Preview of Anisa Claire West’s
A PASTRY THIEF IN PARIS
Prologue
Paris, France
Sometime after Midnight…
Forget all the romantic images of Paris where starry-eyed tourists climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower and kissing lovers sail along the River Seine. Make no mistake. Paris after dark is a ruthless jungle, and it’s no place for a woman to be roaming the streets alone. Fatefully, on one chilly night when the moon was full and the air was thin, I learned this truth the harsh way.
Strolling outside my apartment by Collette’s Pastry Shop, where I worked part-time during daylight hours, I gasped to see a sleek figure dressed from head to toe in black. Donning a ski mask and carrying a burlap sack in one hand, the figure slipped away into the Parisian night before I could make sense of what had just happened. Creeping over to the shop, I flinched to see the door wide open. The figure in black had been inside the shop!
Softly, I made my way inside, holding my breath as though another criminal were about to jump out and attack me. But the door hadn’t been broken or disturbed at all. Oddly, the cash register was also in tact and not a single Euro was missing. The shop hadn’t been looted and nothing appeared out of place. Slithering into the kitchen, I used the moonlight drifting in to illuminate my view of the room. All the appliances were in their proper spot and, again, nothing had been ransacked.
Opening up the refrigerator door, I blinked, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me. Several trays of pre-made pastries were tidily lined up for the next day’s sales. Thick orange mousse filled up cannoli shells and glazed strawberry tarts were in their designated place. But one shelf of the refrigerator was conspicuously empty.
“The cream puffs!” I exclaimed, realizing that an entire tray of the French sweets was missing.
Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, I groped around in my purse for my phone and called the police to report a most unusual robbery...
Amazon.com: A Pastry Thief in Paris eBook: Anisa Claire West: Kindle Store
Special Preview of Anisa Claire West’s
DEEP DISH LIES
Prologue
Buttercup Valley, Washington
A Rainy Afternoon in April…
I stared at the infuriating man with flames in my eyes and venom on the tip of my tongue. The front bumper of my car was deeply bashed in, and one of my headlights was shattered. Slamming the door, I flounced towards the insolent stranger as his piercing blue eyes challenged me unblinkingly.
“You’re a helluva bad driver, woman!” He bellowed, stomping towards me like a mating gorilla.
“Excuse me?” I squeaked indignantly as the chilled raindrops soaked through my spring jacket. “ You stopped short! This accident was your fault!”
“Listen, woman, you hit my car. Meaning, you are at fault,” he said gruffly, running a frustrated hand through his rain-drenched dark hair.
If I hadn’t just been involved in a potentially fatal accident with the man, I might have found him very attractive. Those blue eyes lit up the cloudy day like a raging forest fire. But I was in no mood for flirting with a chauvinistic ass who kept referring to me as “woman.”
“Listen, let’s just exchange our insurance info,” I suggested with a shiver. “I don’t want to get pneumonia standing out here in the rain arguing with you!”
I don’t know if it was from the biting cold or my biting tone, but the man recoiled visibly when I suggested exchanging our information. A storm cloud overhead transformed from pale gray to ominous charcoal as he steadily backed away from me.
“Never mind,” he sneered, his sensuous upper lip curling. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. Just be careful how you drive from now on, woman. Next time it could be a lot worse.”
Outraged, I watched as he clamored back to his black Audi and left me standing out in the
A PASTRY THIEF IN PARIS
Prologue
Paris, France
Sometime after Midnight…
Forget all the romantic images of Paris where starry-eyed tourists climb to the top of the Eiffel Tower and kissing lovers sail along the River Seine. Make no mistake. Paris after dark is a ruthless jungle, and it’s no place for a woman to be roaming the streets alone. Fatefully, on one chilly night when the moon was full and the air was thin, I learned this truth the harsh way.
Strolling outside my apartment by Collette’s Pastry Shop, where I worked part-time during daylight hours, I gasped to see a sleek figure dressed from head to toe in black. Donning a ski mask and carrying a burlap sack in one hand, the figure slipped away into the Parisian night before I could make sense of what had just happened. Creeping over to the shop, I flinched to see the door wide open. The figure in black had been inside the shop!
Softly, I made my way inside, holding my breath as though another criminal were about to jump out and attack me. But the door hadn’t been broken or disturbed at all. Oddly, the cash register was also in tact and not a single Euro was missing. The shop hadn’t been looted and nothing appeared out of place. Slithering into the kitchen, I used the moonlight drifting in to illuminate my view of the room. All the appliances were in their proper spot and, again, nothing had been ransacked.
Opening up the refrigerator door, I blinked, wondering if my eyes were deceiving me. Several trays of pre-made pastries were tidily lined up for the next day’s sales. Thick orange mousse filled up cannoli shells and glazed strawberry tarts were in their designated place. But one shelf of the refrigerator was conspicuously empty.
“The cream puffs!” I exclaimed, realizing that an entire tray of the French sweets was missing.
Feeling like Alice in Wonderland, I groped around in my purse for my phone and called the police to report a most unusual robbery...
Amazon.com: A Pastry Thief in Paris eBook: Anisa Claire West: Kindle Store
Special Preview of Anisa Claire West’s
DEEP DISH LIES
Prologue
Buttercup Valley, Washington
A Rainy Afternoon in April…
I stared at the infuriating man with flames in my eyes and venom on the tip of my tongue. The front bumper of my car was deeply bashed in, and one of my headlights was shattered. Slamming the door, I flounced towards the insolent stranger as his piercing blue eyes challenged me unblinkingly.
“You’re a helluva bad driver, woman!” He bellowed, stomping towards me like a mating gorilla.
“Excuse me?” I squeaked indignantly as the chilled raindrops soaked through my spring jacket. “ You stopped short! This accident was your fault!”
“Listen, woman, you hit my car. Meaning, you are at fault,” he said gruffly, running a frustrated hand through his rain-drenched dark hair.
If I hadn’t just been involved in a potentially fatal accident with the man, I might have found him very attractive. Those blue eyes lit up the cloudy day like a raging forest fire. But I was in no mood for flirting with a chauvinistic ass who kept referring to me as “woman.”
“Listen, let’s just exchange our insurance info,” I suggested with a shiver. “I don’t want to get pneumonia standing out here in the rain arguing with you!”
I don’t know if it was from the biting cold or my biting tone, but the man recoiled visibly when I suggested exchanging our information. A storm cloud overhead transformed from pale gray to ominous charcoal as he steadily backed away from me.
“Never mind,” he sneered, his sensuous upper lip curling. “I don’t have time for this bullshit. Just be careful how you drive from now on, woman. Next time it could be a lot worse.”
Outraged, I watched as he clamored back to his black Audi and left me standing out in the
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