Cherry season is in full bloom, and this dessert is a real crowd
pleaser at small gatherings such as patio parties, book clubs or intimate bridal and baby
showers. This chocolatey, sweet treat will tempt even the most disciplined of
us. If cherry is your go-to fruit that makes your mouth think you’ve swallowed
a piece of heaven, then read on if you dare to concoct this sinful chunk of
bliss.

CHOCOLATE CHERRY
CHUNK LOAF

A bit of butter
for greasing the loaf pan 

Preheat oven to
350° F (175° C or 165° for fan ovens, Gas Mark 4).

Grease a 2 lb. (8
½ x 4 ¼ x 2 ½ inch) loaf pan.

Remove the pits
from the cherries and cut each one in half. Place cherries in a small bowl,
sprinkle the 1 teaspoon flour over top and toss gently.

Sift 1¼ cups
flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt into a medium bowl.

Stir in sugar,
chocolate chips, and walnuts. Set dry ingredients aside.

In a large bowl,
whisk together yogurt, eggs, vanilla, and oil.

Add yogurt mixture
to dry ingredients. Beat with a wooden spoon until all the flour is mixed in
and the batter is smooth.

Gently fold in the
flour-coated cherries.

Pour batter into prepared
loaf pan. Bake for 40-50 minutes or until cake tester inserted in the center of
the cake comes out clean.

Cool in pan for 20
minutes, then remove cake and place it on a wire rack to cool completely.

THE GLAZE

Pour icing sugar
into a bowl. Whisk in maraschino cherry juice.

Gradually whisk in
water, a drop or two at a time, until a smooth, drizzle-able consistency is
reached.

Whisk in food
coloring, if using.

 Here’s a glimpse of the premises of both my young adult series:

      The Last Timekeepers Time Travel Adventures 

         Children are the key to our future. And now, they are the only hope for our past. 

Chosen by an Atlantean Magus to be Timekeepers-legendary time travelers sworn to keep history from the evil Belial-five classmates are sent into the past to restore balance, and bring order back into the world, one mission at a time. 

Theme gardens can be fun for adventurous gardeners who want
to shake things up.

Colorful annuals. Their raison d’etra, reason for living, is to   bloom and
make seeds. To keep them full of their bright and   beautiful blossoms frequent culling
of the old blooms is the s   secret. Paying attention to color combinations will
enhance   bedding petunias such as blue and yellow; red, white and blue;   primary
colors-red, yellow and blue; all pastels.

Perennials are friends forever. The
trick here is to plant staggered bloomers. Daffodils and tulips for spring give
way to lupine and peonies in April and May. June is for roses (and brides) and
July owns lilies. Hibiscus and other members of the family (Rose of Sharon) for
late summer, and we all appreciate summer’s wind up with splashes of intensely
colored mums and sunflowers. There are many beautiful perennials to be planted
in between. Careful attention to foliage varieties is also important for a
successful perennial bed: spiky Crocosmia, spreading Dianthus, and pretty
round-leafed Baptismia australis which has an herbal gray cast to its foliage.

Butterfly and humming bird gardens are
always fun. Certainly the tiny hummers appreciate blooms where they can dip in
and steal a drop of nectar, but I’ve seen them take a tiny taste of flat but
colorful yarrow. My son gifts me a huge fuchsia for Mother’s Day which is the
very day I usually spot the first humming bird. They love this plant! Hummers
prefer trumpet shaped blooms they can dip their long bills to drink the nectar,
but I have observed them sipping from a daisy.

Shade gardens are wonderful underneath
shaded walkways.  Besides the enormous
varieties of hosta, spring bulbs can be followed with blue bells and other
shade loving perennials. Brunneria is a precious substitute for hosta. Deer
treat it with disdain. Begonias have a large variety for annual shade; my
favorite is non-stop begonia in their vivid colors. Spring blooming shrubs are
glorious such as rhododendrons, azaleas, dogwood and many others that liven up
the woods before the trees leaf out. 

Cutting gardens are
wonderful for those who appreciate fresh cut bouquets for inside. Reserve a bed
especially for: gladiola, tall zinnias, phlox, sunflowers, snapdragons,
lisianthus, lilies, just a few of the varieties that are splendid cut flowers.

… which leads me to call attention to my latest Cozy
Adventure/ Mystery, Whispers of Danger and Love. 

The heroine is a
landscape architect who speaks gardening. She struggles with a client who
demands a cutting garden mid summer, (and a hunky detective who seems bound to
destroy her plants.) I enjoyed relaxing in her garden even as I created it from
my own imaginings. It was also fun to watch the sparks fly between a couple who
knew each other as children but must readjust their thinking as adults.

Emma Lane is a gifted author who writes cozy mysteries as Janis Lane, Regency as Emma, and spice as Sunny Lane. 

She lives in Western New York where winter is snowy, spring arrives with rave reviews, summer days are long and velvet, and fall leaves are riotous in color. At long last she enjoys the perfect bow window for her desk where she is treated to a year-round panoramic view of nature. Her computer opens up a fourth fascinating window to the world. Her patient husband is always available to help with a plot twist and encourage Emma to never quit. Her day job is working with flowers at Herbtique and Plant Nursery, the nursery she and her son own. 

Look for information about writing and plants on Emma’s new website. Leave a comment or a gardening question and put a smile on Emma’s face.

Stay connected to Emma on Facebook and Twitter. Be sure to check out the things that make Emma smile on Pinterest.

If you haven’t kissed your significant other, your children, your parents, or other family members today, get offline and do so. After you read our blog, of course, because July 6th, is International Kissing Day.

• Passionate kisses
the goodnight kiss that lasts forever when you’re young and head over heels in love
the French kiss 

the hickey kiss 

the upside-down Spiderman kiss 

the bittersweet kiss, often shared between star crossed lovers as they leave each other 

• Affectionate kisses 

kissing the boo boos away 

the top of the head kiss 

the forehead kiss, a motherly sort of kiss, 

the awkward first kiss 

• Greeting kisses 

the European double cheek kiss of greeting 

the kiss on the cheek, often the hello and goodbye kisses we give friends and family 

• Insincere kisses 

the betrayal kiss of Judas 

the air kiss often practiced as a sham action 

the kiss of death 

• Kisses that don’t involve touching lips 

the Eskimo kiss, rubbing noses instead of touching lips 

the butterfly kiss, done by fluttering the eyelashes against the cheek
hand kissing, a lost art except in historical romances which can be romantic or a greeting to a lady 

the kiss you smack into your hand and throw to someone 

body kisses (‘Nuff said’)

Writers of romance often concern themselves with the more passionate kisses, but there’s something to be said for using sweeter kisses in our stories too. Not every kiss shared by a couple is going to set off fireworks. Sometimes you need the love without the rollercoaster ride to add some levels to the romance. Consider incorporating some sweeter, more affectionate kisses in your love scenes. You might be surprised at what happens between your characters when they hold back a little on the ardor.

Have you kissed someone today?

Perhaps a book we’ve written may help set the mood.

Susan Trowbridge is the victim of mistaken identity, trapped in the past by a ghost and a haunted wedding gown. To return home she must discover the identity of the ghost’s murderer. Can Susan stop the murder, or will history repeat itself, with her as the victim this time? And if she does stop the murder, must she return home and leave the man she has come to love? 

Duncan Hawthorn is a man battling his own demons. But when Susan falls into his life, Duncan finds himself inexplicably attracted to a woman he thought he hated. Should he believe she is in danger? Should he believe her irrational claims that she is from the future? Either way, he realizes he will lose the woman who has become his salvation and his true love.

 

Second
Editions Coming Soon:

 

Ghosts and
Gardenias

 

The
Promised One The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 1

Blood
Brothers The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 2

Son of the
Moonless Night The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 3

The
Mercenary and the Shifters The Turning Stone Chronicles Book 4 

 

C.D. Hersh–Two hearts creating everlasting love stories.

 

Putting words and stories on paper is second nature to award-winning co-authors C.D. Hersh. 

They’ve written separately since they were teenagers and discovered their unique, collaborative abilities in the mid-90s. As high school sweethearts and husband and wife, Catherine and Donald believe in true love and happily ever after. 

Social Media Info:

Website: https://cdhersh.wordpress.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/cdhershauthor

Amazon Author Page: http://amazon.com/C-D-Hersh/e/B00DV5L7ZI

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AuthorCDHersh

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/CDHersh

Blog: https://cdhersh.wordpress.com/blog-2/

When my dad was 92, he
got sick.  With the exception of some
childhood bouts of pneumonia—the result of growing up in a house full of
chain-smoking coal miners—he’d been robustly healthy his entire life. That he
survived the twin assaults of Valley Fever and pneumonia was surprising. Before
dying just a week shy of 97, he still took ballroom dance lessons, required not
a single medication, and read the New York Times every
day.

My
father was an ice dancer until he was 80. Then he took up ballroom.

However,
my dad was not the same as he was before his illness. His mind was altered,
leaving him fuzzy in the short-term memory department. Ironically, and like
many elderly people, he has no trouble recalling in vivid detail events that
occurred many decades ago. The Japanese kamikaze that flew so close to his
destroyer escort he could see the young pilot’s eyes before the plane narrowly
missed the ship and plunged into the sea. The sailor plucked from dark,
oil-slicked water who lay in his arms and asked for a cigarette before dying.
The shipmate who worked as Mickey Rooney’s stunt double who sometimes climbed
the mast and performed swan dives into the ocean. And the bodies of downed
pilots, in a neat row on the deck, tarp covered save for their feet which
rocked rhythmically as the ship swayed beneath the night sky, waiting to be
buried at sea.

My
father served on a destroyer escort during World War II. The men of the USS
Ulvert Moore fought in numerous battles, including Iwo Jima and Okinawa.

Bright
and clear is another memory my dad carries, one of a ten-year-old growing up in
the mining town of North Irwin, Pennsylvania. The small dwelling on Penn Avenue
housed immigrants, Irish in my father’s case. But Italians, and Poles, and
Russians, and others lived on the street, as well, all sharing something in
common. They were poor.

“Dad’s
taking you to a ballgame,” his mother called.

Clad in
knickers with clasps below the knees, brown shoes and socks, and a white
button-down, my father balked when she handed him a sack lunch bearing a
chicken sandwich and a small red apple.

“I
wanna get lunch when I get there,” he said. “Everyone buys their lunch at the
ballgame.”

My
grandfather— thin, balding, blue eyes dancing beneath the brim of a fedora—smiled,
then ushered my dad to the train station. There was no money to make the trip
to Pittsburg’s Forbes Field, but my grandfather worked for the railroad, one of
the few members of the Butler clan to avoid laboring in the mines, so they rode the train for free.

My dad
still clutched his sack lunch on the street car that would drop them in front
of the stadium. “I wanted to hide it,” he said. “I put it under the seat
because I didn’t want people to see it.”

After
disembarking at Forbes Field, they were caught in an excited wave of baseball
fans rushing to get into the game. When they settled into their seats, my dad
tucked the brown bag out of sight.

The
game got underway, but then a strange murmuring swept through the crowd. My dad
turned and, up in the stands on the third-base side, he saw a couple
approaching.

“The
man was young, dashing. Black hair. Big smile. Well-dressed. She was a
beautiful lady. Blonde. She looked like a movie star. People were waving at
them.”

And
there was something else.

“He was
carrying a two-handled picnic basket.”

“What
are you looking at?” my grandfather asked. “I think there’s gonna be a squeeze
play.”

But my
dad kept staring at the couple.

“Paul,
you have to watch the game. Is there something wrong?” My grandfather turned.

“I
don’t understand why anyone would bring a picnic basket to a ballgame unless
they were real poor. He doesn’t look poor.”

“Paul,
he isn’t poor!” my grandfather said. “That’s Billy Conn, the Light Heavyweight
Champion of the World.”

Conn,
an Irish-American boxer and local favorite called The Pittsburgh Kid, was known
for being cocky and brash, his fights against Joe Louis, and his 63-11-1
record.

My dad
continued to keep his brown bag hidden beneath the seat as he watched the game
that day, taking a bite occasionally, hoping no one would notice. He wondered
about the glamorous couple, sneaking peeks as they snacked on their
picnic-basket lunch. He thought about what it meant to be poor.

A
chance sighting of world champion boxer Billy Conn had my then ten-year-old
father pondering what it meant to be poor.

“I
should have been proud to be able to go to the ballgame,” my dad said, blinking
blue eyes that look just like mine. “I learned that I shouldn’t worry about
what other people might think of me.”

I
thought about his wise words, a lesson he learned at the tender age of ten, a
time he still recalls so vividly.

Thanks to the G.I. Bill,
my father would earn a bachelor’s degree from Penn State University. When I was
eight, I watched from the balcony as he received a master’s degree from Seton
Hall. Because of his stint in the Navy and his education, we were never poor,
something that, as a ten-year-old, he might have been comforted to know.

Here is a brief peek at Anne’s latest release.

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to the Graves Registration Service where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Praise for Your Forgotten Sons

“Although a defty crafted work of original fiction, “Your Forgotten Sons” by Anne Montgomery is inspired by a true story. An original and inherently interesting read from start to finish, “Your Forgotten Sons” will prove to be an immediate and enduringly appreciated pick.”  Midwest Book Review

“This was a quick, riveting read that really challenged me to think differently about our servicemen and women, especially those who take on the jobs that don’t get heroically depicted in the media or news…I really highly recommend this book to anyone that is looking for a different take on American history. I left it with a newfound appreciation for the unsung heroes.” Bekah C NetGalley 

“This is the truth. It’s gritty and painful and bittersweet – and true.  When you think you’ve read every perspective of WWII, along comes Bud to break your heart.” Bridgett Siter Former Military Reporter

“Anne Montgomery writes a strong story and I was hooked from the first page. It had a great concept and I enjoyed that this was inspired by a true story…It was written perfectly and I was invested in the story. Anne Montgomery has a great writing style and left me wanting to read more.” –  Kathryn McLeer NetGalley 

Available at Amazon, Apple Books, Barnes & Noble, Google Books, and Kobo

Anne Montgomery has worked as a television sportscaster, newspaper and magazine writer, teacher, amateur baseball umpire, and high school football referee. She worked at WRBL‐TV in Columbus, Georgia, WROC‐TV in Rochester, New York, KTSP‐TV in Phoenix, Arizona, ESPN in Bristol, Connecticut, where she anchored the Emmy and ACE award‐winning SportsCenter, and ASPN-TV as the studio host for the NBA’s Phoenix Suns. Montgomery has been a freelance and staff writer for six publications, writing sports, features, movie reviews, and archeological pieces.

When she can, Anne indulges in her passions: rock collecting, scuba diving, football refereeing, and playing her guitar.

Learn more about Anne Montgomery on her website and Wikipedia. Stay connected on Facebook, Linkedin, and Twitter.

With the advent of fresh summer vegetables cropping up in our farmers’ fields, Pasta Primavera is a perfect warm weather dinner, especially with a glass of cool, crisp white wine. 

The
word primavera means spring-like in Italian, but don’t be fooled that this dish
originated in Italy. Nope! Both Canada and the US claim the honor of creating
Pasta Primavera. No one knows for sure which country invented this delicious
dish, but the fact is that it didn’t come to be until the 1970s. 

This
recipe is for 2. If you are serving more simply increase the ingredients
accordingly. Don’t prepare extra for another meal because the veggies get mushy
when reheated. 

Pasta
Primavera

Cook
pasta per package directions al dente, no longer. Drain into a strainer,
retaining ⅔ cup of water for the sauce. Cover tortellini to keep warm. 

Slice
carrots in thirds lengthwise. You do this because carrots take so much longer
to cook. Slice red onion into thin rings, but not too thin, then cut in half. 

Remove seeds from pepper then cut into strips
lengthwise. Set aside. Freeze the extra for another recipe. 

Cut
asparagus into 1-inch pieces. Add to pepper bowl. Slice cucumber/zucchini about
¼ inch thick then add to pepper mix. 

Pour
oil into a Dutch oven set on medium-high heat. You need this size pan to
properly blend the veggies. Stir in carrots and onion, sauté until crisp
tender, 6 – 8 minutes. Stir often and adjust heat to prevent burning. 

Lower
heat to medium. Add butter, asparagus, pepper slices, and mushrooms. Season
with garlic, black pepper, and lemon juice. 

Gently
blend in pasta and cheese. Add small amounts of reserved water to thin sauce to
your liking.

Heat through. Sprinkle on
parsley then serve.

May you enjoy all the days of your life filled with good friends, laughter, and seated around a well-laden table!

Sloane

Taylor’s cookbooks, Hot Mean Wear Aprons, Date Night Dinners, Date Night Dinners Italian Style, Sizzling Summer, and Recipes to Create Holidays Extraordinaire are released by Toque & Dagger Publishing and available at all book vendors. 

In book two of Mysterious Tales from
Fairy Falls, Blackflies and Blueberries,
I wrote about Hart Stewart—a teenage psychometrist who has no problem ‘reading’
the absorbed energy from an object like a ring or watch but struggles with the
most basic reading skills. He finds a ring that pulls him into the past to
witness a woman’s murder that has gone unsolved for over a year. That woman was
Diana MacGregor’s mother, and when Diana discovers that Hart is in possession
of the ring and shares the intimate details of her mother’s murder through his
psychic ability, Diana strikes a deal with him. She’ll teach Hart how to read
and write if he helps find her mother’s killer.

Blackflies &
Blueberries, Book 2; Mysterious Tales from Fairy Falls

The only witness
left to testify against an unsolved crime in Fairy Falls isn’t a person…

City born and bred, Hart
Stewart possesses the gift of psychometry—the psychic ability to discover facts
about an event or person by touching inanimate objects associated with them.
Since his mother’s death, seventeen-year-old Hart has endured homelessness, and
has learned ways to keep his illiteracy under wraps. He eventually learns of a
great-aunt living in Fairy Falls, and decides to leave the only life he’s ever
known for an uncertain future.

Diana MacGregor lives in
Fairy Falls. Her mother was a victim of a senseless murder. Only Diana’s
unanswered questions and her grief keeps her going, until Hart finds her
mother’s lost ring and becomes a witness to her murder.

Through Hart’s psychic
power, Diana gains hope for justice. Their investigation leads them into the
corrupt world threatening Fairy Falls. To secure the town’s future, Hart and
Diana must join forces to uncover the shocking truth, or they risk losing the
true essence of Fairy Falls forever.

Excerpt: 

For over a year
now, Diana had wondered, prayed, and longed for any information regarding her
mother’s murder. And now this guy shows up, who claims he has these psychic
powers that can communicate with objects. Objects like mom’s ring. Diana
pressed her lips together. An object that had been there, at the scene of the
crime, a viable witness to a heinous act. It all seemed so far-fetched, so out
there. Yet what did Hart have to gain from all this? This wasn’t a fortune
telling session, this was real. So was Hart for real?

“Who are you,
anyway?” Brook asked. “The sorcerer’s apprentice?”

Hart threw her
a strange look. “No. My name’s Hart Stewart. I’m Gertie Ellis’s great-nephew.”

Diana snapped
out of her self-induced trance. Gertie Ellis? Not the same Gertie Ellis who
was Dan Boone’s only alibi? No. This is all too much. It was information
overload to the power of ten. Diana thought she heard Donovan mumble ‘Uh-oh’ as
he took a step back. He swung the golf club behind his back, as if anticipating
her next move, but Donovan would have never have guessed what was about to happen
next, because what came out of her mouth shocked even Diana. “Name your price,
I’ll pay you whatever you ask. You can even have my car, if you want it.”

Donovan dropped
the golf club.

Brook gasped.

Hart snapped
his head back. “Pay me? Pay me for what?”

“To find my
mother’s killer,” Diana replied. “Let’s face facts. You’re the only person who
has these special psychic connections and no one else has been able to solve
her murder. Look, I’ve got all the information on my mother’s murder, I’ve kept
impeccable files, know the suspects, and can help you get anything you’d need.
What do you say?”

“Your…your
car?” Donovan muttered.

“Are you sure
you want to do this?” Brook asked, concerned.

Diana held her
hand out toward Hart. “Do we have a deal?”

Dumbfounded,
Hart looked at Diana’s offered hand, then glanced back to her face, searching
for a hint of sincerity. He nodded. “I’ll help you, if you help me.”

Startled, Diana
arched her thin, fair brows. “Help you? How?”

Hart took a
deep breath. “My mother was murdered too. In Toronto, just over a year ago, in
our apartment. Nothing was taken. She had no enemies to speak of and we weren’t
rich. All I have is a letter my great-aunt kept from when mom was my age. Maybe
it will help answer some questions, maybe it won’t.”

Diana nodded.
“So what does it say?”

Hart cast his
eyes to the ground. His face reddened, his hands balled at his sides. He took
another deep breath. “I…I don’t know,” he replied, his voice cracking. “I
can’t—”

Diana inclined
her head. “Can’t what?”

Hart’s eyes
locked with Diana’s. His chin trembled as he whispered, “Read.”

Silence, except
for the sudden, chilly gust of wind coming off of the lake.

Donovan broke
it. “Dude, did you just that say you can’t—”

“Donovan!”
Brook elbowed him in the ribs. “Don’t be so insensitive!”

Donovan rubbed
his side, and nodded. “Dude, you’re illiterate?”

Brook rolled
her eyes. “That’s not what I meant, you bonehead.”

Diana ignored
her friends and got straight to the heart of the matter. “Then I’ll teach you
to read. We’ll help each other. That way, I’ll get what I want, and you’ll get
what you want.”

Blackflies
& Blueberries, Book Two Buy
Links:

PANDAMONIUM
PUBLISHING HOUSE ׀ AMAZON ׀ BARNES
& NOBLE
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