Nicola Taylor I was in my element, thoroughly decorating my opera gateau with layers of rich, glossy chocolate and delicate coffee-flavoured mousse. Each stroke of the spatula was a dance, a testament to the skills I’d honed over the past few weeks. The cake was turning out beautifully, the gloss
“You know, Mr. Paterson, I’ve heard of tough love, but this is just rude. If you’ve got an issue with me, maybe you should address it like an adult instead of hiding behind ‘constructive criticism.” Mr. Paterson’s lips twitched, though whether it was a smile or a grimace, I couldn’t tell. “Maybe I
Nicola Taylor I got home before Arabella did, relishing the quietness of the house. Tossing my bag on the couch, I headed straight to the kitchen, craving something cold. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and took a long, satisfying sip. The cool liquid felt refreshing after a long da
I took a deep breath and glared at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” “Well, most men do it. Even I have done it. That’s why I know what he’s thinking. So please tell him you’re married so he will back off and you can go back to just learning,” he said, meeting my glare with equal
Nicola Taylor I carefully packed the delicious donuts I made in class today, deliberately choosing a Moana theme to delight Arabella. The donuts were vibrant, decorated with little edible characters and tropical colours, and I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when she saw them. As I was f
Without a second thought, he stood up, his authoritative voice slicing through the room, “Gentlemen, we’ll have to continue this later. Please, leave the room.” The businessmen exchanged puzzled glances but didn’t question him. They gathered their things and filed out of the office, shooting curiou
Nicola Taylor It was 7 am, and I was dropping Arabella off at school. I thought I’d offer Nicola a ride too, but she wasn’t downstairs yet. Frowning, I turned to Mrs. Kinsley. "Mrs. Kinsley, have you seen Nicola? She's not downstairs," I asked as I put Arabella lunchbox and water bottle in her bag
“And…” I continued, leaning closer, my breath warm against her ear. “I’m serious, Nicola. I’m not playing around.” “This is my room, Cole. I get to decide,” she shot back, her irritation evident but tinged with a playful undertone. “….and 3!” I hit ‘3’ with a dramatic flourish, she let out a squea