Thirty Days

Thirty Days

By:  Bibi Paterson  Ongoing
Language: English
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Set in London and Brighton, Thirty Days is a fabulously provocative romance series that gives you a very steamy love affair between a hot guy and an unsure heroine, baked goods and some rather unexpected twists and turns along the way. Shy and unassuming, Abigail James loves to bake. She dreams of opening her own dessert café but instead she spends her days working as a data analyst and sneaking in her cakes as the company's 'diet assassin' on the side. Taylor Hudson, the enigmatic owner of Hudson International, has been captivated by Abby’s innocence and quiet charm since the day she started working for the company. However, his history with women is marred by personal circumstances and he has vowed to stay away. A chance meeting sees Abby's world turned upside down when, drawn in by Taylor’s chocolate-coloured eyes and unexpected kindness, she starts on a journey of attraction that will see her heart and soul laid bare. While their attraction is mutual, both Abby and Taylor have their own inner demons that they need to overcome if their relationship can move forward for them to find their own 'happily ever after'.

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138 Chapters
'The course of true love never did run smooth'William ShakespeareI look up and stare at myself in the bathroom mirror. With annoyance I rub my panda eyes, cursing that I had not thought to buy waterproof mascara. Typical, I think to myself. The one day I actually took some effort in getting ready for work, everything is undone by a five-minute downpour at the bus stop. I glance down at my watch and realise that if I don't hurry, I am going to miss my opportunity to deliver my packages.Swiping at my eyes with a tissue, I manage to repair most of the black streaks hurriedly. With that done, I pick up my bags and, glancing around, sneak out of Hudson International's ladies' toilets. Taking a deep breath and summoning as much stealth as I can muster, I hurry down the corridor towards the staff kitchen, grateful to find it empty. Glancing over my shoulder, I quickly unpack my packages onto the counter."So you are the diet assassin, then?" The voice startles me, and I almost drop the bo
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I follow Michelle through to the boardroom, where the staff meeting is being held. This is the first time I have attended one of these meetings as they only happen quarterly, and I am somewhat surprised to see so many people in the room. So many in fact that the partition walls have been slid back from two of the meeting rooms to turn them into one huge space. As we file into the back, I glance around and realise that I definitely did not make enough cakes. But people seem to be happily sharing, so I breathe a sigh of relief.I am just about to dart off to grab a coffee off the table when a voice catches my attention. There, standing at the front of the room is my mystery man. All eyes have turned towards him as he welcomes everyone to the meeting.My heart plummets. This can't be good. I feel the heat starting to rise in my cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I lean over to Michelle’s ear and whisper, "Who's that?"Michelle looks over at me incredulously. "That's Taylor Hudson, you duh-bra
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My heart pounds as Taylor kisses my neck, his lips making their way from my earlobe down to the dip in my throat. He glances into my eyes with a wicked look before swooping down and capturing one of my nipples in his mouth. I find myself starting to writhe under his touch as he first laves my sensitive nib with his tongue, the swirling motion causing me to moan as arousal spikes through me.A hand reaches between my thighs. My breath catches as I feel first one and then two fingers slipping through my bush and exploring my folds until they find my sweet, sweet spot. Slowly Taylor starts mirroring the motion of his tongue with his finger, and it is all I can do to grip on to his shoulders as he hovers above me. The warmth in my pelvis spreads and becomes more intense by the minute as both his tongue and fingers continue their relentless assault on my senses."Please, Taylor," I beg, "I need you in me.""In a moment, my sweet," he reassures. Before I have a chance to respond, his mouth
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As I push my way into Alfredo's at nine-thirty on the dot, I mentally prepare myself for the Spanish Inquisition. For once Michelle is already there ahead of me, waiting with two steaming lattes and the biggest cinnamon bun I have ever seen."Oh my god," she sighs with a mouthful of crumbs. "You so have to try this.""Mmm, looks scrumptious." I eye the bun with delight, feeling ready to get everything off my chest. I settle down in my seat, breaking off a piece of the bun, and take a sip of my coffee."Come on, then. Spill the beans, Abby. I can't believe you have made me wait this long!""Um, well, okay …" I stammer, suddenly feeling rather shy about everything that has gone on over the last couple of days. I start off describing the event in the kitchen and work my way through until our encounter last night, omitting my dream as I don't think I am ready to share that with anyone!"Bloody hell, Abs, you are a dark horse." Michelle gives me the once-over, scrutinising me over her desi
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Muted light streams onto my face as I slowly become conscious. Images from last night start to flit through my head, and I start to sort through them one at a time, piecing together my journey from work to the pub to…shit. I slowly open one eye and then the other, knowing by the citrus scent around me that I am not at home in my own bed. Gingerly I move my head, waiting for the full impact of my hangover to hit. My head aches, but my stomach feels okay, so I prop myself up onto my elbows, taking in my surroundings. The exposed brick walls and the skylights confirm my worst fears…I am in Taylor's bed. I look around for him, straining my ears for the smallest sound, but there is nothing. I suddenly realise that while I am still in my top and pants, my jeans are missing. I push back the squishy duvet and swing my legs over the side of the bed, my feet sinking into the plush cream carpet. My stomach rolls, but I maintain control of the motion. It is only then that I notice my jeans hangi
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I wake with a start, sweat dripping and tears rolling down my face. I struggle to catch my breath as I try to dispel the overwhelming urge to bury my head back into my pillow and sob my heart out. I didn't think I had this much water in me, but it would appear the faucets have been opened and nothing will stop the tears from leaking out. Sleep did not come easy. Whenever I closed my eyes, all I could see was Nonna lying there dead. I am unsure as to what time I eventually fell asleep, but my dreams meant that I spent a restless night tossing and turning. A glance at the clock tells me that, despite the darkness, morning is here and it is time to get up. I shower and dress, my choice of clothing reflecting my dark mood and matching the dark circles under my eyes. I try to choke down a slice of toast, but my appetite has deserted me. I fill my travel mug with coffee and head out to the bus stop, knowing that I am still too early for work but not wanting to stay in my tiny, claustropho
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Work just about gets me through the waking hours, though I know I am starting to behave like a zombie through lack of sleep. My parents phone each evening to check if I am okay, and I try to force a cheerfulness into my demeanour that is clearly not natural. I decided not to go down to Brighton until the day of the funeral as I am still struggling to write my eulogy. Tonight I have to finish it, so I resist the urge to lose myself once again in the kitchen and force myself to sit down in front of my laptop.Strangely enough, once I start, this time I can't seem to stop. I fill page after page with funny, inconsequential stories about both her life and our life together. When I finally read the final draft and hit Print, I know I have produced something Nonna would like.It is after midnight, and I know I have to be up early, so I decide to take a shower but am interrupted by a ringing on the intercom. Startled, as I never have visitors, let alone ones at this time of night, I lift the
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The shrill of the alarm pierces my consciousness. The lack of Taylor's presence in my bed when I wake feels like déjà vu. As the reality of the day that lies ahead hits, my heart sinks. With leaden limbs I get myself into the shower, trying to blot out the image of Nonna dead on her kitchen floor that keeps resurfacing from my subconscious. It's not long before I am wrapped up in my heavy winter coat and scarf to ward off the autumn chill and pulling my case loaded up with a week's worth of my baking out the door and onto the main road to call a taxi to the station. I am just not in the mood for the bus today. I spend the journey attempting to analyse the situation with Taylor. I can't figure out why he keeps turning up when he has categorically stated that being with me can't happen. I can't help the attraction I feel, and I get the feeling that neither can he, but there is this big issue of him being my boss. Which of course on a rational level I completely understand. However, the
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Seconds turn into minutes, and before I know it several hours have passed and I am shattered, my face aching from the forced smile I have attached to my face. Every now and again, I would catch sight of Taylor, but as soon as I would go to intercept him, another of Nonna's friends would grab my arm and would want to start reminiscing. Eventually, I manage to extricate myself and slip out the back door into the small courtyard garden. The light of the afternoon is fading, and the shadows offer a good place to hide for a few minutes."Thirsty?" Taylor's voice startles me. I spin around to find him standing right next to me, holding up a glass of juice. I take it gratefully as I am feeling parched from all the talking. The juice is delicious and cool, soothing my vocal cords. "Thanks, Taylor." I smile up at him, feeling shy but curious. "Um, why are you here?" I suddenly feel like I have to get to the bottom of what is going on. "Why did you come today? Why did you come to my flat last
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Taylor moves around the kitchen with the ease of a practised chef. It is a pleasure watching his hands; his long fingers move swiftly, and I muse at what it would be like to feel them running along my skin. As if he knows what I am thinking, Taylor glances up and winks at me. I flush, a state that I feel like I am permanently in when I am around him. I take a large gulp of my cocktail, hoping to still my nerves, but it is not long before I feel the alcohol going to my head and I start to feel a bit glassy-eyed. Fortunately, it is not long before Taylor is sliding a steaming plate in front of me. The aroma has whetted my appetite, and I suddenly feel ravenous.Taylor rounds the island and comes to sit beside me. We eat in companionable silence for several minutes until the rumbling of my stomach starts to subside. "This is delicious. Thank you," I comment."You are very welcome." Taylor smiles at me, and I feel my cheeks going red again. We start chatting about inconsequential things,
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