The internet is over-burdened with writers
marketing their wares. And I’m adding to the general plethora out there. But
hear me out.

I’ve been writing Regencies for twenty-five
years now. Recently, after many ups and downs in the publishing industry,
Regencies have come back in to favor.  Yes,
fashions come and go in publishing just like everywhere else. And there’s
nothing new under the sun. My main publisher now is The Wild Rose Press since
my earlier publishers have closed their doors. I have also joined the endless
queue of self-published authors. So many of us out here jostling for position
like mid-field marathoners. The chances are you’ll never hear my plea. But I’m
chucking this out there in the anorexic hope that you just might read this.
Perhaps you have nothing better to do.

I hope you’re one of the many readers who
like historicals, and in particular, the Regency era. It was such a short
period in Britain’s history, but has given rise to many things such as the
development of canals (as trade with its trading partners hotted up with the
imprisonment of Napoleon, freeing up trade routes and resulting in large
numbers of goods that needed to be transported all over England), the Royal
Astronomical Society was founded, the early prototype of the bicycle, the
development of the railway system, the Act of Union with Ireland in 1801 etc.
All this is from the British point of view. Elsewhere, in the USA, Whitney came
up with the principle of manufacturing interchangeable parts as pertaining to
firearms. The statue of the Venus de Milo was discovered in Greece (1820) and
so it goes on.

So in spite of many Regencies persuading
you that it was all about Almacks and dukes, the Regency era was actually a
time on the cusp of great changes, not just in Britain but all over the world.
Minds were opening up, no longer relying on the dogma of ages past.

In 1814 The Times
adopted steam printing. By this method it could now print 1,100 sheets every
hour, not 200 as before—a fivefold increase in production capability and
demand.  This development brought about the rise of the wildly
popular fashionable novels.

The Regency is also noted for its
achievements in the fine arts and architecture (Nash springs to mind, and
remember that striped wallpaper known as ‘Regency’?) This era encompassed a
time of great social, political, and economic change that shaped and altered
the societal structure of Britain as a whole. Remember that in London alone,
the population increased from just under a million in 1801 to one and a quarter
million by 1820.

One of the reasons that the arts
flourished during this era was because of the patronage of ‘Prinny’, the fat
and at times ridiculous Prince of Wales. We might laugh at him, but it’s thanks
to him that the development of British architecture flourished, even if his
schemes often left the common people paying for his over-the-top designs.

The Regency era opened up the
market for many authors including Sir Walter Scott, Maria Edgeworth, Mary
Shelley (who incorporated the general mistrust of science during the earlier
part of the Regency era), John Keats and William Blake. Then there were the
playwrights and artists…the list goes on and on to confirm how minds began open
to new possibilities during that time.

Oh yes, there was a lot more to the
Regency period than those autocratic dukes and the patronesses at Almacks!

One of my releases is called Mr. Monfort’s
Marriage wherein a chivalrous businessman who is not overly fond of the
aristocracy finds himself married to an earl’s daughter. She teaches him about noblesse oblige, courage and joie de vivre, and he teaches her…all
sorts of things!

A marriage of convenience is not always convenient.

The woman needs saving, so he’ll save her. A marriage of convenience should suit them both. But don’t expect him to trust her or love her in spite of those knee-trembling smiles and bright intelligence. Women of the ton are not to be trusted. But Verity certainly is enticing…

Matthew
Monfort has two excellent reasons for loathing members of the ton, but thanks to his father’s
machinations, he finds himself inveigled into offering for Lady Verity Tristan.
But she needn’t think she’s going to win him over.

Amazon Buy Link MR. MONFORT’S MARRIAGE

Vonnie Hughes is a multi-published author in both Regency books and contemporary suspense. She loves the intricacies of the social rules of the Regency period and the far-ranging consequences of the Napoleonic Code. And with suspense she has free rein to explore forensic matters and the strong convolutions of the human mind. Like many writers, some days she hates the whole process, but somehow, she just cannot let it go.

Vonnie was born in New Zealand, but she and her husband now live happily in Australia. If you visit Hamilton Gardens in New Zealand, be sure to stroll through the Japanese Garden. These is a bronze plaque engraved with a haiku describing the peacefulness of that environment. The poem was written by Vonnie.

All of Vonnie’s books are available on The Wild Rose Press and Amazon.

Learn more about Vonnie Hughes on her website and blog. Stay connected on Facebook and Goodreads.

Cookies
are high up on my family’s snack list. Heck, some would consider them a
breakfast. These oatmeal cookies can be served as both. They are so easy to
make, and you can use only chocolate chips, raisins, or leave out both if you
prefer. Make the combo your own.

Did
I mention these tasty morsels possess soft centers, crispy edges, and a
mind-boggling chewy texture? Well, I just did. Wink. Face it. These cookies are
a family favorite for a reason, and now they can be your family’s favorite, if
you dare to wander into the uncharted territory of baking from scratch. 

With a
prep time of 15 minutes, chill time of 1 hour, and cook time of 10 minutes,
they’re the perfect cookies for impromptu bake sales for your kids. Eat them
either warm and fresh or prepare these treats in advance for family gatherings
or a much-needed dessert when someone pops by unexpectedly. You’ll be glad you
did.

Thumbs up Oatmeal
Raisin Chocolate Chip Cookies

1 cup all-purpose
flour, leveled

Combine the flour,
baking soda, and salt in a medium size bowl. Set aside.

Cream butter,
sugar, and brown sugar in a large bowl, using an electric mixer fitted with a
paddle or whisk attachment on medium-high speed for 2-3 minutes.

Add egg and
vanilla. Mix until creamy and well combined, about 1 minute.

Blend in flour
mixture and mix on low speed just until incorporated, about 30-60 seconds. Stir
in the oats until combined.

Then add the
chocolate chips and raisins and mix until well distributed. Cover and chill
for 1 hour.

Preheat oven to
350°F (175°C).

Line two baking
sheets with parchment paper and set aside.

Scoop 16 equal-sized balls (about 2
tablespoons/45g) of cookie dough, roll into even balls, and place 6-8 cookies,
about 3 inches (7.5 cm) apart, on each prepared baking sheet. Flatten slightly
with your fingers. Bake one sheet at a time for 10-12 minutes or until edges of
the cookies are set and lightly browned, and the centers look under-baked,
pale, puffy, and dry.

Remove baking sheet from the oven and let cookies
cool on the sheet for about 5 minutes, or until firm enough to move. Transfer them
to a wire rack and let cool completely. The cookies will stay fresh in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days or freeze for up to 3
months.

While you’re waiting for the cookie dough
to chill, pop on the kettle or turn on the coffee pot and settle into your
favorite chair with one of my books. May I suggest a nostalgic visit to mysterious Fairy Falls or perhaps go back in time with The Last Timekeepers? Just remember to keep some
cookies for yourself. After all, you deserve a break from the craziness of the
world.

Several months ago, my internet was finicky.
It went on and off several times each day. I considered that, since it’s
summertime, perhaps lots of people were home sucking up those internet
resources.

But then the internet went out
completely. After a few hours, I called my provider. I always get a tickle out
of the recorded message telling me that, if I’m having problems, I should go
online and check the company’s website.

“But I have no internet!” I wanted to
scream at the robotic voice that kept steering me away from contact with a
real human.

After being disconnected for no
apparent reason—maybe I said something to offend the AI operator—I tried again.

“Our wait times are currently very
long,” the voice explained.

I didn’t hang up.

“Just a reminder, you can go to our
website…”

I wanted to throw the phone but held
my ground. After a about ten seconds of silence, the voice said, “You’re still
there.”

I jumped! It sounded like an
accusation.

“Let me get someone to assist you.”

I let out a breath. After a
conversation with a real person, I learned that, indeed, the service was down
all over my neighborhood. They hoped all would be well at about 6:00 PM that
evening.

But twenty-four hours later, I still had no access to the Web. After standing around with my hands in my pockets
wondering what to do, I tried to remember what life was like before we all
became addicted to e-mail and social media and instant messaging. And I
considered the number of times each day I would run to check if I’d missed
something vital.

You know…like some huge publisher
wants my newest book.

Or Netflix is interested in producing
an eight-part series on my fabulous life.

Or some impressive university wants to
bestow upon me an honorary doctorate for my literary brilliance.

Then, I had to admit that generally I
find nothing horribly important in my daily correspondences. And yet, I can’t
help myself. I remember a similar feeling each day when I was a kid
anticipating the mail, the kind with paper and ink and stamps. (For you
youngsters, Google it.) But back then we understood the mailman only arrived
once a day, a vast difference from our current 24-hour model, that has many of
us desperately seeking…I don’t know…some kind of validation, maybe.

I checked the mail on my phone—not so
easy since I have four accounts—and confirmed just how unimportant I am. I
tried to deal with my social media accounts, but dislike working on the tiny
screen, so I put the phone down.

It was in the evening that the horrible reality hit. No
streaming! There we were in Season 6 of Peaky Blinders with
no access. We were forced to try TV from the antennae, compelled to sit through
endless commercials. I wanted to weep.

Okay! I feel better now.

Yep, I’m a spoiled brat.

Later, I considered what I might do
instead of “working” online. I closed my eyes and considered the things I do
for joy: bake brownies, read a book, call a friend, play my guitar, plan a nice
meal, see what’s still eatable in the garden, go for a swim.

When I opened my eyes, I was embarrassed, because I
realized what I needed to do: Be grateful for what I do have.

Still, right now, the brownies are winning. So, pardon me
while I go mix up a batch.

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.

Cook pasta prior to starting fish. Re-warm by running hot water over the noodles just before serving.

TANTALIZING COD
1 tbsp. olive oil
½ med. onion, sliced thin
2 garlic cloves, chopped fine
½ cup dry white wine
5 lg. Roma tomatoes, chopped
½ cup black olives, sliced
2 tbsp. parsley, chopped or 1 tbsp. dried
1 tbsp. capers, drained and chopped
¼ tsp. crushed red pepper
4 cod fillets, about 6 oz. each
½ tbsp. fresh basil, chopped or 1 tsp. dried

Heat a large skillet on medium-high. Add oil. Heat until it shimmers. Add onion, stir until translucent and lightly browned. Stir in garlic, cook 30 seconds. Add wine, cook 1 minute. Stir in tomatoes with the juice, olives, parsley, capers and red pepper. Heat to boiling.

Lay cod fillets over tomato mixture. Lower heat to medium. Cover skillet and cook until cod turns opaque throughout and flakes, about 9 minutes.

Sprinkle basil across the top.

Serve over whole grain spaghetti.

Don’t prepare extra. Leftovers have a stale taste and tend to be tough.

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

Sloane

Lunch, dinner—or breakfast the next morning, Sloane has you covered! Because the best times always start in the kitchen.

Sloane Taylor is an Award-Winning author with a second passion in her life. She is an avid cook and posts new recipes on her blog every Wednesday. The recipes are user friendly, meaning easy.

Taylor’s cookbooks, 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.

Have
you ever wondered if or how a person’s name affects his/her personality? Does
your name determine your fate? Or was Shakespeare right to shrug off labels?
The older I get, the more I am convinced that the Bard was wrong—that there is
something in a name, after all.

My great-grandmother was named Tatyana. There are several different meanings of that name. From ancient Greek, it translates as “founder of order” or “organizer.” According to other translations, it means “a fairy queen,” or “fairy
princess.” She was both. Born to a noble Russian family, she was raised like a
princess. Later in life, by fate’s capricious will, she became head of the
household, where she reigned supreme, bringing order and organizing the lives
of her family. 

Let’s
start from the beginning: Tatyana Fortushina was born in 1901 in Qusar
(Kusary), located in the foothills of the Great Caucasus Mountains in
Azerbaijan. One of her brothers was an orthodox priest. The other was in the army.
She also had two sisters. 

Unfortunately,
the details about my great-grandmother’s family are sketchy at best. According
to all the people I have talked to, Tatyana (or Baba Tanya, as everybody called
her) wasn’t close with her parents or siblings. My guess? Probably because of
her highly unusual marriage. As I said, my great-grandmother was raised and
educated like a princess, graduating from an establishment (St. Nina’s) for
girls of prominent Christian families, and was the apple of her parents’ eye…. until
she met my great-grandfather, that is. 

Here,
we draw a big, fat blank. To this day, no one in the family knows how or why Meshady
Abbas, the son of an Iranian manufacturer, ended up in post-revolutionary
Azerbaijan.

When
did my great-grandparents meet? And how on earth did a Muslim merchant get parental
permission from one of the prominent members of Christian society to marry his
daughter? The details are shrouded in secret. One thing we know for sure,
though, is that in order to marry my great-grandmother, my great-grandfather
converted to Christianity. And so, Meshadi Abbas became Artemy Kurdov and
married my great-grandmother. Vera, my grandmother, was born the next year. 

Their
small family was happy—at least I want to believe that they were—but not for
very long. When my grandmother Vera was a toddler, Artemy Kurdov, who embraced
the Communist ideology wholeheartedly, was executed as an enemy of the nation. Ironic?
Not in the least. It’s hard to understand now, but, during Stalin’s regime,
just sneezing the wrong way was enough to be labeled as an enemy of the
state—literally.  And my daredevil of a great-grandfather
had managed to become something of a Major in the small city where he lived.  I assume that’s why he was ultimately
executed… or perhaps he just said something, or did something, or looked at
someone in passing, and some zealot took a notice and reported it. I don’t want
to think about my great-grandfather’s days in prison or the beatings he
endured. Torture was a regular practice of the NKVD—the original name of the
KGB. 

Thus,
my great-grandmother Tatyana was left a young widow with no income to support
her and her daughter, and no family to turn to for help. But instead of falling
apart, this delicately built dark-haired princess squared her shoulders and
spat fate in the eyes. She showed everybody what a graduate of St. Nina’s was
made of! Remembering the sewing lessons she took in school, Baba Tanya soon
became one of the most sought-after seamstresses—all the wives of the city’s
elite were dressed by her. Much later, her granddaughters, my mom and my aunt,
paraded in the clothes that were the subject of envy to their friends.  She had finally found her footing, and life
in her household became content. They had a roof over their heads, food on the
table, but, most importantly, they had each other. 

And
then… 

Her
only daughter, her whole world, the reason of her being, fell in love with a
man almost twice her age… and had to get married, or else. I can only wonder
what Baba Tanya felt, when her nice and quiet world suddenly fell apart, as her
own daughter repeated the same fate she had? As a mother, how would I react if
I were in her shoes? Would I let my daughter chose her own fate, or would I try
to interfere? I honestly don’t know. 

In
the end, my great-grandmother gave the couple her blessings and stepped aside. For
the next five years, she lived alone. Was she hurt? I imagine she was. Feeling
lonely? Abandoned? Oh, absolutely. But she was too proud to show her emotions.
Always restrained, now she became coolly aloof. 

Years
later, when her beloved daughter became a widow with two small children at the
age of twenty, she immediately took all of them under her wing. How could a
woman, a mother, and grandmother keep harboring grudges when three people she
loved more than life itself needed her? Hence, she became the head of an
all-female household, one she ruled for almost three decades. The second
meaning of her name – the founder of order—had come into play. 

According
to my family, she was a stern woman, fair and loving, but reserved. She didn’t
suffer fools, didn’t forgive easily, and meted out punishment with a precision
of a surgeon. Her scalpel was her tongue—sharp, cold, and merciless. But her
love for her girls, although never visible, ran deep and was true. 

My
grandmother Vera always said that, if not for Baba Tanya and her sacrifices, they
probably wouldn’t have survived the hunger of World War II. During that
horrible time, to suppress her own hunger, Baba Tanya started to smoke. She went
hungry for days, giving her tiny bread portions to her granddaughters. She learned
to cook from bran and waste products, conjuring meals out of things
unimaginable. She stood hours on end in bread lines, barely alive from hunger, all
the while puffing away her disgusting handmade cigarettes. That cheap tobacco
mix affected her lungs, ultimately causing her to pass away years later when I
was barely three years old.  

My
memory of her is vague: a frail figure in a starched white kerchief, thin and
pale-faced, coughing loudly. I remember I was afraid to enter the room when the
‘scary old woman’ was lying in bed. I suppose, for a small child, her frailty,
her illness-ravished face, that horrible dry cough could and did look scary.

But
still…to this day, I feel ashamed of myself. 

Interestingly
enough, while I don’t remember much of my great-grandmother’s face, one thing
that stuck with me is her hands, which I can remember clearly. 

Isn’t
that just strange? 

Or
is it just the wonders of human memory?

Here is a peek at
Stella’s time travel romance novel for your reading pleasure. 

One key unlocks the love of a lifetime…but could also
break her heart. 

Nika Morris’s sixth sense has helped build a successful
business, lovingly restoring and reselling historic homes on Florida’s Amelia
Island. But there’s one forlorn, neglected relic that’s pulled at her from the
moment she saw it. The century-old Coleman house.  

Quite unexpectedly, the house is handed to her on a
silver platter—along with a mysterious letter, postmarked 1909, yet addressed
personally to Nika. Its cryptic message: Find the key. You know where it is.
Hurry, for goodness sake! 

The message triggers an irresistible drive to find
that key. When she does, one twist in an old grandfather clock throws her
back in time, straight into the arms of deliciously, devilishly handsome Elijah
Coleman. 

Swept up in a journey of a lifetime, Nika finds herself
falling in love with Eli—and with the family and friends that inhabit a time not
even her vivid imagination could have conjured. But in one desperate moment of
homesickness, she makes a decision that will not only alter the course of more
than one life, but break her heart. 

’Til Time Do Us
Part
is available in Kindle and Paperback at AMAZON. 

Talented author Stella May is the penname for Marina Sardarova who has a fascinating history you should read on her website.