Total pages in book: 20
Estimated words: 17637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 17637 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 88(@200wpm)___ 71(@250wpm)___ 59(@300wpm)
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Gianna
It’s five o’clock in the morning, and the sky over Glacier Pass is cloudy, with barely a hint of the sunrise that’s supposed to be peeking out any minute now. I stand outside Rise and Grind, my cozy little caffeine kingdom, juggling keys and hoping that today the espresso machine won’t stage a coup d'état. Considering it’s a temperamental beast with ambitions of world domination, I’d say my chances are fifty-fifty.
Alice, my new employee and a ball of perky energy far too awake for the crack of dawn, bounces beside me. She's all bright smiles and enthusiasm. “Good morning, Gianna! Ready to conquer the day?” she chirps, practically making chirping noises more bearable.
I give her a mock-serious look. “Alice, at this hour, I’m only ready to conquer my need for caffeine. Speaking of which, here’s hoping Bertha doesn’t blow a gasket today.”
With a loud jingle of keys, I finally manage to unlock the door, and we’re greeted by the familiar aroma of coffee that’s been gently haunting the shop since we opened a few years ago. The inviting interior has warm woods, cozy chairs, and soft lighting. A total opposite from the outside chill of our mostly-polar-bear shifter town.
Alice skips inside, expertly dodging chairs and tables even though she’s only been here a week. “So, what’s first on the agenda?” she asks, slipping on her apron with the deftness of a seasoned barista.
“First up, the star of the show,” I declare, motioning grandly to the espresso machine that has more personality than a soap opera villain. “Our precious, and often moody, Bertha. She requires gentle persuasion and loads of praise. Think of it like a grizzly in hibernation; if you poke it the wrong way, it might bite back.”
I launch into the basics, adjusting levers, pressing buttons, and explaining water jets and steam wands. Alice watches, wide-eyed, occasionally nodding. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Bethany in the bakery next door, already rolling out dough like the overachiever she is. She catches my eye through the window, waving a flour-covered hand with the precision of someone who’s up and working before the birds think about chirping.
“Morning, Bethany!” I shout through the glass, just as Alice fumbles with the espresso lever, sending a shot of black gold into the air like a geyser timed for dramatic effect. “Watch out, Alice! She is testing to see if you can dodge espresso attacks.”
Bethany chuckles, mouthing something that looks suspiciously like “rookies,” and I grin. Her Honey Buns II is my shop’s best friend. I swear by her cinnamon buns, which are probably the reason half our town doesn’t hibernate all winter.
Alice manages to catch the next espresso perfectly, her earlier stumble replaced by a surge of triumph that’s as infectious as double shots on Monday. “Victory!” she cheers, and I can’t help but join her moment of glory.
“Wonderful, Alice. You’ve managed to dodge, weave, and caffeinate, the necessary trifecta in this business,” I say, snapping my fingers. “Now, let’s get things really rolling before folks start demanding their morning magic.”
While Esther, my older-than-dirt—her description, not mine--and longtime employee, whizzes through the early morning opening procedures, I continue Alice’s first-day orientation.
The door jangles open, and our first regular, Mr. Hemming, who’s practically here more than I am, comes tottering in like he owns the place. He grunts his usual greeting and I nod back. Alice eagerly takes his order, dancing around the counter with an enthusiasm that is genuinely charming. Hemming’s order hasn’t changed in years: a cappuccino with extra foam, “like fluffy snow on a mountain peak,” he always says.
Just as we’re settling into a smooth rhythm, an ominous sputter comes from the espresso machine. Its lights flicker like it’s adopting the role of a mechanical diva mid-performance. I give it a light whack, hoping a good jolt is all Bertha needs.
“Come on, you hunk of metal, work with me here,” I whisper under my breath, believing in being firm with the temperamental machine. Miraculously, Bertha hums back to life, rewarding my negotiation skills with espresso shots. Alice gives me a thumbs up and gets back to work filling orders.
The morning rush soon trickles in, a mix of polar bear shifters and the occasional grizzly or wolf, all looking for sugar and caffeine. Alice manages to keep up, her newness completely offset by excitement and extra helpings of charm.
As the crowd thins, Bethany pops in, balancing a tray of freshly baked goodies. “Thought you two might need a sugar boost,” she says, placing the tray on the counter.
“Bethany, you’re an angel in disguise!” Alice exclaims, eagerly eyeing Bethany’s offerings.
“Don’t let the disguise fool you,” I reply, trading jabs with my cousin’s wife. “She’s more like a sugar fairy with the potential for mischief.”
Bethany laughs. “Only the good kind of mischief, I promise.” She winks and points with a mischievous grin at the coffee machine. “I see you’re finally getting the hang of dealing with the old girl.”