Cupcake Goddess: Be Careful What You Wish For
A Novelette
By Shéa MacLeod
Cupcake Goddess: Be Careful What You Wish For
COPYRIGHT © 2012 by Shéa MacLeod
Published 2012 by Sunwalker Press, Portland, Oregon
The right of Shéa MacLeod to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. All characters in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons either living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art: Tamra Westberry
Edited by: Tamra Westberry and M. Edward McNally
Please visit Shéa MacLeod at https://www.sheamacleod.com/
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Also By Shéa MacLeod
Cupcake Goddess: Be Careful What You Wish For
Author’s Note:
A Note From Shéa MacLeod
About Shéa MacLeod
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Cupcake Goddess: Be Careful What You Wish For
Branwen had, quite frankly, had enough. She stared at the frosted cupcake in her hand and considered throwing it against the wall. She decided instead that such behaviour was not only un-goddess-like, but would result in the waste of a perfectly good cupcake. Therefore, she ate it.
“Mmmmm ... peanut butter. These humans really are quite clever.” She took another big bite of cupcake and moaned in ecstasy. Peanut butter cupcakes aside, humans were also incredibly annoying.
It hadn’t been her idea to live in this Podunk town in the middle of Nowhereville, America. All the good cities had already been taken by other deities so she was stuck in Granite Falls, Washington. Who even knew where that was? And why couldn’t she have wound up with Seattle, Portland or San Antonio? Heck, even Louisville would have been better than Granite-freaking-Falls.
It hadn’t been her idea to work a dead-end job and live in this crummy apartment and gain twenty pounds — okay, fifty — because of her cupcake addiction, either. Branwen was depressed, dammit. You would be, too, if the local sandwich shop was your best opportunity for career advancement and the most exciting thing to hit town was a minor case of the chickenpox.
Oh, no. It had all been the fault of those clever humans. Humans who decided they didn’t need the gods anymore. Without worship from their humans, the world’s deities had lost most of their power. Enough that the gods and goddesses had been relegated to living like mortals and scrounging for what crumbs of worship they could glean from modern humanity.
People still believed in Zeus. In a way. Thor, too, thanks to that idiotic movie. That’s why they got the prime real estate while Branwen got...Granite Falls.
She took another bite of cupcake. Admittedly they had good coffee. And cupcakes. Surprising for such a small town.
What really annoyed Branwen was that these same humans who thought they were so intelligent and superior weren’t doing all that well on their own. Oh, no. If the divorce rate, crime rate, and sheer volume of whining were anything to go by, they could use a bit of divine intervention right about now. Did they ask? Of course not.
Stupid humans.
Quite possibly the most annoying human of all was Branwen’s next door neighbor. The self-same neighbor that had driven her to indulge in this most recent cupcake binge: Bob.
His name wasn’t really Bob. She didn’t know his actual name, so that’s what she called him in her head.
One of the downsides of being a goddess was that one could easily hear through walls. . And the caterwauling coming from Bob’s apartment was enough to turn a goddess gray before her time.
With a huff, Branwen finished the last bite of cupcake. Then she brushed the crumbs off her fuzzy pink bathrobe, gave the robe’s belt a good, hard cinch, and strode for the door. It was time to take action. No more Miss Nice Goddess.
Something had to be done.
She wrenched open her apartment door, stormed across the hall, and banged (with a great deal more force than necessary) on “Bob’s” door. There was only silence until the door creaked open.
“Yes?”
He really was incredibly good looking, despite the fact he was wearing women’s pantyhose and a tragic shade of pink lipstick. His thick, chestnut hair curled just a little around nicely shaped ears and his nose and cheekbones would have done a Greek god proud. In fact, Branwen was half tempted to smite him just for having such ridiculously thick lashes. Honestly, if the man was going to wear women’s clothing he should learn to do it properly.
Branwen gave herself a good mental shake. She wasn’t here to ogle the man or give him tips on cross-dressing. She was here to teach him a lesson.
“So,” she said, casually flicking a cupcake crumb out of her cleavage. “You want to be a woman, do you?”
RYAN
