Show Me The Honey (Sweet & Dirty BBW #1)

By: Cathryn Cade



friend & fellow author

Debra Elise

for her fabulous story suggestions,

including more of Jack.


When a small town cafe owner is grabbed by a rambling biker looking for nearly a million in stolen cash, she must convince him to let her go. But finding out he has the wrong woman only makes him more determined to hang onto her … this time for all the right reasons.

Lindi Carson has no time for romance in her life—not when she’s scrambling to make a success of her Coeur d’Alene Lake shore café. She’s barely keeping her head above water when biker Jack Moran hits town, sure she knows where to find nearly a million in stolen cash. When Jack grabs her, Lindi must convince him he has the wrong woman.

But Jack’s not the only one after the money, and someone is willing to kill to get it. With murder lurking in this idyllic resort town and a dangerous MC on the prowl, Jack must persuade Lindi she belongs not only under his protection … but in his arms. He’ll use every ounce of his rough charm to get her, but he may have to battle old ghosts to keep her there.

Can he convince her that love’s sweetness is worth the sting?

A Sweet & Dirty BBW Romance

Chapter One


Lindi Carson steered her bicycle off the lake road and into the parking lot of the BeeHive Café. Gravel crunched under her tires as she coasted toward the small, white building hunched in the early morning shade of the mountain. Her breath steamed in the chilly air.

She scanned the evergreens on the far edge of the lot and then sighed with relief, her tight shoulders relaxing. No beefed-up vintage Chevy Blazer idled in the shadows this morning. And if Darrell wasn’t here by now, he was off somewhere on business. Which meant that for once she could begin her day without her creepy nemesis glowering at her from the corner table, freaking her out and making her so nervous she sometimes forgot parts of breakfast orders and nearly burned others, thereby threatening the burgeoning reputation of the BeeHive Café for serving the best breakfasts on the north shore of Coeur d’Alene Lake.

After wheeling around to the back of the café, Lindi switched off her bike safety lights and leaned it against the cinderblock wall behind the dumpster. She fished the keys from her pocket, unlocked the back door and stepped into the warm quiet of the tiny back hallway, lit by an emergency nightlight high on the wall.

She inhaled the familiar odors of cooking and cleaner as she stripped off her gloves and flexed her cold fingers. Riding a bicycle at dawn in early April could be a chilly endeavor. An unseasonably warm spell had melted the remains of a late snow off the North Idaho roads, and the weather report called for a warm afternoon, but this morning the thermometer on her kitchen window had read only forty-seven degrees. And just looking at the snowbanks still lying in the shadows of the evergreens along the lake road had made her feel colder as she pedaled.

Cycling was great exercise, she reminded herself. Since deciding to walk or ride her bike whenever she could instead of driving her ailing Caprice, she’d lost nearly five pounds. She’d hoped to lose more, but evidently she’d have to give up eating for that to happen. She enjoyed food way too much to do that. She also ate when stressed, and lately her life qualified as stressful with a capital ‘S’.

Luckily, she enjoyed feeding other people even more. Loved watching their faces light up when they saw her offerings, loved watching them take that first bite and then close their eyes in bliss. And not in some fancy cordon bleu restaurant, but right here.

Anticipation fired with each one of the bank of lights she stopped to flick on. First the kitchen, merciless fluorescent that showed every flaw and crumb, then the warmer yellow lights in the café proper.

Unzipping her windbreaker and the fleece jacket underneath, she tossed them onto her office chair as she passed the tiny cubicle that held a desk and file cabinet opposite the big upright freezer. Her bicycle helmet joined the jacket.

In the narrow galley kitchen, she pulled a clean, black apron from the pantry and tied it on over her white tee and black yoga pants. With black trainers, this comprised her work uniform.

Next, she uncovered the fryers, checked the oil levels and then powered them up along with the grill. She set the two ovens to warm, made sure the smoke detectors were working, and hurried around the other side of the high service counter to get the first pots of coffee going.