from the “C” of C.D. Hersh
I (Catherine) have recently discovered avocado puddings. Never heard of them? Apparently, they are full of good fats, loads of fiber, have a low glycemic index (which is important for those watching their carbs, and they can be made without dairy products, if you are vegan or lactose intolerant). They have the creaminess of instant puddings without the unnatural ingredients that comes in that box. The extra bonus of avocado puddings--they taste good. The kiddos will never know they are eating something good for them. So far, I’ve experimented with chocolate, which was super chocolatey and not as sweet as it could have been since I skipped a lot of the sugar. I like to see how low-sugar I can possibly go.
I love pumpkin. Donald not so much. The other day I got a pumpkin craving, so I decided to play with avocadoes and pumpkin. This newest culinary invention is a Ginger Pumpkin pudding. I liked it, so I decided to share the recipe. Now I won’t guarantee this recipe that makes 4 servings is low calorie, but there is quite a bit of fiber in it to help offset some of the carbs.
Avocado Ginger Pumpkin Pudding
1 ripe avocado
- ¾ cup canned pumpkin
- 1 ½ - 2 cups vanilla flavored yogurt, divided
- ½ tsp. lemon juice
- 1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
- 8 small gingerbread cookies, crushed, with 4 tsp. reserved
- Canned whipped cream or make your own
- 4 tbsp. shaved chocolate from a candy bar
Cut avocado in half, discarding pit and skin. Put flesh in a food processer and blend until smooth.
Add pumpkin, and ½ of yogurt, lemon juice and spices to avocado and blend until well mixed.
Spoon remaining yogurt into small glass dessert cups, filling cups about ½ full. Spread evenly in cup.
Spoon pumpkin mixture over the yogurt, spreading evenly.
Cover dishes with plastic wrap, gently pressing the wrap onto the top of the pudding.
When ready to serve, top the pudding with the crushed gingerbread cookies, sprinkling evenly on top of pudding.
Add a dollop of whipped cream to top of pudding. Sprinkle reserved cookies and shaved chocolate on whipped cream.
While you’re waiting for the dessert to chill, check out The Promised One, the first book in our Turning Stone Chronicle series.
When month and day are the age that is the time
When day and month are the time that is the age
When time and age agree, trinity becomes unity
If a mark didn’t come out of the bar soon, he’d have to change his hunting spot.
Danny Shaw glanced at his watch. In the past hour, only two men—too big for him to handle—had staggered out of the Dew Drop Inn Bar and Grill. He needed someone rich and easy to take down. And soon. If he arrived late again, he’d get canned. And if he lost one more job, he’d lose Lulu.
The door opened, spilling crowd noise and blue haze onto the dimly lit street. He moved back into the shadow of the building. Waiting.
A slender woman walked by, her legs wobbling on spiked heels as the hem of her blue slinky dress swished around her thighs. Whiskey and perfume wafted on the air. As she reached to smooth back her blond hair, a prism flashed on her ring finger.
As his gut tightened, adrenalin pumped through him. Perfect. Tipsy and a rock too. A big haul could make this his last job this week, allowing him more time to spend with Lulu.
He pulled his ski mask down then took his gun from his coat.
Withdrawing a silencer from his left pocket, he screwed it onto the barrel, and stepped out. The woman didn’t notice him, so he scanned the street for witnesses. No one around. Closing the gap, he made his move.
Shaw jammed the gun barrel in her back and hooked her arm. “Don’t scream,” he whispered, “and I might let you live.”
Under his hold, she stiffened. Her high heels tapped rapidly on the pavement as he steered her into the dark, littered alley. When they were well into the shadows, hidden from passersby, he shoved her against the graffiti-covered building. “Gimme your purse and jewelry.”
The woman raised perfectly manicured hands above her head, her shoulder angling toward him as she started to twist around.
“Keep your face to the wall,” he ordered.
She mumbled something into the bricks and then lowered her left hand, dangling a bejeweled handbag behind her head.
“Now the jewelry.” He snatched the purse.
She unhooked her necklace, slipped off her watch and diamond ring, then held them out.
He stuffed them into his pocket. “The other ring, too.”
“That ring has no value. It’s costume jewelry my niece gave me.”
“Take it off.”
“You’ve got my cash and credit cards, and my diamond. Isn’t that enough?”
Damn. He hated when they resisted. “Give me the ring.”
She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “No.”
He jerked her around to face him. “Dammit, woman. Give me the freaking ring or I’ll blow your head off.” He yanked on the band.
Without warning, she swung her hand up, connecting with his jaw. Stunned, he stumbled backward, still clutching the hand with the ring. They fell to the pavement. Her hands clawed at his, and her feet kicked his shins, scrabbling their legs together.
Fighting for control. Fighting for the gun.
Wrapping his legs around hers, he rolled her over and pinned her beneath him with his body. Freeing his hand from her grasp, he slammed her skull on the ground. Her head rolled to the side and she lay still.
Certain he’d knocked her out, he tried to remove the ring from her finger. Suddenly she bolted up, head-banged him, and grabbed his gun hand.
As he struggled to keep control of the weapon, the barrel twisted toward him. Heart pounding, he watched his life flash in front of him.
Abusive childhood. Lousy job. Lulu. The elaborate wedding plans she’d made. He didn’t want to die. Not now.
He wrenched the gun toward the woman. The metallic pfft startled him. Round-eyed shock reflected in the woman’s face.
Shaw’s heart stopped racing as she relaxed in his grip, then amped back up, pounding against his ribs. Shit. Assault, battery, and now . . . murder. Quick and easy money to pay for the wedding. That’s all he’d been after. They’ll put me away for life if I get caught. Lulu’s gonna be pissed if I screw up her wedding plans.
Pushing into a squat, he stared at the dark stain spreading across the dress front. He removed the ring from the woman’s finger. She should have just given it to him.
The woman stared at him, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. “Return the ring, or you’ll be sorry.”
With a short laugh he stood. “Big words for someone bleeding to death.” After dropping the ring into his pocket, he gathered the scattered contents of her purse, and started to leave.
“Wait.” The words sounded thick and slurred . . . two octaves deeper . . . with a Scottish lilt.
Shaw frowned and spun back toward her. The pounding in his chest increased. On the ground, where the woman had fallen, lay a man.
He wore the same slinky blue dress she had—the seams ripped, the dress top collapsed over hard chest muscles, instead of smoothed over soft, rounded curves. The hem skimmed across a pair of hairy, thick thighs. Muscled male thighs. Spiked heels hung at an odd angle, toes jutting through the shoe straps. The same shoes she’d been wearing.
The alley tipped. Shaw leaned against the dumpster to steady himself. He shook his head to clear the vision, then slowly moved his gaze over the body.
A pair of steel-blue eyes stared out of a chiseled face edged with a trim salt-and-pepper beard. Shaw whirled around scanning the alley.
Where was the woman? And who the hell was this guy?
Terrified, Shaw fled.
The dying man called out, “You’re cursed. Forever.”
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.
Their paranormal series is titled The Turning Stone Chronicles.
They are looking 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.