Tiers of Delight

Tiers of Delight Serenity Cove Book One Iannah Roberts Copyright © 2023 by Iannah Roberts All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from this publisher, except by reviewers, who may quote brief passages in a review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, locales, or actual events is purely coincidental. Cover designed by Stellar Graphics Edited by: Happily Editing Anns https://www.iannahroberts.com/ Contents Dedication Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixeen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Fullpage Image Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three About Author Other Books By Iannah Acknowledgments To Robyn, my author wife, and the one who encouraged me to take a dive and write a romcom. For encouraging me to write this story based on the sole premise of Cornelia's nickname. I hope these two didn't disappoint. Chapter One Cornelia I ease my key into the lock and realize it’s already unlocked. Shit. He must be here already. I was hoping to avoid him just for a little bit, but apparently that’s not going to happen. Sighing, I hold up my phone and glance at the time. 2:12. Why the hell is he here at this ungodly hour of the morning? Doesn’t he sleep? What about you? The answer to that is no. I don’t. At least not a lot. Three to four hours is a good night's worth of sleep…and even that is not usually all at once. I’d say it’s a perk of this job—between the early hours and late nights—but it really isn't. My mind just doesn’t stop. It used to be more productive, like making a new recipe, but it isn’t anymore. Now it’s just the constant worry and stress about what makes up my family that keep me awake—of my parents’ need to say my life should consist of more. More time in the kitchen. More time cooking. More time…not here, but at home. Not in this little lake town—Serenity Cove—in northwest Connecticut that has become my home in the last two years. And certainly less time baking and making new to-die-for pastry recipes. Less time taking photos and posting them to social media. My 5k followers are because of that, thank you very much. Baking is my life. Taking photographs of what I create is my passion. I really don’t care about the following—I only care about sharing my love with the world. Of being a bright spot in someone’s day if they’re having a rough time. The world needs more positive moments and love. Two things my family never seem to care to give me. Shaking my head free of the negative thoughts, I push open the door and shut it softly behind me. Inhaling deeply, I allow the yeasty, sugary scents of this place to engulf me, bringing me back to when I first stepped inside this bakery two years ago. “Why do you want to work here?” It’s a question I let linger for a moment, mulling it over in my head. I can’t flat-out say that it is because it’s the opposite of what my family wants. They don’t approve of my life decisions, and I don’t think they ever will. This woman doesn’t need my life problems. Instead, I say what I felt the moment I stepped inside this place. “It’s peaceful. Feels like home.” Winnie—Winnifred Delight—is not only the owner of Tiers of Delight bakery, but also my mentor and closest friend. She gave me hope and love when I didn’t think any existed in the world. She gave me the chance and allowed me to spread my wings and fly when all my family ever did was keep them clipped. Their refusal to let me go is why I’m not there and instead found my own place to call home. “It’s not your day to open,” a gruff voice sounds from behind me as I hang up my raincoat. While it’s still early in the season, this spring has been raining more often than not. Not that I mind, but I wouldn’t complain about some sunny and warmer days mixed in. Though I wouldn’t get to fully enjoy those days. Despite being two months away, June is fast approaching us, which means one of our busiest seasons here at the bakery with weddings and summer parties. We’ve already had quite an increase for quotes for cakes and party orders, which has left us booked for the next four or five months. Glancing over my shoulder, my eyes land on the source of the voice. He’s wearing a dark-red beanie today—no surprise there. He always has one on, hiding the thick dark-brown hair I know is underneath from the short glimpses I’ve seen. Moving my gaze away from the beanie, my eyes connect with his. Like a rich whiskey, his eyes are dark and dignified and full of a depth not often seen. Even though those eyes are scowling at me, the beauty of them isn’t lost on me. Yup, they burn just as much as a sip of the amber drink. Asshole. He’s seen me as a threat since I started, and I’m not entirely sure why. Being here, Winnie has always said we’re like family instead of coworkers. The love between us all should be just as strong as our passion for what we create and serve. But that has been lost on this jerk of a man. I don’t like