Friday, July 12, 2019

BOOK: Echo of Heartbreak, A Recipe for Life - with Pineapple Squares Recipe


on October 12, 2013
Echo of Heartbreak: A Recipe for Life, by Carol Ann Kauffman,is a heartwarming story of love and devotion a mother has for her unborn child. Knowing she may not live through the pregnancy or childbirth, she is still determined to bring her child into the world. So she begins to leave a legacy in the form of a journal, filled with tips of how to live a good life and adds recipes from her Italian heritage.

This is an extremely enjoyable story filled with emotion and sentiment. It shows, on every page, the love this mom has for her child, no matter what and plans ahead to teach her child about love and devotion. I also like the way the author enveloped the journal entries and the recipes in between the pages of the story, to tug our heart strings along, every step of the way.(less)
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on September 6, 2013
This is a wonderful little novella. Carol Ann Kauffman, author of Time After Time series, has written a completely unrelated touching novella. It's letters from a dying mother to her unborn baby. She is leaving her letters on how to live her life, advice on growing up, falling in love. This book is incredibly touching. It's also filled with amazing recipes, that the mother is passing down to her child. Recipes that the family always made.

This little cookbook/ novella is wonderful, touching and a great addition to a kitchen! :)
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Dear Gentle Readers,
Echo of Heartbreak, A Recipe for Life is much more than the story of a young mother-to-be with a heart condition and her personal struggles during her pregnancy. It's also a recipe book. My mother was one of those exceptionally good old Italian cooks who never wrote a recipe down. She was in failing health when I wrote this particular book. These recipes are hers. I sat by her bedside and we talked recipes. I wrote them down. I went home and tried them. I went back the next day, results in hand. She would say things like "too much salt, you rushed it, too much flour," etc., and I would then adjust the recipe. Here is one of those recipes:

PINEAPPLE SQUARES

These are outstanding!

Filling: Cook 1 can of crushed pineapple, ½ c water, 3 T. cornstarch, ½ c. sugar + 2 T. sugar. Cook until thick. Let cool.
Dough: Mix together 3¼ c. flour, 1 t. baking soda, ½ t. salt, and 2 sticks of butter or margarine. Mix well. Add ½ c. sugar, 1 t. vanilla, ½ c. sour cream, 2 egg yolks. Mix and knead, divide into half. Roll half of the dough out in a cookie sheet. Add filling. Roll the other half of the dough out on waxed paper and place on top of filling. Sprinkle the top with the 2 T. sugar. Bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 35 minutes until golden brown. 

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

ART&INTERVIEW: Texas Collage Artist Parker Kaufman

      Parker Kaufman
Houston, TX

At what age did you know you wanted to be an artist?

    From a very early age, say seven or eight.  There was something magical that happened when I put a pencil to paper and started creating a world as only I could see it.


What medium do you prefer to work in?

    I love the media I'm currently working in, card stock.  I like the fact that it's a less exacting material than say acrylics or pastels.


Favorite food.

    You promised me there would be no difficult questions here! LOL  I like a variety of foods; simple, flavorful, healthy.  If I had to pick one, I'd say edamame...I can eat it like candy.


Favorite color.

    Artists LOVE all colors.  I'd have to say blue is my favorite.


Where would you like to visit?

    Paris, France


Favorite musical artist.

    Lady Gaga, David Bowie, Linkin Park, Neil Young, Big Head Todd & the Monsters.


At what age did you started making art?

    I've made art since I was a child and throughout most of my life.  In the traditional sense, I began seriously in my early forties.


Where do you get your inspiration?

    Everything inspires me.  The world is full of things that give me ideas...music...poetry, books I've read, everyday scenery.  Most of it comes from an overactive mind.  There is no off-switch to my brain.  It's a constant traffic jam in there.


What do you do when you get artist's block?

    I simply walk away from whatever project I'm involved in and enjoy some of my favorite activities...window shopping, walking the dog, cooking, or harassing friends (wink, wink).


 Who is your favorite artist?

    So many...Dali, Matisse, Seurat, Picasso...I could go on forever.


What is your favorite piece of sculpture?

    All of Erte's stunning works.


What is your favorite painting?

    Renoir's "Place de La Trinite."



Who is the one person who has influenced your personal life the most and why?

    Without a doubt, my maternal grandmother.  She taught me compassion, grace, and appreciation for what I was given.  She never held me to her expectations, but rather encouraged me to have high expectations for myself and use my talents to surpass them.  She always said that kindness was one of the keys to a successful life.


If you could sit down and have a conversation with ONE person, living or dead, real or fictional, who would it be and why?

    My first thought was so say Oprah, but in all honesty I'd have to say my great-uncle, Harold Staley.  Uncle "Bub" as we called him, was the greatest influence with regard to me and art.  He was a physically challenged artist who created the most amazing works, some of which hung in the Buttler Museum of American Art in Youngstown, OH and in the Kennedy Center in Washington, D.C.  He gave me a John Gnagy art kit for Christmas when I was nine years old.  He opened up the world of art for me, passing on his love for the craft.  I cherished the times he would talk with me about his art, and to sit with him now, after all I've learned, would be awesome.


What advice would you yo give someone who aspired to be an artist?

    Chase your aspirations and don't give up until you've tackled them.  Pay no attention to the nay sayers and those who put requirements on what is and is not art.  Follow your instincts, jump in with both feet, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE...create what YOU like, make art for YOURSELF, not for the masses.  The moment you try to create to please others is the moment the joy and passion all start to fade


Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to be with us this morning, Parker. Come back anytime. You are always welcome.
Hugs,
Carol


Monday, July 8, 2019

BOOK: In Another Life by Angela Gascoigne

If your whole world crumbled around you, could you find it in your heart to forgive and move on?

Holly Dineen’s life in beautiful West Cork is plagued by nightmares and ghosts from the past. After a life-changing trauma, she is finally finding reasons to live, including the gorgeous Marek who has been there for her through thick and thin. Despite the goose bumps and the butterflies in the stomach, she still can’t help wondering if a heart so badly broken can ever be rebuilt.

Then, she discovers something to make her believe that the perfect life she once had, was nothing but a big fat lie.
Once again, Holly’s mental state is balancing on a knife edge and she finds herself making some decisions which could have a detrimental effect on her future.

Through the darkest times in her life there’s been one constant – Trudi. 

With the support of her friends and family maybe she can get back to being the real Holly Dineen, or maybe, she’s crossed the bridge between sanity and insanity, with no way of finding her way back…



Amazon Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Another-Life-crumbled-around-forgive-ebook/dp/B0796XNYHM/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=In+Another+Life+by+Angela+Gascogne&qid=1561729385&s=digital-text&sr=1-1-spell



My Review of In Another Life:

Format: Kindle EditionVerified Purchase
In Another Life by Angela Gascoigne is the story of Holly Dineen, a woman who has had some problems dealing with depression. All is well, and then one day he husband was killed in an accident, sending a Holly careening out of control again. It’s the story of coping with life’s tragedies and surprises, and finding the strength to move on. The characters were believable and likable. The plot was all twisty and interesting. An all and all great read.

Sunday, July 7, 2019

SCHEDULE: July 8 -12, 2019


Schedule
Mon., July 8 - BOOK: In Another Life
by Angela Gascoigne

Wed., July 10 - ART&INTERVIEW: Texas Collage Artist
Parker Kaufman

Fri., July 12 - BOOK: Echo of Heartbreak, A Recipe for Life
by Carol Ann Kauffman
with my mother's Pineapple Squares Recipe

Friday, July 5, 2019

BOOK: Sherrie Hansen's Wildflowers of Scotland Book Series







Sherrie Hansen has graciously sent me an except from Wild Rose for you to read before you buy. These delightful stories do not need to be read in order to be thoroughly enjoyed. I've already read Shy Violet and Golden Rod. I plan to read the rest of the series.

EXCERPT from WILD ROSE by Sherrie Hansen

“Ian MacCraig. St. Conan’s vicar.” The man nodded at a stone cottage with
windows rimmed in tiny stones. It was mostly overgrown with creepers. She
had assumed it was unoccupied.

She gave her hand, took his, and was surprised by his warmth. “Rose
Wilson.” Her hands had been perpetually cold ever since Robert had died.
The only reason she’d come to meet Digby in the first place was to get
warm. But holding hands with Digby didnae even compare to the heat this
man radiated. “I’m nae from Lochawe. Just up for the day from Glasgow.”

She turned just enough to get the sun out of her eyes and looked up into
his face. And started to melt. Warm times ten. Honest, intelligent eyes,
longish hair the color of butterscotch. Wide shoulders perfect for
shielding a companion. A genuine, concerned smile tinged with the
slightest whisper of what? Guilt? Her mind flipped back a page. Forgive
him for what? For startling her? For intruding on her reverie? For being
concerned enough to acknowledge her presence? To see if she was in need of
someone to talk to?
He had such a beautiful aura aboot him. So serene. So utterly masculine.
She felt like she was in a dream, or starring in a film. She resisted the
urge to pinch herself. The vicars she knew were old and gray – most, gone
completely bald.  This vicar – Ian – didnae fit any of the pastoral images
she held in her mind.

Pastor Ian’s eyes blinked wide open a split second before she felt a
movement to her left. A stream of men streaked towards them, guns drawn.
She could see them out of the corner of her eye. What the devil was going
on?

In the moment it took to comprehend that they were slowly being surrounded
by armed constables, her mind, ever agile, jumped to the conclusion that
Ian must be a convict, recently escaped. Oh – my – God. Nae doubt “Ian”
had killed the real vicar while he slept. It would have been a simple
matter from there to don the poor gent’s clothes. He was probably planning
to take her as a hostage so he could escape across the border to England,
make his exit on a ferry, and disappear on the mainland. It was the only
explanation she could fathom.

That was when she realized he was still holding her hand, smiling at her
with all the sincerity in the world. The man certainly didnae look like a
convict. Perhaps he’d come to St. Conan’s for sanctuary.

“Step away from the vicar.” A voice boomed through a megaphone.

She looked at Ian and dropped his hand, fully expecting the constables to
rush him once she’d safely backed away.
Instead, two strong arms wrenched her from behind, pulled her hands behind
her back and slapped on a set of cuffs.

“What on earth?” she said, nearly toppling over from the shock of her
capture.

Ian looked even more apologetic that he had before, with a little relief
mixed in. Forgive him for what? For this? Had he called the police on her?

“I’ve done nothing wrong,” she cried. “I’m nae sure what’s going on here,
but there must be some mistake. I’m Rosalie Wilson from Glasgow,” she
tried to explain when she wasnae struggling to stay on her feet, bucking
this way and that as they pulled her over the rough terrain.

“She had nothing to do with the actual theft,” the vicar was saying,
following close at her side. “She was already gone when her man stole the
artifacts.”

Her man? Digby? What were they talking aboot? Digby wouldnae...

“Ye said she was on the tape,” the constable said.

“The earlier part, when they were...” the vicar stammered.

The man holding her cuffs snickered.

Oh, God. They couldnae have a tape of her and Digby. Could they?

“Do ye want us to call ye a solicitor?”

“No,” she said, sure of that at least. If Robert’s barristers ever found
out, or his sons, or the press...

Oh, God. How mortifying! How could she have? She’d risked Robert’s good
name, his reputation, and his millions, and for what? To feel a man’s
touch for a mere five minutes?

Amazon Buy Link:
https://www.amazon.com/Wild-Rose-Wildflowers-Scotland-Book-ebook/dp/B00CRGA4F6/ref=sr_1_5?keywords=Sherrie+Hansen&qid=1561652901&s=digital-text&sr=1-5 

Thursday, July 4, 2019

NOTE FROM CAROL


Dear Gentle Readers,

You'll get no flag waving from me today. Instead, here is a pot of get well flowers for our ailing democracy. I am an older woman. No, actually I am an old lady. I have seen this country through many trying times. Some not so good. Some bad. Some horrendous. But I have always felt a stirring of pride and delight in my country. When the national anthem is played, I stand. I place my hand over my heart. And, no matter how badly off-tune I am, I sing. 

Not today. I am disgusted with what our federal government has become, a glorified version of the Hatfields and the McCoys. I no longer want Democrats or Republicans. I want real Americans who are not in the pockets of big business and special interest groups that are in charge of my country, true statesman who understand what America represents and what justice for all means.

I want the kinder, gentler America back, the one where we lifted each other up, where we cared about education and healthcare and what's in our food and water supply, the one that cared about our planet, the one without the name calling and the bullying, without the foreign interference in our national elections who don't want any particular candidate to win, but for our democracy to lose. Remember that wonderful beacon of hope and light and justice? I do.

Big hugs,
Carol

Wednesday, July 3, 2019

ART: Neapolitan Italian Artist Gianni Strino




 Gianni Strino was born in Naples, Italy in 1953. He studied at the Neapolitan Artistic Lyceum and the Faculty of Architecture. 

He was raised in a local community that loved art and thought it was an admirable and thriving career.



Gianni Strino is considered to be one of the major representatives of modern Neapolitan art movement.

 He is most noted as a figure painter for his ability to paint in depths.







His figures are beautifully rendered, almost coming to life as you gaze upon them.


Here are some links to follow Gianni and learn more about him: 

http://www.facebook.com/giannistrino

http://www.giannistrino.it/

Tuesday, July 2, 2019

Top 50 Indie Writers



Link:
https://calebandlinda
pirtle.com/carol-ann-kauffman-one-top-50-indie-writers-need-reading/


Dear Readers,

Can you believe this? I have been named to the Top 50 Indie Writers You need To Be Reading List!

I am surprised and pleased and thrilled and amazed to be included in this group of outstanding and talented writers.

Big thanks to Caleb and Linda Pirtle who devise and maintain this list. I am grateful.

Big Hugs,
Carol

Monday, July 1, 2019

BOOK: New Book Release - July Fireworks Sky


BIG NEWS TODAY!

July Fireworks Sky

is released today!!!

The seventh in the serial story of Cat Collier, a small-town girl who opens her own investigation service in the sleepy little town of Heaton Valley in Northeast Ohio.

In July Fireworks Sky, the seventh book in the Cat Collier Mystery Short Story series, private investigator Mary Catherine Collier, known as Cat, finds herself in a disturbing, life-altering situation related to her brother’s trial. The outcome will have far reaching effects for not only herself, but Carter, Spencer, and others.

The location for this cozy mystery bounces back and forth from her quiet, sleepy hometown of Heaton Valley, Ohio to New York City, where Cat has another branch of her detective agency and a wonderful, new love. 

Will Cat finally find the honesty she’s looking for? 

Amazon Buy Link:  https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B07TCD63G5/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_hsch_vapi_tkin_p1_i0

But wait! Read an excerpt before you buy:

Chapter One 
Clearly No Carter


My cell phone rang. It was the delightful Spencer Paxton.
“Good morning,” he said warmly. I could hear him smile. I could see his sweet smile in my mind’s eye. “Welcome back to Cardinal Park. We all missed you. Was it a rough flight in this morning?”
“Yes, it was a bumpy ride through the storm. But we made it,” I answered.
“We?”
“Yes, I brought Nola with me to work on the Tenants vs. Miller Apartment Complex case. We finally got a preliminary hearing date next week. I need to be ready. I need a fresh viewpoint on this one. Nola has an eye for detail.”
“I hope you guys never decide to gang up on me.”
“As long as I’m your only tenant, I think you’re safe.” 
“Would you like to come up and have lunch with me today? Say around 1:00? You can bring Nola. You can bring Skamp, too, if you want. I’ll send down the elevator.”
“Matteo has lunch with his grandmother every day. She looks forward to some private time with her grandson. Besides, he’s afraid of you. But Nola and I would love to come up for lunch. See you soon.”
“Soon,” said Spencer. Again, I heard the smile.
***
“That’s her little gentleman friend on the phone,” said Cat’s New York assistant Matteo Skampotti. “I can tell by her smile. Have you ever meet him yet?” 
Nola shook her head no. 
“I’ve seen him, but never actually spoke to him. Blond guy. Kind of short. A little skittish, but he seems very nice. 
“He’s good for her,” continued Matteo. “He sends her flowers, phones her during the day, and makes her smile. She’s forgetting about that stupid idiot who treated her so badly. What a damn shithead he must be. She’s laughing more. She’s making jokes. I think she’s happy, much happier now than when she first came to Cardinal Park.”

***
“Nola, I think I’ll call Jean Houston to see if she’ll come over and help us sew up this case. This isn’t her field, but she has a sharp, legal mind.”
“Will she tell Carter?”
“No. She can keep a confidence.”
“So can I, you know that, right?”
“I know.”
“I didn’t tell Carter where to find you.”
“I know you didn’t. I don’t know how he found me.”
“I do. He said he saw you get in a cab at the airport. He had his cab follow you here. They almost lost you twice speeding down the street. Classic car chase excitement. He told Detrick all about it while I acted like a disinterested third party.”
I changed the subject. Normally the tale of taxi cab chasing taxi cab frantically through the crowded streets of New York City in an attempt to reunite separated lovers would have sent my heart racing. But not today.
“By the way, we’ve been invited to Spencer’s apartment for lunch. Want to go?”
“Sure.”
“Before we go upstairs, I have to tell you a little about Spencer Paxton?”
“Is he cute? Is he rich?”
“He’s complicated.”
“So he’s not cute. And he’s not rich.”
“Be serious. He has issues.”
“Is this like a ‘Don’t stare at his giant hump’ issue?”
“No.”
“Visible third eye?”
“No.  He’s a hermit.”
“So a hermit in New York City invited us up to his apartment for lunch. Are we on the menu?”
“I said hermit, not cannibal. Will you cut it out? He’s very sweet. And I like him. I like him a whole lot. Let’s go.”
***
Nelson ushered us into the dining room. The table was set for four. 
“Please be seated, ladies. Mr. Paxton will be out momentarily. Coffee?”
“Yes, please,” Nola and I said in unison.
Nelson left the room.
“Are things always so formal around her?” asked Nola. “Look at those beautiful beveled glass windows.  This tray ceiling is gorgeous. Oh, my goodness, I love this china! It’s so beautiful. I feel like I’m having lunch at Downton Abbey, but with just us and the butler sneaking us into the dining room.”
“Well, there she is,” said Spencer as he crossed the room to give me a warm hug. “I missed you.” He gave me a soft squeeze. “And this must be Miss White. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you. Welcome to my home,” Spencer extended a hand to Nola.
Nola shook his hand. “Thank you, Mr. Paxton.”
“Call me Spencer, please.”
“Nola,” Nola smiled.
Nelson carried in a tray of salads and bread sticks and sat it in the center of the table. Then he sat down across from Nola.
“Nola White, this is Paul Nelson.” 
Nelson nodded. 
“So tell me, Nola, is this your first visit to New York City?” asked Spencer as he passed the salads.
“Yes.”
“Don’t judge the whole city by our little neighborhood,” said Nelson. “We’ve seen better days. Much better days. Are you originally from Ohio, too, Nola?” 
“No. I’m from Pennsylvania. An employment placement service sent me to Heaton Valley for a job interview as office manager for Steel Man Trucking. I got the job and ended up staying there.”
“How long are you in town?” asked Nelson.
“Only for the day. I came to help Cat with a local case.”
“We have some great museums in the area. Maybe the next time you come to town, you can stay a little longer. I’d be happy to show you around.”
“Why, thank you, Paul,” said Nola. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“Mary Catherine prefers a light lunch on days she’s busy. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Are you kidding? I’m not a picky eater. I eat cupcakes right out of the plastic container. Yes, a big lunch puts Cat to sleep. Lunch here, no matter what, is a treat. You have a lovely apartment, Spencer.”
“Thank you,” Spencer answered with a smile.
***
“So, Nola, what do you think of Spencer?” I asked.  
“He’s a sweet, little man. He’s obviously taken with you. He didn’t take his eyes off you once,” said Nola. “He gives you that ‘I’m obviously interested in you’ look. I don’t get any bad vibes from him or anything. He’s not a serial killer with dead bodies stuffed in plastic bags stashed behind that beautiful wood paneling. He seems safe enough.”
“However?” I added. I knew there was more she wanted to say.
“But he’s clearly no Carter Larsen. You can’t possibly be romantically interested in him after what you had with Carter. Child, what’s the matter with you?”
“I am romantically interested in him. I’m growing fonder of him every day. He doesn’t simply tell me what he thinks I want to hear. It’s not all sweet talk and hot hormones. He doesn’t have that magic touch that makes me forget what I’m thinking or how to think or what my name is. He’s willing and able to talk things out. He’s mature. He’s an adult. He’s honest with me.”
“Oh, yeah, that’s it. He’s honest. And he also doesn’t have the gorgeous underwear model ex-girlfriend Yvette who’s still hung up on him. In fact, for the last ten years, I’m guessing Mr. Butterfly Cups has had no girlfriend at all. So, he can’t cheat on you with his ex.”
“Well, I guess that’s a possibility.” I rubbed my head to shake away Nola’s logic. “But when I’m with Carter, I can’t think straight. I see him, I hear him talk, and I’m carried away on some hormonally dense love-lust cloud machine. All I want is to be with him. Nothing else matters.”
“What’s the matter with hormones? Our species would have died out by now if it weren’t for those hormones.”
“Don’t dislike Spencer, Nola.”
“Oh, I don’t dislike him, but I think you’re seeing qualities in little Mr. Spencer Paxton that aren’t really there. He’s a nice, older gentleman. He has very good manners. A gorgeous, old apartment. And beautiful china. That’s it. Oh, God, you aren’t sleeping with him, are you?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s good.”
“Not yet.”

Sunday, June 30, 2019

Schedule for July 1 - 5, 2019


 Schedule
Mon., July 1 - BOOK: New Book Release
July Fireworks Sky, A Cat Collier Mystery
by Carol Ann Kauffman
Tues., July 2 - NOTE FROM CAROL:
Top 50 Indie Book List
Wed., July 3 - ART: Italian Artist
Gianni Strino
Thurs., July 4 - NOTE FROM CAROL:
The Fourth of July in American 2019
Fri., July 5 - BOOK: Sherrie Hansen's 
Wildflowers of Scotland Series