C.D. Hersh's Blog, page 94
November 5, 2019
Wednesday Special Spotlight @HL_Carpenter questions for writers.
Shines On
The question from HL Carpenter. Tomato, tomahto, what’s in a name? In the case of fruit, a name may not matter much.
In the case of authors, a name can make quite a difference. Why? According to one successful author, the difference between writing generally and writing for a living is branding.Amazon Author Page.
November 4, 2019
Tell Again Tuesday Writers and Bloggers Tips
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
The ultimate Pinterest 101 for writers and bloggers
By Lorraine Ambers
There are many ways to drive your audience to your blog and one of my favourites media sites is Pinterest. In this post we’ll be taking a look at how to set up an account, to maximize your chances of gaining new viewers, and how to set up visually enticing boards so that your followers can visually connect with your novel and get to know you a little better.
If you’re new to building your brand then I recommend reading The Importance of Building a Platform and How to Identify your Target Audience. Setting up solid foundations for your business is a vital first step, but don’t worry if you’ve jumped in feet first, sometimes simply beginning is the hardest part and I commend your enthusiasm.
Here are my four awesome tips . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
October 31, 2019
Friday Feature Christmas in the Highlands Shortbread #Recipe @AuthorMaddyHill
Guest talks about
Anthology with 2 stories: A Family For Christmas and His By Christmas
by
Madelyn Hill
In A Family For Christmas shortbread is the heroine’s favorite treat. Shortbread reminds her of happier times with her parents and special Christmas celebrations.
According to History UK, the story of shortbread begins with the medieval “biscuit bread”. Any leftover dough from bread making was dried out in a low oven until it hardened into a type of rusk: the word “biscuit” means “twice cooked”. Gradually the yeast in the bread was replaced by butter, and biscuit bread developed into shortbread.[image error]
Traditionally, shortbread was a treat reserved just for special occasions such as weddings, Christmas and New Year. In Shetland it was traditional to break a decorated shortbread cake over the head of a new bride on the threshold of her new home. The custom of eating shortbread at New Year has its origins in the ancient pagan Yule Cakes which symbolised the sun (one shape of the treat is a circle). In Scotland it is still traditionally offered to “first footers” at New Year. First Footers represents the first person who steps into your house on the New Year receives the gift of shortbread.
Scottish shortbread biscuits may in fact date back beyond the 12th century. I love the “finger” style of shortbread. But there is the traditional triangle shape which fits into a circle or those biscuits cut in a circle shape. No matter, the buttery biscuit is delicious no matter the shape. However, I feel that you must use real butter and not lard to flavor the biscuit and create the rich, crispy texture.
Read Christmas In The Highlands to see how our heroine brings people together with shortbread to create a Christmas spirit that has been missing from all of their lives.
Shortbread Recipe *
Ingredients:
3 oz (85g) icing sugar (confectioner’s sugar)
3 oz (85g) castor sugar (superfine sugar)
10 oz (280g) butter
1 lb (450g) plain flour (all purpose flour)
Directions
Set oven to 280F
Cream the butter, icing sugar and castor sugar together using a wooden spoon.
Sift the flour 2 or 3 times, then gradually mix into the creamed butter and sugar using your hands, until a firm dough is formed.
On a lightly floured surface roll or press dough until about 1/2 inch thick and use a cookie cutter to make ’rounds’ or shapes, or slice into 3″ x 1″ bars and prick the top with a fork. Depending on shapes and sizes will determine the yield of the recipe.
Bake in pre-heated 280F oven for for approx 30 to 40 mins, shortbread will be a light golden color when it’s ready.
Baking Tip: The shorter the time it takes to mix the ingredients, and the less handling is involved the better. When you minimize both of these you get shorter, crumblier and more delicately textured shortbread.
DON’T be tempted to ‘knead’ at the dough, as this will make it tough – and the finished result won’t be what you are hoping for.
*Recipe and image courtesy of Scottish At Heart BLog
BOOK BLURBS!
A FAMILY FOR CHRISTMAS
CHRISTMAS IN THE HIGHLANDS, BOOK ONE
Laird Malcolm Sutherland needs a bride. He has few requirements of his new wife; demands he should have insisted with his former betrothed—namely, honesty, loyalty, and resources.
Lady Rossalyn Gordon will do anything to be rid of her tyrant father, even if that means deceiving the man who offers her an escape. If revealed, those secrets will either bring her mercy, or thrust her back into the hands of the devil who sired her.
When Rossalyn’s bastard of a father arrives at Sutherland Keep, going back on his word and ordering her return, Malcolm must decide if he can forgive his wife enough to listen to his heart and have a family for Christmas.
HIS BY CHRISTMAS
CHRISTMAS IN THE HIGHLANDS, BOOK TWO
Fiona Sutherland longs for love with the man she has pined after since she was a lass. When he weds another she is devastated, and questions why the man she pledged her heart to has forsaken a vow made in their youth. Could loving her be so hard?
Cameron Munro adores Fiona from afar, knowing her heart has been set on another. She is everything he desires—strong, loyal, and fiery in spirit.
Determined, he pledges to prove his love to her and win Fiona’s heart by Christmas.
BIOGRAPHY
Madelyn Hill is an historical author who loves the lure of Scotland, captivating Highlanders and the strong women they love.
Many of her novels were finalist for the National Rone Award, which honors literary excellence in romance writing. Highland Honor was award of the coveted Crowned Heart by In’Dtale Magazine.
Madelyn’s first book, Wolf’s Castle has been #1 in the Historical and Scottish Romance category at Amazon.
Madelyn lives in Western New York with her husband, three children and a naughty puppy named Cannoli.
Connect with Madelyn:
October 29, 2019
Wednesday Special Spotlight Latin – the Dead Language that Speaks to Us Today @CarolABrowne
Shines On
The Latin lover Carol Browne. Err. That is lover of the Latin language.
I know I was lucky when it came to education. Not only did I live in the UK at a time before austerity when the state paid for all our equipment, I also got to attend a grammar school. That meant I studied Latin for about the first four years I was there. At the time I didn’t see the relevance; none of my contemporaries did. It was a dead language confined to history. Something for academics and librarians and archaeologists. A difficult study for an English brain not used to complicated conjunctions and declensions. The concept that nouns had to be classified into gender was bizarre. All the different word endings that had to agree with each other made my head reel. It seemed Latin was something you did to get a qualification—and I did. I achieved what in those days was called an ‘O’ Level. So, job done. Stick it on the CV with all the others.
Image by Desi Maxwell from Pixabay
It was after I left school that I learned to love Latin and appreciate its value as a linguistic tool. More than that, I understood its historical significance, how it helped to shape the modern world we have today. How many languages have Latinate words as part of their lexicon? How many countries, corporations and institutions use Latin mottos? I’m thinking of a famous one here, E Pluribus Unum (Out of many, one) which appears on the Great Seal of the United States of America.
Latin invaded Britain along with the Romans in the first century and it was clearly determined to take root as part of the language of the indigenous people because it became the language of the church for centuries. In 1066, when the Norman French invaded Britain, their Latinate tongue became the dominant language and married itself without ceremony to that spoken by the oppressed Anglo- Saxons. In this way, Latin moved up to another level and its words formed a large part of what was to become what we now know as English. People wonder why in English there are so many different words for the same thing but the richness of the language is a result of having input from so many other languages brought to Britain by a variety of invaders.
Image by Photos for You from Pixabay
So from a living language spoken by the Romans, to an elitist language used by the church and the legislature, it evolved in many ways, even giving scientific names to plants, animals, diseases and body parts! And now it is supposedly a dead language because no-one speaks it anymore except for academics and historians. And yet how can you call it dead when it is so widely used?
As a writer Latin isn’t dead to me. I can call upon my knowledge of Latin to help me work out the meaning of many words in use today. If I encounter an unfamiliar word, as long as it has had some truck with Latin during its evolution, I am likely to be able to recognise some part of it that will facilitate my understanding. Latin prefixes are extremely helpful: ex, inter, trans, sub, contra, for example. These are already pointing you in a certain direction. A submarine is obviously going to operate under the sea rather than above it! (And marine is also of Latin origin—‘mare’, sea.) Latin has also helped me translate words in other Latinate languages like Italian and Spanish, even though I’m not that acquainted with them.
Latin is timeless, as familiar in Shakespeare’s plays as in Hollywood movies. It has expanded its influence into popular culture without most people giving it a second thought—where would Hogwarts professors be without their Latin-inspired incantations? In the Marvel universe, what would Magneto be called without that ancient Roman language? (L. ‘magnes’?) All those horror films where the bad guys try to summon demons wouldn’t be half so dramatic if they didn’t use Latin to do it; likewise, exorcisms sound much more impressive in Latin. It is, I have come to realise, a rather beautiful language.
Versatile too. You can have fun with Latin. In The Handmaid’s Tale, ‘nolite te bastardes carborundorum’ (Don’t let the bastards grind you down) is grammatically incorrect Latin with some made-up words and was a joke Margaret Attwood remembered from school, but it struck a chord with her audience and people actually have it tattooed on their wrists!
Latin isn’t dead. It never really went away. Those ancient Romans gave us the gift that keeps on giving; even our planets are named after their gods and goddesses. Latin went global long before that concept even existed.
The question must be, did we absorb Latin or did Latin absorb us! Whatever the answer, Latin is here to stay.
Here is a little from my latest release for your reading pleasure. Yes, a little Latin has worked its way into this psychological thriller.
Gillian Roth finds herself in middle age, living alone, working in a dull job, with few friends and little excitement in her life. So far, so ordinary.
But Gillian has one extraordinary problem.
Her house is full of other people… people who don’t exist. Or do they?
As her surreal home life spirals out of control, Gillian determines to find out the truth and undertakes an investigation into the nature of reality itself.
Will this provide an answer to her dilemma, or will the escalating situation push her over the edge before she has worked out what is really going on?
BLURB
Thursday, 26th March, 2015.
My house is filled with people who don’t exist.
They have no substance. They are neither alive nor dead. They aren’t hosts or spirits. They aren’t in any way shape or form here, but I can see them, and now I need to make a record of how they came to be under my roof.
Why now? Why today? Because we line in strange times, and today is one of the strangest days this year; this is the day that Richard III, the last Plantagenet king of England, was interred in Leicester Cathedral, with all due ceremony, 530 years after he was slain at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485. How surreal is that? I watched the highlights on Channel 4 earlier. A couple of my house guests sat with me and together we marvelled at the event. They did Richard proud, no doubt of that.
I left them to it after a while and came up here to my bedroom to start writing a diary: this diary.
Life feels unreal today, as if time has looped back onto photo albums. The house clearly passed must itself and everything is happening now. And if I can set my thoughts down on paper, perhaps I can make sense of everything, make it all real somehow.
Where did it start, this thing that has happened to me? A couple of years ago? I can’t say when. It evolved without my conscious input. The existence of my house guests was a fact long before I began to wonder at it. I do wonder at it now and I know I must keep track of what’s happening before I lose myself in this crowd of imaginary beings.
At first there was only a few of them, and I observed their doings without much concern. I watched them snooping around the place, choosing the most comfortable chairs to sit in, leaning against the furniture, inspecting the bookcases, checking the kitchen utensils, and peering into my photo albums. The house clearly passed muster and they stayed. In time, they knew me down to the marrow. I have never known them as well as they know me. They have an air of mystery, as though they have a life outside my house they will never divulge. Even so, I felt I was safe with them and I could tell them my problems. Tell them what no-one else must ever hear. And so these shades thickened, quickened; their personalities accumulated depth and solidity, as though they were skeletons clothing themselves in flesh.
I no longer came home to a cold, empty house, but to a sanctuary where attentive friends awaited my return. I was embraced by their jovial welcome when I stepped through the door. I never knew which of them would be there, but one or two at least would always be waiting to greet me, anxious to hear about my day and make me feel wanted, and for a while I could forget the problems I have at work (even the one that bothers me the most). Since then I have felt a subtle change.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I really need this to be a faithful account of the entire situation from start to finish, so I have to try to work out how it all began, even if I’m not sure when.
If I cast my mind back, it floats like a lantern through a city cloaked in fog. I must try to isolate the shadowy figures that flit up at me out of the murk. So, let’s begin with the friend I remember first. I was cooking my evening meal. My mind wandered. I remember feeling sad. And there she stood, at my right elbow, peering into the saucepan.
“Watch you don’t burn that,” she said.
I don’t have names for my imaginary friends, just titles, so I call her Kitchen Girl. She’s dark-haired with porcelain skin, and she’s tall and voluptuous. The sort of woman I’d like to be except I’m small with red hair and a ruddy complexion, and I need chicken fillets to convince people I’m female.
I suppose Kitchen Girl is rather daunting, with those fierce blue eyes and no-nonsense approach to everything. I can stand up to her though. I use humour as my weapon of choice and she appreciates wit and banter. I’d like it if she didn’t nag so much, if I’m honest (“Use less salt… keep stirring… is that all you’re going to eat?”) but, criticism aside, I know she’ll compliment me on the finished product as it lies uneaten between us on the table. Long conversations back and forth have been played out while the meals go cold on their plates. Fried eggs congeal and go waxen. Ice cream melts into a tepid sludge. Sandwiches curl up with embarrassment to be so spurned. You know how it is when you get gossiping. Someone wants to talk to me and that’s better than food.
And sometimes, it’s curious, but it’s Kitchen Girl who cooks the food and serves it to me like a waitress. She likes to surprise me with new dishes.
I have no idea how this happens.
Nor why she never leaves the kitchen. But I wish she’d do the washing up now and then.
Amazon Buy Links e-Book – Paperback
Born in Stafford in the UK, Carol Browne was raised in Crewe, Cheshire, which she thinks of as her home town. Interested in reading and writing at an early age, Carol pursued her passions at Nottingham University and was awarded an honours degree in English Language and Literature. Now living and working in the Cambridgeshire countryside, Carol writes both fiction and non-fiction.
Stay connected with Carol on her website and blog, Facebook, and Twitter.
October 28, 2019
Tell Again Tuesday Self Publishing
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
Self-publishing success tips from Tara Ames
As an emerging indie author of contemporary military and sports romances, I have enjoyed quite a journey into the world of self-publishing. Since I published my first book The Risk Taker, book 1, Alpha Aviators series back in August 2017, I’ve published a total of five books and two novellas, with three short stories featured in two anthologies and one boxed set. During this time, two of my works received awards, and I became a USA Today Bestselling Author.
And you’re probably wondering how I did it? . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
October 24, 2019
Friday Feature Vegan Pesto Parmesan Grilled Corn @ChrisPavesic
Guest talks about
Better options than processed food
by
Chris Pavesic
Recently The New York Times article, “Why Eating Processed Foods Might Make You Fat” by Anahad O’Connor, reported on a study that compared a “typical” American diet of processed food and a natural, plant-based diet. The study determined that eating processed food causes most consumers to overindulge, gain weight, and suffer health issues. As O’Connor states: “Observational studies of thousands of people have found that eating high amounts of these [processed] foods is associated with a greater likelihood of early death from heart disease and cancer.” The study extolls the virtues of eating a natural, plant-based diet in order to achieve optimal health.
Why, then, do people “treat” themselves with processed foods like take-out pizza, potato chips, and mass-produced candy? It’s simple. Big food companies spend a lot of money finding that sweet spot that combines the perfect ratio of fat, sugar, and salt that makes processed food addictive. There’s a reason we “can’t have” just one chip. Companies have worked over decades to “tweak” their recipes to make sure we keep eating and eating until the bag is empty! And then what happens? We buy more to satiate our cravings and the companies make more money.
So why not flip this narrative? Instead of craving take-out-pizza, why not make your own healthy version? Choose what you put into your body. Why not dream about a hearty meal with Vegan Pesto Parmesan Grilled Corn? If you retrain your brain, slowly, to crave these types of food, treating yourself will feel a lot better.
Vegan Pesto Parmesan Grilled Corn
2 – 4 ears of corn on the cob
1 tbsp. salt
Cold water
Set grill on medium.
Stir salt into water in a large bowl. Pull outer husks down the ear to the base. Strip away silk from each ear of corn by hand. Fold husks back into place, and place ears in water for 10 minutes.
Remove corn from water and shake off excess. Place corn on grill, close the cover, and grill for 15 to 20 minutes, turning every 5 minutes, or until kernels are tender when pierced with a paring knife. Carefully remove husks, open, and scrap off the kernels into a bowl.
Serve vegan pesto, get the easy recipe here, and freshly grated vegan parmesan on top of kernels.
After you enjoy your meal, why not read a good book?
Amazon – Audible – Smashwords
October 22, 2019
Wednesday Special Spotlight Romantic Halloween Thriller
Shines On
The chill in the air and all things that go bump in the night that are about to happen. Time to curl up with a good romantic thriller by Tina Griffith .
On Hallow’s Eve, as the veil between the two worlds was thinning, the face of the full moon was lit up like a Christmas tree. The dead would soon come alive, the alive would dress up as the dead, and witchcraft had a way of piggybacking off other spells. This was the ideal night to be a witch, for the effectiveness of all incantations, divinations, and other avenues of magic, was perfect.
Jayla is a clever witch, who had been cursed in her teens by her friend, Ophelia. Since then, she has had to retrieve dark souls from shrewd men in order to survive. While she has taken hundreds of souls in her lifetime, this story is about her trying to take the one which belongs to Roger Casem – the man she accidentally fell in love with.
Could she kill him, as she had done with the others? If she wanted to continue living, she must. But today, when his eyes skimmed her body with unbelievable passion, she began to recognize her own needs. As she blushed and turned her face away from him, Jayla did the only thing she could.
AMAZON
Tina Griffith, who also wrote twenty-seven children’s books as Tina Ruiz, was born in Germany, but her family moved to Canada when she was in grammar school.
After her husband of 25 years passed away, she wrote romance novels to keep the love inside her heart. Tina now has eleven romance novels on Amazon, and while all of them have undertones of a love story, they are different genres; murder, mystery, whimsical, witches, ghosts, suspense, adventure, and her sister’s scary biography.
Tina has worked in television and radio as well as being a professional clown at the Children’s Hospital. She lives in Calgary with her second husband who encourages her to write her passion be it high-quality children’s books or intriguing romance.
Stay connected with Tina (Griffith) Ruiz on her Facebook group Tina Speaks Out.
October 21, 2019
Tell Again Tuesday Support Your Protagonist
A blog series where we shamelessly share posts from others that we have enjoyed.
How to Write Compelling Secondary Characters
By Lorraine Ambers
This week I’ve received a comment about secondary characters, and more specifically, how many characters should support your protagonist? In truth, every story is individual; Game of Thrones notoriously has a large cast of characters, whilst The Martian focuses solely on the plight of the protagonist for the best part of the story.
Therefore the plot holds the key to such questions, a better question to consider would be; how can I create context for the MC struggles? What internal or external circumstances, characters or environment will best serve and/or antagonise my protagonist? How can you help develop your protagonists story arc?
Secondary characters can . . .
For the rest of the blog go to:
October 17, 2019
Friday Feature Confusion of Who’s Who
Guest talks about
Identity confusion
by
Suzanne G. Rogers
Back in the era of black and white television, The Patty Duke Show reigned supreme. The premise revolved around a rambunctious American girl (Patty Lane) and her identical, sophisticated Scottish cousin (Cathy Lane), who comes to live with her extended American family. Although the two girls resemble one another, they are polar opposites in terms of their tastes and personalities, thus leading to conflict.
Perhaps my memories of The Patty Duke Show might have had a little to do with fashioning the premise for my Victorian novel, Rake & Romance. Inspiration comes from unlikely sources sometimes!
The cousins in Rake & Romance may resemble one another outwardly, but they could not be more different. Black hearted Lord Gryphon is ungentlemanly in every respect whereas his cousin, Cody Gryphon, is everything worthy in a fellow–and a hero.
Like the first novel in the Beaucroft Girls series, a ruse is involved. Sweet and lovely Juliet isn’t quite as daring as her elder sister, however, and her efforts to create a creditable ruse don’t go quite as she plans.
Enjoy a sneak peek! ~ Suzanne
Juliet’s plans to wed Lord Elbourne come to naught when she discovers he’s obliged to wed an heiress instead. To salvage her dignity, she enters into a ruse with the heiress’s brother, whom she views as a rake. Unfortunately, he’s also the most attractive man she’s ever met.
Cody Gryphon will do anything to see his sister Stephanie wed to Lord Elbourne, including entering into a temporary engagement with her romantic rival. Although he intends to return to Texas as soon as his sister is wed, he finds it increasingly difficult to resist Juliet’s charms.
Can a rake and a debutante find their happily ever after?
EXCERPT
Cody looked dashing and sophisticated in his elegantly tailored clothes, and Juliet was seized with an attack of nerves. Nevertheless, she cleared her throat and gave him a direct glance meant to convey a businesslike demeanor rather than one of coquetry.
“I’d like you to ruin me.” Despite her best intentions, her words were immediately followed by a blush. Why couldn’t she be more dispassionate?
His eyebrows rose. “What?”
“Just a little ruination, mind you. Nothing that can’t be hushed up in a few months or so.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not understanding you at all.”
“You’re aware, of course, of the arrangement between Lord Moregate and your father regarding Stephanie and Lord Elbourne.”
“Yes. My father is quite keen on the subject.”
“What you don’t know is that Augustus has been widely expected to propose to me.”
“Actually, I’d heard rumors to that effect.”
Juliet’s eyes widened. “I hope Stephanie hasn’t heard those rumors!”
“Not of which I’m aware.”
A sigh of relief. “Good.”
“I’m sorry for any injury this arrangement has done to you. I can tell you’re quite partial to Lord Elbourne.”
“I am partial to Augustus, and would have accepted his proposal if he’d asked. But after a careful examination of my feelings, I can truly say I’m not in love with him.”
“You’re not?” His eyebrows drew together. “If your feelings aren’t injured, then what’s this about?”
“Once society learns Augustus has thrown me off, I’ll become an object of ridicule. I mean to publicly throw him off before anyone hears about his engagement to Stephanie. For that, I need you to ruin me…ever so slightly.”
He looked at her askance. “Won’t your reputation be forevermore tarnished?”
“I’d rather be a little tarnished than humiliated, Mr. Gryphon. An earl is about to pass me over for another woman. Do you really think my prospects will be improved by such a spectacular rejection?” She averted her eyes. “If I’m to be ruined anyway, I’d rather choose the method.”
“Have you no thought to my reputation?”
She waved her hands, dismissively. “Stephanie says you’re a rake, doesn’t she? Therefore, nobody will think less of you than they already do now. Amongst your male acquaintances, I daresay the rumor of a passing indiscretion would be well received. Besides which, you’re leaving for Texas before too long, so what does your reputation matter?”
“Of course.” He folded his arms over his chest. “For the sake of curiosity, what sort of ruination did you have in mind?
BUY LINKS Amazon – Google Play – Paperback
Suzanne G. Rogers lives with her husband and son in romantic Savannah, Georgia, on an island populated by deer, exotic birds, and the occasional gator. She’s owned by two Sphynx cats, Houdini and Nikita. Movies, books, and writing are her passions.
Learn more about Suzanne G. Rogers on her historical romance blog and her fantasy blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Also, be sure to check out her website for the Sweet Romance written by Suzanne G. Rogers.
October 15, 2019
Wednesday Special Spotlight Puddings
Shines On
Our kitchen with an avocado pudding recipe from Catherine.
I (Catherine) have recently discovered avocado puddings. Never heard of them? Well, apparently they are full of good fats, loads of fiber, have a low glycemic index (which is important for those watching their carbs, and they can be made without dairy products, if you are vegan or lactose intolerant). They have the creaminess of instant puddings without the unnatural ingredients that comes in that box. The extra bonus of avocado puddings–they taste good. The kiddos will never know they are eating something good for them. So far I’ve experimented with chocolate, which was super chocolatey and not as sweet as it could have been since I skipped a lot of the sugar. I like to see how low-sugar I can possibly go.
I love pumpkin. Donald not so much. The other day I got a pumpkin craving so I decided to play with avocadoes and pumpkin. This newest culinary invention is a Ginger Pumpkin pudding. I liked it, so I decided to share the recipe. Now I won’t guarantee this recipe that makes 4 servings is low calorie, but there is quite a bit of fiber in it to help offset some of the carbs.
Avocado Ginger Pumpkin Pudding
1 ripe avocado
¾ cup canned pumpkin
1 ½ – 2 cups vanilla flavored yogurt, divided.
½ tsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
8 small gingerbread cookies, crushed, with 4 tsp. reserved
Canned whipped cream or make your own
4 tbsp. shaved chocolate, from a candy bar
Cut avocado in half, discarding pit and skin. Put flesh in a food processer and blend until smooth.
Add pumpkin, and ½ of yogurt, lemon juice and spices to avocado and blend until well mixed.
Spoon remaining yogurt into small glass dessert cups, filling cups about ½ full. Spread evenly in cup.
Spoon pumpkin mixture over the yogurt, spreading evenly.
Cover dishes with plastic wrap, gently pressing the wrap onto the top of the pudding.
Chill.
When ready to serve, top the pudding with the crushed gingerbread cookies, sprinkling evenly on top of pudding.
Add a dollop of whipped cream to top of pudding. Sprinkle reserved cookies and shaved chocolate on whipped cream.
Enjoy!
While you’re waiting for the dessert to chill, check out The Promised One, the first book in our Turning Stone Chronicle series.
When month and day are the age that is the time
When day and month are the time that is the age
When time and age agree, trinity becomes unity
If a mark didn’t come out of the bar soon, he’d have to change his hunting spot.
Danny Shaw glanced at his watch. In the past hour, only two men—too big for him to handle—had staggered out of the Dew Drop Inn Bar and Grill. He needed someone rich and easy to take down. And soon. If he arrived late again, he’d get canned. And if he lost one more job, he’d lose Lulu.
The door opened, spilling crowd noise and blue haze onto the dimly lit street. He moved back into the shadow of the building. Waiting.
A slender woman walked by, her legs wobbling on spiked heels as the hem of her blue slinky dress swished around her thighs. Whiskey and perfume wafted on the air. As she reached to smooth back her blond hair, a prism flashed on her ring finger.
As his gut tightened, adrenalin pumped through him. Perfect. Tipsy and a rock too. A big haul could make this his last job this week, allowing him more time to spend with Lulu.
He pulled his ski mask down then took his gun from his coat.
Withdrawing a silencer from his left pocket, he screwed it onto the barrel, and stepped out. The woman didn’t notice him, so he scanned the street for witnesses. No one around. Closing the gap, he made his move.
Shaw jammed the gun barrel in her back and hooked her arm. “Don’t scream,” he whispered, “and I might let you live.”
Under his hold, she stiffened. Her high heels tapped rapidly on the pavement as he steered her into the dark, littered alley. When they were well into the shadows, hidden from passersby, he shoved her against the graffiti-covered building. “Gimme your purse and jewelry.”
The woman raised perfectly manicured hands above her head, her shoulder angling toward him as she started to twist around.
“Keep your face to the wall,” he ordered.
She mumbled something into the bricks and then lowered her left hand, dangling a bejeweled handbag behind her head.
“Now the jewelry.” He snatched the purse.
She unhooked her necklace, slipped off her watch and diamond ring, then held them out.
He stuffed them into his pocket. “The other ring, too.”
“That ring has no value. It’s costume jewelry my niece gave me.”
“Take it off.”
“You’ve got my cash and credit cards, and my diamond. Isn’t that enough?”
Damn. He hated when they resisted. “Give me the ring.”
She gave an almost imperceptible shake of her head. “No.”
He jerked her around to face him. “Dammit, woman. Give me the freaking ring or I’ll blow your head off.” He yanked on the band.
Without warning, she swung her hand up, connecting with his jaw. Stunned, he stumbled backward, still clutching the hand with the ring. They fell to the pavement. Her hands clawed at his, and her feet kicked his shins, scrabbling their legs together.
Fighting for control. Fighting for the gun.
Wrapping his legs around hers, he rolled her over and pinned her beneath him with his body. Freeing his hand from her grasp, he slammed her skull on the ground. Her head rolled to the side and she lay still.
Certain he’d knocked her out, he tried to remove the ring from her finger. Suddenly she bolted up, head-banged him, and grabbed his gun hand.
As he struggled to keep control of the weapon, the barrel twisted toward him. Heart pounding, he watched his life flash in front of him.
Abusive childhood. Lousy job. Lulu. The elaborate wedding plans she’d made. He didn’t want to die. Not now.
He wrenched the gun toward the woman. The metallic pfft startled him. Round-eyed shock reflected in the woman’s face.
Shaw’s heart stopped racing as she relaxed in his grip, then amped back up, pounding against his ribs. Shit. Assault, battery, and now . . . murder. Quick and easy money to pay for the wedding. That’s all he’d been after. They’ll put me away for life if I get caught. Lulu’s gonna be pissed if I screw up her wedding plans.
Pushing into a squat, he stared at the dark stain spreading across the dress front. He removed the ring from the woman’s finger. She should have just given it to him.
The woman stared at him, blood seeping from the corner of her mouth. “Return the ring, or you’ll be sorry.”
With a short laugh he stood. “Big words for someone bleeding to death.” After dropping the ring into his pocket, he gathered the scattered contents of her purse, and started to leave.
“Wait.” The words sounded thick and slurred . . . two octaves deeper . . . with a Scottish lilt.
Shaw frowned and spun back toward her. The pounding in his chest increased. On the ground, where the woman had fallen, lay a man.
He wore the same slinky blue dress she had—the seams ripped, the dress top collapsed over hard chest muscles, instead of smoothed over soft, rounded curves. The hem skimmed across a pair of hairy, thick thighs. Muscled male thighs. Spiked heels hung at an odd angle, toes jutting through the shoe straps. The same shoes she’d been wearing.
The alley tipped. Shaw leaned against the dumpster to steady himself. He shook his head to clear the vision, then slowly moved his gaze over the body.
A pair of steel-blue eyes stared out of a chiseled face edged with a trim salt-and-pepper beard. Shaw whirled around scanning the alley.
Where was the woman? And who the hell was this guy?
Terrified, Shaw fled.
The dying man called out, “You’re cursed. Forever.”
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The Turning Stone Chronicles
Contemporary Romance
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