Shehanne Moore's Blog, page 13
November 14, 2017
The Tale of a Minger.
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In Search of a Beginning ….. By RBN Bookmark
Shit St. Doesn`t have a postcode.
The Dead Loss Triangle
Bookmarked
Nobbled at the knees
The list of would be titles I found myself wrestling with seemed endless.
Yet time and again that nagging voice in my head would say, “No, not that one”. Urging me to try again and come up with something my subconscious and I could agree on.
The book was almost two years in the writing, the countless rounds of edits and rewrites adding still another six months until the finished article was finally ready for publishing.
They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, nor I would like to add, should one judge a book it by its title……well maybe not always.
I was stumped for a title; this was my first book and could well be my last so I wanted something special, and yet very working class.
It was midnight, everybody had gone to bed and I had decided to stay up awhile longer. Gazing at the blank TV screen and sipping from a glass of red wine, my thoughts ran amok.
All sorts of things were going through my head and none of them made any sense. I recalled accidentally throwing my brother through my parent’s front room window when we were small. He only wanted me to give him a leg up so he could sit on the window ledge, but I guess I must have eaten my porridge that morning. He of course was completely unscathed, his trip through the windowpane hadn’t even disturbed his NHS spectacles which were still their usual lob sided self.
It was so quiet that night. For once my neighbour’s new-born baby had ceased crying and it had fallen silent on the other side of the Wailing Wall that separates us.
I filled out another glass of Beaujolais and roamed wherever my wandering thoughts took me.
My wedding photo from 25 years ago, staring back at me like a stranger in time from across the walI. While all this excavating the past was giving my brain a neurological hernia, I seemed to be getting no closer to finding a title for my book until I, by chance, recalled an incident that happened in Guernsey some years earlier.
After an enjoyable week’s holiday on nearby Herme Island, my wife and I had a few hours to kill before our flight home took off from Guernsey Airport. So we wandered aimlessly along the waterfront of St Peter Port, Guernsey carrying our luggage in tow. Oh how I hate waiting for flights…don`t you?
We encountered two well-nourished local teenagers, intent on a spot fun of tourist baiting.
Our misfortune was that we`d be the warm up act for the rest of their mischievous day.
The mark was overstepped when they attempted to make a beeline for my wife, and with that war was declared. In the end it was a bloodless battle, my teenage opponents felt more at home trading insults from a safe distance than engaging in the gentlemanly art of having ones block knocked off.
I remember the only act of violence being when I knocked one of the fat duo`s ice cream out of his hand. Like his bravado, it disintegrated on impact that warm summer’s day in July.
I knew I´d rattled their cages
and so I walked away and left the fat duo to moan the demise of an ice-cream and lesson too; Never judge a book by its cover!
Insults about my red hair whizzed past me like arrows, but my actions had blunted their arrowheads. As the insults flew thick and fast, I chuckled to myself while puzzled bystanders attempted to make sense of what had happened.
As I neared the end of the Ice-cream Road battleground, the final insult landed short, yet audibly behind me.
“You ginger bastard, you fucking ginger minger!!”
I at once snapped out of the past, for this was my eureka moment……..this was the title I’d been searching for.
A Minger`s Tale – Beginnings was born!
R.B.N.Bookmark
# the word minger is a derogatory term, for a person or thing that is as unattractive and unpleasant. I explain its meaning in my book as; One who has fallen from the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down.
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If only he knew where God lived, he would urinate in his letterbox! Growing up is a difficult time in the life of Ribban Bookmark, this book traces his journey down a Minger Highway, signposted with humour and littered with roadkill oneliners.
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R.B.N. Bookmark turned to writing in 2014, in the end, it took a family tragedy …life is strange.
Born and raised in the northern city of Manchester, England, his background is working class and he tends to find humour in hardship and the way folk overcome the obstacles that life has thrown at them.
Upon leaving school at 16 he entered into a society rocked by poverty, unemployment, rising crime, and riots. Much of his inspiration when writing is drawn from his own experiences during this period.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Minger%60s-Tale-Beginnings-R-B-N-Bookmark-ebook/dp/B01DJAXURM
Facebook https://www.facebook.com/RBN-Bookmark
WordPress www.rbnbookmark.wordpress.com
Website www.rbnbookmark.com
Twitter @rbnbookmark
Or find him on Instagram
Filed under: blogging, book tour, Guest bloggers, writing Tagged: A Minger's Tale, Book Titles, Importance of book titles, Manchester, R.B.N Bookmark
November 6, 2017
Interview with Kate Furnivall and some dudes
‘Hi there, Dudes, I am honoured and excited to be here.’
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[image error]Kate. Well, BB, you know I go weak at the knees at the sight of that handsome phizog of yours.
and the infamous green hat. I used to hate green, my least favourite colour, it reminded me of school cabbage. But now it reminds me of your dashing self and I insist on wearing nothing but green these days. You are of course my fave dude but don’t tell Silv, will you? She’s a touchy little madam.
Kate. Elope? What happened to the big fancy wedding you promised to that Russian wench? Olga or Polga or Smolga or some such. And the gingerbread house? I must have a beautiful gingerbread house, you know. A fancy one. No skinflint stuff, my Bobbikins.
Kate. You are as sharp as a tack, BB. You got it in one! I just love that enchanting city. If it’s Paris you are planning on eloping to, then that’s a whole different ballgame. I am packing my bag as we speak. It’s true I have a huge fondness for Italy – and for Italian signori – and have set two of my books there, but Paris is the place I would choose for romance every time. It is the beautiful City of Love. La Ville de l’Amour.
Kate. Well now, that depends on how much time we have, mon ami,
but here are some must-sees. First, Montmartre. It’s my fave place in all Paris, the old artists’ arrondissement. With narrow cobbled streets climbing up to the breathtaking icing-sugar (frosting) white Basilica of Sacré Coeur,
which always puts me in mind of the Taj Mahal. And not far down the hill lies the ooh-là-là notoriously naughty Moulin Rouge cabaret on Boulevard de Clichy.
The dancing galz and their feathers are going to knock your little green socks off, BB.
Then we’ll head south to the stunning rose windows of Notre Dame Cathedral and the Impressionist Musée D’Orsay. And after an amble along the romantic quais, we can take a trip by moonlight on the Bateau Mouche on the Seine or head over for French 75 cocktails à deux at Le Fouquet’s on the Champs Elysées. I tell you, Bobby Bub, this is the start of a beautiful friendship.
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Kate. My new book is called The Betrayal and it does what it says on the tin. Two sisters. Conspirators. Murderers. Betrayers.
But … are they? There are so many twists and turns, and nothing is what it seems. The action takes place against the gorgeous backdrop of Paris 1938 with the nightclubs playing crazy jazz and the drums of war sounding in the distance.
Even the real-life shocking danceuse, Josephine Baker, puts in an appearance.
The city is on edge, a wildness is in the air. My story is of twin sisters, Romy and Florence, who are hiding a terrible secret that tears them apart. My desire to write about this subject came from the fact that I am a twin myself and wanted to explore how that incredibly intense relationship can draw two people together against their will, bound by blood, even when they are driven apart by violent events.
Being a twin is strange. It creates a bubble around the two of you and isolates you from the rest of the world. Yet I know from my own experience of being a twin how different your ideas and ambitions can be despite the closeness. Romaine and Florence come at the world from opposing viewpoints, just as my sister and I did. At times this creates distance between them. But always the bond holds firm and the love – that is as much a part of them as the colour of their eyes – never falters. But the terrible secret about their father’s murder stretches their loyalty to breaking point.
I have to say here and now that it was seeing all the shenanigans that go on around your gingerbread house week after week that inspired me for much of the mayhem that takes place in The Betrayal.
Broken limbs, a fire, damaged documents and even an attempt at world domination. Exactly like Dudeland. Okay, no moss monster but there’s a really nasty character who comes close. Tragically, no hamsters. They’d soon be gobbled up by the rats that creep up from the Paris sewers at night.
Kate. Romy and Florence are very different. Romy is a daredevil, a reckless pilot who flies aircraft to the left-wing Republicans in the Spanish civil war. She fights against Fascism, but she leads a dissolute life, using drink, gambling and men to help her forget the day that she woke up in her father’s study with him dead at her feet and his blood on her hands.
She has no memory of what happened that day. In contrast, her twin sister Florence is an elegant socialite in a position of power and privilege. She is married to a diplomat who works with the Germans to destroy the very people whom Romy is fighting to help. To save Romy’s slender neck from the guillotine, the sisters put the blame for their father’s murder on an innocent gardener, but their lies come back to haunt them.
Kate. My nice French recipe is to get you in the mood. It’s for a Soixante Quinze! A French 75! This lemon-hued cocktail is insanely good and was very fashionable in the 1920s. So grab your shaker. It is named ‘French 75’ because taking a sip of it feels like getting shelled by a French 75mm field gun. Aah, la vie est belle!
Ingredients
2oz champagne
½ oz lemon juice
1oz gin
2 dashes simple syrup
Lemon twist
Method
Add gin, champagne and syrup to a cocktail shaker filled with ice, shaking as hot-hot-hot as Tom Cruise to combine. Strain into an iced champagne glass. Top with more chilled champagne and a twist of lemon. Voilà!
Kate. My next book is The Truth. It is about lies. The lies people tell and the truth that is hidden in the dark places behind them. I am very excited about this one. This time I’m in Germany 1945. What a terrible chaotic period that was. The war was over and the Allies were trying to put the country back together again. A time of desperation but also of huge hope for the future. My character Klara is trapped with her young daughter in one of the Displaced Persons camps. Needless to say, danger stalks the camp and …. My lips are sealed!
Thank you for having me, Bobby Bub. It’s been a blast. I’ve got our Eurostar tickets to Paris in my hot little hand …..
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Kate Furnivall had the shock proof of her life when she learned just over a decade ago that she was part Russian. Not a demure all-English rose after all then. It changed her life. Triggered those Russian genes into action. Inspired by her grandmother’s dramatic St Petersburg life-story at the time of the Soviet Revolution, Kate wrote her first historical novel, The Russian Concubine, which hit the New York Times Bestseller list and was sold in 25 countries.It hooked Kate into the thrill of setting powerful emotional stories in dramatic far-off locations. She took to travelling with a vengeance – Russia, China, Malaya, Egypt, Bahamas, Italy, France. All became backdrops for her sweeping tales set in the first half of the 20th century when the world was in turmoil.
Research trips were riddled with wonderful adventures and weird discoveries that enrich her books. She delves into dark themes as well as intense love stories, and strips her characters to the bare bones in times of crisis to see what they are made of. Her books are full of tension, twists and thrills, atmosphere and romance.
Kate was raised in Wales, went to London Uni and worked in advertising in London. She now lives in blissful Devon with her husband, snuggled up close to Agatha Christie’s house for inspiration. She has two sons and a manky cat.
Kate has written ten historical novels, two of which have been shortlisted for the RNA Historical Novel of the Year Award.
http://www.facebook.com/KateFurnivallAuthor
Could you kill someone? Someone you love?
Paris, 1938. Twin sisters are divided by fierce loyalties and by a terrible secret. The drums of war are beating and France is poised, ready to fall. One sister is an aviatrix, the other is a socialite and they both have something to prove and something to hide.
The Betrayal is an unforgettably powerful, epic story of love, loss and the long shadow of war.
Filed under: Author Interviews, blogging, book tour, writing Tagged: Josephine Baker, Kate Furnivall, New book, Paris, The Betrayal
October 30, 2017
Vienna’s Street of blood and some dudes.
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Blutgasse, Vienna’s Street of Blood by Catherine Cavendish.
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My latest novel – Wrath of the Ancients – is mainly set in the endlessly fascinating city of Vienna, Austria’s imperial capital and one of the most architecturally beautiful cities in the world. This is largely due to the efforts of one of its most famous Emperors – Franz Josef – who reigned from the turbulent revolutionary year of 1848 until his death in 1916.
It was Franz Josef who ripped up the cramped, unhealthy and unsanitary heart of the walled city and replaced it with the famous Ringstrasse, encircling inner Vienna and flanked by magnificent neo-classical Greek edifices housing the parliament, opera house, post office and much more besides.
Yet some of the narrow, winding cobbled streets remain. No longer unsanitary, these provide a romantic evening stroll and a peaceful daytime wander, away from the hustle and bustle of the main tourist areas.[image error]
One of the oldest of these streets is Blutgasse – Blood Street – which lies in the heart of the city, near to St Stefan’s Cathedral.
The street is home to a number of picturesque courtyards – most of which are open to the public to wander around. At night, with few people around, the silence can be quite uncanny. The tall buildings effectively soundproof the street and, with no traffic allowed, the sound of your footsteps can be the only noise to puncture the quiet. It becomes quite easy to believe some of the many legends surrounding this unique place.[image error]
It is said that, in 1312, the Knights Templar were brutally slain in this street. So many were killed that its cobblestones ran with blood, giving it the name it has been known by ever since.
The men had tried to hide, but in vain. It is said that they did manage to conceal their treasure there which, to this day, has never been found. Maybe this is why they return, still searching for that which was theirs.
Their headquarters can still be seen at Blutgasse 9. This leads to a courtyard called Fähnrichshof (Ensigns’ Court) Here stands an ancient plane tree, said to house the remains of a Knights Templar’s sword, embedded deep within it.
For many years, those who were condemned to death had to walk along this street to their place of execution.
No wonder their cries echo as whispers to this day and take people by surprise. The ghosts don’t wait for nightfall. Many of them can be heard and even glimpsed in broad daylight.
[image error]Another legend which refuses to go away is that of a fearsome basilisk, which lived in a deep well along the street.
Such creatures were greatly to be feared as they could kill with one glance and their venom was so powerful, it left a deathly trail in its wake. Whenever anything went seriously wrong, you could be sure the basilisk was at the heart of it.
For one small street, Blutgasse packs a mighty punch. Stroll along it, stop, listen. Is that the sound of swords clashing? Or the hiss of the mighty basilisk, arising from its slumber?
Destiny In Death
Egypt, 1908
Eminent archaeologist Dr. Emeryk Quintillus has unearthed the burial chamber of Cleopatra. But this tomb raider’s obsession with the Queen of the Nile has nothing to do with preserving history. Stealing sacred and priceless relics, he murders his expedition crew, and flees—escaping the quake that swallows the site beneath the desert sands . . .
Vienna, 1913
Young widow Adeline Ogilvy has accepted employment at the mansion of Dr. Quintillus, transcribing the late professor’s memoirs. Within the pages of his journals, she discovers the ravings of a madman convinced he possessed the ability to reincarnate Cleopatra. Within the walls of his home, she is assailed by unexplained phenomena: strange sounds, shadowy figures, and apparitions of hieroglyphics.
Something pursued Dr. Quintillus from Egypt. Something dark, something hungry. Something tied to the fate and future of Adeline Ogilvy . . .
Wrath Of The Ancients
Available from:
About the Author:
Following a varied career in sales, advertising and career guidance, Catherine Cavendish is now the full-time author of a number of paranormal, ghostly and Gothic horror novels, novellas and short stories. She was the joint winner of the Samhain Gothic Horror Anthology Competition, with Linden Manor. Cat’s novels include the Nemesis of the Gods trilogy – Wrath of the Ancients, Waking the Ancients and Damned by the Ancients, plus The Devil’s Serenade, The Pendle Curse, Saving Grace Devine and many more. She lives with her long-suffering husband, and a black cat who has never forgotten that her species used to be worshiped in ancient Egypt. She sees no reason why that practice should not continue. Cat and her family divide their time between Liverpool and a 260-year-old haunted apartment in North Wales.
You can connect with Cat here:
Filed under: blogging, book tour, Guest bloggers, Halloween, Halloween Tagged: Basilicks, Blood Streeet Vienna, Catherine Cavendish, fiction, Horror, Kensington Lyrical Press, New book, The Knights Templar, The wrath of the ancients, Vienna
October 27, 2017
Mitchell is a hard sell. Fiona Chapman is an angel
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Book Review: The Writer and The Rake, by Shehanne Moore https://fiona-chapman.com/2017/10/24/book-review-the-writer-and-the-rake-by-shehanne-moore/
Book Review: The Writer and The Rake, by Shehanne Moore
October 24, 2017 | fionachapman
The Writer and the Rake by Shehanne Moore
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I love a bit of time travel romance, so I was looking forward to falling into this story and discovering how the two main characters would stumble across each other – or, in the heroine’s case, appear in the 18th century in the blink of an eye.
Brittany is your classic heroine; she portrays a strong, don’t-mess-with-me, nothing-can-hurt-me-exterior, but as the story moves on you begin to notice cracks in her resolve.
It took me a while to warm to Mitchell, however, as he came across as conceited and totally void of emotion and empathy. Except this is where Ms Moore has written her colourful, full-bodied characters so well. They are perfectly flawed, because no-one is ever as they seem on the surface.
The overall story arc is beautifully chaotic, comical and a touching read. It left me with that wistful sigh of the happy-ever-after, and tailed-off thoughts of… what happens next?
I’ve not read The Viking and the Courtesan, but it’s definitely being added to my TBR pile.
[image error] Mother, freelance writer and social media marketer, passionate about life, love and wellbeing.
Writer of inspirational articles, from the best moments and discoveries in life, to finding your level of happy. Creator of real-life, sassy heroines and their journey in finding out who they are.
Social media marketer, cultivating and nourishing meaningful relationships through networking. Sowing and growing excitement for brands across social media with boundless energy and enthusiasm (also keen gardener and wordsmith). Inspiring others to seize the day and embrace life with added sparkle.
After all, we’re just winging our way through life, and we only get one chance at it.
Dare to dream… Then live it
7 Simple Ways to Survive on a Budget[image error]
In 2012, I left full-time employment to concentrate on my family and a writing career, in favour of a better work/life balance. This book was inspired by my decision and looks at simple ways to save money in the current economic climate, filled with hints and tips I apply on a regular basis.
Let’s get social!
Facebook facebool.com/fionachapmanwriter
Twitter twitter.com/fionachapman1
Pinterest pinterest.com/fionachapman1
Instagram instagram.com/fionachapman1
Google google.com+/fionachapman1
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Filed under: Book review, book tour, Reviews, Romance, time travel Tagged: Book review, Fiona Chapman, non fiction, Playlist for the Writer and The Rake, Surviving on a budget
October 23, 2017
Interview With the Earl. Take 2.
https://thecontentedcrafter.com/
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Stillmore. If they cheat I will.
Stillmore. Sorry. I do not know if I was listening there. Didn’t you mean the winner?
Stillmore. Oh, what is wrong with you dudes and this unbearable whining? You must know how it does my head in. Obviously cheating is the only way to beat me. And if you do that you deserve to be shot. Now then, let’s open shall we?
Stillmore… Hang it all where has that piece gone?
Stillmore. Oh stop sounding like Splendor. The one that was there a moment ago. I know I am not mistaken about this. any more than I am mistaken about anything. Ever.
Stillmore- Or should I say two pieces? Well, it matters not. Certainly I am not about to be beaten by a hamsterous bunch of cretins.
Stillmore- Obviously Shey wanted me to look my best so she used several of the most famous chess games in history as the basis for these bits of the book. For example the Splendor /Baxby final, where she offers her queen early, was based on a famous Russian game and worked like this…. Excuse me, where’s that piece gone?
Stillmore- If YOU are meaning THE first one where Splendor cheated–
Stillmore. Where’s that piece gone?
Stillmore–Let me say to you what I said to her…’You never let me finish.’ [image error]
Stillmore — Right. Where’s my king?
Stillmore–Believe me… the waste of a bullet that would be. Now, if you don’t mind I have far better things to do with my time than sit here listening to this cretinous chatter.
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[image error] [image error] [image error]Extract.
Drawing his collar up as protection against the chill night air, Stillmore strode to the edge of the curb. “Hang it, Chasens, my cane. And find the woman a carriage. She looks like she needs a ride home.” Well, wasn’t this a dilemma. How the bloody blazes could she have lost and that check still be in his pocket?
“Thank you, but I shall walk,” Splendor said, her chin held high and her face whiter than if she’d seen a ghost.
“Suit yourself.”
She must want to spend the night with him. How else could he explain her sitting there like a moonstruck mouse messing up every single move she made? How was he meant to reward such imbecility? By making himself look stupid? He’d tried. He’d let her have his rook, his bishop, his knight, and half his pawns. But his queen? No. There were things he drew the line at. God knew he had tried every trick he knew to throw the game in her favor without making it glaringly obvious, and she had still lost. She was a damnable woman. Not at all his type. Too tall. Too argumentative. Too vexing. Too much trouble.
He withdrew his watch from his pocket and snapped it open. “Although you must know you are being perfectly ridiculous insisting upon walking at this hour. It’s late. It’s been a long day. And you don’t exactly live close at hand.”
“And that is somehow your concern?”
“Well, no, now you come to mention it.” Having admired the watch’s pale face glinting in the moonlight for several seconds, he flicked it shut. “I was merely trying to be helpful.”
Her widened eyes left him in very little doubt that she didn’t just believe the concept of him being helpful was as far as the stars beyond him, she believed it was going to stay at that distance for some considerable time. Probably forever.
He was just going to have to keep the ten thousand pounds. Anything else would make him look a fool. His gaze flitted over the oval of her face, shadowed by the street lamps. They’d had a wager, hadn’t they? He might as well get his wager’s worth.
“But I shall pick you up tomorrow evening at seven. Be ready.”
‘Lady’ Splendor better not think of bolting either.
Filed under: book tour, heroes, heroines, Romance Tagged: Chess, Etopia Press, London Jewel thieves, Regency, Shehanne Moore, Splendor, Starkadder Sisterhood
October 16, 2017
Interview with the Earl. Take 1.
THE RULES
Place the award logo or image within your blog post. Thank the person who nominated you and link their blog in your post.
https://aquileana.wordpress.com/
Tell your readers 3 things about yourself.
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Nominate 10-20 people.
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Ask your nominees 5 original questions of your choice.
Share 5 links to your best blog posts.
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Extract.
He tightened his finger on the trigger and focused his gaze on the exact spot he was going to hit, the spot he had the right to hit. Damn it all to hell. Never mind facing a murder charge for a boot-wrecking nincompoop, what if this wasn’t a boy?
He tilted his chin. A woman at a man’s chess tournament though? She’d be arrested for fraud.
No.
He cocked his eyebrow. He had a clear shot, and he must take it. Now.
This damned jackanapes had made him look a complete fool, and not content with that, had proceeded to almost shoot off his toe. Indeed, the shot could have taken off anything.
A woman might very well fire off a shot like that, though. A complete bamboozler that might take a better shot down by chance. Yesterday’s visitor and this cousin had the same hair coloring, the same disconcerting habit of talking as if he was an idiot. They required patience to deal with too. Then there was the matter of the scent.
One more sadness at the bottom of a glass.
He had never shot a woman. What kind of man would?
Oh, for God’s sake, if the shirt outlined soft, swelling breasts, he’d stop, stop right now, stride from this field, and let this go.
It didn’t. What other choice did he have?
He narrowed his gaze, fully cocked the pistol, and taking a deep breath, squeezed the trigger.
Filed under: blogging, book tour, heroes Tagged: Etopia Press, Mystery Blogger award, Shehanne Moore, Splendor
October 8, 2017
Meet Esme, the woman who hunts recipes.
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loves to share her passion to cook, bake and experiment in the kitchen.
This is her way of relaxing after a long and hard week in the office, and if you wish to call it her ‘retail therapy’, please do .
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Esme : Thank you for the compliment, although I was not involved in the decision making of naming myself, I accept the compliment on bahalf of my belated parents. The rumor goes that it’s a name that Mom and Dad fancied and then named me as such, but later I found the following explanation for my name:-
Esmé is a French given name.
Esme may also refer to:
Esme, a town in Turkey
Esme(genus), a genus of damselfly
“Esmé”, a story by Saki
“Esme”, a song on the Joanna Newsom album Have One on Me, and its titular character
OR
Esmé or Esmée is a French given name, the past participle of French esmer “to esteem” (whence also English aim).[ Esmé came to be used in Scotland in the 16th century as the name of Esmé Stewart, 1st Duke of Lennox (1542–1583) and is now among the most popular baby names for girls in the UK.
Esme – BTW – Esmé is my call name, although I do have 3 Christian names which have no resemblance or connection to my call name, so you can see Mom and Dad loved the name Esmé so much that that’s what I go by, but for the records and family tradition I am Maria, Elizabeth, Magdalena. Should you call me Maria, I will take a second or more to respond you.
Esme : This is me:
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My about page:
https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/about-2/and Welcome page:
https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/about/as well as a link to my Who, What, Where and Why?? page: https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/08/17/who-what-where-and-why/
Link to my blog The Recipe Hunter (Cook and Enjoy): https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/
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Esme. Yep. I love to cook, experiment and share recipes and thus also need to “hunt” to find new recipes from other cultures and areas around the world to add to my collection and test whenever possible.
Esme : Unfortunately I do not personally have or had hamsters (sorry about that), but I did ‘hunt’ and found the following:
http://www.easy-kids-recipes.com/hamster-food.html hopefully you can ask Shey to prepare them for you. Let me know what you think once tried and tested!
Esme : WOW, that’s a loaded question! Maybe I can answer in the reverse: I do not like spicy and strong food, although it must be favorful. I prefer to savor my food and prefer to have a good experience tasting each morsel I eat, without burning my mouth to cinders when eating. I also do not like warm tomatoes, or escargot but pretty much everything else is a go for me.
I leave you with Es’s family famous Chicken Pie recipe: The first link you will see being just a regular post of this awesome recipe (although I have to say to myself):
https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/2016/09/24/ess-family-famous-chicken-pie/
The second link featured in a magazine of a fellow Ex-South African FB group member, now residing in Texas, and Publisher of Neighbors of the Woodlands
https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/05/20/ess-family-famous-chicken-pie-2/
Esme.:
Recipes I have by the dozens, or thousands, so pleaes hop over and check out my blog: The Recipe Hunter @ https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/ I also provide you with a link on the blog, for recipes I personally tried and tested: https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/?s=es%27s&submit=Search The last one I made (would like to do more, but time is always an issue with working full time and then running my FB Group and Blog and other social media outlets) but hope you will like this one: Es’s Chicken Scones (https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/09/01/ess-chicken-scones/ )
Esme. Bobby Bub, I am not gourmet chef, I am just a plain old mother, wife and regular cook that try her best to put something yummy and nice on the plate for her family and friends. I am sure there are many many of my fellow bloggers and FB group friends that do a way better job at cooking and baking than me. [image error]
Esme.
Yes, I did ask Shey to do a Guest Post, and I am so so happy and grateful for her G…uest #20: Cooking’n books
(https://cookandenjoyrecipes.wordpress.com/2017/09/03/guest-20-cookingn-books/ ) sharing with us her Creme Bastarde recipe (another one on my 1,000 mile long list to test out.)
[image error] Esme : Whoop, whoop, yes, yes and once again yes, please share as many recipes as you like. As you know I am The Recipe “Hunter” and this will make me the Happiest “Hunter” or should I say “Huntress” in the world.
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Esme : A8 Share away ‘hamsters’, now you’re on the clock and I await each and every new recipe coming my way!!!
Social media links:
Please join our Facebook group: The Recipe Hunter
Follow me on Pinterest
Join me on Instagram You can now also follow me on Twitter: The Recipe Hunter – @TRH_Cook
I joined the ranks of StumbleUpon
I am also a Proud member of the Top 100 food Blogs
Filed under: blogging, Guest bloggers Tagged: Chicken Pie, Esme, Food blogs, Guests, recipes, The Recipe Hunter
October 1, 2017
When good feelings extend to rascals and poetry.
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I give myself very good advice … https://robbiesinspiration.wordpress.com/2017/10/01/i-give-myself-very-good-advice/
Same picture, “take one!”
Two posts, just like twins.
Do you remember one of
Shehanne Moore’s themes
is attraction to scoundrels,
who underneath their rakish,
handsome appearance is a warm heart?
While I had Shehanne’s books here
in my apartment, somehow the
incredible rascals got in
through crack under
the door. . .
I bet these baby hamsters would
melt even a Viking or a Pirate’s
cold, cutthroat heart.
I reviewed the following books
by Shehanne Moore:
~ “The Viking and the Courtesan”
~ “The Unraveling of Lady Fury”
Should Shehanne be responsible
for progeny who developed
without her knowledge
nor her consent?
I’ve been circling back to
the summer book series,
meanwhile a new book has
been written and published by
a few of our fellow writing bloggers.
Here’s more of fascinating
Shehanne Moore’s
choices:
“Loving Lady Lazuli,”
(London Jewel Thieves, Book 1)
“Splendor,”
(London Jewel Thieves, Book 2)
“His Judas Bride”
“The Writer and the Rake”
Find Shehanne at:
https://shehannemoore.wordpress.com
So, do you know any solutions
for mhttps://witlessdatingafterfifty.wordp... Hamsters Invasion?
Same picture, “take two!” 
September 25, 2017
Interview with a ferret and a Miranda Sings award
AWARD: The Miranda Sings Award – A chance to say I Love Me! https://smorgasbordinvitation.wordpress.com/2017/09/24/award-the-miranda-sings-award-a-chance-to-say-i-love-me/
Here are the rules of the award...
Announce your win with a post, and link the blogger who nominated you.
Include the featured image on your blog post.
Nominate 10 bloggers (or as many as you can think of) and link your awardees in the post.
List 7 things you love about yourself. (This can be about your appearance, your personality, your achievements, etc.)
Rules
Don’t use negative connotation (i.e. Don’t say things like – “I’m prettier than an average person.” or “People have told me I’m smart.” You are pretty. You are smart.)
Mrs Ferret: Beggin’ your pardon your furryship creatures an’ meanin’ to give no affront. or that, but I thought it was seven things about me?
Mrs Ferret : Well, I must say, again meanin’ no disrespect, it’s not whot was agreed.
Mrs Ferret : You won’t be doin’ no Cossack dance, nor drinkin’ no vodka here. Beggin’ your pardons and meanin’ no affront or that, not unless you wants ter meet with me broom handle and be swept out into the doostbin you won’t. And you won’t be bullyin’ me like you did that artist hero of Shehanne’s whot came here and never got a word in yet. Now then . Three things about me that I like.
Well, contrary to the many words what are spoke about me
I’m secretly very soft hearted, soft-hearted as any can be whot has been left ter fend for themselves in a bitter, hard, cruel world, one step away from the workhouse at sixteen with a sister and young brothers ter support. You can ask Splendor herself about me soft heart. But I got a good nose for sniffin’ out whot people are inside. I can always recognise another servant and I will look out for them. I just won’t be taken a lone of is all. But if I see someone needin’ a helpin’ hand, well, I think I can be counted on.
2 I love that I like people, people whot are interesting. Them that might have secrets. But I aon’t no gossip. The things I could have told Stillmore about his ‘wife’ and her friend–cos, meanin’ no affront but I reads the newspapers and I knows about that Sisterhood lot. But I never. As for the goings on of him at Catterton whenever he deigned to visit …..
[image error] I was discreet. As for me figuring out they wasn’t really married, he must have thought I stitched up the back of me mob cap.
3 I know I may only be a servant but I am very good at me job, unlike some I could name whot drinks on the job, I see everything runs like clockwork whotever house I am in, Catterton,[image error]
or His Grace’s place in London. That’s because I take pride in knowing whot people want. Of course, meanin’ no affront and provided anyone would have had me. it would have been nice to have had me family roundabout me and a man to love me, but families require keepin’ and it really isn’t easy for women of my social class that way, as I found out when my husband left me.
Thank you very much for letting me come by and get a word in.
I am going to give you with the names of some bloggers. It would be more but Sallly has already bestowed the award on many whot come here and might like doing this kind of thing. Not everyone accepts awards. Though if YOU would like doing this, please do feel free. Meaning no disrespect but that you’re not here is probably on account of Shehanne not having time to look all the links up.
Catherine Cavendish http://t.co/NekQqtJiEc
Purva Narang. https://t.co/WUn4iLM0b3
Jean Lee –
Sarah Potter http://sarahpotterwrites.wordpress.com/
Annika Perry http://annikaperry.wordpress.com/
Leslie Noyez http://www.nananoyz5forme.com/
Aquileana http://aquileana.wordpress.com/
Christy Birmingham https://whenwomeninspire.com/
Extract…Mrs Ferret first raises her lovely head [image error][image error]
[image error]“This is Mrs. Ferret.”
So Splendor’s death hadn’t happened. Instead, the front door had swung open, because there weren’t any rugs on the flagstone floor to stop it. Splendor thought that was why the door didn’t just swing open, it almost removed itself from its hinges and careered across said floor. Before she was anywhere near it, which was not always the case. Penetrating cold blew out, not in. The sun hadn’t just gone behind a cloud on a nice day, Arctic winter had followed.
Ferret was an unfortunate name. The woman herself had the appearance of having dropped a guinea and found a farthing. Some people were so devoid of the desire to better themselves that they dressed in pinched black to match their expressions. Splendor’s desire was to show his majesty how unfazed she was by this rapid and unprovoked downturn in events. London and Babs Langley. She fixed a smile on her face. Her best.
“You will pardon me, Your Grace, openin’ door in advance of you ringin’.” Mrs. Ferret ignored the smile and her. “But Bates told me you was here. And had brought company. Young ladies.”
Was it a crime to be one? Splendor had never thought so before. But the look Mrs. Ferret failed to cast her said her education was sadly lacking that way.
“Yes.” Stillmore strode over the stone threshold into the pale white hall. “My wife and her friend.”
“Wife? Wife?” Mrs. Ferret’s voice rose. “Mr. Bates never said nothing about no wife.”
Stillmore stared at the ceiling. “Perhaps because he’s not married to her. Well. It happened, whether Bates said so or not. If I say she is, it should be good enough.”
Splendor swung her gaze around. “You mean, you take my getting out that cart as assent—?”
“Oh, sir, I never meant…” Mrs. Ferret interrupted. “Oh bless me no. I mean, I wouldn’t, bein’ mindful of me position here’n all, dream of offerin’ an affront. Excuse me, Your Grace.”
Mrs. Ferret touched a feeble hand to her breast, as if she wouldn’t take issue with him arriving on the doorstep with a two-headed hamster and saying he’d married it.
“Will I just show her downstairs, same as usual, Your Grace?”
“I will do that. Thank you.”
As usual? Splendor turned her gaze back, swallowed the hot tide that rose. Thank God in some ways. Remove this old bat from the equation and Catterton House might have her otherwise. From the outside it looked like a two-roomed cottage with a tower that stood like a sentinel. Inside though, it was a completely different fish. A whitewashed palace, with steps leading down to other levels that were set into the steeply dropping cliffside. It would be private here. The kind of place Topaz would be safe. The kind of place they could both hide.
Not if it was home to his women. Not when she’d thought London.
“But, of course, Your Lordship Grace.” Mrs. Ferret curtseyed so low it was a miracle she didn’t keel over on the flagstone floor. “And what about the other…lady, sir? Will she just be left sitting out there in the cart, while you…you know?”
“Yes. No. I… I mean…” Splendor burst out before she could stop herself.
“Not at all,” Stillmore said. “She will be coming in here. But would you have a problem with that, Mrs. Ferret?”
“No, Your Grace. All I were doing was asking.”
“Well, don’t.”
“Fine then I won’t. I’ll just go tell Bates to start peeling the vegetables for lunch. A light one will it be, Your Grace? Or do your guests require stuffing?”
The only thing he hates more than losing at chess is marriage…
For Splendor, former servant to the London’s premiere jewel thieves, the Starkadder Sisterhoiod, pretending to be someone else is all in a day’s work. So when she learns of a chess tournament—a men’s chess tournament—with a ten thousand pound prize, pretending to be a man is the obvious move. The money will be enough to set her fiancé up in his own business so they can finally marry, and more importantly, it’ll pay off her bills and keep her out of debtor’s prison. But she doesn’t plan on her opponent, the rakish Kendall Winterborne, Earl Stillmore, being a sore loser—and a drunken one, at that. But before she can collect her prize, she finds herself facing the most merciless man in London across a pair of dueling pistols at dawn. Chess may be Splendor’s game, but she’s never fired a pistol. And dressed as a man with ill-fitting shoes on the slippery grass and borrowed glasses that make it hard to see, she’s certain she’s finally tipped her own king.
Bitter divorcee Kendall Winterborne, Earl Stillmore, is the ton’s most ruthless heartbreaker. And he’s got three pet peeves: kitchen maids, marriage…and losing. So when he realizes the “man” opposite him has entered the chess tournament under false pretenses, he’s in the perfect position to extort the little chit. But that’s before the exasperating woman begins to slip beneath his skin, and soon all he can think about is slipping beneath her skirts. But the confounded woman is engaged to someone else, and worse—she’s nothing but a former kitchen maid, just like the one that lured his father into the marriage that ruined the family name. And his ex-wife taught him more than he cared to know about why marriage was the worst kind of checkmate of all…
Filed under: blogging, book tour, Guest bloggers, Romance Tagged: A Miranda Sings award, Etopia Press, London Jewel thieves, Regency, Sally G Cronin, Shehanne Moore, Splendor, The Starkadder Sisterhood
September 18, 2017
The Bonnie Prince, the Edinburgh literary greats and some dudes.
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Filed under: blogging, heroines, highlanders, Lists of, writing Tagged: Bonnie Prince Charlie, Bonnie Prince Charlie and the Jacobites, Charles Edward Stuart, Culloden, Edinburgh, Greyfriar's Bobby, Jacobites, Literary Edinburgh, Robert Louis Stevenson, Scotland, Sherlock Holmes, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, SIr Walter Scott, The Jacobites, The National Museum of Scotland
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