So, a couple of weeks ago, I asked y’all to tell me what you wanted to see on my blog. You apparently like everything I’m doing, but someone mentioned they’d love to see recipes, too! So, I’m sharing the dish I make (I don’t have a huge repertoire) that my family loves. It’s super simple. And you don’t have to measure, just throw things in.

First, I set a pot of water boiling on the stove with a couple of dashes of olive oil and a shake of sea salt. When it starts to bubble—don’t wait until it’s fully boiling—go ahead and throw in your ravioli. We like cheese ravioletti, the little raviolis, better. And because we like leftovers, I make three boxes at a time. Two would actually be enough, but again—leftovers! Here’s the link on Amazon to the box we like: Ravioletti. It takes about 15 minutes to cook. I start testing them around 12 minutes. You don’t want them too soggy. I like a little chewiness.

As soon as the ravioletti is cooking, take out a fry pan, heat it with a shake of olive oil in the bottom, and then combine these ingredients in the pan:

• diced onions to your taste (I use half of a medium onion)
• a jar of sun-dried tomatoes in olive oil, chopped. This is the jar I love: Sun-dried Tomatoes.
• a heaping tablespoon of minced garlic (not the dried kind–we use the stuff in the jar)
• a packet of pine nuts
• several hard shakes of oregano and basil; a little sea salt
• Yes, the sun-dried tomatoes have their own olive oil, but add maybe a tablespoon more of olive oil

Once the onions are translucent, add a bunch of fresh spinach. I usually get one of those large containers in the salad section of the supermarket. I add enough it’s almost to the top of the deep frying pan I use. It’s not too much because it reduces to nothing when it’s cooked. Once the spinach is reduced, turn off the stove and set the pan aside.

When the ravioletti is done, drain it, then combine both pans into a large bowl and mix it up.

Serve it with parmesan cheese. I add pepper to mine.

Here, my daughter made some homemade focaccia bread to go with the pasta. So, delicious!

Now, if I were making this dish for myself, I’d add artichoke hearts! It’s sooooo good in this dish, but my family hates artichokes.

If you try it, I’d love to hear how you liked it! Also, let me know if you’d like more recipes!

UPDATE: The winner is…Adisen!
*~*~*

Hello Delilah!

Thank you for hosting me again. I’m thrilled to drop by and talk about my latest charity anthology — The Billionaire Fling.  I love doing these because I don’t get out much, so volunteering is off the table, for the most part.  And I make charitable donations, but I often feel disconnected from those.  Actually sitting down and writing a story makes everything more connected.  More really. The bonus is I get to work with a fantastic team and 19 amazing other authors in support of a cause I believe in.  Most people have been touched by breast cancer.  As we age, there’s an inevitability to this.  For me, my dear aunt Heather had it.  She fought — and won — but I’d love to see a day where we can prevent this devastating illness. Or where the treatments aren’t nearly as toxic and debilitating.  Anyway, my aunt’s going strong, ten years into remission.  I hope she’s with us for a long time to come.

Okay, great, Gabbi…but you said something about tropes?

Fair enough.

I’ve only written one billionaire story — Beautiful Eyes — and I didn’t market it as such.  Sure, the hero has earned over a billion dollars.  But he says it casually.  And, he doesn’t throw money around to impress other people.  He uses his money for good.  He doesn’t live flamboyantly, and he’s humbled when facing true poverty and deprivation.  In that book, the BDSM and relationship between the hero and heroine are far more central to the story.

When I sat down to write my new story, Grant’s Gambit, I took a similar approach — the money is truly secondary in the story.  My hero and heroine have just partaken in an intense cathartic BDSM scene (off page).  This story is their journey of discovery into what it means when all the barriers have been brought down.  About how learning to trust after such a powerful scene can have a lasting impact.  Oh, and one of the characters happens to be rich.  Lisa’s family recently sold their media empire and she’s got a billion or two in the bank.

That’s where the trope flipping happens.  I wanted my story to be different. I wanted a female billionaire.  Lisa’s a character I’ve used before (she’s also a Domme — another bit of a flip).  She wields a whip and flogger with finesse.  She can also bring grown men to their knees — literally and figuratively.  With Grant’s permission, she does this with him. What’s left is the beginning of a long-term relationship (okay, they’re totally together forever).  Yes, this is sort of instalove.  Or not.  They’ve circled each other for a year at Club Kink, the BDSM club.  Each knows what they’re getting.  Or so they believe.  Grant’s an electrician.  Lisa’s a professional Domme.  Grant makes it clear he’s got no issues with her continuing with that work.  Her little bombshell of the newly inherited money means nothing to him.  He plans to go to work on Monday.  The only change he foresees in his life is that he’s finally found the courage to tell Lisa how he really feels about her.

Oh, and there’s a cat and a surprise behind a locked door.

All that — crammed into five thousand words.

My fellow authors have all written stories meant to entertain.  And we’ve all done it with the hope of raising money for a worthy cause. (And I’m thrilled to say my heroine isn’t the only woman billionaire!)

I hope your readers will take a chance and pick up The Billionaire Fling.

And, as a thank you for hosting me, I’m happy to give away a $5 Amazon Gift Card.  To the readers — what’s your favorite trope?  Even better, which would you like to see an author flip on its head? (Hint — I might just take your suggestion for my next charity story…)  Finally, I’ve got a new book coming out in March — so I’ll be back! (More trope flipping to come…)

The Billionaire Fling

Champagne, sports cars, private jets: these powerful billionaires can buy everything but love.

With the world at their command, how will they cope with the one person who wants their heart, not their money?

Strap on your red sole stilettos, pop open the champagne, and dive into our billionaires’ glittering happily ever afters.

Twenty titillating stories from USA Today best-selling and award-winning romance authors in a spicy billionaire collection curated by The New Romance Cafe, with ALL proceeds going to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation.

Authors:
Celia J. Lisbeth
DL Gallie
Emmy Dee
Gabbi Black
Heather Scarlett
JA Lafrance
Jackie Paxson
Janie Grey
Kat Parrish
Kathleen Ryder
Keighley Bradford
Kenna Shaw Reed
Kristine Charles
Molly Lachaussee
Nikita Bloom
Stacy-Deanne
Susan Horsnell
TL Hamilton
Toni Denise
Whimsy Nimsy

Grant’s Gambit by Gabbi Black

Mistress Miranda, after one of her most magnificent BDSM scenes, plans to relax and unwind in the safety of her luxury condo, high above her beloved city of Vancouver. She has rules about how intimate she’ll be with a submissive, and she plans to stick to those edicts.

Grant Adkins willingly submitted to the formidable Domme tonight. And she’d topped him in a fantastic cathartic scene. But he’s not ready to call it a night just yet. He’s breaking the rules by following her home, but he wants to have just one more encounter. Then he’ll let her go.

But when things heat up, his walking away in the morning feels far more difficult than either planned.

Grant’s Gambit is an erotic 5k short story with elements of BDSM, a cathartic scene, and a surprise pile of money.

Links:
Universal link:  https://books2read.com/u/3n5Nro
Amazon US:  https://www.amazon.com/Billionaire-Fling-Contemporary-Romance-Collection-ebook/dp/B0B1Z7QX2M
Add it to GoodReads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61161998-the-billionaire-fling

About the Author

Even though Gabbi Black is a firm believer in happy endings, she makes her characters work for it in every romance she writes, no matter what the genre. From contemporary to BDSM, they are penned early in the morning in her home in beautiful British Columbia while her trusty ChinPoo dog keeps her company. She also writes gay romances as Gabbi Grey and contemporary small-town romances as Gabbi Powell.

Personal links:
Website:   https://gabbiblack.com/
Newsletter sign-up:  https://sendfox.com/gabbi
Bookbub:  https://www.bookbub.com/profile/2763198834
Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/authorgabbiblack/
Facebook (page): https://www.facebook.com/Author-Gabbi-Black-106666354460589/
Pinterest:  https://www.pinterest.ca/authorgabbiblack/boards/
Twitter:  https://twitter.com/GabbiAuthor

If you didn’t already know, I’m fast at work on my next Montana Bounty Hunter story, Mica. It’s scheduled for release on February 28th.

I’m having fun with the story, I hope you will too. Naturally, we meet our hero in the middle of a takedown of a skip. I love dropping my heroes and heroines in the middle of the action. Action scenes fly by fast, and there are so many things that can go wrong. I hope you enjoy meeting Mica. He hasn’t met his love interest yet, but she will make a big impression. 🙂

Be sure to get to the end of this post. I have a big ole list of contests you still have time to enter!

Montana Bounty Hunters: Dead Horse, Montana — Mica

MONTANA BOUNTY HUNTERS:
DEAD HORSE, MT
Authentic Men… Real Adventures…

Mica Ford wasn’t one to hold grudges. At least not these days. Grudges required fury and bile, and he’d had his fill of pointless anger and heartburn.

However, he was beginning to get a bit perturbed by the crew of bounty hunters working out of an office in Dead Horse, Montana. This was the third time they’d crept into one of his stakeouts. Twice now, he’d had to withdraw from a takedown and let them score his target. There were just too many of them, and again, he hadn’t wanted a dustup, wasn’t looking for a fight. But this time, he’d be damned if he let them scoop a third bounty right from under his nose.

This time, his target was one Norman P. Rudd. The bounty was high enough that Mica could live off the proceeds for a good four months. According to the bail bond company’s description, Norman had failed to appear before the judge to begin his trial for numerous charges stemming from an incident where Norman had gone “postal” on a neighbor whose political campaign posters didn’t share his flavor of affiliation.

Norman hadn’t stopped at simply pulling up the neighbor’s signs and burning them in a bonfire in the middle of the man’s front yard. No, he’d taken a tree branch, set the end on fire, and then torched his neighbor’s house and RV and then set wood he’d stacked beside a propane tank on fire. The explosion from the tank had rattled and broken windows throughout the neighborhood, including Norman’s. Even before the firetrucks and police arrived, the neighbor had pulled in front of his house, jumped out of his pickup, and the two men had entered into a brawl. The neighbor had been horrified by the damage to his home and belongings, but worse, his favorite blue tick hound had been locked inside the house when it was set on fire.

The house and RV? Mica wouldn’t have bothered to do more than shake his head and collect the insurance—belongings didn’t matter much, and you couldn’t take them with you when you left this world, but he could understand someone goin’ loco over the murder of a four-legged best friend. For that alone, Norman was a piece of shit who deserved to spend the rest of his days in jail. However, since he’d lost his mind and fired up his neighbor’s property, Norman had proven himself to be a bit smarter, evading police and bounty hunters while hiding out in the Absaroka Range. Mica couldn’t guess his intentions, but he suspected Norman thought he could hopscotch through mountains and forests to hide out there for a while until he lost some weight and grew a beard—something to disguise his ugly, memorable features. His mistake had been coming in for a night to shower and sleep in a soft bed.

Mica had tracked him to a motel in Belgrade, Montana. The night manager had just confirmed that someone of Norman’s broad build had indeed rented a room at the end of the building. He’d asked for menus from restaurants that offered delivery, then he’d kept quiet, not budging from his room.

Mica had already walked the perimeter of the building and tried peeking into the room, but the curtains were pulled closed and the frosted glaze on the bathroom window behind the building didn’t allow him to make out anything other than the fact there was a light turned on inside the room.

Before he could bust in the door, he had to know that Norman was inside. So, he’d hunkered down in his truck, waiting for his break, hoping Norman ordered food before the last restaurant closed for the night.

He watched through his tinted windows as another SUV and a truck pulled into the lot. He groaned when he saw the female hunter, Marti of naked-body-shop-video fame, enter the motel office. When she’d come out, she’d scanned the parking lot, and her gaze had locked on his vehicle.

So, she knew someone else was on Norman’s trail. Mica snorted. They might have the advantage of more hunters to enter the chase, but he had the better vantage, parked right in front of Norman’s room while they had to park farther down the row.

A small compact sedan entered the lot. It had a lighted sign on top of it, advertising Papa Ralph’s Pizza. So, Norman wasn’t starting his diet anytime soon. The sedan moved slowly down the row of parking spaces, then stopped right behind Mica’s vehicle. A car door slammed, and a lanky teenager ran toward the door, carrying an insulated pizza delivery bag that looked like it held two pizza boxes. Mica partially lowered his driver’s side window so he could listen as he watched the kid knock on the motel room door.

The lights inside doused. The kid stiffened and backed away a step, his head turning side to side like he was unsure of his safety. Read the rest of this entry »

My new book, The Pepper Peach Murder (from Wild Rose Press), is a cozy mystery—the first I’ve tried. My other books have all been romances, contemporary and paranormal. But to me, cozy mysteries are also romantic mysteries. Or anyway, they should be, as far as I’m concerned.

When I told friends and family that I was working on a cozy mystery, a lot of them asked me what a cozy was exactly. Some things about cozies are easy to explain. Most of them are written from the heroine’s point of view, and a lot them are written in first person. The heroine usually has some kind of interesting occupation: there are lots of bakers, for example, and caterers and crafters and owners of bookstores or country inns. But the image a lot of readers have of the cozy heroine is Jessica Fletcher, a decidedly unromantic lady who wrote mysteries in Cabot Cove, Maine. Jessica did occasionally have a date or two, but she was much more into solving mysteries than dancing in the moonlight.

As a romance writer, I didn’t want to limit my heroine that way. I wanted her to have a love life along with her jam making and murder solving because that was the kind of book I wanted to read myself. Donna Andrews’ Meg has her Michael; Kerry Greenwood’s Corinna has her Daniel. And my Roxy has her Nate.

Now since this is a mystery rather than a romance, Roxy also has a murder to solve. But since it’s a romantic mystery, solving the mystery will involve solving Roxy’s love life. She had a bad experience as a line cook in Denver and has come back to her hometown of Shavano, Colorado, to restart. But Roxy has concentrated on getting her jam business off the ground rather than her relationships with men until she meets chef Nate Robicheaux at the local farmers market. The two hit it off immediately. There’s just one problem (other than Roxy’s nervousness about getting back on her feet romantically): another local chef, Brett Holmes, wants Roxy on his arm and in his bed, and he won’t take no for an answer.

When someone kills Brett in his restaurant kitchen, Roxy’s the logical suspect since she and Brett had a shouting match in front of the farmers market vendors. Now, she’s got to clear her name and keep her business afloat while she and Nate discover just how much she’s back on her game again romantically.

There’s a lot on her plate, but Roxy can handle it. After all, she’s the Jam Queen of Shavano County, and she wants her romance to be like her jam: sweet, hot, and very tasty.

~MB

UPDATE: The winner is…bn100!
*~*~*

Born in the segregated South of Heilberger, Alabama in 1927, Coretta Scott’s early life was shaped by her family’s long history in fighting against racial injustice. In 1945, she entered Antioch College in Ohio to study music, all the while actively engaging in civil rights activity through the college’s Race Relations and Civil Liberties Committees and the local chapter of the NAACP.

She won a scholarship to the New England Conservatory of Music and moved to Boston in 1952. There she met Martin Luther King Jr. They married in 1953 in a ceremony in which she had the vow to obey her husband removed. After completing her degree in voice and piano in 1954, she moved with her husband to Montgomery, Alabama.

In 1968, she did not allow the tragedy of his assassination to stop her pursuit of justice. She established The King Center to advance his legacy and ideas. To make sure that legacy was not whitewashed, she fought to make sure quotes reflecting his stance on the Vietnam War were included in the King Memorial dedicated in Washington DC in 2011.

In the 1980s, she drew comparisons between the fight against apartheid and the Civil Rights Movement. After meeting with Winnie Mandela and Allan Boesak, she came back to the US and urged then-President Regan to approve economic sanctions against South Africa.

In 1983, she urged amending the Civil Rights Act to include gays and lesbians as a protected class. She called on the civil rights community to join in the struggle against homophobia and anti-gay bias in 1993. In 2003, she made history by inviting the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force to take part in observances of the 40th anniversary of the March on Washington and her husband’s “I Have A Dream Speech.” It was the first time that an LGBTQIA rights group had been invited to a major event of the African-American community.

Having been an advocate for peace as early as 1957 when she helped found The Committee for a Sane Nuclear Policy, it came as no surprise she spoke out against the attack on Iraq in 1993. In 2004, the government of India awarded her the Gandhi Peace Prize.

In 2005, she allowed Antioch College to name a center after her. The Coretta Scott King Center for Cultural and Intellectual Freedom addresses issues of race, class, gender, diversity, and social justice. She received numerous awards and recognitions for her activism before she died in 2006.

Moneta Sleet Jr.’s Pulitzer prize winning image of Coretta’s stoic expression while she holds her youngest daughter on her lap during her husband’s funeral is indelibly branded in my memory. Yet, I hope you can see from what I just shared that she enhanced that dignified image by living the life of a courageous activist whose impact rippled across the nation and in the world.

For a chance at a $10 Amazon gift card, share your thoughts on the life of Coretta Scott King or any courageous woman you admire.

Better To Marry Than To Burn by Michal Scott

Blurb: Wife Wanted: Marital relations as necessary. Love not required nor sought…

A bridal lottery seems the height of foolishness to ex-slave Caesar King, but his refusal to participate in the town council’s scheme places him in a bind. He has to get married to avoid paying a high residence fine or leave the Texas territory. After losing his wife in childbirth, Caesar isn’t ready for romance. A woman looking for a fresh start without any emotional strings is what he needs.

Queen Esther Payne, a freeborn black from Philadelphia, has been threatened by her family for her forward-thinking, independent ways. Her family insists she marry. Her escape comes in the form of an ad. If she must marry, it will be on her terms. But her first meeting with the sinfully hot farmer proves an exciting tussle of wills that stirs her physically, intellectually, and emotionally.

In the battle of sexual one-upmanship that ensues, both Caesar and Queen discover surrender can be as fulfilling as triumph.

Excerpt:

“Our children?” She swiveled in her seat. “You made no mention of wanting children, just marital relations as necessary. I understood that to mean intercourse.”

“I wrote I wanted to leave a legacy.”

“A legacy. Not a dynasty.”

“Legacy. Dynasty. Is there really so sharp a distinction?”

“To my mind there is. I understood you meant to affect future generations—endow schools, found churches, create civic associations. I didn’t realize that meant children. I agreed to having sex, not having children.”

 “Of course I want children.” His brows grew heavy as he frowned. “Doesn’t having sex lead to having children?”

“Not with the right precautions.”

His frown deepened. “Precautions?”

“There are many ways to prevent your seed from taking root, Mr. King.”

“I want children, Mrs. King.”

Her lips twisted and her brow furrowed, but she kept her silence.

“All right,” she said. “You can have children with any woman you like. I won’t stop you. I free you from any claim to fidelity.”

“Legacy—or dynasty if you will—means legitimacy. No bastard will carry my name, not when I have a wife to bear me children.”

“I see.”

Her tone signaled she didn’t.

Buylink: https://amzn.to/2KTaGPH

UPDATE: The winner is…Tamye Whitener!
*~*~*

My day starts with a cup of coffee. I need a couple of cups just to get going in the morning. Then I have another around noon because I don’t dare have one later in the day or I’ll be up to the wee hours of the morning.

Coffee is more than just my jumpstart. Always has been. When I was in the Army, we called it “Lifers’ Blood,” and yes, we drank out of an urn of coffee that kept it warm all day, but the coffee had the consistency of molasses by the time the afternoon rolled around. Still, we drank it. Actually, it was a badge of honor to sip a cup of the sludge without grimacing.

These days, my daughter and I sit sipping coffee outside in the morning, rain or shine, warm or cold weather, while the dogs have their morning run. We talk about what we’re doing that day, gossip about family and friends, share news about politics and celebrities—all over our favorite beverage.

I’ve decided that since my daily brew is the center of so much of our lives, that we deserve an upgrade. For convenience’s sake, we both have Keurigs. Truly, it makes terrible coffee. We’ve tried different brands, but they all pretty much taste the same coming out. We do love how fast we can get our cup in the morning, but I’m willing to put in the time to produce a decent cup for our morning “share” session.

Years ago, I had an espresso/cappuccino maker. It was a pain in the ass to operate and clean. However, espressos, cappuccinos, and lattes are my favorites when I go out to someplace that actually makes a decent cup. Hell, I’d also love a coffeemaker that makes a decent plain cup of coffee.

So, for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card, help me out. Share your recommendations for improvements. Do you love a particular brand of K-cup? Do you have a coffeemaker you love? Do you have a recipe for a fancy coffee that I could try making with what I have?

Folks a while back were saying blogs were dead. That no one reads them anymore. That they’re a waste of an author’s time.

I didn’t believe it then, and I don’t now. Lately, what with the chaos over at Twitter, the rumblings are...blogs may be the only social media platform we can control. When something goes sideways, if you’ve already built your online blog community, you still have a place to connect with readers.

I’m lucky in that I enjoy blogging. I’ve been doing it for years! I open up my daily post, see that white space, ready to be filled, and I let my fingers do the talking. Yes, I still have Facebook, Pinterest, and Instagram. I have a TikTok account I haven’t yet put to use, but in the mornings, when I start my day, I find my rhythm here. Sure, sometimes I’m only posting games (I love puzzles!) or talking about my wacky life, my collections of junk that are so dear to me, my animals, my family… Everything that’s me. Do I overshare? Probably. I try to make it fun. I’m generally a very happy, upbeat person, and I hope that comes across. I love leaving folks with a smile.

So anyway, I do have a purpose today. I thought I’d remind you all that you can SUBSCRIBE to this blog. What does that mean? Every time I post a new blog, you get it sent directly to your email inbox. You don’t miss my free stories, the notices about my new books coming down the pike (what does that phrase mean?!), contests for gift cards. I ask you questions, and I READ your answers. I do love to get to know you. Plus, I love to share this space with other authors, so you get to meet a wider community of writers. I vary it as much as possible so it’s not boring! 

How do you subscribe? Look to the left of this post. See that FOLLOW MY BLOG at the top? Enter your email, and you’re done. Yes, I post once a day. Every day. You can decide to delete it if the topic isn’t to your taste. I try to alert you in the subject line when there are contests, excerpts, guest bloggers, puzzles. You can choose the content you want to open.

There. That’s my PSA (public service announcement). Now, go about your day. And remember, there are several open contests, a couple of them involving fun puzzles just below today’s post. Have fun, and I’ll see you tomorrow.

See? That wasn’t so painful, was it? ~DD