Silvia Violet

Posts Tagged ‘holiday recipe’

Holiday Recipe Extravaganza – Lisa Worrall

Dec 6, 2011 Filed under: guest blogger, holiday, Holiday Recipe Extravaganza, m/m, recipes Tags: , , , ,

When Silvia asked me to provide a recipe for Christmas, there was only one thing that came straight to mind.  My Uncle Ken’s Yorkshire puddings.  They are legendary in our family, and no one has ever matched or surpassed them.  They are gorgeous covered in gravy with your Christmas dinner and he always cooked an extra batch for us kids to have later with jam (jelly to my American pals).

So here it is, the recipe for Uncle Ken’s Yorkshire puddings:-

Three cups of plain flour

Three eggs

¼ pint of full fat milk

¼ pint of cold water

Oil that the joint of meat is cooking in

Put the flour and eggs in a bowl and mix together roughly.  Then add the milk and water, and mix together until you have a batter of a nice thick consistency that will run off the spoon when you lift it up.  Place in fridge for two hours prior to cooking.


Take a bun tin (should make twelve or more, depending on the thickness you like) and put a teaspoon of oil from around the meat into each one, to cover the bottom.  Put on the top shelf of the oven until the oil is spitting nicely.  The key to good Yorkshires is the temperature of the oil, it has to be really hot.

Then place three desert spoons of mixture into each and put them on the top shelf of the oven on gas mark 7, um…. 220 degrees for thirty to thirty-five minutes until risen and golden brown.  Then shove into your mouth with reckless abandon 🙂


Excerpt from Mr Popsalos released by Silver on the 19 December 2011:

Pre-Order it now.

“Do you think his dad’s in Harry Potter?”

Luke looked up from his newspaper, a piece of raisin toast paused in mid-air on its way to his mouth, and raised an eyebrow at his six-year-old son. “Huh?” He wasn’t big on eloquence first thing in the morning, and the garbage truck had awoken him at the ass-crack of dawn.

“I said,” Reggie repeated with a roll of his big brown eyes. “His dad must be Harold in Harry Potter.”

“Hagrid,” Luke automatically corrected. “Whose dad?” He asked, folding his newspaper and giving his son his undivided attention. He had a feeling he was going to need all his little grey cells to decipher Reggie’s latest random statement.

“Mr Popsalos.”

“Mr Who?”

“Our new teacher helper,” Reggie huffed with all the patience of having to deal with someone of obviously limited intelligence.

“Mr Popsalos?” Luke repeated. He vaguely recalled the mention of a new assistant teacher and nodded sagely, as if he knew what the hell he was talking about. “Ah, yes, Mr Popsalos.” He scratched his chin and smiled softly. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but why do you think his dad is a giant?”

“Because he’s really, really big,” Reggie said in his best “duh” voice, as if Luke had just dribbled on himself. “You should write things down, Daddy.”

“Why?” Luke said, confused. He watched Reggie spoon more Cocoa Puffs into his mouth and crunch down on them, spraying little bits of toasted rice across the table as his son continued.

“Mrs Olsen said when you get old you forget things. She writes it down. So should you, or I can remember for you.” Reggie nodded happily to himself, taking a healthy slurp of his milk and leaving a white moustache on his upper lip.

Staring at Reggie for a few moments, his mouth hanging open in disbelief, Luke forced a smile onto his face and thanked his son for bowing to his great age and making allowances for his diminishing memory. Glancing up at the clock, he shoved the last bite of raisin toast into his mouth and carried his plate to the sink. “Dude, we gotta go. I’ve got a big presentation this morning and I need to get to work early. Do you have your shoes on?”

“Nope. What’s a—” he frowned “—restation?”

“Presentation.” Luke chuckled.

Reggie looked up at him for affirmation when he slipped his sneakers on, making sure he had them on the right feet. Luke gave him an encouraging nod.

“It’s when I have to stand up in front of a room full of people and try not to look like an idiot.”

“There’s a raisin in your teeth.”

Luke waited patiently while his six-year-old studied his face for further signs of idiocy. Then he flinched when Reggie sent up a war cry as he ran to put on his coat and grab his book bag from the peg. Don’t you just love it when they put you in your place?

“Okay, almost done.” Luke grinned, wrapping Reggie’s scarf around his neck and pulling the matching beanie onto the little boy’s head. He chuckled through their morning ritual of covering Reggie’s face with the beanie—Reggie complaining and Luke insisting that he looked better when you couldn’t see his face—ending with Reggie grabbing Luke’s beanie and doing the same to him.

“Right, in the car, little big man,” Luke urged, pulling open the door and shaking his head slowly when hurricane Reggie flew down the porch steps and sprinted to the car. The kid’s energy never ceased to amaze him. Locking the house behind them, Luke took the porch steps at a more sedate rate and opened the car, waiting for Reggie to climb in before he slid behind the wheel. “Okay… do we have everything? Book bag—check, lunch box—check, kid… aaah, I forgot the kid!”

Luke smiled to himself when the voice from the back deadpanned, “Daddy, I’m six.”

“Humor me,” Luke drawled, starting the engine. He pulled the car off the drive and eased into the steady stream of traffic heading towards downtown—then turned around and drove back to the house, running inside and grabbing the box of toys Reggie was donating to the Toys for Tots program. Luke groaned as he stowed the box in the trunk. He couldn’t believe it was only two weeks to Christmas. None of his shopping was done, and he still hadn’t booked the flight to his sister’s, not that Abbie would expect anything less than a last-minute panic attack from him anyway.

Climbing back behind the wheel and pulling off the drive for the second time, he sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. He’d planned to be mega-organized this year, but of course he had failed miserably again. Oh well, thank God for the Internet and express delivery.

When they arrived at the school, Luke parked in the closest space he could find and ushered Reggie out of the car. Checking they hadn’t left anything behind, he pressed the remote button on his key fob and grabbed Reggie’s hand. They trotted along the street and up the steps into the school, rushing to get out of the cold December air. Once inside, they walked quickly along the children-filled corridors, stopping outside the little boy’s bright red classroom door. Luke helped Reggie hang his coat up, unable to contain the smile when he saw the sprigs of mistletoe and strands of tinsel twined around each little peg. Making sure that his hat, gloves, and scarf were firmly secured in Reggie’s coat pockets, he dropped to his haunches.

“Okay, dude,” he said, lifting a hand and executing the handshake-fist-punch the two of them had perfected over the last three months—after a very serious six-year-old had declared that he was far too old to be kissed in public. As much as the statement had doubled him over like a knife had been plunged into his chest, Luke had swallowed his bruised pride, and the cool handshake they’d devised became the compromise he’d agreed to. “Now, don’t forget I’m going to be late tonight. Grandma is picking you up, and she’s staying over.”

“I won’t forget,” Reggie said indulgently, lifting a small hand to pat Luke’s cheek. “I’m not as old as you, remember?”

“Silly me,” Luke deadpanned, then stood up and ruffled the soft golden strands curling around Reggie’s ear, much to the boy’s disgust. “Have a good day and make sure you behave for Grandma. You’ll probably be asleep when I get home, so say your prayers and clean your teeth before bed, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“‘Bye, Daddy!” Reggie yelled, opening the door of the classroom and throwing over his shoulder as an afterthought. “I’m gonna ask him if his dad is Harold!”


Holiday Recipe Extravaganza – Ashlynn Monroe

Dec 3, 2011 Filed under: guest blogger, holiday, Holiday Recipe Extravaganza, recipes Tags: , , ,

Charlie St. Claire didn’t mean to let herself love the three terrified little boys the day she became their caseworker, but she did. The boys had unique issues, but with her typical positive hopeful attitude, she decided that she could give them a better life.

Everything was going well with her plan to adopt them until their deadbeat biological father wouldn’t give up his rights. When the brave eldest brother asked to see his father for Christmas, it gave her the perfect opportunity to confront the jerk and demand he see that she was what was best for his kids.

Richmond Wolfe hadn’t seen his sons in years. He had no idea that his estranged wife had taken such a downward spiral until she died of a drug overdose. It was just one more thing for him to feel guilty about. He couldn’t help what he’d become, but he’d tried to make up for it by leaving. Now some city-girl do-gooder wanted his kids. He wasn’t willing to give them up because he loved them.

Soon Charlie discovers Richmond’s terrible secret. It explains so much, but also puts her and the boys in danger. Burgeoning feelings for the hunky outdoorsman fill her with confusion and something more.

If you want a sweet, albeit passionate romance this Christmas, try my story A Daddy for Christmas from Silver Publishing.  If you like adventure and werewolves, you’ll love this quick read.  In my story Richmond and his boys really like venison, my whole life I’ve had hunters in my life and as you can imagine game was often served on our table.  Christmas Eve supper was always a choice of venison chili or oyster stew growing up.  Here’s my recipe for venison chili.  (Turkey works just fine too.)

1 lb ground venison                                                1 can mild chili beans

1/2 lb ground beef                                                1 can red kidney beans

1/2 lb ground pork                                                1 can baked beans

1 small onion chopped,                                      1/8 cup chili powder

1 small green pepper chopped                                    2 stalks celery chopped

Mix the meat, peppers, celery, and onion together.  Brown over medium heat then drain, add chili powder and 1/8 cup water.  Cook for approximately five minutes.  Add beans, mix well, cook for another five minutes or until hot.  Serve with sour cream and cheese if desired.  This is great in bread bowls.

Learn more about Ashlynn at her website.

Holiday Recipe Extravaganza – Bebe Burnside

Nov 30, 2011 Filed under: contemporary, guest blogger, holiday, Holiday Recipe Extravaganza, m/m, recipes Tags: , , , ,

I am not what one could call a gourmet chef.  I do, however, every Christmas Eve make this very simple salsa dip for my brother and sister-in-law’s annual Christmas Eve party.  It always goes over big.  I made the mistake of not making it one year and everyone was mad at me.

Salsa Dip

Start with a pie dish or something that is fairly shallow and microwave safe.

Cover the bottom with sour cream (light or regular, it’s up to you)

Next add a layer of salsa (I use mild; I’m a wimp, get as spicy as you like.  If your industrious feel free to make your own)

On top of that add shredded cheese (I use a Mexican blend, but again get creative)

Pop it in the microwave for about 3 minutes or until the cheese is nice and melted.  Serve with your favorite tortilla chips, or crackers, or melba toast, or bread, anything that floats your boat.  It’s quick, easy, and ever so yummy.  It’s the exact kind of thing Bruce might have whipped up for Martin in The Prize, on a cold winter night when they just wanted to stay in and cuddle.

The Prize by Bebe Burnside


High school English teacher, Bruce Michaels, has his life right where he wants it, or so he thinks. When his nose isn’t buried in a book, he’s teaching or taking a class for fun. When he learns that his favorite author is coming to the small Vermont town where he lives to teach a class in English literature, Bruce jumps at the opportunity to audit the class and get a chance to talk to Nobel Prize winning author, Martin Welder. But expectations rise when he finally meets the award winning author, and becomes interested in more than his mind.


“This is it,” Bruce said as they walked in. “Do you want anything?  I have wine, water, tea, coffee.”

“It’s adorable,” Martin said as he looked around. “Wine sounds nice.”

Bruce smiled and went to the kitchen to select a bottle of wine as he said, “Make yourself at home.”

Bruce chose a Merlot that his parents had given him.  He opened it and poured a glass for Martin and a half glass for himself.  After all, he would have to drive Martin home later.  Then he thought about it, they could always get Martin a cab.  The campus wasn’t that far away and Bruce would offer to pay for it.  He added the additional wine to his glass.

He walked into the living room to find that Martin had taken off his shoes, jacket and tie and was sitting on the couch.  He smiled at Bruce.  “Well, you did say make yourself at home and that’s the first thing I do when I get home.”

Bruce grinned, handing one glass to Martin before taking a seat on the easy chair next to the couch.

Martin took a sip of the wine. “Mmmm, this is good.  A Merlot?”

“My parents gave it to me for some occasion, probably my birthday or Christmas.”  Bruce took a sip. He wasn’t surprised that it was good; his parents did have good taste in wine.  They both drank in silence.  Bruce wanted to invite Martin to stay, but he suddenly felt shy.  Why would a Nobel Prize winning novelist want anything to do with him?  He could just lean over and kiss Martin and see what happens.  After all, Martin did agree to come over.  It was probably assumed something might happen.

“Are you coming back soon?” Martin asked softly.

“What was that?” Bruce asked.

“You seem to be thinking about something.”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said, realizing that he’d been distracted by the wine and worrying about Martin. “Um, well, I’ll be blunt.  I would like you to stay the night.  It’s been a while for me, but I really like you and, well, I would like to…well, that is, um, I mean.”  Bruce couldn’t believe he was so tongue tied.

Suddenly Martin was kneeling in front of his chair.  “Let’s see if I get your drift. ”

Check out The Prize at amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, and Seventh Window.

Learn more about Bebe Burnside at her blog or Facebook.

Holiday Recipe Extravaganza – JR Loveless

Nov 29, 2011 Filed under: contemporary, excerpts, guest blogger, holiday, Holiday Recipe Extravaganza, m/m, recipes, sweet treats Tags: , , , ,

Since I was a baby, my mother has always made pumpkin bread from a recipe she’s had since before I was born. Whenever I have it, it brings back memories of family, friends, and loved ones.  I wanted to share this amazing recipe with everyone along with an excerpt from my new upcoming Silver Publishing’s Dreaming of  a White Christmas release ‘White Rain’. Snow brings memories back for the main character, reminding him of the one person he loves more than anything. Enjoy a slice of the most amazing pumpkin bread while reading my newest release due out December 8th! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone!




Pumpkin Bread


1 tsp nutmeg

                  3 cups sugar

                  1 tsp cinnamon

                  4 eggs

                  1 cup oil

                  1 1/2 tsp salt


Mix the first six ingredients. Add the following in order:


                  1 cup canned pumpkin

                  2/3 cup water

                  2 tsp baking soda

                  3 cups flour


Pour into 2 greased and floured loaf pans or 3 (1lb) coffee cans. Bake at 350 degrees about 1 hour. Check with a toothpick, if it comes out clean, that means it’s done.




Silver Publishing’s Dreaming of a White Christmas ‘White Rain’


Brand has spent the last four Christmases without the one man he loves more than anything. After Kia left for college, everything changed. Can Brand forget Kia, or will Santa Claus bring him what he wants most for Christmas?


Kia stared at his best friend’s back in silence. He watched Brand’s muscles ripple beneath the dark gray shirt he wore. Brand looked even more beautiful than the last day he’d seen him. He still had a good six inches on him, but Brand’s body had filled out in all the right places. Amber haircut and combed neatly made Kia’s fingers itch to muss it all up, and it stung that he didn’t have the right to do it anymore. Not yet at least. The steel gray eyes he adored had seemed so cold as they’d studied him out on the front porch. Even now Brand refused to look at him.

Watching his friend setting a fire to crackle in the fireplace sent melancholy spiking through him. He’d missed Brand every single day, so much so it began to feel as though he couldn’t breathe, but he’d been determined to give Brand a reason to be proud to have him in his life.


Pain twisted his insides at how much he’d hurt Brand in his selfishness. It wasn’t until he’d spoken to Brand’s mother that he realized how much he had. She’d told him that Brand was  always alone and seemed so withdrawn from people after he’d left. The solemn facade had drawn him to Brand in the beginning. They’d met when they were thirteen; Brand kept to himself, either reading a book or staring into space. Regardless of the cold reception he received at first, Kia kept trying day after day to draw him out of his shell. It took time, but eventually he’d succeeded and Brand had opened up to him. It appeared that his desire to protect himself had only served to return Brand to the solitary person he’d once been. His throat felt dry as he searched for the words to explain why he’d stopped calling Brand, stopped writing or e-mailing him. How could he make him understand that he’d only done it because it hurt too much? Every time he’d talked to Brand on the phone, every letter or e-mail he’d read about his friend’s life, sent a knife straight into his heart. “I missed you, Bran,” he finally choked out around the lump in his throat.


Brand gave a cynical snort and turned hard eyes toward him. “Missed me, Kia? When? When you were too busy to come to the phone? Or maybe it was when you never returned my letters?”


Kia moved toward Brand only to stop as Brand took a step back. His heart sank even lower into his stomach, but he persisted in trying to make the one man he loved more than anything understand why he’d done what he had. The silence stretched out for long moments between them before he found what to say. He hugged himself as he started talking, staring anywhere except at Brand. “When I left for college, it was hard, Bran. So hard to be away from you. I wanted nothing more than to come home. But I couldn’t. I had to finish because I didn’t want to end up like my mom.”


Brand didn’t reply.


“I thought the more contact we had, the easier it would be. But it wasn’t. It was harder and made me miss you even more. So I selfishly started avoiding your calls and replying to your letters. At least, sending my replies to you. I wrote a letter every week telling you about school, work, and any little thing that came to mind but I never mailed them. I couldn’t.”


He had an entire bag filled with the letters he’d written Brand. One long letter every week for two years was a lot of letters. He’d planned on giving them to Brand when he returned and they were still in his suitcase out on the front porch. “I need you to understand, Bran. I wanted you to be able to be proud of me and have someone in your life worth knowing. Not someone who’d come from a poor family and has a weak mother with a bastard for a stepfather.”


“I didn’t care about that,” Brand said hoarsely, his hands clenched at his sides. When he looked up at Kia, Kia’s heart broke even further at the anguish in Brand’s eyes. “I needed you, Kia. You promised you’d never leave me.”


Kia took a tentative step forward, his heart lifting when Brand didn’t move away this time. He continued until he stood right in front of him. Brand’s dark amber hair seemed longer than he’d remembered it, and there were lines around his mouth and eyes that hadn’t been there before. He reached up to lightly trace those lines with the tip of one finger. “I didn’t leave you, Bran. You never left my mind, my thoughts. All I could think about was getting home to you. I’m sorry. I never realized how much it would hurt you.”


Brand’s lips twisted and he reached up, grabbing Kia’s wrist to stop his movements. But he didn’t push Kia’s hand away. He merely kept it in the loose manacle his fingers made. “Not hurt me, Kia? I…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard.


“What, Bran?” Kia pushed closer until the fronts of their bodies rested against one another. “Talk to me. Please.”


It didn’t look like Brand would say anything at first. His mouth opened and shut several times but nothing came out. Kia’s face fell. He wondered if maybe Brand had moved on without him and no longer loved him. He’d known how Brand felt about him. He’d seen it in the way he looked at him, the way he would unconsciously move his body toward him when they talked or almost hovered over him protectively in large crowds. It had taken the knowledge of Brand’s feelings to make him realize he didn’t want Brand saddled with a high school graduate who would go nowhere in life.


A whisper of words left Brand’s lips, sending agony crashing over him like a tidal wave. “I loved you, Kia. You broke my heart when you left, when you stopped replying to my e-mails and returning my phone calls.”


Loved? Did Brand no longer love him? Kia’s eyes grew moist but he blinked back the tears. He knew he had no right to expect him to love him after he’d practically cut all ties with him. “I’m sorry, Bran,” Kia murmured. “I always intended on coming back. I could never leave you

for good because I’ve loved you almost from the moment I met you.”


Brand stiffened, his gaze snapping up to meet Kia’s in shock. Kia smiled softly, reaching to cup Brand’s cheek. “Why do you think it hurt so much to leave you and why I wanted to come back home so badly? I do love you, Bran. I always have and I always will. Can you forgive me and

allow me to earn back your love?”

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