A Novel Kitchen Novels & Stories

~ LENA ~ The first thing that greeted me when I opened the kitchen door was the delicious aroma of breakfast. The kitchen was huge, almost the size of a small apartment. Soft morning light filtered through the windows, touching the wide marble counters and stainless steel appliances lining the walls. A long kitchen island stood at the center of the room, its smooth surface gleaming faintly in the light. Pancakes were stacked on a plate nearby. Something sizzled softly on the stove, the scent mingling with the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingering in the air.

Lucien The sleek black quartz kitchen island of my penthouse was filled with various ingredients, a view that used to be completely unfamiliar to its surface. But nowadays, with me staying in the penthouse all the time, my little swan had decided to cook every day. The kitchen had never been so thoroughly used, and the slight chaos of it looked so... domestic. I leaned back in my dining chair, my eyes staring at the small back that had been lying next to me in my bed these past couple of days.

The majority were historical fiction by authors I recognised, but the bottom shelf appeared to be crime thrillers. “Thank you for the invitation, Helena.” I turned towards the kitchen as I spoke, where Helena was stirring a saucepan on the gleaming white freestanding stove. Small sections of pine units and a granite worktop flanked her. Unlike Jackson’s cabin, their island had a sink and a separate white porcelain draining board. The room was L-shaped, and in the final section was a four-seater dining table.

Silence. The kitchen’s aroma drew her in, and she nearly groaned. This was a chef’s dream—gleaming wooden cabinets that blended with the natural surroundings, a massive stove, and double ovens that screamed serious cooking. Nita loved baking, though she wasn’t on Tally or Gerri’s level. She hadn’t poisoned anyone yet, so that was a win. This kitchen alone earned her mystery date points, even if he was a no-show.

There was only one other person in the apartment. "Ares?" I called out, my voice tight. ... Ares While Kia was occupied in the bathroom, I had a clipboard in hand and a mission to complete. I had decided that failure in the kitchen was no longer an option. Just yesterday, I bought a cookbook with "Beginner Friendly" stamped across the cover in bright letters. "The CEO of Vueravista does not do average," I muttered, flipping past pictures of salads. "She is not going to find out I can't cook a proper meal. Master Chef Ares starts today."

He looked so hot. Definitely not hot to be hers. "Yeah, Sure." Together, they walked to the kitchen, it smelled like chicken pie, Zoey had no idea what it was like to even taste her mother's food. Priya never made their meals, their kitchen always smells like something made out of money, you know, when you go to a fancy restaurant, pay a thousand dollars for a meal and you realize it's just food. That was the way their kitchen smelt back home. Nova leaned against the counter, before moving towards the sink, "I know everything that happened between you and Dexter." She says in a hushed voice.

She looked a little awkward before finally speaking softly, “Could you take me to the kitchen? I want to prepare breakfast for Master Adrian.” The title sounded unfamiliar on her tongue. However, the head butler simply nodded respectfully. “Of course, Madam.” He then gestured for Livia to follow him. A few moments later— Livia stopped once again. Her eyes widened as she looked at the enormous kitchen before her. The room looked more like the kitchen of a luxurious restaurant than a private home kitchen. Everything appeared spotless, modern, and perfectly organized. The cooking equipment was neatly arranged with technology she had never seen before.

I sighed with relief as I took a sip of my coffee. That was a very good way to get rid of Thelma Davies. ******* I moved around Mr Ian's magnificent Kitchen cautiously, trying to make sure I didn't break anything. The kitchen was giant looking, extraordinarily big, everything in it was expensive, I was surprised I could even operate the electric cooking machine. Every gadgets in the kitchen wasn't just an ordinary one, it was exactly like those types they use in Five star hotels.

“This is where I would cry dramatically after my broody boss breaks my heart.” Henry raises a brow. “That happen often?” “Shut up and show us the kitchen.” We trail behind him, barely suppressing giggles. The kitchen is… potential. A deep farmhouse sink, an island that’s definitely seen better days, and an old wooden table that nearly makes me moan. The kind of surface you could knead bread dough or get very properly ruined on. Sloane leans in. “Tell me you’re picturing what I’m picturing.” I hum. “Ass up, face down?”

Damion It felt weird and good to be back in the kitchen of the farmhouse. The kitchen was outdated and nothing like the upscale kitchen I had in my apartment back in New York, but it didn’t matter. It was functional and had a homey touch, something that was missing in the icy gray and black modern kitchen. I flipped the pancake in the pan, quietly humming a song I didn’t know the name of.