I wish I had a Happy New Year post for you. And I do wish you the best in the New Year!
But instead I have bit of houskeeping to try and take care of. Sadly my computer has finally bit the dust. (I wish I had a boat).
This has caused me major problems.
I had several pdf copies on my computer. I still have your emails but since I do not know who has sent pdfs or even the books names it is taking hours to recover them.
I am also learning to use a tablet for posting. It is not easy for this grandma but I am muddling through.
Also I did a dumb thing and put notes for my Jan and Feb guess where? on my computer dawng I wish I had just gone and got a new calendar.
I am going to check your tour pages for my assignments but again that is a tedious process
which leaves me less time to read.
I hope everyone will give me More Grace as I try to fix these problems.
I do hope to get back to normal as I continue to learns this tablet.
I will be emailing you all to let you know what is going on.
In the meantime you may be seeing spotlights in place of reviews while I work out the kinks.
Thanks for your patience.
Happy New Year!
My Journey Began With Trixie Beldon
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Friday, December 21, 2018
Bait by Samantha Keith-Silver Dagger Tour-Review
About the book
There are good guys, and then there are highly trained good guys—the kind who make the world a safer, sexier place . . .
Former military and ex-FBI agent Ethan Worth is searching for a new way to serve and protect. On a break in Beaufort, North Carolina, he just may have found it. It starts with saving a tipsy damsel in distress from a shady troublemaker. But it ends with the surprisingly sober beauty outraged by his rescue. That’s all Ethan needs for his expert instincts to kick into high gear . . .
Riley Jones is back in Beaufort for one reason only: to find her missing best friend, Hanna. If that means using herself as bait for the kind of guy who’d prey on a vulnerable young woman, so be it. She doesn’t need a rugged knight in shining armor like Ethan distracting her, and she doesn’t want his help. But it turns out she needs it. And together, as the heat between them rises, so does the danger. Until both their lives are on the line . . .
Former military and ex-FBI agent Ethan Worth is searching for a new way to serve and protect. On a break in Beaufort, North Carolina, he just may have found it. It starts with saving a tipsy damsel in distress from a shady troublemaker. But it ends with the surprisingly sober beauty outraged by his rescue. That’s all Ethan needs for his expert instincts to kick into high gear . . .
Riley Jones is back in Beaufort for one reason only: to find her missing best friend, Hanna. If that means using herself as bait for the kind of guy who’d prey on a vulnerable young woman, so be it. She doesn’t need a rugged knight in shining armor like Ethan distracting her, and she doesn’t want his help. But it turns out she needs it. And together, as the heat between them rises, so does the danger. Until both their lives are on the line . . .
Read an excerpt
Lord Jesus, it was her. She hadn’t seen him yet, thank god.
Ethan pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes and rounded his shoulders over his glass of rum and Coke.
He kept his head low, but his eyes trained on her. Riley wore denim cutoff shorts and a white lace crop top that revealed her flat, lightly tanned stomach. The man beside her passed her another shot. She tossed it back expertly. Ethan slid his thumb over the cool glass in his hand. That’s two now, and before the shots she’d been sipping on a brightly colored cocktail. That was a lot of alcohol for someone her size.
She passed the man her empty shot glass. He slid an arm around her back, inching closer to her. For a flicker of an instant, her face changed. Her eyes grew small and her jaw tensed. A shaky smile returned when he touched her chin and turned her face toward him. Her fingers toyed with a long tendril of her hair that fell in soft waves around her breasts.
The man tucked her hair over her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She bit her lip.
Shit.
Ethan tightened his hand on the sweating glass. She didn’t know the dude. All he had to go by was instinct and his experience on reading people. One thing was for sure, the asshole was all over her. If he was her boyfriend, he wouldn’t be trying so damn hard.
Dammit, he shouldn’t care. She wasn’t his problem. Since he’d moved in next door to her a couple weeks ago, she’d been friendly but completely disinterested in his attempts at small talk. Not that he’d done anything but be polite to her.
Riley had a wall of ice behind her green eyes and tight smile. No one was getting beyond that guard…except the douchebag that kept touching her. The man trailed a finger over Riley’s collarbone, his face tucked closely to her ear. Her cheeks turned a ripe shade of pink. She ducked her chin away from his face, but the man brought his hand to her jaw and turned it sharply toward him. The planes of the dude’s face turned hard and his fingertips held her face inches from his. Even at this distance, Ethan could see that he dug his grip too deep, making her soft skin pucker around his fingertips. His hold demanded her obedience.
Who the hell did this guy think he was handling a woman like that? And more importantly, why was she standing for it?
He lowered his hand to her bicep and rotated her body into him. With Riley’s back to Ethan, he watched as the predator smoothed his hands over her ass. She grabbed his wrists, shifting his hands to rest on her hips.
The guy put them right back on the rump of her shorts.
An iron fist of disgust gripped Ethan’s lungs. The prick was insistent and downright rough. His instincts went to war. Getting involved wouldn’t do him any good, but something wasn’t right.
“Mind if I have a seat?” A tall woman in a tight red dress blocked his view. He lifted his eyes to her face and then dragged them away. On any other night, he’d be game. Hell, he’d be more than game. But tonight, he couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde across the room.
“I’m waiting for someone, but you’re welcome to have a seat.” Manners forced the words from his mouth. He shifted his gaze around her full, sexy hips to locate the woman across the bar. His disinterest didn’t sway the woman in red. She pulled out a chair and sat. Her legs crossed and uncrossed.
“You’ve been waiting an awful long time.” She rested her chin on her palm. Warm, olive eyes met his. God, she was beautiful. Her lips were full and painted in a warm neutral tone, her dark hair curled around her exposed cleavage.
Every male hormone in his body screamed at him for not taking an interest. But he couldn’t. Not when his sixth sense was on high alert. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t have any clue as to what the slimy bastard
was planning on doing with Riley. He forced his attention to the woman in front of him. “I’m sorry, I’m distracted tonight and not in the mood for conversation.”
A slow smile crept over her face. “I’m not in the mood for conversation either.”
Jesus, she was direct. He liked direct, he liked women who knew what they wanted and took it. Sex in particular. He was here on vacation to clear his head and figure out his next steps and he wanted to enjoy it. And that meant sex. Lots of it. Of course, this would happen tonight, when he wouldn’t be able to act. Because of Riley. Just his luck.
The waitress stepped up to his visitor, and propped a tray on her hip. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a mojito, please.”
Now he was buying her a drink? How in the hell had that happened? He craned his neck around the two women. A new couple stood in the same spot where Riley and the asshole had stood only seconds before.
“And for you?”
He waved his glass at her. “Rum and Coke.”
His eyes scanned the crowd. The waitress took the empty glass and sidled around the table. He leaned in his seat, not caring if he was being inconspicuous or not. Women gyrated on the dance floor, the thumping of the bass vibrated through the soles of his shoes, racking up his pulse.
The top of Riley’s blond head passed through a gap in the throng of bodies. The man she’d been with had his fingers circled around her elbow, leading her to the exit.
Ethan leapt to his feet, opened his wallet, and slapped some bills on the table. “Have a good night.” He moved his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes on his target. The woman he’d left behind scoffed and made a rude remark.
He didn’t care.
Ethan pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes and rounded his shoulders over his glass of rum and Coke.
He kept his head low, but his eyes trained on her. Riley wore denim cutoff shorts and a white lace crop top that revealed her flat, lightly tanned stomach. The man beside her passed her another shot. She tossed it back expertly. Ethan slid his thumb over the cool glass in his hand. That’s two now, and before the shots she’d been sipping on a brightly colored cocktail. That was a lot of alcohol for someone her size.
She passed the man her empty shot glass. He slid an arm around her back, inching closer to her. For a flicker of an instant, her face changed. Her eyes grew small and her jaw tensed. A shaky smile returned when he touched her chin and turned her face toward him. Her fingers toyed with a long tendril of her hair that fell in soft waves around her breasts.
The man tucked her hair over her shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She bit her lip.
Shit.
Ethan tightened his hand on the sweating glass. She didn’t know the dude. All he had to go by was instinct and his experience on reading people. One thing was for sure, the asshole was all over her. If he was her boyfriend, he wouldn’t be trying so damn hard.
Dammit, he shouldn’t care. She wasn’t his problem. Since he’d moved in next door to her a couple weeks ago, she’d been friendly but completely disinterested in his attempts at small talk. Not that he’d done anything but be polite to her.
Riley had a wall of ice behind her green eyes and tight smile. No one was getting beyond that guard…except the douchebag that kept touching her. The man trailed a finger over Riley’s collarbone, his face tucked closely to her ear. Her cheeks turned a ripe shade of pink. She ducked her chin away from his face, but the man brought his hand to her jaw and turned it sharply toward him. The planes of the dude’s face turned hard and his fingertips held her face inches from his. Even at this distance, Ethan could see that he dug his grip too deep, making her soft skin pucker around his fingertips. His hold demanded her obedience.
Who the hell did this guy think he was handling a woman like that? And more importantly, why was she standing for it?
He lowered his hand to her bicep and rotated her body into him. With Riley’s back to Ethan, he watched as the predator smoothed his hands over her ass. She grabbed his wrists, shifting his hands to rest on her hips.
The guy put them right back on the rump of her shorts.
An iron fist of disgust gripped Ethan’s lungs. The prick was insistent and downright rough. His instincts went to war. Getting involved wouldn’t do him any good, but something wasn’t right.
“Mind if I have a seat?” A tall woman in a tight red dress blocked his view. He lifted his eyes to her face and then dragged them away. On any other night, he’d be game. Hell, he’d be more than game. But tonight, he couldn’t take his eyes off the blonde across the room.
“I’m waiting for someone, but you’re welcome to have a seat.” Manners forced the words from his mouth. He shifted his gaze around her full, sexy hips to locate the woman across the bar. His disinterest didn’t sway the woman in red. She pulled out a chair and sat. Her legs crossed and uncrossed.
“You’ve been waiting an awful long time.” She rested her chin on her palm. Warm, olive eyes met his. God, she was beautiful. Her lips were full and painted in a warm neutral tone, her dark hair curled around her exposed cleavage.
Every male hormone in his body screamed at him for not taking an interest. But he couldn’t. Not when his sixth sense was on high alert. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t have any clue as to what the slimy bastard
was planning on doing with Riley. He forced his attention to the woman in front of him. “I’m sorry, I’m distracted tonight and not in the mood for conversation.”
A slow smile crept over her face. “I’m not in the mood for conversation either.”
Jesus, she was direct. He liked direct, he liked women who knew what they wanted and took it. Sex in particular. He was here on vacation to clear his head and figure out his next steps and he wanted to enjoy it. And that meant sex. Lots of it. Of course, this would happen tonight, when he wouldn’t be able to act. Because of Riley. Just his luck.
The waitress stepped up to his visitor, and propped a tray on her hip. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a mojito, please.”
Now he was buying her a drink? How in the hell had that happened? He craned his neck around the two women. A new couple stood in the same spot where Riley and the asshole had stood only seconds before.
“And for you?”
He waved his glass at her. “Rum and Coke.”
His eyes scanned the crowd. The waitress took the empty glass and sidled around the table. He leaned in his seat, not caring if he was being inconspicuous or not. Women gyrated on the dance floor, the thumping of the bass vibrated through the soles of his shoes, racking up his pulse.
The top of Riley’s blond head passed through a gap in the throng of bodies. The man she’d been with had his fingers circled around her elbow, leading her to the exit.
Ethan leapt to his feet, opened his wallet, and slapped some bills on the table. “Have a good night.” He moved his way through the crowd, keeping his eyes on his target. The woman he’d left behind scoffed and made a rude remark.
He didn’t care.
And I thought
I knew I would like this one. But I didn't like it I loved it! This
is the type of book/storyline/plot that is my favorite.
I love a good Romantic Suspense and Bait is just that!
I couldn't put it down. From page 1 this reader was drawn into the story and these characters.
Ethan and Riley were fun and somewhat fascinating characters.
Ethan was just a great guy. The kind of guy that stands up for what's right. The kind of guy that that is ready to help a damsel
in distress. Even if she isn't too keen on his help. In the beginning
Riley thwarts Ethan's attempts to keep her out of trouble.
Eventually things get out of control as the bad guy begins to focus his attention on Riley and she realizes her idea to capture him herself and find her friend Hanna is way more than she can handle.
Riley is a surprising character. She is strong and isn't afraid to step into to danger. Although she isn't very worldly nor is she the least bit trained.
For her sake her new next door neighbor is. Ethan wastes no time getting into protector mode and then into investigator mode.
I have to admit I did figure out who the bad guy was. But that is o.k. because it just fit and was easy to figure out. There were not
alot of suspects.
There are a couple bedroom scenes that would make MaMa blush but she'd be turning the pages all the while!
Bait was a great read and I have to say was one of my favorites for the year.
If you like a good Romantic Suspense check out this series.
I have not had the chance to read book 1 and that didn't effect my enjoyment. This series is on my TBR list!
I received a complimentary copy.
My review will appear on retail sites and Good Reads.
Buy the book
Visit the tour
To read more reviews and enter the Giveaway click here.
Thursday, December 20, 2018
Cat Cafe by Mollie Hunt Great Escapes Tour-Review/Giveaway
About the book
A body is discovered on the floor of the cat café, and all the black cats are missing!
Sixty-something cat shelter volunteer Lynley Cannon always finds more trouble than a cat in catnip, but this time it’s not about her. Someone is targeting very senior citizens, and when Bea Landrew, elderly owner of the Blue Cat café turns up dead, Lynley’s mom Carol could be next.
Handsome Detective Devon is looking for a link between the victims when he makes a different sort of connection— with Lynley! It’s been a long time since the cat lady had romance in her life, but while her mom is in danger, the case comes first.
It appears the cat café will go the way of its deceased owner, but Bea’s grandson, a slick Miami businessman, steps in at the last minute. Arthur is not a cat person so why would he bother? Romeo, the big Russian Blue, senses ulterior motives, but who will listen to a cat?
A black cat rescue, an antique photograph, an elaborate payback. Is this killer seeking justice or vengeance? With death as the objective, the results are the same.
And others are saying
This book will test your observational skills and deductive reasoning…These characters have additional depth and personality.
~Laura’s Interests
~Laura’s Interests
And I thought
I am sorry I missed the first 5. Cat Cafe was a fun read. Adding those other 4 to my Santa please list!
I enjoyed the theme and the locale.
The characters are great and make this one a great read.
The plot/story line makes for a fast paced read that might keep you
guessing and turning the pages all the way to the end.
Written as a standalone but you'll probably want to read the others.
I received a complimentary copy.
My review will appear on retail sites and good reads.
I enjoyed the theme and the locale.
The characters are great and make this one a great read.
The plot/story line makes for a fast paced read that might keep you
guessing and turning the pages all the way to the end.
Written as a standalone but you'll probably want to read the others.
I received a complimentary copy.
My review will appear on retail sites and good reads.
Buy the book
Visit the tour
Holiday Hijinks by Katherine Moore-Silver Dagger Tour
About the book
It’s Christmas, and this year Emily Halliday is trying something new at the struggling revival movie theater she runs for her great-grandmother. After all, how many times can you show It’s a Wonderful Life?
Emily was hoping to make a little profit on “Holiday Hijinks,” her “counter-programming Christmas” event. What she never expected—plot twist—is that an unexpected guest will turn her own life into a romantic comedy.
Holiday Hijinks is the first in a new series of cozy romances set in the small Pacific Northwest town of Silver Birch, Washington. A short read (15K) for a busy time, Holiday Hijinks introduces a whole new cast of characters while bringing back “cameos” from the “Meredith Manor Hotel” books, which are also set in Silver Birch.
If you love movies and food and romance as cozy as flannel jammies, Holiday Hijinks is the Christmas read for you.
Emily was hoping to make a little profit on “Holiday Hijinks,” her “counter-programming Christmas” event. What she never expected—plot twist—is that an unexpected guest will turn her own life into a romantic comedy.
Holiday Hijinks is the first in a new series of cozy romances set in the small Pacific Northwest town of Silver Birch, Washington. A short read (15K) for a busy time, Holiday Hijinks introduces a whole new cast of characters while bringing back “cameos” from the “Meredith Manor Hotel” books, which are also set in Silver Birch.
If you love movies and food and romance as cozy as flannel jammies, Holiday Hijinks is the Christmas read for you.
Read an excerpt
Max had been right. The announcement that an actual Hollywood insider would be in attendance had caused quite a stir and had helped me sell all those tickets.
Zac Orwell was a filmmaker whose USC senior project had snagged all kinds of awards at the festivals that count and turned him into the industry’s flavor of the month for the next year. He’d used that year to make an atmospheric fairy tale based on an obscure French novel that had never been translated into English, which made it a tough sell to audiences in the U.S., who notoriously hate reading subtitles.
Though dreamily beautiful—critics compared the work to movies by Christophe Gans and commercials by Bruno Aveillan—the movie’s box office had been lost in translation. Still, there were thirteen slots to fill for the movie marathon and Her Golden Eyes (Ses Yeux D’Or) had been enthusiastically welcomed to the lineup. Who knew there were so many Francophiles in one small Pacific Northwest town?
Zac was scheduled to speak at midnight on Christmas Eve between his movie and a screening of the original Westworld. Nella thoroughly approved of that choice. She was a fan of the series but though she loved Ed Harris as the Man in Black--He should have won an Oscar for Pollock—she considered Yul Brynner the sexiest man she’d ever met in real life. (“Don’t tell PaPa,” she would caution me when I was young, even though my great-grandfather had died years before I was born.)
Anyway, Zac…
Max got him comped at Meredith Manor, and one of Nella’s friends arranged for him to get a free rental car through his grandson’s Enterprise franchise.
Local restaurants offered complimentary meal vouchers for his stay. A reporter from the local paper called about setting up an interview. I arranged for a driver to bring him up from the airport in Seattle, and that was when the trouble started.
“Mr. Orwell will require a town car,” his rep told me, “dark blue, not black.”
“Why?” I said, which is apparently not a question they ask very often in Hollywood because after a short pause, the rep replied with a heavy sigh. “He prefers it that way,” she said in a tone that suggested the topic was closed.
“Okay,” I said, wondering where I could get a blue town car on short notice. There was only one limo service in town and several Christmas weddings had already booked it. Fortunately, an antique car collector Nella knew offered the use of his pride and joy—a 1932 Auburn Boattail Speedster. “Just like the one Clive Cussler has in his collection,” Bailey told me. He also said he would be accompanying his designated driver—his grandson—to the airport for the pickup. I decided not to mention that to the rep because I’d no sooner sorted out the limo situation than she called me back with a huge laundry list of other “requests.”
Zac wanted a masseuse on-call.
He wanted a particular brand of artisanal spring water available to him backstage.
“Our local water is fabulous,” I said, thinking Are you kidding? She wasn’t.
The list went on, with increasingly outrageous demands. It took everything in my power not to ask her if he wanted the brown M&Ms taken out of the candy bowl, a contract rider made infamous by the 80s rock group Van Halen.
“He’ll need his space in the green room,” the rep said. “He prefers solitude before public appearances.”
The Halliday doesn’t have a green room, but I figured I could stash him upstairs in my apartment if he needed somewhere to chillout before doing his Q and A.
“Okay,” I said.
“And he’ll want a variety of nutritious snacks available to him.”
“No problem,” I said because after all, a revival movie house is basically a box surrounding a concession stand. Even at the multiplex, it is all about the snacks, which are usually marked up outrageously. Here at the Halliday, the goodies on offer are enticing enough people come in to buy them even if they aren’t interested in seeing a movie.
We’re just down the street from a mixed-use building and we’re open early, so we get the apartment dwellers grabbing a pastry for breakfast and the office workers looking for a sweet treat to get them through the afternoon. We don’t do lattes or frou coffee milkshakes, but I buy my coffee beans from Sagebrush Coffee and grind it myself and I’ve had people tell me it’s the best coffee they’ve ever had. I keep a pot going in the lobby at all times although I never developed a taste for the caffeinated beverage myself.
In the afternoon, we get kids headed home from school stopping in because when you’re a teenager, it’s a long time between lunch and dinner and they can grab a soft pretzel or a home-made brownie to keep them from dying of hunger for the next few hours.
I make a Costco run about twice a month to restock the candy and the chips and the bottled salsa I pour right into the paper boats with the heated corn chips and cheese.
Snacks were not going to be a problem.
Mr. Orwell was going to be the problem.
“Mr. Orwell is allergic to gluten,” the rep said on what was the fourth or fifth phone call of the day. At least I think it was his rep. Zac seemed to have a whole team looking after his every need and they all sounded alike—female and frazzled and unhappy.
“We’ve got gluten-free, vegan cookies and donuts,” I said. “And nut chips for the humus if he can’t eat pita chips.”
“I don’t know about the humus,” the rep said.
“There’s no gluten in humus,” I said.
“Garlic upsets his stomach,” the rep said with another big sigh.
At this point I felt like sighting too, but I was beginning to feel sorry for the rep, whose name, she’d told me, was Jeni.
“Jeni, it’s going to be okay. We’ll take good care of your guy,” I said.
There was a sound on the other end of the phone like Jeni was e lighting a cigarette.
I wondered where she was. I hadn’t lived in Los Angeles for more than five years but even then, you couldn’t smoke inside office buildings.
“It’ll be fine,” I added.
“You have no idea,” Jeni muttered, which did not inspire confidence.
I was beginning to wonder if it had been such a good idea to invite someone who seriously referred to himself as “Zac Attack.”
Zac Orwell was a filmmaker whose USC senior project had snagged all kinds of awards at the festivals that count and turned him into the industry’s flavor of the month for the next year. He’d used that year to make an atmospheric fairy tale based on an obscure French novel that had never been translated into English, which made it a tough sell to audiences in the U.S., who notoriously hate reading subtitles.
Though dreamily beautiful—critics compared the work to movies by Christophe Gans and commercials by Bruno Aveillan—the movie’s box office had been lost in translation. Still, there were thirteen slots to fill for the movie marathon and Her Golden Eyes (Ses Yeux D’Or) had been enthusiastically welcomed to the lineup. Who knew there were so many Francophiles in one small Pacific Northwest town?
Zac was scheduled to speak at midnight on Christmas Eve between his movie and a screening of the original Westworld. Nella thoroughly approved of that choice. She was a fan of the series but though she loved Ed Harris as the Man in Black--He should have won an Oscar for Pollock—she considered Yul Brynner the sexiest man she’d ever met in real life. (“Don’t tell PaPa,” she would caution me when I was young, even though my great-grandfather had died years before I was born.)
Anyway, Zac…
Max got him comped at Meredith Manor, and one of Nella’s friends arranged for him to get a free rental car through his grandson’s Enterprise franchise.
Local restaurants offered complimentary meal vouchers for his stay. A reporter from the local paper called about setting up an interview. I arranged for a driver to bring him up from the airport in Seattle, and that was when the trouble started.
“Mr. Orwell will require a town car,” his rep told me, “dark blue, not black.”
“Why?” I said, which is apparently not a question they ask very often in Hollywood because after a short pause, the rep replied with a heavy sigh. “He prefers it that way,” she said in a tone that suggested the topic was closed.
“Okay,” I said, wondering where I could get a blue town car on short notice. There was only one limo service in town and several Christmas weddings had already booked it. Fortunately, an antique car collector Nella knew offered the use of his pride and joy—a 1932 Auburn Boattail Speedster. “Just like the one Clive Cussler has in his collection,” Bailey told me. He also said he would be accompanying his designated driver—his grandson—to the airport for the pickup. I decided not to mention that to the rep because I’d no sooner sorted out the limo situation than she called me back with a huge laundry list of other “requests.”
Zac wanted a masseuse on-call.
He wanted a particular brand of artisanal spring water available to him backstage.
“Our local water is fabulous,” I said, thinking Are you kidding? She wasn’t.
The list went on, with increasingly outrageous demands. It took everything in my power not to ask her if he wanted the brown M&Ms taken out of the candy bowl, a contract rider made infamous by the 80s rock group Van Halen.
“He’ll need his space in the green room,” the rep said. “He prefers solitude before public appearances.”
The Halliday doesn’t have a green room, but I figured I could stash him upstairs in my apartment if he needed somewhere to chillout before doing his Q and A.
“Okay,” I said.
“And he’ll want a variety of nutritious snacks available to him.”
“No problem,” I said because after all, a revival movie house is basically a box surrounding a concession stand. Even at the multiplex, it is all about the snacks, which are usually marked up outrageously. Here at the Halliday, the goodies on offer are enticing enough people come in to buy them even if they aren’t interested in seeing a movie.
We’re just down the street from a mixed-use building and we’re open early, so we get the apartment dwellers grabbing a pastry for breakfast and the office workers looking for a sweet treat to get them through the afternoon. We don’t do lattes or frou coffee milkshakes, but I buy my coffee beans from Sagebrush Coffee and grind it myself and I’ve had people tell me it’s the best coffee they’ve ever had. I keep a pot going in the lobby at all times although I never developed a taste for the caffeinated beverage myself.
In the afternoon, we get kids headed home from school stopping in because when you’re a teenager, it’s a long time between lunch and dinner and they can grab a soft pretzel or a home-made brownie to keep them from dying of hunger for the next few hours.
I make a Costco run about twice a month to restock the candy and the chips and the bottled salsa I pour right into the paper boats with the heated corn chips and cheese.
Snacks were not going to be a problem.
Mr. Orwell was going to be the problem.
“Mr. Orwell is allergic to gluten,” the rep said on what was the fourth or fifth phone call of the day. At least I think it was his rep. Zac seemed to have a whole team looking after his every need and they all sounded alike—female and frazzled and unhappy.
“We’ve got gluten-free, vegan cookies and donuts,” I said. “And nut chips for the humus if he can’t eat pita chips.”
“I don’t know about the humus,” the rep said.
“There’s no gluten in humus,” I said.
“Garlic upsets his stomach,” the rep said with another big sigh.
At this point I felt like sighting too, but I was beginning to feel sorry for the rep, whose name, she’d told me, was Jeni.
“Jeni, it’s going to be okay. We’ll take good care of your guy,” I said.
There was a sound on the other end of the phone like Jeni was e lighting a cigarette.
I wondered where she was. I hadn’t lived in Los Angeles for more than five years but even then, you couldn’t smoke inside office buildings.
“It’ll be fine,” I added.
“You have no idea,” Jeni muttered, which did not inspire confidence.
I was beginning to wonder if it had been such a good idea to invite someone who seriously referred to himself as “Zac Attack.”
Author Guest post
Let the Feasting Begin
I mostly grew up in Virginia, so Christmas meant visits to my maternal grandparents’ house where my mother and aunts turned the occasion into a foodie version of the Olympics. Mickey looks strong coming into the sides with her corn pudding but contenders Helen and Mabel could offer her a real challenge with their bacon-wrapped Brussels sprouts and green beans almandine.
In most families, everyone would divide up the dishes and one person would bring the sweet potatoes and one person would bring the mashed potatoes and so on. Amateurs the women of the Moore family would scoff. And so my mother would bring grated sweet potato pudding, Aunt Mabel would bring the candied yams, and Aunt Helen would offer sweet potato timbales with crushed cornflakes on the outside and marshmallows hidden inside like sweet lava.
It was the same with the other side dishes—especially for potatoes. There were always mashed potatoes, potatoes roasted with root vegetables until crackly and delicious, and boiled red potatoes with butter and parsley. (The day after Christmas morning, my mother always sliced up the leftover boiled potatoes and fried them with onions for breakfast. I was convinced she made extra just so there would be plenty for breakfast.)
The one thing everyone agreed on was pie. No one really liked mincemeat pie or pumpkin pie so the majority ruled and the dessert was pecan pie. I loved pecan pie, so I was fine going along with everyone. But I also love pumpkin pie, just not enough to buy a whole pie for myself.
Imagine my delight when I discovered the joys of baking things in a mug. This Pumpkin Pie for One became one of my favorite solo holiday indulgences.
I mostly grew up in Virginia, so Christmas meant visits to my maternal grandparents’ house where my mother and aunts turned the occasion into a foodie version of the Olympics. Mickey looks strong coming into the sides with her corn pudding but contenders Helen and Mabel could offer her a real challenge with their bacon-wrapped Brussels sprouts and green beans almandine.
In most families, everyone would divide up the dishes and one person would bring the sweet potatoes and one person would bring the mashed potatoes and so on. Amateurs the women of the Moore family would scoff. And so my mother would bring grated sweet potato pudding, Aunt Mabel would bring the candied yams, and Aunt Helen would offer sweet potato timbales with crushed cornflakes on the outside and marshmallows hidden inside like sweet lava.
It was the same with the other side dishes—especially for potatoes. There were always mashed potatoes, potatoes roasted with root vegetables until crackly and delicious, and boiled red potatoes with butter and parsley. (The day after Christmas morning, my mother always sliced up the leftover boiled potatoes and fried them with onions for breakfast. I was convinced she made extra just so there would be plenty for breakfast.)
The one thing everyone agreed on was pie. No one really liked mincemeat pie or pumpkin pie so the majority ruled and the dessert was pecan pie. I loved pecan pie, so I was fine going along with everyone. But I also love pumpkin pie, just not enough to buy a whole pie for myself.
Imagine my delight when I discovered the joys of baking things in a mug. This Pumpkin Pie for One became one of my favorite solo holiday indulgences.
Pumpkin Pie For One
1 microwave-safe mug (10 ounces or larger)
For crust
1 tsp. butter, preferably unsalted
2-3 small gingersnap cookies, crushed fine
Melt the butter in the bottom of the mug. (Use the low power setting)
Stir in the crushed gingersnaps and press into the bottom of the mug to make a crust.
For filling
1 egg
1 Tbsp. whole milk
2 Tbsp. light brown sugar
1/3 cup unsweetened canned pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling)
½ tsp. cinnamon
¼ tsp. nutmeg
¼ tsp. ginger (May substitute 1 tsp. of pumpkin pie spice for the cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger)
Instructions:
Mix the milk, egg, brown sugar, pumpkin, and spices together in a small bowl.
Pour “pie filling” into the mug over the crust.
Put the mug on a microwave-safe plate and nuke at full power for 2 ½ to 5 minutes. (Cooking times vary—check on it after two minutes and remove the “pie” when a knife comes out clean.)
1 microwave-safe mug (10 ounces or larger)
For crust
1 tsp. butter, preferably unsalted
2-3 small gingersnap cookies, crushed fine
Melt the butter in the bottom of the mug. (Use the low power setting)
Stir in the crushed gingersnaps and press into the bottom of the mug to make a crust.
For filling
1 egg
1 Tbsp. whole milk
2 Tbsp. light brown sugar
1/3 cup unsweetened canned pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling)
½ tsp. cinnamon
¼ tsp. nutmeg
¼ tsp. ginger (May substitute 1 tsp. of pumpkin pie spice for the cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger)
Instructions:
Mix the milk, egg, brown sugar, pumpkin, and spices together in a small bowl.
Pour “pie filling” into the mug over the crust.
Put the mug on a microwave-safe plate and nuke at full power for 2 ½ to 5 minutes. (Cooking times vary—check on it after two minutes and remove the “pie” when a knife comes out clean.)
And I thought
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kickoff at Silver Dagger Book Tours
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Nov 28
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Secret Cravings
A Pinch of Bookdust
Nov 29
Lisa Book Blog – GUEST POST
Mythical Books
Nov 30
All the Ups and Downs – GUEST POST
Romance Novel Giveaways
A Modern Day Fairy Tale
Dec 1
2 chicks and a book
3 Partners in Shopping, Nana, Mommy, &, Sissy, Too!
Books,Dreams,Life
Dec 2
Lukten av trykksverte
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Books, Authors, Blogs
Dec 3
Susan Heim on Writing
Always Love Me Some Books Blog
books are love
Dec 4
A Mama's Corner of the World
Twisted Book Ramblings
Book Review Virginia Lee
Dec 5
The World Was Hers for the Reading
The Book Dragon
Books all things paranormal and romance
Dec 6
Character Madness and Musings
Yearwood La Novela
Bookish Reviews
Dec 7
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Dec 8
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T's Stuff
Dec 9
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Anna del C. Dye official page – REVIEW
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Dec 14
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Dec 15
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Dec 17
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Saturday, December 15, 2018
A Timeless Celebration by Dianne Ascroft-Great Escapes Tour-Giveaway
A Timeless Celebration (Century Cottage Cozy Mysteries)
Cozy Mystery
1st in Series
Self Published (October 25, 2018)
Print Length: 245 pages
ASIN: B07HF847NN
About the book
A small town, a big party, a stolen gift. When an artefact from the Titanic is stolen before her town’s 150th anniversary celebration, it’s up to Lois Stone to catch the thief.
Middle-aged widow Lois has moved from bustling Toronto to tranquil Fenwater and is settling into her new life away from the dangers of the city. Then two events happen that shatter her serenity: her house is burgled and an antique watch belonging to a Titanic survivor is stolen from the local museum. Her best friend, Marge, was responsible for the watch’s safekeeping until its official presentation to the museum at the town’s 150th anniversary party, and its disappearance will jeopardise her job and the museum’s future. Lois won’t let her friend take the blame and the consequences for the theft. She’s determined to find the watch in time to save her best friend’s job, the museum’s future and the town’s 150th anniversary celebration.
And so begins a week of new friends, apple and cinnamon muffins, calico cats, midnight intruders, shadowy caprine companions and more than one person with a reason to steal the watch, set against the backdrop of century houses on leafy residential streets, the swirling melodies of bagpipes, a shimmering heat haze and the burble of cool water.
And others are saying
The first thing I observed about the book was the writing. It is poetic and charming. I loved Ascroft’s storytelling style – unique and precise.
~The Book Decoder
~The Book Decoder
. . . it is a heartwarming delight with really well-developed characters and such a beautiful setting.
~Mallory Heart’s Cozies
~Mallory Heart’s Cozies
And I thought
It's always fun to get into a series at the beginning.
A Timeless Celebration was a good start.
The main characters Lois and Marge were old friends reunited
in the small town.
The story/plot followed the theft of a watch from the Titantic.
Apparently Lois has a penchant for sleuthing because she
encourages Marge not to tell anyone the watch has gone missing.
The plot takes some twists but it was easy to figure out who did it.
It was the why that was the mystery.
Not really having any history with the towns folks Lois has no
problem suspecting a few.
There is another mystery that the reader might not expect and that was the resident ghost in the house that Lois has just purchased and moved into. The ghost ends up helping Lois as the real villain hangs around while trying to retrieve evidence that Lois unknowingly has.
There is a little romance simmering between Lois and Bruce the
handyman who helps catch the bad guy.
A Timeless Celebration is a quick read once you get into and
want to figure out who did it?
I received a complimentary copy.
My review will appear on Amazon and Good Reads.
Buy the book
It's always fun to get into a series at the beginning.
A Timeless Celebration was a good start.
The main characters Lois and Marge were old friends reunited
in the small town.
The story/plot followed the theft of a watch from the Titantic.
Apparently Lois has a penchant for sleuthing because she
encourages Marge not to tell anyone the watch has gone missing.
The plot takes some twists but it was easy to figure out who did it.
It was the why that was the mystery.
Not really having any history with the towns folks Lois has no
problem suspecting a few.
There is another mystery that the reader might not expect and that was the resident ghost in the house that Lois has just purchased and moved into. The ghost ends up helping Lois as the real villain hangs around while trying to retrieve evidence that Lois unknowingly has.
There is a little romance simmering between Lois and Bruce the
handyman who helps catch the bad guy.
A Timeless Celebration is a quick read once you get into and
want to figure out who did it?
I received a complimentary copy.
My review will appear on Amazon and Good Reads.
Buy the book
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