Karen’s Killer Fixin’s with THE PRODIGAL, Corpse Whisperer, The Series #Humorous #Paranormal #Suspense by H.R. Boldwood #Recipe ~ Autumn Orange Chicken
Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **AUTHOR SPECIAL** with H.R. BOLDWOOD !
Welcome to my Friday bonus feature called Karen’s Killer Fixin’s **Author Special**!! Today, instead of one of my recipes, I will introduce you to a new author who will share a favorite recipe. Not only will you and I occasionally learn how to make something new and delicious, but we’ll also get a chance to check out some fantastic authors. Introducing author H.R. BOLDWOOD and her favorite recipe for AUTUMN ORANGE CHICKEN!
THE PRODIGAL
Corpse Whisperer, The Series
BY H.R. BOLDWOOD
Blurb
Welcome to the world of The Corpse Whisperer!
Join me, Allie Nighthawk, a flat-broke zombie hunter, as I return to my hometown of Cincinnati and find myself knee-deep in murder, mayhem, and zombies. Can I solve not one but two murders, and get away unscathed when the good guys might not be so good and a presence from my past returns for revenge?
“If Anita Blake and Stephanie Plum had a lovechild, it would be Allie Nighthawk. One of the funniest and freshest takes on the zombie genre I’ve read, with genuine heart at the core of the humor and gore.” —Dana Fredsti, Author of the Spawn of Lilith series
The Prodigal is a 2021 Imadjinn Award finalist, and H.R. Boldwood is a Pushcart Prize nominee and winner of the Thomas More College Bilbo Award for creative writing.
THE PRODIGAL
Corpse Whisperer, The Series
BY H.R. BOLDWOOD
Excerpt
FLAT BROKE AND BUSTED
Zombie hunting isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially when you’re down to forty bucks for gas, a half-pint of Jack, two packs of Ramen Noodles and a freakish skill that comes in handy sometimes — a skill like raising the dead. Most days that’s as useful as tits on a bull. But on a good day, I get paid for it.
Corpse whisperers like me don’t grow on trees. We don’t hang out shingles or advertise BOGO deals or offer 90 days same as cash. Ours is what you’d call a niche market, and frankly, some of us are less diligent than others about putting down the corpses we’ve raised. That’s where the hunting part of zombie hunting comes in handy.
Is this a morbid and occasionally sketchy way to pay the bills? Maybe. But I’m Allie Nighthawk, the best of the badass zombie hunters, and that’s how I roll. Unfortunately, after ringing in the New Year, I was also rolling broke.
You’d think that saving the world from deadhead-aged-don would pay well. Think again. I work for myself, subcontracting my talents to local law enforcement agencies. So, when the last month deserted my wallet, I emptied my bank account and paid for my weapons arsenal to be delivered to a new destination. Shipping munitions costs more than a black market kidney, not to mention there’s a shit ton of applicable rules, so I did what any cash poor arms aficionado would do. I hired Three Men and a Truck and lied my ass off. I told them they were shipping golf clubs. Lots and lots of golf clubs — and a fifty-gallon drum of something marked ‘golf balls.’
Problem solved.
After that, I threw the noodles and my clothes into a duffel, donned my thermal gear, and climbed onto my Harley Lowrider, vowing to make the most of an unexpected warm snap. Then I lit out of St. Louis and headed back to my hometown, Cincinnati.
There were more exciting places on earth, but I owned an empty house there — the house on Pitty Pat Lane that my father had left me when he died three years earlier. The house where I was born some twenty-six years ago. I hadn’t been back since Dad’s funeral.
Once I hit the outskirts of town, I made a point of scouting out my business prospects beneath the underpasses and railroad trestles, where biters tend to lurk. It was almost midnight — the perfect time for a recon mission since biters come out at night.
Knowing that I’d have a rent-free roof over my head was a great start, but if there weren’t enough zombies to wrangle in Cincinnati, I’d be rationing noodles and swiping ketchup packets from street vendors to make tomato soup. I’d seen lean times before, and I could get as creative as the next guy tracking down dinner. But I had limits. Dumpster diving was out of the question. Nobody knows better than a zombie hunter what comes out of dumpsters.
Something caught my eye in the glow of a streetlight. Two uniforms were rousting a skel beneath the Third Street viaduct. I veered off the exit ramp, stopped about thirty feet away, and turned off my bike to watch the show.
One of the officers caught me from the corner of his eye and waved me off. “Police business, ma’am. Back off, for your own safety.”
“Sure thing,” I said, not moving a muscle.
The suspect spun toward the sound of my voice. In the yellow glare of the halogen street lights, his face — pale and shadowed with several day’s growth — gave off a flat effect. But it was his vacant stare that made me look twice. To an uneducated eye, he could have almost passed for one of the city’s homeless.
Almost.
The string of drool that dangled from his lower lip and the tremor in his limbs suggested something else. Well, that and the way he twitched. He didn’t shiver. He didn’t shudder. He did the full-on undead boogaloo.
Only one thing twitches like that. Freshies — zombies infected within the last seven days. They come across as almost normal except for the whole drooling, twitching thing and the funky, ‘south of cheese’ smell they give off.
Target acquired, baby.
There were rotters in Over the Rhine. How many remained to be seen. With any luck, I’d be able to afford crackers for my ketchup soup.
Officers TweedleDee and TweedleDum clearly had no idea what they were dealing with. They mollycoddled the meatbag, trying to shoo him down the road like some hapless drifter. A dangerous mistake, expecting a freshie to cooperate — especially a twitcher.
TweedleDee hustled the rotter across the pavement. “Shelterhouse is over on Gest Street, sir. You can sleep it off there. Move along, now.”
The biter snarled, bared its teeth and twitched again. This had ugly written all over it. I climbed off my Harley and planted my feet shoulder-width apart.
“No need to get nasty, sir,” TweedleDum said, pulling his taser. “Just move along.”
The rotter lunged. TweedleDum fired.
That freshie twitched like frog legs on a hot plate. But it kept coming. After a second useless burst from the officer’s taser, I moved in, slipped my Ka-Bar knife from its sheath and plunged it into the brain stem of the biter. Right in the apricot, baby. Bogie down. Then I got arrested and hauled into the 51st Precinct. I hadn’t even been in town for ten minutes. A record, even for me.
About Author H.R. Boldwood…
H.R. Boldwood, the author of the Corpse Whisperer series, countless short stories, and an Imadjinn Award finalist, writes urban fantasy, mystery, and speculative fiction. In another incarnation, Boldwood is a Pushcart Prize nominee and winner of the Thomas More College Bilbo Award for Creative Writing. Boldwood’s characters are often disreputable and not to be trusted. They are kicked to the publication curb at every conceivable opportunity. This author takes no responsibility for the dastardly and sometimes criminal acts committed by this ragtag group of miscreants.
~~~
Links to H.R.’s website, blog, books, #ad, etc.:
Amazon: https://amzn.to/4prrVbW
Facebook – https://www.facebook.com/HRBold/
Instagram – https://www.instagram.com/hrboldwood/
Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/H.-R.-Boldwood/e/B01LWY22MD/
BookBub – https://www.bookbub.com/profile/h-r-boldwood/
Goodreads – https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15625304.H_R_Boldwood/
~~~
I hope you enjoy H.R.’s favorite recipe today on Karen’s Killer Fixin’s. Happy Eating!Karen
P.S. We’re at 757 recipes and counting with this posting. Hope you find some recipes you like. If this is your first visit, please check out past blogs for more Killer Fixin’s. You can even look up past recipes by category in the right-hand column menu. i.e. Desserts, Breads, Beef, Chicken, Soups, Author Specials, etc.
COPYRIGHT NOTICE: If an author’s favorite recipe isn’t their own creation and came from an online site, you will now find the entire recipe through the link to that site as a personal recommendation. Thank you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTUMN ORANGE CHICKEN
Here’s a quick and easy recipe. Great for the Fall and fall off the bone tender:
1 Roasting chicken
I bottle of diet orange soda
1/4 cup low-sodium soy sauce.
Grease your roaster with cooking spray. Clean chicken inside and out and pat dry. Add the chicken. Pour the diet orange soda/soy sauce mix over the top
Cook at 350 degrees. Baste the chicken every 20 minutes until done, making sure to baste both the outside and inside of the chicken.
This is so yummy!
Happy Reading!
~~~
Thanks, H.R., for sharing your book with us!
Don’t miss the chance to read this book!
