HEAT THINGS UP WITH P.A. BROWN
Along with writing mysteries that keep you on the edge of your seat, P.A. Brown is a terrific cook. Here's a hot recipe to ward off the coming cold weather. P.A.'s notes are italicized.
Pat’s Beanless Crockpot Chili
½ lb bacon, cooked crisp
2 lbs ground meat – can be lean beef, chicken, turkey or pork, or a mixture. Exotic meats can be used as well – venison, buffalo, etc.
2 28 oz cans of whole tomatoes
1 can tomato paste
Chopped hot peppers to taste – for no heat, use green bell peppers
Carrots, shredded fine
Chili powder to taste
2 tbsp cocoa powder – should be at least 70% cocoa
salt and pepper to taste
Bottle of dark beer – stout, porter or brown
Optional Additions to include before deglazing
Roasted kernel corn
Mushrooms, chopped
Grilled tomatoes, chopped
Grilled peppers, chopped
Toppings
1 cup of sour cream - Plain yogurt can be substituted for the sour cream
1 cup of shredded cheddar cheese – I like sharp, 2-3 year old cheddar, but any cheese will do
Chopped cilantro if you like
Directions
Cook bacon till crisp. Drain on paper towel.
Use bacon grease to cook ground meat until it begins to brown, remove from pan and put in crock pot. If there’s a lot of fat, drain most of it. Add all other ingredients, including any of the optional additions you like, to crock pot.
Use beer to deglaze the meat pan, then pour into crock pot, scrapping the bottom of the pan.
Stir cock pot well with a wooden spoon. Cook on high for half an hour, then turn to low and let it simmer all day if you want.
Serve with corn bread, garlic bread, or crusty rolls. Top with grated cheese, sour cream, cilantro if used.
This chili is wonderful with fries and cheese for chili fries. Or topping a hamburger.
Freezes very well. Could be kept for up to 6 months. This one only gets better with age.
While this superb chili is simmering, enjoy a few chapters of P.A. Brown's Between Darkness and Light available at MLR Press.
Here's a small clue about the book:
Detective Russell Hunter emerges from darkness to meet fine artist Stephen Fischer, darling of the Los Angeles art world. Can these two unravel the mystery surrounding the death of two of L.A's art critics before Stephen becomes the next victim.
The downtown Los Angeles financial center is the heart of this thrilling murder mystery and the unwanted love that grows between a cop with a dark secret in his troubled past and an up and coming world class artist.
Learn more about P.A. Brown and the vacation from hell on her website
I'll be back Wednesday with KC Kendriks. Until then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
Showing posts with label P.A. Brown. Show all posts
Showing posts with label P.A. Brown. Show all posts
Monday, October 11, 2010
Monday, October 04, 2010
P.A. Brown's Goodies for All to Try
Not only does reknown author P.A. Brown create unforgettable stories, she also concocts mouth-watering goodies. Below are two of P.A.'s recipes to entice you. We tried them and Studs couldn't get enough.
Berry Crunch Muffins
1/2 C Lowfat granola
1 C whole-wheat flour
1 C all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 large egg
3/4 C orange, grape juice or cranberry
1/4, C vegetable oil (canola, corn, peanut, etc)
2/3 C light brown sugar
3 tbsp Dutch cocoa (at least 70% cocoa)
1 tsp grated lemon zest (or if using orange juice use orange zest)
1 1/2 C fresh or frozen blueberries or cranberries
1/4 C flaxseed
1 tsp Vanilla
Pre-heat oven to 400 F. Coat muffin pans – 12-16, or mini pans – with cooking spray. Crush granola to eliminate larger chunks.
Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, flax and salt in a large bowl.
In medium bowl whisk juice, egg, oil, vanilla, zest and sugar and blend until sugar dissolved.
Add liquid to dry mixture. Fold in until just moist, do not over blend. Fold in blueberries. Fill muffin cups about 2/3 full, sprinkle with enough granola to cover top of muffin. Pat down so granola adheres.
Bake until tops are golden brown and center comes out clean, about 20-25 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes. Remove from pan, cool and cover.
Added note from P.A.: These are great warm. they’re crunchier when fresh, but still taste great the next day. Word of warning, these are very crumbly. I don’t advise eating over a keyboard. :)
While these tasty muffins are baking, it's a perfect time to read a few chapters from FOREST OF CORPSES. If you don't have a copy yet, you can purchase one at MLR Press
Another great recipe for a fun Sunday night is P.A.'s Pizza.
Pat’s Pizza
SAUCE
1 28 oz can of whole tomatoes
3-4 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
½ small white onion, chopped fine
6-8 large basil leaves, chopped fine
Large bunch of fresh oregano, chopped fine or 2 tbsp dried oregano
You can even slip in things like finely grated carrots, or flaxseed into the sauce.
DOUGH
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all purpose white
1 tsp salt
¼ cup virgin olive oil
1 cup warm water
1 pkg yeast
1tsp sugar
¼ cup corn meal
TOPPINGS (some possiblities)
Fresh mushrooms, chopped
Pepperoni, sliced thin
Peppers (green, yellow, red)
Ham
Fresh tomatoes
Sausage
Onions
Pineapple
Bacon
Anchovies
Chicken
Spinach
Olives
Garlic
Zucchini
Broccoli
Basil leaves
Roast peppers or tomatoes
Anything else you can think of
½ - ¾ cup Mozzarella cheese, grated
¼ cup Parmigiana cheese, grated fine
INSTRUCTIONS
For the best results, make the sauce the day before. Blend tomatoes, garlic, onion, basil and oregano. I use a food processor or blender. A hand held blender will work, too. Do not over blend. There should be some texture to the sauce. Cover and refrigerate at least overnight to blend flavors. DO NOT COOK.
For dough, add yeast and sugar to warm water. The best temperature is just warm to the touch. Let stand for 10 minutes in warm place. Add flour and salt to large bowl. Blend well. Add water and yeast. Add oil and mix well. Turn dough out onto a dry, floured surface, knead for at least 10 minutes. Add flour as needed until dough is no longer sticky. Form into a ball and place in a clean, oiled bowl. Cover with damp cloth and put in warm, draft free place. (I put it in the oven with the oven light on) Let rise for at least 2 hours or until dough has doubled in size.
Heat oven to 450 F. If you have a pizza stone, put it in the oven now.
Divide the dough into 3 even pieces. Roll into balls. On floured surface, knead dough into a disk. I use a rolling pin to roll the dough into a 14” circle. It can also be stretched by hand. (I’ve never mastered the art of throwing dough) On a 14” pizza pan, spray with non-stick cooking spray or oil. Dust with corn meal. Fold dough in half, place it on pizza pan and make sure it goes to the edges. Let sit for fifteen minutes. Using a fork poke holes in dough so it doesn’t puff up in oven.
Precook dough for 5 minutes (this helps ensure it doesn’t get soggy from the sauce). Remove from oven. Do this with each piece of dough. Three 14” pizzas can be made (thin crust) or two thick crust or several pie pan individual pizzas. Bake each one for 5 minutes.
Using small ladle or large spoon, spread at least half a cup of sauce on dough (you can use less if you want. I like a lot of sauce with my pizzas). Top with ½ cup of cheese. Layer ingredients over top of cheese. Add another ½ cup of cheese. Sprinkle a couple of teaspoons of parmigiana.
Either using a pizza paddle, or a pizza pan, slide the pizza on the stone. Let cook for 10 minutes, check and rotate. Cook until cheese bubbles and begins to brown. Remove from oven and put on pizza pan sprinkled with corn meal. Let sit for 5 minutes, slice as desired.
A few notes from P.A.:
*Whole canned tomatoes are freshest – they only undergo 1 cooking, whereas chopped, pureed or crushed are all cooked a second time.
**All whole wheat can be used though the texture will be slightly heavier. Non-bleached white, or all white flour can also be used.
***Sauce can be frozen and kept for up to four months. Sauce can also be used with panzarotti, lasagna, as a dip for mozzarella sticks, pizza rolls, or anything a good tomato sauce can be put on. English muffins, crusty rolls, pita bread, tortillas, and flat bread can be substituted for the home made crust.
****A variety of cheeses can be used – including, but not limited to goat, asiago, Monterey Jack, cheddar, feta, blue cheese. Several types of cheese can be blended.
**** Good quality fresh Parmigiana is worth the higher price. At all costs, avoid the canned Parmesan. It’s flavorless.
One pie feeds 2-4 people. Wrap leftovers with Saran Wrap. Will keep a day or two in the fridge, but frankly, it’s not as good the next day. This is one meal that tastes best fresh.
P.A. Also says: My favorite pizza pans are the ones with holes. Other equipment to have if you make pizza regularly include a pizza wheel, pizza stone and pizza paddle. The stone and paddle can also be used to bake bread as well.
With a pizza stone this could also be cooked on a barbecue.
Now's a good time to read P.A.'s hit book GEOGRAPHY OF MURDER. Click HERE to learn more. You can also catch up with P.A. Brown on her website.
I'll be back on Wednesday with the popular Ginger Simpson. Until then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
Not only does reknown author P.A. Brown create unforgettable stories, she also concocts mouth-watering goodies. Below are two of P.A.'s recipes to entice you. We tried them and Studs couldn't get enough.
Berry Crunch Muffins
1/2 C Lowfat granola
1 C whole-wheat flour
1 C all-purpose flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 large egg
3/4 C orange, grape juice or cranberry
1/4, C vegetable oil (canola, corn, peanut, etc)
2/3 C light brown sugar
3 tbsp Dutch cocoa (at least 70% cocoa)
1 tsp grated lemon zest (or if using orange juice use orange zest)
1 1/2 C fresh or frozen blueberries or cranberries
1/4 C flaxseed
1 tsp Vanilla
Pre-heat oven to 400 F. Coat muffin pans – 12-16, or mini pans – with cooking spray. Crush granola to eliminate larger chunks.
Combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, flax and salt in a large bowl.
In medium bowl whisk juice, egg, oil, vanilla, zest and sugar and blend until sugar dissolved.
Add liquid to dry mixture. Fold in until just moist, do not over blend. Fold in blueberries. Fill muffin cups about 2/3 full, sprinkle with enough granola to cover top of muffin. Pat down so granola adheres.
Bake until tops are golden brown and center comes out clean, about 20-25 minutes. Let cool for 5 minutes. Remove from pan, cool and cover.
Added note from P.A.: These are great warm. they’re crunchier when fresh, but still taste great the next day. Word of warning, these are very crumbly. I don’t advise eating over a keyboard. :)
While these tasty muffins are baking, it's a perfect time to read a few chapters from FOREST OF CORPSES. If you don't have a copy yet, you can purchase one at MLR Press
Another great recipe for a fun Sunday night is P.A.'s Pizza.
Pat’s Pizza
SAUCE
1 28 oz can of whole tomatoes
3-4 cloves of garlic, chopped fine
½ small white onion, chopped fine
6-8 large basil leaves, chopped fine
Large bunch of fresh oregano, chopped fine or 2 tbsp dried oregano
You can even slip in things like finely grated carrots, or flaxseed into the sauce.
DOUGH
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all purpose white
1 tsp salt
¼ cup virgin olive oil
1 cup warm water
1 pkg yeast
1tsp sugar
¼ cup corn meal
TOPPINGS (some possiblities)
Fresh mushrooms, chopped
Pepperoni, sliced thin
Peppers (green, yellow, red)
Ham
Fresh tomatoes
Sausage
Onions
Pineapple
Bacon
Anchovies
Chicken
Spinach
Olives
Garlic
Zucchini
Broccoli
Basil leaves
Roast peppers or tomatoes
Anything else you can think of
½ - ¾ cup Mozzarella cheese, grated
¼ cup Parmigiana cheese, grated fine
INSTRUCTIONS
For the best results, make the sauce the day before. Blend tomatoes, garlic, onion, basil and oregano. I use a food processor or blender. A hand held blender will work, too. Do not over blend. There should be some texture to the sauce. Cover and refrigerate at least overnight to blend flavors. DO NOT COOK.
For dough, add yeast and sugar to warm water. The best temperature is just warm to the touch. Let stand for 10 minutes in warm place. Add flour and salt to large bowl. Blend well. Add water and yeast. Add oil and mix well. Turn dough out onto a dry, floured surface, knead for at least 10 minutes. Add flour as needed until dough is no longer sticky. Form into a ball and place in a clean, oiled bowl. Cover with damp cloth and put in warm, draft free place. (I put it in the oven with the oven light on) Let rise for at least 2 hours or until dough has doubled in size.
Heat oven to 450 F. If you have a pizza stone, put it in the oven now.
Divide the dough into 3 even pieces. Roll into balls. On floured surface, knead dough into a disk. I use a rolling pin to roll the dough into a 14” circle. It can also be stretched by hand. (I’ve never mastered the art of throwing dough) On a 14” pizza pan, spray with non-stick cooking spray or oil. Dust with corn meal. Fold dough in half, place it on pizza pan and make sure it goes to the edges. Let sit for fifteen minutes. Using a fork poke holes in dough so it doesn’t puff up in oven.
Precook dough for 5 minutes (this helps ensure it doesn’t get soggy from the sauce). Remove from oven. Do this with each piece of dough. Three 14” pizzas can be made (thin crust) or two thick crust or several pie pan individual pizzas. Bake each one for 5 minutes.
Using small ladle or large spoon, spread at least half a cup of sauce on dough (you can use less if you want. I like a lot of sauce with my pizzas). Top with ½ cup of cheese. Layer ingredients over top of cheese. Add another ½ cup of cheese. Sprinkle a couple of teaspoons of parmigiana.
Either using a pizza paddle, or a pizza pan, slide the pizza on the stone. Let cook for 10 minutes, check and rotate. Cook until cheese bubbles and begins to brown. Remove from oven and put on pizza pan sprinkled with corn meal. Let sit for 5 minutes, slice as desired.
A few notes from P.A.:
*Whole canned tomatoes are freshest – they only undergo 1 cooking, whereas chopped, pureed or crushed are all cooked a second time.
**All whole wheat can be used though the texture will be slightly heavier. Non-bleached white, or all white flour can also be used.
***Sauce can be frozen and kept for up to four months. Sauce can also be used with panzarotti, lasagna, as a dip for mozzarella sticks, pizza rolls, or anything a good tomato sauce can be put on. English muffins, crusty rolls, pita bread, tortillas, and flat bread can be substituted for the home made crust.
****A variety of cheeses can be used – including, but not limited to goat, asiago, Monterey Jack, cheddar, feta, blue cheese. Several types of cheese can be blended.
**** Good quality fresh Parmigiana is worth the higher price. At all costs, avoid the canned Parmesan. It’s flavorless.
One pie feeds 2-4 people. Wrap leftovers with Saran Wrap. Will keep a day or two in the fridge, but frankly, it’s not as good the next day. This is one meal that tastes best fresh.
P.A. Also says: My favorite pizza pans are the ones with holes. Other equipment to have if you make pizza regularly include a pizza wheel, pizza stone and pizza paddle. The stone and paddle can also be used to bake bread as well.
With a pizza stone this could also be cooked on a barbecue.
Now's a good time to read P.A.'s hit book GEOGRAPHY OF MURDER. Click HERE to learn more. You can also catch up with P.A. Brown on her website.
I'll be back on Wednesday with the popular Ginger Simpson. Until then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
Monday, September 27, 2010
FRONT AND CENTER WITH P.A. BROWN
L.A. BYTES is the thrilling third novel in P.A. Brown’s L.A. series. This expertly written book and has an intricately woven plot that will keep you guessing until the last page.
Here's what Romance Junkies has to say:
L.A. BYTES is a gripping and captivating mystery that kept me on the edge of my seat.
Reviewer: Christina
L.A. BYTES
P.A. Brown
ISBN 978-1-60820-040-5 (print)
ISBN 978-1-60820-041-2 (ebook)
MLR Press
BUY LINK
EXCERPT:
David extended his card to the tiny woman with pumpkin-colored hair.
“Mrs. Crandall? Alice Crandall?”
She took the card and held it between her finger and thumb like it might be the devil’s calling card. She barely glanced at it.
Alice had been the victim’s neighbor for “nigh on five years, young man,” she told the two detectives. “That’s why I told that young pup that there was no way Nancy committed suicide. She’d have paraded naked down Glendale Boulevard sooner than she’d have killed herself.”
“We’re here to listen, Mrs. Crandall.” David tipped his head and kept his face neutral. He flipped open his notepad and wrote the day’s date. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, if we could. Nancy Scott was her name, is that correct?”
“Nancy Amelia Scott,” Alice said. “That was her full Christian name, rest her soul.”
“You knew her five years. Did she move in five years ago, or did you?”
“I’ve been on this same spot of earth since before my good husband Lloyd passed, nigh on eleven years ago it was, rest his soul. He was a good man. Salt of the earth.”
David scanned the room. From what he could see it looked like Alice had furnished the place during the height of the beige eighties and never recovered from it. If there was a spot of color anywhere, he couldn’t find it. “So Mrs. Scott moved in five years ago. Was she by herself?”
“That man was a saint, he was. Why, even Father Barnaby used to remark as how good he was, never drank a tipple in his life and worked until they forced him to retire at sixty-five. Not that he wanted to leave, mind you, the man loved to work, almost as much as he loved to talk—”
“Yes, Mrs. Crandall,” David said. “I’m sorry for your loss, but if you could just answer some questions about your neighbor.”
“Lloyd would have loved Nancy. She was a pious woman, never heard a curse word come out of her mouth. Even Lloyd wasn’t that good.”
“When was the last time you actually saw Mrs. Scott, ma’am?” David persisted. Patience was a virtue, his own, less than saintly, mother might have said, but there were times when patience could take a flying leap. “You mentioned her missing Mass on Sunday. So if she wasn’t there, when did you see her last?”
“Sunday Nancy always came with me,” Alice said. “She wasn’t born a Catholic; she told me that right after I first asked her to join me at Incarnation. Was born a Presbyterian but never found satisfaction in that faith.” Alice dug her short, unpolished nails through the tight mass of bright hair. “She strayed, she said, and when she found her way back, she decided the good Lord meant her to be part of the true faith, so she come and joined our church. She asked for my help then,” Alice said proudly. “She asked me to help her find her way back to God.”
“Yes, ma’am,” David said. Beside him Martinez harrumphed softly. “But I still need to know when you last saw Nancy alive.”
Alice eyed Martinez coldly, then smiled at David, revealing impossibly even, white teeth. “Are you Catholic, young man?”
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not.”
“Pity.”
“Yes, ma’am. Now ma’am—”
“I know,” Alice said. “When did I last see her?”
“Yes, ma’am—”
“I’ll tell you if you stop jabbering. Can’t stand a man who always interrupts. Her son was like that, you know. Always cutting in, interrupting his mother like everything he had to say was pure gospel and the rest of us should just shut up and listen.”
“Her son, ma’am?” David leaned closer, pen poised over his dog-eared notepad. “Mrs. Scott had a son? What about a Mr. Scott?”
“No Mr. Scott. He was her past, she used to say, she was her own future. She never spoke of him. If he was anything like her son, I can understand why.”
“Would you know where we might find this son?”
“He comes around, regular as church bells,” Alice said. “Every other Wednesday.”
“And the last Wednesday he was here?”
The woman shrugged her thin shoulders. “Week or so ago.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Why, I guess that would be two weeks ago tomorrow.”
David and Martinez traded looks. “Yes, ma’am,” they both said.
“I guess you can ask him these questions.” Alice smiled slyly. “Oh, and the last time I saw Nancy was Saturday morning. We walked down to the market to buy groceries.”
“What did Mrs. Scott buy?” David asked, remembering the nearly empty refrigerator. And the chocolate wrapper.
Alice sniffed. “Orange juice, couple of cans of soup, bananas and a newspaper. I never saw such a one for not eating proper. I don’t know how she stayed healthy.” Her face suddenly screwed up. “I guess she didn’t though, did she?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You still think she killed herself?”
“That’s up to the medical examiner to determine,” David said.
“Will you be by to talk to that boy of hers tomorrow?”
“We just might do that, ma’am.”
Alice smiled again. “Well, I won’t tell him you’re coming.”
David almost smiled in return. “You have a good day now.”
“You find out what happened to Nancy, and I’ll have a good day.”
She shut the door of her apartment behind them, leaving them standing in the musty hallway looking at each other in bemusement.
“Guess we come by to talk to junior, then,” Martinez said. “Where do you think he was all this time?”
David pulled out the car keys and jangled them against his leg. “We’ll have to make sure to ask, now won’t we?”
BUY LINK
To learn more about P. A. Brown and her terrific books, check out her website. You'll enjoy the journey.
I'll be back Wednesday with multi-published Linda Sole, who now has 100 books to her credit. Be sure to drop in. Until then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
L.A. BYTES is the thrilling third novel in P.A. Brown’s L.A. series. This expertly written book and has an intricately woven plot that will keep you guessing until the last page.
Here's what Romance Junkies has to say:
L.A. BYTES is a gripping and captivating mystery that kept me on the edge of my seat.
Reviewer: Christina
L.A. BYTES
P.A. Brown
ISBN 978-1-60820-040-5 (print)
ISBN 978-1-60820-041-2 (ebook)
MLR Press
BUY LINK
EXCERPT:
David extended his card to the tiny woman with pumpkin-colored hair.
“Mrs. Crandall? Alice Crandall?”
She took the card and held it between her finger and thumb like it might be the devil’s calling card. She barely glanced at it.
Alice had been the victim’s neighbor for “nigh on five years, young man,” she told the two detectives. “That’s why I told that young pup that there was no way Nancy committed suicide. She’d have paraded naked down Glendale Boulevard sooner than she’d have killed herself.”
“We’re here to listen, Mrs. Crandall.” David tipped his head and kept his face neutral. He flipped open his notepad and wrote the day’s date. “We’d like to ask you a few questions about your neighbor, if we could. Nancy Scott was her name, is that correct?”
“Nancy Amelia Scott,” Alice said. “That was her full Christian name, rest her soul.”
“You knew her five years. Did she move in five years ago, or did you?”
“I’ve been on this same spot of earth since before my good husband Lloyd passed, nigh on eleven years ago it was, rest his soul. He was a good man. Salt of the earth.”
David scanned the room. From what he could see it looked like Alice had furnished the place during the height of the beige eighties and never recovered from it. If there was a spot of color anywhere, he couldn’t find it. “So Mrs. Scott moved in five years ago. Was she by herself?”
“That man was a saint, he was. Why, even Father Barnaby used to remark as how good he was, never drank a tipple in his life and worked until they forced him to retire at sixty-five. Not that he wanted to leave, mind you, the man loved to work, almost as much as he loved to talk—”
“Yes, Mrs. Crandall,” David said. “I’m sorry for your loss, but if you could just answer some questions about your neighbor.”
“Lloyd would have loved Nancy. She was a pious woman, never heard a curse word come out of her mouth. Even Lloyd wasn’t that good.”
“When was the last time you actually saw Mrs. Scott, ma’am?” David persisted. Patience was a virtue, his own, less than saintly, mother might have said, but there were times when patience could take a flying leap. “You mentioned her missing Mass on Sunday. So if she wasn’t there, when did you see her last?”
“Sunday Nancy always came with me,” Alice said. “She wasn’t born a Catholic; she told me that right after I first asked her to join me at Incarnation. Was born a Presbyterian but never found satisfaction in that faith.” Alice dug her short, unpolished nails through the tight mass of bright hair. “She strayed, she said, and when she found her way back, she decided the good Lord meant her to be part of the true faith, so she come and joined our church. She asked for my help then,” Alice said proudly. “She asked me to help her find her way back to God.”
“Yes, ma’am,” David said. Beside him Martinez harrumphed softly. “But I still need to know when you last saw Nancy alive.”
Alice eyed Martinez coldly, then smiled at David, revealing impossibly even, white teeth. “Are you Catholic, young man?”
“No, ma’am, I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m not.”
“Pity.”
“Yes, ma’am. Now ma’am—”
“I know,” Alice said. “When did I last see her?”
“Yes, ma’am—”
“I’ll tell you if you stop jabbering. Can’t stand a man who always interrupts. Her son was like that, you know. Always cutting in, interrupting his mother like everything he had to say was pure gospel and the rest of us should just shut up and listen.”
“Her son, ma’am?” David leaned closer, pen poised over his dog-eared notepad. “Mrs. Scott had a son? What about a Mr. Scott?”
“No Mr. Scott. He was her past, she used to say, she was her own future. She never spoke of him. If he was anything like her son, I can understand why.”
“Would you know where we might find this son?”
“He comes around, regular as church bells,” Alice said. “Every other Wednesday.”
“And the last Wednesday he was here?”
The woman shrugged her thin shoulders. “Week or so ago.” The corners of her mouth lifted in a smile. “Why, I guess that would be two weeks ago tomorrow.”
David and Martinez traded looks. “Yes, ma’am,” they both said.
“I guess you can ask him these questions.” Alice smiled slyly. “Oh, and the last time I saw Nancy was Saturday morning. We walked down to the market to buy groceries.”
“What did Mrs. Scott buy?” David asked, remembering the nearly empty refrigerator. And the chocolate wrapper.
Alice sniffed. “Orange juice, couple of cans of soup, bananas and a newspaper. I never saw such a one for not eating proper. I don’t know how she stayed healthy.” Her face suddenly screwed up. “I guess she didn’t though, did she?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You still think she killed herself?”
“That’s up to the medical examiner to determine,” David said.
“Will you be by to talk to that boy of hers tomorrow?”
“We just might do that, ma’am.”
Alice smiled again. “Well, I won’t tell him you’re coming.”
David almost smiled in return. “You have a good day now.”
“You find out what happened to Nancy, and I’ll have a good day.”
She shut the door of her apartment behind them, leaving them standing in the musty hallway looking at each other in bemusement.
“Guess we come by to talk to junior, then,” Martinez said. “Where do you think he was all this time?”
David pulled out the car keys and jangled them against his leg. “We’ll have to make sure to ask, now won’t we?”
BUY LINK
To learn more about P. A. Brown and her terrific books, check out her website. You'll enjoy the journey.
I'll be back Wednesday with multi-published Linda Sole, who now has 100 books to her credit. Be sure to drop in. Until then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
Monday, September 20, 2010
FOREST OF CORPSES
P.A. Brown is back with us today, showcasing her latest hot book FOREST OF CORPSES which is the sequel to THE GEOGRAPHY OF MURDER. Both books are gripping suspense with just the right amount of romance. You're sure to enjoy them.
Check out more of P.A. Brown's exciting work on her website.
FOREST OF CORPSES
P.A. Brown
ISBN 978-1-60820-163-1 Print
ISBN 978-1-60820-164-8 E-book
MLR Press
BUY LINK
BLURB
Welcome to the Los Padres National Forest. A vacation from hell.
EXCERPT
Spider
Nobody died today.
That’s a good day in my books, but I knew it wouldn’t last.
Westside had a major hard on for Eastside. War was brewing. Fideo and his WS crew shot up the East Beach, then a week later, on Memorial Day, did the same at a market on Anacapa Street. That time their aim had improved. They dropped two Eastside bangers and a ten-year-old boy out buying milk for his grandmother. Both OGs made it. The kid didn’t. Chalk it up to collateral damage from the drug war.
We canvassed the market and caught a couple of witnesses who saw the whole thing. So we nailed Fideo along with two members of his posse, and tossed their cholo butts in jail. Fideo lawyered up with a good uptown legal beagle, but still sat in lockup, no bail. Then another drive-by took out witness one. Suddenly our only remaining witness “made a mistake.” The paperwork wasn’t dry before the scrotes were back in the hood and the witness was in hiding. Fideo rode with his ese through his hood, crowing how he beat 5-0. His street creds firmly embellished by his latest exploits, he was back, and he was stronger.
And took up his business of dealing drugs, death and taxes without losing a night’s sleep.
Miguel, my new partner, snapped his frustration. “How can we stop these people if no one will testify against them?”
I shrugged. “It bites, I agree. But look at it from their side. Hard to testify from a pine box.”
“God will take care of them.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes, making sure he couldn’t see the gesture. “I’m sure Mr. Gillespie’s family feel the same way.” Gillespie had been witness number one, a businessman leaving a wife and two young kids behind. He told me when I interviewed him the first time he had to talk. That it wasn’t right that these men could terrorize a neighborhood and get away with it. What kind of example did that set for his kids? Well, I guess his kids learned a valuable lesson there. But probably not the one their old man wanted to give. We had gone to Gillespie’s funeral yesterday, per department regulations. Not surprising, no one from Westside showed or sent their condolences. Not that there was much we could have done if they had. As usual, we had no proof that put any Westside banger anywhere near the vicinity of Gillespie’s untimely death. What we had were two bullets from a 9 mil that couldn’t be tied to any other crimes. A clean gun for a clean hit.
There was a time when my frustration level would have surpassed Miguel’s. Those days are long gone. First thing you learn on the job, leave it at the station. Taking it home with you is the surest way to give yourself high blood pressure and a date with your own duty weapon, or your cardiologist.
There was a time I used to share my world with dead people. The homicides I couldn’t solve would follow me home and make me hold them in my memory. The more brutal they were, the more they clung to me, needing closure I couldn’t give them.
Then Jason burst into my life, unasked and unlooked for. I hooked him up and tossed his ass in jail for the murder of a man it turned out he’d never met. A lot of people would have flipped me the bird for what I did, but Jason wasn’t like that. There wasn’t a vengeful bone in his perfect body. Instead, once he was released from jail, we’d gone out to dinner, ended up back at my place with my dick up his ass, and my heart in his hands. I realized then I never wanted to let this guy go. It took me months to be able to admit my feelings to myself, let alone to Jason. Then, I damn near fucked what we had up permanently when my petty jealousy turned me into a dangerous fool. It probably would have served me right if Jay had told me to fuck off when I got up the nerve to follow him to Los Angeles. He didn’t, and here we are, two months later, sharing a bed and a bath, and hopefully, a future.
Sometimes my dead people still come around to stalk my dreams, but now there’s an anchor to hold onto when I wake up in a cold sweat, with my heart pounding and my mouth dry with unspoken fear; there to whisper soothing words, not press me for explanations I was loathe to give anyone. Even for Jason I didn’t show weakness.
He gave me back my life. So why can’t I give him the one thing he wants? Because I’m a fucking coward who’s afraid of losing control again? Afraid? Fuck that. Alexander Spider isn’t afraid of anything. Or anyone.
The morning after Gillespie’s funeral I got up before Jason. Dressing after my shower, I stood over our bed, studying him while I buttoned my shirt. Sometime during the night he had kicked his covers off exposing his delicious butt, and all I had to do was reach out and stroke the peach soft skin. I knew my touch would instantly wake him up, and I had no trouble imagining those sleepy eyes falling on me and that slow, sexy smile he only gave to me. We’d both been too tired last night to do anything but fall into bed. There was nothing sleepy about my body now. My dick pressed painfully against my briefs and I shifted, trying to ease the sudden constriction.
BUY LINK
I'll be back Wednesday with more suspense by the uber talented Dorien Grey. Be sure to stop by. Until then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
P.A. Brown is back with us today, showcasing her latest hot book FOREST OF CORPSES which is the sequel to THE GEOGRAPHY OF MURDER. Both books are gripping suspense with just the right amount of romance. You're sure to enjoy them.
Check out more of P.A. Brown's exciting work on her website.
FOREST OF CORPSES
P.A. Brown
ISBN 978-1-60820-163-1 Print
ISBN 978-1-60820-164-8 E-book
MLR Press
BUY LINK
BLURB
Welcome to the Los Padres National Forest. A vacation from hell.
EXCERPT
Spider
Nobody died today.
That’s a good day in my books, but I knew it wouldn’t last.
Westside had a major hard on for Eastside. War was brewing. Fideo and his WS crew shot up the East Beach, then a week later, on Memorial Day, did the same at a market on Anacapa Street. That time their aim had improved. They dropped two Eastside bangers and a ten-year-old boy out buying milk for his grandmother. Both OGs made it. The kid didn’t. Chalk it up to collateral damage from the drug war.
We canvassed the market and caught a couple of witnesses who saw the whole thing. So we nailed Fideo along with two members of his posse, and tossed their cholo butts in jail. Fideo lawyered up with a good uptown legal beagle, but still sat in lockup, no bail. Then another drive-by took out witness one. Suddenly our only remaining witness “made a mistake.” The paperwork wasn’t dry before the scrotes were back in the hood and the witness was in hiding. Fideo rode with his ese through his hood, crowing how he beat 5-0. His street creds firmly embellished by his latest exploits, he was back, and he was stronger.
And took up his business of dealing drugs, death and taxes without losing a night’s sleep.
Miguel, my new partner, snapped his frustration. “How can we stop these people if no one will testify against them?”
I shrugged. “It bites, I agree. But look at it from their side. Hard to testify from a pine box.”
“God will take care of them.”
“Right.” I rolled my eyes, making sure he couldn’t see the gesture. “I’m sure Mr. Gillespie’s family feel the same way.” Gillespie had been witness number one, a businessman leaving a wife and two young kids behind. He told me when I interviewed him the first time he had to talk. That it wasn’t right that these men could terrorize a neighborhood and get away with it. What kind of example did that set for his kids? Well, I guess his kids learned a valuable lesson there. But probably not the one their old man wanted to give. We had gone to Gillespie’s funeral yesterday, per department regulations. Not surprising, no one from Westside showed or sent their condolences. Not that there was much we could have done if they had. As usual, we had no proof that put any Westside banger anywhere near the vicinity of Gillespie’s untimely death. What we had were two bullets from a 9 mil that couldn’t be tied to any other crimes. A clean gun for a clean hit.
There was a time when my frustration level would have surpassed Miguel’s. Those days are long gone. First thing you learn on the job, leave it at the station. Taking it home with you is the surest way to give yourself high blood pressure and a date with your own duty weapon, or your cardiologist.
There was a time I used to share my world with dead people. The homicides I couldn’t solve would follow me home and make me hold them in my memory. The more brutal they were, the more they clung to me, needing closure I couldn’t give them.
Then Jason burst into my life, unasked and unlooked for. I hooked him up and tossed his ass in jail for the murder of a man it turned out he’d never met. A lot of people would have flipped me the bird for what I did, but Jason wasn’t like that. There wasn’t a vengeful bone in his perfect body. Instead, once he was released from jail, we’d gone out to dinner, ended up back at my place with my dick up his ass, and my heart in his hands. I realized then I never wanted to let this guy go. It took me months to be able to admit my feelings to myself, let alone to Jason. Then, I damn near fucked what we had up permanently when my petty jealousy turned me into a dangerous fool. It probably would have served me right if Jay had told me to fuck off when I got up the nerve to follow him to Los Angeles. He didn’t, and here we are, two months later, sharing a bed and a bath, and hopefully, a future.
Sometimes my dead people still come around to stalk my dreams, but now there’s an anchor to hold onto when I wake up in a cold sweat, with my heart pounding and my mouth dry with unspoken fear; there to whisper soothing words, not press me for explanations I was loathe to give anyone. Even for Jason I didn’t show weakness.
He gave me back my life. So why can’t I give him the one thing he wants? Because I’m a fucking coward who’s afraid of losing control again? Afraid? Fuck that. Alexander Spider isn’t afraid of anything. Or anyone.
The morning after Gillespie’s funeral I got up before Jason. Dressing after my shower, I stood over our bed, studying him while I buttoned my shirt. Sometime during the night he had kicked his covers off exposing his delicious butt, and all I had to do was reach out and stroke the peach soft skin. I knew my touch would instantly wake him up, and I had no trouble imagining those sleepy eyes falling on me and that slow, sexy smile he only gave to me. We’d both been too tired last night to do anything but fall into bed. There was nothing sleepy about my body now. My dick pressed painfully against my briefs and I shifted, trying to ease the sudden constriction.
BUY LINK
I'll be back Wednesday with more suspense by the uber talented Dorien Grey. Be sure to stop by. Until then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
Monday, September 13, 2010
P.A. BROWN, FRONT AND CENTER
Born in Canada, P. A. Brown's approach to life was tempered in the forges of Los Angeles. After eight years in the City of Angels, she was endowed with a fascination for the darker side of life and the professionals who patrol those mean streets.
P.A. considers those years a lifetime's worth of experience that she mines regularly in her novels. She is not afraid to explore the darker sides of her characters and the streets they inhabit, including the ones most people are afraid to walk down alone at night.
Here's an excellent example of her terrific books.
FALL INTO THE NIGHT
P.A. Brown
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-713-7 (Electronic)
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-777-9 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure
BUY LINK
BLURB
The death of his father catapults Terik u Selhdun into the position of Ogema of Tiamat, the planet of his birth. It was a position he rejected years before when he and his autocratic father clashed over Selhdun's homosexuality. Instead, Selhdun became a linked pilot and owner of his own ship, the Necromancer. Linked pilots are the only ones who can take a ship through Jump, a form of hypserspace travel that allows the empire of man, known as the Autarch, to thrive.
War drove the humans off their home world of Terra (Earth). In the subsequent years, the coordinates of the Terran Jumpoint were lost. When they eventually resurface, Selhdun and the Necromancer are hired to transport a group of scientists back to Terra in order to ascertain whether humans can safely return to the planet of their origin.
But numerous forces in and out of government don't want Selhdun to succeed. Troubles plague the expedition, including an assassination attempt and brutal enemies hell-bent on stopping Selhdun and the ship, even as he and his crew make strides in their mission. Yet in Terran space, a new lethal menace awaits, and soon everyone on board the Necromancer discovers the battle to stay alive has only just begun...
EXCERPT
A hard, driving snow scudded out of a sky as bleak and depressing as the fallow fields around them. Selhdun didn’t need to consult Ship to know the weather was going to turn even nastier and soon. He had too many memories of such storms closing in on them.
“Get us inside,” he said to the driver when their vehicle paused at the first Enclave gate for HouseComp to verify his identity.
Selhdun knew at that moment a battery of unseen lasguns was trained on them. He barely felt the actual scan, which read the schematics of his embedded ID and verified his identity against HC’s database.
The lights of a distant village shone through the mounting storm. He tried to think of the village name; had he ever been there? He seemed to remember a harvest festival. The fireworks to honor the Ogema and his children had impressed a seven-year-old Selhdun for years afterward. Kanahchi-Wahnung, that was it. A tiny village full of brightly painted houses like so many other villages that made up the local farming co-ops.
A gust of wind rocked the groundcar. The icy-fingered wind whined as it sought to reach the warm bodies inside. Selhdun huddled within the folds of his coat and waited.
“Trust him to save his dying until the end of the season,” Selhdun said to Pakal. “I could do without weather. I think I deliberately forgot how miserable climate is. Don’t tell me—on Xua this would be a balmy spring day.”
“On Xua the elements are legendary.” Pakal made a pretense of peering out into the growing blizzard. A spray of ice crystals rattled against the car windows. “We rarely had such pleasant weather, in spring or any other season.”
Selhdun shivered and not just from the cold. His muscle already shook from over-exertion. He regretted the impetuousness that had brought him here.
Pakal was right. Selhdun should have turned up the gravity or spent time in the gym. If he had, his heart wouldn’t seem like it was trying to climb out of his chest. Even sitting, it felt like hot spikes were being driven into his calves.
The groundcar crossed the open inner courtyard. The main house loomed out of the gathering gloom, all rough-cut stone and windows shuttered like closed eyes, hiding secrets. His ancestral home looked no different than it had the night he had fled fifty-nine years earlier. He realized now the place never changed, only the people inside came and went. It had been built three-and-a-half centuries ago by the then current Ogema who reputedly had wanted a place away from the government seat in Outuais for his wives and sons.
Outside the open front doors a waiting throng gathered. Composed of at least a half a dozen castes, cloned and programmed to fill specific functions, Selhdun couldn’t remember what half of them did. Not that it mattered. They were there to serve him in any way he wanted.
“My mother wastes no opportunity to play the grand dame,” Selhdun said.
“Already I feel her knives at our back.” Pakal turned to stare out at the crowd. “I do not like the look of this.”
“Even my mother wouldn’t dare anything too obvious.” Selhdun glimpsed glittering spy-eyes within the craggy stone walls and the barest glint of a lasgun mounted under a window arch and wished they made him feel safer. The blue-flame funeral torches on the stone walls cast shadows on the few tendrils of snow that lay in every corner. It lent exposed human skin a ghoulish cast.
“Stupid ritual.” Selhdun glared at the funeral torches that were only lit when a male member of the ruling Ogema died. The last time he had seen them he had been four. His grandfather had died, making his father Ogema. He had thought them pretty then. Now he knew better. How many people here wished the flames burned for him? “Barbaric and pointless.”
Pakal shrugged. “They but seek to find comfort in custom. Hardly pointless.”
“Don’t fool yourself. No one here regrets his passing.”
The snow thickened, and the wind died in the walled-in courtyard. Fat snowflakes descended leisurely, and Selhdun watched them settle everywhere. Unbidden, an image came. The image of another time and another world. Another companion.
Another love.
He shivered and tried to shake off the memories, but they persisted. God, he hadn’t thought of Rauli in years. His eyes closed against remembered pain. Beside him Pakal moved, and the cushioned seat crackled under him.
“What is it, Terik?”
“Nothing,” he lied hoarsely. “Ghosts. That’s all.”
BUY LINK
To learn more about P.A. Brown, check out her website. You'll be glad you did.
I'll be back Wednesday with Raine Delight, a creative author you're sure to enjoy. Unitl then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
Born in Canada, P. A. Brown's approach to life was tempered in the forges of Los Angeles. After eight years in the City of Angels, she was endowed with a fascination for the darker side of life and the professionals who patrol those mean streets.
P.A. considers those years a lifetime's worth of experience that she mines regularly in her novels. She is not afraid to explore the darker sides of her characters and the streets they inhabit, including the ones most people are afraid to walk down alone at night.
Here's an excellent example of her terrific books.
FALL INTO THE NIGHT
P.A. Brown
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-713-7 (Electronic)
ISBN-13: 978-1-60272-777-9 (Paperback)
Amber Quill Press - Amber Allure
BUY LINK
BLURB
The death of his father catapults Terik u Selhdun into the position of Ogema of Tiamat, the planet of his birth. It was a position he rejected years before when he and his autocratic father clashed over Selhdun's homosexuality. Instead, Selhdun became a linked pilot and owner of his own ship, the Necromancer. Linked pilots are the only ones who can take a ship through Jump, a form of hypserspace travel that allows the empire of man, known as the Autarch, to thrive.
War drove the humans off their home world of Terra (Earth). In the subsequent years, the coordinates of the Terran Jumpoint were lost. When they eventually resurface, Selhdun and the Necromancer are hired to transport a group of scientists back to Terra in order to ascertain whether humans can safely return to the planet of their origin.
But numerous forces in and out of government don't want Selhdun to succeed. Troubles plague the expedition, including an assassination attempt and brutal enemies hell-bent on stopping Selhdun and the ship, even as he and his crew make strides in their mission. Yet in Terran space, a new lethal menace awaits, and soon everyone on board the Necromancer discovers the battle to stay alive has only just begun...
EXCERPT
A hard, driving snow scudded out of a sky as bleak and depressing as the fallow fields around them. Selhdun didn’t need to consult Ship to know the weather was going to turn even nastier and soon. He had too many memories of such storms closing in on them.
“Get us inside,” he said to the driver when their vehicle paused at the first Enclave gate for HouseComp to verify his identity.
Selhdun knew at that moment a battery of unseen lasguns was trained on them. He barely felt the actual scan, which read the schematics of his embedded ID and verified his identity against HC’s database.
The lights of a distant village shone through the mounting storm. He tried to think of the village name; had he ever been there? He seemed to remember a harvest festival. The fireworks to honor the Ogema and his children had impressed a seven-year-old Selhdun for years afterward. Kanahchi-Wahnung, that was it. A tiny village full of brightly painted houses like so many other villages that made up the local farming co-ops.
A gust of wind rocked the groundcar. The icy-fingered wind whined as it sought to reach the warm bodies inside. Selhdun huddled within the folds of his coat and waited.
“Trust him to save his dying until the end of the season,” Selhdun said to Pakal. “I could do without weather. I think I deliberately forgot how miserable climate is. Don’t tell me—on Xua this would be a balmy spring day.”
“On Xua the elements are legendary.” Pakal made a pretense of peering out into the growing blizzard. A spray of ice crystals rattled against the car windows. “We rarely had such pleasant weather, in spring or any other season.”
Selhdun shivered and not just from the cold. His muscle already shook from over-exertion. He regretted the impetuousness that had brought him here.
Pakal was right. Selhdun should have turned up the gravity or spent time in the gym. If he had, his heart wouldn’t seem like it was trying to climb out of his chest. Even sitting, it felt like hot spikes were being driven into his calves.
The groundcar crossed the open inner courtyard. The main house loomed out of the gathering gloom, all rough-cut stone and windows shuttered like closed eyes, hiding secrets. His ancestral home looked no different than it had the night he had fled fifty-nine years earlier. He realized now the place never changed, only the people inside came and went. It had been built three-and-a-half centuries ago by the then current Ogema who reputedly had wanted a place away from the government seat in Outuais for his wives and sons.
Outside the open front doors a waiting throng gathered. Composed of at least a half a dozen castes, cloned and programmed to fill specific functions, Selhdun couldn’t remember what half of them did. Not that it mattered. They were there to serve him in any way he wanted.
“My mother wastes no opportunity to play the grand dame,” Selhdun said.
“Already I feel her knives at our back.” Pakal turned to stare out at the crowd. “I do not like the look of this.”
“Even my mother wouldn’t dare anything too obvious.” Selhdun glimpsed glittering spy-eyes within the craggy stone walls and the barest glint of a lasgun mounted under a window arch and wished they made him feel safer. The blue-flame funeral torches on the stone walls cast shadows on the few tendrils of snow that lay in every corner. It lent exposed human skin a ghoulish cast.
“Stupid ritual.” Selhdun glared at the funeral torches that were only lit when a male member of the ruling Ogema died. The last time he had seen them he had been four. His grandfather had died, making his father Ogema. He had thought them pretty then. Now he knew better. How many people here wished the flames burned for him? “Barbaric and pointless.”
Pakal shrugged. “They but seek to find comfort in custom. Hardly pointless.”
“Don’t fool yourself. No one here regrets his passing.”
The snow thickened, and the wind died in the walled-in courtyard. Fat snowflakes descended leisurely, and Selhdun watched them settle everywhere. Unbidden, an image came. The image of another time and another world. Another companion.
Another love.
He shivered and tried to shake off the memories, but they persisted. God, he hadn’t thought of Rauli in years. His eyes closed against remembered pain. Beside him Pakal moved, and the cushioned seat crackled under him.
“What is it, Terik?”
“Nothing,” he lied hoarsely. “Ghosts. That’s all.”
BUY LINK
To learn more about P.A. Brown, check out her website. You'll be glad you did.
I'll be back Wednesday with Raine Delight, a creative author you're sure to enjoy. Unitl then...
Happy Writing!
Sloane Taylor
Sweet as Honey...Hotter than Hell
www.sloanetaylor.com
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