Sera caught one of the camera guys grinning, zooming in on Blake’s livid face as he insulted his audience.
He’s showing his true colors. And the crowd didn’t appreciate it. Mutters and meaningful looks passed among them.
“Gah!” he spat, flinging a plate of the ganache cake at the far wall. “I cannot wait to get back to civilization and away from the company of yokels who think cowboy hats and concho belts constitute high fashion!” He made air quotes with his fingers. “You ‘free-spirited’ fucks have been baking in the sun so long, you wouldn’t have the wits to appreciate haute cuisine if it walked up and slapped you on your slack-jawed faces! And for the record, no, you pokey-palated Paleoliths, green chile is not a major food group!” Spittle flecked his lips as he glared out over the crowd.
For a moment, the crowd simply stared back.
Then they started to laugh.
In two decades of being feted, flattered, and socially fellated, this was something wholly new. Blake’s fame, his restaurant empire, his celebrity snob friends—none of them meant a thing to the people here today.
Sera saw a flash of uncertainty—almost panic—enter Blake’s eyes as he realized it.
They don’t care what he thinks.
And for the first time, neither did Serafina Wilde.
She laughed right along with them.
Enraged, Blake ripped open his custom-embroidered chef’s jacket and flung it to the floor, beyond caring about the cameras catching every instant of his tantrum. His face was apoplectic as he turned to his former protégée. “You’ll rue this day, Serafina,” he hissed.
Vanessa, standing near enough to hear, rolled her eyes at Sera. “Who says that?” She popped an O-Bomb between her perfectly painted lips and shivered with ecstasy.
Sera just smiled. Her ruing days were over.
With a roar of rage, Blake Austin turned on one heel, shot Sera a final venomous glance, and stormed out the rear door.
Out into the alley like the rat he was.
The Back Room Babes broke through the crowd and gathered round, showering Sera in a storm of hugs and kisses.
“You did it!”
“Way to kick ass, woman!”
“You guys didn’t have anything to do with…,” Sera began, narrowing her eyes at her aunt and the rest of the ladies.
They shook their heads innocently. “That was all you, girl!” Aruni enthused. “I mean, yeah, Pauline did have a plan for us to strike back if things started to look dicey. She had us spell out A-U-S-T-I-N S-U-C-K-S-! on our fannies in Sharpie marker and be ready to drop trou if Chef Austin got uppity. Lucky thing there are twelve of us. I got the exclamation point. Wanna see?” She grabbed the waistband of her yoga pants and made as if to pull them down.
Janice slapped her friend’s hand away. “Stop that, ’Runi! Sheesh, you’ll take any ol’ opportunity to show off that toned little tush. Me, I’m just glad we didn’t need to whip out no dirty tricks.” Janice grinned. “I told ’em there were too many Texans here today who might get the wrong idea and think we were dissin’ their capital city!”
“I was an S,” volunteered Syna, patting her rear. “God knows how long it’ll take to wash off. I told my hubby I was test-driving a tattoo so as not to spoil the surprise. What’s worse is I think he likes the idea.” Syna grabbed one of Sera’s bonbons off the counter and shoveled it into her mouth. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she groaned. “Dang, woman! Who knew you were gonna dish up something called an O-Bomb?” She giggled. “We couldn’t have planned it better if we tried! My son’s prob’ly gonna need years of therapy, but it was so worth it. When that German lady let’r rip… you should have seen Chef Austin’s face.” She doubled over, wheezing with laughter.
“So I…” Sera looked around at the sea of smiling faces filling the restaurant. Smiling because of her. “I really won, fair and square?”
“Kiddo, that was one totally, one-hundred-percent organic mass orgasm. And I oughta know!” Pauline pronounced. “Glad to see some of my teachings finally took hold, Baby-Bliss. You may be a late bloomer, but when you bloom…” Pauline choked up a bit, her brown eyes shining wet with emotion as her tone grew serious. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been so proud in my whole life,” she declared, planting a big wet one on Sera’s cheek. Hortencia followed suit with a smooch of her own, and the rest of the BRBs fairly choked her with hugs and well wishes. But there was one honorary member still waiting to congratulate her.
Sera’s eyes met Asher’s over the heads of her friends. Her heart swelled at what she saw there.
Pure bliss.
The Back Room Babes parted, making way for the tall Israeli. He reached Sera in a few swift steps, swept her up, and spun her around until she squealed with delight. Setting her down as though she were the most precious thing on earth, Asher cupped Sera’s cheeks in his callused hands. He looked down at her with a world of pride and admiration in his gaze. “You’ve done it, Bliss,” he said softly.
She gave him a kiss that contained all of the gratitude and joy she felt in this moment. “Wait ’til I get you home tonight, lover,” she whispered in his ear. “I think we can top this performance, easy.”
In her mind’s eye, the armadillo winked.
Author’s Note
As a transplant to the City Different, I still have so much to learn. How could I adequately characterize a town with so many centuries of history, culture, and unique Southwestern flair? I must apologize in advance for any inaccuracies or omissions, and call out a few deliberate fudges here.
Those who know Santa Fe will probably recognize the Sunshine Diner as an obvious stand-in for the wonderful Zia Diner—a staple of the Railyard District for many years. As my tummy can testify, the pie is every bit as good as ever at the Zia! I don’t know who their pie maven is, but long may he or she reign.
The Horseman’s Haven is indeed famous for their nuclear-hot green chile. Taste Level 2 at your own risk, and don’t say you weren’t warned.
For the past several years, Zozobra has been held the night before Fiesta. I’m still hoping they’ll change it back to Friday night.
Ghost Ranch, up in Abiquiu, is a stunning and inspiring place. I hope they won’t mind that I took the liberty of turning their hogans into sweat lodges for Sera’s “quest.”
Placita de Suerte y Sueños is based on a couple of the delightful courtyard oases along Palace Avenue, but it is, itself, a figment of my imagination. Still, if you go looking for it, you’re sure to encounter some serendipitous finds.
Ten Thousand Waves is my favorite place on the planet. I hope I got it right.
Acknowledgments
Ms. Holly Root, how do I thank you? Your kindness and steadfastness in sticking with me are humbling, to say the least. Your intelligence, assurance, and unerring instincts are frankly intimidating. I’m so grateful you’re my agent.
Enormous gratitude goes to Susan Barnes and to all the talented team at Redhook for seeing what I saw in this novel, and more. I’m delighted to be included in your stable of authors and hope to do you proud.
A big shout out to Mr. Featherbottom—otherwise known as Eric Buscher—who asked me (fortunately when I was still just thirty pages in), “Why are you killing off your best character?” Pauline thanks you, too.
To the members of the Mediabistro 12-Week Novel Writing Workshop, thank you for guiding me through the first half of this novel with wise and gracious critiques. And thanks in equal measure to our little Santa Fe writer’s group for invaluable advice through the second.
To the Thursday Night Eldorado Women’s Meeting… if there really were Back Room Babes, you’d be charter members.
Caz, thank you for long walks, road trips, and read-throughs. You’re one of a kind.
Syna, thanks for the loan of your name and your invaluable knowledge of the restaurant business.
And Commander Quinn… for endless brainstorming sessions over Harry’s Roadhouse nachos, close reads and incisive suggestions, he
lp with the chores and late-night LOTR recitals, and most especially for agreeing to come out West on this perhaps ridiculous whim. I love you “all the much.”
About the Author
Jenn Adams
A scion of Manhattan's Upper East Side, Hilary Fields began writing her first novel at age sixteen. She continued to write even as she studied classics and philosophy at St. John’s College, a tiny liberal arts college with the good fortune to be located upon a mountainside in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Though she returned to New York City for several years, penning three historical romances under another name and working as a copywriter and web editor, her heart remained in the Land of Enchantment. Finally, life took a ride on art’s coattails, and she followed the heroine of her novel out to the sunny Southwest. She currently resides in Santa Fe with her husband and three slightly sulky kitties. When not writing, she’s usually elbow deep in bread dough, balls of yarn, or huffing and puffing up one of the local hiking trails.
Reading Group Guide
Sera claims a lot of her shyness is due to her aunt’s life choices. Do you think that is true?
Both Asher and Sera are running from unhappy pasts. What makes them face their problems now?
What purpose do the Back Room Babes serve? Who do you think they’ve had the most influence on?
Who helps Serafina the most? Why?
How are Asher and Blake similar? Different?
Which relationship is most important to Sera’s recovery and why?
What influences did Sera’s drinking have on the story? Do you think she was a reliable narrator for her flashbacks?
The story as a whole represents a tale of recovery even though Sera has already gone through her recovery from alcoholism. Based on what you know, which do you think was harder for her?
How do you think the story would have changed if Sera had arrived at Sante Fe right after the kitchen incident instead of waiting a year?
Could Sera have had such a journey of self-discovery without Blake? How do you think the story would have changed without his role?
What is the most pivotal point of the novel to you?
Author Q & A
When did you first start writing?
It’s hard to remember a time when I was not writing. In fact, while digging in a drawer at my family’s old summer cabin a few years back, I discovered my very first manuscript. It was one-and-a-half pages long, written in pencil on unlined paper, and began, in crooked lettering, “My name is Hilary. I am ten years old and this is my life story…” so I guess I’ve been itching to tell my story since before I even learned cursive. I began writing poetry during a family vacation to Egypt when I was eleven and my awe at the sights we were seeing overwhelmed my ability to express myself aloud. I began my first novel, a historical romance, at the age of sixteen, and finished it right after college.
How did the world of Bliss form?
My writing has always been about wish-fulfillment. I’ve never been one of those authors who enjoys putting her characters through the wringer—prefer to inhabit their triumphs and give them the special talents and happy endings that are sometimes unrealistic in real life. (One of my early attempts was about a rock star who looked a lot like Angelina Jolie, because who wouldn’t want to be a hot rock star?) When I decided to write Bliss, I knew it had to be something I could happily immerse myself in for months or even years. So, one day, while my husband and I were laying around brainstorming, we said to each other, “Well, what do we like best?” One of us (I won’t say who) said “Cupcakes!” and the other said “Sex!” and I knew we had the beginnings of a winning concept. From there I asked myself, “Where would I want to be, if I could be anywhere?” and the answer was Santa Fe, so I sent Serafina there in my stead. And then… well, I followed her out there.
Where did the idea for Serafina come from?
Well, I love to cook, and especially to bake, though my pastry efforts can generously be deemed “wonky-looking.” I knew the “research” for a baker character would be fun, but she had to be someone I could relate to, not just envy for her skill-set. I wanted to write about a woman who’s been through a bad patch and is just starting to discover her confidence and resilience, and then to put her in a situation where she could explore her hang-ups and challenge herself to overcome them. Serafina, with her history of alcohol abuse and being overshadowed by the more confident people in her life, fit the bill for me. I wanted her to find her way—and in a way, she has actually inspired me to find mine. Since I started her story, I’ve challenged myself to live my own dreams too, and the results have been really rewarding.
Why base the story in Santa Fe?
I’ve had a deep and undeniable connection with Santa Fe since I first came out here as an undergraduate at St. John’s College, a teeny liberal arts school up in the mountains that overlook the city. Having grown up in Manhattan, I’d never really seen mountains, or heard silence, or experienced the endless horizon stretching out before my eyes until I arrived. It was life-changing for me, so I figured it could be for Sera too. Plus, Santa Fe is quirky as hell, full of unique, artistic characters and architecture, history, and surprisingly tasty food. It’s a great place to feel free of expectations (and fashion) and just do what you want to do, without judgments. When I mention the name of my adopted city, people often exclaim, “Oh, I’ve always wanted to visit Santa Fe!” so I figured I’d give folks a chance to peek inside it, at least as I see the City Different.
How much research did you have to do to make the baking/atmosphere believable?
Well, I do hope it feels believable. I have spent a lot of time in kitchens (my waistline would say too much), though not so much in commercial ones. I resourced a friend who’s a pastry chef and has worked in restaurants for many years for some of my “professional kitchen” questions, then watched a lot of goofy cooking contest shows, researched recipes, equipment and timing. I read cookbooks and baking memoirs, and the rest… well, it’s pure imagination. Hopefully, real chefs won’t roll their eyes at me!
What is one piece of information that you know about the story or characters that you loved, but couldn’t fit into the book?
Oh, gosh. I’m not sure about information, per se, but there were a couple of scenes that didn’t make the cut that I regret having to jettison. Parts of the “orgasm quest” particularly were left behind for reasons of pacing, and I’d love to have had a chance to make more of Pauline and Hortencia’s unique relationship, and even more with Silver the puppy. Maybe I’ll end up posting some bits on my website.
Aunt Pauline has an extremely unique profession—why the sex shop and feminist background?
Pauline is really a result of an impish muse—and a little good advice from a friend. She kind of sprang, fully formed, into my head all at once. I pictured her as an example of everything Serafina wasn’t, but longed to be—sexually confident, ballsy, and fearless, never taking crap from anyone. I’ve known a number of women who exemplify the feminist movement to me, from my own mother to a couple of my former bosses, and I really like that no-apologies approach to life. But Pauline almost didn’t make the cut! Originally, it was Pauline who was supposed to have died at the beginning of the novel, inciting Serafina to fly to Santa Fe to tie up her affairs and subsequently grow into her legacy. Then a friend of mine said, “Why are you killing off your best character?” and I realized, yeah, that would be a hell of a missed opportunity. As I went along, Pauline got more and more outrageous, and I love her for it.
Speaking of which, who is your favorite character from the novel?
It’s gotta be Pauline. While Sera is a lot of things I’d like to be—warm, loving, and courageous—and of course she gets the guy, it’s Pauline I picture most clearly, and who, frankly, kicks the most ass.
Do you have any advice for aspiring authors?
Persistence pays. I got super lucky with my first novel, and it was published less than a year after I graduated from college. It was almost too easy—too much,
too soon, and I didn’t know what I had until it was gone. After two more, I couldn’t get another novel published for twelve years, though not for lack of trying. There were many times I wanted to give up, and a lot of times when I walked away from the computer for six months or more, but I kept coming back because I realized that if I couldn’t do this, I would never find another vocation that would mean half as much. So I just kept writing proposals, stories and novels until I hit the right combination of right book, right timing—and right agent! Oh, and I have to say, if at all possible, join a writing group. Writing in a vacuum just (forgive the pun) sucks.
Lastly, we have to ask: If you could have any superpower, what would it be?
The power to heat my coffee up, just that little bit, anytime, anywhere. I loathe cold coffee!
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