Bakery
A counter business taking custom-cake enquiries alongside daily walk-ins.
139 templates · 139 with Astro source
Responsive static sites for the trades that need one page done properly — kitchens, salons, studios and one-person practices. Open the demo on your phone, decide, then take the free build or the Pro edition. One payment, no subscription, nothing to renew.
Both are the same design. The free build is the finished site under an MIT licence and is genuinely enough to launch; the Pro edition is for when you need to change the design rather than the wording, or you need the licence in writing for client work.
| Free edition | Pro edition | |
|---|---|---|
| Licence | MIT — free to use and modify | Commercial, no attribution required |
| Built static site | Yes | Yes |
| Astro source | No | Yes, on 139 of 139 |
| Photography | Not included | Included where the template uses it |
| Client and commercial projects | Allowed under MIT | Allowed, and written into the licence |
| Attribution | Appreciated, not required | Not required |
| Updates and email support | No | Included |
| Price | Free | $19 |
Grouped by the kind of business rather than by price, because the layout that suits a tattoo studio is not the one that suits a dietitian. Each links to its live demo.
Menu-led sites where the job is to make someone hungry and then tell them where you are.
A counter business taking custom-cake enquiries alongside daily walk-ins.
Dessert work where the photography has to carry the sale.
A rotating daily flavour list that changes faster than a printed menu.
Seasonal scoop shops with a flavour board and long summer hours.
Health-forward menus where the ingredients are the pitch.
A taproom with a beer list that turns over and events to fill.
By-the-glass lists and a room people book out for occasions.
Evening venues selling atmosphere as much as the drinks.
Weekend-peak rooms that live or die on the queue on Sunday.
A kitchen with no fixed address, so location is the headline.
A general sit-down room that needs a menu and a reservations path.
A neighbourhood café where hours and the story do the work.
Event catering sold in three packages, where the gallery closes the booking.
A taqueria where takeout is the conversion and the menu has to print.
Weekly specials that expire, sitting above a menu that does not.
Dry-age days and private dining — the two things that carry the cheque.
An omakase counter stating seats, courses and price per guest before anyone calls.
Teas priced by cup and by pot, with afternoon tea as the booked occasion.
Sourcing numbers in the hero, allergen flags on the dish rather than the footer.
In-home dining qualified by four priced tiers before the consultation.
Appointment businesses. Everything here points at one action: getting the booking.
Walk-in trade plus regulars who rebook with a named barber.
Multi-stylist floors where clients choose the person, not just the salon.
Nail art that sells visually, with hygiene as a stated objection.
Lash sets sold by style, with fills as the repeat revenue.
Licensed skincare where results and ingredients build the trust.
Freelance artistry led by portfolio, with bridal as the big ticket.
Multi-room spas selling packages and gift cards, not single treatments.
Clinical bodywork that needs to read as therapy, not pampering.
Resident artists with separate styles, plus flash and aftercare.
Credentialled practice work sold as programs, in person or telehealth.
Class-based studios converting drop-ins onto an intro offer.
Urgent, local, phone-first. The number and the service area matter more than the design.
Licensed work where the certification is part of the pitch.
Seasonal demand with maintenance plans as the repeat revenue.
Emergency call-outs won on flat-rate pricing and a visible service area.
A once-a-decade purchase, so the warranty carries the decision.
Commercial fit-outs judged on dates hit and change orders written.
Built-in joinery sold on the quality of six finished projects.
Colour work where the customer wants to see the shade before committing.
Seasonal grounds work, priced across the nine months that matter.
Plan-based service where the visitor self-selects before calling.
Recurring housekeeping that lives on a precise inclusions list.
Exterior cleaning priced by surface, not by the hour.
Per-pane pricing the customer can check themselves.
Arborist work sold on written assessments and a risk rating.
Lockouts and rekeys, won on hardware grades and a quote that holds.
Moves booked against a contract the customer has been taught to read.
Hauling priced by the fraction of a truck, with the diversion rate stated.
Water chemistry sold off a real test panel, on the smallest plan that works.
Hardwood, LVP and tile priced installed, and decided by the subfloor.
Renovations judged on how long a family lives without a kitchen.
Trades the customer walks in already suspecting an upsell, so every one of these shows the measurement before it shows the price.
Independent garages winning trust on book time and work they talked you out of.
Paint correction priced after the depth gauge rather than before it.
Tunnel washes selling unlimited memberships against a printed break-even.
Membership businesses. The schedule and the intro offer do more work than the hero image.
Independent gyms selling access, classes and three membership tiers.
A box where the workout of the day is what members visit for.
Fight clubs converting a free first session into a membership.
Belt progression and family programmes, sold to parents.
Walls, grades and day passes for people who have never climbed.
Small-group reformer work where class size is the selling point.
Terms, styles and recitals, with enrolment as the conversion.
One coach selling packages rather than a building.
Launch pages measured on one conversion, so everything else is subordinate to it.
A product with tiers to explain and a trial to start.
Pre-launch AI products collecting a waitlist.
An app whose page exists to earn a store install.
Studios that win work on the strength of the case studies.
One page before there is a product, doing the only job there is: collecting the email.
A countdown, a founder block and named backers — the only credibility a pre-launch page has.
Portfolio-led, but the work is never the hard part — every one of these answers the pricing and process questions a client asks after they have already decided they like the pictures.
Sixteen photographs and three photo stories, with a prints and licensing page behind them.
One collection priced on the page, and where the forty hours actually go.
Six sittings shown as what the sitter said first and what was done about it.
A run of show, because the moments you get twice are the ones nobody books for.
The shot clock per dish, and the throughput argument that forty is not fourteen.
A four-hour hero and a nine-minute packshot, separated before the brief.
Usage as the price, with the terms that are not in the photographer's favour.
Next-day turnaround, a shoot plan, and a list of what will not be retouched.
Which poses are composites, which are refused, and the safety questions to ask.
What an animal can be asked for, and free rebooking because it often cannot.
Full crew credits on every frame, and editorial rates said out loud.
Handwork sold by the piece, where the constraint — what the paper will take, what the skin will hold, what the clay loses in the kiln, how far a board still moves, how many days a stem has left — sets the price and belongs on the page rather than in the reply.
Five hands specified by nib and angle, and the five stocks that fight the ink.
Eight zones, each with the thinnest line it will still hold at ten years.
Four kiln loads published in order, thrown size to fired size, with the losses counted.
A quote as a formula off today's spot price, rather than a price list that ages.
Every canvas drawn to scale against a hang-line, and the date it may leave the studio.
A to-scale shop drawing, and the cut list and board feet computed off it.
A line sheet printing the wholesale and the retail price of the same garment.
Eight credited looks, and the pull ledger a PR showroom reads before releasing a sample.
A bouquet priced as a stem recipe, and vase life counted from the farm, not the shop door.
Practices whose fee is the first thing a client asks about and the last thing a portfolio publishes — so each of these puts the fee convention and the working schedule on the page before the photographs.
Net-to-gross efficiency computed per project, and the drawing register a permit office checks.
Four fee models side by side, and an FF&E schedule with trade cost beside client price.
Designers hired by a production rather than a customer, where the rendering is the least of it — the plot, the fitting calendar and the build budget are what a company reads first.
A costume plot that flags its 20- and 25-second changes, and the build hours they cost.
Work that is heard rather than seen, so none of these lean on a gallery — each ships a working document the client would otherwise have to ask for.
Four different jobs sold under one credit, separated into four rates.
A live room drawn to scale, so a band knows what fits before it books.
Shows and splits in public, with a ten-clause band agreement behind them.
A 254-day release calendar, and a demo policy that publishes its real ratio.
Dates that say what the night is, and a settlement worked line by line.
Bios at 50 and 250 words with copy buttons, and assets cleared for press.
Nine categories sorted into taken, rarely, and hire somebody else.
One read at $455 and at $3,665, with the usage that separates them.
The whole rider, four lines of eleven required, and three tempos to press play on.
A works catalogue with the performance count, including the three never played.
Nothing here is a shopfront. Each one exists to turn a reader, a listener or a follower into someone on a list you own.
Four novels as a real bibliography, plus a press kit a journalist can use.
A long archive under one featured episode, with a media kit for sponsors.
Downloads and mid-roll listens kept apart, every figure carrying its method.
Four real issues to read before subscribing, and a sponsor page behind them.
Five finished essays, seven tag indexes and a /now page — an archive that works on day one.
Film, video and animation, where the reel is the least useful document in the trade. Every one of these publishes the thing a reel cannot show — the shot list, the ledger, the calendar, the stage a note belongs to.
One scene as a real shot list: 12 setups, 58 takes, four minutes on screen.
41 submissions and 6 selections — the denominator every laurel wall deletes.
28 working days, and the 11 of them that are the studio waiting on you.
What a note may be about at each stage, and the 12 seconds that take five weeks.
The same change request at 1 hour and at 48, priced across six stages.
307 hours of work that is invisible when it works, and what your plate costs.
Work delivered as a file somebody else has to open, print, cut or ship — so each of these pages is about the constraint the output imposes rather than about the picture.
Seven checks to run before accepting an asset, none needing 3D software.
One subject drawn seven times, each for a different press and its floor.
A coverage table that names what the families cannot do, character by character.
A 19-chapter, 490-page archive and a posting record with its gaps intact.
Nothing here has a cart. Each one asks for something larger than a purchase — a retainer, a seat, a donation — so the page has to state the number and justify it in the same scroll.
Four engagements priced on the page, from a $500 sprint to a $4,500 team audit.
Six weeks with the outcomes named per week, and the seats left stated as a number.
Where the money goes published as 82/10/8, next to the tax ID and the audit.
One date, and everyone reading is trying to answer the same four questions before they email to ask: where, when, what it costs, and what happens next.
A two-track timetable, three ticket tiers, and an agenda an attendee can print.
An RSVP the caterer can actually use, and the shuttle times nobody wants to ask for.
One person, one page, and a very short window to be taken seriously.
Engineers who want projects read before the CV is opened.
The page a creator owns, instead of one rented from a link service.
A CV that prints to A4 or Letter, with a cover letter page behind it.
Designers whose buyer can build a page. What they are short of is the structure to put in it — the states, the credit, the audit, the search — so every one of these leads with a document rather than a grid.
One component in all nine of its states, as live markup rather than screenshots.
A contribution matrix that says which parts were this designer and which were not.
An identity audited eighteen months on, including the two rules that were wrong.
A funnel from 34 concepts to one filed mark, with the four that died at search.
Four case studies on their own pages, plus a services and rates page.
The one remaining market on this shelf with a settled habit of paying for assets. Each of the three publishes the number its trade normally leaves off the page.
The cut list as the portfolio: 40 designed, 22 shipped, 18 cut, priced in dev-weeks.
Salary bands and a dated crunch record on the public careers page.
A launch page whose strongest block is five reasons to skip the game.
Makers whose buyer can write the HTML perfectly well. What each of these ships is the page a maker keeps putting off — the teardown, the ledger, the docs, the gallery — with the numbers already in it.
Five shipped products with the sunset and the sale left in, and teardowns behind them.
A public revenue dashboard, and a build log carrying an MRR timeline and per-product P&L.
A CLI landing page — three commands, one TOML file — whose Pro edition brings the docs in-house.
A working client-side README generator with four persona starters, and a Pro widget gallery.
Ten projects filtered by status and stack — including the archived and the sold.
The three pages a software product needs and nobody wants to design. All three ship finished content — 16 written reference pages, 10 real release notes, and six error pages already wired into four frameworks — rather than an empty theme to fill.
Sixteen written pages: getting started, guides, examples and an API reference.
Ten entries across all six change types, with a public roadmap behind them.
404, 500, maintenance, offline, status and 403, with recipes for wiring each one up.
Nothing here gets compiled, and nothing sits running on a server waiting for a request. Four steps, and the first three you only do once.
Netlify, Vercel, Cloudflare Pages and GitHub Pages all have a free tier that serves a static site. Any ordinary shared host with an FTP upload works too.
Unzip the static build and drag the whole folder into the host's deploy box. There is no build command to configure and no server to provision.
Add the domain in the host's dashboard and update the DNS record it gives you. HTTPS is issued automatically on all four hosts above.
Open index.html in any editor, change the words between the tags, and re-upload. Nothing has to be recompiled for a copy change.
Most people should start free. These are the cases where paying is the right call.
Take the free edition of whichever template matches your trade, change the text, and ship it. You can buy the Pro edition later if you outgrow it — nothing is wasted.
Buy the Pro edition. The Astro source is where colours, type and section order actually live; the built HTML can only be edited so far before it fights you.
Pro edition, for the licence rather than the files. It is what permits client work and removes the attribution line.
Open the live demo on your phone before you decide. Every template on this page has one, and that is the whole point of them being free to look at.
The free edition is the built site under an MIT licence, which is enough to launch. The Pro edition adds the Astro source so you can change the design rather than only the words, a commercial licence with no attribution requirement, and on some templates a set of photographs the free build does not include.
If you can unzip a folder and drag it onto a hosting service, you can put the free or Pro static build online. Editing text and prices means opening one HTML file and typing between the tags. Changing layout or colours is where the Astro source, and some comfort with code, starts to matter.
Different trade-off, and the honest answer is that it is not always the right one. These are a one-off payment with no monthly fee and no platform to be locked into, and they are fast because they are plain static files. What you give up is the visual editor, the built-in booking and payment integrations, and the hosting being handled for you.
Yes — that is the case the Pro licence is written for. It covers unlimited personal and commercial projects including client sites, with no credit required anywhere on the page. The one thing you cannot do is resell the template itself as a template, theme or starter kit.
The photography in the Pro builds is licensed stock, included so the site looks finished on day one rather than as final artwork. Replace it with your own — a real photo of your room, your team or your work will outperform any stock image on a local business site.
Two downloads: the static build and the Astro source. The licence includes updates to that template and email support; you re-download from the same Gumroad link, so keep the receipt.
The content is yours and the markup is standard HTML, so the text and images port anywhere. The template itself does not convert — it is a static site, not a WordPress theme, and rebuilding it as one is a separate job.