Here’s a snippet from an upcoming Bake Believe Short Story: Wishes and Whoopie Pies:
I stand outside my house, skipping from on foot to the other, and whisper the Happy Birthday song to myself. Ever since my mom heard that you should sing that song three times while you brush your teeth, it has not been my favorite, but today I LOVE it more than any other song in the whole wide universe! I sang it while I showered, warbled while I dressed, crooned while I ate cereal and now I hum while I wait for Robyn and Tia Marissa to pick me up.
After a billion and a half years, their car comes around the corner. When it stops all the way, I fling open the door. “Good morning!”
“Happy birthday, Cat!” They both shout, and then start singing in Spanish, Feliz Cumpleanos.
I close my eyes, conducting the song with my index fingers. When it comes to a close, I put my hands over my heart and sigh, “That was epically beautiful, thank you.”
Robyn reaches through the window to grab my wrist, “Whatcha waiting for Gata? Let’s go.”
I slide in to the car, giggling, “I am SO excited for this! I can’t wait!”
Tia peeks over her shoulder, “You’re excited?”
“Well, yeah!” I wiggle all over, making it hard to buckle my seatbelt, “Who wouldn’t want to spend the best day ever with their favoritest aunt and cousin?”
Finally I get the buckle to click and fold my hands in my lap so they won’t wave all over the air like tree branches. I am not responsible for what my limbs do when I am this hyped up.
Robyn grins at me in the rear view mirror, her sunglasses pushed up like a headband, “You’re so right! This is going to be the Best. Day. Ever!”
I give her a well-deserved whoop and then start wiggling again. My feet won’t sit still and that makes the rest of me have to move. It’s like a spontaneous dance party back here!
I almost knock over a huge covered container, but grab it just in time.
“What’s this?” I start to open the lid in one corner.
“No!” Robyn makes her seatbelt screech, leaning over to slap my hands away, “Not for you!”
Whatever, it’s not for me.
Why else would she be keeping it a surprise on my birthday? I’m no Einstein, but even I can figure out what’s going on here.
“Turn around mija, fix your seatbelt, we’re going to be late.”
Robyn does the watching you thing, where she points two fingers at her eyes and then at me, before she turns around. After she fixes her seatbelt like her mom said, she makes a big showy show out of adjusting the mirror so she can see me. Like I’m going to open my surprise right after she told me not to.
It’s not like I’ve ever done that more than thirty times.
I have SOME self control.
Tia Marissa pulls into the street and we are on our way.
“We are so glad to have your help today, Sobrina. It is such a special thing we are doing.”
My feet stop hopping.
Wait a second, helping doesn’t sound like celebrating. Helping sounds like volunteering. Birthdays are NOT the day for taking care of others, they are for focusing on ME!
“What are we doing?” I ask slowly.
Marissa purses her lips and makes a face at Robyn, who shrinks into the tiny space between her seat and the door.
“Where are we going?” I try again, since no one is talking.
Robyn’s voice is squeaky enough to damage a dog’s hearing, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Oh Robyn,” Marissa breathes out, then goes into rapid fire Spanish. I don’t even try to keep up, it’s too muchness.
Robyn throws her hands up like she can block each phrase from hitting her, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I thought she wouldn’t come if she knew what we were really doing!”
“Robyn Carolyn Bethany Penelope Martinez!”
“I know!” Robyn ducks, but it’s useless. Marissa’s words are like heat seeking missiles, they follow you wherever you go.
“I am so disappointed in you, it’s her cumpleanos, what were you thinking?”
Now is a good time for them to stop talking about me like I’m not in the backseat, “AHEM! What is going on here exactly?”
Marissa shoots a death glare at Robyn that scorches my face as it whizzes by, Robyn sighs and turns around to look at me, “We aren’t going to the mall, or to get our nails done or for free makeovers at Dillards.”
“Okay, that was a nice list of what we AREN’T doing.” I roll my eyes, “Let’s try the thing where you tell me what we ARE doing.”
“We… are going...to… a place…”
“Duh, what place?”
Robyn straightens, she gives her mom a winning grin. “A place with males. Lots and lots of males.”
For a second my heart leaps, somewhere with boys is good. At least this time I look cute and not like I rolled out of bed, which is what happened that time Robyn tricked me into getting up at the crack of dawn to paint graffiti with the high school football team.
I’ve mostly forgiven her for that one.
Well, sort of.
by Cori Cooper
November 5, 2020
Genre: Teen/YA
Publisher: Immortal Works Publishing
ISBN: 978-1953491978
ASIN: B08KWMX6BW
Number of pages: 282
Word Count: 78,959
Cover Artist: Immortal Works Art Team
What happens when you combine Magic and Baking? Cat Anderson will tell you all about it.
Cat Anderson doesn't want much out of life. Give her a circle of friends to giggle with, a few boys to flirt with, a cute outfit, and she is good to go! She especially could care less about food.
But food, it turns out, is a very big deal.
In Cat's family there is a secret too fantastic to be real. Something happens when Cat bakes.
Something amazing.
Something impossible.
Can it be true? Or is it Bake Believe?
Book Trailer 1: https://youtu.be/VqjTP_dlCsI
Book Trailer 2: https://youtu.be/oUDaeY8_fqI
Excerpt: Frozen Waffles
Why am I still in bed?
It’s the last day of summer vacation! I can’t waste one more minute, second, or millisecond sleeping. This is going to be the most epically awesome day of all time! Like, so good that awesome looks at this day and wishes it was this epic. This might sound like a lot of pressure, but I’m ready. For weeks I’ve been keeping track of the summer stuff I love to do most, so I could pick out all the best things. Now, I have a mental list just waiting for me to get to it:
-Go to the pool.
-Use sun lightener on my hair.
-Work on my tan.
-Try something new at the Snack Shack.
-Meet three new boys.
-Give at least one of the boys my phone number.
I am determined to squeeze the most amount of fun out of every single second of this day. Obviously, I can’t get any of it done while I’m laying here like a slug! I have to get up and call Robyn.
I roll out of bed, no clue what time it is. My stinking alarm clock has been tick-tick-ticking away the precious minutes of my last summer day, so I have been ignoring it with all of my might. Before I stand up, I smack the clock face down on the nightstand. I should have done that before. The irritating neon numbers, winking in my peripheral, were giving me a headache.
And headaches are not epically awesome.
I wonder, would Time stop if I use all my allowance to send it on a vacation to Hawaii? I can find a beachfront resort somewhere far away from me and Time can sit next to the ocean with a fruity little drink. I wouldn’t mind if Time decided to stay there for a couple weeks even. This could totally work. Even Time must need a break sometimes.
Or maybe not, since that darn clock is still going at it, just muffled now.
I plop my pillow down on my nightstand, to shush it even more, and I tiptoe to my bedroom door. As quietly as possible, I ease it open, so it doesn’t squeak. It does like to squeak sometimes, and I don’t want to wake anyone up in case it’s super early. For all that trying to ignore the clock’s tick-tocks, I didn’t actually look at the time.
I’ll just check when I get my phone.
Because of the family ‘no screens in bedrooms’ rule, my phone spends the night in a basket on the coffee table. Out of habit, I look both ways before I slip out of my room and into the hall. Not a creature is stirring. Even so, I prefer to sneak along the walls and slink around corners like I’m in some big deal spy movie. It’s just more fun that way. I serpentine down the stairs and army crawl across the living room. When I’m almost to the coffee table, I execute a super awesome somersault that leaves me on my back, staring up at the phone basket.
Nailed it.
I reach one arm into the basket and rummage around until I feel sequins. My phone! The most beautiful creation of turquoise and silver sparkles, I am very happy to have it in my hand.
I hold the phone above my head, over my face, while I text. My arms start to fall asleep instantly, but I ignore them, because this is super important.
Why am I still in bed?
It’s the last day of summer vacation! I can’t waste one more minute, second, or millisecond sleeping. This is going to be the most epically awesome day of all time! Like, so good that awesome looks at this day and wishes it was this epic. This might sound like a lot of pressure, but I’m ready. For weeks I’ve been keeping track of the summer stuff I love to do most, so I could pick out all the best things. Now, I have a mental list just waiting for me to get to it:
-Go to the pool.
-Use sun lightener on my hair.
-Work on my tan.
-Try something new at the Snack Shack.
-Meet three new boys.
-Give at least one of the boys my phone number.
I am determined to squeeze the most amount of fun out of every single second of this day. Obviously, I can’t get any of it done while I’m laying here like a slug! I have to get up and call Robyn.
I roll out of bed, no clue what time it is. My stinking alarm clock has been tick-tick-ticking away the precious minutes of my last summer day, so I have been ignoring it with all of my might. Before I stand up, I smack the clock face down on the nightstand. I should have done that before. The irritating neon numbers, winking in my peripheral, were giving me a headache.
And headaches are not epically awesome.
I wonder, would Time stop if I use all my allowance to send it on a vacation to Hawaii? I can find a beachfront resort somewhere far away from me and Time can sit next to the ocean with a fruity little drink. I wouldn’t mind if Time decided to stay there for a couple weeks even. This could totally work. Even Time must need a break sometimes.
Or maybe not, since that darn clock is still going at it, just muffled now.
I plop my pillow down on my nightstand, to shush it even more, and I tiptoe to my bedroom door. As quietly as possible, I ease it open, so it doesn’t squeak. It does like to squeak sometimes, and I don’t want to wake anyone up in case it’s super early. For all that trying to ignore the clock’s tick-tocks, I didn’t actually look at the time.
I’ll just check when I get my phone.
Because of the family ‘no screens in bedrooms’ rule, my phone spends the night in a basket on the coffee table. Out of habit, I look both ways before I slip out of my room and into the hall. Not a creature is stirring. Even so, I prefer to sneak along the walls and slink around corners like I’m in some big deal spy movie. It’s just more fun that way. I serpentine down the stairs and army crawl across the living room. When I’m almost to the coffee table, I execute a super awesome somersault that leaves me on my back, staring up at the phone basket.
Nailed it.
I reach one arm into the basket and rummage around until I feel sequins. My phone! The most beautiful creation of turquoise and silver sparkles, I am very happy to have it in my hand.
I hold the phone above my head, over my face, while I text. My arms start to fall asleep instantly, but I ignore them, because this is super important.
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Cori Cooper lives in the magical Arizona Mountains, which she’s pretty convinced is the setting for all the fairy tales.
Besides writing stories, she adores hanging out with her family, playing board games, hiking and baking, baking, baking. Like Cat’s family, she’s positive Cinnamon Rolls fix everything.
You can connect with Cori on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, Goodreads and her website – Coristories.com.
Tweet:
Take the first day of Middle School, stir in some Family Secrets, add a Cute New Boy, then mix vigorously with a dash of baking and a pinch of magic. What do you get? Bake Believe, by Cori Cooper. https://amzn.to/3sNiiFY
#coricooper #bakebelieve
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