Dream Bites Cookbook: Cooking with the Commandos

  DREAM BITES

  COOKBOOK

  Cooking with the Commandos

  Short Stories by New York Times Bestselling Author

  KRISTEN ASHLEY

  Recipes from USA Today Bestselling Author

  SUZANNE M. JOHNSON

  Dream Bites Cookbook

  Copyright 2020 Kristen Ashley

  Recipes copyright 2020 Suzanne McCollum Johnson

  ISBN: 978-1-952457-14-2

  Published by Blue Box Press

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.

  Kristen’s Note

  Before we begin, here are a few things I’d like you to know about this cookbook.

  The first is that the entirety of my portion of the royalties earned from this book will be divided equally among the Rock Chick Nation (RCN) charities.

  RCN charities are, for the most part, women’s and girls’ charities that were nominated by my readers to receive donations accrued from a variety of activities I do with my Chicklets (Chicklets=KA readers).

  That “for the most part” above means that we also give money to Bikers Against Child Abuse (BACA), a charity selected by me when I learned of the essential and tireless work BACA does for children who very much need a bunch of bikers at their backs. This selection was made after I wrote a book where my hero was a survivor of abuse from his father (Joker in Ride Steady of the Chaos series). That said, BACA was introduced to me by a reader.

  The other charity, Black Girls Code, is a girls’ charity selected not by my readers, but by my beloved nieces, one of whom is an engineer, the other a nurse. And both (and I wholeheartedly concur) feel strongly that all young girls should have the opportunity to be exposed to STEM (science, technology, engineering and mathematics).

  You can learn more about the Rock Chick Nation, and these donations, called Rock Chick Rewards, on my website at: kristenashley.net.

  The other thing to know is that, if you’re a new reader to me, or haven’t been following me long, a hallmark of my writing is that I love my characters so much, I can’t (and don’t) say goodbye.

  Therefore, there is quite a bit of crossover in all of my books.

  I do this so I can visit with them.

  I do this so my readers can too.

  This book is no exception.

  Therefore, for the initiated Chicklet, in this book you’ll not only see the Dream Team, you’ll get to spend time with some of the gang from the Rock Chick, Dream Men, and Chaos books.

  I embarked on this project to give my readers a little something extra and at the same time make some dosh to do good deeds. So I tried to pack as much of a punch of goodness into it as I could.

  Therefore, if you’re a new Chicklet, see the end of the book for a reference of characters and where they appear. I offer this so you won’t feel out of the loop, but also should you want to discover their stories.

  Last, many writers write about things that are very personal to them.

  I am no exception.

  In doing that, I often imbue characters with traits or qualities of people I love.

  Or I just base a character on someone I adore, full stop.

  Over the years, as life takes its inevitable course, this practice has, on a number of occasions, become bittersweet.

  Again, readers who have been reading me for a while know these stories, but many don’t, and before you carry on reading the narrative of this book, some “inside” things need to be explained.

  The first is that the character of Tod was based on a very dear friend of mine, Rick Chew.

  Rick has since passed, eventually succumbing after years of battling cancer.

  He was one of a kind, and if you haven’t read the Rock Chick books, but you give them a shot, please know I changed not one thing about Rick. He was larger than life. He was loyal as fuck. He was funny as hell. We shared the same shoe size.

  And I miss him horribly.

  The second is that I gave my own cats to a hero and heroine in my Chaos novels.

  At the time I didn’t know that one of my babies, Axl, had cardiomyopathy.

  I’m a pet person and an animal person. I’ve had pets all my life. And losing them is never, ever easy.

  Axl, however, was that one fur baby you’re graced to have in a lifetime. He was because he was not mine, I was his. He was my kitty alpha who claimed me and made no bones about who was whose and how much love he had to give to the one who was his.

  And his loss broke me.

  To that end, essentially in this book, I’m not only looking in the face of my beloved Rick, I’m also visiting Axl, who will live in the pages I’ve written, forever loved and happy in feline…and human form.

  With that I bid you to enjoy what I wrote and the utter deliciousness Suzanne crafted for you. I had the pleasure of being a satisfied recipient in Suzanne’s test kitchen for many of these recipes, and I tried out many of the others in my own kitchen and devoured them with glee.

  In other words, I can assure you, you are in for a treat.

  So enjoy.

  And as ever…

  Table of Contents

  Kristen’s Note

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE: MAG - CERTIFIED

  Recipes from the Kitchen of Danny Magnusson

  Mag’s Appetizers

  Cheesy Bacon Knots ~ Buffalo Chicken Rolls ~ Southwest Rolls

  Mag’s Mains

  Pimento Cheese Bacon Burger ~ Monte Cristo Sliders ~ Grilled Pizza

  Mag’s Desserts

  Evie’s Cinnamon Clusters ~ Chocolate Chip Cookies

  Mag

  Bonus from Mag and Evie for the Puppers

  Dog Treats

  CHAPTER TWO: BOONE - NOT A HOUSE, A HOME

  Recipes from the Kitchen of Boone Sadler

  Boone’s Appetizers

  Bruschetta with Caramelized Onions and Mushrooms ~ Jala’ Poppin’ Bites with Blueberry Pepper Jelly

  Boone’s Sides

  Cobb Wedge with Blue Cheese Dressing ~ Smoked Mac and Cheese

  Boone’s Mains

  Bacon Wrapped Steak Kabobs ~ Boone’s Lasagna (the Chefy Kind) ~ Ryn’s (Momma’s) Lasagna (the Cheat and Eat Kind) ~ Ryn’s Momma’s Homemade Caesar Salad ~ Smoked Boston Butt ~ Filet with Blue Cheese Sauce

  Boone’s Desserts

  Bacon Cinnamon Rolls

  Boone

  CHAPTER THREE - COMES FROM THE HEART

  CHAPTER FOUR: AXL - TAKE CARE OF YOU

  Recipes from the Kitchen of Axl Pantera

  Axl’s Appetizers

  Petite Potato Wedges with Homemade Ketchup ~ Loaded Petite Potato Wedges ~ Deviled Eggs 3 Ways-Pimento Cheese & Bacon ~ Deviled Eggs-Mexican Street Corn ~ Deviled Eggs-Cajun Crab

  Axl’s Mains

  Tuscan Chicken ~ Pork Tacos with Peach Salsa ~ Apple Stuffed Pork Chops

  Axl’s Desserts

  Turtle Pie ~ Coca-Cola Cake ~ Dr. Pepper Cake

  CHAPTER FIVE - MESSIN’ WITH FAMILY

  CHAPTER SIX - SOMETHING SPECIAL

  More Recipes from the Kitchen of Axl Pantera

  Axl’s Sandwich and Side

  Fried Pork Sandwich ~ Fried Corn

  Something Special, The E
nd

  CHAPTER SEVEN - ALL ON MY SIDE

  Recipes from the Kitchen of Auggie Hero

  Auggie’s Appetizers

  Pimento Cheese Hushpuppies with Blueberry Pepper Jelly ~ 1-2-3-GO Pork Rind BBQ Nachos ~ 1-2-3-GO Pork Rind Fiesta Nachos

  Auggie’s Mains

  Chicken Gyros ~ “Pre-Game” Philly Cheese Ribeye Steak ~ Ham and Hash Casserole

  Auggie’s Desserts

  Candied Cashews ~ Auggie and Juno’s Chocolate Butter Bars

  Bonus Round

  An Elvira Board ~ Hot Pepper Brie in Puff Pastry ~ Elvira’s Famous Cosmopolitan

  All on My Side, The End

  CHAPTER EIGHT - INEVITABLE

  Recipes from the Kitchen of Brett “Cisco” Rappaport

  Brett’s Appetizer

  Grilled Cheese Bread Bowl with Tomato Basil Soup

  Brett’s Mains

  Oh’ Honey, You’re HOT!...Chicken Sandwich ~ Nashville Hot Chicken

  Brett’s Desserts

  Key Lime Cream Pie ~ Brownie Lasagna ~ Chocolate Chess Pie

  Hawk and KA Take a Ride

  Afterword

  Dream Bites Character Reference

  Other Books by Kristen Ashley

  Other Books by Suzanne McCollum Johnson

  About the Author – Kristen Ashley

  About the Author – Suzanne M. Johnson

  Prologue

  Coming Home

  KA

  I fly into Denver International Airport, pick up my rental car, and fret that, after I leave Peña Boulevard, I won’t be able to find my way downtown.

  That emotion is wasted.

  Time has flown. It’s been nearly two decades since I left Denver. And when I did, I knew the Mile High City like the back of my hand.

  But as my car cruises the distance, I find that hasn’t changed.

  I’ve made a life in other places.

  But being in Denver always feels like coming home.

  Arriving downtown, I check into Hotel Teatro, itching to head right back out.

  Once I dump my bags in my room, this is what I do.

  Get to Speer Boulevard.

  Turn onto Broadway.

  Go south.

  When I near it, I search for a parking spot (not easy).

  I then hoof it to that special corner on Broadway where it all began.

  All of it.

  The realization of my dream.

  I open the door and the bell above it rings.

  Immediately, I see there’s a huge movie poster of Da 5 Bloods tacked over the shelves behind the espresso counter, this partly obscuring an epic collage of pictures of cats.

  I walk to the line extending from the counter, eyeing the two people who are busy behind it.

  I wait in line and finally make the front.

  Of course, the gorgeous, curvy redhead who waits on me doesn’t recognize me.

  I pretend I don’t know her intimately and order a Textual, the bespoke coffee drink named after the famous barista who is working next to her. His hair is wild, his beard wilder, and his manner even wilder.

  He’s now banging on the large, red espresso machine, creating his concoctions from what appears to be brute force.

  He’s doing this multitasking.

  The other task he’s performing is having an argument with a man with a long gray ponytail peeking out from under the back of a bandana wrapped around his cranium. A man who is all the way across the bookstore standing behind a counter.

  “It’s about where that damned red cap landed in the end, motherfucker,” the barista is saying. “That’s Spike’s statement.”

  “I’m not disagreeing with you,” Bandana Man replies.

  Famous Barista returns, “Then what were you saying?”

  Which brings an exasperated, “Man, the same thing as you. Spike Lee doesn’t give you anything for free, brother. With Spike, you gotta earn it. And to do that, you gotta pay attention.”

  Since I’ve seen the film (and the huge-ass poster is a big honking clue), I know they’re talking about Da 5 Bloods.

  The redhead gets close to the barista in order to give him a cup with a drink order, a heart with an arrow through it and several stars drawn on it with a hot pink sharpie (my cup has a stick figure alien on it made up of an oval with eyes, nose and smiling mouth, antennae looping from the top, with mitten hands sticking out each side and globs for feet).

  “It bums me out when Duke agrees with me,” the barista grumbles to the redhead.

  That’s when she looks at me.

  And winks.

  Indy Nightingale.

  Winking at me.

  My heart flips in my chest as I smile back.

  Through all of this, I’m waiting at the end of the espresso counter to get my drink.

  And when Tex, the barista, puts it there, I mutter, “Thanks.”

  He doesn’t even look at me.

  He starts banging on the big red machine again.

  I grin to myself, find a seat in the seating area at the front of the store that has tables, chairs, armchairs and a couch in front of the window, all a general mishmash that is totally disordered and even more totally welcoming.

  As I sit, I take it all in—the hustle and bustle of Fortnum’s Used Books—and I do this while I wait for the large-ish round table in the corner to clear out so I can nab it.

  This takes twenty minutes.

  I don’t even wait for the staff to clean it off.

  I nab it.

  I sit with my back to the wall.

  Which is the perfect positioning for what happens fifteen minutes later.

  The door opens.

  The bell above it clangs.

  Conditioned to do this after the many escapades that have happened in that store, and the books that are based around it, not to mention the quality of person that tends to walk through, everyone in the store looks right to the door.

  Because you never know what’s going to walk into Fortnum’s.

  And what might happen after they do.

  All of us are immediately rewarded for our effort.

  Because in walk four of Hawk Delgado’s commandos.

  Daniel “Mag” Magnusson.

  Boone Sadler.

  Axl Pantera.

  And Augustus “Auggie” Hero.

  They’re here to see me.

  Chapter One

  Certified

  Mag

  One month earlier…

  Mag was in the kitchen with a pastry brush in his hand when he heard the back door open.

  His timing couldn’t have been better.

  Evie was home from class.

  “Oh. My. God!” he heard her shout from the utility room.

  He grinned to himself as he continued to brush garlic butter.

  But he didn’t miss it as she walked into the kitchen, book bag over her shoulder, eyes not on him, but on what he was doing at the island in the kitchen of their new house.

  The house wasn’t new, as in a new build.

  It was an old bungalow in Wash Park that had a utility/mud room, a great kitchen, a dining nook, a groovy living room with big windows, a decent master, guest room, and Mag’s favorite part, a finished basement.

  They hadn’t been there long.

  And he was already drowning in Boho.

  He didn’t give a fuck.

  It made Evie happy to OD on Anthropologie, Urban Outfitters, and vintage shops.

  It also gave him something to give her shit about.

  And he wouldn’t tell her this (or at least he wouldn’t until the time was right), but he actually liked it.

  Outside the finished basement, which she’d declared his “domain” (and she’d used the word “domain,” such a cute fucking dork), the kitchen was the best room in the house.

  Wild patterned tile as a backsplash. Taupe-gray cabinets. Wood countertops and open shelves.

  And lots of freaking plants (nearly all of them given to them by Ryn).

  He�
��d balked when Evie had told him she wanted to buy a mint green SMEG fridge to pick up the mint green color the base of the island was painted.

  In the end, though, he’d given in.

  He’d made a habit of doing that when it came to Evie.

  He didn’t give a fuck about that either.

  “What are you making?” she asked, eyes big and focused on the tray on the island.

  “Cheesy Bacon Knots,” he answered.

  “Did I do something amazing I’m not aware of to earn this fantasticness?” she asked.

  Fantasticness.

  His woman was not only a dork, she was a nerd and a goof.

  Certified for all.

  And perfect for him.

  “That blowjob this morning pretty much rocked,” he told her.

  He saw her lips turn up as she dumped her book bag on a stool by the entryway to the utility before she wandered to the island, her gaze now resting on him, doing all of this saying, “If it was that, I’d weigh thirty pounds more than I do.”

  She wasn’t wrong about that.

  She dug sucking him off.

  And he seriously dug that she did and how she did it.

  That said, he didn’t cook his gratitude for her.

  Strike that.

  He did.

  He made her breakfast every morning.

  Something he did that morning after the phenomenal blowjob she gave him.

  But it was usually Evie who made their dinner.

  “Hawk’s got a thing,” he shared.