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The Parisian Christmas Bake Off
Jenny Oliver
'You know you're in for a treat when you open a Jenny Oliver book' Debbie JohnsonWelcome to the most celebrated patisserie competition in Paris – ready, steady, bake!Watching snowflakes settle on the Eiffel Tower, Rachel Smithson’s cosy English village feels very far way – as, thankfully, does her commitment-phobic ex, probably already kissing someone else under the mistletoe. But Rachel hasn’t come to Paris to mope she’s come to bake. Hard.Because the search for Paris’s next patisserie apprentice is about to begin! And super-chef judge Henri Salernes is an infamously tough cookie. But Rachel isn’t about to let her confidence (or pastry) crumble. She’s got one week, mounds of melt-in-the-mouth macaroons and towers of perfect profiteroles to prove that she really is a star baker.As well as clouds of flour, and wafts of chocolate and cinnamon, there’s definitely a touch of Christmas magic in the air… Rachel hasn’t come to Paris looking for a fairy-tale romance, but the city of love might gift-wrap her one anyway…Not even a dusting of icing sugar could make The Parisian Christmas Bake Off a more perfect Christmas treat!Praise for Jenny Oliver'I thoroughly enjoyed this book it had a sprinkling of festivity, a touch of romance and a glorious amount of mouth-watering baking!' – Rea Book Review'With gorgeous descriptions of Paris, Christmas, copious amounts of delicious baking that’ll make your mouth water, and lots and lots of snow – what more could you ask for from a Christmas novel!' – Bookboodle'The baking part of the book is incredibly well written; fans of The Great British Bake Off will not be disappointed to see all their favourites in here! This is a lovely little read that is perfect for the festive period!' – Hanging on Every Word'What a fun Christmas story! I loved the sound of this one and it was just as scrumptious as I had hoped!' – Fabulous Book Fiend'This is a festive read, but could equally be enjoyed at any time of the year - a lovely story to read with a huge cup of hot chocolate. And of course, a large wedge of cake.' – Books with Bunny'…it was everything I enjoy. Oliver did a wonderful job of allowing us to immerse ourselves in the lives of the pair, she created characters that were likeable and well rounded…I couldn’t find a single flaw in the book.' – 5* stars from Afternoon Bookery to The Little Christmas Kitchen
Welcome to the most celebrated patisserie competition in Paris – ready, steady, bake!
Watching snowflakes settle on the Eiffel Tower, Rachel Smithson’s cosy English village feels very far way – as, thankfully, does her commitment-phobic ex, probably already kissing someone else under the mistletoe. But Rachel hasn’t come to Paris to mope she’s come to bake. Hard.
Because the search for Paris’s next patisserie apprentice is about to begin! And super-chef judge Henri Salernes is an infamously tough cookie. But Rachel isn’t about to let her confidence (or pastry) crumble. She’s got one week, mounds of melt-in-the-mouth macaroons and towers of perfect profiteroles to prove that she really is a star baker.
As well as clouds of flour, and wafts of chocolate and cinnamon, there’s definitely a touch of Christmas magic in the air… Rachel hasn’t come to Paris looking for a fairy-tale romance, but the city of love might gift-wrap her one anyway…
Not even a dusting of icing sugar could make
The Parisian Christmas Bake-Off a more perfect Christmas treat!
The Parisian Christmas Bake Off
Jenny Oliver
Copyright (#ulink_0cf1ab9d-b26f-5f0d-90a4-813d3801d761)
HQ
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2013
Copyright © Jenny Oliver 2013
Jenny Oliver asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © June 2013 ISBN: 9781472073761
Version date: 2018-07-23
JENNY OLIVER wrote her first book on holiday when she was ten years old. Illustrated with cut-out supermodels from her sister’s Vogue, it was an epic, sweeping love story not so loosely based on Dynasty.
Since then Jenny has gone on to get an English degree, a Masters, and a job in publishing that’s taught her what it takes to write a novel (without the help of the supermodels). She wrote The Parisian Christmas Bake Off on the beach in a sea-soaked, sand-covered notebook. This time the inspiration was her addiction to macaroons, the belief she can cook them and an all-consuming love of Christmas. When the decorations go up in October, that’s fine with her! Follow her on Twitter @JenOliverBooks (http://www.twitter.com/jenoliverbooks)
Contents
Cover (#u84985fd0-7aa2-53a7-b2ab-881c7072d016)
Blurb (#u6255625b-54e7-5587-94e5-77e242b59c17)
Title Page (#ud760d948-8be4-5268-acff-9d0051bd0924)
Copyright (#ub8df271c-dd96-5dd3-941e-87c8a7013204)
Author Bio (#u256956bf-13a0-521d-b673-1ea2f6db365a)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc4c0ee27-efe5-501e-af37-22d8b3e0e45a)
CHAPTER TWO (#u9b3b2393-3930-5822-b66b-2fbf1500b768)
CHAPTER THREE (#u60a11f3b-60c8-585c-9737-f24e123c93b0)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u87e7627e-fcf9-5d89-9114-3e1e143488f4)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ud8504e79-21da-5e34-9d1d-2f3437b0a229)
CHAPTER SIX (#u5bfb82ff-3f65-5d72-9ace-8b61b12bd71f)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_c5818614-5329-58ab-8d6d-1afb8362b41f)
‘Why is Jesus a Buzz Lightyear?’
Rachel came into the school hall carrying two cups of PG Tips, and a packet of chocolate HobNobs that she’d stolen from the staffroom.
‘Purely for my own amusement,’ said Jackie, sitting back, feet up on a nursery-school chair as she took three biscuits out of the packet. ‘And because the arm fell off the normal one and Mrs Norris’s husband is fixing it.’ She nodded towards the stage. ‘The nativity’s good this year, isn’t it?’
Rachel turned to where fourteen five-year-olds had forgotten the words to ‘Away in a Manger’ as they rehearsed. ‘I’d say it bears a remarkable resemblance to last year’s.’
Jackie did a mock gasp of affront. ‘Except for the genius addition of the hip hop WyZe men and One Direction’s visit to the manger. I think I’ll make the school proud.’
‘The head’s going to kill you.’
‘It’s just a bit of fun.’ Jackie flicked open her ancient laptop as the kids on stage continued to sing a motley assortment of words while dressed in a variety of home-made costumes. ‘So fire me. Who else are they going to get to direct this? It’s not as if Nettleton has anyone pre-retirement age left—’
‘Look,’ shouted one of the kids on stage. ‘Miss Smithson’s here,’ he said, breaking off from the song as the others were belting out the second verse.
Rachel waved. ‘Hi, Tommy. Keep singing though—you don’t want to ruin the song.’ She could see the rest of her class starting to get distracted on stage.
‘But I don’t know the words,’ he said, looking as if he was about to cry.
Rachel jogged up to the front of the hall and climbed on the stage, whispering to Tommy as quietly as she could. ‘That’s OK, I never knew the words—when you don’t know them just open and shut your mouth like this.’ She did an impression of a goldfish.
Tommy giggled. ‘Can I go to the toilet?’
Rachel rolled her eyes. She didn’t envy Jackie the task of keeping this lot in order; just her own class were enough for her. ‘Yes, Tommy.’
‘Miss Smithson?’ said Jemima in the back row. ‘My wings keep falling off.’
Everyone had stopped singing now.
‘OK, I’ll have a look.’ Rachel tiptoed round in a crouch trying to be as unobtrusive as she could manage while Jackie tried to cajole them all back into singing.
‘Will you sing with us, Miss Smithson?’ Jemima asked as Rachel tightened her wonky angel wings.
Rachel swallowed, listening as the little voices had started up again on the fourth verse. ‘I erm …’ She found herself caught off guard with no ready answer, a whole heap of memories suddenly stuck in her throat.
‘Sing with us, please?’ Tommy was running back on stage, tucking his T-shirt into his cords.
‘No. I’m just going to watch.’ She shook her head, her voice annoyingly choked as she blocked out images of being on that stage herself with her parents clapping wildly from the front row. ‘I like listening to you,’ she said quickly, before jumping back off the stage.
Around the hall members of the PTA were building the nativity set, sewing costumes and making arrangements for lighting, seating, refreshments etc. Mostly they stood gossiping in groups, however, while one or two put together the bulk of the scenery—checking how well it had fared in the store cupboard since last year. Mr Swanson, Tommy’s father, was standing by the steps screwing together the roof of the manger. ‘Difficult time of year for you, isn’t it?’ he said as Rachel walked away from the stage.
‘Oh, it’s OK.’ Rachel waved a hand. ‘I’ll get through it. Great set this year, by the way.’
‘It’s the same every year.’ He laughed, then went on, ‘No need for a brave face, you know. We’re all here. All of us. Your mum was a great friend of ours and we miss her too.’
‘I know—thanks.’
He nodded and went back to changing the bit on his drill. ‘I was meaning to say, I thought you did a good job at the bake sale last week. Excellent scones. I’ve missed them, you know?’
She smiled. ‘Well, they’re not quite as good as Mum made.’
Mr Swanson thought about it and shrugged. ‘Nearly.’
In the background the children continued to sing out of tune as Jackie called instructions, and the parents chattered away, and Rachel found herself wishing, not for the first time this holiday season, that it could all just disappear. Poof. That she could click her fingers and it would be New Year and she wouldn’t have to shake her head and say everything was all right when people asked if she was OK, said that they always thought of her mum at this time of year and understood how hard it must be for her, and what was she going to do for Christmas. As Mr Swanson locked the bit in place on his drill, he put his hand on the wonky roof and said, ‘You’re a good girl.’
Rachel paused and allowed herself to nod as he watched her and smiled. Everyone was just being kind, she reminded herself. The village was like a family—they had all known her since she was tiny and they all wanted to make sure she was OK. Sometimes, though, she just wanted to be on her own. ‘Not so much of the girl any more though, Mr Swanson,’ she joked, trying to force a lightness into her voice.
‘Don’t say it.’ He shook his head. ‘You stay young, I stay young.’
‘OK, you’re on.’ Rachel laughed as she walked back over to where Jackie was stabbing at the keys of the decrepit laptop.
‘All right?’ Jackie glanced up.
‘Fine.’ Rachel nodded, looking back at the stage and taking a sip of her tea. She could feel her heart beating just a bit too fast.
Jackie was clearly about to say something more, to really check if Rachel was all right, but paused, the look on Rachel’s face making her decide against it, and said instead, ‘OK, look at this—’ Jackie pointed to the screen ‘—check this site out.’
Rachel peered forward to see the display. ‘What is it?’
‘Airbnb. It lets you turn your home into a hotel. Tonya from the hairdresser’s has let her flat out with them to a Swedish couple while she’s away over Christmas. Two thousand pounds she got for a week and a half. It’s amazing. Such a clever idea—your flat actually earns you money.’
‘Yeah.’ Rachel nodded, uncertain. ‘I think I remember one of my dad’s friends used it when he went to New York. Said the pictures weren’t anything like the place.’
Jackie shook her head. ‘Oh, he probably just likes a moan. I think it’s amazing. And especially good for someone like you who doesn’t care for Christmas. Wouldn’t you say?’
‘Not really.’ Rachel sipped her tea.
‘Oh, I think so. It’s a good way to make money,’ Jackie went on. ‘And the perfect opportunity for that person to do what they might always have wanted to do in life but was too scared to try.’
The kids on stage had changed song, coaxed into ‘The Holly and the Ivy’ by Miss Ven at the piano.
‘Jackie, whatever it is you’re driving at, I’m not interested.’
