Everyone Should Do This

Okay, so yesterday I was walking up Swan Street in Buffalo being glad that it’s not cold. The wind really whistles up Swan Street, and I’ll likely be freezing my ass off in a month. The sun was out. I didn’t even have my new coat zipped. It was pretty sweet! And all of the sudden three thought bubbles popped into my head.

1. I’m writing a book.
2. I’m writing it slowly.
3. I’m happy.

Now, mind you, I was walking into a night teaching Introduction to Pastry Arts, and I was happy. That’s a victory in itself because I usually teach the slightly seasoned students, and we just aren’t there yet. But to be happy with maybe writing a few dozen words today? To have tinkered with a paragraph? And being cheerful? Unheard of in my previous incarnation. YAY! *ass shake* *confetti* PROGRESS!

Or my glee could have been residual delight leftover from lunch, I suppose. I made myself a pita pizza because I love cheese and carbs. Then I remembered I should really be eating salad because I tasted twenty-six pieces of pie last week in class. Really, it was a lot of pie. Apple and cream pies, G*d help me. So I took a pair of kitchen scissors and I chopped up my pita pizza and tossed it with romaine, balsamic vinaigrette, and feta cheese. OMG. It was like a pizza piadina but lazy. Or panzanella but warmer. Or fattoush but Italian! It was HEAVEN! Which is why everyone who grooves on carbs, cheese, and greens should make one. It was so good that I made another one the next day for my neighborhood BFF Melissa. I was all, “I’m sure people do this all the time, but I feel like a fucking genius! We have leftover pizza in the fridge all the time. It’s like croutons, but softer, and with CHEESE!” Melissa is very tapped in to the food blogs, and she hasn’t seen it so GUYS! MAKE THIS. And let’s call it… PIZZA-NELLA!

Lettuce. Warm, chopped up pizza. Salad dressing. FREAKING AWESOME.

And…things didn’t go so well in the kitchen tonight. BLARG. “Mistakes are excellent teachers” is all well and good. TRULY. But now we won’t have time in the production schedule to make BAGELS. *sob*

*deep breath*

We will make bagels once we can make a simpler dough. *nods* The process is as important as the product. Right?

So what’s the next best recipe you plan to make? Has something tickled your pickle? HAVE YOU EVER CHOPPED UP PIZZA ON A SALAD? Tell me something good! I’m hungry. 🙂

 

 

Damn good fruitcake!

SEDUCING THE PLAYBOY is being featured as the Christmas Steal at Entangled today.  Tell all your friends, okay? 🙂

I’ve been planning on posting this recipe even though it’s a little late for fruitcake baking. However, if you still have some baking left in you, and you want to tackle a big, yummy, heavenly, totally-worth-it labor of love…make my fruitcake. I guess if you make it, it will be your fruitcake, but I’ve been baking these for so many years now I kind of feel possessive of them. In a good way. Such a good way!

It started because my father has everything, and I could never figure out what to get him for Christmas or his New Year’s Eve birthday. We share a love of books–for example, he introduced me to both Tolkien and the Outlander series–but every time I bought him a book, I struck out. I can’t even remember how many different books I bought him, and then quietly stole out of the basement the next year. But I struck gift gold with fruitcake.

Fruitcake lovers are a unique breed. Maybe you have to be brought up with it, as my father was. His mother’s fruitcake is, of course, the best. I will never top it. Unfortunately, she passed away a good twenty years ago. I named my daughter after her, so her name lives on lives on. Unfortunately, her fruitcake recipe does not.  Many years ago, I found an old-timey recipe in Richard Sax’s book CLASSIC HOME DESSERTS, and gave it a shot. My father loved it! And I’ve made fruitcake every year since. A labor of love, indeed! This fruitcake is Christmas to me. It’s the intoxicating smell of warm, buttery dried fruit soaked in brandy. It’s the search for the perfect gift for someone I love.

I’ve tweaked Mr. Sax’s recipe a bit because I like more fruit, less lemon, less time in the oven, less cheesecloth. Oh, fine, I’ve tweaked it until it’s nearly unrecognizable to anyone but me! However, I mention the book because I love it, and you might love it, too. A last-minute Amazon Prime gift for the home baker on your list? If your holiday baking is done, keep this recipe on tap for next year. It’s a delicious, delightful, holiday tradition in-the-making!

Grandpa Baker’s Holiday Fruitcake

(makes seven mini-loaf pans or two regular-size loaf pans)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 pound unsalted butter, softened

2 1/4 cups sugar

6 large eggs, separated

I separate my eggs with my hands. Less chance of breaking yolk on the edge of the shell. Egg whites won’t whip up with any kind of fat in the bowl, so be careful!

1 Tablespoon vanilla

1/2 pound golden raisins

1/2 pound dried cranberries

1/2 pound prunes, cut into pieces the size of raisins

1/2 pound dried apricots, cut into pieces the size of raisins

1/2 cup crystallized ginger, diced into tiny pieces

Use any kind of dried fruit that suits your fancy. I like a variety of colors!

1 pound walnuts, chopped

pinch of salt

2 cups brandy, as needed

1.Preheat oven to 235

2. Line pans with parchment so that the ends overhang the long sides of the pan. Then cut a strip to line the short sides. I’ve discovered it likes to stick to the pan, and lining both sides makes it MUCH easier to get it out without cracking the top. Spray lightly with pan release.

I spent a lot of years lining them like this before I discovered lining both sides works better.

MUCH BETTER.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. Toss 1/2 cup of the flour with cut-up dried fruit.

I’ve heard tossing it with flour will keep your fruit from sinking in the batter.

4. Sift remaining 1 1/2 cups of flour with the baking powder. Set aside.

5. Cream the butter and sugar on medium-high until pale, light, and fluffy. Beat in the egg yolks one at a time. Then beat in the vanilla.

Pale, light, and fluffy!

6. Lower the speed to slow and beat in sifted flour mixture. Mix only until flour disappears.

7. Add dried fruit mixture. Combine.

8. Add walnuts. Combine.

Abort! Abort! (Not really.)

9. At this point, I exceed the capacity of my Heavy Duty Kitchen-Aid mixer and have to transfer the very thick batter to a bigger bowl.

It’s all good now. Gotta have some room to work.

10. Wash your mixing bowl well to eliminate all traces of butter fat, and then whip the egg whites with the salt until they hold a nice shape/medium peaks/just past soft peaks. Do not beat them until they are stiff. If they are stiff, it’s hard to fold them into the batter.

This will work.

So will this.

11. Fold 1/3 of the egg whites into the batter. Then fold the rest of the egg whites into the batter. The first time I did this, I was very skeptical. The batter is super thick, and whipped egg whites are…not. However, once you get everything combined, the batter becomes a little more friendly and manageable. The egg whites make it nicer, I promise!

12. Divide the batter among 7 mini loaf pans or two regular loaf pans. Or any permutation of pan you desire, although I would not pick an intricately designed pan. As I said, it likes to stick.

13. Bake for about 3 hours at 335. Seriously. They take forever, and your house will smell amazing. Mostly I judge by color. I take them out of the over, stare at them, and wonder if they are done yet. Then I make my husband look at them, and I ask, “Do they look done?” Mostly he says “Yes,” and follows up with, “Can I eat one now?” I poke them a few times, and if they feel firm, I declare them done.

Done looks something like this.

14. Cool in the pans for 15 minutes, and then ease them out using the overhanging edges of parchment. Cool completely.

15. Baste them with brandy. My father insists I wrap his in cheesecloth and baste it a few more times through the cheesecloth over a period of weeks, so I do that for him. For the rest of the legion of fruitcakes, I put them in individual Ziploc bags and baste them a few times without the cheesecloth. Does the cheesecloth make a difference? Probably. Dad says it’s slimy without it. I disagree but am willing to humor him!

16. Store them in the refrigerator and baste them with brandy once a week for a couple weeks.

17. I highly recommend eating one while it’s warm. 🙂 I always give the kids a warm one before I baste it with brandy. Especially this year’s brandy…

The secret ingredient in my fruitcake.

Merry Christmas and Happy Fruitcake!

Just the facts, ma’am straight-up recipe no pictures version:

 

Grandpa Baker’s Holiday Fruitcake

(makes seven mini-loaf pans or two regular-size loaf pans)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1 pound unsalted butter, softened

2 1/4 cups sugar

6 large eggs, separated

1 Tablespoon vanilla

1/2 pound golden raisins

1/2 pound dried cranberries

1/2 pound prunes, cut into pieces the size of raisins

1/2 pound dried apricots, cut into pieces the size of raisins

1/2 cup crystallized ginger, diced into tiny pieces

1 pound walnuts, chopped

pinch of salt

2 cups brandy, as needed

1.Preheat oven to 235

2. Line pans with parchment so that the ends overhang the long sides of the pan. Then cut a strip to line the short sides. I’ve discovered it likes to stick to the pan, and lining both sides makes it MUCH easier to get it out without cracking the top. Spray lightly with pan release.

3. Toss 1/2 cup of the flour with cut-up dried fruit.

4. Sift remaining 1 1/2 cups of flour with the baking powder. Set aside.

5. Cream the butter and sugar on medium-high until pale, light, and fluffy. Beat in the egg yolks one at a time. Then beat in the vanilla.

6. Lower the speed to slow and beat in sifted flour mixture. Mix only until flour disappears.

7. Add dried fruit mixture. Combine.

8. Add walnuts. Combine.

9. At this point, I exceed the capacity of my Heavy Duty Kitchen-Aid mixer and have to transfer the very thick batter to a bigger bowl.

10. Wash your mixing bowl well to eliminate all traces of butter fat, and then whip the egg whites with the salt until they hold a nice shape/medium peaks/just past soft peaks. Do not beat them until they are stiff. If they are stiff, it’s hard to fold them into the batter.

11. Fold 1/3 of the egg whites into the batter. Then fold the rest of the egg whites into the batter. The first time I did this, I was very skeptical. The batter is super thick, and whipped egg whites are…not. However, once you get everything combined, the batter becomes a little more friendly and manageable. The egg whites make it nicer, I promise!

12. Divide the batter among 7 mini loaf pans or two regular loaf pans. Or any permutation of pan you desire, although I would not pick an intricately designed pan. As I said, it likes to stick.

13. Bake for about 3 hours at 335. Seriously. They take forever, and your house will smell amazing. Mostly I judge by color. I take them out of the over, stare at them, and wonder if they are done yet. Then I make my husband look at them, and I ask, “Do they look done?” Mostly he says “Yes,” and follows up with, “Can I eat one now?” I poke them a few times, and if they feel firm, I declare them done.

14. Cool in the pans for 15 minutes, and then ease them out using the overhanging edges of parchment. Cool completely.

15. Baste them with brandy. My father insists I wrap his in cheesecloth and baste it a few more times through the cheesecloth over a period of weeks, so I do that for him. For the rest of the legion of fruitcakes, I put them in individual Ziploc bags and baste them a few times without the cheesecloth. Does the cheesecloth make a difference? Probably. Dad says it’s slimy without it. I disagree but am willing to humor him!

16. Store them in the refrigerator and baste them with brandy once a week for a couple weeks.

17. I highly recommend eating one while it’s warm. 🙂 I always give the kids a warm one before I baste it with brandy. Especially this year’s brandy…

 

It isn’t Christmas without…

Visit Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews for the recipe for this Very Merry Cranberry Cocktail!

BOOZE! To find out why, go here. 🙂 I’m visiting Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews today because my friend Sharon asked me to write a little something about my holiday traditions. Since I’m a Protestant who went to Catholic school and then married a Jew, things get wild and wooly around the holidays. Mostly because of all the fruitcakes I make, but that’s not the recipe I’m sharing today. That one’s next.

Four layers of Ultimate White Cake filled with whole cranberry filling, frosted with vanilla bean buttercream, and garnished with sugared cranberries and a white chocolate bow!

But first, please visit Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews for my Very Merry Cranberry Cocktail! I honestly can’t remember which came first, the desire to create a cocktail for the Guilty Pleasures blog or the need to come up with a new cake for the patisserie case at Wegmans, but I killed two birds with one stone with those gorgeous sugared cranberries. Three, if you count the fact that they make a great snack. I even put them in my daughter’s lunch and labeled them “magic berries.” They are seriously yummy. Sweet on the outside and tart on the inside. (Anyone else identify with that description? The next time I have to describe myself I’ll say: I’m a string of sugared cranberries perched on the rim of a martini. Sounds about right these days. Ha!)

Moravian Sugar Cake

In my Guilty Pleasures post, I mentioned that it isn’t Christmas without Moravian Sugar Cakes. I first shared the recipe on Stella Ex-Libris’s blog a few years ago, the real from-scratch-with-mashed-potatoes-to-keep-it-moist recipe. However…I always cheat. So did my mom. And my grandmother, who actually WAS a Moravian. (As I understand it, the Moravians were a small sect that split off from Catholicism before the Protestant Reformation. They settled in Winston Salem, NC, and, mysteriously, Hope, IN, which is where my grandmother lived.)

Back to the cheating…

I use Pillsbury Hot Roll Mix! It’s super-easy, especially if you have a mixer. (The dough is kind of sticky.) Follow the directions on the box. If you want round sugar cakes, divide it between two 8″ or 9″ round pans. Proof it. Poke it. Top it with melted butter and cinnamon sugar (the more the merrier!). Then bake it! Your house will smell cinna-mazing! The cinnamon sugar collects in the dimples in the dough, and when you pour melted butter over it, it makes a salty-sweet cinnamon goo that is THE BEST THING EVER.

For those of you who appreciate a bit more technicality in your recipes, here you go:

Moravian Sugar Cake (Pillsbury-style)

(makes 1 13X9 pan or two 8″ or 9″ pans)

The Cake:

One box Pillsbury Hot Roll Mix

The Topping:

1 cup packed brown sugar

1 Tablespoon cinnamon

½ cup (one stick) butter, melted (I use salted.)

The Method:

Follow the directions on the box all the way through step 4.

5. Place the dough in a buttered bowl, turn to coat with butter, and cover. Let rise until doubled, about 1 hour.

6. Butter your baking pans. Divide the dough into two pieces if you are making rounds. Keep it in one if you are making a 13X9 pan. Lay it in the pan(s) and encourage it to cover the bottom(s). Cover and let rise for 30 minutes. Meanwhile, combine the brown sugar and cinnamon for the topping.

7. Melt the butter for the topping. Then dimple the dough with your fingers to create deep pockets. Spread the brown sugar and cinnamon topping over the top of each cake, then drizzle the melted butter over the topping. As it bakes, the butter and sugar will sink into the pockets, creating deliciousness!

The Drizzling!

The Dimpling!

8. Bake at 350 for 25-30 minutes, until it begins to get brown around any tiny edge that might not be covered by the topping. I tend to overbake them, and then complain about it, so watch them carefully. If your pans are shallow, place something beneath them to catch the drips. These cakes love to rise, and the topping might need somewhere to go.

9. Cool briefly and serve warm. Mmmm…Christmas!

The Eating!

Do you have a favorite Christmas/Holiday thing? What is it? Please share so we can all be sentimental with you! Speaking of sharing, thanks to all of you who shared perspective, experiences, and encouragement after my Not failure. Not the death of  dream blog. I’m not alone! Neither are you. We will get through this grown-up-life-thing together with kindness to ourselves and each other and with as much grace as we can muster. When grace isn’t possible, we will forgive ourselves for showing our butts and celebrate getting through it. Period.

It’s not too late to get in on the candy giveaway if you have something you’d like to share. 🙂

Happy Monday! Happy drinking, baking, and eating! I love you guys. ❤

 

Impulse Control Margarita

I’m on the road to Lori Foster’s Reader & Author Get Together! Since I put this picture on some of my swag, I figured I’d better get the recipe up. Thank goodness for my iPhone hotspot! The number of things on my to-do list multiplied all week as I packed for the con, and I THINK this is the last thing to check off. If it didn’t get done, it’s not getting done until I get home! (And if you are anywhere near Cincinnati, come see me! I’ll be signing books on Friday 6/5, From 3-5 pm!

In my latest release, IMPULSE CONTROL, the heroine mixes up a homemade margarita for her BFF. I LOVE margaritas, but I don’t love the jaw-stinging sweet and sour mix from a bottle. I think half the reason I put a margarita in the book was so that I’d be forced to come up with a recipe for homemade sour mix, and here you go! It’s great in a classic margarita, and it’s also fantastic with pineapple vodka and coconut rum. I imagine it would go well with just about anything. Confession: I lined up two shot glasses, one full of tequila and one full of homemade sour mix, and tossed them back. That was good, too. 🙂

Impulse Control Homemade Sweet and Sour Mix

(makes about 3 cups)

One cup sugar

One cup water

One cup lemon juice

1/2 cup lime juice

Juice from one tangerine or 1/2 and orange

1. Bring sugar and water to a boil. Turn off heat. Cool syrup. (Seriously. Cool the syrup. And don’t do what I did. I poured warm syrup into a pickled jar, and then poured very cold lemon juice in right after it. The entire bottom of the pickle jar cracked off because it wasn’t tempered glass. I know better…but I didn’t think the syrup was THAT warm.)

2. Add lemon juice, lime juice, and tangerine/orange juice. Stir.

3. Use immediately or refrigerate. Last about a week. (Except at my house.)

Now for the margarita! Another confession: I created a perfectly lovely margarita recipe, wrote it down, drank the margarita, and lost the piece of paper with the recipe on it. However, I rely on my instincts a lot while cooking/baking/mixology-making, and here’s what I would do*:

Find a friend.

Rim two margarita glasses with salt. (Run a cut lime around the edge, and then roll the edge in kosher salt. Or pink Himalayan salt. Or whatever salt you prefer.) Add ice.

Half-fill a shaker with more ice. Pour in 3 shots of tequila, one shot of triple sec or Curacao, and 3 shots of sour mix.

Shake.

Strain into margarita glasses. Retire to the porch with snacks. Susannah served black bean and roasted sweet potato nachos in IMPULSE CONTROL. Maybe I’ll have to make that next!

*I promise I’ll whip up a batch as soon as I get home just to test the recipe. 😉

** All set! And I created a NEW drink. The Lemon Balm-arita! Lemon balm is pretty, but it will spread all over the yard. You might want to keep it contained if you decide to grow some. It’s a lovely garnish for a summer beverage!

MAKE ME, TAKE ME Martini!

In MAKE ME, TAKE ME, Book 3 of the Hot Nights series, Betsy goes on a bender in New Orleans and literally tries to drink the ROYGBIV rainbow! She makes it through blue and is headed for indigo and violet before the hero catches up with her…and buys her a sandwich. Because that’s what a real hero would do, right? God, I love Quin.

In honor of heroes, sandwiches, hot books, well-deserved benders, and the impending New Year, I give you the MAKE ME, TAKE ME Martini! It’s author-approved, almost as purple as the cover of the book, and totally quaffable. ENJOY!

The MAKE ME, TAKE ME Martini*

(Makes one…but it’s easy to double.)

One shot of unsweetened cranberry juice (I found it in the natural foods aisle)
One shot of Blue Curacao
Two shots of vodka
Wedge of lime
Purple sugar (I found it in the baking aisle)
Ice

Put the purple sugar on a plate.
Run a lime wedge around the rim of the glass and dip the rim in the purple sugar.
Measure juice and liquors into a shaker full of ice.
Shake.
Strain into glass and garnish with the lime wedge.

Enjoy with a good book. 😉

*But be careful! Notice the recipe is 3 shots booze to 1 shot juice. POTENT!

P.S. Don’t forget to enter my GIVEAWAY! Nearly a baker’s dozen of prizes! ENTER HERE!

 

Fabulous Fall Soup a.k.a. Tortellini and Sausage Soup with Beans and Greens

How is it possible I’ve never posted Olivia’s Get-Your-Groove-Back Soup from Luscious? Huge oversight!

I’m making it today for my WNYRW writer’s retreat. It never fails to deliver inspiration. Revitalization. Food for my soul. My husband discovered it nigh on thirteen years ago when our first daughter was born. I nearly died, and he made batch after batch to bring me back to life. I think it’s the fresh fennel that does it for me – especially back then when I WAS a food source for a hungry baby. Fennel adds a fresh and mysterious yet warm and familiar note to this filling soup.

Click the “Read More” tab for the recipe for this FABULOUS soup!

Strawberry Rhubarb Mojito Recipe

Many strawberries and limes were harmed in the making of this post! Several stalks of rhubarb were chopped. Mint leaves were muddled. Rum was slugged. All in the name of summer fun!

It’s sweet, just tart enough, a refreshing summer cocktail that can be slung together with a minimum of fuss and muss. Here’s how you do it:

First you must make your rhubarb simple syrup. I recommend doing this a few hours ahead of time so it can chill. But what did *I* do? I set up an ice bath with two metal bowls and ice water in between, so I could cool off the simple syrup A.S.A.P. Planning ahead is awesome, but I wanted a cocktail!

Rhubarb Simple Syrup

1 ½ cups water
1 cup granulated sugar
1 cup rhubarb, diced into small pieces

Bring to a simmer to dissolve sugar. Simmer about 5 minutes, until the liquid is reduced to 2 cups. Strain out rhubarb. (It was too good to throw away, so we ate it. You could mix it into apple sauce, strawberry jelly, or vanilla ice cream. Love rhubarb!)
Cool the syrup.

Strawberry Rhubarb Mojito

In a tall glass:
Muddle 3 lime wedges (about ¼ lime)
10 mint leaves
3 Tablespoons rhubarb simple syrup

What does muddle mean? In my house, it means smash around with a wooden spoon. My neighborhood BFF, Melissa, has a fancy mortar and pestle mojito doogie. Basically, you want to smoosh the juice out of the lime, release the oil from the zest, and bruise the mint leaves.

Add 2 ounces white rum.
Fill glass with ice.
Add ½ cup club soda.
Toss in one strawberry, small diced
Stir. Blur. Jubilate.

I set most of my romances in the kitchen because I met my husband in culinary school. We love to cook for each other, family, and friends. In fact, once a year, we roast a pig for the whole darn neighborhood! Yup, food, fun, and romance are three of my favorite things, and that’s what I bring to my stories. Check out my books and recipes to cook up some fun of your own!

Other fun stuff:

Sign up for my Awesome Sauce Newsletter

Enter to win swag from my favorite authors

Read my review of UP TO ME by Christi Barth

*Recipe originally posted by Fictional Candy during my INTO THE FIRE blog tour.

 

Hungry Hearts Happy New Year!

Welcome to the HUNGRY HEARTS HOLIDAY HOP! We are so excited to CELEBRATE the New Year with mouthwatering dip, appetizer, and drink recipes and delicious EXCERPTS from today’s hottest food-loving ROMANCE writers! Hop around each author’s site for a new recipe, and fill out the Rafflecopter form for the chance to win one of three $25 Amazon or Barnes & Noble GIFT CARDS!

In addition to the HUNGRY HEARTS HOLIDAY HOP giveaway, I’ll be featuring Hungry Hearts authors on my site this week and gifting their books to lucky winners. Stay tuned to get in on the fun! If you’d like to party in real time, please join our Facebook Party December 26th – January 1st. Pop in to chat about your New Year’s Eve plans and your 2014 resolutions.

I’m a sucker for citrus…and pomegranate…and martinis. The pomegranate part must run in the family because my New Year’s Eve baby (um…about to turn 12) will sit down and eat an entire pomegranate, seeds and all, several times a week when they’re in season. I prefer to drink mine. Like this:

Pomegranate Orange Martini (Makes two!)

6 ounces pomegranate juice

1 ounce orange juice

2 ounces vodka

1 Tablespoon (1/2 ounce) orange liqueur (more if you like it sweeter like my neighborhood BFF Melissa who miraculously had everything we needed to make these on Christmas morning-ish)

Shake over ice. Pour in a glass. Garnish with festivity! Drink with good cheer!

This is my new perfect drink. It’s sweet but not too sweet. It’s tart without kicking me in the jaw. I’m pretty sure I drank three while we were playing cards, and it’s rare that I’ll drink anything alcoholic before the sun goes down. The fact that I drank so many and held my own during the game tells me it could use a hair more vodka, but I’ll leave that up to you. 😉

I love festive beverages, and I often incorporate them into my books. Jack and Lila drink Blackberry Smashes during their red-hot truce in INTO THE FIRE. Jenna quaffs a Hibiscus Margarita before sealing the deal with Roman in SEDUCING THE PLAYBOY (coming soon!) and Betsy is about to imbibe a rainbow of daiquiris in a French Quarter bar in Book Three, the book I’m writing now.

On New Year’s Eve, my house will be filled with twelve year-olds celebrating my daughter’s birthday. There will be pizza, brownies, smoothies, games, and enough noise to have me reaching for the martini shaker, I’m sure. How are you celebrating this year?

For more mouthwatering dips, apps, and drinks, click here:

To enter our giveaway for 3 $25 GIFT CARDS to Amazon or Barnes & Noble, click here: a Rafflecopter giveaway

The Little Red Tree

Hey, y’all! I have Lissa Matthews, my kitchen soul sister, here today! She loves to cook, and she writes naughty books! #LOVE Don’t forget to enter our giveaways at the bottom of the post… Hi Lissa! 🙂

I love Christmas trees and holiday lights. They’re my favorite. Even more than presents, especially as I’ve gotten older. I love walking into a room or looking through windows or driving by houses and through neighborhoods looking at the lights. It’s something we’ve been doing since I was a child and I’ve carried that tradition on.

We only had one tree when I was growing up. But when my kids were little and even still some years, they’ve had a small tree in their rooms, decorated with their own box of ornaments.

And, I’ve had a tree too. In my room. The kitchen. It’s an appropriate place for my tree as I spend so much time in it, cooking and baking. It’s a small, 2.5 foot red tinsel tree. It sits on the island and it is decorated with Coca-Cola polar bear ornaments, cookies and cupcakes and the annual red cup ornaments from Starbucks. Caribou Coffee has ornaments on my tree as well. It’s a special tree to me. It’s festive and bright and reflects a bit of me. I love putting it up and hate taking it down.

I always look for new ornaments. I would love to have some miniature kitchen utensils for my tree.

I think Christmas trees are so magical and beautiful. They hold memories in the ornaments that decorate their branches. And the lights keep the darkness at bay and brighten the corners.

Do you have a favorite ornament? Or do you have a small tree that represents you?

I hope you have a wonderful holiday season full of hope and joy and love.

Lissa

Jackson Dawson had known only one way of life: ranching. That is, until he went to college in the city. There, he was introduced to a whole new world of people, food, and way of life. He never dared to imagine that he could do or be anything other than a rancher’s son, but with his mother’s words ringing in his ears and his sister’s encouragement, he took a chance. And in the process, found himself and met the woman of his dreams.

Pastry Chef Cass Jamieson’s only desire had been to own a bakery. After a stint in pastry school, she quickly learned that trying to make your dreams come true wasn’t easy. She was dejected when her bakery closed and soon returned to the classroom as a teacher to eager young bakers with the same stars in their eyes that had once been in hers.

So, when the stubborn, determined, and hot as summer in Texas cowboy walked into Cass’s pastry kitchen, it turned her life and libido upside down. When he seeks her out for heated kisses and her thoughts on his cake bakery idea, she gives in to the lust, but gives cautious business advice born of experience, only Jackson didn’t see it that way.

Who will bend first in this battle of wills involving sugar and spice and everything naughty and nice? Come take a ride with The Cupcake Cowboy and find out…

Warning: Uses of frosting that frosting was never intended for. A dirt road showdown. A lesson in milking cows. A whole truck full of mouthwatering cupcakes (some with liquor). A little family drama. And dreams on their way to coming true…

Excerpt:

Jackson’s text said he needed to talk to her, but it seemed she wasn’t done running from him or the deal they’d made just yet. Well, the deal he’d made and she’d gotten pissed about. He’d had no right telling her she should try again with a bakery, no right in telling her that he wanted her to take another chance. She didn’t have the right to tell him he needed to talk to his father either, so in that, they were even. Still… She’d lost everything when her bakery went under. She’d lost her pride, her confidence, her ability to dream. It had devastated her in ways she hadn’t been expected, not only professionally, but personally. She’d pulled in on herself, become a hermit. She’d stopped dating and until Jackson had wandered into her class, she couldn’t have told anyone the last time she’d been interested in anyone.

It had humiliated and embarrassed her. It was only with her tail tucked between her legs that she’d contacted her former pastry instructor looking for a teaching job. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to look for jobs in other bakeries. And now Jackson wanted her to take a chance again, to put herself out there, to set herself up for failure.

Why couldn’t he understand that going to him, facing him, confronting him was as much as she could do? He hadn’t rejected her as she’d feared, not really. He’d needed a nudge and an explanation of her feelings, but once he had it, once he realized her intent had never been to undermine, but instead caution, he’d been all over her.

What he was asking of her was different, harder. The one thing in the world she’d always wanted, until him, had flopped. It broke her heart and she’d never fully recovered.

“You’re as bad as my brother.” Samantha’s voice called Cass back to the present.

“Huh?” She looked down. “Oh.” Cass smiled, chagrined. “Sorry about that.”

The ball of dough she’d been kneading wouldn’t be worth anything if she kept it up. One more fold, press, and a final fold over and she grabbed a rolling pin from the center of the large marble worktable.

Samantha had a decked out pastry kitchen with all the essentials. It was a small space that wouldn’t afford a lot of gadgets or the latest machines, but it had everything she needed for her craft. Excellent copper pots for making caramel. Three professional grade stand mixers for making small batches of dough. Two magnetic strips hung on one wall and held her knives. The most extravagant piece of equipment was the work surface. Half marble, half butcher block. It swallowed the room whole with its monstrous size. It was well made and it’s base was hollowed out for storage cubbies full of rolling pins, pans, and bowls. It was gorgeous and Cass couldn’t quell the pangs of envy, jealousy, and wistfulness.

She dipped her hand in the bowl of flour several inches in front of her and coated the already well seasoned rolling pin in her hand. The dough was a little tough to roll out because she’d kneaded it too much. It wasn’t as elastic as it should have been.

“Hey guys, see this?” Cass took the circle she’d rolled out and held it up. It didn’t have a lot of give. “This isn’t what we’re looking for,” she told her students. “We’re looking for elastic, not rubber.” The few days she and Sam had been doing this little hands-on field trip, Cass has only been able to bring four students at a time. But it had been a big success and the administration had been all for it. There was already a waiting list for future classes.

Sometimes, though bullheadedness and charging headfirst worked, having this kind of training outside the classroom would be an invaluable part of their education.

Jackson hadn’t been approached about it yet and Cass didn’t know if he would be. She’d been avoiding him and it wouldn’t look right if she showed up asking for a favor.

“So, you mean you’re not perfect, Chef?”

“Man, that’s a relief.”

Cass stared at her students. This group was fresh out of community college and younger than the group she’d brought over two days ago. She flicked flour in their general direction. “Of course I’m not perfect, but you won’t be either if you do this to the dough.”

“Perfection is overrated,” said another of her students.

“Depends on what you’re trying to perfect.”

Cass froze at the voice behind her. Her fingers involuntarily tightened on the circle of dough. Sam reached out and ripped it away from her with smirk. “Here. I’ll take that before you murder it.” To the people gathered around the table, Sam said, “This is my brother, Jackson. He owns The Cupcake Cowboy mobile bakery. By the name, you should be able to guess what his specialty is.”

“Oh man, I love your cupcakes. That red velvet is to die for.”

“Nah. The coconut cream is the best.”

“I like the chocolate stout with beer buttercream.”

Cass hadn’t turned to look at Jackson, but she felt him. He was so close to her back that the heat of his body flowed into her. Not that she needed to be any warmer. The heat in The Sticky Cowgirl kitchen was oppressive enough with the extra bodies filling the space, but the heat from Jackson was of a different variety. It caused her heart to start racing, her palms to sweat, liquid to pool between her legs.

“Thanks. What’ve y’all got goin’ on here?”

When Cass started to move, which way she didn’t know, Jackson settled a large, firm hand on her shoulder. Was she going to turn around? Was she going to run out the back door? Was she just going to crawl into the oven and be done with it?

“A teaching lesson,” Sam offered. Cass was so thankful that the other woman was there. She could carry the conversation with Jackson while Cass stood mute, unsure what to say to the man at her back. “I approached Cass last week about it and every couple of days, she brings in a fresh batch of young, bright eyed people for me to corrupt to the darkside.”

Jackson’s fingers flexed on Cass. “Sticky buns are the darkside?”

Samantha stuck her tongue out at her brother. “Going into business for yourself is the darkside. It’s not easy, and they’re learning valuable lessons about running a kitchen of their own.”

“That’s a great idea. But… I have to say I’m a little hurt that no one mentioned it to me.”

“Maybe you and Cass should step outside and discuss how you’d fit more than one extra person in the back of your cupcake truck.”

Cass shook her head, but Jackson ignored her by saying, “Yes, maybe we should. Ms. Jamieson, a word please.” He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He just used the hand on her shoulder to turn her wooden body toward the door leading to the outside of the shop.

She would have to face him now. She would have to look him in the eye and tell him she couldn’t do what he wanted her to do. But that would evidently have to wait because he had maneuvered her until her back was against the wall and his mouth was on hers.

Their tongues tangled and his hands anchored her in place. She grabbed for his t-shirt and pulled him even closer. He situated one of his thighs between her legs and repeatedly nudged with pointed precision.

She should’ve pushed him away. She should’ve ended their kiss and gotten the conversation out of the way so she could get back inside to her class. She should’ve done a lot of things, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed put, trapped between his hard body and the hard wall, rocking on his thigh.

The proverbial rock and hard place. Only it wasn’t proverbial anymore. It was literal. Real. Happening to her.

She worked, against her better judgment, to increase the friction of hard denim seam, silky satin, and male thigh strength. She wrenched her mouth from his to inhale air into her lungs, but he took her with another kiss almost immediately.

His teeth nipped at her. His tongue slipped and slid around her mouth, tasting every inch, then engaged her tongue once more in the play.

He tasted like sugar and chocolate. Buttercream. It was her favorite and on him, it was divine and she’d never be able to lick it from a spoon, a beater, a cupcake without thinking about him.

“Remember this position, baby? Remember being on my couch that first time?”

Oh yes, she remembered everything about that night. The wickedness of the frosting foreplay ramped up the arousal currently assaulting her. His lips skittered from her mouth across her cheek, down to her jaw and over to her ear. He bit the lobe gently and the heat of his breath made her moan.

Bright sunlight glared at her. The sky was a clear, crystal blue without a cloud to mar its beauty. She could see tree tops with bright green foliage and in the distance she could hear the activity from inside the kitchen, laughter, and the always busy Riverwalk district and downtown business happenings.

She could see it, hear it, but she couldn’t respond to anything other than Jackson. She bucked and rode his thigh, seeking an orgasm that was just over the ridge. “Please,” she managed to croak out.

“Feel good, baby?”

That drawl she’d been ruminating on earlier teased her with its nearness. It jacked up her need. “Better than…”

WHEW! *fanning myself* You KNOW you want to ride THE CUPCAKE COWBOY, too. Here…there’s enough of him to go around. 😉

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What’s Your Regional Holly Jolly?

A big Hungry Hearts welcome to Christi Barth! We met a few years ago at an RWA conference and bonded over breakfast bagels. She writes sweet, sexy, sassy contemporary romance that always ends up making me hungry! You’ll see why…Welcome, Christi!

One of my favorite things about the holidays is the special food. I can’t tell you how many eggnog and gingerbread lattes I drink in two months. Nor shall I divulge how many bags of cranberries I hoard in my freezer once the twinkle lights come down. Sure, some holiday food is universal, but some is regional. I just discovered that in Baltimore, they always serve pork and sauerkraut alongside the turkey on Thanksgiving. I’ve lived here eleven years, but I’m still not quite on board with that tradition (two entrees? That’s just a whole lot of extra work to me, no matter how delicious).

Available at AMAZON, BARNES AND NOBLE, and CARINA PRESS

So when I write Christmas stories, even though I’m packing all things holly and jolly onto every page, I make sure to capture the regional flavor. My latest release, Tinsel My Heart, takes place in Minneapolis. The city—heck, the whole state—has strong Norwegian and Swedish contingents. Don’t worry, I’m not going to mention lutefisk (dried cod treated with lye), because while it may be traditional, in the five years I lived there I never encountered a single person who actually liked it.

The food that everyone does go bonkers for is cheese curds. And the epitome of this local delicacy is to deep fry them. Here’s my Scrooge-tastic hero, Jack Whittaker, enjoying his first serving of cheese curds in ten years.

He popped a palmful of fried cheese curds into his mouth. Eyelids shut, he moaned with a look of bliss on his face. Bliss that could easily be interpreted as orgasmic. A jolt of awareness—eagerness?—shuddered through Becca. As if she’d slugged back a shot of sexual caffeine. Jack looked dark and dangerous these days. Just the kind of man a woman fantasized about at night. About having in between her flannel sheets. About not needing flannel sheets anymore. Not with a man like Jack to keep her warm on these long Minnesota nights. Becca grabbed the coffee cup and drained it, fast. Hoped it would explain the red flush she felt heating her cheeks.

“They’re as good as I remember. Maybe even better. Which is kind of amazing. Almost nothing lives up to your expectations after ten years.” A long, measured look across the table at Becca. “Almost…” Jack drew the word out slowly.

You thought I meant hungry for food, didn’t you? Well…that, too. TINSEL MY HEART sounds like a holiday treat! Here’s the blurb:

Becca Huntley’s produced the Lyndale Park Player’s over-the-top Christmas pageant for ten years. The beloved Minneapolis tradition is the theatre’s main fundraiser. But this year’s production is almost canceled when their director disappears into rehab at the last minute. Good thing his directing partner steps in to save the day. Except for the minor fact that he hates everything about Christmas.

Jack Whittaker wiped the Twin Cities off his shoe with his graduation tassel and never looked back. But duty compels him to fulfill Tyler’s promise to direct the show. Even though it means working side-by-side with Becca, the girl he always wanted, lost to Ty, but never forgot.

It’ll take more than a few handfuls of tinsel to soften Jack’s heart toward Becca’s favorite holiday. Steamy kisses that melt the snow right off his boots are a step in the right direction. They’ll both discover that Christmas is about making each other’s dreams come true. But will doing so destroy their chance at a happily-ever-after together?

You can find out tomorrow! Yay! Release day! If you need more sparks from Becca and Jack right away (and there are sparks, trust me!) you can purchase TINSEL MY HEART at  Amazon  Barnes & Noble  Carina Press

Or for the chance to win, enter our giveaway for one e-copy of TINSEL MY HEART: a Rafflecopter giveaway

Meanwhile, since I teased you with sparks, let’s read another little excerpt…

Excerpt:

She picked up the end of her braid and tickled hischeek. “Told ya.”

The silken hair set off a chain reaction in his body. Blood pounded south in great, galloping leaps and bounds to pool in his crotch. Jack hadn’t experienced an insta-hard-on like that in years. He quickly shifted the black script binder across his lap.

“You’ve changed, Becca.”

“Since high school? I would hope so.” Then her lips pursed. “Okay, you’ve piqued my curiosity. Exactly how have I changed?”

“You’ve grown from a pretty girl into a beautiful woman.”

“Oh.” Her pale cheeks turned the color of ripe strawberries. It made Jack wonder if her nipples were the same color. Or would turn that color after he used his lips on them. “Um, thank you. And let me just say that adding a few pounds of pure muscle didn’t hurt you any, either.”

Interesting. Might as well push a little harder, see what developed. “Here I thought you were going to comment on my righteously masculine goatee.”

As if lifted by marionette strings, her hand rose, scraped along the end-of-day stubble on his cheeks to trace the outline of the goatee. “It, ah, makes you look devilish.”

“Want to dance with the devil?”

“What?” Her gaze flew up to meet his as her hands dropped to her lap. “You want to dance?”

Super literal people made flirting much more difficult. Jack sighed. “Metaphorically.” When she still looked bewildered, he continued. “Forget it. Do you want to have dinner with me?”

She blinked, rapidly. Looked down at her hands twisting together. “That depends.”

It wasn’t a complicated question. Jack didn’t want her take on the crisis in Syria. Why would a simple dinner invite come with conditions? “On what?”

Becca looked over both shoulders, as if to check they were still alone. Or as alone as you could get in a threehundred-seat theatre full of people milling about from the lobby to the dressing rooms. “Are you just lonely, Jack? Because of Ty?”

“I’m a grown-ass man. I can eat by myself,” he growled.

“I know. I guess my real question is, do you want to have dinner with just anyone? Or do you want to have dinner with me?” She fluttered her hands up to cover her heart.

Now he got it. Well, he didn’t get why she had the crazy female insecurity, but at least he knew what she was driving at. “I want to have dinner with you. Only you. Not because we used to be good friends. Not even because we’ve slid pretty well back into those roles. And not just dinner.” Jack grasped her chin between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re a beautiful woman who heats me up every time you slide those cool lake eyes over me. With enough talent and know-how and passion for my business to make for interesting conversation. So what I want from you, Becca, is a date.”

To his utter surprise, she didn’t blush again. Or look away. Or for that matter, look flustered at all. Instead, she mimicked his pose, putting her hand to his mouth. Rubbed her soft thumb in a slow glide across his lower lip. Her eyes darkened from the clear blue of Lake Harriet in the summer to the darkness of a winter’s night.

“Well, why didn’t you say so? Of course I’ll go out with you.”

No matter how many he tried on for size, women never failed to confound him. Jack didn’t know what he’d said to peel off her timidity. Didn’t care, either. Just looked forward to an evening filled with more surprises from the woman he was discovering he liked even more than the girl he used to adore.

And that’s not all…if you want even more Christmas, you can purchase ALL I’M ASKING FOR, which is an anthology containing TINSEL MY HEART and two other Christmas novellas. Pretty sweet!

A little bit about Christi:

Christi Barth earned a Master’s degree in vocal performance and embarked upon a career on the stage.  A love of romance then drew her to wedding planning.  Ultimately she succumbed to her lifelong love of books and now writes contemporary romance.  She is the award-winning author of the Aisle Bound series. Christi is President of the Maryland Romance Writers and lives in Maryland with her husband.

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