Author Recipe: Lorna Doone Dessert

Written by: Lisa Orchard

Since I’m a chocolate lover (more of a chocolate addict!) this dessert is now a tradition at our family holidays. The combination of the chocolate with the whipped cream is “to die for.” I love taking it to functions because it’s always a hit, and people think you’re an awesome baker. Little do they know this is the only dessert I can make! Well, at least the only one I want to make. Some people have raised concerns about the raw eggs in this, but when you add the yolk to the hot chocolate, it actually cooks them. So, no worries! I hope you enjoy this dessert as much as my family and friends have. If you have any questions shoot me an e-mail atlisa.orchard1@hotmail.com.

Lorna Doone Dessert

Ingredients:

1 package Lorna Doone cookies crushed

Add melted butter to cookies (this is the crust so add as much butter as you prefer; about ¼ to ½ of a stick)

1 7 oz Chocolate chips

2T Sugar

2-1/2 T water

4 egg yolks

1 teas. Vanilla

4 egg whites

Crush Lorna Doone cookies and add melted butter for the crust. Put crust in 10” baking dish and bake at 350 degrees until crust starts to brown. Combine chocolate chips, sugar, and water in double boiler until blended. Remove from fire and add egg yolks, beat after each one. Add vanilla. Chill for a short time maybe 10 to 15 minutes or until the pan is cool to the touch on the bottom.

Beat egg whites until stiff and fold into chocolate mixture. Spread over cooled cookie crust and top with whipped cream.

**I usually double this and put it in a 9x13 dish.

~~~

Blurb:

This book opens in a small town in Michigan where fifteen-year-old Sarah Cole is stuck spending the summer at her Aunt and Uncle’s with her sister, Lacey. She’s not happy with the situation until she befriends a girl named Jackie. The three girls stumble upon the ruthless murder of a reclusive neighborhood woman. One of the officers investigating the crime believes the girls are responsible for her death. Fearing that this officer will frame them for the murder, the girls organize their own detective squad. They become the Super Spies and start their own fact-finding mission. The Super Spies can’t understand why anyone would want to murder the “Cat Lady” until they start digging into her past and discover a horrible crime that happened thirty years ago. They uncover a connection between the two crimes and attempt to bring this information to the police, only to be reprimanded for meddling in the inquest. Not only are the girls upset by the admonition, but they also struggle with the fact that their exuberant investigating could provide a legal loophole allowing the killer to go free. To make matters worse, the police don’t even believe them. Frustrated by this turn of events, the Super Spies realize it’s up to them to snare the Cat Lady killer.

Excerpt:

Alarm bells rang in Sarah’s head—this has to be out of character for someone who never leaves their home. She turned back and whispered to the other girls. “Hey!”

Jackie poked her head out. “What?”

“The storm door’s open.”

“So?”

“So…what do I do?”

“Duh…Ring the door bell.”

Sarah shrugged and pushed the doorbell. It let out an irritating buzz and she had the feeling it had been broken long ago and never fixed. She dashed down the stairs. The cats scattered, alarmed by the sudden activity. Reaching the shrubs, Sarah hid with her sister and Jackie.

Gasping for breath, Sarah waited for a reaction from the old woman. Her heart pummeled her ribs and she pressed her hand to her chest to calm it.

After a few minutes, Sarah started to pace. “Well…nothing’s happened.” She peeked out from behind the shrub and saw the screen door hanging ajar. “I bet she’s not even home. I’m going to try again.”

Jackie shrugged. “Be careful, remember she’s a witch.”

Sarah shook her head, and then peered out from behind the shrubs. Once again, she climbed the stairs. She was braver this time and it didn’t take her as long to make it to the door.

She looked inside, her heart lurching in her chest. She tiptoed to the picture window and peered through it. Gasping, she ran back to the entryway. Pulling it open, she lunged inside.

Sarah stared, unable to tear herself away. Shock ran through her body like an electrical current as she eyed the scene before her. The crumpled form of the Cat Lady lay on the living room floor, just inside the door. No life flickered in the old woman’s staring eyes. Her mouth gaped open in a silent scream and her hands were up around her head as if she were warding off blows. Turning away from the Cat Lady’s body, Sarah gagged as the coppery scent of blood assaulted her. There was blood splattered everywhere, on the wall, on the carpet and under the Cat Lady’s body.

Suddenly, Sarah’s throat constricted and she gasped for breath. Fearing she would faint, she stumbled back out the door and collided with Jackie and Lacey on the porch.

Jackie grabbed Sarah’s arm and shook her. “What are you doing? Are you crazy? I never said to go inside!”

Sarah didn’t speak—she just stared blankly at the porch.

Jackie shook her again. “Are you under the Cat Lady’s spell?”

Lacey whimpered. “Hey, Sarah….can you hear me? Sarah?”

“She’s under the Cat Lady’s spell,” Jackie said waving her hand in front of Sarah’s eyes.

“Oh my---,” Sarah moaned and clutched Jackie’s arm.

“What is it?” Jackie shook her again. “Speak…say something!”

“Th-th-the C-C-Cat Lady, sh-sh-she’s,” Sarah stuttered.

“She’s what?” Jackie demanded.

“Sh-she’s dead.

Author Recipe: Kim's Concoction

Written by Kim Bowman

My writing partner, Kay Springsteen, will not be surprised to hear that I cook like I write—by the seat of my pants! Yes, I am cookpantser! And I’m happy to say most of the meals I “invent” end up being family favorites. (We won’t talk about the crock pot cheesecake incident.)

My better half often clips recipes from the paper he wants me to try. Here a few months ago he brought home one called “Cheesy Baked Lentils, Rice and Turkey Casserole” and ask me if I could make it that night. “Sure,” I said enthusiastically.

Now…the title alone should have made me say no because, well, I don’t readily keep lentils or turkey on hand…ahem, cookpantser. So…I go searching the pantry and fridge. Here is the conversation I had with myself:

“No turkey, so I’ll use hamburger. No onions or spinach…I’ll use cabbage and French fried onions. Brown rice…brown rice…nope, guess I’ll use this box of instance wild rice. Hmmm…I don’t have any lentils or lentil soup either. Oh! I have some tortilla soup. I’ll use that. I don’t have Swiss or sharp cheddar cheese. I think it’ll be ok with shredded Colby-jack. Oooooo, I bet this would be good with some of the corn we froze from our garden.”

So of the listed ingredients, the only one I used was ¼ cup of water. Yeah, I live like I write—by the seat of my pants!

Kim’s Cheese Casserole

1 Can of Tortilla soup (or lentil soup, or Chicken mushroom soup…)

1 Box of long grain and wild rice (don’t cook)

8 oz hamburger

1 Cup (or two) French fried onions

1 or 2 Cups shredded cabbage

½ pkg (4 oz or 6 or 8) shredded cheese (I used Colby-jack, but use your favorite)

1 Cup corn

¼ to ½ Cup water

Brown the hamburger. Preheat oven to 350. Combine all ingredients except the cheese in a casserole dish, cover, and bake for 40 minutes or until the rice has absorbed all the liquid. Uncover and sprinkle the cheese on top and bake an additional 5 minutes. YUM-MY!

Price: $2.99

Buy it HERE.

Ladies’ maid, Juliet Baines has gotten herself into a pickle by agreeing to go to London and taking the place of her mistress and best friend, Annabella Price, stepsister to the Duke of Wyndham. After all, what does a servant know about being a lady? But Juliet soon finds that pretending to be a lady isn’t nearly as hard as guarding her heart against the folly of wanting a man who’s completely out of reach.

Graeme "Grey" Roland Dominick Markwythe, Sixth Duke of Wyndham, approaches his duties as a nobleman with great dedication and meticulous care. And he’s a man who is not easily fooled...except when he tries to convince himself he's not utterly and madly in love with the beautiful imposter who has turned his life upside down. Will society and his responsibilities to his noble status keep him from opening his heart to the woman he loves?

Excerpt:

Grey glanced about. Lady Rossington and her ridiculously giddy debutante daughter had halted their walk along Newport Street and stared enraptured at the sight. He bit off a curse. The whole of London will be laughing about the scandalous scene by nightfall.

He stepped forward only to be stopped again when a young girl darted from the rear of the carriage. Presumably this was Annabella, though she’d grown some since their last encounter. Her yellow and cream traveling gown swirled about her legs with each step, and she tugged a short dark green jacket into place as she walked. Golden curls peeked from beneath a green bonnet decorated with flowers and cascaded over her shoulders.

With quick movements, she grasped the dog’s collar and gave it a yank, tugging against the massive brute. Grey’s stomach twisted into a tight knot. He’d soon have two injured people on his hands.

He opened his mouth to tell her to get back when the animal let out a high-pitched yelp and the girl stood, dragging the dog up with her.

“You naughty boy, that’s quite enough.” She spoke sharply, her tone brooking no argument.

The dog jerked its head around and snapped at her.

She simply thumped him on the nose and he let out a shocked yap. “You mind your manners.”

The dog growled and wheezed and showed his teeth; all the while the rest of his body wiggled and his tail wagged wildly.

Wonder if she could do that with Lucien.

Author Recipe: Chocolate Cherry Cake

Written by: Delaney Diamond

Chocolate Cherry Cake

Ingredients:

1 box of chocolate cake mix (any brand you like)

1 21-oz. can of cherry pie filling

1 container of chocolate icing

Prepare the cake according to the instructions, but omit the oil and use the pie filling instead. Mix it to blend well. Pour the mixture into two pans, and bake per instructions on the box. Remove the cakes and once they've cooled, add icing and stack to make a two-layer cake.

Why I like this dish

I love to cook, but my strength is not in baking. Whenever I find a simple baking recipe, I'm ecstatic. I’ve been making this cake for a long time. I found the recipe in a recipe book I bought back in high school which had a slew of simple recipes in it. I no longer have the book, but thankfully, I remembered how to make this cake. It’s been a hit every time I have.

Years ago, I took it to work and jokingly told my co-workers that this cake will get me a proposal one day. One of my male co-workers, after having a slice, ended up proposing to me that afternoon. Lol.

I like the recipe for two reasons: 1) It’s easy. 2) It’s delicious! It comes out moist and tasty every single time. Give it a try. Who knows, you might get a proposal out of it!

Buy links: Astraea Press, All Romance Ebooks, Amazon, B&N, Smashwords

Blurb:

Julia Newman doesn’t have time for love. Been there, done that, and she’s got the scars to prove it. Instead, she’s focused on her career. For the past few years, she has been living the life she wants. She drives a silver Mercedes, just purchased a four bedroom house in a suburb of Atlanta, Georgia, and she’s on her way to becoming the youngest female partner in the history of the venture capitalist firm where she works. Life couldn’t be better. Or so she thought.

Frederico “Freddie” Mendoza is the owner of Mendoza Construction. He hasn’t given up on love, but he is fed up with women who are fascinated by the fantasy of being with a blue collar man and then relegate him to a certain part of their lives. His newest customer, Julia Newman, is the kind of woman he’s decided he’ll avoid from now on. He needs to work on expanding his business. Besides, she’s not his type. Or so he thought.

Excerpt:

His long, lean fingers held a single red rose, which he extended to her.

“Buenas noches,” he said softly, smiling a sexy smile that must have broken down the inhibitions of legions of women since the day he hit puberty. The lapse into Spanish was a pleasant surprise, creating more tingling from the top of her head to the toes of high-heeled sandaled feet.

“Buenas noches,” Julia repeated, lifting the flower from his hand. She felt like she had nineteen years ago when she went on her first date at sixteen: shy, nervous, anxious, and ready for anything.

When Julia locked the front door, Freddie extended the crook of his arm. Any reason to touch her, because she looked so touchable tonight. When she hooked her arm through his and allowed her soft fingers to reach up and brush his biceps, his chest muscles contracted. He didn’t know what possessed him to invite her out dancing when he should have been distancing himself from her, but he was glad he did.

She looked stunning tonight. Without the air of aloofness and the cool confidence she usually exhibited, she appeared softer, more feminine, and more approachable. The neckline of her pretty, feminine top dipped low enough to tease him with a hint of cleavage. The A-line skirt swirled around her knees and permitted him a good view of slender, toned calves in sandals.

Her dark hair was styled so it fell across her brow at a teasing angle—inviting him to reach up and brush the strands back from her face so they wouldn’t block her vision. The auburn highlights he’d noticed the first night were more noticeable now and made him want to delve his fingers into the shiny depths of her hair.

As he helped her into the newly cleaned truck, Freddie couldn’t resist leaning down while she was turned away and getting a whiff of her feminine scent. He got a double whammy. The perfume stirred his senses, and the smell of her hair made his gut contract with the desire to drag her close and bury his face in the fresh, vanilla-scented tresses.

She smiled at him as he closed the passenger side door. The wine-colored lipstick made her full lips look even fuller and inviting. More than anything he wanted to keep her smiling. He wanted to keep her safe and protect her against any further emotional harm. No woman of his—whoa.

Where had that come from?

Author Recipe: The Origins of MacTunaPea

Written by Jeff Salter

I should probably explain that I’m not handy in the kitchen and I’m loathe to prepare dishes with multiple, complicated steps. My basic rule for meals is two steps: (1) open container and (2) nuke in microwave. I’m willing to stir contents or rotate the package – whatever – but no further ministrations.

So, with that explanation, you may well imagine a meal involving THREE containers and a total of FOUR steps ... is already stretching the limits of my skill-set.

I can’t claim to have invented the combination of macaroni and tuna fish ... in fact, it may be printed right on the box somewhere. But I know for a fact that I originated the addition of green peas to the mix. It was some time in the mid-1980s as best I can recall. [Note: I’ve since seen instructions for some sort of casserole which uses my primary ingredients – plus something else – and I’m certain they stole that idea from me.]

Ingredients:

* 1 (12 oz.) box of Kraft macaroni shells with the cheese ‘sauce’ in a pouch [do NOT try to use the powered cheese substance — it’s nasty]

* 1 (12 oz.) can of white albacore tuna [I prefer StarKist, but any major brand will do as long as it’s packed in water and NOT in slimy oil] Note: you don’t really need 12 full ounces, but it needs to be quite a bit more than the standard 6 oz cans.

* 1 small (8.5 oz.) can of green peas [the peas are mainly for color ... and to keep my wife from eating it — ha]

Directions:

* Boil water in medium-size pot

* Add macaroni

* Boil for 10-12 mins. (or whatever the box says)

* Drain off water

* Squeeze ALL the cheese from the pouch ... and mix well

* Dump in tuna ... and mix well

Important note:

If your spouse is willing to eat MacTuna but despises Peas ... this is the time to scoop out a bowlful and set that aside.

* At the very last minute, add the peas ... but do not mix-in too vigorously (because it breaks the peas open and they get mushy).

* Serve in a large bowl and enjoy.

Note: MacTunaPea also tastes very good the next day (assuming you properly refrigerate the leftovers). Just add a teeny bit of water to the leftovers before you nuke it.

* Nuke for about 45 seconds

* Stir and nuke again until it reaches desired temperature

CAUTION: bowl will be hot!

~~~~

Book Title: The Overnighter's Secrets

Coming this April to Astraea Press...

Blurb:

When Beth left suddenly, it broke two hearts ... but she’d had no choice. Shane, a rugged, ex-Airborne biker, handled it badly ... but so had she. Three years later and 2000 miles away, she desperately needs her ex-lover’s protection from a violent menace with ‘bad history’ who’ll do anything to reclaim a mysterious suitcase Beth possesses.

Long before Shane acquired that overnighter, a ‘silent movie’ actress kept secrets there ... and now several lives are in jeopardy. An ambitious female state senate candidate hires a ruthless investigator to eliminate potential campaign ‘problems’ like her dark family secret — a bizarre 1889 murder.

Is Beth’s terrifying ordeal simply because she unwittingly possesses the overnighter’s secrets? Or is it due to the meth-fueled dumpster-diver’s ‘unfinished business’?

Shane will likely return to California after he resolves this Tennessee ‘situation’ ... so Beth struggles to resist her reawakened feelings. But before she can sort out their renewed relationship ... Beth is kidnapped! To rescue her Shane enters an obvious trap in a dilapidated hotel. Only with Beth’s help can both survive the violent struggle against her kidnappers.

Excerpt:

The smell of freshly baked pizza entering is enough to make one’s mouth water...especially when the thoughtful individual added an order of succulent bread sticks, so warm that the steam was still rising.

Beth awkwardly hugged Shane as he clutched the boxes.

He put down the meal, then turned and embraced her properly. “I thought about you all day.”

It warmed her, but she couldn’t let down her guard. “I saw you less than two hours ago.”

“I forgot to tell you then.”

She eyed him narrowly. Something was different. “I thought you were focused on locating Ricks.”

“Trail went cold...and I was hungry.” He bit the end off a breadstick. “I feel like I’m real close most of the time, but he’s somehow able to stay one step ahead of me.”

Beth produced disposable plates. When she opened the box lid, she nearly swooned. Anybody who wanted to seduce her need only bring fresh, hot pizza. “What about that local contact. Was he any more help?”

“Couldn’t find him just now. Old barfly named Cratchit—busybody with a pretty good memory. All my solid leads came from him. Everything else is just instinct and looking at all the spots where skunks hide-out.” Shane scooped up two pizza pieces and looked around. “Table or couch?”

“Couch. I mean, table.” She caught a string of hot cheese on her chin. “Doesn’t matter. You get comfortable and I’ll join you.”

With the breadstick clamped in his mouth like a fat cigar, Shane carried his plate in one hand and the plastic cup of iced tea in his other. He placed both on the coffee table and sat on the sofa.

Beth watched briefly from the kitchen before she joined him.

“I’m going to try to find Cratchit again tomorrow and see if he’s learned anything new.” Shane sipped tea and took a big bite of the meal. It took a while to chew down sufficiently to speak.

She continued to watch him as she ate her own portion.

He noticed. “What, Bethany?”

“Huh?”

“You’re staring. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing.” She lied. “Well, yeah...noticing you’re different somehow.”

When Shane smiled, a morsel of crust fell onto his lap. He located it just below his buckle and plopped it back into his mouth. “Different...how?”

“Not sure.” Beth squinted. “The word that comes to mind is ‘calmer’...but that’s not exactly right.”

Shane chuckled. “Calmer?”

“Okay. Then maybe more mature...or something.”

“Well, I am a bit older than I was...”

“No, I don’t mean older.” Beth picked up another slice. “Never mind.” She bit off a sizeable chunk.

Shane watched her chew. In a moment, he reached way over, plucked a strand of errant cheese from the corner of her mouth and placed it on his own tongue.

Beth’s eyes widened. This was a new Shane. The old Shane might have just pointed and grunted.

“Maybe I have matured a bit, Bethany. If that means it knocked me flat and sobered me up...when I lost you.” His eyes glistened.

Beth dabbed a pizza-stained paper napkin at her eyes. “I wasn’t lost, Shane. I had to move.”

“I know, Bethany, I know.” He moved his plate to the low table. “If I had a brother or sister who needed my help, I guess I would have gone away too. But I couldn’t see it back then. It hurt too....” He choked up.

Beth hurried to the bathroom sink to wash her face. She stared at the woman in the mirror and barely recognized the image. That person had aged six years in the past three...and another full year in the recent ten days. The woman in that looking glass had left her lover, lost her confidence, buried her brother, and now stayed constantly frightened. Who was she and what had she done with Bethany Muse?

Author Recipe: Pistachio Cake

Written by: Meg Mims

My mother-in-law was a fabulous cook and baker. She could make baked chicken in the oven
taste like real fried chicken, melt-in-your-mouth style, and delicious pies -- her go-to favorite
as strawberry-rhubarb. I *loathe* rhubarb, but my husband loved her lemon ice-box pie that was
so rich, it was sinful. However, my favorite recipe of hers that I adapted (saves calories and fat)
is Pistachio Cake. It's so pretty as a bundt cake -- a yellowish-green in color, and no frosting
is needed -- just a dusting of powder sugar. A glaze of 1 spoonful of water in 1/4 cup powdered
sugar is also good if you *must* have that extra oomph, but try it first without it.

Meg Mims' Pistachio Cake

4 eggs
1/3 to 1/2 cup vegetable oil
1 small individual size applesauce
1 cup light sour cream
1 Duncan Hines Butter Recipe Golden cake mix
1 small package pistachio instant pudding mix

Spray bundt pan with Baker's Joy. Mix all ingredients together and pour into pan. Bake in a
350 degree pre-heated oven for 50-55 minutes, test for doneness. Sprinkle with powder
sugar after inverting onto plate, or make a powder sugar glaze.

=================================================================
BLURB --

A murder arranged as a suicide … a missing deed … and a bereft daughter whose sheltered world is shattered.

August, 1869: Lily Granville is stunned by her father’s murder. Only one other person knows about a valuable California gold mine deed — both are now missing. Lily heads west on the newly opened transcontinental railroad, determined to track the killer. She soon realizes she is no longer the hunter but the prey.

As things progress from bad to worse, Lily is uncertain who to trust—the China-bound missionary who wants to marry her, or the wandering Texan who offers to protect her … for a price. Will Lily survive the journey and unexpected betrayal?

Ebook: ISBN# 978-1-936852-48-2 Print: ISBN # 1466223200

BUY LINK: Astraea Press, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Smashwords

======================================================================

EXCERPT:

I packed a small trunk. My traveling suit, two shirtwaists, a nightgown, plus several hats and my parent’s framed photograph barely fit inside. I stuffed a spare nightdress and underclothes inside a worn valise. Then I added a toothbrush and powder, hairbrush and other essentials plus my leather riding boots. I’d rolled my wad of cash, roughly a hundred and fifty dollars, into one toe. Crumpled tissue beneath the bed caught my eye. I leaned over to retrieve it along with the leather sketchbook Father had given me.

Fighting an urge to leave it behind, I pushed it into my pocketbook along with a handful of pencils and a small pocketknife. One slim novel barely fit beside it. I hurried into Father’s bedroom and rummaged through his wardrobe. I finally found his gold watch in his suit pocket and pulled out a small scrap of paper. I shoved them both in my skirt and then retrieved his Army revolver from behind his stash of boots.

I’d promised not to handle it, but knew I needed something for protection. Charles wouldn’t be able to face a killer or a wild Indian savage.

Back in my room, I shoved the weapon beneath my boots along with a box of ammunition and fastened the bag. Then I stored it with the trunk under my bed and hurried downstairs to breakfast. Aunt Sylvia had a ranting fit over my hair. I’d pinned it up, but stray wisps escaped and it did look awful. She jammed a heavy veiled bonnet on my head and dragged me out to the buggy. Sir Vaughn looked bored as we drove to the cemetery.

Few people attended the graveside service. Charles and Adele stood beside their father, aloof in the shimmering heat. Dry leaves scuttled past my dusty shoes. Reverend Hanson offered prayers and scripture verses, but even the beloved 23^rd Psalm failed to offer any comfort. Except one, my Father’s favorite. The words calmed my rebellious, angry spirit.

“‘The Lord is my rock and my fortress, and my deliverer; my God, my strength, in whom I will trust....’”

I watched the casket lowered by creaking ropes into the ground. What an ignoble end for a courageous man. Father had faced death on the battlefield, never expecting it would creep upon him in the safety of his beloved home. Betrayed by a friend he’d trusted, a friend who saved him at Shiloh. A friend who succumbed to pure greed. Aunt Sylvia and Sir Vaughn both gripped my arms tight, as if they expected me to hurl myself into the yawning hole. Instead I pictured Father sitting in the library, pipe clenched between his teeth, newspaper in hand.

I’d give anything to have him back again. Safe and alive.

I opened my hand and let a handful of dirt rain upon his coffin. “I will find your killer, Father. I promise.”

Author Recipe: Puppy cookies

Written by: J Gunnar Grey

When it comes to pets, I’m a fusser. Are they getting the best nutrition? Do they like their food? Are they happy? We owned two wonderful mutts for sixteen years, and my husband likes to comment it’s a good thing we never had kids, because just with dogs I drove him sufficiently mad.

Anyways, one day I discovered what some pet food companies insert into dog food and biscuits. There’s plenty of info on the topic online, so I won’t go into the specifics. Instead, here’s my solution to the problem: I began cooking my own dog food at home, using the same groceries we purchased at the store for our own meals. And of course, while they loved the ground beef, tuna, eggs, oatmeal, and no-salt canned veggies, like all kids their favorite part of the meal was dessert.

Even when they were teenagers, the vet commented on their continued health. And sassiness. These puppy cookies, as I call them, were likely the main cause. Not the spoiling.

It’s been two years now since they’ve gone. Miss you, kids.

Dessert: Puppy cookies

Combine 1/2 cup each of corn meal, powdered milk, and oatmeal. Stir in 2 cups of whole wheat flour (white flour also works). Use a pastry cutter to cut in 1/4 to 1/2 cup fat, drippings, or shortening. Stir in one egg and resist the temptation to add another when it doesn’t seem to be enough; trust me, you will regret surrendering to that temptation when the dough turns into a gooey, yucky mess. Granted, mine ate these and begged for more no matter what I did to it.

By the time I reached this point in the recipe, Worf was generally lying on the kitchen carpet behind me, tail quivering nonstop, and Tasha was watching from beneath the table, teeth gleaming with a feral pant.

Stir in sufficient water to form a stiff dough; too much and you won’t like yourself here, either. Between 1/2 cup and 3/4 cup is plenty.

Thickly dust a cutting board with flour. Turn out the dough and dust it again. Knead the mess for five minutes, adding flour to achieve a stiff, exhaust-your-fingers texture that doesn’t stick to everything it touches.

Divide dough into quarters. Roll it out fairly thin, to 3/8 or 1/2 inch at most. Use a knife to cut it into little squares. Microwave on high for three minutes. Flip them over and continue microwaving on high until they’re hard to a thumbnail thump. They also bake in a regular or toaster oven. Thicker biscuits require longer to cook.

None of this is rocket science so while cooking, don’t sweat the proportions too much. While feeding, keep in mind that this is dense food; it’s very easy to both over- and under-feed, leading to heavy dogs (not good) or thin ones that lick their bowls all day (entertaining but not good either).

Blurb:

In August 1940, German Army Major Faust is captured by the English and he must escape before they break him. But every time he gets away, a woman is raped and murdered, and the English are looking for someone to hang. Faust must catch the killer, even though he’s helping the enemy — even though he’s making a Deal with the Devil.

Excerpt:

Something soft and annoying whooshed past his face. Faust brushed at it, but it was already gone and he was too fragging sleepy to care. He dropped his arm to the bed.

There was no bed.

There wasn’t anything. His arm was dangling out in space. So was the rest of him. Faust snapped his eyes open. A strong wind pummeled him, tumbled him head over turkey. The ground was a long way down. He was falling and it was real, not some stupid nightmare.

Panic leapt like a predator through his veins. He twisted, fighting against gravity. An icicle of light from the distant ground stabbed at his eyes, swept past him, and several red flashes popped in quick succession. A rumbling vibrated the air, something sounding like an artillery round exploded nearby, and sharp chemical smoke scoured his nostrils.

Tight cords wrapped about his body, between his legs, jerking him upright and throwing him higher, dangling him across the light-slashed night sky. The rumbling intensified. His head snapped back. Above him, a parachute canopy blazed white in the spotlight from below. Beyond it loomed a huge dark beast, moving past in impossible slow motion. It towered over him. The parachute danced closer, second by drawn-out second; then it bowed, canted, and slid away, laying Faust on his back as it hauled him aside.

He gripped the harness shroud lines, chest and belly flinching. It was the bomber, the one he’d been riding in. The belly hatch framed Erhard’s laughing face, lit from below by a spotlight. With one hand, Erhard clutched the rubber coaming, cupping the other about his mouth. He yelled something — something short — which was overwhelmed by the racket and growing distance.

Maybe the plane was having mechanical problems — but they and the mechanics had tuned the Heinkel’s twin engines all afternoon. No one else was bailing out.

Erhard had thrown him overboard.

It didn’t matter how much schnapps he’d slugged nor how drunk he remained. When Faust hit the ground, Erhard was toast.