Sharon Ledwith's Blog

A Recipe and a Read: Homemade Hummus and a Time Travel Romance Read by Author Stella May...

There is a lot ofdebate about the origin of hummus; whether it’s Greek, Egyptian, or Lebanese.It is thought to have originated in Lebanon and traveled all over the MiddleEastern regions. This unique food has been prepared for hundreds of years andis well-loved around the world.

So, what is hummus?Hummus is a bean dip made primarily by blending cooked chickpeas, tahini (a creamy sesame seed paste), garlic,lemon juice, extra virgin olive oil, and seasonings. Once you make it at home,I promise you will never return to store bought.

There are wonderful foodsyou can dip into hummus. They include broccoli, carrot and celery sticks,cauliflower, cukes, pita chips, pretzels, radishes, and any other crunchyveggie. Let your imagination soar.

Stella’s Easy Hummus5-6tbsp. freshly squeezed lemon juice1½ tsp.sea salt2 lg garliccloves, finely minced or grated⅔ cup Tahini 6-8tbsp. ice water3 cupsof cooked (pre-soaked overnight) chickpeas or 30 oz canned chickpeas¼ cupextra virgin olive oil1pinch black pepperpaprikaand freshly chopped parsley for garnish

Ina food processor – combine5 tablespoons lemon juice, salt, and garlic. Pulse to combine then letit rest for a few minutes.

AddTahini and blend until thick and smooth, scraping down the bowl as neededwith a spatula.

Addice water 1 tablespoon at a time with the blender running. Stop and scrapedown the bowl as needed.

Drainthe chickpeas then pour them into the food processor along with theolive oil and pepper. Blend until completely smooth, about 5 minutes. Scrapedown the bowl a couple of times. Add more ice water to reach your desiredconsistency.

Seasonto taste with more salt and lemon juice if needed.

ToServe – transfer to a serving bowl, sprinkle the top with paprikaand sprinkle parsley.

Enjoy!

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

SoHo,1962

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

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

Mostwomen would be thrilled to learn that the tall, handsome bar musician is, infact, a wealthy prince charming. Verochka Osipoff is less than impressed. She’sfocused 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 theheat of their attraction melts Verochka’s heart like warm chocolate. But JJ’sworld is a cold, glittering nest of vipers. And their venom could destroy theirlove song before the first movement ends.

EXCERPT

The sound of asaxophone 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? Strainingher ears, she looked around, searching the almost empty street. Guided by herhearing, she glanced at the closed doors on her right. The Broome Street Bar.Inside, the sax murmured its enchanting tale, sad, and touching, andheartbreaking.

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

Verochkaclosed her eyesand 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 andsensual. Strange, but she never paid attention to jazz before. Then again, she wasnever partial to any music except classical.

To her there was nothing and no onecompared to Tchaikovsky. But the soulful notes of that sax fascinated her asmuch 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 mentionquite dangerous. Granted, this spot in SoHo was not prone to crime. But still.A young woman alone was bound to attract some attention.  Verochkalooked at the closed door of the bar, biting her lip.

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

Tired after the longday of classes and rehearsals, then cleaning the premises, Verochka barely kept upright. She hated her after- hours janitorialobligations, but promise was a promise. And VerochkaOsipoff never broke her word.

No matter how spentshe was, each and every evening, after all the dancers went home, and theschool 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-oldorphan from France, determined to reach her dream, Verochka arrived at the doors of the famous New York ballet schoolwith nothing but fifty dollars to her name and a small satchel that belonged toher father.

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

Her final verdictdelivered 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 probationaryperiod of three months. After that, we’ll see.”

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

On top of it, she wasa foreigner, all alone in the strange country, and barely able to speakEnglish.

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

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

The convenience ofliving on the premises saved her the expense of a rent, and occasionalparticipation in corps de ballet’s performances made everything elsemanageable. She didn’t need a lot of food, as her extremely strict diet fell mostlyinto yogurt and fruit category. As to clothes— she learned at her dancing parentsknee 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. Hermain goal to become a prima ballerina of The Royal Ballet took the precedenceover 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 thatdream. She was content, and happy, and along the way, fell in love with NewYork, her new home. Her only home. She learned English, and became quite fluentin it, even though her accent stubbornly refused to be erased.

Of course, she missedFrance, 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, shemissed her parents. She was sure they were looking at her from heaven, smiling,proud of her accomplishments.

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

But not tonight.

After finishing herduties, Verochka was ambushed by a sadnessso huge, she almost doubled down with it. Suffocated in the large emptybuilding that housed the ballet school, she was lonely, isolated, until shecouldn’t bear another minute longer locked inside. Hence, her impromptu eveningwalk that brought her in the middle of SoHo, to the Broome Street Bar.

The plaintive soundsof sax reached her ears again.

Oh,yeas, please.

Listening to thoseseductive low rumbles, she wondered about the player.

Available at BOOKStoREAD, AMAZON, and GOOGLE PLAY BOOKS.

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 with her husband. She lives in Jacksonville, Florida with her husband Leo of 25 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. 

Author in the Garden: Celebrate Fall with a Garden Full of Mums and a Cozy Mystery Read by Janis Lane...

It’s almost that time of year again. Nothing is more refreshingthan a vivid blue sky accented by fiery leaves of the hard woods, yellows ofthe aspens and some maples, and various reds of the underbrush. Many shades oforange and yellow are accented by the dark greens of spruce and pines. Autumnis foliage showing off and we love it. It’s nature’s last hurrah before thesettling of wintertime and rest.

The flower gardens are looking a bit seedy (they have causeas they are making next year’s seeds.) Have your Hibiscus, Rose of Sharon,Obedience Plant finished? Sunflowers are nodding their heavy heads with birdsand rodents feasting on the bounty of oil rich seeds. For relief we turn to aplant we nicknamed, MUM, but it is so not mum as it speaks with rich fallcolors on a plant that stays tidy and easily tucked into existing gardens. Chrysanthemum hasbeen shortened to mum; the real name almost forgotten.

Are mums perennial? Do they survive the freezing temps and come back nextyear. The answer is . . . maybe. Indeed, the plant is cold hardy at least toagricultural zone 4/5. So why have so many gardeners been disappointed when themums succumb to the cold? Might be from too much love? Actually, mums arefairly tough plants that need little attention to thrive. The problem is a shallowroot system. Simply put, it cannot stay in the ground during frost heaves whichcome and go with a changing temperature.

Give it up. You aren’t about to run out every time a warm day and a frostfreeze night happens. It’s probably many more nights than you suspect. Mulch isthe best remedy. A good mulch will cut down on the possibility of the shallowrooted plant being thrust out of the ground and left high and dry to die.

 Two other remedies: Stick a pot ortwo of your favorite colors in a corner of the garage and give a sip of wateroccasionally. It might work; worth a try.

Next is treat the low-cost mum plant like an annual and don’t worry aboutit. Just buy new next year.

 I’ve done all of the above withvarious successes. I refuse to give up new and different colors, so I buy everyyear. I, also, cover my favorite yellows with solid mulch and try to rememberto trim until the 4th of July. (Otherwise, they grow leggy andunattractive.) I’ve been known to pot up an unusual color I want to try andsave and tuck it into a corner of the garage. It works maybe half the time. Idon’t get upset with failures, as I remember mums are not expensive and I canreplace them as autumn approaches. It’s a lovely plant; indulge and enjoy.

Here's a look at oneof my cozy mysteries to warm your heart: MURDER AT THE LOOKOUT, 4THin the Detective Kevin Fowler series. 

When is it not fun to be a blond? 

What happenswhen a blond beauty hits town like a tornado stirring up memories and causingturmoil? Detective Kevin Fowler and his wife, the former Beverly Hampton, ownerof the local newspaper, are settling into blissful married life. AlthoughBeverly is sanguine over the demand on Kevin’s time by the good people ofHubbard, she is more than dubious when his duties include the escort of adrop-dead gorgeous female from his past.

There is some concern over the persistentvandalism of residential mailboxes, but an infamous arsonist has decidedpeaceful but dull Hubbard would make a great place from which to operate. Hebrazenly locates down the block from the detective and his wife.

What bait and tackle shop in the village has adual purpose? Kevin ponders why two goons have invaded town shooting at andattempting to kidnap and murder three women. A state patrolman, aptly nicknamed Rooster, teases Fowler at the riotous scene of a traffic accident wherethe press, not the police, wins the day.

Another mystery and adventure with a satisfyingending unfolds in peaceful Hubbard, New York, small-town Americana, whereDetective Kevin Fowler keeps an ever-vigilant watch.

Amazon Buy Link

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 .

Now that School's Back, Cookbook Author Sloane Taylor Serves Up a Pizzeria Perfect Recipe...

This easy recipe is perfect for busy weekendswhen all you want is a tasty meal and a cold beverage. I use sausage, but don’tlet that stop you. Add on whatever toppings suit you right after the meat. Thecooking time remains the same. The secret to making this pizza extra good isthe grated Parmesan cheese. Our grandson, Dakota, works at an Italianrestaurant and offered this suggestion. GREAT addition.

MENUQuick & EasyPizzaSalad with CreamyGarlic DressingDry White Wine –Pinto Grigio or Cold Peroni Beer

 

Quick& Easy Pizza

1lb. Italian sausage, preferably bulk type
1tube refrigerated pizza dough
2oz. tomato paste, freeze remainder to use in other recipesChickenstock, not broth1tbsp. garlic powder, not salt1tbsp. oregano1tbsp. basil1tsp. sugarFreshlyground pepper to tasteParmesancheese, gratedOliveoil to drizzle1½ cups mozzarella cheese, shredded 

Preheatoven to 425°. 

Place sausage in cold frying pan set overmedium heat. Break into small chunks as you sauté it until no longer pink,about 15 minutes. Adjust heat so as not to burn sausage. If you use linksausage then squeeze it from the casing before frying. 

Scoop tomato paste into a measuring cup. Stirin enough chicken stock to bring the blend to just under two-thirds cup. Mix ingarlic, oregano, basil, sugar, and pepper until well blended. You may need alittle more stock to make the mixture more sauce like. Don’t add too much oryour crust will soggy. 

If you use a pizza pan then sprinkle justa little cornmeal or flour on. This helps absorb the moisture while baking tomaintain a crisp crust. It isn’t necessary with a pizza stone. 

Spread out the dough on the pan/stone. Smearsauce on top and spread to the edges. Grate a healthy amount of Parmesan overthe dough. 

Cascade sausage and your other toppings ontothe pie. Drizzle with oil. Bake 12 minutes. 

Remove pan/stone from oven. Scatter mozzarellaacross the top. Turn off the oven then set the pizza inside. Allow pizza to remainuntil the cheese is melted, about 5 minutes. 

Cut into squares and enjoy!

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.

Guest Post: Dedicated to the One I Love by Epic Fantasy Author 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.

UNIVERSAL BOOK LINK

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. 

Author in the Kitchen: A Zucchini Spaghetti Carbonara Recipe and a Sweet Romance Snippet by Catherine Castle...

Traditional carbonara sauce has an egg and cheese sauce added to the spaghetti just before serving. I don’t care for eggs added to things at the last minute, so I eliminated the eggs and sauce and came up with my own version of carbonara. I hope you’ll like it as much as we do.

Zucchini Spaghetti Carbonara ala Catherine
6 slices thick bacon4 oz. whole wheat spaghetti2.5 oz. can sliced black olives, drained1 cup diced or chunked ham1 med. zucchini, cut lengthwise and sliced thin½ cup grated Parmesan cheese 

Divide bacon into 4and 2 slices. Prepare 4 slices for microwaving by placing between 2 papertowels on a microwave safe plate. Microwave for 3 minutes until crisp. Removefrom paper while still warm and crumble. 

Dice remaining 2slices and place in a large skillet, cooking until crisp. 

While bacon iscooking, boil water for spaghetti and cook as directed on package until pastais firm. Drain fully when cooked. 

While pasta iscooking, sauté ham and zucchini with diced bacon until zucchini is tender. 

Drain any excessliquid from the pan. 

Add olives andcooked drained spaghetti to zucchini and bacon, tossing to mix. 

Remove from heat andadd parmesan cheese, tossing quickly to keep cheese from clumping. 

Top with crumbledbacon and serve. 

Makes 2 generous main dish servings or 4 side dishes. 

Note: additional cheese may be sprinkled on top of pastaafter serving, if desired. 

This dish makes upquick, so you won’t have time to read a book while it’s cooking, but after thedishes are done, check out Catherine’s sweet romantic comedy with a touch of drama, A Groom For Mama. Here's a snippet... 

BeverlyWalters is dying, and before she goes she has one wish—to find a groom for herdaughter. To get the deed done, Mama enlists the dating service of JackSomerset, Allison’s former boyfriend. 

The lastthing corporate-climbing Allison wants is a husband. Furious with Mama’smeddling, and a bit more interested in Jack than she wants to admit, Allisonagrees to the scheme as long as Mama promises to search for a cure for herterminal illness. 

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

Second Edition Coming Soon

Multi-awardwinning authorCatherine Castle loves writing. Before beginning her career as a romance writer sheworked part-time as a freelance writer. She has over 600 articles andphotographs to her credit, under her real name, in the Christian and secularmarket. She also lays claim to over 300 internet articles written on a varietyof subjects and several hundred poems. In addition to writing she lovesreading, traveling, singing, theatre, quilting and gardening. She’s a passionategardener whose garden won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the localgardening club. She writes sweet and inspirational romances.

Follow her onTwitter@AuthorCCastle, FB or her blog.

Five Classmates. Two Time Portals. What Could Possibly Go Wrong…

Themonth of September marks new beginnings. For some it’s their very first day ofschool. For others, it’s moving up a grade or even on to high school, collegeor university. For many, it’s back to work, a return to routines, and movingforward in the new season. However, autumn also marks the harvest season forhard-working farmers who reap what they have sown throughout the late springand summer. I’m harvesting my own kind of crop by bundling Books 1-3 of theLast Timekeepers series so readers can escape to the past, and have a blast anytimeof the year. Your reading adventure awaits…

Blurbs:

Books1-3 in the Last Timekeepers series now available in one volume. Escape to thepast and have a blast!

The LastTimekeepers and the Arch of Atlantis: After 13-year-old Amanda Sault and her classmates uncover amysterious stone arch, they learn that it's an ancient portal created by thelost civilization of Atlantis. Chosen by an Atlantean Magus, Amanda and hercompanions are swept into the secret world of the Timekeepers: legendaryguardians entrusted with preserving history from a sinister force known asBelial.

The LastTimekeepers and the Dark Secret:In Nazi-occupied Amsterdam during World War 2, the Last Timekeepers are taskedwith locating an ancient book before it falls into enemy hands. With help fromthe Dutch Resistance and a mysterious baron, they must stay one step ahead of aregime determined to silence the truth.

The LastTimekeepers and the Noble Slave:On his third Timekeeper mission, eleven-year-old Drake Bailey must confront adark chapter of history: the antebellum South. In a time of fear and cruelty,Drake must outwit his captors, protect a vital bloodline, and find the courageto break the chains that threaten to destroy him. Do the Timekeepers have whatit takes to complete their mission and protect the timeline?

Excerpt from The Last Timekeepersand the Arch of Atlantis:

They were almost inside the glowing archway. Its light feltwarm and welcoming, like the rising summer sun. Treena stuck her thumbs in thestraps of her khaki backpack as if it doubled as a magic parachute. Amandamimicked Treena and grasped the straps on Jordan’s backpack that she was stillwearing. Ravi was the only other person wearing one, so all the rest hadnothing to break their fall if that light suddenly cut them loose.

The brilliant, fathomless glow swallowed Amanda, blindingher. Calm and silence overrode her senses. In that moment, two thingshappened—Amanda sensed that there was no separation between her and theothers—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 ofcontrol. She regained her vision, just as the white light exploded into awhirling rainbow.

Drake laughed. “Wicked! This feels like a ride atDisneyland!”

“It feels better than that!” Jordan replied. “I’ve been toDisneyland twice, and there’s no ride that even comes close to this!”

“It’s as if we can fly!” Treena shouted, doing a somersaultin mid-air.

“It does feel wonderful, doesn’t it?” Melody said dreamily.

Amanda grabbed both ankles and flipped herself over. Shegiggled. This freedom, this feeling, this flux was awesome. The huge, spiralingrainbow surrounding the group of seven gently juggled them in mid-air likefloating balls in a never-ending lottery game. She glanced over at Jordan’suncle. His cheeks were sucked in, and his body flopped one way then anotherlike a fish out of water.

“Is your uncle okay, Jordan?” she asked.

Jordan maneuvered over to his uncle by spreading his armsand legs wide as if he were a free-falling parachutist. He grasped his uncle’sshoulder and shook him. “Uncle John? Uncle John! Don’t make me slap you again!”

He reached over, grabbed Jordan, and kissed him on theforehead. “It’s all true, Jordan! It’s all true!”

Jordan squirmed. “What’s true?”

“Time flows through us,” he answered, his voicecracking as if he were a young boy again.

The whirling rainbow burst into shards of light, and theyall touched bottom.

It felt soft—like a cushy trampoline—as Amanda, herclassmates, Melody, and Professor Lucas bounced easily until they all stoodstill. Then the ground became solid again. Polished marble walls and finelycrafted pillars materialized through the fading light. A sudden high-pitchedbuzzing noise made her wince. Everyone seemed to hear it too; they cringed inunison. The sound of waves crashing against a shore replaced the buzzing, and aset of deep purple curtains miraculously appeared in front of them. Amandarubbed her eyes. In the time it took her to take a breath, the curtains weredrawn. The brilliant white light that had pulled them into the stone arch nowhovered between the open curtains. It started to radiate out, then draw in,out, then in, changing its shape with each rhythmic movement, until it finallytransformed into a woman.

The woman was beautiful in an otherworldly way. She hadlong, fair, flowing hair adorned with quartz crystals. Piercing blue eyesstared back at Amanda like she was peering into her soul. She had a long narrowface with high cheek bones that tapered down to a firm chin. Her nose was longand 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 linenrobe adorned her slim body, accentuating her ivory skin.

I wonder if she’s a princess. Amanda didn’t doubt it, especially with all the jewelrythe 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 beltstrewn with various green, blue, and red gems hugged her waist. The only pieceof clothing that didn’t seem to belong was a plain pair of woven sandals.

Melody pushed Drake behind her and took a few stepsforward. “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 theCity of the Golden Gates.”

Melody jerked. “I-I beg your pardon?”

“Atlantis,” Professor Lucas answered in a whisper. “We’rein Atlantis.”

Excerpt from The Last Timekeepersand the Dark Secret:

“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.”

Excerpt from The Last Timekeepersand the Noble Slave:

Drake glanced at Elvisstanding by the back of the wagon, and their eyes locked. He didn’t appear tobe dressed like the slaves Drake remembered in movies or had seen in textbooks.Wearing a dark frock coat over a white linen shirt, and a pair of tan trousers,Elvis seemed dressed more for city living instead of country life. He smiled atDrake and tipped his charcoal derby at him again. “Is…is Elvis your slave?” Drakeasked.

“He’ll be free once Ipass on.” The sides of Dixie’s hazel eyes crinkled. “But Elvis sometimes thinkshe’s the one who wears the pants on account he takes care of me. Taught him howto read and write as best I could, but as you see, people don’t know what tomake of him. His skin’s lighter than some white folks I know.”

“So Elvis is an albino.”Drake rubbed his chin. “I thought so. His skin would be the same color as mineif it wasn’t for the lack of a particular enzyme in his body.”

“Not sure what the devilyou said, but sounds like you’re one smart boy. If I was you, I wouldn’t showoff your schooling to the people ’round here. Folks don’t take too kindly toeducated blacks, free or not.” 

“Don’t worry, Dixie,he’ll keep his mouth shut.” Jordan nudged Drake. “Right?”

“When hell freezesover,” Drake whispered to Jordan. He looked up at Dixie and grinned. “Right.”

“Let’s go, children,into the wagon.” Melody gave them the come along sign. “We don’t want to takeup any more of Dixie’s valuable time.”

Dixie guffawed. “Pay nomind to the time, Melody. My pappy taught me that you get what you need inlife, and I got plenty of time to help others get to where they need to be.”

The sound of Treenagrunting into the back of the wagon made Amanda giggle. Drake caught Treenascowling at Amanda while Jordan helped her in. Ravi followed Jordan, carefulnot to brush his sherwani against the rough wooden sides. The wagon creakedagainst the added weight, but it seemed sturdy enough to transport them on therugged dirt road. The Prof assisted Melody into the wagon, and she found aplace next to Treena near the front. Jordan and Amanda sat next to each othernear the back gate, while Ravi brushed away the dust from one of the sacks ofgrain before he planted his butt on it. Drake had never known Ravi to be thisanal about anything, especially clothes.

“Come on, Drake,” TheProf held out his hand, “last but not least.”

Drake started toward thewagon and stopped, feeling a twinge in his bladder. Looking both ways, he spieda copse of tall shrubs leafy enough to allow him some privacy. “Um, give me asec, Prof. Nature calls.”

“Hold on, I’ll come withyou.”

“No thanks. I think Ican handle this task.” 

Drake darted toward theshrubs before Professor Lucas or Melody could protest. Finding the mostappropriate spot, he unzipped his pants and proceeded with his business. Assoon as he was done, he zipped up his pants the same time a calloused handroughly covered his mouth. Drake’s neck muscles corded while he was draggeddeeper into the forest with what felt like a gun shoved between his shoulderblades.

UNIVERSAL BOOK LINK:  https://books2read.com/u/b5ExvR

Author in the Kitchen: Healthy Homemade Mayonnaise and a Time Travel Romance Read Served Up by Stella 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.

Guest Post: Breaking Rules Can Be Deadly by Author Anne Montgomery...

In a moment, the magnificent Sonoran Desert can become merciless, even deadly. I will never venture there again without following the rules.
In my YA novel The Scent of Rain, as in all my books, the beautiful but sometimes treacherous southwestern desert plays a part. I’ve lived in Phoenix, Arizona for over 25 years and I’d always believed that, in the event of a Zombie Apocalypse, I could manage to stay alive in the wilderness that butts up against our urban landscape. Years of Girl Scout camp, rock collecting in remote abandoned mines, and scuba diving in wild locales made me confident I could outwit the elements, if I found myself stuck in the middle of nowhere.
The key to survival is planning. Make rules and stick to them. As a sports official for over thirty-five years, I tend to be quite dedicated to rules. Still, one awful day, I committed the worst mistake imaginable. I broke my own rules: a decision that could have been fatal.
I was headed for a day of rock collecting in the Superstition Mountains. As always, I’d left a detailed map of where I planned to be and when to expect me home. Since finding a person in hundreds of square miles of mountainous wilderness is always a daunting task – especially when cellphone access is rarely available – the rule was that I would stay with the vehicle, which would be much easier to spot than a lone individual. My old Ford pickup was stocked with water and food, a sleeping bag, books to read, a tent, a bottle of tequila – to disinfect wounds, of course – and dog food. I traveled that day with Georgie, my aging sheltie collie, and a young spotted cattle-dog mix named Sadie.
Once off the two-lane road, I drove about a mile on a well-maintained dirt trail. But quickly, the ground became rocky and steep. A few twists and turns later, I stopped. The track was too rough. Unfortunately, I was between a rock wall and a small ledge leading into a sandy wash, so I couldn’t turn the truck around. I draped my arm over the passenger seat and started backing down the trail. Almost immediately, my rear tire slipped over the ledge, and the pickup slid into the wash. When I gunned the engine, the back tires sunk into the sand.
I swore loudly and jumped out, landing in a jumble of sharp rocks. My leg slipped into a crevice, and I fell, slicing my arm on a jagged boulder. Blood ran down to my elbow in bright red streaks. I swore some more.
I stared back in the direction of the road. I was only about a mile-and-a-half in. It would be a short hike on a cool, cloudy day. I could flag someone down and call home. I strapped two water bottles around my waist, grabbed some energy bars, reapplied my sunscreen, and squashed on my Aussie hat. I put the dogs’ leashes in my pack.
I walked on the sandy wash for a short time, admiring the rocky desert beauty: spindly ocotillos, majestic saguaros, and twisted mesquite trees dotted the landscape. The dogs bounded around me. Then I stopped. Two trails, right next to one another, led away from the wash. I thought for a moment. Which one had brought me here? I took the fork to the left. I can’t remember why.
Later that morning, I stood near the top of a small mountain. The dark, open face of an abandoned mine yawned at me. I’d taken the wrong trail. I turned and gazed out at the valley. With the exception of the massive Ray Copper Mine edging the horizon, I saw only wilderness. Where was the road?
Then, the sun came out, strong and hot. I squinted and saw what looked like a white roof way off to my left. We started down the trail, which forked again. This was a mining road, composed of jagged rocks. After about 30 minutes, Georgie stopped. My collie had cut her paws on the rough trail and sat down, refusing to budge. Both animals stared at me, tongues lolling out of their mouths. I reached again for the water bottles and was stunned that only about an inch of precious fluid remained.
The heat became stifling. I tried carrying Georgie, but she was too heavy. I looked for shade, knowing that we should wait out the heat and hike at night. But could we all survive on the little bit of water that remained? Death can come quickly in the desert.
Feeling sick to my stomach, I walked away from my girls. I’d leashed them to the meager shade of a scraggly bush, hoping to find help before dark. The coyotes would be out by then. Two tied dogs would have no chance against them.I wiped tears from my face as I built cairns: trail markers that could lead me back. I’d had heat sickness before and recognized that I was beginning to succumb again to the light-headedness that precedes passing out. I finished the water.
Later, when I put my foot on a flat piece of pavement, I was stunned. The road simply appeared with no warning. Then, out of nowhere on that lonely stretch, a single car pulled up and stopped next to me. A young man, incongruously wearing a white button-down and tie, leaned out the window and asked if I needed help.
“You’re hurt,” he said looking at the dried blood on my arm.”
I cried.
The kind young man dropped me off at the Kearny sheriff’s office, where Mayberry-esq matrons in floral-print blouses fussed over me. “No, I don’t want a paramedic,” I assured them, red-faced, crying. “I want my dogs!”
Several hours later, Sheriff Joe Martinez drove his cruiser into the desert with me on the seat beside him. We followed the trail of stone markers. I worried about my girls and was afraid to look when he said, “There they are!”
To my relief, we were greeted with wagging tails. Later, Sheriff Martinez, in true western hero fashion, pulled my truck from the sand and waved me off.
Prior to my brush with disaster, I could sometimes be heard mocking ill-prepared visitors who would end up lost in the desert without food, water, sunscreen, or proper clothing: hikers who approached the desert environment like a walk in a pastoral garden.
I don’t do that anymore.
And I never, ever, break the rules.
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 KoboAnne 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 .

Author in the Kitchen: The Perfect Peach Crumble for a Hot Summer's Eve by Cookbook Author Sloane Taylor...

Asizzling summer deserves a cool dessert. This tasty treat is one my familyloves and because it’s so easy to make we have it often.

PeachCrumble
1– 15.25 oz. can peach chunks in heavy sauce½tsp. cinnamon1½tbsp. cornstarch¼cup apple juice

Pourpeaches 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.

Scooppeach mixture into an ungreased 1 quart, or slightly smaller, ovenproofcasserole. Individual ramekins work well, too.

Topping½cup flour½cup sugar2tbsp. butter or margarine, cut into bits

Preheatoven to 375° F.

Combineflour and sugar in a small bowl. Add butter bits then use your fingertips toblend the mixture into coarse crumbs. Sprinkle over peaches.

Bake20 – 25 minutes or until topping is a lightly golden.

Servesmothered 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.

This Summer, Welcome to Atlantis. We've Been Expecting You...

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:

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Legend of the Timekeepers, Prequel Buy Links:

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Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls Teen Psychic Mystery Series:

Lost & Found, Book One Buy Links:

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Blackflies & Blueberries, Book Two Buy Links:

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