Excerpts
An Excerpt From Donut Fall in Love
Baker Lindsay McLeod meets actor Ryan Kwok when he knocks over two dozen donuts at her bakery…but this messy meet-cute isn’t love at first sight.
Donut Fall in Love is a charming romantic comedy about a baker who provides the sweetest escape for a grieving actor. Even though their relationship gets off to a messy start, there is no denying the immediate attraction between actor Ryan Kwok and bakery owner Lindsay McLeod. As Lindsay and Ryan spend more time together, it starts to feel like they’re cooking up something sweeter than cupcakes in the kitchen.
Lindsay hadn’t needed this today. She really hadn’t.
Of all the days . . .
That morning, her brother had called, and she’d freaked out. Trevor always texted, never called, and she’d immediately flashed back to that phone call, all those years ago.
As it turned out, nothing bad had happened . . . not really.
Trevor used to work as a geologist out in Alberta, but he’d gotten laid off and hadn’t been able to find any work, so he’d moved back to Toronto and was temporarily living in the den of their mother’s condo.
Probably very temporarily after what had happened today.
Her brother, after meeting an old friend about a possible job, had returned to the condo and discovered a sock on the door.
You know, the old college sign for having sex.
That was when he’d called Lindsay and totally lost his shit. “Maybe it’s, uh, not what you think,” Lindsay had said unconvincingly, and then, because she’d figured he should know, she told him that their mother had brought a date into the bakery the day before.
The possibility of their mother dating and having sex had made Trevor’s head explode. He hadn’t simply been a little squicked out—no, he seemed to think it was wrong for her to date, though he refused to say why, and Lindsay had spent many minutes trying to explain, in her patient big‑sister voice, that there was nothing wrong with this, but perhaps he and Mom should establish some, uh, rules. And though, in theory, she was glad her mom was dating, she was still uneasy about the whole thing, but she hadn’t told Trevor about this.
Finally, she’d gotten back to work.
And then they’d run out of matcha tiramisu donuts.
With its pale green glaze and white chocolate decorations, her new donut flavor was the subject of many Instagram posts. The donuts were flying off the rack—which was great. It really was.
But she’d underestimated the number of donuts they’d require, and at one o’clock she’d realized she’d need another batch or they’d run out far too early. They had a bunch of special orders to fill, so they were pretty busy, but she’d made the donuts. Then she’d brought them out to the front, intending to take a picture—for social media—of the tray of pretty donuts before putting them in the display case.
Except as she’d been walking up to the window, a man had practically flown through the front door and knocked into her, and now twenty‑three matcha tiramisu donuts were lining the floor of the bakery.
The last donut had somehow landed on his shoulder—how the hell had that happened? He picked up the donut, placed it on the nearest table, and turned back to her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?”
“It’s not like you were looking, either.”
“I don’t expect people to fly through the door out of nowhere.”
“Flying is a bit of an exaggeration. There was a door. I used it.”
“You barreled right in, as though you own the place. But you don’t. It’s mine.” Sure, the building wasn’t hers, but the business was.
The man took off his sunglasses and perched them on top of his head. Some kind of fancy designer glasses, and he was waltzing about—well, barreling about—as though the world was his playground.
There was a gasp behind her.
Lindsay looked back. The only other person in the shop right now was Raquel.
She looked forward again.
Ah. That explained Raquel’s gasp. Because the man was really quite attractive. It pained her to admit it, but it was true. He was about her age, East Asian, a bit shy of six feet—and he was gorgeous. She couldn’t explain what was so perfect about each of his facial features, but combined, the effect was stunning. He was well‑built, too.
He should be in movies.
Whatever. Just another good‑looking guy. Good‑looking guys weren’t precisely a dime a dozen, but there were many, and she’d enjoyed one—in much closer proximity than this—in the past month: she’d hooked up with a man she’d met at Noreen’s wedding. So it wasn’t like she’d had a long dry spell, though perhaps her sex life wasn’t as active as her mother’s . . .
Ugh. She wanted to slap that thought out of her head.
The man in front of her was wearing a pastel pink dress shirt, now covered in matcha glaze. He had a sort of dark, brooding thing going on, and it was at odds with his soiled attire.
That nearly made her laugh.
But then she glanced at the matcha tiramisu donuts scattered across the floor, the donuts she’d worked so hard to make. They still smelled wonderful, but they were ruined.
When she looked back at him, a peculiar transformation took place.
Not long ago, she’d watched a clip from a Superman movie, showing Christopher Reeve transforming into Superman as he took off his glasses and adjusted his posture.
Something similar happened in front her.
This guy had already removed his sunglasses, but now it was like a switch had flipped, and he went from brooding hero to relaxed, cheerful guy.
“Guess I’ll have to take off my shirt,” he said. Behind Lindsay, there was another gasp.
What the fuck?
“I’ll wait until I get outside, don’t worry.” He winked.
He seemed to be flirting with her. As though this would make her forget about the matcha tiramisu donut accident.
Yeah, right.
She also felt like he was making a joke she didn’t understand, and she didn’t like it.
“I needed those donuts,” she said. “They’re just donuts.” He shrugged.
“Just donuts? My donuts are amazing. They’ve been featured in ” Her brain promptly emptied. Her donuts had appeared in various magazines and blogs—and on TV. However, she could no longer remember the details.
She blamed his good looks.
And all the ruined donuts. It made her want to cry.
Plus her mom was dating and putting fucking socks on doorknobs and her roommate barely talked to her and she missed Noreen and . . .
All those things sounded silly, yet Lindsay had been barely keeping it together.
And she wasn’t keeping things together anymore.
She might not remember all the media that had featured Kensington Bake Shop, but she remembered what was in these donuts. “They’re matcha tiramisu yeast donuts, fried to perfection and filled with matcha mascarpone cream and topped with a matcha glaze that took me a long time to get right.”
“Hmm,” he said. “I’m not sure about matcha tiramisu. For me, the espresso is such an integral part of tiramisu. I don’t see that working.”
He spoke in such a casual way, as though it was all no big deal. But this bakery was her livelihood.
She pointed at the sad‑looking matcha tiramisu donut on the table. “Try it.”
“If you insist.” He picked up the donut, took a generous bite, and chewed thoughtfully.
“Hmm,” he said again.
“Is that so,” she muttered.
“The donut itself is quite good.”
“That’s your expert opinion?”
“It is. The filling isn’t bad, either, but it’s still not my thing. Like I said, for me, tiramisu requires espresso. It’s not the same without it.” He put his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’ll pay for the ruined donuts.”
“Forty‑two bucks a dozen, so . . . eighty‑four bucks.”
“Eighty‑four bucks for donuts?”
“Is that too expensive for a guy like you?”
“A guy like me. What do you mean?”
She gestured to his clothes—though the effect was rather ruined by the matcha glaze.
“There are lots of ingredients in those donuts,” she said, “and my time is valuable. You think anyone could make these? Could you?”
“Okay, okay. I apologize. I know it’s not simple—there’s no way I’d be able to make donuts that look so great.” It sounded like he was mocking her, though, because he gestured to the donuts on the floor. “I tried to bake cupcakes once, and it did not go well.”
A smile curved her lips—somehow, the thought of him baking cupcakes was amusing.
She promptly squashed down the smile. She would not be amused by this charming, handsome stranger.
He walked over to the cash register and pulled out a credit card. “I’ll get a chocolate cupcake, too, so I can try your food properly. Actually, change that to a chocolate espresso donut.”
“You really like your espresso, don’t you?” She headed behind the counter.
“What’s not to like? Anyway, you’re still getting paid for your donuts. It’s all good, right?”
“But I don’t have the time to make more matcha tiramisu donuts today. People will come here expecting them, and they’ll be annoyed when there are none for sale, and ”
God, she didn’t usually lose her temper, but it had been such a long day.
If Noreen were here, Noreen would have diffused the situation.
Yes, he’d knocked into her, but it wasn’t his fault she was having a bad day. Hopefully he wouldn’t leave a Yelp review about this incident. Thankfully no one had been here to witness it.
She sighed, deflated. Nothing could be done to fix the situation now. They would have disappointed customers.
Maybe he was having a bad day, too. He’d been cheerful for the past few minutes, but you never knew what was going on underneath the surface, and he’d seemed rather dark when he’d come in. He paid, and she handed him a chocolate espresso donut. It was dipped in chocolate ganache and topped with a swirl of whipped cream and a chocolate‑covered espresso bean.
He immediately took a bite. “Now, this is good.”
A bit of the filling clung to the corner of his lips, but she resisted the urge to wipe it away.
“Glad it meets your approval.” She couldn’t keep the snark from her voice, but it appeared to roll right off him.
“It’s not just a donut.” He held it in the air and smiled at her. That was nearly enough to make her forget that this day wasn’t going to plan at all—and he was part of the reason.
But in the end, she couldn’t forget.
She watched him head out into the sunshine, and as soon as the door closed behind him, Raquel said, “OMG, do you know who that was?”
“Um, a clumsy guy with a nice smile?”
“That was Ryan Kwok. The actor.” Raquel whipped out her phone and showed Lindsay a picture of some familiar abs.
Oh.
Lindsay had only seen his abs before, not his face. No wonder she hadn’t recognized him.
Raquel went to his Twitter account, and sure enough, the profile picture looked like the guy who’d just walked out of Kensington Bake Shop.
His latest tweet was another shirtless photo, but this one showed his face. It had been posted less than an hour ago.
Well, it seemed posing shirtless was this guy’s thing. “Who would have thought he’d be clumsy?” Raquel said. “I got mad at him, didn’t I?”
“You did.”
This day was just getting worse.
“He seemed kinda into you,” Raquel said. “Despite everything.”
“No, I think he was being a little flirty so I wouldn’t get even more pissed.”
It didn’t matter. Lindsay doubted she’d ever see him again.
Time to clean up the floor before somebody slipped on one of those donuts and she had an even bigger mess on her hands. Then she’d get back to the kitchen, and when she took a break later, she would most certainly not look up what Ryan Kwok did other than take off his shirt, destroy her donuts, and insult the concept of matcha tiramisu.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured to the destroyed donuts, and to a man who was no longer there.
Excerpted from Donut Fall in Love by Jackie Lau. Copyright © 2021 by Jackie Lau. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
