Spooky Mommy Magic by Sweet Romance Author Catherine Castle...

I got a text message from my daughter the other day. 

“I need your Mommy magic,” she said. “Help me find my missing items. Text me and let me know where they are.” 

She was looking for: a pill cutter, a monkey necklace, and a pair of orange-handled scissors she travels with. 

Her Dad told me to text her that they would be in the last place she would look. I did, but then I sent her the locations of the items. 

“The pill cutter will be on a shelf, possibly with some bottles. The necklace is hanging from something, and the scissors are in your kit bag, train case, or a suitcase pocket,” I said. A few minutes later my daughter’s text came back.

“The pill cutter was with other bottles of hubby’s medicine, in a ziplock bag. I told him, ‘Dang, she’s good!!!’when I read your description.” Hah! Mama’s still got the Mommy Magic! 

A few days later she told me she found the scissors in a travel bag. 

Then she called and said she’d lost her pill case. I saw the hallway bookshelves. So she went on a house-wide search looking on all the book shelves. 

When she couldn’t find the item, she called back and said, “Nope. What else did you see? What colors?” 

“Blue,” I said. “Like a blue carpet.” 

“I said the pill case was blue, Mom,” she said. 

“I don’t remember that,” I replied. “I just know I saw blue when you asked me where it was.”

"But the hall carpet’s not blue,” she replied.

“Well, I saw blue. Look for it around something blue.” 

And they were off on another search. A few minutes later, she texts me a photo of a popcorn box with the message, “Ur all wrong about the carpet.”

But I was right about the blue! 

They found her pill box, in front of the popcorn box, which is mostly blue. I missed the carpet, but, Hey, I got the color right! 

At the writing of this post, I don’t know if she found the necklace where I predicted, but 99-percent of the time when she sends me on a long-distance hunt for lost items, I can see the general location of the lost items. I have no idea why I can do this. When she asks me to find a lost item, a picture pops up in my brain. I go with it. I have to say the first picture I see, even if it makes no sense—like it’s in a small, dark place. That was a real response once, and she found the item in a black, velvet bag after asking me what color I saw in the vision. Or if I envision something that is in my own house, like where my own pill cutter resides—on a shelf—possibly with other bottles—I still go with that first image. That was the first thing I saw that day. If I don’t go with the first thing I see, the magic doesn’t work quite as well.

Sometimes, even though she swears she’d looked in a location I’ve seen, a second search in the place I said to look will turn up the item. Other times she says she would never put it there, but that’s right where she finds the missing object. Occasionally, I get accused of sneaking into her house and placing the lost article where I predict just so she’ll find it there.

Trust me, I don’t. 

I’ve even found things long-distance for my daughter’s neighbor. 

Funny thing about this Mama-lost-item-finding power…it doesn’t work for me. I can lose things for weeks on end, searching unsuccessfully in every corner I can think of. Once I lost my Kindle and went into a panic. I found it weeks later at the bottom of a pile of papers on my desk. Every time I do a sweep to clean the house quickly and dump every loose item I can get my hands on into a box, I’ll lose something. Sometimes for months on end, because I forget what I swept up in the frantic cleanup and where I put the box. Which begs the question: If I forgot what I lost, is it really lost or just forgotten? 

Next time I lose something, I should call my daughter and ask her where it is. If I have this power, shouldn’t she? After all, she is my daughter. 

What about you? Can you find lost items? Magically or otherwise. 

If you’ve lost something and can’t find it, take a break after searching and pick up a copy of Catherine’s award-winning romantic comedy with a touch of drama, A Groom for Mama. You’ll laugh as you watch Mama search for a husband for her daughter. 

One date for every medical test—that’s the deal. Allison, however, gets more than she bargains for. She gets a Groom for Mama.

Beverly Walters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for her daughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of Jack Somerset, Allison’s former boyfriend.

The last thing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’s meddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allison agrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for her terminal illness.

A cross-country trip from Nevada to Ohio ensues, with a string of disastrous dates along the way, as the trio hunts for treatment and A Groom For Mama.

Second Edition Coming Soon!

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins.

Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. 

This Canadian Thanksgiving, Get Together with Family and Friends, and Change Up the Menu with an Italian Slant...

The one theme I love to weave throughout my two-book series is the importance of family. We hold each other tight when times are tough, and on the flip side we can tear each other apart during times of stress and worry. Food seems to be the source of comfort in all family matters.

Meals bring us together to celebrate, cry or support each other in so many ways. The characters in The Last Timekeepers young adult time travel adventure series were originally thrown together, despite their differences, and have had to learn how to act like a family by trusting and working with one another through each Timekeeper mission. In my Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls teen psychic mystery series, the main characters change with each book, but the setting remains the same, I focused on the tribal matters of the town, and what’s best for the whole. Again, my characters must overcome differences and obstacles in order to keep Fairy Falls’ sense of community safe and intact.

I recently came across my father’s lasagna recipe, and a wave of emotions and memories rushed through me. I loved his meaty take on a popular Italian dish. My dad’s been gone since 1983, and I still miss him deeply, especially when our family gets together over holidays, events or Sunday dinners. So, I thought I’d share his special family recipe with you with the hopes of adding this mouth-watering pasta entree to your menu one day. Bon appetite!

Dad’s Mouth-Watering, Meaty Lasagna

1 lb. lean ground beef
½ lb. ground pork
1 can (28 oz.) whole tomatoes
1 can (12 oz.) tomato paste
2 tsps. garlic salt or powder
1½ tsps. oregano leaves
1 tsp. basil leaves
2 cups cottage cheese
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
3 packages (4 ounces each) shredded mozzarella cheese
12 oz. lasagna noodles, cooked and well drained (we use precooked noodles)
½ cup grated Parmesan cheese

In a Dutch over or large skillet, cook and stir meats until brown. Drain off fat. Add tomatoes; break up with fork. Stir in tomato paste, garlic, oregano and basil. Heat to boiling, stirring occasionally. Reduce heat, simmer uncovered 20 minutes or until mixture is consistency of spaghetti sauce.

Preheat oven to 350° F (175° C).

Stir together cottage cheese and Parmesan cheese. Set aside 1 cup meat sauce and ½ the mozzarella. In ungreased baking pan, 13 x 9 x 2 inches, alternate layers of ⅓ each noodles, remaining meat sauce, remaining mozzarella, and cottage cheese mixture.

Spread reserved meat sauce over top. Sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Scatter reserved mozzarella across lasagna.

Bake uncovered 45 minutes. Let stand 15 minutes before cutting. Cut into 3-inch squares.

Serves 8 of your hungriest family members or friends.

And there you have it! A feast fit for any family who loves getting together to share good food, and create happy memories. So, now that you’ve cooked to your heart’s content, and your belly is full, why not escape from the dishes and curl up with one of my books? May I suggest a visit to Fairy Falls or go back in time with The Last Timekeepers? Just remember to pack lightly.

The Last Timekeepers Time Travel Adventure Series:

The Last Timekeepers and the Dark Secret, Book #2 Buy Links:

MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀

The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis, Book #1 Buy Links:

MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀

Legend of the Timekeepers, prequel Buy Links:

MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀

Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls Teen Psychic Mystery Series:

Lost and Found, Book One Buy Links:

MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀

Blackflies and Blueberries, Book Two Buy Links:

MIRROR WORLD PUBLISHING ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀

Your Fridge: What does it say about you? Author Anne Montgomery Wants to Know...

What’s in your fridge? I discovered my “staples” have one thing in common. 
What that says about me is debatable.

Eighty-two percent of Americans form an opinion about someone after viewing the contents of their refrigerator. I guess that means folks are routinely sneaking a peek in the fridge, which, in and of itself, is a little creepy.

Still, when I read the statistic, I just couldn’t help myself. I bounded – in my mind I bound – off to the kitchen and opened the door to see what the stuff in my refrigerator might have to say about me.

There’s an awful lot jammed on those shelves – some things, quite frankly, I’m not sure I want to look at too closely – so I decided to list the foods that jumped out at me, figuratively speaking, of course.

Fifteen containers of mustard, all used at some point and lining a door rack, stood out. Now I’m not a complete wack job. They are different kinds of mustard: honey, spicy brown, sweet hot pepper, Coney Island hotdog, roasted garlic, and Jack Daniels horseradish, to name a few.

I did a little research and found an article titled “What your favorite condiment reveals about your personality.” (In case you think I made this up, here’s the link: https://www.dressings-sauces.org/what-your-favorite-condiment-reveals-about-your-personality.)

“Mustard usage is strongest among consumers age 35 to 64 and is also favored by those who consider themselves ambitious, self-disciplined and family-oriented,” the article said. “Mustard lovers also rate themselves as more shy than any other condiment-favoring group.”

All of that worked for me, accept the bashful part. Shyness is simply not incorporated into my DNA.

Also in my refrigerator, just above the mustard, were fourteen bottles of hot sauce. (Perhaps I’m a hoarder. I’ll have to revisit this possibility.) Again, all containers had been previously opened. They included Chipotle Tabasco, West Indian Hot Sauce, Brimstone Caribbean Red, Orange Pulp Habanero, and Big Black Dick’s Hot Cayman Islands Rum Sauce. (It’s a real thing, so stop snickering.)

Who craves hot sauce?

“If you are a man aged 18-34 living in the south or west, you probably prefer hot sauce to all other condiment sauces,” the above-mentioned article said. “You likely. . . are a competitive risk-taker. . .(and are) more happy, ambitious, spontaneous and risk-loving than other condiment users.”

While I’m a woman and the age bracket is wrong – I’m 62, but I’m pretty sure I look much younger – the rest is spot on.

Elsewhere in the fridge there are two crisper drawers, ostensibly for fruits and vegetables. And one does, in fact, house a large array of colorful healthy foods. However, the other drawer is filled with . . . chocolate: dark and milk, chips and cookies and my favorite toffee and caramel and nut confections. Wee Snickers bars peek from the clear plastic edges of the drawer. Multiple varieties of those chocolate slabs Trader Joe’s elves place by the checkout counter rest, half eaten, in a pile. That drawer is stuffed to the brim with sweet things, as if, perhaps, my unconscious mind is prepping for the zombie apocalypse.

“A sweet tooth has been shown to be linked to a willingness to help people out, but chocolate lovers are also emotionally vulnerable,” said another online article. “They’re charming, flirtatious and may even have a penchant for drama.”

While the rest of the fridge was filled with the usual stuff – eggs and bacon and milk, myriad cheeses – I love cheese! – yogurt and containers of things that should have been pitched long ago – it was the wine I focused on. There are always a few bottles chilling, as well as others in racks around the house. (Think the aforementioned zombie apocalypse here. One must be prepared.) 

So, what does all this say about me? I haven’t a clue. Unfortunately, the statistic did not come with an answer key, which might have proved useful. So, I considered what mustard, hot sauce, chocolate, and wine all have in common. What did I come up with? They’re all pretty much indestructible. Really. Have you ever seen mold on mustard, hot sauce, chocolate, or wine? No! of course not. They have the half-life of plutonium. Proof: I visited the Cayman Islands nine years ago, which is when I acquired my Big Black Dick hot sauce. And it’s still perfectly fine.

What this all says about me remains elusive. Perhaps you’ll have to come over, sneak a peek in the fridge, and tell me what you think.

Please allow me to give you a brief intro to my latest women's fiction novel for your reading pleasure.

The past and present collide when a tenacious reporter seeks information on an eleventh century magician…and uncovers more than she bargained for.

In 1939, archeologists uncovered a tomb at the Northern Arizona site called Ridge Ruin. The man, bedecked in fine turquoise jewelry and intricate bead work, was surrounded by wooden swords with handles carved into animal hooves and human hands. The Hopi workers stepped back from the grave, knowing what the Moochiwimi sticks meant. This man, buried nine hundred years earlier, was a magician.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

Former television journalist Kate Butler hangs on to her investigative reporting career by writing freelance magazine articles. Her research on The Magician shows he bore some European facial characteristics and physical qualities that made him different from the people who buried him. Her quest to discover The Magician’s origin carries her back to a time when the high desert world was shattered by the birth of a volcano and into the present-day dangers of archaeological looting where black market sales of antiquities can lead to murder.

Amazon Buy Link

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

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

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

Grass Skirt is Optional with this Hawaiian Crock Pot Dish Served by Romantic Suspense Author Vonnie Hughes...

This easy and delicious crock-pot supper is the perfect dish to break into the autumn season, and is much cheaper than booking a trip to Hawaii. Head cook and author extraordinaire, Vonnie Hughes is certain you and your family are sure to enjoy this tasty island dish. So, shake out that grass skirt, and take it away, Vonnie...

SWEET HAWAIIAN CROCK-POT CHICKEN

2 lbs chicken tenderloin chunks
1 cup pineapple juice
½ cup of brown sugar
⅓ cup of soy sauce

Combine all ingredients together and cook on low in your crock-pot (slow cooker) for 6 hours. That’s it!

Because this does not contain vegetables you need to serve this either with a crisp green salad that contains red bell peppers for colour, or with a couple of vegetables such as kale and shallots tossed for a minute in garlic infused olive oil so that the crispness contrasts with the chicken.

Here is a peek at Vonnie's latest romantic suspense.

Who can you trust if you can’t trust your own mother? Through the clammy fog, Celie Francis hears the chilling message. “I know who you are, Celie. I know where you live.” And in the terrifying aftermath she reconnects with her dysfunctional family in ways she had never imagined.

BLURB:
Abused and abandoned as a child, Célie Francis knows better than to trust anyone. But after she witnesses a murder, she's placed in the Unit "New Zealand's witness protection program" where she's expected to trust strangers with her life.

It's psychologist Brand Turner's job to ease witnesses into their new identities, not to protect them, but Célie stirs feelings in him that are far from professional. When it appears someone is leaking critical information that could endanger Célie, Brand will do anything to protect her. But first he has to convince her to trust him.

Adrift in a frightening world, Célie would like to believe the handsome psychologist is everything he seems, but as witnesses are murdered and danger swirls around them, Célie must decide "can she trust Brand with her life?　

Please click the link to read more from Lethal Refuge.

Vonnie Hughes is a multi-published author in both Regency books and contemporary suspense. She loves the intricacies of the social rules of the Regency period and the far-ranging consequences of the Napoleonic Code. And with suspense she has free rein to explore forensic matters and the strong convolutions of the human mind. Like many writers, some days she hates the whole process, but somehow she just cannot let it go.

Vonnie was born in New Zealand, but she and her husband now live happily in Australia. If you visit Hamilton Gardens in New Zealand be sure to stroll through the Japanese Garden. These is a bronze plaque engraved with a haiku describing the peacefulness of that environment. The poem was written by Vonnie.

All of Vonnie’s books are available on The Wild Rose Press and Amazon.

Learn more about Vonnie Hughes on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Goodreads.

Sip and Scribble by Young Adult Paranormal Author Leigh Goff...

Wine tasting and writing fiction may seem like two very different realms, but when you look closer, you'll see that they share intriguing similarities. Both experiences involve sensory exploration and the art of storytelling.

I recently began a journey into wine tasting and am now studying for my level 2 certification (yes, the homework rocks). How wine tasting appeals to me was similar to how I feel about writing. After some research, I discovered there was a connection. Just as a wine taster engages their senses to explore the intricacies of a wine, a fiction writer harnesses the power of sensory details to bring their story to life.

A highly skilled winemaker tends to the grapes and the winemaking process to produce a wine like a Napa Cabernet that boasts flavors of ripe blackberries, velvety dark chocolate with subtle hints of cedar, culminating in a full-bodied magical experience on the palate. When I craft a story, I construct compelling plots, drawing on my sensory experiences to enhance them and then refine the work through editing and revision. In my first novel, Disenchanted, the story I created was filled with sensory details. I wanted to immerse the reader in the magic of Sophie's world, her star-crossed romance, and the haunting history of Old Wethersfield.

Some writers through the centuries, such as Jane Austen, were known to imbibe on too much wine. Research from the University of Graz shows that drinking wine enhances creative thinking for writers. Of course, it does! Now winemakers are harnessing the art of storytelling to enhance their connection with consumers. Using a new phone app called Winerytale, the user can read the story about a wine of their choice and learn about the winemakers.

While wine tasting and writing fiction may seem unrelated, the parallels are undeniable. Both pursuits involve sensory exploration, layered complexity, subjective interpretation, storytelling, and a blend of artistry and craftsmanship. The next time you savor a glass of wine or dive into a captivating novel, take a moment to appreciate the shared essence of these two worlds, where sensory delights and imaginative tales intertwine. 

Cheers!

Leigh Goff writes young adult fiction. She is a graduate from the University of Maryland and a member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers & Illustrators (SCBWI).

 She has three published novels, DISENCHANTED, BEWITCHING HANNAH, and KOUSH HOLLOW. She is also a member of SCBWI and a graduate from the University of Maryland.

Learn more about Leigh Goff on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, and Goodreads.

Virtual Book Tour: Lady by LCW Allingham...

Mirror World Publishing and Sapphyria's Book Promotions present the 1-week virtual book tour for 

Lady by LCW Allingham

About Lady:

In the year 1464, while England recovers from the devastation of the War of the Roses, Baron Alexander FitzRoland is dying in his northern castle. His young wife, Rosalynde, recovering from the stillbirth of her first child, succumbs to despair like a dutiful lady should.

When the castle gates are threatened, only Alexander’s reputation as a brutal fighter is enough to frighten off their opportunistic enemy. The proper thing for Lady Rosalynde to do is to pray and submit to devastation. Instead, she puts on her husband’s armor and rides to the gate disguised as the baron.

From there, things only get more complicated. Between mastering the art of war, meeting with witches, struggling with self-doubt and maneuvering her complicated relationship with Alexander’s lover, Robert, Lady Rosalynde balances on the razor thin line between duty and destiny.

Excerpt:

Something cold bloomed in my chest and spread to my limbs, pushing the ache away. I could die tonight. I could simply kneel back down on my warped knees and pray like a proper lady until I was cut down, but my inaction would condemn everyone else as well.

I rolled the stiffness out of my shoulders and flexed warmth back into my calves. I had to act. I had to move. I was suddenly awash with a strange, sterile gratitude.

I had to keep fighting.

I straightened my back. “I must rally the baron.”

“My lady.” Sir Simon tugged at the red trim on his surcoat. “In this state, the baron could not possibly—”

“He can, and you will escort him. Have our best men flanking him.” My heart beat so hard I wasn’t sure how loudly or softly I spoke.

“My lady—” Sir Simon’s orange mustache fluttered nervously. I lifted my hand to cut him off.

“Do we have an alternative, Sir Simon?” I asked. “Could our garrison win against Colbert’s men?”

He shook his head. “Lord FitzRoland would deter Colbert in a challenge of single combat, but our men could not stand up to his.”

“Then the baron must go to the gate,” I said, ending the debate. My household retreated from the rooms. Old Meg shuffled past me, with a strange brightness in her milky eyes.

The knight took a deep breath, his thick chest swelling as he looked up at me. I was taller than Sir Simon. Taller than many of our soldiers. Always so oddly out of place, yet I felt a sudden gratitude for my height as the knight deflated in my shadow.

“Yes, my lady. I will await the baron at the bailey gate.”

When the door shut behind him, I sank to my husband’s bed and took his damp hand.

“Oh, Alexander,” I whispered. “Please awaken and save me from this folly.”

My husband of two years took a rattling breath, but did not wake. A moment later there was a knock on the door. It was time to move.

I ushered in my cousin and lady maid, Aures, her fair face white and her lips tightly shut for a change.

“I need you to get Nicolas,” I said. “I am in need of Alexander’s squire.”

“Rosalynde, what are you doing?” Aures whispered, twisting her skirts in her hands.

I lifted my hand. “I’m trying my best. Help me out of my kirtle before you go.”

She pulled the laces from my overdress, then slipped from the chamber without another word.

A cool evening gust came through the open window and blew through Alexander’s damp hair as I tugged the plain red dress off. The metallic stench of sickness and fear wafted through the room. At this time of year there should have been life, fragrance, joy, and music on the air, but it seemed Casstone’s fortune had turned as sour as the stink in the chamber.

And now was I to seal that fate?

By the time Aures returned with Nicolas, I was dressed in Alexander’s hose and quilted doublet.

“Rosalynde, you can’t do this,” Aures said. I suppose she felt she wouldn’t be doing her job if she didn’t protest.

Nicolas’s sharp brown eyes assessed everything in a moment and his mouth quirked up. “You are almost the same height as him.”

“I know,” I said. Alexander had often jested that I could wear his armor.

Aures muttered in Welsh as Nicolas started with the chain mail, a chattering coat of weight, then the greaves on my ankles and poleyns on my knees. I should have wrapped my knees tight before he armed them, but it was too late now. Time was short. When Nicolas strapped on the breast and back plates, their heft nearly pressed me to the floor. If it came down to combat against Colbert, I was already defeated. The burden of the armor confined me, each motion a strain on soft muscles. I was not as strong as I had been a year ago.

“Make sure the visor covers my face.” I kept my voice steady. “No one must suspect it is not Alexander on that wall.”

Follow the Tour:

https://saphsbookpromotions.blogspot.com/2024/09/virtual-book-tour-schedule-lady-by-lcw.html

Release Date: September 17, 2024

Publisher: Mirror World Publishing

Paperback: ‎ 364 pages

ISBN-10: ‎ 1998360059

ISBN-13: ‎ 978-1-998360-05-5

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-998360-04-8

Praise for Lady:

"A captivating tale. This lady rides to her own rescue." - Bestselling Author of the Elizabeth of England Chronicles, G. Lawrence

"Amid uncertainty, betrayal, and treason during the War of the Roses, Lady Rosalynde emerges as an avatar of power, courage, and fierce loyalty as she defends her home and her very life. Battling turmoil within her heart and enemies at the gate, she defines what it means to be fully woman in a world fully run by men. Mourn with her, rejoice with her, and celebrate her message: Home is where love is found." - Abyss & Apex Editor and Author of the Twins of Bellesfées series

"A compelling and strong female lead with a great cast of supporting characters. Loved the time frame of the 1400's. This was listed as a first novel but the writer is not new to the skill and it shows."

" I was hooked from the first page and really enjoyed the medieval element of this story, it uses the time-period perfectly and was hooked with what I was hoping for. The concept worked overall and enjoyed how the love story was going on, it was realistic and enjoyed the overall feel of this. LCW Allingham has a great writing style and was engaged with what was going on and can't wait for more."

" During the early days of the War of the Roses a young noblewoman living in a remote castle is mourning the miscarriage/stillbirth of her son when her husband Baron Alexander falls ill. To make matters even worse a neighbour's son keeps attacking the castle. Uncommon in this kind of novels this is a very layered story and not a romance although there is all kind of love between the group of main characters. Our heroine survived a very traumatic event when she was still young and her warrior father knew only one way to deal with that to give his daughter confidence: he trained her to fight. She is a very androgyne tall woman with an unusual upbringing what made her very unpopular at court. Still, handsome and kind, fierce warrior Alexander marries her because he wants heirs but he has a dangerous secret to keep.

It is a story that has a genuine and realistic feel to it. It handles diversity but in a natural way. Also in the Middle Ages people fell in love with people they could not marry. And there would also have been people from far places.

The author said in her final comments "I realised in the end the story was about love" and that is exactly it. Not just sexual attraction, no hanky panky, love. In all kind of forms.

I was very impressed and went to bed late in the hope to finish the story. Failed. And then in the morning I hated reaching the end."

Purchase Links:

Mirror World Publishing:

Ebook https://www.mirrorworldpublishing.com/product/lady-by-lcw-allingham-e-book-/116

Paperback https://www.mirrorworldpublishing.com/product/lady-by-lcw-allingham/115

Amazon:

https://amzn.to/3Xtf8c9

Barnes & Noble:

https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/lady-lcw-allingham/1146216133

Library Thing: 

https://www.librarything.com/work/32784934

Meet the Author:

LCW Allingham (she/her) is a Philadelphia area author, artist, musician and editor. Her early education was uniquely rich in the arts, learning music, performance and fine art all of her life, but she was always compelled toward the written word and storytelling. She received her degree in journalism and wrote home renovation articles before turning her focus exclusively to fiction. Her short stories have appeared in numerous anthologies and publications and she is an editor for the Collection of Utter Speculation series, and her horror novella, Muse, was released in April 2024, to critical acclaim.

In 2022 she co-founded the indie press, Speculation Publications, with her long-time editorial partners and serves as executive editor. She writes in many genres but particularly horror, fantasy, historical and speculative fiction. She is an active feminist and human rights advocate and lives in Pennsylvania with her family, her pets and her ever expanding art collection.

Lady is her debut novel.

Connect with the Author:

Website: http://www.lcwallingham.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/LCWAllingham

Twitter: https://x.com/LCWAllingham

Amazon Author Page: https://amzn.to/3XisNUB

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/42790871.L_C_W_Allingham

Publisher Website: http://www.mirrorworldpublishing.com/

A Recipe and Read to Ring in the Fall Season by Cozy Mystery Author Janis Lane...

This is a favorite of mine to use when I have leftovers. Actually, I plan so I have the right ingredients, but don’t tell my secrets.

In late summer when veggies are in top form, the sparkling green of fat bell peppers has my mouth watering. Fry up a bit more summer sausage for breakfast than you need. Pull out of the freezer that small bit of ground beef you cooked up with onion. Add a bit of chopped green onion, a dash of garlic salt. Mix with tomato soup which is undiluted. Use a ½ can if you only make up two; a whole can for four peppers. Add 1½ cups of white or wild rice that you had left over and tucked into the freezer. Voila! You are ready to assemble.  All ingredients are already cooked, so you are just baking the peppers, microwave or oven.  

Now if you don’t have leftovers then this is the recipe, that serves 4, to follow. 

STUFFED PEPPERS

4 green peppers, red and yellow are good too

½ cup summer sausage, cooked, drained

½ cup ground beef, cooked, drained

1½ cups cooked wild or white rice

1 can tomato soup, regular size

Dash of garlic powder

Pinch of salt and pepper to taste

2 tbsp. chopped green onion

Freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Parsley garnish, optional

Preheat oven to 350° F. 

Cut the top off peppers and discard stems, chop tops into small sizes and leave in bowl.  Remove seeds from peppers and arrange in baking dish.

Mix remaining ingredients in bowl with chopped tops and then spoon into peppers. Cook for about 30 minutes. Sprinkle with the parmesan.  May be refrigerated and served next day. Warm in oven or microwave. 

Late summer harvest presents many choices for salads and dessert. A side dish of fruit and a slice of cheese (so many excellent selections). Corn bread is also a great taste with the peppers. 

Enjoy! 

Here is a brief intro to the cozy mystery series Emma writes.

MURDER in the JUNKYARD sees the demise of a man no one likes, a romance, and plans for a wedding as Detective Fowler and his friends keep their small-town America free from danger.

Detective Kevin Fowler is furious that low life has targeted his town where people live in blissful safety. Brenda Bryant is out junkn’ for good things when she stumbles over the grotesque body of a man beloved by no one. Suspense heats up when large sums of money are found in two different places. Drug money is suspected and Brenda targeted by someone who wants the money returned. Detective Fowler faces surprise after surprise as he peels back the surface of Hubbard, New York and deals with its shocking underbelly. Meanwhile romance infiltrates the group of friends with a wedding in the making.

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Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes cozy mysteries as Janis Lane, Regency as Emma, and spice as Sunny Lane. 

She lives in Western New York where winter is snowy, spring arrives with rave reviews, summer days are long and velvet, and fall leaves are riotous in color. At long last she enjoys the perfect bow window for her desk where she is treated to a year-round panoramic view of nature. Her computer opens up a fourth fascinating window to the world. Her patient husband is always available to help with a plot twist and encourage Emma to never quit. Her day job is working with flowers at Herbtique and Plant Nursery, the nursery she and her son own. 

Look for information about writing and plants on Emma's new website. Leave a comment or a gardening question and put a smile on Emma's face.

Stay connected to Emma on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out the things that make Emma smile on Pinterest.

Authors Need to Learn to Stay in Their Lane…

A good friend of mine invited me to jump on an Instagram show she does weekly. The topic was all about jealousy and envy, especially the green-eyed monster kind. I was intrigued, so of course I gave her a definite yes. As the conversation grew, I thought about how jealousy and envy seeps into the minds and actions of authors and writers. Yes, there’s comparison-itis, when an author compares his or her books and career to that of a highly successful author. How do they make it so easy? *Seethes* Why can’t I get a break? *Grumbles* What am I doing wrong? *Head desk* And the gut-punching laments go on and on. It’s like these famous authors got a free pass, and we’re looking for any scraps they can toss our way. But, what if I told you that there was a way to get the author life you’ve been working toward? It’s not easy by any means, but it’s doable.

Stay in your lane. That’s it. Told it was doable, but with today’s distractions an author has to deal with, it’s darned hard. Writing. Editing. Revising. Submitting. Rounds of edits. Book cover design. Formatting. Publishing. Book launch. Book promotion. Book marketing. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. The problem is we authors are too busy looking in the rear view mirror, side mirrors, odometer, gas gage, and in front of us, that it’s no wonder we can’t get to where we want to go. So strap on a pair of blinders and move forward. Stop for gas. In other words, rest and recharge. Check the GPS. Are you going in the direction you want to go or in circles? If you write for young adults, why are you in Stephen King’s lane? Yes, learn from him by all means, but don’t be envious of his accomplishments. They’re his and his alone.

Learn to pace yourself. The cliché, ‘Rome wasn’t built in a day’ holds merit even by today’s standards.
Do what’s right for YOU. Write what’s right for YOU, not what’s trending. The famous authors you love to hate got there through their own grit and merit. Yes, they had help. Yes, they had support. Yes, they made it. But only through their tenacity, and because an agent or publisher thought they were ready. Don’t let the green-eyed monster come out and destroy your integrity as an author or writer. Shove it in the back seat and buckle that beast in. You’re the driver. You’re in control of how you respond to how well other authors are doing in your circle or your world. Keep your focus. Stick to your plan. Stay. In. Your. Lane.

This advice isn’t easy, especially when you’re more interested in what other authors or writers are doing. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence is not really what it seems. You didn’t see the work that was put in to actually make that grass perfect and luxurious. You don’t realize what successful authors have gone through to get to where they are now. Many flat tires, oil changes, recharged batteries, brake jobs, and a whole slew of other repairs and challenges have prepared them for the long haul of their publishing dreams. Learn from their journeys, but please, stay in your lane. You’ll be a better writer if you do.

Does the thought of another author’s success make you cringe with jealousy? Have you ever gone off course in your writing career because you decided to follow a famous author’s path instead of your own? When something amazing happens to an author you know personally, do you reach out and express your happiness for them? Or do you say nothing? Would love to read your comments. Cheers and thanks for taking the time to read my blog. I appreciate you!

Author in the Kitchen: Celebrate Labor Day with a Family Favorite and Time Travel Romance Read by Stella May...

This recipe has been in my family since forever. It is a very popular dish for Georgian and Armenian people who absolutely loved their beans. My mother used to make it, but I put a little twist of my own to make it easier. Mom usually soaked dry beans overnight, then cooked them the next day. I use canned beans, and it tastes the same. 

The Georgian recipe for mashed beans calls for the finely chopped walnuts. I add them on occasion. 

You can eat this dish warm or cold, over bread or crackers like a pate, or just as a side dish.  

MASHED BEANS

1 can dark beans

1 can light beans

2 lg. onions, I use plain yellow or Vidalia Oil 

Oil of your choice, I use sunflower or avocado oil

1 tsp. khmeli suneli, the traditional Georgian spice, and a MUST*

Salt and pepper to taste 

Fresh parsley, chopped – optional

Fresh cilantro, chopped – optional½ cup walnuts, chopped fine – optional

Open bean cans, wash the brine off, and soak in cold water for 10-15 min. 

Dice onions fine. Pour oil into a medium-sized pot. When the oil shimmers add onion and sauté until they are slightly yellow and tender, but not caramelized. 

Stir in beans. Cover the pan with a lid. Cook for 3-5 min on low to medium heat, stir occasionally. When beans are fully cooked, some will crack, remove pan from the heat. Mash beans with a potato or wire masher. The mixture should have some chunks, so be careful not over mash. Let beans cool for a few minutes, then add khmeli suneli, salt, and pepper. 

Add parsley, cilantro, and walnuts if you’re using any of them. 

*If you can’t find khmeli suneli then use this substitute:

¼ tsp. coriander seeds, ground

¼ tsp. dried basil

¼ tsp. dried marjoram

¼ tsp. dried dill

1 pinch dried red chili pepper

A jaded CEO. A fiercely focused ballerina. A love that defies all society’s rules.

SoHo, 1962

JJ Morris, successful CEO, leads a secret double life, playing saxophone to his heart’s content in his hole-in-the-wall dive bar. Yet he can’t escape the feeling he’s slowly petrifying into just another jaded millionaire. 

Then a gorgeous blonde steps into his bar and shakes up his world. Certain this fierce little swan of a woman is exactly what’s missing in his life, he maps out a plan to wed her by Christmas. With or without his snobby mother’s approval.

Most women would be thrilled to learn that the tall, handsome bar musician is, in fact, a wealthy prince charming. Verochka Osipoff is less than impressed. She’s focused on becoming a prima ballerina, and everything hinges on her next audition. She can’t afford distractions, especially a rich playboy slumming it in SoHo.

Yet the heat of their attraction melts Verochka’s heart like warm chocolate. But JJ’s world is a cold, glittering nest of vipers. And their venom could destroy their love song before the first movement ends.

EXCERPT

The sound of a saxophone halted her steps. That deep, velvety voice grabbed her by her throat, and refused to let go. Holding her breath, mesmerized, Verochka stopped, then pivoted. Where did it come from? Straining her ears, she looked around, searching the almost empty street. Guided by her hearing, she glanced at the closed doors on her right. The Broome Street Bar. Inside, the sax murmured its enchanting tale, sad, and touching, and heartbreaking.

Mon Dieu! What must one feel to play like that?

Verochka closed her eyes and swayed to the music. Her arms by their own volition lifted and moved in a lazy, unhurried wave. She visualized the dance in her mind, something slow and sensual. Strange, but she never paid attention to jazz before. Then again, she was never partial to any music except classical.

To her there was nothing and no one compared to Tchaikovsky. But the soulful notes of that sax fascinated her as much as the famous opening theme from Swan Lake. When the sound trailed off, she felt almost bereft. She craved to hear more. Will the musician play again? Oh, she hopped so. She’d wait for it.

Outside? On the sidewalk at almost ten at night?

Unwise, not to mention quite dangerous. Granted, this spot in SoHo was not prone to crime. But still. A young woman alone was bound to attract some attention.  Verochka looked at the closed door of the bar, biting her lip.

To go inside, or continue on her way? The wisest thing to do, of course, was to turn around, and go home, to her tiny apartment. It was late. She must rest before her wake-up call at 5:30 AM. All morning classes of Madame Valeska started at precisely 6 AM, and God forbid if any of the dancers were late even by a minute. The wrath of her teacher definitely equaled to her worldwide fame as a former principal dancer of The Royal Ballet.

Tired after the long day of classes and rehearsals, then cleaning the premises, Verochka barely kept upright. She hated her after- hours janitorial obligations, but promise was a promise. And Verochka Osipoff never broke her word.

No matter how spent she was, each and every evening, after all the dancers went home, and the school was closed, she headed to the closet for a broom and a bucket. At first, she didn’t mind it at all. It was an arrangement made in heaven. An eighteen-year-old orphan from France, determined to reach her dream, Verochka arrived at the doors of the famous New York ballet school with nothing but fifty dollars to her name and a small satchel that belonged to her father.

After her initial shock faded, the formidable Madame Valeska, the owner of the school, ordered Verochka to change into her leotards, and dance.

Her final verdict delivered in a grumbling voice was like a heavenly music to Verochka’s ears.

“You have a potential, Miss Osipoff. I’ll take a chance on you, and let you stay for a probationary period of three months. After that, we’ll see.”

Verochka’s elation was huge, but temporary. The school was obscenely expensive. No way she was able to afford the tuition. There was a stipend, but applying for it took only God knew how long, with no guarantee that it will be granted in the end.

On top of it, she was a foreigner, all alone in the strange country, and barely able to speak English.

Madame Valeska, quickly assessing the situation— more accurately, feeling sorry for her— offered Verochka a deal: the education in exchange for cleaning services. A tiny room in the attic as a temporary place to live was added to that offer. To Verochka, it was like a Christmas gift she could never have dreamt about.

Overwhelmed, moved to tears, Verochka grabbed the opportunity with both hands. After a while, she got her stipend for the gifted and unprivileged students, thanks to Madame Valeska’s help, and was able to cover most of her tuition.

The convenience of living on the premises saved her the expense of a rent, and occasional participation in corps de ballet’s performances made everything else manageable. She didn’t need a lot of food, as her extremely strict diet fell mostly into yogurt and fruit category. As to clothes— she learned at her dancing parents knee the skill to mend tears and repair pointe shoes.

Two years later, Verochka was still living in the attic, and still mopped the floors, and cleaned the premises. But it didn’t matter. Her main goal to become a prima ballerina of The Royal Ballet took the precedence over everything else.

Ambitious? Maybe. But, as her father always said, you must dream big. Otherwise, what was the point? So, she dreamed big, and worked like a woman possessed in order to reach that dream. She was content, and happy, and along the way, fell in love with New York, her new home. Her only home. She learned English, and became quite fluent in it, even though her accent stubbornly refused to be erased.

Of course, she missed France, and Paris, and small street cafes, and long strolls along the Seine. Oh, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sprinkled with powdered sugar beignets! Sometimes, she could smell them in her dreams.

But most of all, she missed her parents. She was sure they were looking at her from heaven, smiling, proud of her accomplishments.

Her occasional nostalgia was usually sweet, and short, like a children’s lullaby.

But not tonight.

After finishing her duties, Verochka was ambushed by a sadness so huge, she almost doubled down with it. Suffocated in the large empty building that housed the ballet school, she was lonely, isolated, until she couldn’t bear another minute longer locked inside. Hence, her impromptu evening walk that brought her in the middle of SoHo, to the Broome Street Bar.

The plaintive sounds of sax reached her ears again.

Oh, yeas, please.

Listening to those seductive low rumbles, she wondered about the player.

Who was he? Or was it a she? Why was that melody so sad, so sorrowful?

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