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Bon Appetit: A Novel

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Pastries, Paris and romance–Lexi’s adventure has just begun!

Lexi Stuart is risking it all. Saying au revoir to the security of home, her job, and could-be boyfriend Dan, Lexi embarks on a culinary adventure in France to fulfill her life dream of becoming a pastry chef.

As she settles into her new home in the village of Presque le Chateau to study and work in a local bakery, her twenty-something optimism ...

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Pastries, Paris and romance–Lexi’s adventure has just begun!

Lexi Stuart is risking it all. Saying au revoir to the security of home, her job, and could-be boyfriend Dan, Lexi embarks on a culinary adventure in France to fulfill her life dream of becoming a pastry chef.

As she settles into her new home in the village of Presque le Chateau to study and work in a local bakery, her twenty-something optimism meets resistance in the seemingly crusty nature of the people and culture around her. Determined to gain her footing, she finds a church, meets a new friend, and makes the acquaintance of a child named Celine–as well as Celine’s attractive, widowed father, Philippe. Even Patricia, the gruff pastry cook, shows a softer side as she mentors Lexi in the art of baking.

As Lexi lives her dream, the only thing she has to do is choose from the array in life’s patisserie display window: her familiar home, friends, and family in Seattle or her new life in France. Lexi discovers that as she leans more on God the choices become a little clearer– and making them, well, c’est la vie!

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781400073283
  • Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
  • Publication date: 9/16/2008
  • Pages: 304
  • Product dimensions: 5.10 (w) x 7.90 (h) x 0.80 (d)

Meet the Author

Best-selling author Sandra Byrd enjoys a successful career writing adult, teen, and children’s books, including the Friends for a Season, Secret Sisters series and the French Twist series, including the first Lexi Stuart novel, Let them Eat Cake. She is also a regular contributor to newspapers and magazines. Sandra lives in Washington state with her husband and two children.

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Read an Excerpt

Chapter One

How can a nation be great if its bread tastes like Kleenex?
-Julia Child

Living in France was my dream, and I was going to make it work. With that goal in mind, I waited nearly two hours to get my autorisation provisoire de travail, the temporary work permit that would allow me to take a job at the Delacroix bakery while I attended pastry school.

A bored-looking woman behind the counter beckoned me forward with her finger.

“I need to apply for the APT,” I said in fluent French, handing over my paperwork. I had a letter from Luc’s uncle saying I would be working at two family bakeries in a neighboring village and town, the student resident permit Luc’s mother had acquired for me, and a letter from L’École du Pâtisserie stating I was enrolled in their sixteen-week program from September through December.

“If you are a citizen of a European Union nation, you don’t need this.” She flicked the papers back at me but paused to look at my identity card. “Lexi Stuart. What a strange name.”

“I’m an American.”

The room went quiet except for some muttering. I felt like shouting, Yes, an American. You know, the ones who saved you in World War II.

Instead, I forced a polite smile onto my face.

“You speak French,” the woman said, as if noticing for the first time.

I answered. “My permit, please?”

She moved incredibly slowly. Finally, having assembled and stamped all of my paperwork, she handed a card over the countertop. “You do know that you cannot work in France once you complete your school program? You’ll have to go home.”

I shook my head. “I read that foreign workers are welcome in France.” The words dried up in my mouth.

“Welcome? Non. But they can be hired. If no one in the EU can be found to do the same job, that is. Of course, we don’t have many bakers and pastry makers in France, so I am sure they’ll make an exception for you.” She directed her sarcastic laugh more at the woman next to her than toward me. The second woman coughed out a laugh, but hers seemed half hearted rather than truly cruel.

“Here, Lexi,” she said, drawing out my name to make it sound like “Leaksie” before continuing. “Bon courage. I hope you enjoy your stay in France. This permit expires in six months.”

I left, slowly walking to the Rambouillet city center, and stood by myself at the train station, permit in my purse, shoulders drooping, sensible shoes on my feet. I slumped onto a bench.

I heard the arriving train announced in French, and the suave melody of the language reminded me. Lexi! You’re in France. You’re living in France. Your dream has come true. One cranky, ill-informed government worker does not a nation make.

In spite of everything, I was here. I was breathing French air, eating real French bread, meeting French people. Kind of. I grinned, remembering a joke I’d read before leaving Seattle a few weeks ago.

In European heaven, the British meet you at the door, the Germans orchestrate your schedule, the Spanish plan your entertainment, and the French prepare your food.

In European hell, however, the Spanish orchestrate your schedule, the Germans plan your entertainment, the British prepare your food, and the French will greet you at the door.

Considering my welcome thus far, I could assume I’d landed in European hell. All I needed to confirm it was an unorganized siesta and a plate of fish and chips followed by a lively reading of Goethe’s Faust.

I decided not to worry. I’d make it work.

Thirty minutes later I got off the train and lifted my chin toward the sun. My village, Presque le Château, was perfect, a tiny jewel on the necklace of towns that encircled Paris. Old houses, tidily kept, lined the streets. The air was perfumed with the sweetness of orange blossoms and bitterness of orange zest. I trailed my hand along the low stone wall fronting the sidewalk. My fingers and heart tingled at the thought that hundreds of years before the United States was even a nation, some other young woman may have trailed her fingertips along this very wall, wondering what life held for her.

I called to a woman I passed on the street. She said, “Bonjour!” back to me. Would that exact woman show up to buy her baguette from me in a few days? In fact, that very woman may become a friend or end up buying baguettes that I make in a few months. Or ordering a birthday cake from me in a year! I loved that thought.

When Luc, my boss at the French bakery where I’d worked in Seattle, had first approached me with the idea of swapping places with his sister, I felt both excitement and anxiety. His family owned several bakeries in France and two in Seattle. As they expanded their business, the family members went back and forth between Seattle and France to get experience in both. Luc’s sister was coming to the US to work in Seattle for six months or more. Would I be interested in taking her place in France?

Mais oui!

I arrived at Luc’s maman’s house and pushed open the black wrought-iron gate. Their big stone house was threaded with ivy, and the wooden shutters were flung open, letting in the mid-July sun. As I walked by, I squinted at the windows, unable to see in through the lace curtains. That’s how the French were. Beautiful, stylish, but with a veil of privacy between you. Intimacy reserved. Since arriving a few days ago, I had not been invited into my host’s house. I was starting to fear that what I’d heard was true: I’d never be invited anywhere personal while here.

Come on, Lexi. It’s only been a few days.

I walked along the cobbled stone path that led to the cottage tucked behind the house. In the old days, it had housed the bread ovens. Luc’s family had transformed it into a perfectly petite cottage for his sister. Now it was my home.

I opened the door and walked in. The front room was a tiny kitchen, complete with all appliances, and an eating area with a wooden table for two, painted mustard yellow. Beyond that was the smallest living room I’d ever seen. A fairy room, really, perfectly proportioned, with two soft, needlepoint chairs and footstools. I pushed open the windows and inhaled the pepper and spice of the red geraniums spilling over the window box.

I opened my laptop and logged into my e-mail. One new one from my mom, which made me laugh. She was getting ready to visit Italy and said she’d wave when she flew over France. That was it for new e-mail.

My finger hovered for a moment, indecisive. Then I clicked on an older e-mail I’d read several times already.

Hey Lexi,

I know we said good-bye in person last night, but I wanted to send an e-mail to say one last thing. It’s hard to believe we’ve said good-bye for now. I keep thinking of things I want to tell you, but I know living in France is your dream. I admire you for working so hard to make your dream come true, and I want to honor that. Have the time of your life, and keep in touch from time to time. I want to hear what’s happening.


Yours, Dan. But the tone was much cooler than the heat we’d felt when saying good-bye in person.

I resaved the e-mail, pushed back the unwelcome emotions it aroused, and shut down the computer. Then I went into my bedroom and kicked off my shoes. I lay on my bed and fell into the deep sleep of the recovering jet-lagged.

When the phone rang hours later, darkness had swallowed the house.

“Hello?” I said, fumbling for the phone and trying to get my bearings.

“Hi, Lex.” It was Tanya, my best friend from home.

“Oh. Hi.”

“Wow, I’m overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of that greeting,” she said.

I laughed. “Just waking up.” A slow warmth spread through me. It was good to hear from Tanya, but I’d hoped it would be someone else.

I took the phone with me as I went to close the windows, looking jealously at the twinkling lights in the “great house” where Luc’s maman and papa lived. Chattering voices floated out of their windows despite the hour.

“Ready for work tomorrow?” Tanya asked.

“Yes,” I said. “Busy day, I think. It’s the Fourteenth of July. French national holiday, like July Fourth.”

“Trial by fire.”

I agreed. “Lots of dishes to wash, I’m sure.”

“When do you start school?”

“Not till the beginning of September,” I said. “That’ll give me plenty of time to make friends at the bakeries or in the village and figure out what I’m doing. I hope to make a couple friends to explore Paris with, and scope out what the future job market looks like.”

“It’s really nice that they’re paying for you to go to school while you’re working there,” Tanya said. “They’ll probably want you to stay on.”

“Yeah.” I hoped! “That’s how I know they feel like I have a future here. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be investing in me–the tuition and boarding costs.”

“Any word from Dan?” Tanya asked, her voice quiet.

“He e-mailed right after I left, and I e-mailed back. He’s busy working on a case. His law firm has really cranked things up. And their softball season is in full swing.” I thought maybe you were him when you called.

“You guys decided there was no commitment, right? Since you were leaving and didn’t know when–or if–you’d be back?”

“Yep. It was actually my idea. I wanted it to be open-ended since I didn’t know what the future held.” At least, that’s what I said I wanted.

“So it’s okay as it is,” she said, softly. “I’d better go. Steve is taking me to the lake. We’re jet-skiing with some other couples and want to scout the place out and swim a little first.”

“Oh,” I said. “Right.” We said our good-byes and hung up. I sighed and nibbled on a sandwich made from a crusty baguette of the most magnificent bread I’d ever tasted and some stinky cheese.

Then I laid out my uniform for the next day and set the alarm for three o’clock in the morning. It was really quiet, but I just lay there, wishing I could sleep.

When I did sleep, I dreamed Dan was jet-skiing with another woman, and Tanya and Steve knew and didn’t tell me.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 5
( 6 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 7 Customer Reviews
  • Posted October 19, 2008

    more from this reviewer

    An American Girl in Paris

    This book is everything you could possibly want for a good read. Engaging storyline, delicious food, exotic travel. While the cover of the first book in this series was yummy, the cover of this one was just plain deletable. I wanted to eat this book. I think I gained weight just by reading it. I think I probably was snacking also while reading. I enjoyed reading about Lexi's journey through culinary school and her total experience in France. I would have loved to be in her shoes throughout this book. Reading about her job in the bakery was a mouthwatering experience. Watching the Food Network probably helped out a lot for me understand the book more especially with the cooking language. The recipes sprinkled throughout the book are a wonderful touch giving the reader a chance to taste what Lexi is actually making. It makes the book more interactive and helps the reader get into the story more. One thing I did not envy about Lexi was her having to choose between Dan and Philippe. They're both good guys, so I feel bad for whoever she doesn't choose. Once again this story isn't preachy yet Lexi renews her faith through a new culture. I do love her observations about how everything in France is religious centered even if the people don't notice it. Honestly I could not find anything wrong with this book. I tried. I could say that French people are snobby and that Lexi was treated unfairly but it's a weak argument. It deserves nothing less than 5 stars. This book was a joy to read and is one that any chick lit, foodie or French culture fan will enjoy. I cannot wait until the next (and final) book in the series comes out next year. Until then I think I might have to go hunt down a bakery and find me some baked treats to tide me over. VERY HIGHLY recommended.

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted August 11, 2008

    an enjoyable tale

    Lexi Stuart dreams of becoming a pastry chef, but that means risking everything for special on the job training in France. Her boss Luc suggests a swap for six months with his sister Dominique. She decides to go for it leaving behind L¿Esperance the French bakery she works at in Seattle and her boyfriend Dan to work and learn at a bakery run by grumpy Madame Odette in Presque le Chateau.--------------- The adjustment does not go smooth as her twentyish American enthusiasm is looked at with disdain by many of the locals. Still she works hard and joins a church. However, she begins to feel welcomed when she meets preadolescent Celine and her father Philippe, an attractive widower. As her time overseas begins to count down, Lexi has to choose between Washington State and rural France both feel like home.-------------------- The sequel to the mouth watering LET THEM EAT CAKE is an enjoyable tale as Lexi struggles for acceptance in France where from her first entrance at the airport is scorned and laughed at. Readers will appreciate the tasty bakery scenes as ¿Mamam¿ initially treats her new employee like an ugly American. Although the romantic subplot feels too sweet. Sandra Byrd provides her audience with a deep look at France and French pastry cooking.------------------ Harriet Klausner

    1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 15, 2012


    I loved this book so much that i lent it to my mom!
    Who likes Bella Thorne?
    Leave comment with your answer

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  • Posted June 28, 2009

    more from this reviewer

    I Also Recommend:

    Second book in this French Twist series is a hit.

    Follow Lexi on her adventure in Paris.

    Lexi's opportunity to study pastry making in France comes true. She moves to France and enjoys all challenges but misses her family at home. She eventually makes new friends, but wonders where the Lord wants her -- back home in Seattle, Washington or in France.

    Lexi learns about life, love and French pastry making in Bon Appetit. I recommend this book for anyone's personal library.

    Was this review helpful? Yes  No   Report this review
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    Posted April 2, 2011

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    Posted January 23, 2011

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    Posted March 19, 2010

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