Blog

No internet? Yikes!

January 20, 2025 | Author Friend Promo

How will I survive?

from Anne Montgomery

Several months ago, my internet was finicky. It went on and off several times each day. I considered that, since it’s summertime, perhaps lots of people were home sucking up those internet resources.

But then the internet went out completely. After a few hours, I called my provider. I always get a tickle out of the recorded message telling me that, if I’m having problems, I should go online and check the company’s website.

“But I have no internet!” I wanted to scream at the robotic voice that kept steering me away from contact with a real human.

After being disconnected for no apparent reason—maybe I said something to offend the AI operator—I tried again.

“Our wait times are currently very long,” the voice explained.

I didn’t hang up.

“Just a reminder, you can go to our website…”

I wanted to throw the phone but held my ground. After a about ten seconds of silence, the voice said, “You’re still there.”

I jumped! It sounded like an accusation.

“Let me get someone to assist you.”

I let out a breath. After a conversation with a real person, I learned that, indeed, the service was down all over my neighborhood. They hoped all would be well at about 6:00 PM that evening.

But twenty-four hours later, I still had no access to the Web. After standing around with my hands in my pockets wondering what to do, I tried to remember what life was like before we all became addicted to e-mail and social media and instant messaging. And I considered the number of times each day I would run to check if I’d missed something vital.

Ah…good old snail mail. Remember how exciting it was to get something with your name on it?

You know…like some huge publisher wants my newest book.

Or Netflix is interested in producing an eight-part series on my fabulous life.

Or some impressive university wants to bestow upon me an honorary doctorate for my literary brilliance.

Then, I had to admit that generally I find nothing horribly important in my daily correspondences. And yet, I can’t help myself. I remember a similar feeling each day when I was a kid anticipating the mail, the kind with paper and ink and stamps. (For you youngsters, Google it.) But back then we understood the mailman only arrived once a day, a vast difference from our current 24-hour model, that has many of us desperately seeking…I don’t know…some kind of validation, maybe.

I checked the mail on my phone—not so easy since I have four accounts—and confirmed just how unimportant I am. I tried to deal with my social media accounts, but dislike working on the tiny screen, so I put the phone down.

It was in the evening that the horrible reality hit. No streaming! There we were in Season 6 of Peaky Blinders with no access. We were forced to try TV from the antennae, compelled to sit through endless commercials. I wanted to weep.

Okay! I feel better now.

Yep, I’m a spoiled brat.

Later, I considered what I might do instead of “working” online. I closed my eyes and considered the things I do for joy: bake brownies, read a book, call a friend, play my guitar, plan a nice meal, see what’s still eatable in the garden, go for a swim.

When I opened my eyes, I was embarrassed, because I realized what I needed to do: Be grateful for what I do have.

Still, right now, the brownies are winning. So, pardon me while I go mix up a batch.

Here is a brief peek at Anne’s latest release.

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to the Graves Registration Service where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Praise for Your Forgotten Sons

“Although a defty crafted work of original fiction, “Your Forgotten Sons” by Anne Montgomery is inspired by a true story. An original and inherently interesting read from start to finish, “Your Forgotten Sons” will prove to be an immediate and enduringly appreciated pick.”  Midwest Book Review

“This was a quick, riveting read that really challenged me to think differently about our servicemen and women, especially those who take on the jobs that don’t get heroically depicted in the media or news…I really highly recommend this book to anyone that is looking for a different take on American history. I left it with a newfound appreciation for the unsung heroes.” Bekah C NetGalley

“This is the truth. It’s gritty and painful and bittersweet – and true.  When you think you’ve read every perspective of WWII, along comes Bud to break your heart.” Bridgett Siter Former Military Reporter

“Anne Montgomery writes a strong story and I was hooked from the first page. It had a great concept and I enjoyed that this was inspired by a true story…It was written perfectly and I was invested in the story. Anne Montgomery has a great writing style and left me wanting to read more.” –  Kathryn McLeer NetGalley

Available at Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Google Books, and Kobo

Anne Montgomery has worked as a television sportscaster, newspaper and magazine writer, teacher, amateur baseball umpire, and high school football referee. She worked at WRBL‐TV in Columbus, Georgia, WROC‐TV in Rochester, New York, KTSP‐TV in Phoenix, Arizona, ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut, where she anchored the Emmy and ACE award‐winning SportsCenter, and ASPN-TV as the studio host for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Montgomery has been a freelance and staff writer for six publications, writing sports, features, movie reviews, and archeological pieces.

When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.

Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.

 

DID YOU HEAR THAT?

January 13, 2025 | Author Friend Promo

from Catherine Castle

The other morning while having breakfast my husband said, “Listen. Do you hear that?”

“What?” I asked.

“That whoosha whoosha sound.”

I listened intently. “Nope. All I hear is the ticka ticka ticka of the refrigerator in its thaw cycle.”

“No,” he replied. “It’s definitely a whoosha whoosha.”

I cocked my head toward the fridge. “No it’s ticka ticka.”

“Wait,” he said. “It’s changed. It’s now zzz zzz zzz, like the vibrating sound my toy
football players used to make on their metal field.

“That’s more of a rooma rooma rooma noise.” I replied.

“No. It’s zzz zzz zzz,” he insisted.

Breakfast was on hold and the cereal got soggy in our bowls as we argued back and forth while the sounds of the thawing cycle of the fridge changed every few minutes. Neither of us heard what the other heard. Finally, the debate ended with a ka-thunk at the end of the defrost cycle. Silence filled the kitchen.

“I don’t hear anything now.” I spooned up a serving of mushy bran cereal, anxious to get back to my breakfast before it dissolved any more.

“Tick tock tick tock,” hubby said as the Mickey Mouse clock second hand rounded the clock face.

“I hear that,” I said. It was the only sound we agreed on, and it’s one that is universally known to represent a clock.

Now, I know men are from Mars and women are from Venus, and we are different in sooooo many ways. But I always thought hearing was hearing. After all, our ears, male or female, are built the same way. We have the same little ear canals connected to the same parts of the brain. I knew, even when I couldn’t hear the sounds, what the writers meant when Batman and Robin fought the bad guys and cartoon balloons appeared on the television screen screaming BAM! POW! SOCKO!

 But that morning in the kitchen I had a revelation: I wasn’t to blame when I couldn’t get a mechanic to understand me! All those years I failed to fully communicate with male mechanics wasn’t because I lacked something.

When my husband describes a funny sound in our car, the mechanics all nod their heads knowingly. But when I describe the odd sounds, the male mechanics look at me like I have two heads. I always wondered why I could never get my point across to them, no matter how many times I repeated the explanation of the sounds.

Now, I know why. Apparently, men lack the finite hearing of a woman. They don’t hear things right. A rattle rattle, clatter clatter, boom boom boom probably sounds like chicka chicka, sissa sissa, thunk thunk thunk to them. And
anyone with a pair of ears can hear that there’s a world of difference between the two sounds.

Hummm. Maybe I need a female mechanic. She’ll get it. Unlike a guy.

What about you? Does your man hear the same things you do? And I don’t mean
when someone speaks to you. But that’s a whole ’nother blog post.

All my best, 

Catherine

Multi-award-winning author Catherine Castle has been writing all her life. A former freelance writer, she has over 600 articles and photographs to her credit (under her real name) in the Christian and secular market. Now she writes sweet and inspirational romance. Her debut inspirational romantic suspense, The Nun and the Narc, from Soul Mate Publishing, has garnered multiple contests finals and wins.

Catherine loves writing, reading, traveling, singing, watching movies, and the theatre. In the winter she loves to quilt and has a lot of UFOs (unfinished objects) in her sewing case. In the summer her favorite place to be is in her garden. She’s passionate about gardening and even won a “Best Hillside Garden” award from the local gardening club.

Learn more about Catherine Castle on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out Catherine’s Amazon author page and her Goodreads page. You can also find Catherine on Stitches Thru Time and the SMP authors blog site.

LET THEM EAT SOUP!

January 6, 2025 | Cooking

Okay, so it’s not the best takeoff on Marie Antoinette’s infamous saying, but that was my little way of announcing that January is National Soup Month. It’s true. You can check it out on Wikipedia. In honor of this auspicious event, my January posts will be dedicated to soup, well, at least the Wednesday posts. So tie on your aprons and let’s get cooking!

Cream of Mushroom Soup

1 lb. fresh mushrooms – use 2 or 3 different types
8 tbsp. butter
2 small shallots or scallions, finely chopped
6 tbsp. flour
1 qt. chicken stock *
¼ cup dry sherry
2 egg yolks
½ cup heavy cream
White pepper**

Clean mushrooms with a damp paper towel. Pull the stems and caps apart. Put pieces in a food processor. Run until chopped. The mix will almost look like a paste. Or fine dice the mushrooms by hand.

Melt 2 tablespoons of butter in a 10-12 inch skillet. Add mushrooms and shallots and sauté for 3 minutes. Set the skillet aside.

In a heavy 6-quart saucepan, melt the remaining butter over medium heat. Remove pan from the heat and stir in the flour. Cook over low heat, stirring constantly, for 2 minutes. Do NOT let this brown too much or it will be bitter. The roux should be no darker than a caramel/tan.

Remove the pan from the heat. Allow to cool 10-15 seconds, then pour in the stock while whisking constantly. Return the pan to a medium-high heat and stir until the soup base thickens and is smooth, approximately 12-15 minutes.

Stir in the mushrooms and sherry. Simmer for 15 minutes, but be sure to stir occasionally.

Blend the egg yolks into the cream with a whisk. Whisk in 3 tablespoons of hot soup at a time until you’ve added ¾ cup. Reverse the process and slowly whisk the now-warm mixture into the soup. ***

Bring soup to a boil over medium-high heat. Boil 30 seconds, stirring constantly. Remove the pan from the heat. Taste and season with pepper.

Serve from a tureen or in individual bowls.

This recipe makes 6 bowls

*You can substitute up to half the amount with dry white wine
**In this recipe white pepper is used for its slightly sharper taste. There is no need to make a special trip to buy white pepper. Black pepper will work fine, just use a little more.
***This may seem like extra work, but if you don’t do it the yolks and cream will curdle.

Happy slurping!

Sloane Taylor is an Award-Winning romance author with a passion that consumes her day and night. 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 Men 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 on Amazon.

December 30, 2024 | Holidays

December 23, 2024 | Holidays

Let the Bubbly Flow

December 16, 2024 | Author Friend Promo, Cooking, Holidays

original recipes from C.D. Hersh

Busy shopping, wrapping and socializing? Ready for some rest and relaxation, but need to get going again soon? Kick back with a festive cocktail!

Here are two special drinks that you can enjoy as many as you like and not have a headache in the morning.

Cranberry Sangria by the glass mocktail recipe:

For each 8-ounce champagne glass you will need:

• 1/4 cup brewed Hibiscus Watermelon tea (we use Republic of Tea brand)
• 1/8 cup brewed Chamomile honey and vanilla tea (we use Twinings brand)
• Sparking apple cider
• 1 rounded TBS jellied cranberry sauce (smooth or whole berry)
• Fresh fruits (grapes, whole cranberries, pineapple chunks, peeled sliced star fruit, or peeled kiwi—or fruits of your choice)

Short skewer or sizzle stick. Thread fruits on a skewer or swizzle stick and set aside.

Place teas and cranberry sauce in the glass. Mix until sauce is dissolved. Fill glass with sparkling apple cider. Enjoy!

Mock Champagne by the Glass

One 8-ounce champagne flute

¼ cup white grape juice

1/8 cup Chamomile tea.

Ginger ale

Combine grape juice and tea in an 8-ounce champagne flute. Fill glass with regular or diet ginger ale. To give the drink a holiday flare, add a slice of star fruit and a couple of whole, fresh cranberries to the glass before adding the liquids.

Now kick back, relax with your drink and pick up a good book to read. You might even try one of ours that you can find over on our Amazon Author Page

ENJOY!

Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to co-authors C.D. Hersh. They’ve written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after, and that’s why they write romance.

In addition to writing Catherine and Donald love antiquing, traveling, singing, and going to the theatre. Catherine is also an avid gardener and has drawn Donald into her garden as a day laborer. They figure the couple who plays together and works together, stays together—and that’s just what they aim to do.

Second Editions Coming Soon:

Ghosts and Gardenias

The Promised One The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 1
Blood Brothers The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2
Son of the Moonless Night The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3
The Mercenary and the Shifters The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 4

Social Media Info:
Website

Blog 

Facebook
Amazon Author Page
Twitter
Goodreads

HOT OFF THE PRESS!

December 9, 2024 | Author Friend New Releases

Women’s fiction and romance writer Stella May is excited to announce the new release of New Horizon, book 4 in her Rostoff Family Saga. Here is a brief introduction and excerpt for your reading pleasure.

A promise. A warning. A vow.

Will healing find a way or condemn them to heartbreak?

Though hundreds, even thousands of miles lie between her and those she loves, Natasha is convinced one of them is in great danger. She knows it with a certainty that triggers brutal migraines and a premonition of disaster that sets her heart thundering.

Which one is it? Who is about to be torn from her life without the chance to say goodbye—or ask for forgiveness?

Maybe Katia, a talented artist, an independent woman, who still believes the lie that Natasha is dead.

Or Peter, an FBI agent in a dangerous job, who’s burdened with a secret that’s destroying his soul from the inside out.

Or Dmitry, the man she once promised never to leave—until she was forced to abandon him and his children.

With the reading of the evil and vindictive Elizabeth Rostoff’s will fast approaching, Natasha’s day of reckoning is at hand. And so is the sense of danger she just can’t shake. Sick with guilt and secrets, she must gather her courage and face reality. And banish the specter of Elizabeth Rostoff’s ghost for good. No matter what the cost.

EXCERPT

When she finally fell asleep, Natasha plunged into a nightmare. Trapped in its chilling tentacles, she struggled to wake up, but all her desperate attempts only drew her deeper into the murky horror. It seemed terrifyingly real. The smell of burnt flesh…the burst of shots…the terrible screams …the screeching sounds of mangled metal…

Panic surged upward, hot and overwhelming. Paralyzed with fear, numb from it, Natasha helplessly watched the scene unfolding before her eyes.

Mayhem. Blazing inferno scorched her skin, the gunshots made her ears ring, and the smell…My God, the smell! Horrifying. Blind from smoke, half- deaf from the gunfire, she started to run. Fast, then faster. Fighting to draw air into her lung, she pumped her legs as if her life depended on it. A sudden searing pain ripped into her shoulder, then her back. Again, and again, like someone poked her torso with a hot cattle prod. Excruciating agony ripped through her body. Her left leg gave out.

Unable to run, she stumbled, then fell.

I am dying.

With a scream trapped in her throat, she woke up. Gasping, covered in perspiration from head to toe, she jerked against the mattress, and wrestled with the sheets in an attempt to free her legs. The shadows of her nightmare still swirled in her brain. Echoes of screams and gunfire rang in her ears. Her heart thundered in her chest, beating like a sledgehammer against her ribcage.

Something’s wrong.

Fear coated her gut, chilled her to the marrow.

Someone’s hurt.

Her infamous six sense that laid dormant for a long time, resurfaced now with a vengeance. Natasha dreaded it, hated it, but learned to never doubt it. Once upon a time, it saved Katia’s life.

Who is in danger now?

Someone she loved. Someone she deeply cared about.

That means Dmitry and Katia, Rose and Larry. She talked to Rose yesterday, and her dear friend sounded happy and cheerful. Thank God.

All the others were located at the estate, if not quite happy but safe.

She and Katia spent long hours into the night talking and getting reacquaint after eighteen years of separation. There were tears, and laughter, and joy, and thankfully, no accusations or blame on Katia’s side. Elated, happy, Natasha all but lost track of time. But that emotional reunion took its toll. Finally, both depleted and exhausted, they decided to retire for the night. As Katia’s declared, they now have the whole time in the world to talk.

So, everybody accounted for, except Petya.

Delayed because of his job. A very dangerous job. She tensed.

The images from her horrible dream swam before her eyes.

Blood, fire, mangled metal and burning flesh. The sounds of gunfire like a deadly staccato still echoed in her ears. The phantom ache in her shoulder and back and left leg began pulse and burn. And she knew.

My God, Petya!

Natasha jumped from the bed, stumbled, and fell heavily down. The pain from her knees hitting the hardwood floor sang all the way to her thighs. She cursed, absently rubbed her abused flesh, then sprung up. What to do? Wake up Dmitry? And what will she tell him? That she dreamt of blood and gunfire? Phone Petya? What time is it? She turned, glanced at the wall clock. Barely six AM. Too early? After a second hesitation, she grabbed her iPhone charging on the nightstand, and quickly punched in his number. It went straight to voice mail. She disconnected, more agitated than before. Deep in her heart she knew Petya was in trouble. But what to do?

Dammit, I must do something!

She grabbed her robe from the foot of the bed, and shrugged into it, then bolted from the room. A sudden bloodcurdling wail froze her to the spot. Where did it come from? Another sound of a desperate cry chilled her blood.

Somewhere downstairs.

Before her brain registered it, she sprinted toward the staircase, as another keening turned her blood to ice. She flew along the hallway, then a flight down the stairwell, and abruptly collided against Dmitry. He grabbed her shoulders, managing to break her imminent fall. They both jolted at another sound of mournful wailing.

“Someone’s hurt!” She strained her ears, as another chilling moan pebbled her skin in goosebumps. “Where…?”

“The parlor!” He pushed her away, and barreled down the staircase. She hurried after him. At the first-floor landing, they both swerved their faces left and right.

“Oh, Christ almighty.”

Full of despair, Dmitry’s helpless oath ricocheted around the vast room. She followed his gaze. She blinked a couple of times before her eyes focused.

Katia lay sprawled on the floor near the doors, her body partially on top of the two bodies of the dogs. Tears ran in rivulets down her face, as she hugged the unresponsive shepherds. Then Katia lifted her face. Another blood-chilling moan burst free. Terrifying, her grief tore at Natasha’s soul. Unmindful of her own tears, she took a step toward the girl, but Dmitry beat her to it. Dropping on his knees in front of his daughter, he lifted her from the bodies of the dogs, and gently shook her by the shoulders. “Katie, baby, are you hurt?”

Sobbing, she sagged into his arms. “No, I’m not, but Buyan and Buran, my precious boys…” She let out a low tortured moan. “They’re dead, Daddy. Both of them. Oh, Lord!”

Thank God. Not Katia.

No matter how horrible the dogs’ fate, Natasha slumped with relief.

Katia, unharmed. Most important than anything.

Switching her gaze at the poor animals, Natasha shuddered. Lying on their sides, with their open eyes glazed with death, both huge dogs seemed to have shrunk in size. Such a horrible and sad picture. Poor Buyan and Buran. She squinted, then focused on their mouths. Thick white foam covered their muzzles, dripping down.

Poison.

The dogs were poisoned. Murdered. Intentional or an accident? Maybe, they swallowed something toxic? She shook her head. No, as trained guard dogs, they’d never root in the utility closet with all the stored cleaning supplies, much less accept food from a stranger.

So, someone from this household deliberately killed the dogs. But why? And who? Who could have done such a cruel, senseless thing?

Katia’s sudden loud scream knifed the silence. “It’s him! I know it! No one is brutal enough to do such a despicable act.”

Natasha swiveled her head at whoever Katia pointed at. It surprised her to find so many people crowding the parlor. Vera, the cook, Larry and Nick, Dmitry’s driver, and a couple of other people she failed to recognize. Towering over the group, dressed in his usual black attire, Ivan stood out like a messenger of doom.

Visibly shaking, Katia pointed her finger at him.

“You, miserable excuse for a human being, how could you! How could you take your revenge on them. They didn’t do anything to you, you bastard. They were just dogs. I’m going to kill you, I swear. I’m going to scratch your stinking eyes out of your morbid face!” And like a live missile, Katia launched to her feet and bolted toward Ivan. It took both Dmitry and Larry to intercept her, bodily dragging her away from the old butler. Like her namesake, the girl clawed, kicked, and screamed. And then, as abruptly as it started, her rage deflated. She covered her face with both hands and dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs.

Get your copy on Amazon and other popular vendors.

Stella May is the penname for Marina Sardarova who has a fascinating history you should read on her website.

Stella writes women’s fiction along with 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.

Leftovers Never Tasted So Good!

December 2, 2024 | Cooking

Most people eat turkey mainly at Thanksgiving dinner and perhaps a sandwich later that night, which is my favorite time. There is always a goodly amount of extra meat and cooks often wonder what to do with the leftovers, so they don’t taste like dried out leftovers. Sure, there’s turkey soup and enough meat to make more sandwiches than a family can consume. So how about a dish fit for a king and everyone in the realm? This recipe is a perfect, and easy, way to enjoy a warm, filling meal without that leftover taste.

Turkey ala King
Tossed Salad
Large Biscuits
Dry White Wine

Turkey ala King
2½ tbsp. butter or olive oil
⅓ cup onion, chopped
¼ cup celery, chopped
⅓ cup carrots, chopped
5 mushrooms, sliced
2½ tbsp. flour
1½ cups chicken stock
¼ cup dry white wine
¾ cup heavy cream
½ tsp. dried sage
⅛ tsp. salt
Freshly ground pepper to taste
1 cup or so chopped turkey, bitesize, room temp.
⅓ cup frozen peas, thawed

Melt butter in a Dutch oven over medium heat. You’ll need a pot this size for easy stirring. Stir in onion, celery, carrots, and mushrooms. Cook until onion is translucent, 5 – 7 minutes. Stir frequently so as not to burn onion.

Sprinkle flour over veggies. Stir constantly for 1 minute. Reduce heat then slowly add stock, wine, and cream. Continue to stir until sauce thickens, 5 – 8 minutes. Mix in sage, salt, and pepper.

Stir in turkey and peas. Reduce heat to simmer. Cook, stirring often, until turkey is heated through.

Serve over split refrigerator biscuits such Pillsbury Grands. This dish lasts 4 days in the fridge and freezes well.

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 romance author with a passion that consumes her day and night. 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 Men 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 on Amazon.

COMING SOON

November 25, 2024 | Author Friend Promo

from Stella May New Horizon, the final book in her moving Rostoff Family Saga series.

A promise. A warning. A vow.

Though hundreds, even thousands of miles lie between her and those she loves, Natasha is convinced one of them is in great danger. She knows it with a certainty that triggers brutal migraines and a premonition of disaster that sets her heart thundering.

Which one is it? Who is about to be torn from her life without the chance to say goodbye—or ask for forgiveness?

Maybe Katia, a talented artist, an independent woman, who still believes the lie that Natasha is dead.

Or Peter, an FBI agent in a dangerous job, who’s burdened with a secret that’s destroying his soul from the inside out.

Or Dmitry, the man she once promised never to leave—until she was forced to abandon him and his children.

With the reading of the evil and vindictive Elizabeth Rostoff’s will fast approaching, Natasha’s day of reckoning is at hand. And so is the sense of danger she just can’t shake. Sick with guilt and secrets, she must gather her courage and face reality. And banish the specter of Elizabeth Rostoff’s ghost for good. No matter what the cost.

EXCERPT

Natasha forced her hand to let go of the doorknob. The shock of seeing Dmitry on her doorsteps paralyzed her. Lightheaded, she clutched the round metal handle like an anchor and just stared at him.

Dear God, Dmitry…

His pictures failed do him justice. He now appeared more attractive than eighteen years ago. Arresting. Movie-star handsome. More salt than pepper, his hair remained thick and gorgeous; the lines around his mouth and eyes seemed more prominent, but none of it spoiled the overall picture. If anything, they added more character. More substance. Success and wealth poured from every cell of his body like a powerful fragrance. The arrogant tilt of head, that stubborn chin, those silver eyes — so painfully familiar. She sucked in a breath, unable to tear her gaze from him. His hard cold stare held her captive. Immobilized, mesmerized, she wondered what he saw as he studied her. Did he compare her to the image of the young woman in his memory? Did he find her lacking? She changed, as did he. But in women, the aging seemed more noticeable, and more unpleasant. Unforgiving. Even though her body remained slim and healthy, her skin bore the telltale signs of years no amount of skincare or exercising seemed capable to erase.

So silly to feel self-conscious about your appearances, Natasha. But darn it, I am woman.

A sudden overwhelming urge to smooth her hair or tug her T-shirt overcame her.

What am I wearing?

Oh, God, she completely forgot what she put on that morning. She chanced a quick glance.

And what does it matter, you fool?

Like in a stupor, she stood frozen, gazing at him, listening to the deep rumble of his voice. How many times had she heard that voice in her dreams? The low timbre of his baritone washed over her now like a sensual caress. Her brain tuned out his words, concentrating on the sound of his voice alone.

Only when he spoke about Jim— carelessly, mockingly— that Natasha snapped out of her spell.

What? A poor schmuck? The nerve of him.

He can say anything degrading about her, but Jim? He didn’t deserve it. How dare Dmitry insult a man he didn’t even know. Propelled by anger, fuming, she let go of the doorknob and glared at him. Her initial shock after seeing him on her doorstep evaporated in a flash, replaced by bubbling fury. She opened her mouth to rip into him, then stopped. Damn, they were still outside.

No way am I dealing with the arrogant bastard in plain view of my neighbors.

She opened the door wider, clamped her teeth, then lifted her chin.

“Come in. Or do you prefer to insult me outside?”

“I don’t plan to insult you at all. ” Dmitry stepped inside, then closed the door. The faint click of the lock echoed in her ears like a cannon blast.

“Funny, you could’ve fooled me.” She will congratulate herself on that show of a fake bravado later. If she survived the meeting, that is. Ignoring Dmitry, she turned in the direction of the kitchen. The short walk down the hallway seemed like a mile-long hike. Her legs turned into the overcooked noodles. She became a bundle of nerves. Jittery. Jumpy. Edgy. She sincerely hoped it didn’t show on the outside.

Hope springs eternal, Natasha.

Deep in her heart she knew that her meeting with Dmitry was inevitable. Sooner or later, he would find her. She just wasn’t sure when.

But it happened much sooner than she anticipated. Or wanted.

Here he stood, in her house, invading her personal space, destroying the shield around her heart that took her eighteen years to erect. He destroyed it in less than two seconds.

They walked into the kitchen. She turned to face him. Seemingly unperturbed, he scanned the room, his face totally impassive. The silence became deafening. Suffocating. Unbearable.

God, say something, Natasha.

She cleared her dry throat. “Drink?” Brilliant.

He turned his head in her direction, raised one eyebrow in a mocking manner.

“How civilized. Well, I guess we could start with that. Water, please.”

“Ice?”

“Yes.”

She stumbled to the fridge, took a bottle of water, then poured it into a glass. Damn, her hands trembled badly.

Forgot the ice.

With a silent oath, she fished a tray of cubes, then dumped a few into his glass.

“Have a seat.” She pointed to the table, pleased that at least her voice held firm.

“Ah, the perfect hostess,” Dmitry drawled sarcastically. “Drink, have a seat. What’s next? Weather? Stocks? Bonds?”

Enough.

With a loud thump, she plunked the glass on the table.

“I don’t care much for stocks or bonds, but if you wish, I can hold up my side of a conversation just fine.” She glared at him with her head held high. “And the weather is typical for late May in New England. Warm and comfortable. But I don’t think you came all the way here to discuss either of these topics.”

A ghost of a smile danced on his lips without reaching his eyes.

“How perceptive of you.”

“Just simple logic.”

“Logic.” As if tasting the word on his tongue, Dmitry repeated, “Logic, huh? Well, let’s talk about logic, then.”

Still standing, he picked up the glass of water she unceremoniously plopped on the table and brought it to his lips. Her gaze followed his every movement as if drawn by a magnet. After a single sip, he frowned into the glass, then lifted his eyes.

“Tell me, Natasha— or is it Tallie? — what logic can I draw from the fact that you, a woman who betrayed me for money long ago, had suddenly and conveniently resurfaced when more money beaconed on a horizon?”

Deceptively soft, his almost gentle voice set off the brutal meaning of his words. She fought hard not to flinch.

“It’s Natasha. Frankly, I don’t care what logic you may draw from it, but in your shoes, I’d wonder about something more important than money.”

Dmitry quirked a brow, all amused arrogance. “What’s more important than money?”

“Are you asking a rhetorical question, or wondering what’s more important than money to me?”

He took a step closer. “What’s more important than money to you, Natasha?”

“Trust. Loyalty.”

“Not love?”

She shook her head. “Without trust and loyalty, love is nothing.”

“I cannot agree with you more.” Without taking his eyes from her, he brought the glass to his lips again, took a long sip, then carefully put it on the kitchen table. “So, tell me, Natasha, if not money, what motivated you to betray me eighteen years ago?”

Oh, God. She held his gaze. “Love.”

“Same one that doesn’t exist without trust and loyalty?”

“Yes.”

“And what motivated you two weeks ago to contact my son?”

“Concern, confusion, and love.”

“Admirable.” Dmitry chuckled without any mirth. “Please forgive me, but I’m not buying it.”

Incredibly weary, unbelievably sad, she lowered her eyes as she pulled out a chair and sat. “Of course not. How can you buy something that has no monetary equivalent? There are some things, Dmitry, that are more valuable than your precious diamonds. But you wouldn’t understand.”

“Don’t you dare to mock me!” A temper she had seen rarely, if ever, now detonated like a grenade. “Don’t you dare sit here and mock me.”

She lifted her eyes to the enraged man towering over her. Regret, deep and profound, overshadowed all her feelings.

“I wasn’t mocking you, Dmitry. I was feeling sorry for you.”

Preordering is available on Amazon and Universal Buy Link 

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.

Treat Yourself to Mouthwatering Goodness

November 18, 2024 | Author Friend Promo, Cooking

From Sharon Ledwith

The perfect casserole for any occasion, especially holiday feasts. These super scalloped potatoes compliment any main dish your serve at your table. Tender potatoes in a creamy onion sauce baked to golden perfection would make any mouth water. Whether you’re serving spiral ham, pork chops, poultry or beef, this tasty side-dish makes six servings to share with family, friends, or friends of friends. With a prep time of 25 minutes, cook time of 1 hour and 20 minutes, and a rest time of 15 minutes for a total of 1 hour and 45 minutes, you’ve got plenty of time to visit with your company, and enjoy a glass of your favorite libation. Cheers!

Super Side Dish Scalloped Potatoes

¼ cup butter

1 large onion, diced

2 cloves garlic, minced

¼ cup flour2 cups milk

1 cup chicken broth

½ teaspoon salt

¼ teaspoon pepper

3 pounds of white potatoes, sliced about ⅛” thick

Salt and pepper to taste

 Preheat oven to 350°F

Sauce

To make the sauce, melt butter, onion, and garlic over medium-low heat. Cook until onion is softened, about 3 minutes. Add flour and cook for 1-2 minutes.

Reduce heat to low. Combine milk and broth. Add a small amount at a time whisking to thicken. The mixture will become very thick, continue adding a little bit of liquid at a time whisking until smooth.

Once all the liquid has been added, bring to a boil over medium heat while continuing to whisk. Stir in salt and pepper and let boil 1 minute.

Grease a 9 x 13 baking dish. Place ⅓ of the potatoes in the bottom and season with salt and pepper. Pour ⅓ of the cream sauce over top.

Repeat layers ending with cream sauce. Cover and bake for 45 minutes.

Uncover and bake for an additional 35-45 minutes or until golden brown, and potatoes are tender. Broil for 3-4 minutes to obtain a golden top.

Allow to rest for 15 minutes before serving.

This casserole is also a wonderful side-dish to include at your holiday get-togethers too, making a great substitute for mashed or roast potatoes. Try it. You just might love it! Once dinner is done, and you’ve got some free time on your hands, why not dig into your next read? May I suggest a visit to mysterious Fairy Falls, or if you’re feeling really adventurous, a trip back in time with The Last Timekeepers? Whichever you choose, either series will take you on a journey far, far away from entertaining the masses.

Sharon Ledwith is the author of the middle-grade/YA time travel series, THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS, and the teen psychic mystery series, MYSTERIOUS TALES FROM FAIRY FALLS. When not writing, researching, or revising, she enjoys reading, exercising, anything arcane, and an occasional dram of scotch. Sharon lives a serene, yet busy life in a southern tourist region of Ontario, Canada, with her hubby, and spends as much time as possible with her amazing grandson.

Learn more about Sharon Ledwith on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Twitter, Goodreads, and Smashwords. Look up her Amazon Author page for a list of current books. Be sure to check out THE LAST TIMEKEEPERS TIME TRAVEL SERIES Facebook page.