Sunday, November 20, 2016

Recipe: Pumpkin Dump Cake for the Holidays, Happy Thanksgiving


Pastor Christine Hobbs never imagined she would be caring for a flock 
that includes a pig, a kangaroo, and a murderer.
Romantic suspense

Hello and welcome to the Books We Love Insider Blog! I'm J.Q. Rose, author of the just-released romantic suspense, Dangerous Sanctuary.

The US Thanksgiving Day is this Thursday. Are you ready? In case you're looking for something different for your dessert table, I'm sharing a Pumpkin Dump Cake recipe with you. Not exactly an attractive name for a dessert, but it is delicious. (In fact my son-in-law who doesn't care for pumpkin pie loves this dish.)  The recipe is easy and quick to put together.

Every time I take it to a potluck (covered dish dinner), I receive compliments and requests for the recipe. So this will be a perfect dish to take to holiday gatherings, as well as serve to your family and friends at home.
Pumpkin recipes are very appropriate for this time of year, but this dessert is so good, you’ll even make it in the spring!
Pumpkins from our garden
Photo by J.Q. Rose
Pumpkin Dump Cake
1 x 29 oz.(812 grams) can pureed pumpkin
1 x 12 oz. (340 grams) can evaporated milk
3 eggs
1 cup (200 grams) sugar
1 tsp. (5 grams) salt
3 tsp (15 grams) cinnamon
1 box yellow cake mix 
1 cup (200 grams) chopped pecans or walnuts
¾ cup (140 grams) melted margarine

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F / 180 degress C / gas mark 4

Mix first 6 ingredients until well blended and pour batter into a 9 x 13 inch (23 x 32.5 cm) greased pan.

Sprinkle cake mix on top and cover with pecans.
Pour melted margarine over top.

Bake 50 minutes. Serve with whipped cream. Enjoy!
# # #

Gourds
Photo by J.Q. Rose
Wishing you a blessed and happy Thanksgiving.

“PIGLET NOTICED THAT EVEN THOUGH HE HAD A VERY SMALL HEART, IT COULD HOLD A RATHER LARGE AMOUNT OF GRATITUDE.”
― A.A. MILNE, WINNIE-THE-POOH

Connect with J.Q. Rose online at







Saturday, November 19, 2016

Why Women are Smarter than Men by Stuart R. West

https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B019BI3KUI&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_TP3kybRWQJ8RT
Okay, I have to admit, the title’s a “come hither.” Because I don’t know the answer. It’s just the truth, an undisputed fact of life.

Lord knows I never set out to be a feminist. It’s really not in my genetic chemical make-up, having been born and bred in the backward state of Kansas. Even my mom, who I used to think was the most independent woman ever, recently said, “Politics need men in office!”(She clenches her fists in a show of power.) “Someone who’s led by God. A man! A really strong man!”

I’m not gonna get into politics, let alone the silly, sexist rhetoric of her proclamation. But she’s wrong. 

Usually in my books, I begin with a male protagonist. But it’s the female characters who soon take center-stage, pretty much hijacking the action.  They’re shrewder, much savvier. They’re the characters who pull the clueless guy’s butt out of the fire . It just flows naturally, nothing I ever planned.

Because I write from proof. Maybe it comes from a deeply embedded mind-set that all men know but are unwilling to admit: women are more logical than men. Contrary to TV and movies, I believe women are ruled less by emotion. They can survive anything. If the movie, Rudy, played over wide-screen TV’s in a bar, the stool-campers would be reduced to tears in seconds.

And what do men like to do? Fix things! Heck yeah! Jump right in, make things right, no moss on us! But what happens when we can’t fix things? We get lost in a world that’s incomprehensible to us. After we’ve played out our ineffectual macho attempts to make things right, women swoop in and save the day.

So far this is all just theory. But based on my highly scientific research, here are the astonishing—yet absolutely true—findings:

FACT! While watching movies, I’m always the sobby mess by the end of it. I can’t even think about the kid movie, Homeward Bound, without fogging up. (Oh…that final scene…sniff). My wife asks if I’m alright. Totally embarrassing.  My “Man Card” should probably be revoked.

FACT! Outside of spider visits, my wife can handle any crisis. Made of steel. She’s more prepared for the End of the World, always thinking ahead, one foot set in the bomb shelter.

FACT! Our dog respects my wife more than me. Why? Because I’m the lovable playmate. Dang dog ignores me. But when my wife barks, the dog bows down. He’s no dummy.

FACT! Whenever confronted with a store or restaurant trauma, my wife’s the clean-up player. The way I “handle” the situation? I scream, shake and sweat like latter day Elvis. Heart attack in a Hawaiian shirt. Nothing good ever comes from my hissy-fits. My wife smoothly rolls in like a pavement layer and attains positive results with cool calm.

FACT! Women aren’t too proud to ask for directions. I mean, who does that, right?

FACT! Women live longer than men. Because, duh, they’re smarter.

If you’re a man reading this, I apologize, just ignore it. You'll forget about it soon enough. Women readers? You know I’m right.

For further FACTS, check out my “women are smarter than men books.” Every last one of ‘em features a woman as the hero. (Never mind the shirtless male model on the cover below; it's the character's wife who's the true hero).

Click on the cover below for a preview!
https://read.amazon.com/kp/embed?asin=B010KOI0SY&preview=newtab&linkCode=kpe&ref_=cm_sw_r_kb_dp_IY3kyb5NEJGKC
Sisterhood!

Friday, November 18, 2016

Researching Close to the Heart by Nancy M Bell

http://bookswelove.net/authors/bell-nancy/

Lately I've been doing research for my contribution to Books We Love Canadian Pioneer Bride Series. My story is set in Ontario during World War 1. The story line very roughly parallels my grandparent's story. My grandfather and his brother came to Canada as young boys sent to work and live in Ontario by Doctor Barnardo's homes in London's east end. They were the sons of the youngest son of thirteen siblings. Why none of the aunts and uncles stepped forward and took them in I have no idea. But they ended up in Doctor Barnard's Foundling Home after their father died. They came separately but somehow ended up being placed close to each other near Renfrew and Eganville in eastern Ontario. 

The boy who would become my grandfather enlisted in the army and went to France where he was a Sapper. His older brother followed him a short time later. My grandmother knew both boys but had an 'understanding' with the older brother.

Unfortunately, the older brother was killed on August 8, 1918 near a small French town called Marcelcave. He was in the first wave of troops that came out of the 'jumping off trench' and was cut down by enemy fire. The morning had been heavy with fog and the companies that were supposed to provide cover for the first wave of the attack didn't arrive in time. At first he was listed as Missing in Action but eventually his remains were identified. My grandfather was listed as his next of kin, so while he himself was still fighting he received the news his brother was first missing and then confirmed Killed in Action. My grandfather to be wrote to my grandmother telling her the news. They began a long distance relationship based on their mutual love for the private killed in action. 

My grandfather was part of the engineers and was gassed and buried alive for three days with another man. Eventually he was rescued and sent to convalesce in England. When he was returned to Canada after the war he ended up in Vancouver where he found a job peeling logs for Fraser Mills. He sent my grandmother her engagement ring hidden in a box of chocolates and she eventually travelled to Vancouver where they were married in New Westminster. I have changed a more than a few things in my story because a) it is a work of fiction and b) I needed to change things to fit with my requirements for the plot. I didn't want to write what would effectively be a non-fiction story about my grandparents, but there were some very interesting twists and turns that work very well for what I wanted for my plot.

Below is an artist's rendition of Marcelcave


I can only imagine what life was like in the mud filled trenches living on top of each other filthy and infested with lice and fleas.


Although the battle of Amiens (which Marcelcave was part of) was a huge victory there were many Allied casualties and wounded.


I have found that as I delve deeper into my family's past that the great uncle I never knew becomes more alive and a part of me. No war is pleasant and all wars are bloody and cruel affairs. Modern warfare with the ability to separate ourselves from the reality by the use of electronics and drones give the combatants some distance, but there are still those on the front lines who look the enemy they wish to kill in the eye and it is very visceral and real, much like the boys in the trenches of World War 1. I can only be glad that there is no longer a cavalry and that horses and mules are no longer required to move guns and equipment. The number of horses and mules killed and wounded is huge, the beasts had no say in whether they went to the front or not and certainly a large percentage of them were terrified. The more I dig the more real these things become, I only hope I can do justice to the era in my writing.

Remembrance Day has just passed and while I have always taken time on that day to honour those who fought and fell and in particular those whose blood lines I carry, this year it was all the more poignant when I paused to remember them on the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month. When my sons were young I always read In Flanders Fields to them and told them stories about their great grandfather, his brother who fought in WWI, and their great uncle who fought in World War II and was captured by the Germans and spent time as a prisoner of war.

His Brother's Bride will release early in 2017, I hope you enjoy the story I have cobbled together from my own ancestor's story and my fertile imagination. Please look for His Brother's Bride and when you read it spare a moment to bless and remember those who fought and those who fell.

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