Only a Taste E-Book

L. Moone

• Herausgeber: eXplicitTales Romance
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Some of us have to choose; family, or love?

Mandi: This was supposed to be my final farwell; my last night of freedom before moving back in with my conservative Punjabi parents. One night without a curfew; without any questions about where I'm going or who I'm meeting. I never expected to spend it with a man, but I'll take that too. Why not?

The only problem is, he might be a keeper and my family will never approve. They've got their hearts set on marrying me off to a suitable boy from our own community, not some white man I had a one night stand with...

Callum: I'm used to getting what I want in my professional life as well as my personal one; such is life when you're a celebrity chef. One night in Brighton shows me that sometimes it's nice to leave all that behind and focus on the basics.

Mandi doesn't seem to care that I'm rich and famous; she's just looking for one night of fun and has chosen to spend it with me. But once I've got a taste of what I could share with her, how will I be able to let her go?

This interracial/multicultural romance features a British Asian woman and her struggle between the conservative family values she grew up with and her desire to create her own future with a partner of her choice. Will she be able to leave her feelings for Callum behind and commit to the arranged marriage her parents have envisioned for her?

Read on and find out.

Chance Encounters is a series of stand-alone contemporary romances set in jolly old England, following a set of loosely connected women as they find love in unexpected places. What do they have in common? When they meet their match, it is purely by chance, yet passion strikes immediately. They'll have to deal with the consequences of their actions once the sun comes up...

Leseprobe

Only a Taste

A Steamy Multicultural Romance by L. Moone

When Mandi is forced to move back in with her conservative Punjabi parents, she’s preparing to say goodbye to all the freedoms she’s enjoyed so far: no curfews, no questions, and the freedom to date or hang out with whoever she wants. She spends her last night of independence with Callum, whom she has only just met.Sparks fly almost immediately. Can she say goodbye?

TV Chef Callum Byrne is used to getting what he wants, both from relationships and life in general. From his first meeting with Mandi, he realises she’s refreshingly different: his fame doesn’t impress her much. She tells him she’s only looking for one night of fun. Will he let her go?

© 2015 L. Moone

Published by eXplicitTales

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Table of Contents

Only a Taste

Recipe for Passion (Preview)

Author's Note

Chapter One

All my belongings are neatly packed into cardboard boxes, but all I feel is chaos inside.

I don't want to go. I don't want to leave this little student flat which I've been sharing with Sarah for the past three years. But with no money or prospects, I don't have a choice.

I let out a deep sigh and sink down on the edge of the sofa.

"You alright, Mandi?" Sarah asks, handing me a cup of tea. Strong yet milky, just how I like it.

I just shrug.

"This sucks, hey." She puts her hand on my shoulder.

"Life's a bitch, especially when your family can't accept that in this country, things work a little differently," I respond.

"At least you won't have to worry about laundry. Or rent." Sarah is only half joking. Moving back home to act like the perfect Punjabi daughter to my parents will have some—admittedly small—benefits. Mostly it's a big, fat negative though.

"Yeah, I get to relive my childhood. Yay." I rest my head in my hands and try not to panic.

No more pretending to be a grown-up at twenty-three. No more staying out with Sarah—or anyone else for that matter—until the clubs close and our feet stop cooperating. No more freedom to hang out with anyone of the opposite gender, and forget about inviting a guy home with me.

Sure, I'll have a job to go to, with Mr. Gupta—Dad's friend, but that's hardly a pleasing prospect

"I'll miss you, you know." Sarah plops down next to me and puts her arm around me.

"Yeah, I'll miss you too."

"OK, this is bullshit." Sarah lets go of me and sits upright. "It's sad you have to move back in with your folks, but it's not like anyone died. They're not expecting you until tomorrow. Let's go do something!"

"Like what?" I ask, while still feeling way too sorry for myself to really care.

"I dunno. It's a nice, sunny day, I don't have anything on, neither do you. Let's just drive down to Brighton or something." She's lost her mind.

"And then what? I'm broke, remember? That's why I'm moving back in the first place."

"How much do you have exactly?" She grins at me expectantly.

"I dunno, about a tenner in cash, plus perhaps fifty in the bank?"

"Great! Get dressed." Sarah jumps up, visibly excited.

I stare at her in disbelief but once she's set on something, Sarah cannot be deterred. She grabs my hand and starts dragging me off the sofa and towards the large suitcase that contains all my clothes.

"What's the plan exactly?" I wonder out loud. Does she even have a plan?

"We drive down, hang out at the beach, eat fish and chips, get a bit of a tan." She looks over at me; my skin is already pre-bronzed of course. "OK, so I'll get a bit of a tan—head to the nearest pub or whatever, get sloshed. Dance, enjoy ourselves, have a proper farewell party for you. What do you say?"

"You did hear me when I said I have literally no money?"

Sarah shrugs. "Since when do we have to pay for our own drinks when we go out?"

She makes a fair point. But when we're done partying, then what? "I'm sure even the cheapest guest house down there would wipe me out though."

"Who said anything about a guest house? I'm not planning on sleeping! Plus, we can always crash in the car."

Sometimes she has the craziest ideas. But I have to admit that the prospect of being all but grounded with my parents breathing down my neck every day is a powerful motivator to go along with her spontaneity. What have I got to lose?

"Fine. You win."

She winks at me. "Admit it, we both win."

For all my earlier grumpiness, I can't suppress a smile now. Within minutes we've thrown on colorful summer dresses—bikini underneath of course—and shoved a random collection of supplies into a pair of beach-ready canvas bags. Towel, sunscreen, sunglasses, plus a couple of books—check.

Before I have the chance to change my mind, she's herded me into her piece-of-shit car which sounds so rattly I'm surprised nothing of note has fallen off it yet. The stereo—possibly the best part of the entire car—does its best to drown out the traffic noises and creaks with loud music. I don't care what happens anymore, today I still get to be me, not who my folks expect me to be.

The traffic has been horrendous, and the parking situation is worse. But at last, at just after four—three hours after setting off—we finally make it to Brighton beach.

As I take my sandals off and try to follow her towards an empty spot among the sunbathing crowds, I remember why I fucking hate Brighton as a beach. Who the hell decided it's a good idea to sunbathe on rough gravel? The stones cut into my feet with every step, causing me to swear under my breath.

"What's that?" Sarah turns and asks.

"Nothing.Bloody stones." I try to tiptoe ahead, but it doesn't help. In the end I decide to put my shoes back on.

"No pain no gain, darling."

Whatever.

We manage to find a spot between some giggly teenagers and a family with a crying toddler. Not how I had wanted to spend my last afternoon of freedom, but choices are limited when the entire south of England seems to have congregated on the same stretch of stony coastline.

"Put sunscreen on me?" Sarah asks, handing me a bottle.

I do my best coating her pale back, not leaving any spots, but I already know it's hopeless. She'll be bright red within an hour, or two at the most. I would put money on it.

"Me too, please," I request when I'm done doing her.

"You sure you need it?"

"Hey, just because I have darker skin than you, doesn't mean I'm immune to cancer." I push the bottle into her hand and turn around, lifting my hair up to give her room.

"Fair point."

Soon we're both sticky, but reasonably protected against the rays. I lie down on my towel, keeping my beach bag behind my head as sort of a pillow while I decide to make a start on the novel I brought. Sarah has other ideas though.

"Don't you want to go in the water?" she asks.

Not really, no. I shake my head and open my book to the first page.

"Come on!"

"I can't swim!" I protest.

"We won't go that far."

I put the paperback down and observe the waves, rolling in and crashing against the stones up ahead.

"Don't be a spoilsport!" Sarah insists.

"Fine. Fine! But if it's cold, I'm not doing it."

The sun is burning down onto the beach, if it wasn't for the light breeze, we'd be getting cooked. Still, the idea of cooling my toes in the water isn't so bad. Almost attractive, if it wasn't for the hellish walk to get there. Once again, I seem to have an uncanny ability to place my feet onto the sharpest rocks I can find. I'm surprised I'm not bleeding yet.

Sarah meanwhile is about ten feet ahead of me, rushing towards the sea much more eagerly, as if she's impervious to the pain of walking on hot, pokey stones.

"Oh my God, it's lovely! Not cold at all," Sarah exclaims as she takes the first steps into the water.

I soon follow, finding a definite chill travelling up my spine when I take the first dip. Then, I must admit it's pleasantly cooling.

As soon as I'm knee-deep in the water, a wave comes and wets most of the rest of me too. I squeal, trying to regain my balance, while Sarah's laugh rings loudly in my ear. It takes all sorts of inelegant acrobatics for me not to fall over. I can just imagine the spectacle that must have been; me trying to balance my rather solidly built frame in the waves.

"Very funny," I remark dryly, while Sarah continues to giggle at me.

"It was. You should've seen yourself."

Emboldened by a desire for revenge, I take a few steps in her direction and try to splash water at her. She promptly dives down under the water, evading me and wetting the rest of her body in the process, ruining my plans. No matter, I'll get you sooner or later!

When she pops up again, she gives me a wide smile.

"See? It's fun!"

Another wave rolls in and she paddles along with it effortlessly, while I'm again almost thrown off my feet. But I refuse to go in further where the waves are less intense. Just because I'm grumpy about moving back home doesn't mean I'm ready to drown myself.

Five, maybe ten minutes pass while we continue to soak ourselves. It occurs to me that our stuff is sitting unguarded in a crowd of strangers, and I decide to head back.

"You enjoy yourself. I'm going to read now," I call out to Sarah, who has gotten distracted by a stray volleyball, thrown in her direction by a group of guys also enjoying the waves.

"Fine, see ya!" She waves at me, then throws the ball back to one of them. Well, I guess she's not going to get bored at this rate.

I'm in the process of limping back to my towel, when my stomach starts to growl. Of course, in our hurry to get out of the house, neither of us bothered with lunch, nor packed any snacks. A quick scan of the surrounding area reveals that the only thing somewhat nearby is a food truck close to where we left the boulevard. That's one hell of a walk.

Needs must, so I grudgingly take my wallet and phone out of my bag and go on limping over the hot stones. Why couldn't we have gone to a sandy beach instead?

Chapter Two : Callum

"Mr. Byrne, I can assure you that you won't find a better location for your new restaurant in all of Brighton." The estate agent flashes his extra-white teeth. He looks almost like a shark, readying himself to tear his prey to pieces—me in this case.

"The rent is too high; it won't be viable," I argue, while looking around the empty building again. A lot of decorating would be needed as well. It's too much.

"Think of the footfall!" He points out the window which is currently partially obscured by white paint. Still, masses of day-trippers can be seen from where we stand.

"How about you speak to the owners again and let me know if the lease is negotiable? It will take a lot of investment to bring this property up to scratch." I offer him my hand, signaling the end of the viewing, as well as the discussion. If he comes down enough, I may consider this property, otherwise, it's back to the drawing board.

"Very well. Thank you very much for your time." The estate agent shakes my hand slightly less enthusiastically than at the beginning of the meeting.

After leaving the empty shop, we say our goodbyes and go our separate ways.

It's a beautiful day, deep blue skies with not a cloud in sight. Warm too, the surging temperatures of our current summer heat wave evident in the amount of exposed skin outside. Apparently, I'm overdressed. Swimming trunks and bikinis, that's Brighton's dress code in the summer. I stand out like a sore thumb in my jeans and button-up shirt.

The footfall would be good here, though I'd expect my new restaurant to quickly become bookings-only once the new show airs. Perhaps I should consider a location that's a little further away from the madding crowds, and hopefully more affordable. I don't want to have to shutter up the place as soon as I'm no longer on TV.

Enough work for one day though. Today is too lovely to waste.

The beach is crowded. So much so, I'm not at all tempted to go near it. Perhaps if I walk further out towards the western side of town I'll find some peace and quiet. But not without sampling some of the local refreshments. The only establishment not selling fish and chips around here seems to be the ice cream truck parked up on the pavement. There's a queue of people already waiting, but I can't help myself. Gelato will do that to a person.

I join one of the two queues and wait my turn. It takes a while, but it'll be worth it.

"One scoop of rum and raisin, please," I say, shocked to find that the young woman to my left has word-for-word ordered the exact same thing. The two guys behind the counter look at each other and pause.

"Okay, you're going to have to sort this out between yourselves," my guy says. "We've only got one scoop left."

Looking over at my competition, I'm struck by her striking feminine beauty. Big brown eyes gaze up at me, a mixture of disappointment and hope. Her full lips half-parted as if she's about to say something, but something interrupted her. I find myself uncharacteristically reluctant to speak up first, but it looks like I have no choice.

"Let's flip a coin for it," I attempt a joke.

Her stare tells me I failed. My eyes are quickly drawn to her hand, clutching a purple leather wallet. No ring, no tan line where one might have been. She looks pretty young, but not inappropriately so.

"I can just get something else," she whispers at last. Her eyes are still glued to me. Did she recognize me and that's why she's staring? Or is it something else? Have I got something stuck in my teeth?

"I hope you won't take this the wrong way." I pause, while she raises an eyebrow.

My guy, who decided to serve the customer behind me instead of waiting for us to resolve our gelato stand-off, pauses mid-conversation. He's clearly listening in to our exchange.

The black-haired beauty patiently waits for me to finish, but something in her body language has changed. I'm sure she gets this all the time. Fuck, I feel like a creep for even trying.

"You have it." I turn to face the chalkboard again, ready to pick another flavor. "I'll have tiramisu," I tell the guy behind the counter, who just shrugs. I guess he was looking forward to watching me get shot down, had I actually made a move.

Meanwhile, the younger guy hands the woman her scoop of rum and raisin in a cone, which she accepts with a smile. God, what a radiant smile. She takes her change and turns, walking off towards the beach. I quickly take my cup and impossibly tiny spoon and rush after her.

"Excuse me, miss," I say, when I catch up with her a few steps ahead.

She turns and stares at me again. How the hell do I do this without coming across like a total douche bag? Funnily enough, coming across like a douche has never been much of a concern. You win some you lose some, and ever since the first season of my show aired years ago, I haven't really had to work hard to get female attention. But there's something different about this one. I wonder if much of my interest in her is caused by how hard she's making things?

"Yes?" she asks, sounding stand-offish. Her rich amber-colored eyes are too distracting, I almost forget what I was about to say.

"I was wondering if I could take you out to dinner?" I ask at last.

She scrutinizes me from head to toe, as she considers the question. Perhaps she's wondering if it's worth the sacrifice to stick the ice cream in my face.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" she says finally.

Normally, I may have been more than happy to explain, but not this time. Oh yeah, I'm on TV, seems way too tacky. So I shrug. "Maybe I just have one of those faces?"

My answer makes her pause as she cocks her head and looks me right in the eye. Shit, she can tell I'm bullshitting her.

"Where would you take me?" She has a lick of ice cream, rescuing some droplets that were about to dribble off the side of the cone.

I hadn't thought that far ahead. What is it about this woman that she throws me off so much?

"That entirely depends on what type of food you like."

A hint of a smile plays on her lips.

"I'm here with a friend. Is she invited for dinner as well?"

Crap .

Finally a full grin does appear on her face. "No need to look so shocked, I'm only joking."

I smile back at her, relieved to have not made a complete ass of myself. Yet.

"But I'd better let her know anyway." She turns to scan the beach stretching out ahead of us, before facing me again. "So. What time and where?"

"Nine? Here? Unless you have a better idea."