Some things we take for granted. For example, it wasn’t until approximately a year ago that I realized that white perch wasn’t sold in grocery stores or fish markets—at least, not legally. And it wasn’t until a friend made a passing comment that alerted me to the fact. It wasn’t anything new, though. I simply had never taken the time to pay attention. Why? Because, whenever I wanted perch, we just fished it out of the bayou. I’d never attempted to purchase it, and never gave thought to it not being sold. After all, it’s not like there’s a shortage of white perch. Since I always had access to the fish, I assumed (and we all know what is said about assuming anything) that everyone had the same access. Wrong!
“Assuming” is the reason for this post. Yeah, I know white perch has nothing to do with Mardi Gras, but in the tangled convolutions of that thing I call a brain, I connected the two. See, growing up in South Louisiana, I assumed (once again) that everyone knew about Mardi Gras… That is, until I started hearing some strangeness that caused me to raise an eyebrow. I mean, South Louisiana isn’t the only place to celebrate Mardi Gras (which, by the way, most refer to as carnival). Yet, I’ve come to discover that there are many misconceptions about what Mardi Gras is and why it’s celebrated.
Now, I’ve tackled this subject before on my Creole Bayou blog, but since Mardi Gras season just kicked off on January 6, I thought it would be appropriate to do a brief refresher for those interested. If you’re interested in the importance of January 6, please visit my post, Is It Mardi Gras Yet? for a deep dive into it. This post will focus on an overview of the basics of Carnival. Let’s jump-start this with answer the question: What is Mardi Gras? To answer this question, I must explain the translation of the term Mardi Gras and define Carnival. Read the rest of this entry »
I love movies. I’m sure a lot of you do, too. My tastes are “low brow.” I could care less about movies that win Oscars because of their “important” stories. I want to be entertained. Plus, I LOVE so-called “B-movies.” The more improbable and campier, the more I love them. I watched and waited in eager anticipation for every new Sharknado film. (My family did viewing parties!) I loved Eight Legged Freaks. Die Hard is my all-time favorite film. I’ve watched it over twenty times, I’m sure.
So, when I say I’m on the edge of my seat waiting for Renfield, you know it’s probably not the best movie ever made, but it hits me in all the feels—ridiculously over-the-top, funny, NICK CAGE, vampires… Do you remember Vampire’s Kiss with Cage when we weren’t entirely sure if he was becoming a vampire or was nuts? I loved, loved that movie. Now, he’s back as Dracula!
Watch the trailer!
And wow, the guy from Warm Bodies, Nicholas Hoult, (another favorite film of mine) is the main character! I can’t wait for its release on April 14th!
For a chance to win a $5 Amazon GC, tell me whether Renfield is something you’re eager to see. Also, share your favorite B-movie picks!
Well, I’m up at O-dark-thirty again. Dratted insomnia. I don’t ever fight it. So, this morning I went ahead and made a cup of coffee and headed in the dark to my computer. The house is quiet; I can Google without feeling guilty. LOL. So, yeah, I’m how old? Self-employed? And I still feel guilty not “working” when I power up.
I went to bed a little early for me last night feeling a little angry. Why? The ending of Star Trek: Enterprise! I’ve been binge-watching the older series for a while now. Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, Voyager. All were unique but the same. Know what I mean? I was comfortable with the progression. Enterprise was uncomfortable from the beginning. I liked the idea of it happening before Kirk and was intrigued with the idea of watching “the first” Enterprise begin the star-trekking adventures.
**WARNING SPOILERS**
Problems? I didn’t like the captain. Over the seasons, Captain Archer seemed…a bit irritated and sometimes too aggressive. While I’d found Janeway annoying the first season of Voyager, I came to admire her (after the “Rambo” episode, I loved her). Archer never had that moment where I came to accept his personality. I struggled through the first season, but the show caught me in the second. I loved the evolution of the conflict with the Xindi, and it was odd, but my favorite castmate wasn’t a “regular”. He was a frequent guest—an Andorian commander in the Imperial Guard named Shran. Over the 4 seasons, I actually found him and his mobile antennae to be quite sexy. 🙂
He had a fiery temper, was stubborn, but at heart he was an honorable alien male who loved deeply.
And what did they do to his character in the finale? They made him a criminal! I wanted to see him as an ambassador, having moved up the chain of command through his heroism and good deeds. Nope.
And what else did they do in that finale? They killed my favorite regular cast member, Trip. He never got his HEA with T’Pol—even after they lost their child and all the years they yearned for each other. In fact, the finale fast forwarded years and said they’d broken up six years prior. WTF?
Yeah. I’m not happy. And now, I have to start into the newer Trek series and hope the Powers that Be redeemed themselves. Okay, deep breath. That’s the end of my rant.
Tell me, have you ever been fighting mad over the ending of a series? Tell me about it for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
Saturday Puzzle
Following my Star Trek rant, here’s a picture of what my imagined first encounter would look like. Enjoy the puzzle!
The start of a new year is always exciting. The possibilities are limitless. It’s a time for introspection, for deciding what you want to accomplish in the coming year.
I don’t make resolutions, as such, but I do set some achievable goals. Professionally, I want to write at least three or four books, maybe more. Personally, I want to try my hand at a new hobby or two. If I decide it’s not for me, that’s all good. The goal is to push myself to try something different.
The new year is starting out on a high note with the release of HUNTER AVENGED, book 6 of my Forgotten Brotherhood series. I LOVE these immortal assassins. They aren’t the monsters lurking under the bed. They’re the ones that kill them. It takes one very special woman to win their heart.
So, what happens when Rivka, an angelic librarian on the run from Heavenly forces, is tracked by Sven—immortal Viking, deadly assassin, and one of the Forgotten Brotherhood? It’s not only their lives that are in danger but their hearts.
Hunter Avenged
Forgotten Brotherhood Book 6
It’s taken Viking hunter Sven Knutson six frustrating months to find her. To track down the angel responsible for compromising the Forgotten Brotherhood and waking the drakon. She may be clever. Resourceful. But no one ever gets away from Sven. Ever.
All Rivka longed for as an angel was a chance to serve on Earth and help humans. Instead, it all went impossibly, horribly wrong, and she still doesn’t understand how or even why. All she knows is that she’s on the run—not only from Heaven’s dangerous elite guard, but also from the Brotherhood, who want answers.
She might just have to trust the immortal Viking whose icy blue eyes make her feel almost wickedly human. Because someone wants Rivka dead and the Brotherhood eliminated. Someone powerful enough to take on the most dangerous assassins who have ever lived. Someone who could unleash the fury of both Heaven and Hell…and Rivka is the key.
Excerpt from Hunter Avenged…
His jaw and cheekbones were chiseled, his forehead high. The short cut of his hair added to the austerity of his features. There was no gentleness to be found. The leather coat he wore added to the rough image, made him seem even more imposing. A chill raced down her spine. This man would be a relentless opponent. He also wasn’t human, but she couldn’t tell what he was.
Time to leave.
Face tight, she tried to smile, knew it must appear fake, but it was the best she could manage. “If there’s nothing else, I have to get back to my tables.”
Her legs were shaky, her heart racing. This must be what a rabbit felt like when faced with a wolf. Running would be a mistake. He hadn’t moved a muscle, but the sense of being hunted was overwhelming.
Hunted.
You got this. You’ve gotten yourself out of tighter situations.
The reassurance did nothing to calm her. Sweat rolled down her spine even as a chill raised goose bumps on her arms. Spinning around, she’d taken a single step when he wrapped his hand around her wrist, chaining her in place. Heat spread out from where he held her, sliding up her arm.
“There is something else.” His deep voice slid inside her like hot fudge over ice cream, melting all resistance. It was startling to realize it was the first words he’d spoken. She’d done all the talking up until now.
Just take his order and leave. “What do you want?” It was a point of pride that her voice was level. Inside she was trembling like a leaf; not all of it was due to fear. Her attraction to him was unwanted but undeniable. It rather took her by surprise.
He rubbed his thumb over the pounding pulse in her wrist. The gentle action was at odds with the tension in his jaw.
N.J. Walters is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author who has always been a voracious reader, and now she spends her days writing novels of her own. Vampires, werewolves, dragons, assassins, time-travelers, seductive handymen, and next-door neighbors with smoldering good looks—all vie for her attention. It’s a tough life, but someone’s got to live it.
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)
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!
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.
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.
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 »
Hello Delilah!
