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Jenika Snow

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There wasn’t much I wanted out of life but having my bakery succeed, being able to continue doing what I loved to do, and finding a woman who could make me feel whole.

And then the moment she walked into my bakery, I knew there would be no other for me.

For months, I watched her sit at that little table in the corner and read. For months, I thought of a million different things I wanted to say to her.

I might not have stalked her, but I sure as hell wanted to. I thought about it. Finding more out about Zara, and all the things I wanted to do to her, had become an obsession. 
Zara was gorgeous and curvy … exactly the type of woman I fantasized about having by my side.

But finding the courage to man up and go after what I wanted—her—was harder than I thought. I guess when you find the perfect person for you, the idea of being rejected could turn anyone into a coward.

Until one day I wasn’t willing to let her walk by without me saying something to her. I couldn’t stay away. I wanted more.

Whipped, that’s what I was, but only for Zara.

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Jenika Snow Books

Chapter One


“You want me to handle that?” I sat up straighter in the chair and stared around the boardroom. I was the only woman in a roomful of men, all of them staring at me. “You want me to be in charge of the dessert catering… for the event I helped organize?” I tried to keep the bitterness out of my tone, but I was failing miserably, and by the uncomfortable expression on many of the guys’ faces, it looked like it was affecting them.

Normally, there wasn’t anything demeaning or bad, per se, to be the one to organize the dessert catering, but in this instance, it definitely devalued me.

“We think you’d be the best person to set that all up,” Richard said and gave me a smug smile. I might’ve thought he was just being an asshole—well, more so than usual—but he wore that smug expression daily.

It was hard working for a multimillion-dollar advertising company, when sexism and discrimination was very real in the workplace. As the assistant to the social director, I wasn’t someone who ran and got coffee, made copies, or set up daily appointments. I helped with organizing events, drafted proposals, and did about a hundred other things.

“You’re the best candidate.”

I lifted an eyebrow and stared at Bryce. His words stung and frankly pissed me off.

“I’m the best candidate?” I glanced at all of them. “You guys thought I would be the best person for this job?” I gathered up my papers and files, stood up, and stared around at the ten men who had their focus trained right on me. “Why? Because I’m a woman? Because you think I’m obsessed with eating desserts? Is it because of my size?” I could see my words were hitting home.


They needed to be uncomfortable.

They needed to know they were crossing lines.

“Let’s not forget I have a degree, a higher degree, in fact, and a more prestigious position than several of the men currently in this boardroom.” More shifting in their seats. More awkward glances.

They obviously didn’t know who they were talking to when they decided to call this meeting.

“Let’s not forget that I’m not some errand girl. I do serious work here at the agency.” Although my words were strong, my voice even, I was hurt.

“We didn’t mean anything by it. We just figured you knew the best places to go, the best catering for the party. We certainly don’t want Kevin ordering frozen brownies and stale cookies to serve to the donors.” Richard was trying to cover his ass, that was clear.

I breathed out slowly and shook my head. “I’ll do this, because I’m a team player and this is for the company, for a good cause. But I know exactly why you tasked me with this job, and gentleman, I don’t shit where I sleep.”

There was a murmur from the men.

I turned and left, not saying anything else as I closed the door behind me. Maybe I should have kept my mouth closed and just agreed. But why? I was done bending over and taking it in the ass, so to speak, by everyone around me.

A lot of people, including myself, had worked damn hard to make this charity dinner a success. And I wouldn’t let my pride or some ignorant coworkers get in the way of it all.

I headed straight to the bathroom and closed the door, exhaling roughly and feeling my anger turn into disappointment, which turned into me just being downright sad.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I realized the woman who stared back at me had stopped taking shit in her life a long time ago. At twenty-five years old, I’d earned a college degree, held a pretty damn good position at this firm, and loved every aspect of my life. Sure, I was a “bigger” girl. I had curves most people didn’t and couldn’t appreciate.

Throughout my life, I’d dealt with people making comments about my size. And of course, it had hurt. Of course, it had been another chip out of my self-confidence. But the older I got, the more I realized that what other people said didn’t matter. I realized I really didn’t give a fuck about anyone else.

I grew to love the way I looked, loved my womanly curves. I accepted a lot of things in my life, but what I would never accept again was someone putting me down because of my gender, my position, or the fact that I wasn’t some svelte runway model.

Nope. I was not that girl anymore, and it felt really damn incredible.

I knew exactly where I was going for the catering, and it was strictly for selfish reasons.

I walked down the busy street and headed toward Knead You. I had a list of things our company would like to see on the dessert menu, and although I should be professional about all of this, the truth was, I was anxious to see the owner.