Wednesday, August 29, 2018

EASY SUMMER SWEET

from Chris Pavesic

These treats mirror the taste of a mass-produced candy bar while at the same time being made with simple ingredients. My family likes a bittersweet chocolate with a high amount of cacao, but you can use whatever type of chocolate you like the best. These pair exceptionally well with a dish of homemade vanilla ice cream.

Chocolate Coconut Squares
6 oz. sweetened condensed milk
1 tbsp. vanilla
1/8 tsp. salt
2 cups powdered sugar
14 oz. sweetened shredded coconut
16 oz. bittersweet chocolate (1 bag of chocolate chips can be substituted.)
2 tbsp. melted butter
Extra butter to coat aluminum foil

Line an 8x8 straight edged pan with aluminum foil, overlapping the edges, and lightly coat with butter.

Combine condensed milk, vanilla, and salt in a medium-sized bowl. Stir in powdered sugar (1 cup at a time) until you have a smooth mixture. Add coconut and mix until thoroughly coated and combined. Pour mixture into the prepared pan and press in to an even layer using your hands or rubber spatula lightly coated with butter.

Refrigerate for at least an hour, until firm enough to cut in to squares.
When the coconut mixture has set, lift out of the pan by the foil. Peel the foil off and place on a cutting board. Cut in to strips then cut in to squares.

Pop the squares back into the refrigerator. Keep refrigerated until ready to coat.

Heat a double boiler until the water simmers. Add chocolate to the top pan. Stir every so often until it has melted. Add butter, stir until chocolate and butter are completely blended and the chocolate is thinned and shiny.

Use a fork to dip each coconut square in to the chocolate. Allow any excess drip off. Place coated bars on a wax paper lined baking sheet. Continue to dip the bars and then let them sit until the chocolate is firm and set.

Store at room temperature or refrigerate.

Treat yourself to a few candy squares while you enjoy a brief glimpse into my newest release, Travelers Zone.


The amazing story of Cami Malifux continues with Book 2 of the Revelation Chronicles.

Escape from a world of darkness into a magical realm of limitless adventure.

In Starter Zone, Cami kept herself and her younger sister Alby alive in a post-apocalyptic world, facing starvation, violence, and death on a daily basis. Caught by the military and forcefully inscribed, Cami manages to scam the system and they enter the Realms, a Virtual Reality world, as privileged Players rather than slaves. They experience a world of safety, plenty, and magical adventure.

Indeed, magic, combat, gear scores, quests, and dungeons are all puzzles to be solved as Cami continues her epic quest to navigate the Realms and build a better life for her family. But an intrusion from her old life threatens everything she has gained and imperils the entire virtual world.

Time to play the game.

Praise for The Revelation Chronicles:

"She entered the game and I was hooked. I don't even play that kind of computer game, but the story was as addicting as I imagine a real MMORPG to be. Each level up, each new character, each new threat drew me in. I wish I could read the next book already!" --Kata, NetGalley Reviewer

"I love the dystopian genre, and a lot of the problem I run into is a lot of them are boring and follow the same storyline. This one is so different it's amazing. I cannot recommend this enough. It's sci-fi, it's dystopian, and it fresh. A definite must read that I plan on reading again!" --Liliyana S., NetGalley Reviewer

“Both sisters are strong female characters who are good role models for young girls. This story is filled with suspense and adventure with a taste of the gaming world. It is the first LITRPG book that I have read and I really enjoyed it." --Teresa O, Educator

"This book was amazing! The story line, along with the development of the characters was phenomenal. This book is very well paced, and easy to follow. Seeing the story play out for the characters, along with the lessons you gain from reading this book, makes it one of my new favorites. For, this book is more than just another dystopia novel. It's basis is on family love, and what you'd do to keep them safe. It's a young adult novel, yet is appropriate for anyone above the age of 10. I would highly suggest reading this book ASAP. You won't regret it!"--Almaz D, Reviewer



Want to learn more about The Revelation Chronicles? Click HERE for updates on this and the other series by Chris. Watch the video on YouTube.

4eee6-chris2bpavesic2bauthor2bphotoChris Pavesic is a fantasy author who lives in the Midwestern United States and loves Kona coffee, steampunk, fairy tales, and all types of speculative fiction. Between writing projects, Chris can most often be found reading, gaming, gardening, working on an endless list of DIY household projects, or hanging out with friends.

Learn more about Chris on her website and blog.

Stay connected on Facebook, Twitter, and her Amazon Author Page.

Monday, August 27, 2018

BANTHA POO DOO

by Elliott Baker

Continuing with one of the themes in The Sun God’s Heir trilogy, power continues to fascinate me. So many questions. If we have so much of it, and we do if we measure it in total rather than by each, why aren’t we (again I’m exploring a gross generalization) happier. In this global we, I include the fabulously wealthy among us as well as the power mongers and dictators. What is power? There are a couple of definitions, but I’ll use this one:

the capacity or ability to direct or influence the behavior of others or the course of events.

An easy answer would be survival. In the good old Cro-Magnon days, a single human even armed, was not very high up on the actuarial scale. Two or more was the imperative. I imagine the big question was “Do we fight or run,” with the Super Bowl ring going to the winning answer. With two people, you might have two answers. With three, depending on their ethnicity, who knows how many. I’m being very positive here. Remember as a believer in reincarnation, I’m pretty sure I’ve had the opportunity to make mistakes in many of the various tribes we’ve separated into. So here’s where consensus makes its first appearance. Did those early humans use logic. Probably not. Might definitely made right but might still had to pound people into consensus and when might (power) was light on the intelligence side, and became Bantha poo doo, a new might became the consensus maker.

So influencing the behavior of others is a survival trait. A survival trait that evolves based on success. Somebody thought of that one. What’s his name, oh yes, Darwin. So does the accrual of power as a positive evolutionary trait continue forever, or does it reach a place where something different than the ability to influence others passes it in evolutionary power. Is there a location on the power graph where more power becomes less useful toward specific outcome. In this case happiness. By the way, happiness is totally in the eye of the beholder. Depending on the mental, emotional, and psychopathic setup of the individual, I’m certain that happiness is widely different. Since I’m exploring power, I’ll leave the definitions of why employ it once physical survival is assured, for later.

Power is the application of energy. The accumulation of energy is required. I will define energy as anything that causes movement. I may dabble in layman’s quantum explanations and ask forgiveness up front. Just consider this an exercise in science fiction. Here’s my premise:

Power as a means to affect an end grows inversely proportional at a certain point on the continuum when every other downstream vibration of its use is not or cannot be taken into consideration. In English; unless you know where every vibration of the rock you throw into the pond is going, you can’t know if throwing that rock will help you or hinder you.

The protagonist and antagonist in The Sun God’s Heir: Return were brothers and disciples of an enlightened pharaoh. The power that each can potentially wield is orders of magnitude above that of their fellow men. True power begins to seek the consensus of the universe before throwing the stone into the pond. It is the path of connecting with that consensus that really jump starts evolution.

In The Sun God’s Heir: Return, one character forces his way back into embodiment while the other has incarnated naturally. One remembers the power gained in an earlier incarnation, the other must remember in order to have a chance at defending himself and those he loves. Fortunately this journey takes place in the latter part of the 17th century, a time of pirates, of exploration, and great change. If you were good with a rapier, not a bad time to be alive. If you could wield the powers of earth, water, air, and fire, and if you were the only one, well, the possibilities for acquiring power, the ability to direct or influence others, was unlimited. Unless it wasn’t.

Here is a little from the book I've been talking about.

For three thousand years a hatred burns. In seventeenth century France two souls incarnate, one born the child of a prosperous merchant, the other, determined to continue an incarnation begun long ago.

In ancient Egypt, there were two brothers, disciples of the pharaoh, Akhenaten. When the pharaoh died, the physician took the knowledge given and went to Greece to begin the mystery school. The general made a deal with the priests and became pharaoh. One remembers, one does not.

The year is 1671. René Gilbert’s destiny glints from the blade of a slashing rapier. The only way he can protect those he loves is to regain the power and knowledge of an ancient lifetime. From Bordeaux to Spain to Morocco, René is tested and with each turn of fate he gathers enemies and allies, slowly reclaiming the knowledge and power earned centuries ago. For three thousand years a secret sect has waited in Morocco.

After ages in darkness, Horemheb screams, “I am.” Using every dark art, he manages to maintain the life of the body he has bartered for. Only one life force in the world is powerful enough to allow him to remain within embodiment, perhaps forever. Determined to continue a reign of terror that once made the Nile run red, he grows stronger with each life taken.

Bordeaux, France

Three men bled out into the dirt.

René stared at the hand that held the bloody rapier. His hand. Tremors shuddered through his body and down his arm. Droplets of blood sprayed the air and joined the carmine puddles that seeped into the sun-baked earth. He closed his eyes and commanded the muscles that grasped the rapier to release their tension and allow the sword to drop.
Years of daily practice and pain refused his mind’s order much as they had refused to spare the lives of three men. The heady exultation that filled him during the seconds of the fight drained away and left him empty, a vessel devoid of meaning. He staggered toward an old oak and leaned against its rough bark. Bent over, with one hand braced on the tree, he retched. And again. Still, the sword remained in his hand.

A cloud shuttered the sun. Distant thunder brushed his awareness and then faded. Rain. The mundane thought coasted through his mind. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and glanced down hoping to see a different tableau. No, death remained death, the only movement, that of flies attracted to a new ocean of sustenance.

The summer heat lifted the acrid blood-rust smell and forced him to turn his head away. Before him stretched a different world from the one in which he had awakened. No compass points. No maps. No tomorrow.

The Maestro.

The mere thought of his fencing master filled him with both reassurance and dread. René slid the rapier into the one place his training permitted, its scabbard. He walked over to where the huge black stallion stamped his impatience, and pulled himself into the saddle.
Some impulse caused him to turn his head one last time. The sunlight that surrounded the men flickered like a candle in the wind, and the air was filled with a loud buzzing sound. Although still posed in identical postures of death, three different men now stared sightless.

Their skin was darker than the leather tanned sailors. Each wore a short linen kilt of some kind that left their upper bodies naked. As strange as the men appeared, their weapons were what drew René’s eye. The swords were archaic; sickle shaped and appeared to be forged of bronze. These men wore different faces and yet their eyes—somehow he knew they were the same sailors he had just killed. René blinked and there before him the original three men lay unmoved. Dead.

For an instant his mind balked, darkness encircled the edges of his vision.

Do not anticipate meaning. The Maestro’s voice echoed in his head. Meaning may be ignored, but it cannot be hurried.

The darkness receded, and he reined the stallion’s head toward home.

René approached the linden shaded lane to the château. The stately trees, their clasped hands steepled over the gravel drive, had always welcomed him. Now they were just a faded backdrop that moved past the corners of his eyes. Could it have been only hours ago that the anniversary of his sixteenth year had presented itself like a gaily wrapped gift waiting for his excited appreciation? The day had dawned as grand as any he had yet experienced, and he had awakened early, eager for the morning’s light.

“Henri,” he yelled, as he charged down the marble staircase and into the dining room. Breakfast was set and steaming on the polished mahogany table. Burnished silver platters and cream colored porcelain bowls held a variety of eggs, sausages, fruits, and breads. How Henri always seemed to anticipate his entry amazed René.

Oui, Master René.” Serene as always, the middle-aged major domo entered the dining room. Henri walked over to the table and poured a cup of tea for René. “ S’il vous plaît, be seated, sir.”

“I cannot. Maybe a roll and a link of sausage. Henri, do you know what today is?”

Henri paused as if deep in thought. “Thursday. Oui, I am quite sure ’tis Thursday.”

René took a still sizzling sausage from a tray and did his best to fold it within a baguette.

Non, ’tis my birth date,” he managed around a mouthful of sausage and roll.

“Which one is that, sir?”

“How do you not know? You were there.”

“Well, I remember ’twas after the end of the war. Let me see. The war was over in…”

“Very droll, Henri. Your memory works fine, ’tis your humor that leaves room for improvement. Today is... so... I cannot explain, it feels like anything is possible today.”

“Given that there is still plenty of day left, perhaps you might sit down and eat. I expect you will need all your strength for a day so filled with possibility.”

“I cannot be late.” René gulped his tea and shoved the rest of the roll and sausage into his mouth.

“Happy anniversary, Master René.”

Merci, Henri.” René checked his appearance in one of the grand foyer mirrors, and then strode toward the courtyard. The time had come to present himself to the Maestro.

René vibrated with excitement. He paused just inside the entrance to the training area. This was no way to face the Maestro. He sucked in a deep breath, exhaled, and reached for that quiet center. The torrent of chaotic thought stilled and that unique calm of intense focus settled around him. His friends Marc and Anatole sported their weapons in public. René had yet to earn that privilege. Disarming the Maestro was the only way, and since that possibility seemed as remote as the ability to fly, it generated a great deal of frustration.

Today, however, might be the day.

Buy Links


Award winning, international playwright Elliott B. Baker grew up in Jacksonville, Florida. With four musicals and one play published and done throughout the United States, New Zealand, Portugal, England, and Canada, Elliott is pleased to offer his first novel, Return, book one of The Sun God’s Heir trilogy.

A member of the Authors Guild and the Dramatists Guild, Elliott lives in New Hampshire with his beautiful wife Sally Ann.

Learn more about Elliot Baker on his website. Stay connected on Twitter and Facebook. Like Elliott's Author Page on Facebook to learn all his latest news.

Friday, August 24, 2018

HELEN HARDT with Two HOT New Releases





Blood Bond Saga #1 & #2

by Helen Hardt

Release date: 21st August

#BloodBondSaga #HelenHardt #Waterhouse

Add to your TBR

Blood Bond #1


Vampire Dante Gabriel is starving. What he craves is red gold—human blood. After being held captive as a blood slave to a female vampire for years, he has finally escaped. Unchained at last, he follows his nose to the nearest blood bank to sate his hunger.

ER nurse Erin Hamilton expects just another busy night shift…until she finds a gorgeous stranger vandalizing the hospital blood bank. Though her logic tells her to turn him in, she’s pulled by stronger and unfamiliar emotions to protect the man who seems oddly infatuated with her scent. Chemistry sizzles between them, but Dante, plagued by nightmares of his time in captivity, fears he won’t be able to control himself…especially when he discovers a secret she doesn’t even know she’s hiding.


Download Part 1 Today: 

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2qthlVm
Nook: http://bit.ly/2qsEsQ1
iBooks: https://apple.co/2GYT1BU
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2JGQyxE
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2v71EbT
Add on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/GR_BloodBondSaga1



Blood Bond #2


Dante Gabriel is angry. Someone has violated the woman whose scent has left him emotionally paralyzed, and he’s become unhinged. He vows to protect Erin Hamilton—mostly from himself.

Erin has other ideas. She’s determined to figure out the strange man who keeps leaving her aroused and unsatisfied. When she pushes Dante for answers, he goes looking for them himself. What he uncovers could put Erin in mortal danger, with him as her only salvation.

Download Part 2 Today:

Amazon: https://amzn.to/2JGdNHY
Nook: http://bit.ly/2GVYAku
iBooks: https://apple.co/2HB3K6k
Google Play: http://bit.ly/2IMUSdk
Kobo: http://bit.ly/2GYIbeQ
Add on Goodreads: http://bit.ly/GR_BloodBondSaga2

Meet The Author

#1 New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Helen Hardt’s passion for the written word began with the books her mother read to her at bedtime. She wrote her first story at age six and hasn’t stopped since. In addition to being an award winning author of contemporary and historical romance and erotica, she’s a mother, a black belt in Taekwondo, a grammar geek, an appreciator of fine red wine, and a lover of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. She writes from her home in Colorado, where she lives with her family. Helen loves to hear from readers.




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Buy Links for all Helen's Books: http://www.helenhardt.com/book/


Join the official street team for Helen

Wednesday, August 22, 2018

MAKE SUNDAY MORNING SPECIAL

with this delicious and easy make-ahead meal. Serve with mini croissants or French bread, butter and jelly. Hash browns and fruit salad are nice accompaniments. Mimosas are a lovely drink to top off your breakfast/brunch.

Breakfast Soufflé
1 pound ham, bacon, or breakfast sausage
9 eggs, lightly beaten
3 cups milk
1 tsp. dry mustard
Diced green, red, and/or yellow pepper to taste
4 – 1 inch slices Vienna or French bread, cubed
½ pound sharp cheddar cheese, grated
½ pound Swiss or Gruyere cheese, or a combination of the two grated
Diced onion to taste
Freshly ground black pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Dice the ham or bacon. If you use ham, set aside in the bowl you choose for the eggs. Fry bacon to the crispness you prefer. If you use breakfast sausage, fry the meat until no longer pink. Be sure to break up any clumps. Drain the meat in a colander while you continue to prepare the soufflé.

Add all ingredients, but the bread, to the eggs. Stir well.

Stir in bread.

Pour mixture into an ungreased 9x13 inch glass dish. Bake for 1 hour or until a knife inserted in the center has no egg cling to it.

This dish can be assembled a one or two days ahead of time. Allow the soufflé to sit on your counter 1 – 2 hours before you bake it.

Leftovers are excellent from the microwave.

May you enjoy all the days of your life around a well laden table!

Sloane Taylor
Twitter
Amazon Author Page

Monday, August 20, 2018

GARDENING TIPS

by Emma Lane

Gardens grow of their own volition. You labor with the lay out and lovingly place the plants. By the third year, your garden has selected what it will and will not accept. But it’s gorgeous, healthy and you wouldn’t change a single thing. (Okay, maybe you’ll move that fragrant dianthus in front of that balloon flower which is taller.) Some of it is your fault because you couldn’t resist that church sale and your neighbor shared several perennials. Status normal. Allow your garden nostalgia. You show it off by saying, “I got that one for next to nothing on sale, Susan Smith gave me that one when she moved to Florida, I miss her so! My mother-in-law finally broke down and shared that rose. Would you believe how she can make cuttings and root them?” This iris came from … and that one came from…

SEASONAL: Do plan spring shrubs/bulbs which are so welcome. Fall red/yellow leaves.

INVASIVE: When someone mentions the plant is invasive, believe it! I love the golden blooms of Rudbeckia Goldstrum, but it will take over if given the chance. Plant it way over there where you can mow it if need be; same with any sort of mint.

PARTNERSHIPS: Delphenium back up to fences almost poetically, a partnership. Peonies are almost small bushes. I love to make a back ground hedge row from them. Yellow coreopsis and red yarrow are made in heaven for hot colors.

FRIENDSHIP: The deer, rabbits, groundhog, the neighbor’s pets, etc have destroyed some of your hard work? This is your opportunity to share and discover new friends. What better way to become acquainted? You’ll learn to laugh and maybe learn new gardening secrets while you commiserate.

Now that your garden is all you want it to be, take a good book and relax in all that beauty. May I suggest one of my Regency releases?

Can an arrogant duke overcome his prejudice against a beautiful but managing female in time to find true love and happiness?

Miss Amabel Hawkins acknowledges her unusual upbringing, but she thinks James Langley, the Duke of Westerton, might be a tad unbalanced when he protests her efforts to right his badly managed properties. The duke, who has been away on the king's business, demonstrates no respect for the beautiful but managing Miss Hawkins. Amabel has taken refuge at Westerton, fleeing from a forced marriage to a man who claims to be her relative in order to gain control of her young brother's estate.

The Duke arrives home to find his estate under the firm control of a beautiful but managing female. His suspicions are fueled by his recent task of spy-hunting and he wonders if Amabel Hawkins is just who she seems. While a dastardly spy lurks, a wicked man poses as her cousin threatening to take over the guardianship of her young brother. Amabel might be falling in love, but she knows for certain the duke would never approve of a meddlesome woman, and she decides to flee his estate. Will the duke finally realize the true value of the woman he loves or will his prejudice ruin his chances forever?

EXCERPT
Fatigue and the effects of the brandy on top of the ale now gave his gait a distinct wobble. He chuckled, amused at his condition.

As he reached for the portrait of great Uncle Barney, he lurched into the back of the red leather sofa in front of the cosy fire. “Deuce take it,” he exclaimed when a rounded arm rolled into view. He spotted the gentle curve of a hip and walked around to the front, where he spied a tumbled haze of dark curls hiding a face. It is indeed a female—a sleeping female.

Who was she? The gown was too rich for his household staff. Curious, he knelt beside the sofa.
“Only one way to find out,” he whispered and moved one dark curl. He sat back, satisfied when a handsome face swam into view. She sighed and rolled over, revealing a generous figure and a pair of rosy lips. She might be Sleeping Beauty—but not one of my relatives. He leaned over and kissed those tempting lips.

As he lingered there, she sighed and came partially awake. He could not resist. He deepened the kiss and sounds of satisfaction like yum and umm came from those delicious lips. Her hand stroked his face, then reached around his head to pull him closer. Delighted with this turn of events, the Duke of Westerton complied enthusiastically and extended an arm around a slender waist. How much of the ale and brandy had he imbibed? Dizziness overcame his senses as he slid down on the floor and knew no more.


Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes under several pen-names. She lives with her patient husband on several acres outside a typical American village in Western New York. Her day job is working with flowers at her son’s plant nursery. Look for information about writing and plants on her new website. Leave a comment or a gardening question and put a smile on Emma's face.

Stay connected to Emma on Facebook and Twitter.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Who Doesn’t Love Crunchie® Bars?

by Sharon Ledwith

Those were my go-to chocolate bars when I was a kid, and I still love’em to this day. This angelic chocolate covered sponge toffee recipe will bring back memories of the good old days when a trip to the corner store armed only with a dollar bought more than just one candy bar. Create a batch for gifts or to add to the festivities, these melt-in-your-mouth treats will add life to any party.

CHOCOLATE COVERED SPONGE TOFFEE
1 cup white sugar
1 cup dark corn syrup
1 tbsp. vinegar
1 tbsp. baking soda
1 pound chocolate confectioner’s coating
Candy thermometer

Butter a 9x13 inch baking pan.

In a medium saucepan, over medium heat, combine sugar, corn syrup, and vinegar. Cook, stirring until sugar dissolves.

Set candy thermometer in place, and heat, without stirring until temperature reaches 300° F (150° C).

Remove from heat and stir in baking soda.

Pour into prepared pan. Do not spread. Allow to cool completely.

In the microwave (or over a double boiler) melt coating chocolate, stirring frequently until smooth.

Break cooled sponge toffee into bite sized pieces and dip into melted chocolate coating.

Place on waxed paper until the chocolate is set. Store in tightly covered container. Make sure to hide some pieces for yourself!

Every cook must taste test their finished product. Sit back, munch away, and take a glimpse at my latest novel.

Fairy Falls was bores-ville from the get-go. Then the animals started talking...

The Fairy Falls Animal Shelter is in trouble. Money trouble. It’s up to an old calico cat named Whiskey—a shelter cat who has mastered the skill of observation—to find a new human pack leader so that their home will be saved. With the help of Nobel, the leader of the shelter dogs, the animals set out to use the ancient skill of telepathy to contact any human who bothers to listen to them. Unfortunately for fifteen-year-old Meagan Walsh, she hears them, loud and clear.

Forced to live with her Aunt Izzy in the safe and quiet town of Fairy Falls, Meagan is caught stealing and is sentenced to do community hours at the animal shelter where her aunt works. Realizing Meagan can hear her, Whiskey realizes that Meagan just might have the pack leader qualities necessary to save the animals. Avoiding Whiskey and the rest of shelter animals becomes impossible for Meagan, so she finally gives in and promises to help them. Meagan, along with her newfound friends, Reid Robertson and Natalie Knight, discover that someone in Fairy Falls is not only out to destroy the shelter, but the animals as well. Can Meagan convince her aunt and co-workers that the animals are in danger? If she fails, then all the animals’ voices will be silenced forever.

BUY LINKS



Sharon Ledwith is the author of the middle-grade/YA time travel series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, and the teen psychic mystery series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, researching, or revising, she enjoys reading, exercising, anything arcane, and an occasional dram of scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a southern tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her hubby, one spoiled yellow Labrador and a moody calico cat.

Learn more about Sharon Ledwith on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter, Google+, Goodreads, and Smashwords. Look up her Amazon Author page for a list of current books. Be sure to check out THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS TIME TRAVEL SERIES Facebook page.

Monday, August 13, 2018

A DIFFERENT VIEWPOINT

by Anne Montgomery

Twenty years into my officiating career, my superiors finally relented and allowed me and my peers to wear sunglasses in the field, but, by then, my eyes were already damaged.

“You’re blood pressure is a little high,” the nurse said.

I smiled. “Could it be that you’re about to stick sharp objects in my eyeball while I’m awake?”

My flippant answer belied the fact that I was certainly nervous, since the surgeon would soon be probing the inner recesses of my eye which a scalpel, a tiny ultrasound wand, and an itty-bitty vacuum cleaner. That I had waited patiently for my insurance company to cover the surgery for years did not make me feel any better as they wheeled me into the operating room.

My vision had been deteriorating for a decade. I can now hear those coaches who have complained about my officiating screaming in unison: “We always knew she was blind!” Admittedly, while I could certainly see all those behemoths holding on the line and the players who felt it necessary to dump a defenseless quarterback on his butt for no reason, I did sometimes lose sight of the ball in the hazy glow of the stadium lights. Don’t ask about baseballs. I tried to always work the plate, because, in the field, those flying projectiles would periodically fade and, more times than I’d like to recall, I ended up with a bruise, replete with seams. Off the field, nighttime driving became difficult: headlights in the dark were punctuated by colorful sparks shooting in all directions.

According to the National Eye Institute, a cataract is a clouding of the lens in the eye that affects vision. By age eighty, more than half of all Americans either have a cataract or have had cataract surgery. While my parents did not undergo the operation until they were in their eighties, my turn came at the tender age of 59.

What caused me to begin losing my vision at a relatively young age? Officiating. It was once believed that sports officials should never wear sunglasses, an effort to cut down on the above mentioned, “Geez, ump, you blind?” quips.

Today, especially here in the Arizona desert, the idea seems ridiculous. Then again, you may recall coaches used to think it was a good idea to deny players water during practice. Thankfully, philosophies have changed. Sports officials now often wear sunglasses, but those years without eye protection took their toll.

While cataracts can result from certain health issues like diabetes and from tobacco and alcohol use – I’m hoping Chardonnay doesn’t count here – prolonged exposure to sunlight is definitely a cause. I probably spent the first twenty years of my officiating career squinting in the sun. And, since my eyes are a light blue, I was the poster child for cataracts.

As it turned out, the surgery was a breeze: quick and painless. As a bonus, while the surgeon was mucking about in my eye, I was treated to a color show reminiscent of an Impressionist painting. The drops used to dilate your pupil are heavy-duty and last twenty-four hours, so driving is out. After that, there’s only a little scratchiness and a regime of drops for about two weeks.

There are a few shocks when your vision adjusts. There’s a depth to objects that had been missing, the loss of which was so gradual I didn’t know it was gone until I stood before my rock box. I’m a mineral collector. Hundreds of specimens I’ve gathered since I was a child rest in a pine and glass case in my living room. Each night before going to bed, I look at the rocks. My friends know to be wary when asking about the specimens, since – given the right amount of wine – I am apt to tell you long stories about where and when I got them, whether you want to know or not. The night after my surgery, I approached the box to take my nightly look and turn off the lights. Colors leaped out, richer than I’d seen in years. Crystal facets glittered. It was like meeting old friends after a long separation.

However, my new peppers have also prominently displayed a few things I’d, quite frankly, rather not have seen. My house is not quite the paragon of cleanliness I’d always imagined. Dust bunnies and not-so-immaculate tile floors accuse me of shirking my domestic responsibilities. But the biggest surprise came when I looked in the mirror. When did all those wrinkles appear? Like an aging on-camera news anchor shot through a gauzy filter, I’d been seeing myself through a similarly cloudy lens for years.

And here I thought I’d been aging so gracefully.

And now a peek into my latest novel for your reading pleasure.

Two Arizona teens find their fates intertwined. Are there any adults they can trust? Can they even trust each other?

Rose Madsen will do anything to keep from being married off to one of the men in her Fundamentalist Mormon (FLDS) community, even endure the continued beatings and abuse of her mother. But when her mentally handicapped baby sister is forced to strangle the bird she loves at the behest of the Prophet, Rose frees the bird and runs away.

Adan Reyes will do anything to escape the abusive foster care system in Phoenix, even leaving his good friends and successful high school athletic career behind him. Ill-prepared for surviving the desert, Adan hits the road only to suffer heat stroke. Found by a local handyman, he catches a glimpse of a mysterious girl—Rose—running through town, and follows her into the mountains where they are both tracked and discovered by the men of the FLDS community.

With their fates now intertwined, can Rose and Adan escape the systems locking them into lives of abuse? Will Rose be forced to marry the Prophet, a man her father's age, and be one of dozens of wives, perpetually pregnant, with no hope for an education? Will Adan be returned to the foster home where bullying and cruelty are common? Is everyone they meet determined to keep them right where they belong or are some adults worthy of their trust?

BUY LINKS

Anne Montgomery has worked as a television sportscaster, newspaper and magazine writer, teacher, amateur baseball umpire, and high school football referee. She worked at WRBL‐TV in Columbus, Georgia, WROC‐TV in Rochester, New York, KTSP‐TV in Phoenix, Arizona, ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut, where she anchored the Emmy and ACE award‐winning SportsCenter, and ASPN-TV as the studio host for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Montgomery has been a freelance and staff writer for six publications, writing sports, features, movie reviews, and archeological pieces.

When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.

Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.

Wednesday, August 08, 2018

DINNER IS SERVED

from Lizzie T. Leaf

I've used sesame chicken sauce often on poultry and one day I decided to give it a try on fresh salmon. End result was yummy. I hope you think so, too.

Photo Courtesy of Robson Melo Pixabay

SALMON
1 lb. salmon filet with bottom skin
1 small onion, sliced thin
½ to ¾ cup of sesame chicken sauce

Be sure to check for pin bones on the fish. If you find some use tweezers for best results.

Place salmon in a plastic bag with sliced onions. Pour sauce over and massage to work sauce over the salmon and onions.

Marinade in refrigerator at least 2-3 hours (or night before if you work). Occasionally turn so sauce contacts all of the fish. If you refrigerated the night before then turn the bag in the morning before you leave.

Preheat oven to 400° F.

Place salmon skin side down in an oiled skillet. Lay onions on top.

Bake 20 minutes or until fish flakes.

ROASTED SWEET POTATOES
1 sweet potato per person
Olive oil
Salt, optional

Preheat oven to 400°F.

Peel and cut potatoes into chunks. Place potatoes in an ovenproof dish.

Add oil and salt. Toss to coat well.

Roast approximately 30 minutes or until fork tender.

STIR-FRY GREEN BEANS
½ bag frozen shoestring green beans
1 tbsp. olive oil
Pinch cayenne pepper
Pinch salt, optional

Heat frying pan on medium-high. Carefully add oil.

Scatter beans into hot pan. Stir for 4 minutes.

Add cayenne pepper, according to your spice preference, and salt. Stir 1 minute and serve.

Here is a little from my latest spicy romantic release for your reading pleasure.

Following the Powers directive to unite soul mates, a Scottish Cailleach's magic will have repercussions in several realms.

Mixed-blood author Ian McCabe, grandson of Fae and gods, tries to deny his powers while hiding his true origins from the human world. When he discovers mortal, Emma Grant unconscious at his front door, his world starts to change.

Tour director Emma Grant leads a group of senior ladies through Scotland. The breakdown of their bus on a rural Scottish backroad has her sloshing through the rain and mud on foot. Her efforts to seek help results in a fall that knocks her unconscious. She awakens to find the man of her dreams staring into her eyes.

Both feel an instant attraction, but will his secrets and her distrust of men keep them apart.

A few lines that tweak a grin.
Yep, at this rate, a long three weeks lay ahead. No one had told Emma that the dozen school teachers ranged in ages from sixty-nine to eighty-eight. Good grief, what happened to women at this age sitting on the front porch and enjoying their rocking chairs?

Mildred waved away the correction “Of course, dear. Whatever you say. I just want to know, will we see any men in kilts soon? I want to see what they wear under them.”

Dirty old woman. She asked that question at least half a dozen times before we got on the bus and stated the reason just as often.

Read the first chapter on Amazon.

To read excerpts from other books by Lizzie T. Leaf please click onto Amazon.




Lizzie T. Leaf has loved books since she opened her first one. Her dream was to write them herself. Lost in the hectic day to day world of family, job, laundry and housework, writing became a distant memory. When the twinkling ember did spark, it was usually doused by someone demanding their share of her time.

Lizzie's life went full circle. The desire to put the stories that continued to play in her head on paper emerged stronger than ever, and at a time when there was someone who encouraged. Now she lives her dream.

Learn more about Lizzie T. Leaf on her website and blog. Connect with Lizzie on Facebook and follow her on Twitter.

Monday, August 06, 2018

HOW DO YOU SAY THAT?

Are Your Characters’ Names Easy to Pronounce?

from Carol Browne

Here is a bit of good advice for fiction authors I wish someone had given to me when I first started writing: make it obvious how your characters’ names are pronounced.

There’s nothing more frustrating to a reader than having to follow a character throughout a book without knowing how to pronounce their name. These days, the popularity of audio books makes this an even more contentious issue—as I recently discovered.

Yes, I’m one of those writers guilty as charged. When I chose the name ‘Elgiva’ for the protagonist of my book The Exile of Elindel, I didn’t foresee the problems I would encounter down the line. I was an inexperienced young wordsmith who thought the meaning of the name—elf gift—sufficient justification for using it. I pronounced it in my mind precisely as it was written. Such a simple name, I thought. What could go wrong?

Many years later, I realise there are more ways to pronounce ‘Elgiva’ than I could have imagined; at least six! Which syllable should be stressed? Is it a hard ‘g’? It’s an Anglo-Saxon name and so it should be a soft ‘g’, although even that is open to question by some Anglo-Saxon scholars.

The issue of pronunciation might never have been addressed had it not been for the fact that I recently had to audition voice-over actors for the audio version of the book. The actors spoke the name in a completely different way from my own version so that it rhymed with ‘Godiva’. I consulted my fan base and ended up with two more ways to say the name, neither of which resembled mine or that of the voice-over actors.

It was decision time! I was forced to settle on the pronunciation I thought was the most accurate. Although it wasn’t the one I originally intended, it was closer to the Anglo-Saxon pronunciation with a soft ‘g’ and the stress on the first syllable.

Oddly enough, this makes the name sound even more elvish. But I have to keep reminding myself how to say it, after four decades of saying it my own way. The way I remember it is that the first syllable is the only stressed one and the ‘gi’ is pronounced as it is in ‘magical’. So Elgiva is magical. And, of course, she is!

How about curling up with my epic fantasy while you contemplate the possibility of elves and all the ways to say their names?

Elgiva, a young elf banished from Elvendom, must seek shelter among the Saxons as her only hope of surviving the coming winter.

Godwin, a Briton enslaved by the Saxons, is a man ignorant of his own inheritance and the secret of power he possesses.

A mysterious enemy, who will stop at nothing to wield absolute power over Elvendom, is about to make his move.

When destiny throws Elgiva and Godwin together, they embark upon the quest for the legendary Lorestone, the only thing that can save Elvendom from the evil that threatens to destroy it.

There is help to be found along the way from a petulant pony and a timid elf boy but, as the strength of their adversary grows, can Elgiva’s friends help her to find the Lorestone before it falls into the wrong hands?

EXCERPT
The night was waning when Elgiva woke, wondering where she was. The dark ceiling of Joskin’s cave hung above her, and everything had a reddish glow, cast by the embers of the fire. She slid from under the fur coverlet, her skin tightening at the loss of its warmth, and searched for her leather sandals.

Something had woken her, something that waited outside the cave. A runnel of dread ran down her spine.

She had an inexplicable sense of impending danger, but it was too insistent to ignore. An unnamed instinct stopped her from alerting her companions. She must face this menace alone.

She left the cave as quietly as she could. Her heart pounded in her throat as she peered between the rowan trees and searched the night. Whatever had awakened her, it beckoned. She held her breath and listened, but her ears detected nothing, save for a silence as dark and empty as an abandoned crypt.

It would soon be daybreak, but the sun had yet to rise, and the dark beyond the cave swarmed with potential horrors. She stepped out from among the rowans, relying on her acute senses to make out her surroundings. An unnatural calm gripped the night and as her sandals whispered against the cold grass, they sounded abnormally loud. She feared they would betray her presence.

After a while, she came to a stop and searched the trees. Thin strands of mist curled along the ground, cold and clammy, like an exhalation of sickness.

She hugged her shoulders, knotted her fingers in the cascade of her hair, and shivered in her ragged robe. All around her, the silence seemed to be drawing into focus.

“Who is it?” Her throat was too dry for her purpose. She swallowed and licked her lips. “Who’s there? I know you’re there. I can . . . I can feel you!”

Feel you.

A flash of silver sliced through the dark, and Elgiva gasped in fear. Her arms came up to shield her face as the beam struck a rock several yards ahead. It exploded with a whoosh and sent up thousands of splinters of light, which fell to the ground and sizzled in the mist.

A shape now stood upon the rock, its form concealed in a black, hooded cloak.

Elgiva clutched the amulet to her breast. Her hands were white with terror. “In the name of Faine, who are you? What sort of trick is this?”

A soft, sly voice spoke back to her. “Why should you fear magic?”

“What do you want?” she pleaded, her voice a croak of fear.

“To see for myself.”

“To see what?”

The dark shape sniggered, but made no answer. Instead, it swept its cloak aside, and a cloud of sparks flew out and covered the ground with beads of light.

Elgiva stepped back unsteadily, resolved to flee.

“Stay!” commanded the creature.

It raised a skeletal hand, and the forefinger swung towards Elgiva and pinned her against the darkness, holding her like a rivet of bone. No elf, no wilthkin, ever owned such a hand. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. This had to be a nightmare; she was still asleep in the cave. But no, it was all too real.

“Who are you? What do you want?” she cried. “I have . . . I have an amulet!”

The creature laughed derisively. “I am Death, and I have come for you.”

It began to radiate a sickly green light, enveloping itself in a caul of brilliance that pulsated with force. The light grew in size until the trees behind it were bathed in its angry glare. It reached for Elgiva, like a foul stench creeping along a breeze, and she was helpless. The creature’s power throbbed in the darkness.

Within the taut coils of her fear, her instincts screamed at her to run, but her limbs had turned to stone.

Siriol, Siriol, help me . . . help . . .

With a shriek of glee, the creature increased the throb of its power. Elgiva’s mind was suddenly invaded by an inexplicable force. She became divorced from herself and watched from a great distance, waiting for the horror to unfold.



Born in Stafford in the UK, Carol Browne was raised in Crewe, Cheshire, which she thinks of as her home town. Interested in reading and writing at an early age, Carol pursued her passions at Nottingham University and was awarded an honours degree in English Language and Literature. Now living and working in the Cambridgeshire countryside, Carol usually writes fiction and is a contracted author at Burning Willow Press. Her non-fiction book is available at Dilliebooks.

Stay connected with Carol on her website and blog, Facebook, and Twitter.

Wednesday, August 01, 2018

ANY TIME TREATS

from C.D. Hersh

A family friend provided us with this candy recipe and we have taken great pleasure in making and sharing it ever since. If you're an Ohioan then this chocolate delight is called BUCKEYES. Otherwise it is

PEANUT BUTTER BALLS
2 cups peanut butter
1 lb. margarine at room temperature
2 tsp. vanilla
2½ to 3 lbs. powdered sugar
Popsicle sticks, optional

Mix peanut butter, margarine, and vanilla together.

Add powdered sugar. Mix well. Form into balls. Insert sticks if you chose to use them.

Chill in refrigerator for at least 1 hour.

COATING

6 oz. semi-sweet chocolate bits
3 tbsp. paraffin (grated)
Decorative candies/sprinkles, optional

Melt chocolate and paraffin in a double boiler. You may need more chocolate mixture to coat the balls than this recipe calls for.

Dip balls in chocolate and then candies/sprinkles. Place on waxed paper and allow to cool thoroughly.

Nibble on your new found treat while you take a peek at our paranormal series, The Turning Stone Chronicles.


Three ancient Celtic families. A magical Bloodstone that enables the wearers to shape shift. A charge to use the stone’s power to benefit mankind, and a battle, that is going on even today, to control the world. Can the Secret Society of shape shifters called the Turning Stone Society heal itself and bring peace to our world? Find out in the series The Turning Stone Chronicles.

The Promised One, book one:
When homicide detective Alexi Jordan is forced to use her shape shifting powers to catch a paranormal killer, she risks the two most important things in her life—her badge and the man she loves.

Blood Brothers, book two:
Shape shifter Delaney Ramsey’s daughter is missing, and she is bound by honor to protect the man she suspects of the deed. To bring him to justice, she must go against her code, the leader of the secret shifter society, and the police captain she is falling for.

Son of the Moonless Night, book three:
Thrust back into the world of paranormal huntress, Deputy Coroner Katrina Romanovski must unravel a string of murders she believes are vampire attacks. When she discovers the shape shifter she’s in love with is the murderer, she must reconcile her feelings for him, examine her life of violence against paranormals, and justify deceiving him in order to bring him to justice.

The Mercenary and the Shifters, book four:
A desperate call from an ex-military buddy lands a mercenary soldier in the middle of a double kidnapping, caught in an ancient shape shifter war, and ensnared between two female shape shifters after the same thing ... him.

C.D. Hersh–Two hearts creating everlasting love stories.

Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They’ve written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after.

The books of their paranormal romance series entitled The Turning Stone Chronicles are available on Amazon. They also have a short Christmas story, Kissing Santa, in a Christmas anthology titled Sizzle in the Snow: Soul Mate Christmas Collection, with seven other authors. Also a standalone novella, Can’t Stop The Music, in a collection with thirteen other authors. 

They look forward to many years of co-authoring and book sales, and a lifetime of happily-ever-after endings on the page and in real life.

Learn more about C.D. Hersh on their website and their Amazon Author Page.

Stay connected on Facebook, Twitter, and Goodreads.