Orange Caramel Novels & Stories

"Funny that a man of your standing would want to see me in a hurry," Maddox objected, walking across the room to the bar to pour two shots of an alcoholic beverage that had more value than any other in the entire casino and was a significant vibrant yellow color; D'Amalfi Limoncello Supreme. He in a glass tumbler poured him just enough to taste the delight and richness in one gulp.

That’s what Dorothy has whispered in my ear, anyway. “Strain the mix into a cocktail glass. Cut a piece of orange peel about the size of your thumb, be careful not to bend it. Hold the piece of orange peel between finger and thumb over the glass and use a match to gently warm it for about 20 seconds. Then bend the peel so it releases oil onto the lighted match, igniting a flame that will settle on the surface of the drink. Have a sip and have a guess at what you’ve made,” she says enthusiastically. “Cosmopolitan,” Dorothy answers without taking a sip.

“Finish chopping those vegetables.” She floated off to the dining area again. Fiona glowered at me. I ignored her and went to work. The juice of the prickly pear was a dark pink, almost red in color, and smelled like sunshine. Samara’s lemon pie was already delicious, but this extra addition would only make it more so. I tuned out the rest of the kitchen as I carefully whipped the juice into the fragile lemon filling, watching the pink and yellow swirl together in a beautiful rainbow. Samara tried the first bite.

In the morning, after receiving a few orders from the studio, Hazel took Amy to the nearby supermarket to buy some fruit. Recently, she had a bad appetite, so she wanted to vomit every morning. She needed to eat more fruit to supplement nutrition. When she saw the orange which was newly sold in the market, she was somehow very greedy, and her saliva was almost flowing out. She quickly took a plastic bag to choose. "Haven't you always been afraid of being sour things, sister Yi? This orange skin is cyan, it must be very sour, don't buy it," Amy replied.

“I don’t see many with Elijah Craig. A smoky bourbon, like your scent. Well, that with blood orange.” His eyebrows shoot up, “You know your bourbon. So my scent to you is bourbon and blood orange?” “I know what I like, I’m not a connoisseur. Yes, that is your scent to me. It’s a smoky bourbon with blood orange.” I say honestly. “Interesting. Would you like a glass?” He offers. “Sure.” As he pours me a glass he casually says, “Your scent is spiced cranberry and cinnamon. I think after some of our interactions together, it fits you. Warm, tasty but spicy at the same time.”

"But as I said, as long as a relative of mine is still alive, we are not oblige to do so. Thanks to Mamang Turiya." "Who is that?" "My grandfather's cousin." "So, what now?" "You understand right, that I came here not to make you propose to me or something? I came here because I am finding something, as what I said, the Vermilion. The one thing that could stop the Malignobons. And I believe if l could find it, we will not get oblige to stick to each other forever anymore. There's a story that our ancestors had told us. It's about the Vermilion. Once found, it would grant the catcher to have two wishes. I promise you once I find it, one of those wishes that I will make is to break the treaty

Soaré For the first time since she appeared I took in her outfit. I’d been so busy comparing our physical similarities, I hadn’t realized that she not only wore those ridiculous heels, but also a shimmering burnt orange cocktail dress with golden yellow accents. I gripped my fists tighter and forced myself not to glance down at my skinny jeans and t-shirt. I also lamented the fact that the dress was the sexier cocktail version—the exact same color, shimmering, opalescent material and all—of the evening gown I’d chosen to wear for the transition. I’d spent weeks picking the material, designing the dresses, and having it made just for me by a designer that I’d had to travel to meet with. All t

She then leaned over to explain the different flavors to Hayward. "The tan is nut, the yellow is fruit, the brown is coffee, and the red is mulled wine. If you have a particular distaste for any of those flavors, that's the color you should avoid..." she warned before diving her fork into a piece and popping it into her mouth. He might not have a sweet tooth, per se, but she certainly did.

He then brought the basket to Elio, looking like an old man who just got back from the market. After he placed the basket on the coffee table. Elio took a closer look and saw the grapefruit-sized object inside it. It had an ugly grayish-black wrinkled exterior, and it smelled nauseating. A scorching heat emanated from it as if it had just emerged from an oven. Elio's eyes widened. "It’s a Scarletflame Fruit! It's a precious fruit that grows inside volcanos, and it takes at least a thousand years to grow to this size. Despite its looks, it’s a truly rare find!”

replied Frost. He had this idea in mind, but he knew how important the meatballs were to Bianca. "Of course, after all, Grandpa is my biggest client ever!" Bianca mischievously smiled. Frost knew she was comforting herself, and he was touched, but his face remained calm as he picked up a small cake and placed it in front of Bianca. This small cake that three people could finish. The cake was made with Italian tapioca, and topped with Irish cream and mandarin orange zest. The orange zest looked like crystal clear caviar grains, but it tasted like honeydew.