$.99
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author ~ ~ ~ writing and streams of consciousness
Showing posts with label cheap mystery books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cheap mystery books. Show all posts
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Mexican Hot Bread and Sacred Secrets
Mexican Hot Bread
Preheat oven to 400 degrees
Batter:
1 cup meal
2 eggs (well beaten)
1 cup milk
1 can creamed style corn
Filling:
1 lb hamburger, brown and drain
1 green pepper, chopped
1 large onion, chopped
1 8 oz. pkg. grated sharp cheddar cheese
2 jalapeno peppers
Pour half of batter in greased baking dish. Add hamburger. Add onions and peppers and then add cheese. Top with remaining batter. Bake 35 to 45 minutes or until golden brown.
Excerpt From Sacred Secrets:
Excerpt from Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery - prequel to award winning The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery.
Featured Character: Katie O'Connor
Katie O'Connor has lived on "death row" for the past 15 years. Without a heart transplant her life expectancy is less than a year. A possible heart has been found, but little does Katie know that it will forever change her life and set her on a course of destiny that she may not survive.
********************************************************************************
Katie wrung her hands in her lap as the intern took another curve, maneuvering the car onto the main highway at a rate of speed that was surely against the law. Everything was moving so fast. The tearful goodbye with Clover. The trip home. She had barely gotten unpacked before exhaustion overcame her. She’d slept most of yesterday, and then the phone had rung. Now the mad dash to the hospital. What exactly had Dr. Wagner said? We may have found you a heart. And what did that mean anyway? Was it possible that someone was dying as they rushed to the hospital? Could they maybe live? Had she truly gotten a pardon from death row, or was this some cruel joke of the executioner.
“What did Dr. Wagner mean, he may have found a heart?”
The intern took his eyes from the road for a moment, smiled at Katie. “There was an accident. A young man with severe head injuries. Your age, good heart.”
“So he isn’t dead yet? What am I supposed to do, sit around wishing he would hurry up?”
Katie knew her voice was more brusque than she had intended. But surely Dr. Wagner didn’t expect her to sit and wait for someone to die.
The intern braked, going into another curve at breakneck speed. “Actually it’s the opposite. He’s brain dead, so technically he’s already been declared dead. We just have to wait until he gets here and hope he doesn’t die on the way.”
Katie wondered if the intern had any clue how coldhearted his words sounded to her. How cruel to the family of the dying young man. A young man who had signed a donor card so that if he died someone else might live. A young man who wouldn’t get an appeal of his case. The executioner had already dropped the axe.
“How do we know he’ll match.”
Katie almost missed his words, they were spoken so low.
“We don’t.”
Author Bio: Linda lives in Lexington, Kentucky with her fiancé, Coby W. Fuson. She has always been interested in writing mysteries, but felt she found her calling when combining her love of mystery, paranormal and metaphysical.
BUY NOW: $2.99
Also available at B & N and Smashwords
Preheat oven to 400 degrees
Batter:
1 cup meal
2 eggs (well beaten)
1 cup milk
1 can creamed style corn
Filling:
1 lb hamburger, brown and drain
1 green pepper, chopped
1 large onion, chopped
1 8 oz. pkg. grated sharp cheddar cheese
2 jalapeno peppers
Pour half of batter in greased baking dish. Add hamburger. Add onions and peppers and then add cheese. Top with remaining batter. Bake 35 to 45 minutes or until golden brown.
Excerpt From Sacred Secrets:
Excerpt from Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery - prequel to award winning The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery.
Featured Character: Katie O'Connor
Katie O'Connor has lived on "death row" for the past 15 years. Without a heart transplant her life expectancy is less than a year. A possible heart has been found, but little does Katie know that it will forever change her life and set her on a course of destiny that she may not survive.
********************************************************************************
Katie wrung her hands in her lap as the intern took another curve, maneuvering the car onto the main highway at a rate of speed that was surely against the law. Everything was moving so fast. The tearful goodbye with Clover. The trip home. She had barely gotten unpacked before exhaustion overcame her. She’d slept most of yesterday, and then the phone had rung. Now the mad dash to the hospital. What exactly had Dr. Wagner said? We may have found you a heart. And what did that mean anyway? Was it possible that someone was dying as they rushed to the hospital? Could they maybe live? Had she truly gotten a pardon from death row, or was this some cruel joke of the executioner.
“What did Dr. Wagner mean, he may have found a heart?”
The intern took his eyes from the road for a moment, smiled at Katie. “There was an accident. A young man with severe head injuries. Your age, good heart.”
“So he isn’t dead yet? What am I supposed to do, sit around wishing he would hurry up?”
Katie knew her voice was more brusque than she had intended. But surely Dr. Wagner didn’t expect her to sit and wait for someone to die.
The intern braked, going into another curve at breakneck speed. “Actually it’s the opposite. He’s brain dead, so technically he’s already been declared dead. We just have to wait until he gets here and hope he doesn’t die on the way.”
Katie wondered if the intern had any clue how coldhearted his words sounded to her. How cruel to the family of the dying young man. A young man who had signed a donor card so that if he died someone else might live. A young man who wouldn’t get an appeal of his case. The executioner had already dropped the axe.
“How do we know he’ll match.”
Katie almost missed his words, they were spoken so low.
“We don’t.”
Author Bio: Linda lives in Lexington, Kentucky with her fiancé, Coby W. Fuson. She has always been interested in writing mysteries, but felt she found her calling when combining her love of mystery, paranormal and metaphysical.
BUY NOW: $2.99
Also available at B & N and Smashwords
Monday, May 2, 2011
Casseroles and The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery - Meet the Characters
Shoepeg Corn Casserole
1/2 C. chopped onion
1/3 C. green pepper
1/2 C. Celery
1 C. French green beans - drained
1 C. shoepeg corn
1 C. celery soup
1 8 oz. sour cream
1/2 C. cheese - grated
Salt and pepper to taste
1 stack Ritz crackers
1 stick oleo - melted
Sauté onion, green pepper, and celery. Add remaining ingredients except crackers and butter. Crumble crackers as a topping. Dribble melted butter over all. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
English Pea Casserole
1 sm. Onion - chopped
1 green bell pepper - chopped
1 stick butter
2 cans English peas - drained
1 C. water chestnuts chopped (with liquid)
1 can mushroom soup
Sauté onion and pepper in butter. Add peas, water chestnuts and mushroom soup. Put in square baking dish and top with buttered crumbs. Brown until bubbly and crumbs are brown.
Sweet Potato Casserole
1 lg. can sweet potatoes
1/2 stick margarine
1/2 t. apple pie spice
1 1/2 C. sugar
3 eggs
3/4 C. condensed milk
2/3 C. potato juice
1/4 t. vanilla
Heat potatoes and juice. Drain and save 3/4 cup juice. Mash margarine with potatoes. Add apple pie spice, sugar, eggs, condensed milk, potato juice, and vanilla. Beat all together in mixer. Bake 1 hour at 350 degrees. Put mixed topping on baked casserole. Place under broiler until brown.
Topping
1/4 stick oleo
1/2 C. sugar
2 T. milk
1/4 t. salt
1 t. vanilla
1/2 C. pecan halves
Hamburger Casserole
1 pound ground beef
2 tablespoons butter
4 medium sized potatoes
2 onions
1 teaspoon salt
dash pepper
1 cup tomato soup
Brown the beef in skillet with butter. Cut potatoes in 1/2 inch cubes and spread in a baking dish. Cover with half the meat. Add half the soup and a sliced onion. Season with salt and pepper. Repeat, using remaining ingredients. Bake 1 1/2 hours in a 350 degree oven. More soup may be added during baking if needed.
Gavin The nightmares were getting stronger, the screams louder, closer. And this time there had been blood and pain. The knot in his stomach still hurt, and there was a strange ache in his chest. An eerie sadness. “What the hell have I done?” he whispered.
Sarah She hated the dreams. Hated the feeling of helplessness they created inside her as the dying reached out, sending messages to loved ones, or crying out for vengeance against their attacker. Only this time the dream had been different. This time the message was for Sarah.
Carl “Didn’t expect an old biddy like you to hit a man so hard.” He groaned, opening his eyes and glaring at Millie. Clarence stepped next to Millie, placing an arm protectively around her shoulders. “I’m afraid I hit you, Mr. Jackson. Saw you skulking around and followed you.” Carl turned his fierce gaze on Clarence, but held his tongue. The old fart looked pretty tough, even barefoot. Besides, he wasn’t in any shape to take on the two of them.
Rob The words cleared the remaining fog from Rob’s brain. Taking the mug of steaming coffee from Carl’s hand, he sat down at the table. His head still pounded, but his eyes were sharp and clear, his voice strong, “I’ve got your back, Carl.”
Nikki
A heartbreaking smile lit up the small face. Gavin found himself entranced, images flowing through his mind. He could see himself teaching her to play ball, pacing the floor while she was out on her first date, walking her down the aisle. He mentally shook himself, dispelling the images as he concentrated on what she was saying. “I’m going to write books some day about a beautiful ballerina who travels all over the world and solves crimes and helps people.”
Millie Millie couldn’t stop herself from lifting the blinds and taking a quick peek to see if he was still there. A slight pang of disappointment filled her when she saw he had already entered the flower shop. “Flirtatious old coot,” she muttered to herself as she opened the bookstore for business. Always calling me Millicent. She stopped her muttering as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the counter. The slight flush on her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes belied her age, as did the spring in her walk. The old fool had her feeling like a teenager. Maybe she’d just take a walk over there and see those new roses. He could probably use a good cup of coffee. Might even ask him over for dinner one night. Possibilities. The old coot had definite possibilities.
Joshua Taking the mike, Joshua lowered his voice. “Listen, Sarah, get everybody you can out to the old mill on Elliott Pike. I’m sending Gavin back with Nikki. I’ll stay here and watch Cooper until backup arrives.” Joshua clicked off, his eyes meeting Gavin’s over Nikki’s head. “That’s the way it’s gonna be, partner." Gavin nodded. He knew somebody had to stay. “No heroes?” Joshua grinned, popping a fresh toothpick between his teeth. “I ain’t the hero type.”
Clarence Millie smiled, still running her hand over the smooth surface. “She’s a real classic.” “Yep.” Clarence moved in, putting his arm around her. “Classics are hard to find today. When I find one, I tend to hold onto it.”
1/2 C. chopped onion
1/3 C. green pepper
1/2 C. Celery
1 C. French green beans - drained
1 C. shoepeg corn
1 C. celery soup
1 8 oz. sour cream
1/2 C. cheese - grated
Salt and pepper to taste
1 stack Ritz crackers
1 stick oleo - melted
Sauté onion, green pepper, and celery. Add remaining ingredients except crackers and butter. Crumble crackers as a topping. Dribble melted butter over all. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes.
English Pea Casserole
1 sm. Onion - chopped
1 green bell pepper - chopped
1 stick butter
2 cans English peas - drained
1 C. water chestnuts chopped (with liquid)
1 can mushroom soup
Sauté onion and pepper in butter. Add peas, water chestnuts and mushroom soup. Put in square baking dish and top with buttered crumbs. Brown until bubbly and crumbs are brown.
Sweet Potato Casserole
1 lg. can sweet potatoes
1/2 stick margarine
1/2 t. apple pie spice
1 1/2 C. sugar
3 eggs
3/4 C. condensed milk
2/3 C. potato juice
1/4 t. vanilla
Heat potatoes and juice. Drain and save 3/4 cup juice. Mash margarine with potatoes. Add apple pie spice, sugar, eggs, condensed milk, potato juice, and vanilla. Beat all together in mixer. Bake 1 hour at 350 degrees. Put mixed topping on baked casserole. Place under broiler until brown.
Topping
1/4 stick oleo
1/2 C. sugar
2 T. milk
1/4 t. salt
1 t. vanilla
1/2 C. pecan halves
Hamburger Casserole
1 pound ground beef
2 tablespoons butter
4 medium sized potatoes
2 onions
1 teaspoon salt
dash pepper
1 cup tomato soup
Brown the beef in skillet with butter. Cut potatoes in 1/2 inch cubes and spread in a baking dish. Cover with half the meat. Add half the soup and a sliced onion. Season with salt and pepper. Repeat, using remaining ingredients. Bake 1 1/2 hours in a 350 degree oven. More soup may be added during baking if needed.
Gavin The nightmares were getting stronger, the screams louder, closer. And this time there had been blood and pain. The knot in his stomach still hurt, and there was a strange ache in his chest. An eerie sadness. “What the hell have I done?” he whispered.
Sarah She hated the dreams. Hated the feeling of helplessness they created inside her as the dying reached out, sending messages to loved ones, or crying out for vengeance against their attacker. Only this time the dream had been different. This time the message was for Sarah.
Carl “Didn’t expect an old biddy like you to hit a man so hard.” He groaned, opening his eyes and glaring at Millie. Clarence stepped next to Millie, placing an arm protectively around her shoulders. “I’m afraid I hit you, Mr. Jackson. Saw you skulking around and followed you.” Carl turned his fierce gaze on Clarence, but held his tongue. The old fart looked pretty tough, even barefoot. Besides, he wasn’t in any shape to take on the two of them.
Rob The words cleared the remaining fog from Rob’s brain. Taking the mug of steaming coffee from Carl’s hand, he sat down at the table. His head still pounded, but his eyes were sharp and clear, his voice strong, “I’ve got your back, Carl.”
Nikki
A heartbreaking smile lit up the small face. Gavin found himself entranced, images flowing through his mind. He could see himself teaching her to play ball, pacing the floor while she was out on her first date, walking her down the aisle. He mentally shook himself, dispelling the images as he concentrated on what she was saying. “I’m going to write books some day about a beautiful ballerina who travels all over the world and solves crimes and helps people.”
Millie Millie couldn’t stop herself from lifting the blinds and taking a quick peek to see if he was still there. A slight pang of disappointment filled her when she saw he had already entered the flower shop. “Flirtatious old coot,” she muttered to herself as she opened the bookstore for business. Always calling me Millicent. She stopped her muttering as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the counter. The slight flush on her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes belied her age, as did the spring in her walk. The old fool had her feeling like a teenager. Maybe she’d just take a walk over there and see those new roses. He could probably use a good cup of coffee. Might even ask him over for dinner one night. Possibilities. The old coot had definite possibilities.
Joshua Taking the mike, Joshua lowered his voice. “Listen, Sarah, get everybody you can out to the old mill on Elliott Pike. I’m sending Gavin back with Nikki. I’ll stay here and watch Cooper until backup arrives.” Joshua clicked off, his eyes meeting Gavin’s over Nikki’s head. “That’s the way it’s gonna be, partner." Gavin nodded. He knew somebody had to stay. “No heroes?” Joshua grinned, popping a fresh toothpick between his teeth. “I ain’t the hero type.”
Clarence Millie smiled, still running her hand over the smooth surface. “She’s a real classic.” “Yep.” Clarence moved in, putting his arm around her. “Classics are hard to find today. When I find one, I tend to hold onto it.”
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Excerpt and some homemade fruit, veggie and chip dips
Introducing two of my favorite characters - Billy Dawson and Charity Froste. Hope you enjoy the excerpt and some really great cookout dips to try.
“And so it begins.” Billy Dawson flipped over the tarot card, placing it on top of the first card.
Charity Froste sighed, poured two cups of coffee and took a seat across the table from him.
“Jacody soon be on his way,” she stated, sipping the thick hot liquid. She rolled her eyes, noticing the cards. New fangled toys was what they was. She touched the medicine bag lying between her two huge breasts. Now there was real magic.
Billy didn’t look up. He didn’t need to. He could feel her disapproval. “Tools, Miss Charity. The cards, the stones, the bones, they’re all just tools.”
“Dem’ bones don’t lie,” Charity chastised him.
Billy swallowed the laugh on his lips as the wind carried the sound to their ears. A lonesome sound. A sound of pain. A sound of heartache. The sound of a lost soul.
Billy turned over the next card. The Hanged Man.
Perhaps the sound of destiny.
Tonight a soul would pass into the netherworld. The white wolf would howl its mournful song. The elder would dance and sing his prayers to God. The dreamers would dream.
“Told you dem’ bones don’t lie.” Charity eyed him suspiciously. “You called the wolf, didn’t you?”
Billy shuffled the cards, ignoring the question. She knew the answer. “We can’t be interfering, Miss Charity.”
“He’s a good man.”
“Yes, ma’am, I reckon he is.”
“Ain’t right.” Charity clutched the cup tightly. Time was running out. Night would come all too soon. A dark night.
“No, ma’am.” Billy continued to shuffle, mindful to be respectful and listen. Answering her, although it probably wasn’t necessary.
Charity studied her reflection in the coffee cup. Lost in thought. “He didn’t choose the path he’s on.”
“No, ma’am. I don’t reckon he did.” Billy pulled another card. Miss Charity was losing her accent.
“Somebody chose it for him before he was even born. It just isn’t right, I tell you. And I can’t just sit here and do nothing. I can’t just watch him die. I’m not going to do that, Billy Dawson. You can’t ask me to do that.”
Billy reached for the last card, avoiding her searching eyes. He knew what she wanted. What she needed. She was waiting for him to say something. Answer the question she hadn’t asked. Condone her interference, or condemn her actions not yet taken. He could neither condone nor condemn. He’d already interfered. Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Billy turned the last card over. The Devil grinned up at him. A male chained to his left, a female to his right. His smile a mockery of everything Billy believed in.
Lifting his head he met her gaze. There was nothing he could say to ease her pain. “I’m sorry, Miss Charity.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cheese Dip
2 lb. Mexican Velveeta Cheese
1 lb. sausage
1 - 15 oz. can stewed tomatoes
Brown sausage and drain. Melt cheese on low heat. Stir in sausage and stewed tomatoes. Do not drain. (for those with a love of "hot" stir in some jalapeno peppers).
Bagel Dip
8 oz. package cream cheese
1 cup MIRACLE WHIP
2 - 3 oz. Buddig beef packages
1 bunch green onions, chopped
Dash of Worcestershire sauce
Dash of garlic powder
Mix all together and chill.
Onion and Bacon Dip
8 oz. pkg. cream cheese, softened
6 slices bacon, fried crisp & crumbled
Dash of salt
1 medium onion, chopped fine
Miracle Whip
Mix first four ingredients together and add enough Miracle Whip to make smooth and of dip consistency.
Mexican Dip
1 - 8 oz cream cheese, softened
1 - 8 oz. carton sour cream
1 can refried beans
1 envelope taco seasoning mix
20 drops Tabasco sauce
3 green onions chopped
Mix all together. Spread in casserole dish. Cover with shredded cheese (about 1 cup). Bake at 350 for about 25 to 30 minutes until hot throughout. Serve with nacho chips.
Artichoke Dip
1 cup Parmesan Cheese
1 can artichokes
1 cup mayonnaise
Stir ingredients together. Bake in oven at 350 degrees for 40 minutes.
Veggie Dill Dip
1 pint sour cream
1 cup Hellman's mayonnaise
6 tsp. dill weed
6 tsp. minced onion
4 tsp. parsley flakes
2 tsp. Lawry's Seasoned Salt
Mix all together, chill; serve. Good with veggies or chips.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Guest Blogger Thea Atkinson - Spirit of Evidence
For the month of April, fellow author, Thea Atkinson is streaking through 30 blogs and flashing us a piece of fiction. I generously offered her a space today so she could expose a piece. My blog will be back to normal tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy and follow the links at the end to see who she flashed yesterday and who she will flash tomorrow. Feel free to leave a comment to let me know if you enjoyed the streak, and you are welcome to tweet it or share it on Facebook. You can also follow the chain through twitter with the hashtag #blogstreak
Spirit of Evidence
By Thea Atkinson
http://theaatkinson.wordpress.com/
If he didn't know for certain that his wife was long-murdered, he'd speak to the woman in his kitchen. As it was, he ignored her.
He reached into the cupboard to pick out a box of corn flakes, and she, in a tattered housecoat and ratty slippers, knelt purposefully on the linoleum in front of him. He could see the cotton flaps spann out from the corner of his eye, the slippers show their soles, then as if kicked or pulled, one took to the air. It landed on his foot.
"You're not there," he mumbled, shuffling over to the fridge.
Sour milk smells came at him when he pulled at the door, and something else -- some sort of rancid fat stink.
"S’Ok anyway. I don't need no milk," he said. "I’ll just eat them dry." He stuck his fingers in the box, rattling the flakes like gambling chips. Then he picked one out -- the largest -- and laid it on his tongue.
A sound came from where the woman was lying now, flat on her back, one leg straight, the other splayed open. He had a horrible urge to pull her housecoat down; she looked obscene lying there, granny panties -- how he hated those things -- showing. She should close her legs, pull her clothes more discreetly over her body. Nobody wanted to look at an old woman or her crepe-skin thighs, the sagging stomach with a butt-crack of an operation scar running down the center. Or the breasts, once large and exciting, now hanging to her navel, nipples tucked neatly beneath so that you'd never know they were there unless you felt for them. Late at night when the need came in dreams of pert-skinned women rubbed lotion on themselves and on each other and on him. Yes, late at night when all that was there was her flaccid skin so much like an impotent member that you felt sick in the morning when you remember touching it. Sick when the skin showed through her 50-year-old robe. Sicker still when you remember trying, wanting, that even the tissue paper flesh would have been enough for just that one moment. Just once.
And now look at her. Lying there. Head to the side -- the other side -- not looking at you. Not blaming. Looking away as she always did, without words saying, "it's OK, baby. It's OK."
Well it wasn't OK. And that woman lying there on the floor not looking at him, not blaming him, was not her.
She was just some figment of his dreams or wishes or secret desires. Kept impotent within; please God, let them have been impotent.
April 1 Susie Kline (any genre)
http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fmotherhoot.com%2Fblog1%2F%3Fpage_id%3D515&h=ae1edJ_rZcYVLKw9HuVnfYZkH4g
Alzheimer’s
april 2 Linda Prather (mystery)
http://www.jacodypress.blogspot.com/
april 3 Sarah Barnard (fantasy)
http://www.sarahbarnard.co.uk/blog/
Spirit of Evidence
By Thea Atkinson
http://theaatkinson.wordpress.com/
If he didn't know for certain that his wife was long-murdered, he'd speak to the woman in his kitchen. As it was, he ignored her.
He reached into the cupboard to pick out a box of corn flakes, and she, in a tattered housecoat and ratty slippers, knelt purposefully on the linoleum in front of him. He could see the cotton flaps spann out from the corner of his eye, the slippers show their soles, then as if kicked or pulled, one took to the air. It landed on his foot.
"You're not there," he mumbled, shuffling over to the fridge.
Sour milk smells came at him when he pulled at the door, and something else -- some sort of rancid fat stink.
"S’Ok anyway. I don't need no milk," he said. "I’ll just eat them dry." He stuck his fingers in the box, rattling the flakes like gambling chips. Then he picked one out -- the largest -- and laid it on his tongue.
A sound came from where the woman was lying now, flat on her back, one leg straight, the other splayed open. He had a horrible urge to pull her housecoat down; she looked obscene lying there, granny panties -- how he hated those things -- showing. She should close her legs, pull her clothes more discreetly over her body. Nobody wanted to look at an old woman or her crepe-skin thighs, the sagging stomach with a butt-crack of an operation scar running down the center. Or the breasts, once large and exciting, now hanging to her navel, nipples tucked neatly beneath so that you'd never know they were there unless you felt for them. Late at night when the need came in dreams of pert-skinned women rubbed lotion on themselves and on each other and on him. Yes, late at night when all that was there was her flaccid skin so much like an impotent member that you felt sick in the morning when you remember touching it. Sick when the skin showed through her 50-year-old robe. Sicker still when you remember trying, wanting, that even the tissue paper flesh would have been enough for just that one moment. Just once.
And now look at her. Lying there. Head to the side -- the other side -- not looking at you. Not blaming. Looking away as she always did, without words saying, "it's OK, baby. It's OK."
Well it wasn't OK. And that woman lying there on the floor not looking at him, not blaming him, was not her.
She was just some figment of his dreams or wishes or secret desires. Kept impotent within; please God, let them have been impotent.
April 1 Susie Kline (any genre)
http://www.facebook.com/l.php?u=http%3A%2F%2Fmotherhoot.com%2Fblog1%2F%3Fpage_id%3D515&h=ae1edJ_rZcYVLKw9HuVnfYZkH4g
Alzheimer’s
april 2 Linda Prather (mystery)
http://www.jacodypress.blogspot.com/
april 3 Sarah Barnard (fantasy)
http://www.sarahbarnard.co.uk/blog/
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Snakes, Alligators and Voodoo--More of Find Me a WIP
I've really enjoyed working on this book, and the research into things I had absolutely no clue about. Hope you enjoy the excerpt.
Catherine kept her hands inside the boat, but couldn't help being drawn into the beauty of the Bayou as the marsh sparkled in the later afternoon glow. An alligator scampered away from the bank as the canoe approached. Herons, egrets and seabirds flew up from the grasses. The Bayou was certainly wild, beautiful and deadly.
"How far do we have to go?" Catherine asked, noting the shadows were getting longer around them. She really didn't want to be in this water after dark.
Aureole spoke with her grandfather who shrugged and kept paddling. "Grandpa says patience is a virtue."
Catherine bit her lip to keep from cursing out loud. Grandpa hadn't really said anything. It was clear Aureole didn't like her. Yet at times there was something in her eyes. Something very sad. There were so many questions Catherine needed answered and Aureole was her only hope of getting those answers.
"Tell me about Voodoo, and how my mother got involved."
Aureole shifted in the boat, causing it to rock gently and Catherine to reach for the sides.
"There are several religions referred to as voodoo, or voudou. There's also hoodoo which is similar in some respects. Our religion is a combination of Roman Catholic, African animism and Christianity. We believe in one God who is all powerful. Many of our traditional ceremonies are presided over by Roman Catholic priests.
"In the old world we call God "Bondje", meaning "Good God". We reach him/her/it through the spirits. We worship God, and serve the spirits.
"There are twenty-one nations of spirits, called the "lwa-yo". The more important nations of Lwa are Rada, Nago and Kongo. The spirits sometimes come in families such as Ogou, Ezilli, Azaka or Gede.
"Rada sprits are familial and mostly come from Africa. Petwo spirits are native to Haiti and can be more demanding and require more attention to detail. Both can be dangerous if angry or upset, although they are not good or evil. They simply are.
"Everyone has spirits, and each person has a special relationship with one particular spirit who is said to "own their head", but we have many lwa, and the one that owns our head, the "met tet" may or may not be the most active spirit in our life."
Catherine listened to the recitation, which sounded like it came from a history book, but her mind honed in on the twenty-one nations. Each of the victims had been stabbed twenty-one times. Why?
"Do you want to know more, or are you bored yet?" Aureole turned giving her a condescending look, clearly expecting her to be bored.
"I think it's fascinating. Of course, I could have read everything you just said in a textbook. Do you find it that boring?"
Aureole rocked the boat again, this time almost capsizing it, and gaining her a rebuke from her grandfather.
"Sorry," Aureole mumbled, clearly not sorry at all. Unless she was sorry Catherine hadn't fallen out of the boat.
" You still haven't told me how my mother became involved in this."
"I can only tell you what my grandfather has told me. Mother Rose was a Catholic nun who served in Haiti for many years. There she met my grandfather, and from there we came to New Orleans. When I say "we" I mean of course the Duprè family. She brought us to the Blanchard plantation where my family worked for yours. When grandfather saw your mother she was surrounded by spirits, and he knew immediately that she was born to be a "manbo" or high priestess. He trained her for many years, although to hear him tell it she trained his as well. She was an amazing woman."
"You knew my mother?" Catherine asked, noting the emphasis Aureole had placed on was an amazing woman.
"I told you, we came over with Mother Rose. We lived with you."
"Catherine. . . . come play with me."
"Were we friends?" Catherine asked.
Aureole turned, leveling her with an angry gaze. "I thought we were."
Catherine remained quiet as darkness closed in around them. The Bayou came alive with strange noises, and ravenous bugs. Thank God she had on jeans and long sleeves, but she found herself constantly swatting giant mosquitoes from her neck and face. Surely they didn't have much further to go.
Almost as if Grandpa had read her mind the canoe slowed and they approached the bank. Taking off her shoes Aureole jumped into the murky waters and pulled the boat ashore, tying it off to a huge tree.
Catherine followed Grandpa's lead and walked to the front of the canoe, stepping gingerly onto the bank. Once again she thanked God she'd worn boots. Five hundred dollar boots that were now covered in Mississippi mud.
Grandpa disappeared into the trees and Aureole slipped her shoes back on mud covered feet. "We walk from here."
Catherine looked around her, hearing the sound of a huge splash behind her in the water. "It's almost dark, how are we supposed to see where we're going?"
Aureole tied her shoe laces, glancing at the alligator now about ten foot from shore. "Guess you'd better keep up then hadn't you? The Kayiman looks hungry."
Catherine kept her hands inside the boat, but couldn't help being drawn into the beauty of the Bayou as the marsh sparkled in the later afternoon glow. An alligator scampered away from the bank as the canoe approached. Herons, egrets and seabirds flew up from the grasses. The Bayou was certainly wild, beautiful and deadly.
"How far do we have to go?" Catherine asked, noting the shadows were getting longer around them. She really didn't want to be in this water after dark.
Aureole spoke with her grandfather who shrugged and kept paddling. "Grandpa says patience is a virtue."
Catherine bit her lip to keep from cursing out loud. Grandpa hadn't really said anything. It was clear Aureole didn't like her. Yet at times there was something in her eyes. Something very sad. There were so many questions Catherine needed answered and Aureole was her only hope of getting those answers.
"Tell me about Voodoo, and how my mother got involved."
Aureole shifted in the boat, causing it to rock gently and Catherine to reach for the sides.
"There are several religions referred to as voodoo, or voudou. There's also hoodoo which is similar in some respects. Our religion is a combination of Roman Catholic, African animism and Christianity. We believe in one God who is all powerful. Many of our traditional ceremonies are presided over by Roman Catholic priests.
"In the old world we call God "Bondje", meaning "Good God". We reach him/her/it through the spirits. We worship God, and serve the spirits.
"There are twenty-one nations of spirits, called the "lwa-yo". The more important nations of Lwa are Rada, Nago and Kongo. The spirits sometimes come in families such as Ogou, Ezilli, Azaka or Gede.
"Rada sprits are familial and mostly come from Africa. Petwo spirits are native to Haiti and can be more demanding and require more attention to detail. Both can be dangerous if angry or upset, although they are not good or evil. They simply are.
"Everyone has spirits, and each person has a special relationship with one particular spirit who is said to "own their head", but we have many lwa, and the one that owns our head, the "met tet" may or may not be the most active spirit in our life."
Catherine listened to the recitation, which sounded like it came from a history book, but her mind honed in on the twenty-one nations. Each of the victims had been stabbed twenty-one times. Why?
"Do you want to know more, or are you bored yet?" Aureole turned giving her a condescending look, clearly expecting her to be bored.
"I think it's fascinating. Of course, I could have read everything you just said in a textbook. Do you find it that boring?"
Aureole rocked the boat again, this time almost capsizing it, and gaining her a rebuke from her grandfather.
"Sorry," Aureole mumbled, clearly not sorry at all. Unless she was sorry Catherine hadn't fallen out of the boat.
" You still haven't told me how my mother became involved in this."
"I can only tell you what my grandfather has told me. Mother Rose was a Catholic nun who served in Haiti for many years. There she met my grandfather, and from there we came to New Orleans. When I say "we" I mean of course the Duprè family. She brought us to the Blanchard plantation where my family worked for yours. When grandfather saw your mother she was surrounded by spirits, and he knew immediately that she was born to be a "manbo" or high priestess. He trained her for many years, although to hear him tell it she trained his as well. She was an amazing woman."
"You knew my mother?" Catherine asked, noting the emphasis Aureole had placed on was an amazing woman.
"I told you, we came over with Mother Rose. We lived with you."
"Catherine. . . . come play with me."
"Were we friends?" Catherine asked.
Aureole turned, leveling her with an angry gaze. "I thought we were."
Catherine remained quiet as darkness closed in around them. The Bayou came alive with strange noises, and ravenous bugs. Thank God she had on jeans and long sleeves, but she found herself constantly swatting giant mosquitoes from her neck and face. Surely they didn't have much further to go.
Almost as if Grandpa had read her mind the canoe slowed and they approached the bank. Taking off her shoes Aureole jumped into the murky waters and pulled the boat ashore, tying it off to a huge tree.
Catherine followed Grandpa's lead and walked to the front of the canoe, stepping gingerly onto the bank. Once again she thanked God she'd worn boots. Five hundred dollar boots that were now covered in Mississippi mud.
Grandpa disappeared into the trees and Aureole slipped her shoes back on mud covered feet. "We walk from here."
Catherine looked around her, hearing the sound of a huge splash behind her in the water. "It's almost dark, how are we supposed to see where we're going?"
Aureole tied her shoe laces, glancing at the alligator now about ten foot from shore. "Guess you'd better keep up then hadn't you? The Kayiman looks hungry."
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Tuesday's Tease - The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
“That’s Cooper,” Joshua whispered, crouching lower and signaling Gavin to do the same. They watched as he dumped something on the ground and proceeded to dig. Gavin glanced at Joshua, fear taking his breath, clutching at his heart. They couldn’t be too late. Not this time. Joshua shook his head and motioned for Gavin to follow him into the forest.
Joshua waited until he was sure they were out of hearing distance. He’d read the fear reflected in Gavin’s eyes. “Too large to be Nikki.”
“Who then?”
“Well, since that’s the good Reverend Cooper, I’d say maybe Mrs. Cooper.”
Gavin was horrified at the thought. “You think he killed his wife?”
Joshua shrugged. “Maybe she wasn’t his wife.”
“You know, you’re beginning to freak me out just a little,” Gavin stated. “My psychiatrist would have a field day analyzing you.”
Joshua grinned, placing a toothpick between his teeth. “That’s why they burned Joan of Arc. Just didn’t understand. Let’s go.”
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The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Friday's Fantastics- A little more of Find Me
I think I'm enjoying writing this book more than anything I've tried so far. It has been a challenge. The Voodoo religion, rituals and beliefs have been fascinating, and the more I learn the more my characters become real to me. I can only hope that I carry this forward throughout the book. Comments and critques welcome.
Setup: Catherine is with a Conjure man and his granddaughter. Tonight she will be initiated into the Voodoo religion, which she has discovered was her own religion and that her mother was a conjure woman.
Catherine felt the fear slowly change to anger. "Wait just a minute," she yelled, reaching out to grab Aureole by the arm and whip her around. "So that's why you've been treating me like crap, you blame me for your life?"
Aureole tried to jerk loose, but Catherine held on tight. "At least you had your
grandfather. He and your little community didn't do me any favors when they sent me off with the Mansfields. I didn't have anyone. They treated me like a leper, and that shed your grandfather lives in is a three bedroom ranch compared to the hole they stuck me in. So if anybody has a reason to be mad here it's me. Why didn't they give me back to my mother?"
"I thought they did." Aureole searched her face, seeing the truth. "Everyone told me your mother went away taking you with her."
Catherine shook her head. "I don't think I ever saw my mother again."
"Li se tan."
"Grandpa says it's time."
"Ask him to give us a minute, please."
"Yon minit, papa."
Catherine watched as the old man went back inside the shed. "Tell me what's going to happen now."
"You will drink, and then you will dream. Your dreams will take you to the spirit world. I cannot tell you more. Each journey is different. It would be easier if you were still a child. It is more difficult for them to trap a child."
"So you went through this?"
Aureole nodded. "We were supposed to go through it together. That way I could help you if you needed a translator. Some of the spirits still speak the old language."
"So you're a conjure woman?"
"Not yet. I am still in training. When Grandpa passes I will take his place in the community."
"Aureole, I'm not sure I want to be a conjure woman."
Aureole touched her arm, her eyes filled with sympathy. "We don't get to choose our path. It was chosen for us before we were even born. I'm sorry for what we both have been through. We are blood sisters, remember?" Aureole held up her thumb showing a tiny scar. Catherine lifted her hand, examining her own thumb and the same tiny scar. "You mama was very angry with us because we took the knife." Aureole grinned, her eyes peering into the distance as she remembered. "And because you bled like a stuck pig."
Catherine swiped at the tears. "I don't remember anything. I think that's worse than living with the Mansfields."
Aureole placed an arm around her. "Come, I will stay with you. We will fight your demons together, and then perhaps you will remember."
Catherine walked with her back to the shed. If Aureole spoke the truth then perhaps she would remember. Or perhaps she would die.
Setup: Catherine is with a Conjure man and his granddaughter. Tonight she will be initiated into the Voodoo religion, which she has discovered was her own religion and that her mother was a conjure woman.
Catherine felt the fear slowly change to anger. "Wait just a minute," she yelled, reaching out to grab Aureole by the arm and whip her around. "So that's why you've been treating me like crap, you blame me for your life?"
Aureole tried to jerk loose, but Catherine held on tight. "At least you had your
grandfather. He and your little community didn't do me any favors when they sent me off with the Mansfields. I didn't have anyone. They treated me like a leper, and that shed your grandfather lives in is a three bedroom ranch compared to the hole they stuck me in. So if anybody has a reason to be mad here it's me. Why didn't they give me back to my mother?"
"I thought they did." Aureole searched her face, seeing the truth. "Everyone told me your mother went away taking you with her."
Catherine shook her head. "I don't think I ever saw my mother again."
"Li se tan."
"Grandpa says it's time."
"Ask him to give us a minute, please."
"Yon minit, papa."
Catherine watched as the old man went back inside the shed. "Tell me what's going to happen now."
"You will drink, and then you will dream. Your dreams will take you to the spirit world. I cannot tell you more. Each journey is different. It would be easier if you were still a child. It is more difficult for them to trap a child."
"So you went through this?"
Aureole nodded. "We were supposed to go through it together. That way I could help you if you needed a translator. Some of the spirits still speak the old language."
"So you're a conjure woman?"
"Not yet. I am still in training. When Grandpa passes I will take his place in the community."
"Aureole, I'm not sure I want to be a conjure woman."
Aureole touched her arm, her eyes filled with sympathy. "We don't get to choose our path. It was chosen for us before we were even born. I'm sorry for what we both have been through. We are blood sisters, remember?" Aureole held up her thumb showing a tiny scar. Catherine lifted her hand, examining her own thumb and the same tiny scar. "You mama was very angry with us because we took the knife." Aureole grinned, her eyes peering into the distance as she remembered. "And because you bled like a stuck pig."
Catherine swiped at the tears. "I don't remember anything. I think that's worse than living with the Mansfields."
Aureole placed an arm around her. "Come, I will stay with you. We will fight your demons together, and then perhaps you will remember."
Catherine walked with her back to the shed. If Aureole spoke the truth then perhaps she would remember. Or perhaps she would die.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
SampleSunday - Excerpt From The Gifts
Excerpt from The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
In honor of Valentines Day I decided to post a portion of the romantic parts of my current books. The Gifts is a traditional mystery with a touch of paranormal and just a smidgen of romance.
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“Good morning, Millicent. Miss Nikki.” Clarence Archibald tipped his hat to the ladies.
Millie Crawford frowned as she placed the key in the door. “Humph,” she snorted. Old coot. “Morning, Mr. Archibald,” she answered in her most prim voice.
His laugh carried across the street. “When are you going to call me Clarence? It’s been two months now, and you’re still fighting it. By the way, you look as fresh as my new roses this morning.”
Millie sent him a scathing look as she closed the door. Fresh as his new roses. He was the one that was fresh. Acting like a teen-ager.
“You run on and play, Nikki.”
Millie couldn’t stop herself from lifting the blinds and taking a quick peek to see if he was still there. A slight pang of disappointment filled her when she saw he had already entered the flower shop.
“Flirtatious old coot,” she muttered to herself as she opened the bookstore for business. Always calling me Millicent. She stopped her muttering as she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror behind the counter. The slight flush on her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes belied her age, as did the spring in her walk. The old fool had her feeling like a teenager. Maybe she’d just take a walk over there and see those new roses. He could probably use a good cup of coffee. Might even ask him over for dinner one night. Possibilities. The old coot had definite possibilities.
Humming softly, Millie flipped the sign to “open” and headed to the back of the store to make a fresh pot of coffee.
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Sunday, January 16, 2011
Excerpt from The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
Ignoring the branches that slapped at her face, Sarah raced through the trees, lungs on fire. Somewhere ahead of her a madman had her little girl. She cried out in frustration, as the pain became unbearable. Holding her side, she hunched over trying to catch her breath. How far had she run? A mile? Two? The roaring in her ears drowned out all other sound, as sweat burned her eyes, blinding her. She had to stop. She leaned against a tree for support as she wiped the sweat from her face, slowing her ragged breathing. Dawn was breaking, and she scanned the forest in front of her. She’d broken her own rules, rushing in blindly. She didn’t even know where her own men were. What if she’d shot one of them? What if she’d shot Carl?
The roaring had subsided and she stood listening, straining her ears to catch the slightest whisper or breaking branch. The forest was silent except for her ragged breathing, pounding heart. Where the hell were they? Grief threatened to overcome her. She didn’t know if Juanita and José were dead or alive. The body count was way too high. Five little girls had lost their lives because she’d run away. Closing her eyes, she struggled for control; the image of Gavin kneeling beside his brother flashed before her eyes. She heard his anguished voice, “Find Nikki.” That was all that was important now. She swore softly as she straightened her spine. “No more, Williams. You’re not taking one more person from me.”
“Sheriff!”
“Over here, Matt.”
“We’ve got somebody here.”
Sarah turned toward the sound, moving swiftly, but cautiously this time, her eyes scanning the trees around her. Matt and Jed approached her, carrying a huge black man, cursing and yelling. Blood flowed from the bullet wound in his left leg.
“Put him down.” Holstering her gun, Sarah knelt beside Carl, gently probing the wound. “Looks like the bullet went straight through. I need your belt, Matt.”
Sarah took the belt, fashioned a make-shift tourniquet, and stood up. “Take him to the house. I’m going after Williams.”
“Wasn’t Williams. And you’re too late.” Carl struggled to sit up, grimacing as the movement started a fresh wave of pain.
“What do you mean it wasn’t Williams?”
“Campbell. Bastard had a car parked other side of the woods. Heard him drive off right after he shot me.” Carl fumbled in his pocket for his cigarettes.
Sarah knelt again, her eyes level with Carl’s. “Tell me everything you know about the man who’s got my daughter.”
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Monday, October 11, 2010
October Special - Jacody Ives Mystery Series 99 Cents each
Check out the lastest review:
By Jim Fay - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery (Jacody Ives Mysteries) (Kindle Edition)
I really liked this book. But although this is the first one written about Jacody Ives, there is a recently released a prequel titled "Sacred Secrets." That's the book to start with.
"The Gifts" is a supernatural mystery thriller. I'd like to say I couldn't put it down, but honestly, I don't read that fast and I do need sleep at night and still have to go to work each day. So it took me a few days to read it. But it was a fun ride, and the suspense kept me wanting to know what happened next.
I hope it's not too long before Prather's next book. I'm hooked. Unless something unexpected happens, I will read anything she writes.
The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery
By Jim Fay - See all my reviews
Amazon Verified Purchase(What's this?)
This review is from: The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery (Jacody Ives Mysteries) (Kindle Edition)
I really liked this book. But although this is the first one written about Jacody Ives, there is a recently released a prequel titled "Sacred Secrets." That's the book to start with.
"The Gifts" is a supernatural mystery thriller. I'd like to say I couldn't put it down, but honestly, I don't read that fast and I do need sleep at night and still have to go to work each day. So it took me a few days to read it. But it was a fun ride, and the suspense kept me wanting to know what happened next.
I hope it's not too long before Prather's next book. I'm hooked. Unless something unexpected happens, I will read anything she writes.
The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery
Sacred Secrets, A Jacody Ives Mystery
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