Sloane Taylor's Blog, page 2
August 3, 2025
You might be addicted to books if…
We came across the following quote that made us pause and reflect. Let’s see if you have the same reaction.
An ordinary man can…surround himself with two thousand books… and thenceforward have at least one place in the world in which it is possible to be happy. Augustine Birrell
We don’t know about you, but the thought of surrounding ourselves with two thousand books makes us very happy. We love to read, we love books, and we love to surround ourselves with books of all kinds. If you could see into our offices, we definitely have two thousand books and that not including the library of paper backs in the basement that we’ve mentioned before. This obsessiveness is probably from even if we haven’t read a book, we can rarely bear to part with it. This was especially hard when we closed up Donald’s parents’ things and their various books. Dad’s were texts on music and electronics with mom’s being about music and cooking. The cookbooks were kept but the other’s that were texts got passed on to Goodwill. What about you? Does your passion for books border on the obsessive?
You might be addicted to books if…• You never sign off your Kindle/Nook without downloading a book. • You never leave a bookstore without buying a book. • You read multiple books at any given time. • There’s a book—or more—in every bathroom, by every easy chair, and on your nightstand or you carry your Kindle/Nook from place to place. • Perhaps you have a reading app on your phone to fill in time while you wait in line for that special cup of coffee. • There’s no such thing as taking out only ONE book at a time from the library. • The librarian knows you by name. • Your paperbacks are stacked two deep on your shelves. • You had to buy a Kindle AND a Nook because you’ve run out of shelf and floor space in your office. • Your friends think you are their personal lending library. • You get so lost in a book that you don’t hear your name being called. • Engrossed in the book you don’t hear the oven timer and burn a meal. • You read while walking down the street. • You’ve actually created furniture using your books. • You have every book your favorite authors have ever written and eagerly await their next releases.We have done all these things at one time or another, and must admit …. we’re addicted to books. How about you?
Now kick back, relax and pick up a good book to read.
Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They've written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after, and that’s why they write romance.In addition to writing Catherine and Donald love antiquing, traveling, singing, and going to the theatre. Catherine is also an avid gardener and has drawn Donald into her garden as a day laborer. They figure the couple who plays together and works together, stays together—and that's just what they aim to do.
Second Editions Coming Soon:
Ghosts and Gardenias
The Promised One The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 1
Blood Brothers The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2
Son of the Moonless Night The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3
The Mercenary and the Shifters The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 4
Social Media Info:
July 27, 2025
NEVER FORGET, HEAT CAN KILL YOU!
People are much more likely to die from heat than from any othernatural phenomena.
Here in the Sonoran Desert, the heatis upon us. We desert dwellers are forced to understand the dangers lurking inthose high thermometer readings. We know they can very quickly lead to death.
Unfortunately, many visitors to our valley don’t seem tounderstand. Just two weeks ago, a tourist died on one of our city trails, ayoung woman who tried scaling Camelback Mountain without water. In July! Earlier, when paramedicshad to rescue dehydrated hikers from our parks, a dozen firefighters werethemselves overcome by the heat. In response, some of our trails have beenclosed to the public. Others are only open early in the morning and in theevening.
It’s interesting, I think, that somany people fear hurricanes and tornados and floods and earthquakes when thenatural event most likely to kill them is heat.
I know first-hand the horrors of heatsickness. The symptoms can arrive frighteningly fast. Dizziness, confusion,headache, nausea, signs that can quickly lead to unconsciousness and death. Allbut one of my bouts of heat illness were brought on by officiating and my ownstupidity. I was an amateur sports official for 40 years, where I calledfootball, baseball, ice hockey, soccer, and basketball games. I was almostalways the only woman on the field, a fact that was rarely far from my mind.
My first attack of heat sickness occurred when I umpired a baseball gamein extreme heat.
As you can imagine, I was sometimesmade to feel I didn’t belong in the officiating ranks, and I was keenly awarethat any show of weakness would lay me open to negative comments from my peers,coaches, and fans. So, the first time I got heat sickness, I struggled throughit. It was a baseball game and I was clad in the necessary armor required forworking behind the plate: chest protector, shin guards, wool cap, polyestershirt and slacks, steel-toed shoes. The sun was relentless. After the game, Iwent home and balanced myself under a cold shower for what seemed like hours. Idrank Gatorade and copious amounts of water. I felt lousy for a day or two,then returned to the field.
One of the problems associated withheat illness is that once you get it your internal thermometer is messed up andyou start succumbing to it more easily. I’m a slow learner sometimes, so ittook me a while to finally take a stand. One day, in a sub-varsity footballgame, I called time and went to the trainer. He took one look at me and draggedme into the locker room where he filled me with fluids and applied wet, icytowels to my head and neck. I was rather surprised when my crew mates greetedme at halftime and promptly told me to go home and get well. No derision. Nosmirks. I realized then that most outdoor officials in the southwest haveprobably suffered similarly at one time or another.
Most of my bouts of heat sickness came while I officiated footballgames in Arizona’s scorching Sonoran Desert, where temperatures often exceed110 degrees.
A few years later, the telltale signsof heat sickness attacked in the middle of a varsity football game, and you’dbe proud of me. I signaled time out, struggled off the field, and said I wassick. Later, when I opened my eyes in the school’s nursing office, I foundmyself surround by four paramedics. They were so attentive and cute. I brieflyconsidered that they might be male strippers with their prominent muscles andappealing uniforms, but that was just my heat-addled brain.
What finally made me understand thetrue dangers of heat illness was the time I got lost in the desert. I did allthe wrong things. I went rock collecting alone. I walked away from my strandedvehicle. I had two dogs with me who drank all my water. When I saw that lasthalf inch of liquid in my bottle and felt the sun beating down, I tied my dogsunder a bush and hoped the coyotes would stay away. I built cairns as I triedto find my way back to civilization, so I might locate my sweet pups if Isurvived. While the whole ordeal only lasted half-a-day and I was safelyreunited with my dogs, the episode is etched into my brain. As is the fact thattoday I might be nothing more than a pile of bleached bones in the vast SonoranDesert.
While lost in the desert, I suffered from heat sickness, and today Iconsider myself lucky to be alive.
It’s understandable then that I nevergo anywhere without water. That bottle is always in my hand, which here in thedesert is pretty much normal. In fact, those without a mobile water supply areeasily identified as tourists.
The point is, heat can kill you quickly. And when youconsider that our world is heating up rapidly, it’s something we should alltake into account whenever we leave the bliss of air-conditioning.
Here is a peek at Anne's latest release.Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to the Graves Registration Service where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?
Praise for Your Forgotten Sons
“Although a deftly crafted work of original fiction, “Your Forgotten Sons” by Anne Montgomery is inspired by a true story. An original and inherently interesting read from start to finish, “Your Forgotten Sons” will prove to be an immediate and enduringly appreciated pick.” Midwest Book Review
“This was a quick, riveting read that really challenged me to think differently about our servicemen and women, especially those who take on the jobs that don’t get heroically depicted in the media or news…I really highly recommend this book to anyone that is looking for a different take on American history. I left it with a newfound appreciation for the unsung heroes.” Bekah C NetGalley
“This is the truth. It’s gritty and painful and bittersweet – and true. When you think you’ve read every perspective of WWII, along comes Bud to break your heart.” Bridgett Siter Former Military Reporter
“Anne Montgomery writes a strong story and I was hooked from the first page. It had a great concept and I enjoyed that this was inspired by a true story…It was written perfectly and I was invested in the story. Anne Montgomery has a great writing style and left me wanting to read more.” – Kathryn McLeer NetGalley
Available at Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Google Books, and Kobo
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 on her website , Wikipedia , Facebook , Linkedin , and Twitter .
July 20, 2025
Grab Your Spy Gear and Suit Up!
from Sharon Ledwith
Did you ever wonder what it was like to fight the Nazis on your home soil during World War Two?
In the second installment of my YA time travel series, The Last Timekeepers and the Dark Secret, my characters must join forces with the Dutch Resistance in order to figure out their Timekeeper mission while in Amsterdam during 1942. It was sure a different world through their adolescent eyes, and trying to keep one step ahead of the Nazis proved to be quite a dangerous challenge.
Only a true hero can shine the light in humanity’s darkest time.When fourteen-year-old Jordan joins his second mission with the Last Timekeepers, he and his companions are thrust into Nazi-occupied Amsterdam during World War 2.
Tasked with locating a powerful, ancient book before it falls into enemy hands, Jordan and his fellow Timekeepers are plunged into a fight far more dangerous than anything they’ve faced before. With help from the Dutch Resistance and a mysterious baron, they must stay one step ahead of a regime determined to silence the truth.
As danger closes in, Jordan discovers that true courage is forged through trust, sacrifice, and the strength of those beside you. But will that be enough to change the past - and protect the future?
A fast-paced adventure rich with historical detail, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS AND THE DARK SECRET is the second book in Sharon Ledwith's series of novels for middle grade and adult readers alike.
EXCERPT
“I wonder what else isdown here.” Drake beamed his cell phone across the basement, hitting jars ofjams, pickles, and relishes. His stomach growled.
Jordan pulled the cheesefrom his pocket and handed it to Drake. “Trade you for your phone.”
“Best. Trade. Ever.”Drake passed his phone to Jordan.
Jordan walked over andgrabbed a jar of pickles off the dusty shelf. At least they wouldn’t arrive atthe baron’s place hungry. He hoped his uncle had managed to stop Amanda’sbleeding. His hand tightened over the jar, the ridges of the lid cutting into hispalm. A scrape from behind the shelves made Jordan jump.
“Hello?” he asked,pushing jars aside. He flashed the cell phone into the small, dark area.
“Who ya talking to,Jordan?” Drake asked with his mouth full of cheese.
“Shhh, Drake.” Jordanlistened. Hearing nothing, he shrugged and turned back around.
“I thought I heard—”Jordan stopped and pointed the phone at Ravi. His jaw dropped. “A-Are youserious, Sharma?”
Drake spat out hischeese, snorting with laughter.
“Is there a problem?”Ravi asked, tying the bowtie of his tuxedo.
“You look like a penguinwith attitude!” Drake slapped his knee.
“Say what you want, butI’m glad we didn’t hit the cleaners on the way to school now,” Ravi replied,pulling down his sleeves, “or else I wouldn’t have these dry clothes.”
Jordan chuckled.Suddenly, he heard a door creak open, followed by heavy footsteps squeakingdown the stairs. Panicking, Jordan stuffed Drake’s phone in his track suitjacket’s pocket and waved Drake over by the shelves. Drake slipped behindJordan just in time, before the small light bulb above the bottom of the stairsclicked on. Jordan swallowed hard. There, staring directly at Ravi was a portlyman in a blood-stained apron. Tufts of blond hair sprouted from the sides ofhis balding head. His brown trousers were pulled up past his waist, making himresemble an evil garden gnome. In one of his hands, he held a huge butcherknife, its blade flecked with blood.
Wielding the knife, theman pointed at Ravi. “Who are you?”
Ravi licked his thicklips nervously. “The name’s Bond. James Bond.”
Here’s a glimpse of the premises of both my youngadult series:The Last Timekeepers Time Travel Adventures…
Chosen by an Atlantean Magus to be Timekeepers—legendary timetravelers sworn to keep history safe from the evil Belial—five classmates aresent into the past to restore balance, and bring order back into the world, onemission at a time.
Children are the key to our future. And now, theyare the only hope for our past.
Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls Teen PsychicMysteries…
Inthe small, quiet tourist town of Fairy Falls, a new-to-town teen, an unlikelyhero who possesses an unusual psychic ability, is drawn into a mystery and istasked with uncovering corrupt truths that threaten the town’s future.
Welcome to Fairy Falls. Expect the unexpected.
BuyLinks:
The Last Timekeepers Time Travel Adventure Series:
TheLast Timekeepers and the Noble Slave, Book 3
UNIVERSAL BUY LINK ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
TheLast Timekeepers and the Dark Secret, Book 2 BuyLinks:
UNIVERSAL BUY LINK ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
TheLast Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis, Book 1 Buy Links:
UNIVERSAL BUY LINK ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
Legendof the Timekeepers, Prequel BuyLinks:
UNIVERSAL BUY LINK ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES& NOBLE׀
Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls TeenPsychic Mystery Series:
Lost& Found, Book One BuyLinks:
PANDAMONIUMPUBLISHING HOUSE ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES& NOBLE ׀
Blackflies& Blueberries, Book Two BuyLinks:
PANDAMONIUMPUBLISHING HOUSE ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES& NOBLE ׀
Sharon Ledwith is the author of themiddle-grade/young adult time travel adventure series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS,and the award-winning teen psychic mystery series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRYFALLS. When not writing, reading, researching, or revising, she enjoys anythingarcane, ancient mysteries, and single malt scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yetbusy life in a southern tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her spoiledhubby, and two shiny red e-bikes.
Learnmore about Sharon Ledwith on her WEBSITE and BLOG. Look up her AMAZONAUTHORpage for a list of current books. Stay connected on FACEBOOK, TWITTER, LINKEDIN, INSTAGRAM, and GOODREADS.
BONUSES:Download the free PDF short story The Terrible, Mighty Crystal HERE
Download the free PDF writing resource Tips, Tools & Tricks for the Tenacious Writer HERE
July 13, 2025
Dedicated to the One I Love
From Carol Browne
When you pick up a book, do you turnquickly to chapter one, or do you check out the dedication first? Perhaps, likeme, you are intrigued to know who the book is dedicated to and why? If there isa name but no explanation for it, I always wonder what that person did to havetheir name immortalised in this way.
If you’re an author, your work might notnecessarily be dedicated to the one you love. It could be to someone yourespect, admire, or have reason to thank. Many dedications are humorous andplayful and there are many examples of these online, but if you have put yourpassion and energy into a novel, which is a time-consuming and difficultundertaking, the dedication ought to be as weighty as the dedication you neededto write it.
In my first book, The Exile of Elindel, the dedication reads, ‘For Harry’, andreaders might speculate that he is my husband, son, brother, or whatever.Actually, Harry was my dog for sixteen years and he saw me through one of themost challenging periods of my life. I don’t think The Exile of Elindel would exist had I not had Harry to give me areason to get up every morning when everything was falling apart.
After Book 1, my ideas for a sequelsolidified into a novel mainly because a close friend wanted to read it. So, Book2, Gateway to Elvendom, was dedicatedto that friend, Pat Longmuir. Even an audience of one is sufficient reason towrite a book!
Books 1 and 2 called for a third book totie up all the loose ends and bring everything to a satisfying conclusion. Whenit was written, I knew it should be dedicated to the memory of my niece, BryonyCawley, who was tragically killed while only in her early 30s. She had leftEngland while very young and lived a fearless, adventurous life in other lands,so we were apart, but I remembered a conversation we had two weeks before herdeath. It occurred to me at the time that she was wise beyond her years and whenshe died, I wondered if she had learned everything she needed to and gone on tosomething better. I didn’t know what to do to honour her life, but I wanted itto be recorded somewhere. Dedicating Wyrd’sEnd, the third book in my trilogy, to Bryony seemed to be a good way for meto pay tribute to the memory of this very special human being.
As writers we can always thank people inthe acknowledgements at the end of the book, but to dedicate an entire book tosomeone is a unique tribute and a lasting memorial to a person who has had asignificant impact on the author’s life. After all, when you have put somethingout into the world which will exist as long as literature does, it seemsfitting to make your dedication a special gift to posterity.
Here is a brief intro to Book One of Carol's exciting trilogy.
Banished from Elvendom and forced to seek refuge among the Saxons, young Elgiva faces a grim future - until she crosses paths with Godwin, a Briton enslaved by the people she must now call allies.
When a dark power rises to claim dominion over Elvendom, Elgiva and Godwin set off on a dangerous quest for the legendary Lorestone: the only thing that can stop the looming darkness. With a reluctant elf boy as their guide and a stubborn pony by their side, they must navigate the treacherous land and harness ancient magic before it’s too late.
As battle lines are drawn, Elgiva must embrace her true heritage, and Godwin must learn to wield the secret power he possesses. But can they find the Lorestone in time - or will Elvendom fall forever?
An historical fantasy adventure set in 6th century Britain, THE EXILE OF ELINDEL is the first book in Carol Browne's The Elwardain Chronicles series.
Once upon a time a little girl wrote a poem about a flower. Impressed, her teacher pinned it to the wall and, in doing so, showed the child which path to follow.
Over the years poems and stories flowed from her pen like magic from a wizard’s wand.
She is much older now, a little wiser too, and she lives in rural Cambridgeshire, where there are many trees to hug.
But inside her still is that little girl who loved Nature and discovered the magic of words.
She hopes to live happily ever after.
Stay connected with Carol on her website and blog, Facebook, and Twitter.
July 6, 2025
Copasetic
Cool language from Can’t Stop the Music
by C.D. Hersh
Slang has always played a part in the English language, no matter the era, and when you’re creating a period piece, the story wouldn’t be complete without the use of the slang of the time.A lot of the hippie slang in our book, Can’t Stop the Music, had its origins in earlier eras.
Take the slang for money—in the 20s someone who was hip (a 20s and 60s word) might call money Cabbage. In the 30s the slang term morphed to Buck. In the 50s you would have said, Bread. By the time the slang reached the 60s the terms Bread and Dough were used interchangeable, and the term Buck was still around as well.
Various slang terms for policeman have also survived the decades and are still being used today. Police officers have been called Flatfoot, Cop, Fuzz (1920); Copper (1930); Heat (1950); Fuzz, Cop, The Man (1960). The Man was probably the most popular term for police among the hippie generation.Slang terms for women, especially attractive women, have abounded through the past decades. In the 20s women were often called Dames or Dish. In the 30s a pretty girl would be a Hot Tomato. Fifties terms for women included Chicks, Barn Burners, Dolls. In the 60s, the most commonly used slang was Chicks or Birds.
We’ve heard, and even used some of the above slang, although we don’t use it as freely as we might have in the 60s. Still, it was fun going back and searching out the slang of our youth. We were amazed how much of the groovy language from bygone eras has survived into present day.
We don’t want to seem like Abercrombies (20’s/know-it-alls) but we kinda blew our wigs (20s/became very excited) when our peepers (20s/eyes) landed on this >b>groovy (60s/great) subject. We thought it would be a blast (60s/ a lot of fun) if we clued you in (60s/informed you) on the story. And now, we’re going to make tracks (60s/leave) so you can read the outtasight (60s/fantastic) excerpt from our story, Can’t Stop the Music, set in Woodstock, where the music was hip (60s/very cool, far out (60s/wonderful) and righteous (something really great).
Can’t Stop the MusicBy C.D. Hersh
For college senior and hippie wannabe Rosemary—Rose for short—a teaching job is within her grasp, but she wants more. She wants love, the kind of love that has bound her parents for so many years. When she’s dumped by her current boyfriend because her morals can’t bring her to give in to free love, she finds herself at Woodstock in the middle of the biggest free-love, music festival of the Sixties. Alone, again. Until a magical tree grants her wish and she finds the man of her dreams—and loses him before she really knows who he is.
Dakota meets the girl of his dreams at Woodstock, but a jealous wannabe girlfriend drives them apart before he can discover Rose’s last name and where she comes from. After he sees a disappearing tree that promises him true love, a frantic search to find Rose comes up empty-handed.
Magic and music brings them together at Woodstock in 1969. Misunderstandings tear them apart. Will two flower children find one another again, or live with missed opportunities?
Bethel, New York
August 1969
Rosemary Sterling pulled her striped, gauzy maxiskirt to her knees, stuck her sandaled feet out the rear passenger door opening of her friend Willow’s ’51 Woodie, and wiggled her toes. Sweat rolled down the center of her back. Not even a tiny breeze tickled the air on the crowded, one-lane road to the Woodstock Music Festival.
The heat radiating from the string of cars stretching in front and in back of her only added to the hot, summer air. Most of the vehicles’ occupants lounged on the hoods, the dirt road, or sat cross-legged on the ground, smoking pot or playing their guitars, their psychedelic clothing bright spots of neon color against the deep-green grass.
“How much longer before we find out what the holdup is?” she called as she exited the steamy vehicle.
Shielding her eyes, Willow straightened from her slouched position against the side of the car and peered between the row of stopped cars. “I see Bodi coming now. Maybe he’s found out what’s causing the traffic jam.”
“Aren’t you burning up?” Rose flapped the bottom of her cotton peasant blouse to stave off the hot, humid air. When the motion didn’t cool the sweat running between her breasts, she jammed the fabric under her boobs, swiping at the damp flesh. Then she clambered onto the sun-scorched hood, careful to tuck her skirt under her bare legs.
“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into burning my bra last night.” She glanced at Willow, envying her pert A-cups. You couldn’t tell Willow’s girls were unchained. “Even that thin layer would have kept the sweat off. Bra burning might be the rage right now, and that’s fine for someone built like you. For C-cups or bigger, loose boobs are a drag. Pun intended.”
Willow laughed. “You’ll get used to it. Once you do, you’ll see the advantage.”
So far the only thing her hippie friend introduced her to that she’d embraced was the shortened flower name Willow had given her.
“Rosemary’s the name of your grandmother, not a flower child. I’m renaming you Rose,” Willow had said.
Jake and Starr, the other two in their group, came around the side of the Woodie. Jake’s tangled curls looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Grass stuck out of Starr’s hair in a green corona. She doubted they’d been doing anything that merited halos.
Frowning, she slid off the hood, motioned Starr over, and began picking grass from her braids. “I hope you two weren’t cavorting in poison ivy. I don’t think we packed any anti-itch lotion.”
“You should cavort sometime, Rose.” Starr gave her a friendly shove. “You need to loosen up, girl. Partake of free love.”
She couldn’t get used to free love either. “No thanks.”
Can’t Stop The MusicUnfortunately, not currently available
Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They've written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after, and that’s why they write romance.
In addition to writing Catherine and Donald love antiquing, traveling, singing, and going to the theatre. Catherine is also an avid gardener and has drawn Donald into her garden as a day laborer. They figure the couple who plays together and works together, stays together—and that's just what they aim to do.
Second Editions Coming Soon:
Ghosts and Gardenias
The Promised One The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 1
Blood Brothers The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2
Son of the Moonless Night The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3
The Mercenary and the Shifters The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 4
Social Media Info:
June 29, 2025
It's a Peach, Hon!
From Sloane Taylor
A sizzling summer deserves a cool dessert. This tasty treat is one my family loves and because it’s so easy to make we have it often.
Peach Crumble
1 – 15.25 oz. can peach chunks in heavy sauce½ tsp. cinnamon1½ tbsp. cornstarch¼ cup apple juice
Pour peaches into a small saucepan. Stir in remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil, lower heat and cook for 1 minute. Stir constantly so the mixture doesn’t burn. If the sauce is too thick add more apple juice one tablespoon at a time.
Scoop peach mixture into an ungreased 1 quart, or slightly smaller, ovenproof casserole. Individual ramekins work well, too.
Topping½ cup flour½ cup sugar2 tbsp. butter or margarine, cut into bitsPreheat oven to 375° F.
Combine flour and sugar in a small bowl. Add butter bits then use your fingertips to blend the mixture into coarse crumbs. Sprinkle over peaches.
Bake 20 – 25 minutes or until topping is a lightly golden.
Serve smothered in whipped cream.
May you enjoy all the days of your life filled with good friends, laughter, and seated around a well-laden table!
Sloane
Sloane Taylor is an Award-Winning author with a second passion in her life. She is an avid cook and posts new recipes on her blog every Wednesday. The recipes are user friendly, meaning easy.To learn more about Taylor go to her website Stay in touch on Blogger , Twitter , and LinkedIn .
Taylor's cookbooks, Hot Mean Wear Aprons, Date Night Dinners, Date Night Dinners Italian Style, Sizzling Summer, and Recipes to Create Holidays Extraordinaire are released by Toque & Dagger Publishing and available at all book vendors.
June 22, 2025
International Kissing Day
by C.D. Hersh
If you haven’t kissed your significant other, your children, your parents, or other family members today, get offline and do so. After you read our blog, of course, because July 6th, is International Kissing Day.
Kissing Day was first celebrated in the UK and now is an international celebration in all the countries where kissing is part of the culture. Kissing was not a custom of many indigenous peoples and is believed to have been introduced to indigenous peoples through European settlement. Hooray for Europe!
According to recent research, kissing is also good for you too. It burns calories (about 2-3 calories a minute), it’s good for your heart (it creates an adrenalin that causes your heart to pump more blood), it helps prevent tooth decay, is a stress reliever, and it boosts your immunity. And if boosting your health isn’t enough reason to have a few smooches, consider this … it just feels good.
There are many ways to kiss. Here are a few:
• Passionate kissesthe goodnight kiss that lasts forever when you’re young and head over heels in lovethe French kiss the hickey kiss the upside-down Spiderman kiss the bittersweet kiss, often shared between star crossed lovers as they leave each other• Affectionate kisses kissing the boo boos away the top of the head kiss the forehead kiss, a motherly sort of kiss, the awkward first kiss
• Greeting kisses the European double cheek kiss of greeting the kiss on the cheek, often the hello and goodbye kisses we give friends and family
• Insincere kisses the betrayal kiss of Judas the air kiss often practiced as a sham action the kiss of death
• Kisses that don’t involve touching lips the Eskimo kiss, rubbing noses instead of touching lips the butterfly kiss, done by fluttering the eyelashes against the cheekhand kissing, a lost art except in historical romances which can be romantic or a greeting to a lady the kiss you smack into your hand and throw to someone body kisses (‘Nuff said’)
Writers of romance often concern themselves with the more passionate kisses, but there’s something to be said for using sweeter kisses in our stories too. Not every kiss shared by a couple is going to set off fireworks. Sometimes you need the love without the rollercoaster ride to add some levels to the romance. Consider incorporating some sweeter, more affectionate kisses in your love scenes. You might be surprised at what happens between your characters when they hold back a little on the ardor.
Have you kissed someone today?
Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They've written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after, and that’s why they write romance.
In addition to writing Catherine and Donald love antiquing, traveling, singing, and going to the theatre. Catherine is also an avid gardener and has drawn Donald into her garden as a day laborer. They figure the couple who plays together and works together, stays together—and that's just what they aim to do.
Second Editions Coming Soon:
Ghosts and Gardenias
The Promised One The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 1
Blood Brothers The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2
Son of the Moonless Night The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3
The Mercenary and the Shifters The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 4
Social Media Info:
June 16, 2025
Get Your Yum On
FromStella May
Ienjoy cooking and making healthy food for my family and, of course, sharing therecipes that are our favorites. Here is one for my yummy homemade mayothat tastes great on sandwiches, as the basis for salad dressing, along with atopping for chicken and fish. Needless to say, we are not buying store-boughtmayonnaise since…forever.
HomemadeMayonnaise1 large egg (must be roomtemperature)1 cup (240ml) neutral oil (I uselight olive oil)1 tbsp lemon juice1 tsp Dijon mustard
I don’t use salt and sugar
In a tall container or a food processor, add oil, egg, lemonjuice, and mustard.
Place an immersion blender at the bottom. Start blendingwithout moving it until the mayonnaise begins to form. Then slowly move theblender upward until the ingredients are fully combined.
If using a foodprocessor or whisk— add the oilslowly in a thin stream while continuously blending or whisking untilthe mayo thickens.
You can add a little seasoninglike salt or a pinch of sugar. I don’t. Or experimentwith flavors by adding garlic, herbs, or a touch of hot sauce.
Transfer the mayo to an airtight container and refrigerate.It lasts about 1 week in thefridge.
Enjoy!
Here is a peek at book one of Stella’s time travel romance series for your reading pleasure.
One key unlocks the love of a lifetime…but could alsobreak her heart.
Nika Morris’s sixth sense has helped build a successfulbusiness, lovingly restoring and reselling historic homes on Florida’s AmeliaIsland. But there’s one forlorn, neglected relic that’s pulled at her from themoment she saw it. The century-old Coleman house.
Quite unexpectedly, the house is handed to her on asilver platter—along with a mysterious letter, postmarked 1909, yet addressedpersonally to Nika. Its cryptic message: Find the key. You know where it is.Hurry, for goodness sake!
The message triggers an irresistible drive to findthat key. When she does, one twist in an old grandfather clock throws herback in time, straight into the arms of deliciously, devilishly handsome ElijahColeman.
Swept up in a journey of a lifetime, Nika finds herselffalling in love with Eli—and with the family and friends that inhabit a time noteven her vivid imagination could have conjured. But in one desperate moment ofhomesickness, she makes a decision that will not only alter the course of morethan one life, but break her heart.
’Til Time Do UsPartis available in Kindle and Paperback at AMAZON.
Talented author Stella May is the penname for Marina Sardarova who has a fascinating history you should read on her website. Stella writes fantasy romance as well as time travel romance. She is the author of 'Till Time Do Us Part, Book 1 in her Upon a Time series, and the stand-alone book Rhapsody in Dreams. Love and family are two cornerstones of her stories and life. Stella’s books are available in e-book and paperback through all major vendors.
When not writing, Stella enjoys classical music, reading, and long walks along the ocean. She lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her husband Leo of 35 years and their son George. They are her two best friends and are all partners in their family business.
Follow Stella on her website and blog Stay connected on Facebook, Twitter, and Pinterest.
June 8, 2025
Welcome to Atlantis
We've been expecting you.
from Sharon Ledwith
Legends. We love them. We can’t get enough of them. In fact, we NEED them. Legends connect humanity in ways we can’t fathom. A legend, by definition is a story handed down for generations among a people and popularly believed to have a historical basis, although not verifiable. In book one of my time travel series, The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis, Amanda Sault, her four classmates, and two tag-along adults are whisked through an arch they find buried in an overgrown garden and transported to the mythical continent of Atlantis. They’ve been summoned to become Timekeepers—legendary time travelers sworn to keep history safe from an evil force known only as Belial. Oh, BTW—they’re not just any Timekeepers—they’re the Last Timekeepers. No pressure, right? Well, maybe a smidgen.The Timekeepers first mission involves going back to 1214 England, actually Nottingham to be precise. There, Amanda and her time traveling cohorts meet an adolescent Robin Hood, although he is known as Robyn Hodekin to the people of Nottingham. So, here’s the rub—in The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis, what’s myth and what’s made-up? That’s when it’s up to the reader to seek the truth and dispel the lies.
The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis, Book One
Children are the key to our future. And now, they are the only hope for our past.
When 13-year-old Amanda Sault and her classmates land themselves in hot water after a cafeteria food fight, they're assigned to yard duty as punishment. After the kids uncover a mysterious stone arch hidden in the overgrown backyard owned by the Witch of White Pines, they learn that it's an ancient portal created by the lost civilization of Atlantis.
Chosen by an Atlantean Magus, Amanda and her reluctant companions are swept into the secret world of the Timekeepers: legendary guardians entrusted with preserving history from a sinister force known as Belial. Their first mission? Travel back to 13th-century England to ensure a young Robin Hood fulfills his legendary fate.
But time travel comes with strict rules, and one wrong move could rewrite the past... and erase the future.
Packed with high-stakes adventure and a touch of ancient magic, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS AND THE ARCH OF ATLANTIS is the first book in Sharon Ledwith's series of novels for middle grade readers and adults alike.
EXCERPT
They were almost inside the glowing archway. Its light felt warm and welcoming, like the rising summer sun. Treena stuck her thumbs in the straps of her khaki backpack as if it doubled as a magic parachute. Amanda mimicked Treena and grasped the straps on Jordan’s backpack that she was still wearing. Ravi was the only other person wearing one, so all the rest had nothing to break their fall if that light suddenly cut them loose.
The brilliant, fathomless glow swallowed Amanda, blinding her. Calm and silence overrode her senses. In that moment, two things happened—Amanda sensed that there was no separation between her and the others—as if they were all connected by these tiny threads of light. Second, she started to feel as though she were free falling, moving fast and out of control. She regained her vision, just as the white light exploded into a whirling rainbow.
Drake laughed. “Wicked! This feels like a ride at Disneyland!”
“It feels better than that!” Jordan replied. “I’ve been to Disneyland twice, and there’s no ride that even comes close to this!”
“It’s as if we can fly!” Treena shouted, doing a somersault in mid-air.
“It does feel wonderful, doesn’t it?” Melody said dreamily.
Amanda grabbed both ankles and flipped herself over. She giggled. This freedom, this feeling, this flux was awesome. The huge, spiraling rainbow surrounding the group of seven gently juggled them in mid-air like floating balls in a never-ending lottery game. She glanced over at Jordan’s uncle. His cheeks were sucked in, and his body flopped one way then another like a fish out of water.
“Is your uncle okay, Jordan?” she asked.
Jordan maneuvered over to his uncle by spreading his arms and legs wide as if he were a free-falling parachutist. He grasped his uncle’s shoulder and shook him. “Uncle John? Uncle John! Don’t make me slap you again!”
He reached over, grabbed Jordan, and kissed him on the forehead. “It’s all true, Jordan! It’s all true!”
Jordan squirmed. “What’s true?”
“Time flows through us,” he answered, his voice cracking as if he were a young boy again.
The whirling rainbow burst into shards of light, and they all touched bottom.
It felt soft—like a cushy trampoline—as Amanda, her classmates, Melody, and Professor Lucas bounced easily until they all stood still. Then the ground became solid again. Polished marble walls and finely crafted pillars materialized through the fading light. A sudden high-pitched buzzing noise made her wince. Everyone seemed to hear it too; they cringed in unison. The sound of waves crashing against a shore replaced the buzzing, and a set of deep purple curtains miraculously appeared in front of them. Amanda rubbed her eyes. In the time it took her to take a breath, the curtains were drawn. The brilliant white light that had pulled them into the stone arch now hovered between the open curtains. It started to radiate out, then draw in, out, then in, changing its shape with each rhythmic movement, until it finally transformed into a woman.
The woman was beautiful in an otherworldly way. She had long, fair, flowing hair adorned with quartz crystals. Piercing blue eyes stared back at Amanda like she was peering into her soul. She had a long narrow face with high cheek bones that tapered down to a firm chin. Her nose was long and slender. Amanda smiled at her. The woman smiled back. Her teeth were white, small, and even. She was perfect in every way. A rich-blue sleeveless linen robe adorned her slim body, accentuating her ivory skin.
I wonder if she’s a princess. Amanda didn’t doubt it, especially with all the jewelry the woman wore. A sparkling metallic snake bracelet wound around her left arm, a string of gleaming pearls and shells hung around her neck, and a silver belt strewn with various green, blue, and red gems hugged her waist. The only piece of clothing that didn’t seem to belong was a plain pair of woven sandals.
Melody pushed Drake behind her and took a few steps forward. “I demand that you tell us where we are!”
The beautiful woman gave Melody a gentle smile and nodded. She opened her arms wide and said, “Welcome to the Temple of Poseidon, in the City of the Golden Gates.”
Melody jerked. “I-I beg your pardon?”
“Atlantis,” Professor Lucas answered in a whisper. “We’re in Atlantis.”
UNIVERSAL BOOK LINK: https://books2read.com/u/4NE2kx
ADDED BONUS: The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis eBook is permanently free in all online bookstores! Welcome to Atlantis. We’ve been expecting you.
Here’s a glimpse of the premises of both my young adult series:
The Last Timekeepers Time Travel Adventures…
Chosen by an Atlantean Magus to be Timekeepers—legendary time travelers sworn to keep history safe from the evil Belial—five classmates are sent into the past to restore balance, and bring order back into the world, one mission at a time.
Children are the key to our future. And now, they are the only hope for our past.
Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls Teen Psychic Mysteries…
In the small, quiet tourist town of Fairy Falls, a new-to-town teen, an unlikely hero who possesses an unusual psychic ability, is drawn into a mystery and is tasked with uncovering corrupt truths that threaten the town’s future.
Welcome to Fairy Falls. Expect the unexpected.
Buy Links:
The Last Timekeepers Time Travel Adventure Series:
UNIVERSAL BUY LINK ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
The Last Timekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis, Book 1 Buy Links:
UNIVERSAL BUY LINK ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
Legend of the Timekeepers, Prequel Buy Links:
UNIVERSAL BUY LINK ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls Teen Psychic Mystery Series:
Lost & Found, Book One Buy Links:
PANDAMONIUM PUBLISHING HOUSE ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
Blackflies & Blueberries, Book Two Buy Links:
PANDAMONIUM PUBLISHING HOUSE ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES & NOBLE ׀
Sharon Ledwith is the author of the middle-grade/young adult time travel adventure series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, and the award-winning teen psychic mystery series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, reading, researching, or revising, she enjoys anything arcane, ancient mysteries, and single malt scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a southern tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her spoiled hubby, and two shiny red e-bikes.
Learn more about Sharon Ledwith on her WEBSITE and BLOG. Look up her AMAZON AUTHOR page for a list of current books. Stay connected on FACEBOOK, TWITTER, LINKEDIN, INSTAGRAM, and GOODREADS.
BONUSES:
Download the free PDF short story The Terrible, Mighty Crystal HERE
Download the free PDF writing resource Tips, Tools & Tricks for the Tenacious Writer HERE
June 1, 2025
Be Pleasant, It Pays Off
I became a teacher at the tender age of 45. All puffed up from my real-world experiences, and despite Welcome Back, Kotter, Boston Public, and Stand and Deliver, to name just a few depictions of struggles in the classroom, I figured teaching inner-city high school kids would be cake. Sigh…
When my on-camera TV career fizzled—a direct correlation to my nearing 40—spent a few years underemployed, until several acquaintances, at about the same time, enthusiastically suggested I become a teacher. Now I had never given teaching any thought. Zero! I laughed off the idea. After all, I was a dyslexic, academically underachieving high school student – who I must add here did pretty damn well in college after my brother bet me I’d flunk out the first semester.
But then my financial situation became more tenuous: you try paying the bills by officiating youth sports and working for seven bucks an hour as a part-time reporter at a small local newspaper. So, I went back to school.
It took me two years to get my teaching certification, and before I ever stepped foot in a real classroom – I hadn’t even had the chance to do my eight weeks of student teaching – I was hired to teach video production and journalism in a high school communication arts magnet program in Phoenix, Arizona.
I learned quickly that I had replaced a beloved teacher who was popular for throwing pizza parties and allowing the students to do pretty much anything they wanted. Then, I stepped in, spouting responsibility and deadlines and maturity and professionalism.
I realized just how bad things were when one day a diminutive teen – the prettiest and most outspoken child in the room – stood up and declared that the students didn’t need me. That they had learned all they needed to know from their previous teacher. Then, she walked out, in the middle of class. To my horror, every one of my students followed her.
And so I stood at the front of the classroom, staring at all those empty seats, and I started to cry. A few “poor me” moments passed before the door opened. A tiny teacher, the “elder statesman” of the department who always had a faint whiff of nicotine wafting about her, watched me above reading glasses attached to a rainbow-colored beaded chain.
“They just left!” I motioned to the empty seats.
She nodded, walked over, and placed her hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be fine,” she said.
I turned away, embarrassed that she had seen tears slipping down my cheeks.
I continued to bulldoze my way through school days, expounding on life in the “real world” and reminding my students that if they wanted to succeed and make something of themselves, they had better get with the program.
It was then that another long-time teacher sat me down after what had been a particularly tough day in the classroom.
“Have you considered being . . . nicer?” she asked.“Nicer? What do you mean?”She leaned back in her chair. “Just . . . nicer. It might help.”
“Nicer. I’d spent my previous life in newsrooms and on ballfields as an official, where “nice” was never part of the equation. You did your job, deflected unkind comments, and never let anyone see you cry.
About five years ago, I once again found myself replacing a popular teacher. Predictably, the students – mostly seniors – rebelled against the changes I made and my style of teaching. Even though I was a much more experienced teacher now, I struggled. Everyday. By the end of the school year, I was exhausted. Some of my students wouldn’t even speak to me.
During the last week of the school year, we held a department awards ceremony, where we fed the students lunch and handed out plaques, honoring those who stood out. Then the seniors got up and spoke about their time in the program, about leaving their classmates as they headed out into the world, and about the teachers who meant so much to them.
I listened to all the kind words, and watched as the other teachers, eyes glistening, accepted accolades from their students. One after another, the seniors spoke. Some cried. A few nodded in my direction as they retook their seats, but none of them said anything about me.
Then one young man stood up and faced the group. I had been especially demanding of him over the years. He wanted to be a film director. I spent a lot of time critiquing his video productions. Outside of class, we’d work on college and scholarship applications. Sometimes we’d talk about the difficulties he’d had growing up and his time in foster care. I can’t recall exactly what he spoke about initially that day, but then I heard him say my name.
“And, Ms. Montgomery,” he beamed me a smile. “I think of her as mom.” Then he walked over and put his arms around me.
Nice, indeed.
I have finished my 17th year in the classroom. As my students will tell you, I can sometimes be a tough teacher. I’m still demanding, at times. Though now, I find myself saying good morning to students I don’t even know, and I take the time to ask how things are going when a student seems down. It’s not that I no longer preach responsibility and deadlines and maturity and professionalism. It’s just that I’m…well…nicer.
Here is a brief peek at Anne's latest release.Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to the Graves Registration Service where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?
Praise for Your Forgotten Sons
“Although a defty crafted work of original fiction, “Your Forgotten Sons” by Anne Montgomery is inspired by a true story. An original and inherently interesting read from start to finish, “Your Forgotten Sons” will prove to be an immediate and enduringly appreciated pick.” Midwest Book Review
“This was a quick, riveting read that really challenged me to think differently about our servicemen and women, especially those who take on the jobs that don’t get heroically depicted in the media or news…I really highly recommend this book to anyone that is looking for a different take on American history. I left it with a newfound appreciation for the unsung heroes.” Bekah C NetGalley
“This is the truth. It’s gritty and painful and bittersweet – and true. When you think you’ve read every perspective of WWII, along comes Bud to break your heart.” Bridgett Siter Former Military Reporter
“Anne Montgomery writes a strong story and I was hooked from the first page. It had a great concept and I enjoyed that this was inspired by a true story…It was written perfectly and I was invested in the story. Anne Montgomery has a great writing style and left me wanting to read more.” – Kathryn McLeer NetGalley
Available at Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Google Books, and Kobo
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 on her website , Wikipedia , Facebook , Linkedin , and Twitter .
