It’s (Christmas) Cookie Time!

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To me, Christmas means the birth of Christ and joy, peace and love. The Reason for the Season is that, of course. But forgive me if I do a happy dance, because Christmas also means cookies. And I’m more of a monster than Cookie Monster. I love ANY and ALL cookies, not just chocolate chip. Bars, frosted stars, shortbread, crunchy or soft, melt-in-your-mouth or chewy, molasses or snickerdoodle, fortune cookie — call it a cookie and I’ll try it.

Do I bake cookies at Christmas? NO. Well, I did. But I ended up eating half of them before they got into the storage tin. Notice how there are missing cookies on that plate to the right, LOL. I cannot trust myself. I may bake a little shortbread or try to press a Spritz tree or two when my daughter is home, so we can have fun decorating. But other than that, nope. I can’t afford the calories!

Gone are the days when my mother filled a huge silver tray with rows of Christmas cookies. She was a cookie fiend, and passed that gene on to me. Thanks, Mom! No regrets.

Here are my abso-fab favorites of the Christmas cookie season!! Drool over the pics, and have a wonderful, crunchy, sugar-frosted holiday!

Russian Tea Cakes — perfect with tea, milk, coffee, a shot of Baileys, you name it. Sweet, melt-in-your-mouth and a royal pain to make — which means I got stuck making them for our Sister’s Christmas party. You have have to roll the cookie balls hot out of the oven in powdered sugar, let them cool, and then roll ‘em again. A friend makes a version of these she calls “Snowdrops” using all butter, just as delicious, half-circles in shape, but so delicate and easy to break. Mmm! Cold milk or hot cinnamon spice tea are best with these.

Shortbread — named so because it’s a simple recipe. But look at all the varieties to the right! Talk about a lot of work. My shortbread comes out of my shortbread baker, imprinted (and thanks to my friend Kathy for that lovely shortbread clay baker) and easy to divide. No decorating needed, just eat — although the jelly ones do look good in that picture. Hmm. Might have to try that, But fingers of buttery shortbread go well with eggnog (low fat or fat free, of course), milk, coffee, tea, Baileys, a nice Mimosa…

Jelly Thumbprints — Mom used to make these, and now my oldest sister has mastered the trick. Not hard to make, but another two-step process. Roll dough balls into nuts, press with thumb, bake. Fill with whatever jelly you prefer right before serving, so they don’t stick together. Mom used wax paper to put between them, which made it tough to peel off. Nice with milk. Not sure about coffee, tea for sure, and maybe eggnog.

Spritz — Christmas just isn’t the same without Spritz cookies! My mom made huge batches of these cookies. Trees with green sugar, poinsettias with red, candy canes (the cookie press had a “rope” insert, and she’d twist them into the J shape) with red sugar, and wreaths — same “rope” shaped into circles, sprinkled with green sugar, and two strips of the cut-up Maraschino cherries to make the “bow.” Very festive. My second oldest sister mastered the cookie press, and luckily my daughter did too. I can’t seem to get the hang of it. We stick to trees, sprinkle them with non-pareils to resemble twinkling lights. If I’m really into it, I’ll sprinkle with green sugar first and then add the colorful dots. Perfect with milk, tea, coffee, Baileys. Probably great with a Brandy Alexander too.

Last but not least, Toffee Bars! These are the EASIEST to make — which means my youngest spoiled sister always got to make these, the brat. Just a cookie dough bottom to spread into a 9 X 13 pan, bake that and then spread a package of semi-sweet chocolate chips over it in a thin layer. Add chopped walnuts. YUM!!! They go fast. Great with milk, coffee, and any type of drink you wish. The only real work is chopping the walnuts! LOL Easy to store or freeze. They have chocolate and nuts in them — two major food groups in my pyramid.

Got any favorite Christmas cookies? Tell me what your favorites are in a comment!

 

Wednesday Spotlight with Meg Mims: Featuring Velda Brotherton

Today the sun shines on western author Velda Brotherton. She lives in a home she designed and helped build in the Ozarks of Arkansas. The house wraps around an old rock chimney and the original well of the homestead place, on property she and her husband bought in 1972.

Tell us about your home and why today is so special to you, Velda!

We have ten acres with a creek in the valley below. From my office I can look out sliding glass doors to a small patio that includes the well. Out the back windows the mountain slopes upward to the Ozark National Forest which is also the Boston Mountain Animal Refuge, so there are lots of wild critters that include small black bears, deer, an occasional mountain lion –they are reclusive and rarely seen, only heard — but we do have many smaller visitors. It’s a perfect place to write.

What’s special about today? It’s our 59th wedding anniversary! Getting married on December 19 wasn’t exactly what we’d planned, but circumstances can instantly change plans, as everyone knows. Korea was in an uproar in 1953 and we had been engaged since I graduated from high school in May. Then my fiancee got called up and was sent to Kansas City. I was a mess. Too young to understand all the feelings about loss and fear and that first love stuff. You know, can’t be out of sight and had to be on the telephone when we were apart. So when he returned I had a fit, as only girls of that age can. I wasn’t letting him go without us being married. My dad hit the roof, but my mother, bless her heart, completely understood. Later I learned that she told him if he didn’t give in, we’d run away and she didn’t want a split in the family. So within two weeks she handled everything from making my wedding gown to arranging the church, flowers, cake and reception.

Christmas was the farthest thing from our minds as we fled the reception to the tiny house we’d purchased in a suburb. One of those $79 down and $49 a month. Hey, it was 1953, what can I say? I worked for an insurance company and brought home $30 a week. We postponed a honeymoon until March when we spent two weeks in the Ozarks.

As it turned out, he was never sent to Korea. Something about flat feet, or some such ridiculous thing. For our first Christmas we bought a tiny tree, put it in a coffee can filled with sand. My parents were great, had us at their house for the day and we had a grand time, despite my father’s disappointment.

Every year celebrating our anniversary the week before Christmas strains things a bit, but it’s just become a part of the Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s craziness. We drink champagne, sometimes go out. One year we went to the Fayetteville square and rode the buggy on a Christmas tour for our anniversary. Some years we don’t do much but get together with our children, grandchildren and maybe a couple of friends. My parents are gone now, but they would occasionally join us if we had a stay home party.

Last year things were so rushed between families that we celebrated with champagne on Christmas Eve when everyone could be with us. We have a small family so even one missing is troubling. Our 50th Wedding anniversary was pretty sad. I had just had back surgery and my brother was in the last stages of lung cancer, so it was April before we finally celebrated that event with a get together of all our friends at our daughter’s beautiful home.

Our daughter and her husband built a home on an acreage attached to ours. It’s only a short walk through a stand of pine trees to her back door. She has a daughter, a son and a grandson. We have a son who has chosen not to be part of the family because of his lifestyle. His son lives in Austin and is close to us.

Hubby and I have a cat who is six years old. She was born on the same day as our great grandson. Our daughter presented her to us when she was six weeks old. She is a bob tail and her father was part Bob Cat. She is spoiled and follows my husband around like a dog and is never far out of his sight.

I once enjoyed gardening and canning and preserving our food. We also raised our own beef and pork and chicken. I had a beautiful Tennessee Walker mare that I enjoyed riding all over the countryside. We’ve had to give that all up as we grew older and couldn’t handle the work involved. Now writing is my main source of enjoyment. We travel by car for conferences and enjoy that a lot. I drive, my husband rages. That’s why he doesn’t drive.

   

We share a swimming pool with our daughter and her family so the summer is filled with water play. I still like to make apple sauce and strawberry jam, things I can freeze. I’m also an artist but haven’t had time to paint since this joy of writing grabbed hold of me. My husband continues to do a lot of my research online, and I spend a lot of time promoting my books online. I guess you could say our computers are our friends. What little time I have to read is done mostly from my Kindle. I like Craig Johnson, James Lee Burke, Thomas Harris, Michael Connolly. My reading tastes are far from what I like to write, but I feel safer that way. No danger I’ll accidentally incorporate one of those writers’ words into my historical romances. I’m also a movie buff and stream them late at night for relaxation. My favorites are thrillers and drama.

My current release is Wilda’s Outlaw. Here’s what it’s about:

Wilda Duncan will do anything to escape marriage to Lord Blair Prescott, and roguish outlaw Calder Raines with his shaggy dark hair, jade green eyes and flirtatious manner will do quite nicely. All she has to do is convince him to kidnap her.

Excerpt from Wilda’s Outlaw

“You want me to kidnap you so you don’t have to marry this remittance man?”

“Remittance…? I…never mind, that is essentially it, yes. I don’t wish to marry Lord Prescott.”

“What do you think they’ll do to me if they catch us?”

She shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see her in the dark. “Well, but they are already going to hang you if they catch you. Is that not so? So what difference would it make?” He uttered some words under his breath that she didn’t understand, but she decided it was best that way.

“I suppose that’s true,” he finally said. “But tell me one reason why I ought to do this. Just one would do, two would be better.”

“Reason?”

“Or are you uppity English so used to having your way you thought all you had to do was ask? What’s in it for me, lady?”

Uppity? How dare he? Her tongue stuck to the roof of her dry mouth, and it was a moment before she could go on. Afraid to reply to his second question, for fear he might be getting at something she wouldn’t want to deal with, she answered the first.

“No. I don’t recall ever having my way. Not since my parents were killed and they sent me to that orphanage.”

A short silence, followed by a snort. “Oh, that’s good. Make me feel sorry for you. I watched my father murdered and my mother died of the pox when I was off fighting the damned Yankees, who burned down our house and killed both my brothers. Nobody’s ever given a damn about any of that, and they sure as hell won’t give me any breaks when they go to hang me, so why should I give you any?”

She thought about that. He was right of course. She had said nearly the same on occasion. “I’m sorry about your family, but at least I didn’t start robbing and killing people.”

“No, you just sold yourself to a man and now you want out of it.”

“That’s not exactly true.”

“And it’s not true I’ve killed…well, except in the war, and that doesn’t count. Where’d you get that idea anyway?”

“I suppose I…oh, I have no idea. I just thought – ”

“Thinking’s not good. Tell me, what do you suggest I do with you…that is, if I agree to this crazy idea?”

“Do with me?”

“Well, I can’t carry you around on the back of my horse the rest of my life, or stuff you in my saddle bags and only let you out to…uh, do your business once in a while. I do have one, you know. A life, I mean. Plans too, me and the boys.”

“Boys? What boys?”

“You’re really hard to talk to, you know that?”

“Well, I don’t understand half what you say. It does make it difficult to converse. Do you have children? Sons?”

“Holy shit. No, I don’t have children. The boys, that’s my gang.”

She batted her eyes at the expletive, tried not to be judgmental. After all, this was another culture, but he certainly possessed a gutter mouth. “The boys are your outlaw gang?”

He snapped his fingers, startled her. “Hey, I got it, you could join the gang. Do the cooking, help us rob banks. How about that?”

“Oh, dear. I’m afraid – ”

A low, pleasant laugh interrupted her. “I was only kidding. Don’t you see how impossible this is?”

“I only see how impossible my situation is. Take me to another town where I can hide from him. I cannot marry him, I simply cannot.”

“Then why don’t you just tell him so, and then leave? He can’t force you to stay, can he?” He was silent for a long while, and she made to leave. “You aren’t going to threaten to expose me…for the train robbery? If I don’t do this, I mean.”

“No, why would I do that?”

He thought for a while longer, and this time she remained still, ears clogged with the beat of her heart. “If I kidnap you and it’s not your fault you can’t marry him, you think he’ll continue to care for your sister and cousin.”

“Yes, I do. It would be a matter of honor. But─”

“All right, then. I’ll do it. We can figure out what to do with you later. But we have a problem.”

Joy cut short, she stared at him. “A problem?”

“How do you propose to convince him that you’ve been snatched rather than simply run away? Do we leave a note, or maybe I could go knock on the door and say, ‘hey, in case you didn’t notice, I’m kidnapping your fiancé, or whatever.’ Maybe that’d work.”

Pondering on that a moment, she frowned. “Oh, you cannot do that, and I’m afraid he would not believe a note…I mean, would he not think I wrote it and ran off?”

“Yeah, you may be right. Okay, let me think.”

She did, glancing occasionally toward the house. The lights had been extinguished on the lower floor, but some still burned in the bed chambers. Suppose someone went to her room, found her gone, raised the alarm? This was taking far too much time.

“Can you scream?” he asked finally, startling her.

“Why…yes, I suppose I can.”

That said, he grabbed her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of feed. “You can scream anytime now.”

Leave a comment and win a free e-copy! Or if you don’t want to wait and see if you won, CLICK HERE to buy Wilda’s Outlaw!

Check out Velda’s other books — Click the title below each photo for the link.

   

Stone Heart’s Woman                               Wolf Song

Check out Velda’s Amazon Author page to see more of her books!

Wonderful Christmas Reads!

What would YOU like to find under the Christmas tree? BOOKS, of course! But isn’t it time to make the switch???

Get ‘em on your e-reader! Even Santa approves!! Here’s a few great Christmas reads I can recommend.

Enjoy!

For all Contemporary Romance, Regency Romance and Mystery lovers:

                

Love Romance? Try Twelve Kisses Later — Sandra Sookoo — a fun, sweet Christmas read…. Love dogs? Try Santa Paws — Meg Mims — my own sweet, fun Christmas read!  or try Patricia Kiyono’s ice-carving romance! Do you love Regency romance? Try Scandal on Half Moon Street by Vivian Roycroft, or The Toymaker by Kay Springsteen, or Ghosts of Winters Past by Christina Graham Parker. Love Mystery? Try Holiday Buzz by Cleo Coyle! Or get your Sherlock on with one of my favorites, The Blue Carbuncle by A. C. Doyle!! Need a good book for kids? Here’s a few fun ones, a picture book and a mid-grade/YA.

   

AND… if you can find a used bookstore, try to find this book — I’m waiting till the authors can get their own stories out as e-book novellas. All of these stories have an Elvis theme, and revolve around Memphis and the Heartbreak Hotel. Great fun!

So enjoy some great reads for Christmas!! Have a merry one — and keep reading!

SunSpot — SANTA PAWS: A Christmas Novella!

Ho Ho Ho… Santa Paws is available for your reading pleasure!

Who can resist that adorable face?? I had a lot of fun imagining how a rescue dog would wreak havoc in a new home — not out of spite but a lack of training and perhaps anxiety issues. And I based my novella on my own real life situation. I “took in” a dog heading to the pound. He’d been “naughty” and yet I hated the idea of a sweet-faced dog like Benji waiting for a “forever home” with hundreds of other dogs who could not be trusted with young children. I had a troublesome dog, a Malti-poo with an attitude, who needed a “good buddy.”

And they hit it off, despite misgivings — and despite some minor adjustments, like Benji tearing up cardboard boxes, scratching doors, and chasing the cat. That part is definitely true in the book!

      

Here are photos of my pets — I still haven’t gotten a photo of the dogs together. Dusty is a “couch potato” and the cat believes the whole house is hers. Benji is a squirrel-chaser. I have to admit, I love them all. They’re like “my children” and a lot of fun — even if they’re a lot of work. And the dogs do keep my feet warm at night, although the husband grumbles about them taking up too much room on the bed. LOL

Here’s what Santa Paws is about:

The last thing Lacey Gordon—divorced with a teen daughter and two cats—needs is a rescue dog coming into her life. To top it off, she’s rooked into a “Get Under the Mistletoe by Christmas Eve” dating contest. Since Buddy the dog prefers to be the only “new guy” in Lacey’s life, will Santa Claws ruin her holiday for good?

Here’s a brief excerpt from SANTA PAWS — enjoy!

Lacey could go grocery shopping Saturday—uh oh. She’d promised to think about attending the ‘dating contest’ at Fresh Grounds. She did love their mocha lattes. Hm. She hurried through the rest of the paperwork piled on her desk, turned off her lamp and computer, then ran into April on the way out to the parking garage. The elevator’s chill set them both shivering.

“I’ve got you down for noon at Fresh Grounds.”

“Why so early? I thought you had the whole afternoon reserved.”

“You’re quality, remember.” April dashed to her truck.

Lacey clutched the top of her coat together to shield against the bitter wind. She hurried to her car in the growing dusk, grateful to see the sunset courtesy of Daylight Savings. Lacey drove toward home, half-listening to the news, hoping Todd wouldn’t ruin her evening or get stuck in traffic. Pure luck she zipped home in half an hour.

And nearly ran down a burly man in a Sherpa jacket and baseball cap, walking a dog across the street. Not just any dog, but a beige and white pit bull. Lacey shivered. She pulled into the condo complex in relief. Home, sweet home. Even if it was a bit cramped compared to a house in the ‘burbs where she’d spent her marriage. The frame and brick condominiums, surrounded by tall oaks and maples, had four two-story units joined together with a one-story ranch on the side. Most neighbors here were retired, walking their dogs through the narrow streets and parking lots to the woodier paths beyond the complex.

But she cursed aloud seeing Todd’s car in her sheltered parking spot. Lacey warned him the last time not to do that. He never listened. Not now, not back when they’d been married—until she dangled a satin thong in his face. Lacey had found them stuffed in his jacket pocket, and refused to listen to his half-hearted, lame excuses. He hadn’t fought the divorce. Perhaps he preferred running around, since he’d been doing just that since high school. Why hadn’t she realized that long ago? Trust was important to her.

Not to him.

She slung her briefcase over one shoulder and walked around her condo to the front door. Lacey fumbled for her keys in her purse. Her briefcase slipped off her shoulder, its hefty weight dragging her down, and her feet burned inside her new pumps. She heard an odd scratching sound. That couldn’t be the cats. They weren’t at the window as usual, watching for birds.

“Deena? Is that you?”

Lacey unlocked the door. Once she opened it, a hairy beige dog barreled into her, knocking her onto her bottom, spilling her briefcase and purse into the snow. She shrieked, her backside aching, one shoe on and one shoe off. Lacey stared in horror when the dog lifted his leg and piddled in an arc over her leg. A few warm wet drops dribbled on her pantyhose.

Deena appeared in the doorway and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Buddy! Bad dog—oh, Mom, he’s really very sweet. Just wait till you—no, Buddy!”

Lacey watched the dog snatch her purse and duck between her daughter’s legs, then race inside the house and up the carpeted steps. Leaving a trail of muddy footprints.

ONLY 99c and available for Amazon KindleB&N Nook, Kobo and Smashwords – if you have an iPad, an iPhone or some other device, Smashwords is your best bet.


 

SunSpot with Meg Mims — Featuring Mary Trimble

Today the sun is shining on Mary Trimble. She’s the adventurer I’d always wished I could be — as well as a prolific writer!

Mary has drawn on personal experiences including purser and ship’s diver aboard the tall ship, M.S. Explorer, two years with the Peace Corps in West Africa, and a 13,000-mile South Pacific sailing trip aboard their Bristol 40, Impunity.

Is that incredible, or what??

I asked Mary three questions, which she graciously answered.

1. Plotter or pantser?  …  I’m definitely a plotter and work with an outline. I am not tied to the outline, but use it to keep on track

2. When is your best time to write?  … I’m a morning writer. My husband and I get up at 4:30 a.m. and go for a 3-mile walk. Then he leaves for work at 6:00 and I head down the hall to my office.

3. What’s your revision method?  … My revision method is to read the work I’ve done the day before and get it as good as I can. This gets me in the mood and into the feel of the story where I left off. As I go along, I’ll read it to my critique group, chapter by chapter. After the book is finished, I’ll read it straight through and always find lots of things to change.

Mary recently published a memoir, TUBOB: Two Years in West Africa with the Peace Corps. It’s the story of a newly married couple who discover themselves in a new light as they work and learn about a different culture in a third-world country. They find strength and frustration trying to make a difference. Caught up in a military coup, they seek refuge in a house with 116 other people and wonder if their lives will ever be the same.

Buy Links: Amazon and author’s website

Mary has shared a brief but exciting excerpt — enjoy!

MORTARS THUNDERED close to the house where 118 of us sought refuge. A particularly loud and close-sounding explosion made us jump and the house shudder. Not for the first time, I thought, Is this the end?

My Peace Corps supervisor Meri Aimes and I crouched under a small table with space only for the two of us. Others scrunched in where they could find room. My husband, Bruce, safely tucked under the desk he’d converted to a radio station, clutched the radio mic.

True, it was the American Ambassador’s house, but, though nice, it wasn’t the grand residence usually associated with a high-ranking officer’s home. At four thousand square feet, the concrete house wasn’t particularly large, not for this many people at any rate.

Our group of leaders had taken over the ambassador’s bedroom as a sort of headquarters, since the ambassador himself was “detained” at the embassy in The Gambia’s capital city, Banjul. Families occupied the other two bedrooms; otherwise, people squeezed in where they could.

Meri’s eyes were huge. Her African American face was always expressive, but never more so than just then. “This isn’t looking good, is it?” I said, trying to sound calmer than I felt.

Meri looked at me like I’d just made the understatement of the year. “Not really, no.”

“I’m wondering if Bruce and I will ever be able to get back to our village.”

“Right now I’d say it was doubtful.” We both instinctively covered our heads at the sound of a close-by explosion. I broke out in sweat.

“I need to tell you something.” Meri’s raised her eyebrows in question. I waited until another flurry of rifle shots subsided. “We have about twenty-five hundred dollars buried in our chicken coop.”

“You what?”

Thanks for sharing all this, Mary! What a great story. Mary’s other works include Tenderfoot, a romantic suspense with a sub-plot of the 1980 Mount St. Helens eruption, which was a 2010 SPUR Finalist for Best Western Long Novel, and her coming-of-age novels, Rosemount and McClellan’s Bluff. Both have been met with enthusiastic acclaim. McClellan’s Bluff was the EPIC 2004 Winner for Young Adult Fiction.

Mary lives on Camano Island, Washington, with her husband, Bruce.