongue and made him swallow in rapid succession as his mouth watered. The babe was at it again. What was she baking tonight? Would he get a chance to scoop some of the makings out of the bowl? Silent, he slipped into the kitchen, shifted into human form and studied the scene before him. Lemons, bright yellow, with a fresh zesty scent, not dissimilar to hers, only Catherine’s was overlaid with the sweet flavors of honey. Butter and sugar were all measured out as Catherine scraped the rind off the lemons adding it into the bowl and setting the mixer to beat in a loud rhythm that disguised his approach. Comfortable in his nakedness, he slipped his arms around her, snuggled her back into his chest, tucked his face into her neck and nuzzled. Nu uh, there was no better scent than Catherine. “Whatcha making?” She switched off the beaters, glanced at the almost white mixture.“Hot Lemon Pudding.” He let out a drawn out sigh of l...

“Hmm, something smells good.” He nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck absorbing her scent. She always smelled sweet and womanly. “It’s a boiled fruit cake.” “A boiled cake?” Her body moved with the chuckle and he tightened his arms around her to appreciate it more, he snuggled her back closer to his chest as he peered over her shoulder. “Yep, it’s easy, see.” She fluttered fine, long fingers at the cake. It looked normal enough. The smell had his mouth watering. Then again, her smell had his mouth watering too. He was torn. Grab the babe and run for the bedroom or sample the cake? Could he have his cake and… Her sharp elbow to his ribs grabbed his attention again. “See, you dump all the ingredients into a pan, sultanas, raisins, cherries, water, butter, sugar. Boil it up for 15 minutes. Take it off the heat and when it’s cool, you simply throw in an egg, flour and spices. Pop it in a tin and bake for an hour.” She sliced the cake in two. Showed him the m...

  The bittersweet smell of dark chocolate filled the kitchen, making his mouth water almost as much as the curvy woman swiping the melted goo over sheets of acetate. “You need to let it cool a little before you put it on or it curls the sheets.” With a delicate hand she slid the sheets into the fridge to set. Her warm cinnamon eyes met his. “You don’t need to watch.” He rested his elbow on the counter and grinned. “Yeah, I do.” Her responding smile made his heart warm. He watched her cute butt-wiggle while she measured ingredients into the mixer, shimmying to the sound of Adele with a fire in her heart. Much like the one in his. Thick chocolate frosting was whipped up then smoothed all over the three tier cake. Tempted to dip his finger in, he raised his hand. “Don’t think about it.” Like he wouldn’t dream of it, he rested his chin on his hand as though that had been his plan all along. She knew him so well, the gleam in her eye told him ...

"Whatcha doin'?" "Making a cake." "For me?" He leaned on the kitchen counter, rested his chin on his fist and gazed at the luscious babe intent on her creation. He could never get enough of her. Her full scrumptious lips twitched into a smile and made him want to nibble at them. "Nope." The early morning light slanted across her smooth delicate skin and made her golden eyes glow with pleasure at doing the work she loved. "What type of cake?" Her smile widened, she slid softened butter into the mixer and poured in fine sugar. "A chocolate wedding cake for a friend. Three layers, each cake different. This is the bottom layer. It's a Marble cake." "My favourite..." The harsh thrash of the beaters drowned out his voice before he could ask if he could have some. He sighed. No chance of having any of anything until she was done. His head throbbed and he wondered how she could possibly bear ...

I love writing and the more I write, the more I love it. The characters in my head are allowed so much more freedom these days and many of the scenarios I dwell on don't actually make it to my books but they contribute to what I have learnt is "back story" or "world building. In my latest paranormal short story - more about that another day - my heroine lives in a restricted environment, where she can only dream of her own passion of cooking, baking, creating. I won't spoil the storyline but I thought I would share my heroine's back story. She has no name yet, but I hope by the time I investigate her world I may be inspired to name her. Or hopefully one of my readers will. She stripped the canes bare, gently placing the black shiny fruit into her wicker basket. She'd heard it was a good idea to use an Afro comb, run it through the stems to pop the blackcurrants off, but she preferred to use her hands. The cool shade of her house greeted her as...