"He did?" Kim stopped in front of the sink and rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Her sister was known to overreact, but their father? He didn't voice concern unless it was legitimate.

With the phone to her ear, she returned to the front counter of the couple-filled cupcake shop, her heart screaming louder and louder with each consecutive beat.

They were everywhere. By the window, at the tables, next to the display case. Couples, couples, couples. Everyone had a partner, had someone.

Almost everyone.

Instead of Goonies Day, the celebration of the 1985 release date of The Goonies movie, which was filmed in Astoria, she would have thought the calendar had been flipped back to Valentine's Day at Creative Cupcakes. And in her opinion, one Valentine's Day a year was more than enough.

She reached a hand into the pocket of her pink ap.r.o.n and clenched the golden wings she had received on her first airplane flight as a child. The pin never left her side, and like the flying squirrel tattooed on her shoulder, it reminded her of her dream to fly, if not to another land, then at least to the farthest reaches of her imagination.

Where her heart would be free.

Okay, maybe she did spend too much time at the cupcake shop. "Tell Dad not to worry," Kim said into the phone. "Tell him . . . I'm taking the afternoon off."

"Promise?" Andi persisted.

Oh, yeah. Tearing off her ap.r.o.n, she turned around and threw it over Rachel's and Mike's heads. "I'm heading out the door now."

FIVE MINUTES LATER, Kim stood outside the cupcake shop on Marine Drive, wondering which direction to head. The tattoo parlor was on her left, a boutique to her right, and the waterfront walk beneath the giant arching framework of the AstoriaMegler Bridge stretched straight in front.

Turning her back on it all, she decided to take a new path and soon discovered an open wrought iron gate along Bond Road. The side entrance, she a.s.sumed, to Astoria's new community park.. Hadn't her sister told her to "smell the roses"?

Kim walked through the gate toward a large circle of white rosebushes and began to count off each flower as she leaned in to fill her lungs with their strong, fragrant scent. "One, two, three . . ."

After smelling seventeen, she moved toward the yellows. "Eighteen, nineteen, twenty . . ."

Past the gazebo she found red roses, orange roses, and a vast variety of purples and pinks. "Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight . . ."

Her artist's eye took in the palette of color, and imagining the scene on canvas, she wished she'd brought along her paints and brushes. "Sixty-two, sixty-three, sixty-four . . ."

Andi had been right. The sweet, perfumed scent of the roses did seem to ease her tension and help block out all thoughts of romance. Even if the rose was a notorious symbol of love. And the flower that garnished the most sales over romantic holidays. With petals used for flower girl baskets at weddings.

Who needed romance anyway? Not her.

She bent to smell the next group of flowers and noticed a tall, blond man with work gloves carrying a potted rosebush past the ivy trellis. As his gaze caught hers, he appeared to pause. Then he smiled.

Kim smiled back and moved toward the next rose.

"Can I help you?" the gardener asked, walking over.

Oh, no. He had a foreign accent, Scandinavian, like some of the locals whose ancestors first inhabited the area. And she had an acute weakness for foreign accents.

"I think I need to do this myself," Kim replied. "My goal is to smell a hundred roses."

"Why a hundred?"

"That's the number of things on my to-do list. I thought stopping to smell one rose per task might balance out my life."

"Interesting concept." The attractive gardener appeared to suppress a grin. "How many more do you have to go?"

"I'm at sixty-seven."

"I didn't mean to interrupt." He set the rosebush down, took off a glove, and extended his hand. "I'm Nathaniel Sjolander."

"Kimberly Burke," she said, accepting the handshake. His hand, much larger than her own, surrounded her with warmth.

"I have to load a couple dozen roses into my truck for the Portland Rose Festival tomorrow, but by all means-keep sniffing."

Kim pulled rose number sixty-eight toward her, a yellow flower as b.u.t.tery and delicately layered as a . . . freshly baked croissant. Hunger sprang to life inside her empty stomach, and she realized she'd been so busy working, she'd forgotten to eat lunch.

She watched Nathaniel Sjolander move between the potted plants. Was he single? Would someone like him be interested in her? Maybe ask her to dinner? And why hadn't she dated anyone in the last few years? She could argue that good-looking single men were hard to come by, but the truth was, she just hadn't taken the initiative to find one.

Nathaniel made several trips back and forth between the greenhouse and the gate, his gaze sliding toward her again and again. Oh, yes! He was definitely interested. Her pulse quickened as he approached her a second time.

"I think you missed a few." Nathaniel pulled a cut bouquet of red roses from behind his back and presented them to her.

"Thank you." She hugged the flowers against her chest and lifted her gaze from the Sjolander's Garden Nursery business logo embroidered on his tan work shirt to his warm, kind . . . blue eyes.

Oh, man, why did they have to be blue? Blue was her favorite color. She could get lost in blue. Especially his blue, a blend of sparkling azure with a hint of sea green. They reminded her of the ripples in the water where the Columbia River met the Pacific Ocean just outside Astoria.

"Sjolander. Is that Finnish?" she asked.

"Swedish. Most of my family resides in Sweden, with the exception of my brother and a few cousins."

His name was incredibly familiar. Where had she come across the name Sjolander before? The Cupcake Diary!

"I'm co-owner of Creative Cupcakes," Kim informed him. "Didn't you book us for an upcoming event?"

"Must be for the wedding."

Wedding? She held her breath. "Yours?"

He flashed her a smile. "No. My brother's."

"Of course." She breathed easy once again.

"They've decided to have the ceremony in the new community park."

Kim looked around, confused. "Isn't this the new community park?"

Nathaniel's eyes sparkled. "The park is two blocks down the street and much larger than my backyard."

"Your backyard?"

Kim's mouth popped open in an embarra.s.sed "O." Heat seared her cheeks. No wonder he'd been watching her. He was probably wondering what crazy chick was wandering around his property!

And as for the flowers? She doubted he meant them to symbolize anything romantic. Why would he? She was an idiot! The guy was probably just trying to be nice. Or maybe he thought giving her flowers would encourage her to leave. Worse-she would have to face him again in a few weeks at his brother's wedding.

With an inward groan she squeezed her eyes shut, wishing she could start the day over. Or maybe the whole last decade. Then without further ado she set her jaw and looked up.

"Thanks for the roses," she mumbled. And before she could embarra.s.s herself further, she hurried out the gate and back to the cupcake shop-where she belonged.

Acknowledgments.

I'D LIKE TO thank my editor at Avon Books, Lucia Macro, for giving me the opportunity to write this book series. It's been a dream come true.

And I'd like to thank my critique partners Jennifer Conner, D.V. Berkom, Chris Karlsen, and Wanda DeGolier for their inspiration and support.

About the Author.

Darlene Panzera writes sweet, fun-loving romance and is a member of the Romance Writers of America's Greater Seattle and Peninsula chapters. Her career launched when her novella The Bet was picked by Avon Books and New York Times bestselling author Debbie Macomber to be published within Debbie's own novel, Family Affair. Darlene says, "I love writing stories that help inspire people to laugh, value relationships, and pursue their dreams."

Born and raised in New Jersey, Darlene is now a resident of the Pacific Northwest, where she lives with her husband and three children. When not writing she enjoys spending time with her family and her two horses and loves camping, hiking, photography, and lazy days at the lake.

Join her on Facebook or at www.darlenepanzera.com.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

Also by Darlene Panzera The Cupcake Diaries: Sweet On You Bet You'll Marry Me Coming Soon The Cupcake Diaries: Taste of Romance Give in to your impulses . . .

Read on for a sneak peek at five brand-new e-book original tales of romance from Avon Books.

Available now wherever e-books are sold.

STEALING HOME.

A DIAMONDS AND DUGOUTS NOVEL.

By Jennifer Seasons LUCKY LIKE US.

BOOK TWO: THE HUNTED SERIES.

By Jennifer Ryan STUCK ON YOU.

By Cheryl Harper THE RIGHT BRIDE.

BOOK THREE: THE HUNTED SERIES.

By Jennifer Ryan LACHLAN'S BRIDE HIGHLAND LAIRDS TRILOGY.

By Kathleen Harrington An Excerpt from

STEALING HOME.

A DIAMONDS AND DUGOUTS NOVEL.

by Jennifer Seasons When Lorelei Littleton steals Mark Cutter's good luck charm, all the pro ball player can think is how good she looked . . . and how bad she'll pay. Thrust into a contest of wills, they'll both discover that while revenge may be a dish best served cold, when it comes to pa.s.sion, the hotter the better!

Raising his gla.s.s, Mark smiled and said, "To the rodeo. May you ride your bronc well."

Color tinged Lorelei's cheeks as they tapped their gla.s.ses. But her eyes remained on his while he took a long pull of smooth aged whiskey.

Then she spoke, her voice low. "I'll make your head spin, cowboy. That I promise."

That surprised a laugh out of him, even as heat began to pool heavy in his groin. "I'll drink to that." And he did. He lifted the gla.s.s and drained it, suddenly anxious to get on to the next stage. A drop of liquid shimmered on her full bottom lip, and it beckoned him. Reaching an arm out, Mark pulled her close and leaned down. With his eyes on hers, he slowly licked the drop off, his tongue teasing her pouty mouth until she released a soft moan.

Arousal coursed through him at the provocative sound. Pulling her more fully against him, Mark deepened the kiss. Her lush little body fit perfectly against him, and her lips melted under the heat of his. He slid a hand up her back and fisted the dark, thick ma.s.s of her long hair. He loved the feel of the cool, silky strands against his skin.

He wanted more.

Tugging gently, Mark encouraged her mouth to open for him. When it did, his tongue slid inside and tasted, explored the exotic flavor of her. Hunger spiked inside him, and he took the kiss deeper. Hotter. She whimpered into his mouth and dug her fingers into his hair, pulled. Her body began pushing against his, restless and searching.

Mark felt like he'd been tossed into an incinerator when he pushed a thigh between her long, shapely legs and discovered the heat there. He groaned and rubbed his thigh against her, feeling her tremble in response.

Suddenly she broke the kiss and pushed out of his arms. Her breathing was ragged, her lips red and swollen from his kiss. Confusion and desire mixed like a heady concoction in his blood, but before he could say anything, she turned and began walking toward the hallway to his bedroom.

At the entrance she stopped and beckoned to him. "Come and get me, catcher."

So she wanted to play, did she? h.e.l.l yeah. Games were his life.

Mark toed off his shoes as he yanked his sweater over his head and tossed it on the floor. He began working the b.u.t.ton of his fly and strode after her. He was a little unsteady on his feet, but he didn't care. He just wanted to catch her. When he entered his room, he found her by the bed. She'd turned on the bedside lamp, and the light illuminated every gorgeous inch of her curvaceous body.

He started toward her, but she shook her head. "I want you to sit on the bed."