How To Draw Cinnamon Roll

As the tittles says, I summoned him, expecting to be loved, worshipped, taken care of. What I received was a spanking to my bum and a scolding for my attempts. But I did win a daddy, a really strict one that I would always choose no matter what. This is our story. Warning this is a cgl story, filled with fluff. Apologies for any misspelling and grammar mistakes.

Amigos' Love Story (Series)- Standalone book His Cupcake (Book One) Carlos Gonzales + Cassandra Johanson Cassandra Johanson, a girl who likes to write romance stories. She was on cloud nine when her new published novel became 'top picked' books but not too long until she found out something real about the book. The reality freak her out at the moment she found out the main character that she created from her own imagination was real and the guy was standing in front of her, proudly introducing himself. Carlos Gonzales, a successful businessman in the hotel industry, known as a serious, less of sense of humor & grumpy man. Unexpectedly found out that someone made him as the main character in the novel. He bought the book due to his curiosity but immediately got hooked up with it. The girl behind the book caught his attention. He came out with a plan to know more about her, but it wasn't easy as opposite personalities often need time to get along. *** "Damn, we should make it to one week. We shouldn't talk right now." I knew she purposely did that to piss me off. I smooch her lips without any warning. "This plump lip of yours," I said in between my gritted teeth after the kiss, "talked too much," and I continued while my eyes can't tear off from her lips that were slightly parted. "That's our first kiss," she whispered. "Yes, that was our first kiss. Should we make the second one?" I whispered back. *The picture doesn't belong to me. Credit to the original owner.

She cupped my face in her hands and said, slow and deliberate, "We're going to make a promise. Starting tomorrow, you'll draw one sun a day in your notebook. No skipping, no cheating—you have to fill it with thirty thousand suns. Only when you've drawn the last one can you come find me."

My younger sister, Mindy Sampson, has a rare blood condition. She needs regular blood transfusions and a bone marrow transplant. My husband, Ian Huffman, and I are matches. My mother says we should draw lots. Whoever draws the short stick will become Mindy's blood donor. In the next five years, I am always the one who draws the short stick. Because of constant blood draws and bone marrow extractions, my body breaks down. Before I die, I stumble upon Ian holding Mindy and saying, "Cindy is so stupid. There are only short sticks in the container. Every time, we let her draw first. How could she ever get a long one? "She is going to die without ever knowing you are not sick at all. Once she dies and we get the insurance money, we can travel the world." When I open my eyes again, I am back in the fifth year after Mindy is diagnosed. I look at the container of sticks on the table and smile. Then, I look at Ian and say, "This time, you draw first."

My mother sells special éclairs. Each one costs a thousand dollars, but the female customers fight each other to buy them. They look like they can't get enough. My sister wants to take a box to share with her boyfriend when she sees how popular they are. However, my mother firmly rejects her. She says she's the only one who can touch those éclairs. My sister refuses to listen. She secretly sneaks into the freezer in the basement. Then, in the middle of the night, I hear her wanton moans.

On our wedding anniversary, I wanted to drive out and buy a cake to celebrate. But the moment I got into the car, I noticed the driver's seat had been pushed forward. There were also a few bread crumbs scattered inside. I called my husband. "Has anyone been driving my car lately?" His voice carried unmistakable guilt. "My cousin borrowed it yesterday for the whole day. Why?" His cousin was six-foot-three—twice my size. More importantly, he was severely allergic to wheat and avoided pastries like the plague. I let out a soft laugh, hung up, and drove straight to the bakery my husband had been frequenting lately. Inside, a sweet-looking girl was chatting and giggling with her coworker. "So what if I'm short? I have to move the seat all the way forward when I drive, but at least someone spoils me!" The moment she saw me, her carefree smile vanished, replaced by panic. I crossed my arms and tilted my head as I looked at her. Lucas had always told me I was too tall—not quite his preferred type. Looks like he'd finally found himself a petite little lover.