Wow!

This is blog post #1500!  I thought, in honor of that, I'd reshare all my book covers since that's the reason for all this in the first place.  See any you haven't read yet?  Click on the cover and it'll take you to the appropriate page.

As always, thank you for stopping by!

Reflecting

A gazillion years ago I was musical. I played a bass violin. It was huge but fun. Mainly because the surrounding schools often didn’t have a bass player of their own so they would borrow me. I played a bunch of shows and met some great people. I also got to go along on a trip to Great Britain.

There were many cool things about that trip. For instance, I saw Michael Crawford in his first leading role on the West End stage in London. I got to wander through Edinburgh Castle. I performed in the Royal Hall in Harrogate and in the Ripon Cathedral. Not bad for a thirteen-year-old growing up in the middle of nowhere rural PA. Needless to say I didn’t really fit in at home very well but that’s for a different blog.

But the best thing about the trip was that during the International Music Festival in Harrogate we were put up by the people of the town. My host family was wonderful. So wonderful that both their kids came to visit me for a summer each and I went back to stay with them the summer in between. How awesome is that!

I used the geography of that summer in my book, All Roads Lead to Ripon. As I did research to ensure I had the details correct I had so much fun revisiting the places in my mind that Claire, the daughter of the house, and I explored that summer.

I don’t know why but this morning I remembered that today, April 10th, is Claire’s birthday. I probably shouldn’t share this but she’s turning 50. I’m having problems with that because to me, she will always be the high-spirited teenager I knew way back when. Sadly, I haven’t spoken to her in years but I know she’s still out there and I’m sure she will somehow sense the many wishes I’m sending her way.

Happy Birthday, Claire!

All Roads Lead to Ripon

I wrote this book years ago. I’m not sure why, but one night this week I clicked it open and read it. There were so many little things in it that I didn’t remember writing. I was amazed.

What I did remember was using a trip I had taken as a kid as the basis for the heroine’s journey. Reading that was kind of fun. It brought back a lot of memories, things I hadn’t thought of in so long. Yeah.

It’s funny how life turns out.

Today's Lesson

Alright kiddies, today we’re going to talk about tea. Why? Because I recently rediscovered Taylors of Harrogate, one of the oldest independent family run importers of tea in Britain. A million years ago I spent some time in Harrogate and stumbling across their tea brought back a slew of memories. (Some of which can be found in my book, All Roads Lead to Ripon.) Taylors has been around since 1886. They began as tea importers, expanded to café owners and now handle coffee from around the world as well as tea.

There are thousands and thousands of varieties of teas but they all fall into three basic categories. Black, green, and white. The difference? They time of harvest and the way the leaves are processed.

Tea leaves are plucked from a hardy evergreen bush, camellia sinensis, by hand. Only the bud and top two leaves of a branch are used so this task is still performed by hand. For black tea, the freshly picked leaves are withered in warm room to remove much of the natural moisture. Then the leaves are rolled through machines which crush them. Next the leaves are permitted to ferment. This oxidization releases the essential oils and enzymes which darken the leaves and allows the flavor of the tea to develop. Finally, the tea is fired in very hot ovens, turning the leaves black, after which they are ready to be sorted and packaged.

Green tea starts out the same way but is not fermented. Because of this, the leaves are lighter and the flavor is milder. Taylors uses green tea leaves as a base for many of their blends because it mixes nicely with various fruits and herbs.

White tea also comes from the same bush but is plucked very early in the spring, always before the end of April. After that time the leaves are considered too old and will become either green or black tea. White tea only withers for twenty-four hours before drying and packing.

Tea is graded based on the size and coloring of the leaves and whether they are whole or broken. Each has its own specific characteristics that make it desirable to Taylors for use in the wide variety of products they offer. Charles Taylor, the company founder, noticed that variations in water supply could affect the quality of the brew and made it a priority to supply the most suitable blend of teas for each area in Britain. The family has carried on the tradition ever since.

I’ve sampled a wide variety of Taylors tea and have enjoyed it all. If you have the chance, pick some up and try it for yourself.

Released Today!

From Total-E-Bound

Blurb:

Sometimes it pays to revisit the past.

Jane runs from a smothering ex who won’t take no for an answer right into the last thing she’s looking for—a mysterious stranger who appears wherever she is, watching her.

Simon knows they’re meant for each other the first time he sees her. Why she can’t just do as he says and accept that is almost beyond him.Can some help from an interested observer be what they need to have a forever together?

Reader Advisory: This story was released as part of the Bound Brits Anthology by Total-E-Bound

Excerpt:

“Enough,” he snapped. “Lower your voice or I’ll give you the spanking you deserve right here.”

She balked. “As if. You don’t have the balls…”

“Bloody hell.” In a flash, he had his foot propped up on the nearest ledge and Jane bent over his thigh. Her arms were twisted behind her back, her wrists clamped in one hand. “Silence, Miss Templeton.” His flattened palm landed on her curved cheek.

“Hey, ow.” She struggled to get free.

“I said silence. Hold still,” he commanded with a flurry of swats. His hand was beginning to sting.
Even though she was protected by a layer of denim and presumably some sort of knickers her arse probably was too. He wished he were able to watch her cheeks turn that spectacular shade of red and feel the heat radiating from her smarting flesh. That she’d pushed him to administer her first spanking today, here, prematurely, instead of as he’d planned infuriated him even more than her childish disregard of common sense. He clipped her harder.

“Stop. Oh God, stop or I’ll scream,” she gasped, squirming in a futile attempt to avoid the blows.

“No. You won’t. You know that as well as I do because you would have already done so were you going to.” His hand flew ceaselessly.

“Please,” she whimpered, crying openly. “Please. Don’t.”

The haze of anger faded enough for him to realise that her reaction was changing. At first, Jane had fought to escape and to shift away from his hand. She had been rigid with fear and demanding he release her. Now however, her entire demeanour was altered. He became more methodical with his slaps and was thrilled with how her hips shifted as if seeking more. Moans interrupted her sobs. She continued to beg, softly now, but for him to continue instead of to stop.

“Are you ready to be reasonable?” he asked, pausing the spanking to caress her curves.

His voice seemed to draw her from the trance and Jane stiffened immediately. “You bastard! Let me go.”

Renewed fury surged through him and he resumed her punishment. “Language, Miss Templeton,” he repeated. “I won’t tolerate it.” He emphasised his words with a few strategically placed smacks. “If I need to remind you again, I’ll thrash your bare arse no matter where we are.” His thumb grazed the seam of her jeans covering her slit. “I can feel your wetness through your trousers. I can’t wait to witness it unhindered.

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