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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

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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.

Thank a Soldier

November 4, 2024 | Author Friend Promo, Holidays

from C.D. Hersh

Today we rememberVeterans

by C.D. Hersh

In 1918, on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, armistice was signed, ending the Great War—a war fought on what was known then as the Western Front. Thirty-six years later, on June 1, 1954, Congress changed Armistice Day to Veterans Day. President Dwight D. Eisenhower defined the day as a day for a grateful nation to honor veterans of all wars. Ninety-four years after the signing of Armistice our nation’s soldiers are still protecting us, and democracy, at home and around the world.

We don’t know about you, but both our fathers fought in WWII. We had high school friends and family who served in Vietnam. Donald served in the military during the Vietnam era. We have friends who spent their entire careers serving our county. Through his career Donald has worked with military service men and women. And we know families whose sons and daughters have chosen to step up and put their lives on the line to protect America and democracy, many of them ending up in Middle Eastern war-torn countries.

Today we don’t have a military draft. The men and women who serve choose to do so, often reenlisting when they know there is a good chance in today’s turbulent political atmosphere that they could end up on a war front. Yet they still go.

Being a warrior can be a thankless job, filled with danger, pain, homesickness, loss of life or limb, or terrible struggles readjusting to civilian life. These courageous men and women are making sure you and I can remain free. This November 11, on Veteran’s Day, find a soldier, a former soldier, or a family member of a soldier and tell them how much their dedication and sacrifice to liberty and freedom means to you. Let them know that they are not forgotten. If you can’t find a soldier, or one of their family members, then say a prayer for the safety of all our military people.

On a writing note, if you like to read military romances here are a couple of authors we recommend. Karen Foley and Catherine Mann.

Here is a sample of each author’s writing:

Do you know anyone serving in the military today? Tell them thanks.

Do you have a romantic divination you’ve practiced on Halloween or another time? Share with us in the comments.

C.D. Hersh – Two hearts creating everlasting love stories.

Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to award-winning 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.

They are looking forward to many years of co-authoring and book sales, and a lifetime of happily-ever-after endings on the page and in real life.

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Amazon Author Page

Twitter

 

The Most Useless Job in Sports Broadcasting

October 21, 2024 | Author Friend Promo

from Anne Montgomery

I spent about 15 years as a sports reporter. I’d like to say things are getting better for women in the field, but there’s a lot of room for improvement.

I was a sports reporter for about 15 years. I spent about ten years in television, where I worked for five TV stations – anchoring and reporting – and about five years as a print journalist. I mention this because I pay attention to media sports positions, having given a large chunk of my life to that world.

Back when I wormed my way into the sports world, there were few other women. In my daily interactions, I almost never dealt with others of my gender. But, as more women joined the ranks, I truly believed that eventually the field would become more welcoming.

Sadly, that hasn’t happened.

Some of you may be thinking, “Gosh, Anne. You’re wrong. There are women sportscasters all over the place.”

Well, technically there are more women working in sports media today, perhaps because there are so many more broadcast outlets when compared to the days when most towns had just three TV stations and cable and the Internet didn’t exist. A handful of women have even had the opportunity to share their expertise in the booth, doing play-by-play and color commentary. But the numbers are dismal when compared to all the sportscasting jobs out there.

Kate Scott has done play-by-play for the Pac-12 network.  In The Ringer article “Where Are All the Women in Play-by-Play Broadcasting?”, Scott called the lack of women in the field a numbers game.

Most sportscasting jobs, especially the ones in color and play-by-play, are still held by men.

“If there’s 10 guys applying for a job, and one woman, there’s more of a possibility that a guy’s going to get hired, just strictly because of the numbers of it,” Scott said. “Plus, many of the people in charge are men, who may be more likely to hire other men for the job. And on top of all of that, women need to have champions in order to succeed in these roles, or people willing to take the risk. Hiring a woman to call a sports broadcast still goes against the industry norms and often requires taking a chance on an unknown. But recently, albeit slowly, that’s starting to change.”

When women do get a shot at the booth, it’s most often to call games where the participants are women.

Most often, the women called on to work in the booth are covering sports with female athletes. I’m not complaining here, just stating a fact. The logic seems to be that since women play basketball, for example, giving them a shot in the hoops booth isn’t that great a stretch. But women who call baseball, football, or ice hockey – especially at the male professional level – remain a rarity.

And when networks do decide to give women a chance, a closer look reveals they don’t have much faith in the viewing public’s willingness to listen. Remember the Thursday Night Football game when Hannah Storm and Andrea Kremer – two women who’ve been in the field for decades – became the first female team to call an NFL game? Nice! I thought! It’s about time. But then I discovered that that broadcast was an alternative feed, one that viewers had to select instead of the “normal” booth team that featured Joe Buck and Troy Aikman. That clearly showed that the folks in charge aren’t quite sure the viewing public can handle women in the booth.

Sideline reporters like Erin Andrews are often asked to be nothing more than a pretty face.

That leads us to the most useless job in sportscasting, one which, perhaps not surprisingly, is often held by women: sideline reporting. There is absolutely no reason, in my opinion, for this job to even exist. Sideline reporters rarely talk about anything but injuries. It would make more sense to have a medical professional manning the sidelines than a sports reporter. “Now let’s go down to Nurse Becky on the field!” And I’ve watched entire games where the guys in the booth only go to the sideline reporter a couple of times. So, what’s the point? I sense the position was created just so the networks can brag about how inclusive they are. “Look! Wow! We’re letting a woman step onto the field. Aren’t we great!”

Here’s the thing. Sports broadcasting is not rocket science. So, can we move along here? Open those doors and give some women a chance.

Really, what would it hurt?

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.

 

The History of Halloween

| Author Friend Promo, Holidays

by C.D. Hersh

Most people think of Halloween as a holiday for trick or treating, dressing up in costumes, a time for ghouls, ghosts and monsters to roam, a celebration of the harvest, or an excuse to have a really scary party.

In reality, Halloween has its roots in four religious holidays, three that deal with death:
• The celebration of the Celtic Druidic holiday Samhain
• The celebration of the pre-Christian Roman goddess Pomona
• The Roman festival of Feralai
• And Christianity’s All Hallow’s Eve, also called All Saints’ Eve

Samhain, celebrated on October 31st, marked the end of summer and the beginning of winter for the Celts. Druid priests performed ceremonies in honor of their sun god Baal, whom they thanked for the harvest and asked for support to battle the coming winter. They also believed that the veil between the world of the living and the dead was opened during the celebration of Samhain, and the souls of the dead roamed the earth. The ghosts were believed to play tricks on the living and cause supernatural events to happen, the origins of today’s belief that ghosts and ghouls roam freely on Halloween evening.

The Roman celebrations honoring the goddess Pomora and the festival of Feriala were also held in late October. Pomora was the goddess of fruits and trees. The use of these fruits for fortune telling stems back to her celebration. The feast of Feriala honored the dead, much like the Celts’ Samhain festival.

The Christian festival of All Hallow’s Eve is a celebration honoring the dead saints and martyrs of the church.

When the Romans conquered the Celts their autumn festivals and the Celts autumn festivals were combined until the Romans decided too many of their Roman citizens were adopting the Celtic religion. Rome’s answer to this problem was to ban the Druidic religion and kill its priests. However, the Romans could not wipe out the old Celtic beliefs and many people continued to keep the traditions alive.

When the Christians came into power they, too, wanted to do away with the very popular, old pagan rites. So, the church moved their feast of the saints (which was held in May) to November 1st , and later to October 31st, in an attempt to absorb the ingrained Samhain traditions and rites into a Christian holiday. By doing so they hoped to hold onto their new followers by allowing them to celebrate a festival on a date they had long held sacred. Once they had established the new Christian festival the church tried to discourage the old practices in favor of more Christian ones, but, like the Romans, they were not successful.

Using Christian holidays to absorb pagan ones was a tactic the church used often. Elements of pagan celebrations can be found in Valentine’s Day, Easter and Christmas celebrations. Over the years, most of the pagan holiday traditions in these celebrations were christianized. Not so with Halloween. Both the Roman Catholic Church and the Puritan founding fathers of America, who banned the celebration in the New World, could not christianize this pagan holiday.

It’s no wonder that Christianity hasn’t been able to overcome the pagan elements of Halloween. Celebrating all that death seems to be a perfect transition into one scary holiday. Ghosts, ghouls, and all things magical keep Halloween’s roots firmly planted in the otherworld that many people are drawn to…and you have to admit, they are perfect elements for stirring up for a wild paranormal tale.

While not normally thought of as a romantic holiday, Halloween has its share of divination traditions for finding true love. Since this is a website of romance authors, we would be remiss not to include some of this holiday’s romantic folklore in this article.

1 – Insert a plain ring, a coin, and other charms in a fruitcake, known as a barmbrack (báirín breac), before baking. The one who gets the ring in their slice of cake will find true love in the following year.

2 – You can divine your future spouse by peeling an apple in one long strip. Toss the peel over your shoulder. The peel will land in the shape of the first letter of your future spouse’s name.

3 – Unmarried women should sit in a darkened room and gaze into a mirror on Halloween night and the face of their future husband will appear in the mirror. But beware. If you are destined to die before marriage a skull will appear instead of the face of your intended.

4 – Name nutshells after prospective love interests and place them near a fire. If they burn steady it indicates true love. If they crack or pop or fly off the hearth your prospective love interests are only a passing fancy. Another version of this divination involved throwing two hazelnuts, named for two different suitors, into the fire. The nut that burns steadily is the suitor who will be true. The nut that bursts will be the one who will be unfaithful.

5 – Bobbing for apples is a traditional game used for fortune-telling on Halloween. (Bet you didn’t know that when you had your head in the barrel with some boy, or girl.) The first person to pluck an apple from the water without using their hands will be the first to marry. If a bobber catches an apple on the first try it means he or she will experience true love. If it takes many tries they will be fickle in their romantic endeavors.

6 – Water was often used for divination. To determine someone’s romantic fate, fill four bowls with water. Place soap in one, pebbles in another, clear water in the third, and leave the fourth bowl empty. Ask blindfolded guests to stick a hand in one of the bowls. If they choose the bowl with the clear water they will have a happy marriage. Soapy water foretells widowhood, the pebbles predict a life of hard work, and the empty bowl represents a single, happy life.

7 – Another popular, and dangerous, activity practiced when young women wore long dresses, was jumping over lit candles. If a woman made it over all the lit candles without extinguishing them she would be married before the year passed. Every candle her long skirt blew out meant another year without a husband.

Do you have a romantic divination you’ve practiced on Halloween or another time? Share with us in the comments.

C.D. Hersh – Two hearts creating everlasting love stories.

Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to award-winning 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.

They are looking forward to many years of co-authoring and book sales, and a lifetime of happily-ever-after endings on the page and in real life.

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October 14, 2024 | Holidays

To All Our Friends North of the Border,

from
the Taylor Family