Carl The Cupcake Novels & Stories

" Carl persuaded Nicole, prompting her to finally sit down. After a short while, Carl walked over with two cups of coffee. "Here, see if my coffee has become worse." Nicole looked at the coffee and found that Carl had even decorated it with some latte art. Seeing this, she smiled and took a sip of the coffee. Meanwhile, Carl watched her expression closely before he asked, "How is it?" Suddenly, Nicole feigned a look as though she had just tasted something awful. "Why is this so bad? Your skills have deteriorated, Carl."

Calder has done nothing but remind me why I hate him but at the same time his voice makes me shutter with heat when ever he walks around like a overprotective dog barking at any man who comes close enough to me. Just last week Jimmy on of the men who stands guard when I'm outside gave me a chocolate chip cookie and told me him mom makes them and send them to him. All we were doing is talking and out came Calder like his dick was on fire and sent poor Jimmy to the cells for a month to look after who ever he has down there. Right now I'm sitting in the library flipping through the last few pages of some random book when in walks the king of all assholes himself. "There's a dress and shoes in y

For now, I stayed her friend--- and I prayed to every god that I’d keep being strong enough to wait. She blew out the candle, doing a little happy-dance when she noticed that it was her favorite caramel filled vanilla crème cupcake. I’d gotten it from the baker early this morning, knowing it was her favorite, and made sure it was ready for her when she got out of the shower…

They began to crumble beneath him. My mate is so strong. "A cupcake," I quipped until I leaned in closer to tell him a secret. "A danger cupcake," I giggled. Danger cupcakes were special. Sometimes they had cinnamon or topped with peppermint, giving them a little kick in the patootie in your mouth.

It was so bitter. “I'm so sorry; I forgot to add sugar and milk the way you like it.” “Do you still avoid sugar?” He shrugs, taking the cup from me, and adds some milk and sugar before handing it over to me. “I'm not a lover of sweet teeth.” He focuses back on his cooking. Carlson can be weird when it comes to the things he enjoys. My gaze shifted to the cookbook on the table.My recipe for cookies was on display.I act like I don't know what he is making.

OLIVIA. Carl did not place candles because he was not of very common tastes, however, a thin tube-type vase of thick glass held a beautiful calla flower inside, with white and delicate petals. I loved everything I was seeing I loved the taste of Carl who, despite being a lonely man, partially, likes to live well, owning goods, as I was understanding, although he did not frequent that one and the other, since he practically spent his time working, unless it was weekends, where according to the month he used them to do nothing.

Carl said, holding out the massive pink bear to me. My heart melted. Carl didn’t want to win the bear for himself. He wanted to win it for me. I took it from him and knelt down to give him a huge hug. The scent of his shampoo filled my nose, fresh and sweet. Giulia could try all she wanted to ruin my company, but I had something she’d never have. Carl. We decided to get some cotton candy after that. Walking over to the stand, Carl between us, his hands in each of ours, I felt light as a feather.

Happiness rushed through me and all over me, while I thought about how richer I had become because a good man had refused to take back money that was his. Before the usual time, cupcakes were ready. There were no special orders so there was no need to bother about making event cakes. “I brought some food for you, Seraphina.” A part of me imagined it wasn't real words said by Carlos. But when I looked at him, it was glaring at me. “Wh—why? You didn't have to, Carlos. You didn't have to.”

Now I stood here, half in shadow, half in shame, watching what should have been my family—our family—circling a cake I didn’t bake, gifts I didn’t wrap, candles I hadn’t lit. Carl sat off to the side, fiddling with a carved wooden dragon. He held it delicately, tracing its scales with small, serious fingers. My gift. He didn’t know. He looked so much like I had at that age, too old in the eyes and too quiet for the world around him. When he finally looked up, our gazes collided across the distance. For a heartbeat, the noise faded. The laughter dimmed. All I saw was him. All I felt was the unmistakable tug of blood calling to blood.

I didn't know what Andrew was up to this time, but he approached Carl with a pastry box in hand. "Carl, I bought you some cake. Would you like to try some?"