Evelyn Cullet

What does healthy eating have to do with my new novel? I’m glad you asked.

In my new mystery, Once Upon a Crime, my protagonist’s Aunt Nettie has completely changed the way she looks at food. She’s now into eating healthy. While she made the change in her late fifties, I’ve been eating healthy most of my life.

I’m not a vegetarian. I also eat free-range chicken, grass-fed beef, wild Alaskan salmon, pastured eggs and elk meat. I do eat a lot of fruits and veggies, but only if they’re organic. I plant an organic garden every spring. And when the autumn weather approaches, I do a fall planting. I’m not a food snob. It’s just my preferred way of eating.

Aunt Nettie is also into herbal teas. I drink rosehips and hibiscus tea every morning. It’s a tasty way to help keep your blood pressure under control. But unlike Nettie, I also enjoy an occasional cup of decaf coffee with a good portion of almond milk added. It’s delicious. Just like having dessert. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I do make my own almond milk. I also make my own coconut cream from fresh, young coconuts. It’s decadently luscious on any dessert, like Raw Chocolate Mousse. (Recipes below.)

With her noon and evening meals, Aunt Nettie drinks lemon water, just as I do. It helps with digestion and alkalizes the body. And as Nettie so eloquently states, after dinner an occasional “cup of dandelion root tea is a great way to clear the toxins out of your liver.”

All the dishes Aunt Nettie serves in this novel are part of my diet. So if you’re of a like mind and you want any of the recipes, please feel free to contact me here on my website at. https://evelyncullet.com/contact-me/.

 But if you’d prefer to eat at your local steakhouse or grab a burger at a café, and have chocolate whipped cream cake for dessert, like my protagonist, Charlotte, and her friend Jane, that’s totally up to you.

Here are the recipes for Raw Chocolate Mousse and Raw Cashew Cream

Raw Chocolate Mousse 

Ingredients – serves 2 or 3

(please use organic/local/sustainable produce where possible)

• 1 large avocado

• 2 medium bananas – very ripe

• 6 drops vanilla cream liquid stevia (optional, if bananas are under-ripe)

• 2 heaping TBSP raw cocoa powder. (I use Navitas brand. It’s raw, vegan, non-GMO and fair trade.)

• 1/2 tsp. vanilla

• 2 tblsps. coconut water (I use Vita Coco, it’s the closest to the real deal.) or 2 tblsps. almond milk. You can also use filtered water.

• A handful of frozen organic raspberries or six whole, fresh organic raspberries.

 Directions:

• Cut open the avocado and place the flesh, banana, vanilla, stevia (if using) and cocoa in the blender and blend.

• Slowly add the coconut water or almond milk until the mixture becomes creamy and easily moves around the blender, add a little extra if the mixture isn’t creamy enough. Test for sweetness and adjust.

• Place the moose into two or three porcelain ramekins or cocktail glasses (be sure to lick the spoon)

• Crumble the frozen raspberries in your hands and place them on top of each dessert, or place the fresh raspberries on top of the mousse. Top with coconut cream or raw cashew cream.

Raw Cashew Cream 

The night before or early in the morning, soak 1 cup of raw cashews (not roasted) in filtered water. Just before serving, empty water from container (I use a Mason jar). Rinse cashews several times and put in them in the blender with 3/4 cup filtered water. Blend until creamy. This may take a while. In any case let the blender run for at least three minutes. Add more water by the teaspoon, if necessary. Check periodically for creaminess. Add a sweetener if you like. Or top the raw chocolate mouse with the cream as is.

This can be made earlier in the day and stored in the fridge for up to 1 week. Also can be used as a creamer for soups or as a topping for berries or other desserts.

Hope you enjoyed reading my blog this week. Please feel free to leave a comment.

This week, I’m hosting mystery author, Marilyn Levinson.

A former Spanish teacher, Marilyn Levinson writes mysteries, romantic suspense, and books for kids.
 Murder a la Christie and Murder the Tey Way, the first two mysteries in her Golden Age of Mystery Book Club mysteries, are available in paperback and e-format. Untreed Reads has brought out new e-editions of her Twin Lakes mysteries, A Murderer Among Us, awarded a Suspense Magazine Best Indie, and Murder in the Air. Uncial Press e-publishes her ghost mystery, Giving Up the Ghost, and her romantic suspense, Dangerous Relations. All of Marilyn’s mysteries take place on Long Island, where she lives. Three of her mysteries have been featured on Book Town’s reading lists.

Her books for young readers include No Boys Allowed; Rufus and Magic Run Amok, which was awarded a Children’s Choice; Getting Back to Normal, & And Don’t Bring Jeremy.
 Marilyn loves traveling, reading, knitting, doing Sudoku, and visiting with her granddaughter, Olivia, on FaceTime. She is co-founder and past president of the Long Island chapter of Sisters in Crime.

Murder the Tey Way

Professor Lexie Driscoll is discussing Josephine Tey’s books at a Golden Age of Mystery book club meeting when her sister Gayle arrives, terrified for her life. She had witnessed her boyfriend’s murder and fears the murderer is coming after her. The next morning a man’s body is found lying in Lexie’s backyard. Gayle takes off, and Lexie is worried that her sister may have murdered the man, believing he’s been sent to kill her. Determined to learn the truth, Lexie investigates. She discovers the book club members have secrets and hidden vices that lead to more murders and unexpected revelations.

Here is an excerpt:

            “Lexie, wake up!”

            I burrowed under my quilt to escape from the maddening person in my dream.

            The maddening person shook my shoulder hard. “You have to get up!”

            I blinked my way into consciousness. In the dim light, I saw my sister hovering over me, her eyes wide with fear.

            “What’s wrong?”

            “There’s a man in your backyard!”

            I sighed as I slipped out of bed and into the early morning chill. Seven o’clock, my clock said. My alarm was set to go off in an hour since I didn’t have to be at the university till eleven, but I had to calm my sister before she had an all out heart attack. I didn’t want a strange man in my backyard, especially with that peeper from last night. But neither was I especially worried. Ryesdale residents often gave themselves permission to cross their neighbors’ yards. Joy, who lived two houses from me in the opposite direction of the Roberts’ sisters, did it often enough when she stopped by for a visit. And I had faith in the alarm system Al had installed when I’d moved in.

            I peered out the window. “He’s gone.”

            Gayle pointed to the extreme left. “He’s lying face down on the lawn. Just beyond the patio.”

            “Oh!”

            She gripped my arm so tightly, I knew there’d be marks. “Do you think he’s dead?”

            Now I was worried. “I’ve no idea.”

            I raced into the kitchen, my sister behind me close as a shadow. I peered out the picture window. The man lay face down on the lawn. He hadn’t moved.

            I spun around to stare at Gayle. “How did you know he was out there?”

            She stared down at the floor. “I woke up hungry, so I made tea and toast. He was there when I looked outside the kitchen window.”

            “What time was this?”

            Gayle shrugged. “I’m not sure. Only minutes before I woke you up.”

            I opened the kitchen door and stepped into the cold, damp air. I crossed the cement patio to kneel beside him. My heart hammered so loud, I was sure Gayle, who had followed me outside, could hear it. I placed my fingers on his neck. No pulse. He was dead, all right, though I saw no head wound or bullet holes in his windbreaker jacket. Whoever had killed him had done it face-to-face.

            Looking closer, I saw blood had trickled from under the torso and into the earth. A black cap lay a few feet away. I started to hyperventilate. This was the man Joy had chased last night! There was something familiar about him and his cap, but no name came to mind.

            Who had killed him? 

            Why was he here?

            I rose unsteadily to my feet and stumbled backward into Gayle.

            “Is he dead?” she asked, helping me regain my footing.

            “Yes.”

            I stood there panting, too shaken to walk. Finally, I crossed the patio on rubbery legs. When I reached the door, I realized Gayle was still beside the body. I turned in time to see her reach out as if she meant to turn him over.

            “Don’t touch him!” I shouted.

            For a minute I thought she was going to ignore my order, then she followed me inside.

            I lifted the phone to dial 911. Gayle grabbed my hand. “Don’t call anyone!”

            “I have to call the police.” When she refused to relinquish her hold, I stepped back. Suddenly, I was afraid of my baby sister.

            Gayle’s face crumpled. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t kill that man. I don’t even know who he is.”

            “Then why don’t you want me to call the police?”

            “Call them after I’m gone,” she shouted over her shoulder as she ran to the front door.

            I chased after her. “Where are you going? A man was murdered. The cops will want to take your statement.”

            Gayle burst into tears. “I can’t talk to the police. I can’t!”

This week, I’m pleased to have talented author, A.J. McGuire, as my guest.

A.J. (Aimee Jean) Maguire believes that stories are the bedrock of humanity and that the answer to every question in life can be found in the tales that we tell. She also believes that spiders are the spawn of Satan and that her cat might just be the reincarnation of Dionysus; if, of course, a Greek god were capable of being reincarnated.

Her first science fiction, Deviation, was released by Double Dragon Publishing in August 2014 but her writing runs the gamut between Fantasy, Historical Fiction, and (soon-to-be) noire. Her novels can be found in all the virtual retailers (Barnes&Noble, Amazon, and Kobo.)

Sedition

Journey with Nelek Vronat Dyngannon, heir to the throne of Kiavana, as he fights to find the legendary Soul Stealer; an ebony blade rumored to have the power to free his lost mother. Dragging Trenna Croften in tow, his newest in a long line of bodyguards, the two struggle to evade the King’s faithful acolytes.

Their hunt forces them beyond the boundaries of their home and through the barrier said to lead to death. But all is not as it seems in Kiavana and someone forgot to caution Nelek on the effects of the Blade. Cursed from the moment he takes the sword Nelek finds he is no longer fighting just for his mother or the throne, but for the right to keep his own soul.

Here is an excerpt from, Sedition

“Should the worst of it come, take up my position and get the Prince out of here.”

Nelek snorted. “You could try not to speak of me as though I were not beside you, Dame.”

“Aye, Highness,” she grinned up at him. “But then I would not have the satisfaction of watching your ears turn pink with fury.”

He blinked down at her, unsure if he had heard her right. “Are you teasing me, Madame?”

“That’s Dame Trenna to you,” she corrected him. “And in answer to your question,” she paused and turned her attention eastward. “Yes, I suppose I was.”

“This is a new side of you. I’m not sure how to react.”

Flashing him an impish grin she patted his forearm in mock comfort. “The general reaction is a small smile, Highness. Perhaps a stifled chuckle. Or even the rare retort in good humor.”

His mouth twitched and he nearly did smile but he managed to keep his regal self about him. It was hard, considering the mischievous and rather becoming glitter to her eyes. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun, copper with the damp air and that damnable smile of hers was suddenly the most fetching thing he had seen in his life.

“Do you always go insane just before battle?” He found his voice somewhere, though it sounded choked.

She giggled, holding a hand over her mouth to try and keep it quiet. As prone as he was to thinking she had no real feminine tendencies he was quite shocked and pleasantly surprised to hear it. As odd and misplaced as their setting may be he smiled in response to it, unable to tear his gaze from the woman beside him.

And then the fire started in the east.

Buy Links:

AJMaguire Website : http://www.ajmaguire.com/

Amazon Home Page : http://www.amazon.com/A.-J.-Maguire/e/B004K5RHSY

Barnes& Noble Page: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/c/a.-j.-maguire

AJ and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to comment on this blog post.

This week I’m happy to host my fellow Wings ePress author, Diana Febry

Diana is married with two (almost grown-up) children and she lives in the UK. As well as writing, she’s an active member of a drama group and a competitive horse rider. She’s lucky enough to stable her horses on the Duke Of Beaufort’s estate, and her stories are loosely based there.

Bells On her Toes

Investigate with DCI Peter Hatherall as animal rights and environmental activists heat up the scene around the Earl of Ditchburn’s country estate. Peter finds himself in a race of his own at the Elmsgrove Racehorse Yard as murder and mayhem run rampant. But be careful who you bet on, as although the clues are there, my aim is to mislead you until the last page.

Here is an excerpt:

Jolted from her reverie, Gladys withdrew from the window when the golf buggy came into sight. She called to Bert to come in for lunch and headed to the kitchen. The kitchen was like everything at Elmsgrove…over-sized, expensively decorated with solid wood furniture and plastered with horse images. Gladys placed the plates on the heavy oak table as the three men, her boys, scraped their chairs along the stone floor. It was like clockwork, every day of every year. Gladys was sure…if she ran away, her absence would register only after they looked down to see empty table mats. Only Bert had the decency to wash his hands before sitting down. She had given up insisting a long time ago.

Through a mouthful of food, Ben said, “Did you give a statement to the police?”

Gladys put down her cutlery and finished chewing before replying. “I don’t think so. They spoke to me, but nothing was written down.”

“Poor sod, shot through the head they reckon,” Ben continued as he slurped his cup of tea.”

“Must be some Townie,” Mike said. “A drug dealer or an addict, I reckon. Maybe they screwed the bird of the local gang leader and got caught.”

“Michael, not at the table,” Gladys said. She watched the three of them with heads bent over their plates, shovelling in the food without tasting it.

“Bloody fools the police are,” Ben said, waving his fork. “Don’t know their asses from their elbows. Would you believe they started asking questions about my insurance claim from years back? Complete idiots.”

“I expect the proper police will appear tomorrow, Dad. Today’s lot were just the local bobbies who deal with shoplifting and stuff like that.”

Picking at her food, Gladys imagined her picture in the newspapers with the headline, ‘Resting actress solves murder mystery.’ The report went on to say, “Gladys, a well-loved member of the community, solved the case when the local police failed. She gave up her glittering career on the brink of stardom to support her husband’s dreams of training a winner. She was coy and modest when the chief of police thanked her publicly for her gallant bravery and fortitude.

“Gladys! Gladys! Are you listening, woman?”

“Sorry darling, what did you say?”

“I’m going to finish at least an hour late tonight, because of the time wasted dealing with the police.”

Gladys started to clear away the empty plates. “I’ll make supper an hour later, then, sweetie.”

“What are you planning to do this afternoon?”

Placing the plates in the dishwasher, Gladys said, “I might go out for a drive to look for clues.”

“Well for God’s sake, stay out of the way of the police.”

“Don’t worry, darling. I shall wear my invisibility cloak.”

Taking his coat from the stand in the hallway, Ben said, “I do wonder sometimes, what goes on in that daft woman’s head.”

 My Review of Bells on Her Toes

Two dead bodies in a week, a horse virus spreading through a racing yard and a missing groom. With plenty of suspects, DCI Peter Hatherall and DI Fiona Williams have their hands full trying to solve the murders and find the person responsible for all the mayhem while dealing with the problems in their personal lives. I’ve always loved reading British mysteries, and this one was well worth the read. Diana Febry had me guessing until the very end. This story had quirky characters, an intriguing plot with “as many twists and turns as a county lane,” and a great twist at the end. I highly recommend Bells On Her Toes. ✰✰✰✰✰

Amazon link – http://www.amazon.com/Bells-Her-Toes-Diana-Febry-ebook/dp/B00N8A9HJY/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1411142339&sr=1-1

Direct from publisher – http://wingsepress.com/

Facebook page http://www.facebook.com/DianaJFebry

This week, I’m pleased to host author, Liz Mugavero

Liz Mugavero is the author of the Pawsitively Organic Mysteries. The first book in the series, Kneading to Die, is an Agatha Award nominee for Best First Novel. A Biscuit, A Casket, is available now. As you can imagine, her canine and feline rescues demand the best organic food and treats around. She holds a Bachelor of Arts in English from Salem State College and a Master of Arts in writing and publishing from Emerson College. She is a member of Sisters in Crime, Sisters in Crime New England, Mystery Writers of America, and the Cat Writers’Association.

 A Biscuit, A Casket

The small town of Frog Ledge, Connecticut, has wholeheartedly embraced Kristan “Stan” Connor’s new business–preparing quality organic treats for dogs and cats. On a healthy diet, the animals may live longer. . .but one local farmer won’t be so lucky. As Halloween approaches, Stan is asked to cater a doggie costume party hosted by the Happy Cow Dairy Farm. Part of a local co-op, Happy Cow specializes in organic dairy products, and farmers Hal and Emmalee Hoffman have started opening up the farm for parties, offering a “haunted” corn maze as an added attraction.

When Hal’s lifeless body is found in the maze, the police at first suspect his wife, but Stan soon learns the dairy farmer had plenty of enemies–from bitter family members to shady business associates. If Stan can’t extract a kernel of truth from the labyrinth of lies, she may be the next one to buy the farm.

 Here is an excerpt: 

Emmalee bolted out of the gate and raced to the corn maze behind the vampire, Stan on her heels. Stan hoped Em knew her way around the maze, otherwise they’d be running through it like beheaded chickens. She’d been lost in a corn maze once and it hadn’t been pretty. Then again, she was quite directionally impaired.

Yellow, coarse corn stalks slapped at her as she hurried after Em, heart pounding, wondering what in the world was happening and wishing she had sneakers on instead of  her glittery gold flats. Then again, she had planned on hosting a bunch of dogs on the patio, not running willy-nilly through a corn maze. The vampire led them through a series of twists and turns, slowing when they came into a straightaway.

Stan could already see a crowd of costumed people gathered up ahead. A short, skinny girl dressed like an evil nymph clutching the hand of a boy with a fake ax through his head fled past them, heading away from the scene. They were both crying, which sent a stab of dread through Stan’s belly. She’d been hoping to find Hal with a broken bone or something, after tripping and falling in one of the cornstalks. But why would people be fleeing from the scene crying? Stan thought of Danny Hoffman with his chainsaw and hoped he hadn’t been part of an accident.

They finally reached the crowd at what appeared to be the top of the witch’s pointy hat within the maze design. They were at the end of the field. Emmalee elbowed her way through the crowd of kids. A girl wearing the bottom half of a werewolf costume sobbed. A boy with Dracula fangs had his arm around her shoulder. Stan could see his fingers, white with tension, digging into her arm.

Then Stan heard another noise – a wailing sound, starting out low in volume, then reaching a disturbing crescendo. Emmalee had reached the front of the crowd, and whatever she saw was not good.

Stan moved forward to stand behind her, peering around Emmalee’s shoulder. In the growing darkness, she could just make out a figure behind the short, wire fence containing the corn, face up, upper half immersed in a mud puddle left over from the weekend rain. She moved closer to get a better view. And wished she hadn’t. A menacing, hook-shaped weapon protruded from Hal Hoffman’s chest, a dark stain covering most of his upper body, staining his blue and green flannel shirt. His eyes were open. Empty.

For a second, she thought maybe this was the farmer’s idea of a bad joke. A staged murder in the corn maze for full Halloween effect. She waited for Hal to jump up, laughing, and pull the rubber prop out of his chest. Chide them all for falling for it.

But he didn’t.

A Biscuit, A Casket

www.lizmugavero.com

Facebook
Twitter

Wicked Cozy Authors

Liz and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.

This week, my guest author is Sylvia Selfman

My first novel, The Hard Heart of Mrs Living-Stone, was received with much fanfare and acclaim (at least, by my parents and my third grade teacher). At that point I knew I was destined to become a writer. However, being the procrastinator that I was, I put off writing my second novel until I finished my education (Ohio State), worked as a copywriter in New York, got married, moved to Miami, raised two daughters, became a  librarian, a yoga teacher and a small business owner.

When I finally retired to Palm Springs, I had no more excuses. I joined a writer’s group and voila! My second novel, Murder Never Retires, was born.

My third novel Murder She Typed quickly followed and I am now finishing up the sequel, Murder By the Book.

Murder She Typed

Izzy Greene, a widow of a certain age, joins a writing group in an attempt to actually finish one of her stories. She gets more than she bargained for, however, when her nemesis, sexy blonde bombshell, Sondra Sockerman disappears under suspicious circumstances. Izzy soon realizes that she has a natural detecting ability––and  she and her friend, Flo, set out to find the killer…who is now after them.

Here is an excerpt:

Murder She Typed 

What does it feel like to die?

I guess I’ll soon find out.

I can hear the footsteps coming closer.

That’s what I get for being so nosy. I should have left well enough alone.

I can see the glint of a gun.

It’s strange what goes through your head as death approaches. Where are all the deep thoughts? Like I should have been a better, kinder, more giving person.

Instead I’m thinking why didn’t I finish off the chocolate cake at breakfast like I wanted?

I’m cornered like a scared rabbit. And all I can think of is a line from ‘Little Caesar’. ‘Is this the end of Rico?’

Is this the end of Izzy?

Chapter 1 

I dragged myself into the kitchen and before I was able to figure out how to work my new coffeemaker, the phone rang.

My friend, Flo, has this uncanny seventh sense to know when I awaken––no small feat considering one of the few advantages of getting older was waking up whenever I felt like it. Or whenever my bladder dictated.

“Izzy, we’re walking this morning,” Flo announced in her drill sergeant voice.

“Outside?”

I balanced the phone between my shoulder and ear as I struggled with my new coffeemaker. It was a battle of woman versus machine that I was determined to win.

“No, on the moon.”

“Forget it then.”

Yesterday I spotted at least three new wrinkles and another age spot. It took a candy bar plus the frozen remains of a Sara Lee pound cake to lift me out of my depression.

“Damn!” I punched the buttons on the machine. “How does this thing work?”

My twelve year relationship with my coffeemaker came to an abrupt end the other day, so I took it back to Bed Bath and Beyond. The clerk looked at it, raised his eyebrow and sniffed, “In what era did you say you bought this?”

I was about to offer a nasty retort when I spotted it––one of those shiny new pod coffeemakers just begging to be taken home. I toyed with the idea of obtaining its larger, more expensive sibling but quickly came to my senses. Who was I kidding? I opted for the small version––the one for a single user. It was a sign of the times––of my times anyway.

Flo interrupted my musings. “You’re mumbling to yourself again. Okay, don’t go walking. Keep running in place on your treadmill.”

Running in place––an apt description for what I’d been doing for the past three years, since Sam, my husband of thirty-five years, died.

“I was hoping you’d join me on a heart-healthy, twenty minute walk to Starbucks. I guess I’ll have to enjoy my latte with extra whipped cream and ultra rich, double chocolate muffin by myself.”

“Meet you in ten,” I said, slamming down the phone.

Ten minutes later, I was struggling to keep up with Flo. “Hey, slow down. I’m about to have a heart attack.”

“No time to waste,” she yelled back. “They’re going to run out of double chocolate muffins any minute now.”

Heart attack forgotten, I doubled my speed.

Flo and I carried our lattes and well-earned muffins outside. A modern day Lewis and Clark, we scanned the area for an empty table.

 “Over there,” I pointed.

 As we made our way over, I spotted a woman who obviously had the same idea. We locked eyes. Then-–as though a whistle simultaneously went off in our heads––the race was on.

By some miracle Flo and I managed to avoid smashing into an elderly woman with a walker and a gentleman walking two pugs.

Out of breath, we collapsed into the seats and avoided even a glance in the direction of our adversary. I’ve never been one to gloat over my victories––few as they are.

When our breathing returned to normal, Flo and I plunged into our double chocolate muffins with a religious fervor that a rabbi or minister could only wish for. After a few minutes I came up for air.

 “By the way,” I said, “I went to that new doctor who just joined Dr. Harrison’s practice. The one that everyone says looks like a cross between Liam Neeson and Steve McQueen?”

“Lucky you. Did you get to undress for him?” 

“I didn’t have to. I went there to pick up a prescription. However, I did come away with a diet that’s guaranteed to work.”

“You went for a prescription and he gave you a diet? Then he did see you naked!”

I ignored Flo’s comment and pulled a magazine page from my fanny pack and handed it to her.

“Check it out. I found it in a Good Housekeeping while I was waiting.”

Okay, I admit it. I’m one of those people who surreptitiously rips out pages from magazines in doctors’ and dentists’ offices. So go ahead and shoot me. Of course I’d never do that at my hairdresser’s––much too risky.

But I harbor no guilt—since I can’t tell you how many times I’ve flipped to articles about the ugly toes or cellulite-ridden thighs of glamorous movie stars, only to find them missing.

As Flo and I pored over the article, 10 Ways to Kick Start Your Weight Loss, we decided to split another muffin—no sense depriving ourselves before the start of a new diet.

You can join my mailing list or contact me at Seniorsnoops@aol.com

  Twitter: @seniorsnoopsgal

  https://www.facebook.com/sylvia.selfman

Murder She Typed can be purchased at the following:    http://tinyurl.com/q9dbuqn  

Sylvia and I would love to hear from you, so please feel free to leave a comment.