Gogo X Honey Lemon Novels & Stories

I looked at the table, sighing softly. Evangeline: Could I have a tiny piece of each to taste before making my choice? He took his plate and placed a portion of each food on it. Then, using his utensils, he carefully cut a piece of each and placed it on my plate. Everything seemed strange; I had never seen this kind of food before. I guessed what the pizza was from Xander's earlier description. He then opened a small container, telling me it was honey and that some people liked it with onion rings. I tasted the pizza; it wasn't as chewy as the sticks. The combination of tastes and flavors was incredible. Next, I tried the onion ring Xander had put on the plate, first without the honey and th

I glance at the assortment of food—something golden and flaky, a thick swirl of white yogurt drizzled with honey, dark purple olives, and what looks like grilled cheese. I blink. "Okay, I have no idea what any of this is." The man chuckles, setting his book aside. "That," he says, pointing to the pastries, "is bougatsa. Flaky, filled with either custard or cheese. The yogurt is served with thyme honey—Greek honey is some of the best in the world, by the way. Those are kalamata olives, and this"—he gestures to the cheese—"is halloumi. Salty, a little chewy, best when grilled."

There was bread and a jar of something that smelled of rosemary and oil, and a portion of the slow-cooked lamb from the stall on the eastern end of the market that Selene had mentioned once, four weeks ago, without intending it as a request. He had remembered. He had not mentioned that he remembered. Petra arrived at six carrying a small paper bag that she placed on the table beside Dax's parcels with an expression of deliberate ceremony. Inside was a single jar of obscenely expensive honey from a shop on the Silvermere high street — the kind that costs more than any honey has a defensible right to cost and that Petra had read about in some article and declared a necessity before anyone agre

“Mangosteen?” “Yes,” she said quickly, looking hopeful. “But not just any mangosteen. It has to be fresh, and I want it blended with coconut milk and honey. Like the one we had in Thailand during our honeymoon.” I stared at her, dumbfounded. “Bridgette, that was years ago. And mangosteens aren’t exactly easy to find here in Monaco.” Her face fell, and immediately I felt guilty. She didn’t ask for much, and this was clearly important to her.

He unscrewed the lid with a wicked grin, dipping two fingers into the sticky sweetness. “Let’s make this even sweeter,” he said, his voice a dark promise. He drizzled it over me…starting at my breasts, letting it trail down my stomach in slow, warm rivulets, then lower, coating my thighs and finally pooling right over my center. The honey was cool at first, then warmed against my heated skin. It dripped everywhere, making me glisten under the dim lights. Gavin set the jar aside and lowered his head. His tongue flicked out, lapping at the honey on my breast…long, flat strokes that cleaned every drop while teasing my nipple into a hard peak. I whimpered, my hands fisting the tablecloth.

I pretended not to notice and asked, "Can I borrow your phone?" He nodded and handed it to me. I quickly tried calling Daniel again. As soon as he picked up, I hurriedly said, "Daniel, your whole family got stung by wasps. It's really serious! Transfer the money for the surgery to me now!" I thought he would ask how much, but after two seconds of silence, he cursed at me, "Linda, if you want money, you don't have to curse my family!" I was stunned, then quickly explained, "I'm not lying. They really were stung and are now in the ICU. We have to raise money immediately for the surgery."

Honey, black pepper, dark chocolate. Something sweet with a sting in it. It seemed appropriate.

***Hyacinth*** We finally returned to the Philippines, this time to delve into the intricacies of Golden Goose Corp (GGC), my father’s company. The moment we stepped off the plane, the tropical heat hit me like a wall. The sun was relentless, its rays prickling against my skin. I’ve always preferred colder climates, but duty called. As we walked toward the waiting car, I sneezed loudly, the sudden change in temperature catching me off guard. Patricia handed me a tissue with a knowing smile.

I’m not sure I could count Rosaria as a normal teenager though. Grabbing a glass of Medovukha, I sat on the new couch looking out through the windows. The two on the left had been shattered but you wouldn’t even know. Outside was lit up with the city lights and offices still working. Sipping the sugary and yeasty drink, I sighed. Felicity had made this batch in her push to reach that 12% and with this one she used not just manuka honey but also white jewel strawberries. In her eyes it was a failure at only 10% despite using and importing some of the most expensive ingredients. When she tossed me two bottles, I told her it would be lost on me but she insisted. It was one of her best batches,

The little girl had just finished bathing, and Helen was helping the little girl prepped up. Hugo was right beside Jai, clearly ignoring Darrion completely as they talk, while Olsen was lying on the ground in the middle of the hallway. Kiki was inside, living up his title as Alyssa’s faithful escort. Jai nodded. “Not to the madam nor Helen, but the chef. He said the tree in the garden was Sour Pearlet, not Honey Pearlet.” Darrion frowned. “That’s not good.” Jai nodded with a slightly concerned look. “I need to ask Doctor Prime if he would still need my help on the Honey Pearlet. Cause, hey, I don’t know anything in here. I don’t have any lead so I don’t know where to go.”