Before The Coffee Gets Cold Series Order Novels & Stories

Then I go down to get my morning dose of coffee. As I arrived at the cafe, I meet Shelia along with Cassie. They were waiting in line to get some coffee. I tap Cassie's shoulder and greet them, "What's up girls, good morning. Don't forget to prepare yourself for the meeting after this. By the way, what coffee are y'all getting? " "Of course boss, we're all ready and prepared. Oh, I'm getting a cold brew while Cassie is getting a cafe late. How about you boss?" Shelia answered me. "hmmm... I'm feeling out for something cold and bitter so probably an iced americano." I replied.

“With the way she’s struggling with that coffee machine, I’d give her five minutes. Haha, I bet 20 dollars.” “I bet 30 dollars.” “40 dollars.” “....” I'm doomed. ___ I stood outside Alaric's office, a black coffee resting on the tray I held in my sweaty grip. My heart pounded so hard against my chest as I hesitated to knock. But I knew that if I delayed any longer, the coffee would get cold—and that would be a problem. Apparently, according to the book, Alaric always knew the exact temperature of his coffee. Pfft. As if he was a walking thermometer.

]- “Tell Maddox that I love him too.” -[“I will.”]- After wrapping up the call, a sudden awareness sweeps over me, like a cool breeze that unsettles the stillness. My gaze settles upon the half-empty cup of coffee perched beside my laptop. The liquid's warmth long faded. I frown, a sudden unease gripping me. A cup of coffee is a fragment of my routine, a prop in my decisions and responsibilities as a CEO and an Alpha. But now, it seems like a riddle, a forgotten piece of a puzzle I couldn't quite place. My fingers curl around the ceramic handle, the touch cool against my skin. The aroma of the coffee still lingers in the air like a siren's call that tugs at my senses. The liquid inside is a

But Hazel suddenly felt a loss of warmth from Calvin's palms which were strangely warm even though it was so cold and windy outside. Ten minutes later Hazel came back with a room key and a cup of coffee she had just taken from the coffee machine next to the reception desk. Even though the coffee was no longer hot, at least it was still warm, and Calvin felt his brain could relax a bit after taking a few sips of the coffee. “Any problem when you booked the room?”

A faint blush stained her cheeks at his intense stare, and she casually slid one naked leg under the barrier of the cover and rolled to her side. “Hey.” “Hey,” she repeated. An awkward silence beat around them in the typical morning after episode. Maya motioned toward the coffee. “For me?” “Oh, yeah.” He moved toward her and sat on the edge of the bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and he handed her the mug, watching as she took an appreciative sniff of the rich Columbian roast. She sighed with pleasure after a taste. “Good?” “Perfect. I hate wimpy coffee.”

The warmth of the coffee lingered within her, a reminder of the comfort and strength that awaited her as she navigated the challenges and joys of the day ahead. Hazel lifted the cup to her lips, savoring the warmth and richness of the coffee with each sip. The familiar bitterness danced on her tongue, a comforting contrast to the lingering haze of the hangover. As she closed her eyes and let the aroma envelop her, a sense of calm washed over her, grounding her in the present moment.

Alexander still made coffee in the wrong order. The wrong order. Not the wrong ratio—the ratio had been correct for years, had been calibrated and adjusted and perfected through the particular method of making coffee every morning for three years for someone who could taste the difference between a correct extraction and a nearly correct extraction. The ratio was right. The temperature was right. The beans were right. But the order: he ground the beans before the water had reached temperature.

I was barely holding it together. Mandy rolled her eyes and took a sip. I turned, ready to leave, but then, She spit the coffee out like it was poison. “Ugh, what the hell is this?!” she snapped. “Why is my coffee cold!” I paused. “It’s still pretty hot. I just picked it up—” Before I could finish, she stormed toward me, coffee still in hand. “No. It’s cold. See?” she said, and then, without hesitation, she poured the steaming cup all over me.

She needed coffee and a simple break from the routine, so she headed for the break room. There was a dark steel, white stone break room, surrounded by the faint smell of an expensive coffee maker and the lingering scent of breakfast commotion. The small fridge buzzed softly behind the morning silence. Maddison breathed in, even after figuring out what she was holding – and her plan was rather simple, grab a coffee and head to her office, and take care of the rules of physics. She pulled up a brand-new heavy ceramic cup from a drawer and placed it under the shining nozzle of the coffee machine and pressed the button firmly for a double shot.

"Mama! The snowfeather's back!" Luna looked down at her and freed one hand to ruffle the top of her head. "Mn. It's good that it's back." She handed the coffee to Silas. He took it and drank a sip. No sugar. No milk. Bitter. Hot. The hot coffee slid down his throat, burning a thin, warm crack through his chest. She did not ask what he had been smiling about. He did not say.