Romans & histoires Burnt Toast Book

A soft green-gold light, pulsing slightly, the exact colour of Audrey's magic when it ran high. The toast came out perfectly done. Audrey turned around, looked at the toast, looked at the toaster, and said, "Huh." "Did you do that," I said. "I don't think so," she said. "You don't think so." "I wasn't concentrating on the toaster." She picked up the toast and examined it. "It's good though. Perfect colour. Usually I burn it." "Audrey." "The colour is really good, Theo. Look at that even—"

He checked the cabin and was surprised to see 2 pieces of half-burnt bread. “Cool, I only deserve just two pieces of burnt toast right? It’s funny that you spent time making this” He inquired mockingly. "I didn't learn how to make toast so I could feed a glutton" She replied icily. "Either your teacher did a terrible job or wasted her efforts, this is worse than chicken poop” He insulted. "What do you mean?" "I mean you're only good at dolling yourself up, being rude, insulting your father's officials and running away" He replied coldly and dumped the toast in the trash can.

She felt them choke her, felt them drain her and she struggled to breathe properly. She relished the feeling that came with waking up on her bed, in her comfortable little apartment, the fresh aroma of the rich coffee and fresh doughnuts which Omar never failed to deliver to her doorstep every morning, she missed that feeling of temporary laziness and being treated like a treasure. Now thinking about it she wondered when last she had tasted coffee. When last did she see Omar?

The next day at Sofia’s felt slower than the others. I woke up to the sound of her cursing at the coffee maker again. She’d managed to burn the toast again and was muttering something about how “this damn thing hates me personally.” I walked into the kitchen in one of her oversized T-shirts, hair a mess, eyes still puffy from crying myself to sleep. “Morning, sunshine,” she said, sliding a slightly burnt piece of toast toward me. “Breakfast is lightly carcinogenic but filled with extra love.”

She's so deep into the mental reconstruction of his sanctuary that she completely misses the subtle change in the air. Suddenly, a sharp, acrid scent cuts through the daydreaming. "Oh, no!" The toast is burnt to a crisp. Mia stares at the blackened bread, then at the sleek, perfect kitchen around her. She bursts out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet apartment.

The poor dragon still thinks to this day that it was due to the excess of baking soda in the batter mix that triggered a reaction and blasted the damn machine. * Note To The Readers : Finally, the oven burning mystery has been solved and the incident is explained in ‘Chapter 5: The Truth’ in the book, "My Dragon Mate.” If you want to know more, you can read it for curiosity's sake, but not reading it will not disturb the flow of this story, so enjoy ! *

Jayce whispered, “And we burned.” BOOK ONE COMES TO AN END

When Noah had seen the toaster and butter, his eyes had lit up with idea of butter melting on hot toast. On Cradle, butter was much more expensive than margarine, so it was a rare treat to be able to eat it at the orphanage. Which was too bad because butter on warm toast was simply heavenly! Not so much for margarine… And thus, when his toast was done toasting, in his haste, Noah singed his fingers trying to grab it before it cooled. He yelped cutely, then put his two now pink fingers inside his lovely mouth.

Every kid grows up tasting ginger ale so sharp it stings your nose. The toast pops up. Burnt. The edges are black and the center is barely tan and the whole thing reeks like a campfire. I stare at the smoking slices. "I burned the toast." "You did." "I was talking to you instead of watching the toaster." "I noticed." I slide the burnt slices onto a plate. "I'll start over." "No." I turn. Julian is standing now, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. His eyes are fixed on the burnt toast.

We compromised—barely. I burned the toast by mistake. "Oh, come on," I groaned, waving at the smoke. He laughed behind me and came close. Too close. His arms circled my waist, and he kissed my nose, smudged with flour. "Still tastes like heaven, I bet." "You haven't even tried it." "I don't need to. As long as I can get the main course." "What else? I burnt the toast, remember?" "You're the main course tonight."