When it comes to a good story, I always start with character. Well, characters. My hero and heroine. If I can see them. Get inside their heads. Then I can’t write their story. Back when I used to do Pern fan fiction, the first thing you had to fill out was the character sheet. If your character was interesting enough then you were accepted to be part of the writing group and the more complete the sheet. the more interesting the character and the more you had to write about. I’ve found this is true now, too.

While I don’t do a formal “persona sheet” anymore, I do still do character sketches so I know my characters’ background. Here are the character sketches I developed for Joe and Mandy, my hero and heroine for Cupid Rocks. I hope you enjoy them!

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Joseph Schwarzerwulf / Joe Blackwolf.

Joe was born February 9, 1973—just turned 40. He plays guitar. He’s 6’1” and 190 lbs.  He has large hands.  Left hand has short nails and calluses on the fingertips. Right hand has long nails and no calluses.

He feels like he’s the family “disappointment” because he went into rock music instead of becoming a classical guitarist.  He legally changed his name to Joseph Blackwolf when he started playing in rock bands at the age of 20.

He is the oldest of three sons born to Leopold and Maria and his brothers are Jacob (opera singer) and Julian (trumpeter).

Joe’s musical influences:  Andres Segovia, Christopher Parkening, Jeff Beck, Jimi Hendrix, Jimmy Page, Eric Clapton, Eddie Van Halen, Yngwie Malmsteen – since joining The Pack he’s discovered blues guitarists due to Eddie Goldwolf’s encouragement.

Joe practices four to six hours daily.  If he can manage it, he practices eight. He’s a disciplined musician who is determined to be technically excellent.  He’s driven to prove that he’s as good a musician as his father even though he doesn’t play classical music.  If he doesn’t have time to practice enough before a gig he can play well but doesn’t feel as “prepared” as he thinks he should be.

When he left home (and college) at twenty to pursue rock music his father gave him a Les Paul sunburst Gibson guitar.  Joe has many guitars but he practices and almost always performs using the LP.  He still has the Hauser acoustic guitar his father gave him when he began playing classical guitar.  When he practices classical music, he’ll pick up the Hauser to practice on.  He also takes the Hauser on stage to play acoustic tunes.

***

Mandy Goldwolf

Mandy was born July 28, 1977 – she’s 35 years old. Mandy is a plus-size female who makes the most of her curves. She knows males love her full breasts and round butt, but she still sometimes worries about her body. She is the only pup of Eddie and Carly Goldwolf and while she knows she is well loved by them both, her childhood wasn’t simple or idyllic.

Her parents, Eddie and Carly, met when they were twenty and eighteen, respectively, and have been together ever since. Their mating wasn’t an easy one, despite the fact that her parents were—and are—True Mates. Eddie resented finding his mate so young because he didn’t get the chance to get wild with females and live out the whole “sex, drugs and rock and roll” dream. Also, Carly’s father looked down his regal nose at Eddie and Eddie responded by going on benders and disappearing for days. When Mandy was ten, Eddie finally chose to dry out. Now, Eddie regrets putting his mate and his daughter through such hell, but Mandy remembers it and it colors her budding relationship with Joe.

Mandy loves music. She was born in The Pack and sang with the band from a very young age. However, when she was eighteen, she had a traumatic performance experience. She participated in a competition and forgot the words to a song, completely freezing on stage. It was so bad that Carly had to come onstage to help her off. From then on, Mandy developed stage fright. It grew worse and worse until she quit performing in public.

Since she could no longer perform, she chose to follow her second love…photography. She shoots portrait work to make money, but loves to do art photography too.

***

Mandy and Joe together

When they meet, the attraction is immediate and fiery. But there are some bumps along the way because Joe still views himself as the black sheep of his family and keenly feels his father’s disapproval. Mandy is still fighting her stage fright and has some baggage about her parents’ history. Joe and Eddie have built a friendship, but Eddie has an almost pathological fear that his daughter will end up with a musician like him and this fear rebounds on Joe, when Mandy’s parent’s find out about the relationship.

Cupid Rocks revolves around the family issues in Mandy and Joe’s life and how they work through their problems to end up strong and together in the happily ever after they deserve.

* * * * *

Here’s the story blurb:

Cupid Rocks

When her parents’ rock band, The Pack, performs at Zach’s bar, Mandy discovers her True Mate, Joe Blackwolf, the band’s lead singer and guitarist. All she has to do now is convince Joe that she told a little white lie to make her mom happy, her father that rock musicians aren’t all alike, and her new mate’s family that rockers aren’t all that different from classical musicians.

Joe Blackwolf is celebrating his 40th birthday. And what he wishes for when he blows out the candles is to find his True Mate. He succeeds when he meets Mandy Goldwolf. Problem is…she belongs to someone else. Finding out the truth leaves him free to explore every inch of her smokin’ hot curves, but now, Joe and Mandy are neck deep in overbearing relatives and everyone is in for a rockin’ Valentine’s Day!

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Excerpt:

By reading any further, you are stating that you are at least 18 years of age. If you are under the age of 18, it is necessary to exit this site.

An Excerpt From: Cupid Rocks

Copyright © FRANCESCA HAWLEY, 2013

All Rights Reserved, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

“Am I dead, Angel? Cause you look like you’re straight from heaven!”

“That has to be the worst line I’ve ever heard,” Mandy laughed, looking up into warm brown eyes. She shivered as he settled into the chair beside her.

“Maybe, but it made you laugh.” He took her hand. “Can I buy you a drink?”

Joe waved over a waiter and ordered for them without once releasing her hand. She could feel the rough calluses guitar playing had created on his fingers, but they turned her on. He turned her on.

This was Joe? “Good ole Joe” as Eddie called him. He was neither good nor old. No. He was gorgeous…and talented. Zach wasn’t kidding when he’d said this Blackwolf was a great guitarist and singer. For the first time since Carly bugged her, she wished with all her might she hadn’t lied about Zach being her mate. Zach might be handsome, but Joe made her throb in places that hadn’t throbbed in all of her thirty-five years.

“So what’s with the camera, Angel? Fan or reporter?”

Mandy looked down at her fingers clenched around her camera strap. If she told him who she was, he’d back off so fast she’d see skid marks on the floor. Just this once, she wanted to pretend she was someone else. Just tonight. She leaned forward pressing her lips against his ear.

“I’m more than a fan. I’m a groupie. Can’t you tell?” He shuddered, turning his head he met her gaze. The fire glowing in his eyes set her boiling. Yes. She had to have him. Now.

“A groupie? For just any rock musician?”

“No, Joe. I want you.”

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, standing so abruptly his chair toppled over. No one nearby noticed as he dragged her to her feet. “Where?”

Mandy looked over toward the hallway leading to Zach’s office and smiled. They had a clear path. She pulled him after her and they ducked into the shadowy space. He pressed her to the wall and took her mouth in a deep kiss. Their mouths meshed together. Joe pulled back to nip at her lips, then ran his tongue along the inside edge of her lower lip. She caught his long dark hair in her fingers, holding his mouth to hers.

Fire. Heat. She’d never felt anything like this in her entire life. She moaned as his mouth slid to nuzzle her neck. Mandy wrapped her free arm around him, clutching his leather jacket. She lifted her right leg along his hip. He stepped into the opening she’d created, thrusting his hips against hers.

She shivered as his rough fingers slid along her leg and under her skirt. He slipped his fingers under her panties and cupped her ass. Grasping her, he pulled her more firmly against his hard cock. He reached up to her peasant top, untying the drawstring to bare her bra covered breast. His hot breath teased her neck and then his warm tongue grazed her skin as he licked his way over her curves

“Hey. Anyone seen Joe?” Mandy and Joe froze as she heard Eddie’s voice. He was close. Too close. She looked out of the entrance of the hall. She didn’t see him, but he was right there. She knew it. Mandy closed her eyes, fighting to keep her panting excitement from giving them away.

“I think I saw him with a hot chick earlier. I didn’t get a good look at her though. Just noticed she was his type.” Tom responded with a laugh.

Joe groaned in her ear, and kissed her cheek. She turned to look up at him. He was still on fire, she could see it but there was a definite question in his dark eyes? Stop or go?

She lowered her leg and he sighed, then she smiled and grabbed his hand. “This way,” she whispered.

Mandy knew there was an empty unlocked office back here and she wanted this wolf and she wanted him now. He chuckled as they moved into the darkness. She found the door on the right and turned the knob. Hearing the click, she pushed, wincing at the creak when the door stuck. He pushed her through and they shut the door behind them. Mandy flipped the light switch, blinking a bit to adjust to the table lamps that came on. She’d been expecting an overhead. They looked at each other and grinned.

Joe pulled her over to the empty desk and she climbed up onto it. He stroked her cheek. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. I don’t want to stop. Not now.”

* * * * *

Released from Ellora’s Cave on February 22, 2013.

* * * * *

Francesca Hawley, author bio

I’m Francesca Hawley and I’m a fat chick. A woman with dangerous curves just like my heroines.

I first began to read romance when I was in my teens. I loved the genre, but the heroines were all thin. Their thighs didn’t rub together…had never rubbed together…and frankly I had trouble relating to these ladies. The stories were great—full of emotion and well told, but the heroines weren’t like me and that was a major disappointment.  I kept wondering where were the fat heroines? I found some occasionally, but to have their Happily Ever After they usually had to lose weight and go from ugly duckling to swan.

Well, I wanted a fat heroine who loved herself—or at least learned to love herself—and a hot alpha hero who liked her jiggly bits just the way they were. Since I didn’t find many big girls to read about, I decided  to write about them myself. After all, I loved to write anyway and had been writing almost as long as I’d been reading, so Francesca Hawley – author of Romance with Dangerous Curves was born.

In a Francesca Hawley romance, my readers will find authentic, sensual, fat heroines who love and are loved by their intense, passionate, and seductive Alpha heroes. I hope you enjoy their dangerous curves just as much as their hunky heroes do.

web site – http://www.francescahawley.com/

blog – http://francescasmindstream.blogspot.com/

facebook – https://www.facebook.com/FrancescaHawley.author

twitter – https://twitter.com/francescahawley

goodreads – http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/608399.Francesca_Hawley

pinterest – http://pinterest.com/francescahawley/

yahoo group -  http://groups.yahoo.com/group/francescahawley/

In the mid-1800s, people needed determination and patience to travel from one side of the country to the other. Stagecoaches ran on a weekly or bi-weekly schedule. A trip from St Louis to San Francisco involved about 25 days of travel. The coaches were drawn by six horses and stops were made every 12 miles for fresh teams. Depending on the terrain, coaches covered between 5 and 12 miles per day—running day and night. Passengers were grateful to get hot coffee, biscuits and jerky at these stops; on rare occasions, hot meals were available.

True, the Transcontinental Railroad was completed in the summer of 1869 but that line served a route of the most-populous cities. How was someone, like my character Ciara Morrissey raised on the East Coast, to travel to an out-of-the-way location like Bull City, in northern Wyoming Territory? The Union Pacific Railroad ran through southern Wyoming and from Cheyenne a small-sized coach, most likely a Concord coach (built with sturdy braces for a more comfortable ride), ran a north/south route.

The suggested items to travel with would have filled a large satchel or three. In addition to their clothing, passengers were admonished to pack 6 pair of thick socks, woolen underdrawers, blankets—one in summer and two in winter, 3-4 towels, heavy overcoat, light coat, hat and their choice of pistol or knife for personal protection. Imagine being a well-bred lady from an upstanding Massachusetts family reading that list.

Once she got inside the stagecoach, she would have had her choice of window or middle position (approximately 15” in width) on either a forward or backward-facing bench seat. As she set out on her journey, she could read the rules about men forgoing swearing and smoking in a lady’s presence, but tobacco chewing was allowed, as long as the chewer spat downwind. I would hope so. Or if the person (presumed to be a male) couldn’t refrain from drinking alcohol, then he must pass the bottle around. Yum. Snoring loudly or using another passenger’s shoulder as a pillow were frowned upon. Improper advances toward a woman could get the male kicked off the stagecoach in the middle of nowhere. Forbidden topics of conversation were stagecoach robberies and Indian uprisings. Sounds like a smart rule. Shooting at wildlife (Wyoming had a huge population of pronghorn antelope) was prohibited. Passengers were encouraged not to jump from the stage in case of runaway horses so as not to be left victim to the weather, hostile Indians or hungry coyotes.

Like I mentioned, Ciara had a purpose and she looked at all these strictures as part of her great adventure. She’d made a deathbed promise to her mother to seek out the father she didn’t remember, and Bull City was his last known location. Not only does she have the “excitement” of the trip, her stage is attacked, a passenger dragged out and the driver shot. She arrives at her destination, hands locked tight around the leather reins. That’s the first time Sheriff Quinn Riley sees her and the story of Dreams of Gold begins.

Dreams of Gold is available now only on Kindle. http://amzn.to/VcKxbp

To be released from The Wild Rose Press, Nook, Kobo, ipad on May 1, 2013

More information on Linda Carroll-Bradd can be found at www.lindacarroll-bradd.com, http://blog.lindacarroll-bradd.com, Twitter www.twitter.com/lcarrollbradd, and Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/pages/Linda-Carroll-Bradd-author/44081494263528

I’ve had a great affection for all things English since I could remember.  I think that is one of the reasons I decided to write historical romance set in Regency England.  In 2010, I was fortunate enough to travel to England and explore the southern part of the country.  What a great adventure!  We visited tiny villages with thatched roof cottages to the bustling grand city, London.

So I got another opportunity to visit again last November.  We explored the northern part of England, Wales, and Scotland.  From Manchester, Chester, Liverpool, York, to tiny towns in Wales I could not possibly pronounce (I have my doubts the Welsh can even pronounce them,) the landscape was breathtaking!  Even the weather cooperated for November.  In fact, it was downright warm at times.  Must have brought a little Texas sunshine to them.  Maybe I should charge for that?  And then we went to Edinburgh.  Holyrood Palace is something to behold!  Finally, we wrapped things up in Paris.  The city was lovely, the people were gracious, and the wine was outstanding!  Can’t wait to go back.

Stay tuned for my next grand adventure.  I already have something in mind…

~Tiffany

www.tiffanygreen.net

Among the questionable pleasures of family life are the moments when one must deal with the detritus of either aging or late relatives. My children and I have had first hand experience with far too many of those moments this year. Most recently, after moving my parents–who are in their nineties–into a retirement home, we found ourselves with stacks of fading photographs, most of which were unidentified.  As I looked over the faded images, I felt both exasperated and amused. Someone had gone to so much trouble to pose, photograph, and save those moments in family life when the brothers, sisters, cousins, grandparents were briefly all together. And they are precious. In the mix are glimpses into life long past and faces to go with names that are now only ‘remember when’ legends. That dashing cowboy roping a steer–that’s Uncle Francis who worked on the XIT. I never knew him, but I know this is his picture because I remember Granddaddy told me about him. Wish somebody had written a note on the picture that said where it was taken and when.

Set to one side is a studio portrait of a lovely young girl, all in white lace, with a wide brimmed hat and a cat in her lap. I’m just about the oldest of the family now, so there’s no one to tell me who she was and what the occasion was for the portrait. She has dark hair and beautiful eyes. She looks like someone I’d like to know, but no one left a clue to her identity.

Tucked together in an old envelope marked 1928 I find a collection of family pictures all made at the same time on the front porch of a farm house. I suspect even the tiny baby the young mother in the porch swing is holding may well have passed on by now. It’s been more than eighty years if the date on the envelope is correct. Who was this family? Three generations stopped their visiting and working and playing together long enough to let the camera record six different shots of the event. Wish I knew what family it was. Were they related to me? Are the parents of one of my grandparents  sitting in that long ago afternoon surrounded by children now grown old or gone altogether? Can I see a family resemblance to my children and grandchildren? I think so but it may be wishful thinking.

After hours of sorting and comparing the curling and brittle pictures, I take a stack to my mother who probably has a better memory than I do and maybe recalls the people in them. Some she can put names to, but many came to her from my grandmother. “Why,” I ask, “didn’t somebody identify these folks? Put names and dates on these pictures?” Mom smiles, in her perfectly sensible way and tells me, “We didn’t need to, then. We knew who they were.”

Hours later, recounting this story to a friend, I realize that I, too, have stacks of photos from my school years, from the early years of my marriage, from adventures and visits, that I’ve never identified, because I KNOW who those people are. But one day my children and grandchildren will be doing what I am now. They’ll be looking at fading snapshots and curling, brittle pictures and saying, “Well, I think that’s Uncle Mike; he was the career army man. And this could be Aunt Joy’; she was the one who lived in the funky house.” I’d like my precious memories to pass on to my offspring of however many generations may come. I think I’ll invest in some albums and spend some time putting names and dates on those pictures.  Who knows, I might find material for another book in some of those old prints. At least I can make sure the kids can put faces to the family legends and keep some of the history alive.

Fleeta Cunningham

DON’T CALL ME DARLIN’

BLACK RAIN RISING

ELOPEMENT FOR ONE

HALF PAST MOURNING

CRY AGAINST THE WIND (Forthcoming)

When I went to England a couple of years ago, I learned some very interesting facts.  To the average person, they may seem small and insignificant, but to a writer and lover of everything English, I gobbled them up, eager to use them in my books.

Here are a few things I learned:

• Colonel Thomas De Veil started the Bow Street Magistrates Court in 1740 from his home, opposite the Royal Opera House.  It was Henry Fielding, the novelist who sat on the bench at the court, who actually came up with the Bow Street Runners idea, formed in 1754 by his brother John, which became the first paid police force.
• Sir Robert Peel formed the Metropolitan Police in 1829, who were called “Bobbies” in his honor, and Bow Street became the first police station in Britain.  This station is the only police station in London to have a white light instead of a blue light outside because when Queen Victoria would attend the Royal Opera House across the street, the blue light would remind her of the blue room in which Prince Albert died.
• The oldest printing and publishing house in the world is the Cambridge University Press; the oldest bookstore in the world is also located there, established in 1581.
• The first botanical gardens began in Oxford in 1621.
• The Savoy Theater was London’s first public building to be lit by electricity.
• Champagne was actually invented by an English doctor, Christopher Merrett of Gloucestershire, in 1662.  In 1695, a French monk, who also happened to be a winemaker in the Champagne region, Dom Perignon, adopted the process.
• George III purchased Buckingham Palace in 1762 from John Sheffield, the first Duke of Buckingham, who built it in 1703.

Have you any interesting English facts you’d like to share?

~Tiffany

www.tiffanygreen.net

I’m the type of person who has to have the perfect working conditions in order to write.  I wish this were not so.  I wish I could write anywhere, at any time, and under any conditions.  I wish I could sit for five minutes at a bus stop and come up with something fabulous.  This is simply impossible for me.  I need long blocks of time to get in my characters’ heads, and I need quiet.

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Some time ago, I realized I had to get away from a ringing phone, seeing dirty dishes in the sink, a barking dog, and a husband who still could not remember how to use the fax machine.  In other words, I had to have my own writer’s paradise.

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After coming to this realization, I started planning.  What did I want? What could I afford?  What could I envision using as a special place to plot?  And that’s when it hit me.  Whenever I’ve gone to conference or on vacation, I’ve done some excellent plotting in a hot tub.  Relaxing in the warm, churning water with a glass of wine could unlock ideas, get the creative juices flowing, and had characters chattering like nothing else.  Eureka!  I got my answer and created a special place to write in my back yard.

>

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I must say, it works pretty well.

How about you?  Do you have a special place to read or write?

~Tiffany

www.tiffanygreen.net

Hello Authors By Moonlight! Thanks to Linda LaRoque for inviting me to Guest Post today.  She and I are kindred spirits in writing historical fiction/romance, and enjoying the research that enhances our stories.  She previously blogged about The Joy of Research and I’d like to continue on that theme.

I decided to write my “Welsh-tern”–a Western about three immigrant brothers from Wales in the Arizona Territory–to share the beauty of Arizona with folks who had never been here and different cultures with Arizonans who were unaware of local history. Hours in the Arizona Historical Society Research Library on the campus of the University of Arizona (whew, say that five times fast!) yielded a mother lode of facts, but to take my readers into my characters’ lives, I had to show where they came from and go where they had their adventures.

Book One of my Dragon & Hawk trilogy begins in the mining camps of Bisbee and moves to wild and bawdy Tombstone. Touring Bisbee’s Queen Mine multiple times gave me a real appreciation for how dangerous mining operations were (still are, actually). And visiting Wales let me listen to how Welshmen speak English in a musical cadence with a Welsh sentence structure. When I learned how miners were specifically recruited from the coal mines of Wales to dig out the copper mines of Bisbee, I knew I had to tell the story of how Evan Jones found love in a new land with a Mexican mystic who was nothing like the girls back home.

Book Two, Out of Forgotten Ashes continues in Tombstone and Tucson as well as the booming port of San Diego. The Historical Society of San Diego was a treasure trove of information; for instance, it was much faster to take a boat than a carriage from what was called New Town (and is now downtown San Diego) to small communities on Point Loma. Having maps of what had been compared with what is there now was very handy. This orate archway from what would have been Roseville inspired a rendezvous scene between Evan and a woman from his past, only one of the phoenixes that rise from forgotten ashes to threaten to destroy everything he holds dear.

My latest release is Book Three, Dragon’s Legacy, which takes place in 1904 Tucson. Bigotry rears its ugly head as more people arrive from the East with prejudices the half-Welsh/ half-Mexican generation of Joneses must face on an increasing basis. This story explores how two young men vie for the attentions of a beautiful but manipulative woman, unaware of their rivalry–and their connection in a web of deceit that could shatter the Jones clan completely. 

I was surprised to find a high level of racial tolerance in Tucson prior to 1900. Even though officially interracial marriages were illegal, many white men married Native or Mexican women. A real rarity was the acceptance of a black man and white woman as a married couple in 1868, but there they were in the county records. They obtained a mortgage, owned two businesses, and their daughter went on to run a boarding house at one of the stagecoach stops. But around the turn of the twentieth century, more white women came to the Territory, bringing their strict Victorian opinions of what was socially acceptable and what wasn’t.  While Tucson remained more tolerant of non-whites than the outlying mining towns, miscegenation laws were enforced more regularly and outright discrimination grew more frequent.

I visited houses still standing from those days, from the Territorial style house of a real Welsh-born civic leader (with more than one unsavory secret) to the hacienda layout of an Art Deco style mansion built by the owner of the town’s first department store. [insert photo 3] Walking where my characters would enlivens the process for me, makes me feel as though I am actually in the action, and I hope my readers can feel that as well.

To read an excerpt from each book, visit my website.

The Dragon & Hawk Trilogy is published by and available from Champagne Books.

Jude Johnson has been a history enthusiast since childhood and has lectured about her historical research at the Sierra Vista Historical Society, the Welsh League of Arizona, and the West Coast Eisteddfod in Los Angeles. She is a member of Gecko Gals Ink, LLC, a group of “sassy Tucson authors” who encourage other writers to become published by holding writing seminars and classes. While she has no Welsh heritage in her lineage, she has studied Cymraeg—the Welsh Language—and learned just enough to be dangerous in Cardiff pubs. She also speaks bad border Spanish that gets better with cerveza.

She lives in Tucson, Arizona.

Website: http://jude-johnson.com

Blogs: wordsthatremain.blogspot.com

thewritersvineyard.blogspot.com

geckogalsink.blogspot.com

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/JudeJohnsonAZ

Twitter: @JudeJohnsonAZ

Photo credits:

Photo 1: SD Archway, Jude Johnson

Photo 2: Hughes House, Jude Johnson

Photo 3: Steinfeld Mansion, Jude Johnson

Book Cover, Dragon’s Legacy , artwork by Amanda Kelsey

I love research. It opens doors in my mind and is often a source of ideas. When I browse the pages of books and web articles or scan websites, surprise plot twists evolve. Not always, but when they do, they’re a real bonus.

  While researching Chaco Canyon of New Mexico, the setting for Flames on the Sky, and the pueblo Indians in the area, I ran across the word nukpanas, which means evil spirits. What a perfect name for the evil spirit that plans to destroy the ancient artifacts of Chaco Canyon. Further research allowed me to create a villain I could be proud of, one I hope my readers love to hate.

Though I have several books on the pueblos in New Mexico, the majority of my research data came from websites, in particular The New Mexico Parks Service and Government Archives. The Anasazi of 1000 A.D. held a monopoly on the turquoise trade so I spent a lot of time researching where they might have obtained their turquoise. I strove to make all aspects of the story—the Native American people, their language, dress, and etc. as accurate as possible.

The remains of Una Vida below.

Flames on the Sky is the second book of The Turquoise Legacy. In the first, My Heart Will Find Yours, I used the ancient piece of turquoise in Texanna’s locket, ley lines and spin torsion fields to initiate time travel. In the second story, I use those phenomena again but added the vortex to the mix. Until I started writing time travels, I never knew of these natural occurrences. Now, I can’t say they can actually cause time travel, but hey, that’s what imaginations are for.

Here is the link for the book trailer for My Heart Will Find Yours on U-tube.

The book trailer for Flames on the Sky won Most Artistic Trailer for June 2010 from The NEW Covey Trail Awards. Click on the book title to go to U-tube.

Both books are available in both ebook and print formats. You can purchase a copy at Amazon.com, The Wild Rose Press, Fictionwise.com and other online book stores.

Thanks for reading!

Linda

A hundred years before Julia Child, there was Mrs. Beeton.  As the writer of Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, she developed menus ranging from simple meals to formal dinners, most often prepared in basement kitchens with not a single electric appliance. And after all the time I spend reading up on Victorian homes and menus, I give thanks every day for my gas stove and oven, my microwave, and my fridge. I can’t help wonder what Isabella Beeton would make of a modern kitchen.

Some of her recipes, like the Julienne soup below, sound appetizing (but then I like turnips). Her recipe for leek soup, on the other hand, lost me at the mention of “a whole sheep’s head”. I’ll stick with Julia Child’s or my mother-in-law’s versions!

Some of the recipes she lists sound familiar to modern ears, like Lamb Cutlets. But in Mrs. Beeton’s day, they were a lot more labor intensive:

Cut the cutlets from a neck of lamb, and shape them by cutting off the thick part of the chine-bone. Trim off most of the fat and all the skin, and scrape the top part of the bones quite clean. Brush the cutlets over with egg, sprinkle them with bread crumbs, and season with pepper and salt. Now dip them into clarified butter, sprinkle over a few more bread crumbs, and fry them over a sharp fire, turning them when required. Lay them before the fire to drain, and arrange them on a dish…

A Victorian Bottle-Jack

My local butcher would make a lot of money off me for cutting and skinning the meat before delivery!

Roasts in general were a complicated affair, as the meat had to cook on a bottle-jack in front of an open fire that had to be watched constantly. The small cylinder above the hook housed a mechanism that the cook could set to automatically turn the roast, while the drippings ran out of the hole at the bottom into a pan that would be placed in the rack below. Beef drippings are the finishing touch to Yorkshire pudding; made of milk, flour, eggs and salt, and baked in the small ovens of the day, it was a favorite accompaniment to roasts.

Perhaps that explains the number of wine recipes she listed: Cowslip wine, elder wine, ginger wine, effervescing gooseberry wine (I will stick to champagne), lemon wine, malt wine, rhubarb wine and orange brandy, which is described simply as ”excellent”.

After reading about Boiled Beef,

Take from 12 to 16 lbs., after it has been in salt about 10 days; just wash off the salt, skewer it up in a nice round-looking form, and bind it with tape to keep the skewers in their places. Put it in a saucepan of boiling water, as in the preceding recipe, set it upon a good fire, and when it begins to boil, carefully remove all scum from the surface, as, if this is not attended to, it sinks on to the meat, and when brought to table, presents a very unsightly appearance. ..

…I think I’m ready for that orange brandy.

I leave you with one of Mrs. Beeton’s soup recipes. Has anyone else found a really old recipe they’ve wanted to try? How did it turn out?

Till next time,

Ann Stephens

Soup A la Julienne (Mrs. Beeton’s Book of Household Management, 1861)

INGREDIENTS – 1/2 pint of carrots, 1/2 pint of turnips, 1/4 pint of onions, 2 or 3 leeks, 1/2 head of celery, 1 lettuce, a little sorrel and chervil, if liked, 2 oz. of butter, 2 quarts of stock

Mode.—Cut the vegetables into strips of about 1–1/4 inch long, and be particular they are all the same size, or some will be hard whilst the others will be done to a pulp. Cut the lettuce, sorrel, and chervil into larger pieces; fry the carrots in the butter, and pour the stock boiling to them. When this is done, add all the other vegetables, and herbs, and stew gently for at least an hour. Skim off all the fat, pour the soup over thin slices of bread, cut round about the size of a shilling, and serve.

Time.—1–1/2 hour. Average cost, 1s. 3d. per quart.

Seasonable all the year.

Sufficient for 8 persons.

Note.—In summer, green peas, asparagus-tops, French beans, &c. can be added. When the vegetables are very strong, instead of frying them in butter at first, they should be blanched, and afterwards simmered in the stock.

Okay, you caught me. Newfoundland isn’t technically my home, at least not originally. I was born in Pointe Claire (Montreal, Quebec) and grew up in rural Glengarry County (Eastern Ontario). I adore the country and can’t imagine living in a big city. The biggest I’ve lived in — Iqaluit, Nunavut (population: 11,000). But my country-girl heart has thoroughly attached itself to Newfoundland. More specifically, Gros Morne Park.

My boyfriend is Newfoundland born and bred. Even if he might have left home for a while for work purposes, his heart still resides in this beautiful province. And I can’t blame him at all. From the first time he brought me to visit, I was hooked. The beauty, the simplicity, yes even the moose. It all combines into one breathtaking place.

Now I’m on my way back for a bit of a vacation. Since my words obviously aren’t doing it justice, let me show you a few pictures from my last visit. I tend to take pictures of landscape as opposed to people (much to my mother’s consternation) but looking at these will I hope transport you halfway there. To feel the salt breeze in your hair, listen to the quiet cacophony of the country, or even be charmed by the friendly people, you’ll have to make the journey yourself. If you’re going to book your stay, I recommend the Gros Morne resort, which is right in the middle of St. Paul’s, a small little town right in the middle of the park. I can vouch for their baked goods — delicious!

Happy May, everyone!

L. K. Below

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