Sugar Cream Pie or Hoosier Pie or Indiana Sugar Cream Pie is the unofficial state pie of Indiana; however, we still like to celebrate. Native Hoosiers believe the Quaker settlers in the early 19th century selected east-central Indiana, close to my home around the cities of New Castle, Portland, Richmond, and Winchester.
The Amish are also known for having the honor of delivering a delectable dessert. Here is my family recipe…just in case you want to celebrate Sugar Cream Pie Day on March 14.
For the Crust:
2 ½ cups wheat or all-purpose flour (wheat has more fiber & healthier)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon sugar
2 sticks (1 cup) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces.
1/4 to 1/2 cup ice water
Or in my recent world buy a store-bought pie crust.
Ingredients for the pie:
⅓ cup wheat or all-purpose flour, plus more for work surface
½ stick (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter
1 cup whole milk or low fat but it won’t taste the same
1 cup heavy cream
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Make the crust: Whisk flour, salt, and sugar in a large bowl. Add butter: quickly cut in with a pastry blender or I use two knives or my fingers until mixture resembles coarse meal, with some larger pieces remaining. Drizzle 1/4 cup water over mixture and mix with a fork until mixture just begins to hold together. If dough is too dry, add 1/4 cup more water, 1 tablespoon at a time.
Divide dough in half onto two pieces of plastic wrap. Gather into two balls, wrap loosely in plastic, and press each into a disk using a rolling pin. Refrigerate until firm, well wrapped in plastic, 1 hour or up to 1 day. Dough can be frozen up to 3 months; thaw in refrigerator before using.
Make the pie: On a lightly floured surface, roll out 1 ball to a 13-inch round, about 1/8 inch thick. Fit dough into a 9-inch pie dish and press into bottom edges and up the sides. Trim edge, leaving a 1-inch overhang; fold edge under and crimp as desired. Freeze 15 minutes or chill in fridge for 20 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees with the rack located in the lower third. Line crust with parchment paper, gently pressing the parchment into the edges of the crust; weigh down parchment with dried beans or pie weights. Important so the crust doesn’t bubble.
Bake until the edges of the pastry begin to turn golden, about 25 minutes. Carefully remove pie weights and parchment paper, use fork to pierce and prevent bubbles. Continue to bake until crust is golden brown in color, about 15-20 minutes more. Transfer the crust to a wire rack to cool slightly.
Melt butter in a medium saucepan. Add flour and cook, whisking, over medium heat for 2 minutes. Do not let get dark. Whisk in milk, cream, sugar, and vanilla. Bring to a boil; reduce heat to medium-low and simmer until thickened, 5 to 7 minutes. Strain mixture into cooled crust and bake until filling is slightly set, about 25 minutes. Let cool completely on a wire rack before serving.
I recently lost my beloved blue-eyed Sheltie. She was almost sixteen years and as much as I wanted to cling to her and keep her longer, she was suffering and needed relief from her pain. The vet experience was very soothing and her transition into the afterlife was peaceful. My blue-eyed baby rested her head on my arm, even at the end trying to provide comfort to me.
We walked every day. Shelties are an intelligent dog with an internal clock that doesn’t compare to any other time mechanism on Earth. Once a routine was established, she expected the routine to be exact…regardless of my schedule, weather, or external factors. She loved snow and bounced around in the cold ice scooping up mouthfuls of the delightful winter treat.
Here she is a few days before she passed.
She provided comfort when I was sad, lonely, or in pain. She loved without any expectations, whole-heartedly loyal and true to her devotion. I loved her and miss her so much my heart aches.
The Pet Crematorium gave us Blue-eyes remains and a poem titled, Rainbow Bridge which claims When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone else, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor. Those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing, they each miss someone very special to them, who has to be left be kind. They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent. His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face, your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart.
Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together…
I don’t believe the theory. I love the concept, the idea this could occur; however, I believe the soul of a creature, human, remains with us (either constant or appearing when needed) until we move onto another realm.
A few years prior to my Sheltie passing, we had the good fortune to rescue a dog, Riley. She was amazing. Her hard life, abused, undernourished and previously impregnated by a much larger dog. When she came to us, we bathed, groomed and fed her until she relaxed and quickly became part of our family. Blue-eyes, as congruent with her personality, accepted her and shared her treats. Riley would take the “extra” bone and store them in a special location. Oddly enough she was like my spouse, a little OC, and lined her bones in a neat row. This intelligent dog, a mutt, adopted us and we were forever grateful. After her passing we moved her urn to Muncie, Indiana where we’d purchased a home close to my husband’s family. Eventually, he would commute to work until we decided what we wanted to do in the future.
Once when we were at our Fort Wayne house, we received an alarm alert and checked the tiny abode camera. Both of us witnessed the image of Riley standing on a chair looking out a window. All of her unique black and white markings were apparent. We glanced at each other as if to say, is this for real. When we looked back at the screen she had disappeared.
This event gave me a great deal of comfort…and now that my faithful companion has passed on, I WANT to feel her presence. But what if her divine soul has graduated to the next level of divinity? Blue-eyes had a pure soul.
What do you think? Does a beloved pet travel to this magical place to wait or remain with us in spirit, or perhaps elevate to the next level?
Boulders painfully placed around our pond, and the “view” was coming together. After frequent trips to the garden centers, our plans changed. We needed to have an arbor, a gazebo, to help prevent the beautiful sun from creating more skin cancer. As my husband situated several bags of cement and multiple bundles of treated lumber in our vehicle, I returned one of those long bed trolley carts. I’m not familiar enough with the device to tell you what its proper title is―I called her “Nellie”.
As in, “Whoa Nellie”.
The man’s toes barely missed being crushed under the wheels of the cart.
He jerked his sandaled feet back.
I straightened my BSU ball cap, tucked loose strands tighter behind an ear and sheepishly grinned. “Sorry, I’m not sure how to drive this thing.”
“That’s all right. I’ll take it from you.” He shot a hundred-watt smile., literally he must have just had his teeth whitened.
I tilted my cap and searched his face for falsity. None. He’d been sincere. No aggression from smashing his bare toes into the pavement. Now confident, I grabbed Nellie’s metal bar handle and swung her around. His fingers slid over mine as he quickly grabbed the rein.
“Thank you.” He nodded and winked.
“Sure.”
I climbed into the passenger side of my vehicle and smiled. “Ready?”
“Did you enjoy flirting?”
I fastened the seatbelt. Maybe I misunderstood what he said. “What?”
“The guy was flirting with you.”
“What?” Had I been out of the first-meet-sexual-tension pool so long I couldn’t recognize when someone was flirting with me?
“The guy, he was flittering with you.”
I glanced around to see where Nellie might be leading the guy. What did the flitter look like? I couldn’t describe anything about him but his toes. Was he cute? I’m climbing the ladder of age and if a guy looked twice at me, I wanted to get an image. Granted, I exercise and if it wasn’t for those damn little lines near my eyes and forehead frown wrinkles my age would be an unknown to most.
I pondered my guy’s comment on the drive home. After we unloaded the yard improvement items, I searched of the current state or art of flirting. Had the process changed in the past several years since I said I do?
I use flattery in my writing, during the initial meet/greet for the hero and heroine. Fear that I had I missed using adulation in the right manner I sorted through articles and compared my thoughts to what has been written.
The use of flattery: the element of surprise makes it more effective. Say hello with energy. I guess nearly running over the man’s toes with a metal trolley accomplished both. His nice response was effective and reminded me of the first meeting of Stein and Kerry in The Tarot Card?
Umm, Stein helped Kerry remove her skirt during the first thirty minutes after they met. Surprise was rampant and sexual tension grew stronger.
Make direct eye contact. Yep, had that with my sexy stranger at the garden center, (never caught a glimpse of him. In my mind, if I’m going to have a fantasy affair with a stranger he’s going to look like a young Robert Redford). If you lock eyes for a short time, a petite conversation will occur. If you hold the stare (not too long or it becomes creepy) then thunderbolts…an exciting conversation will follow.
Or fire-bolts! Tori has a fire-starting ability and sparks flew from her fingertips when she got her groove on with Henri, in Dark Shadows.
Emily was told the voice she was hearing wasn’t that of a ghost, but one of her Watcher. When told his name, she repeated “Zach”. The Watcher
Later in the scene: “Ye kin see me?” Zach uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
“Yes. I can see you. It feels wonderful to see and hear you at the same time.” His enlightened expression with the deep smile dimples tripped her heart. She crossed over to sit beside him.
“Zach, why do I need a watcher?”
“I canna tell ye.” He reached over and stroked her face.
She lifted her cheek seeking the warm breeze she’d come to know as his touch.
“We were acquainted in the past?”
“Why do ye believe we were?”
“It’s not really that I know, it’s…indefinable. I guess.” She resisted the urge to reach out and touch him. By making the connection, a caress, maybe she could identify the bond if one truly existed. If she spanned the distance, would her fingertips move through air, or would she feel a man’s skin?
Emily whispered his name as he was torn from her arms.
This scene segues into the next bit of flirting fun facts I discovered. People like to talk about themselves. Ask them a question, not an overly personal question, but a question to show you listened to what they had to say. They’ll likely tell you their life’s history, ambitions, and goals. Walk away or get closer, depending on the conversation.
Trade Agreement is a story of a woman being traded to a sea trafficker by her ex-husband. She’s suspicious of people. At the beginning of the story, she meets the hero, Jake, and being cautious Georgina asks questions.
“I’m Jake. Jake Callahan.” He continued to hold her hand, so a shake seemed unnecessary. Sweat glistened on his brow. A firm jaw was the perfect infrastructure for his flawless flushed lips. They stretched into a smile as she stared.
“I’m Gee. Georgina Grey. My friends call me Gee.” What is wrong with me? Construct a sentence. Impress him with my wit. Otherwise, I’m simply the bug-eyed, graceless, woman next door.
…He broke the contact and looked at her injury. His rough fingers on her knee multiplied the tingling in her lower region.
“There’s a small abrasion. You’ll probably have a heck of a bruise.”
“Are you a doctor?” She glanced at her right knee to see a nice round, red, spot forming underneath the white roughed skin.
Wow, this scene has it all. The hand touch, for a longer period, if she would have placed her other hand on the outside of his, for just a second it would have confirmed her flirting/attraction. She stared into his eyes and asked questions. Gee knows how to flirt!
Play with a piece of clothing or jewelry to attract and hold attention. Mikhail often twirled a medallion hanging from a chain around her neck. The innocent movement kept Jensen’s eyes focused on her…ah face. Believe
Whisper. An example of how effective a whisper can be is from Dead and Angry.
Griff stared at her for several minutes and then picked up the paper. “I’ll take this home and get some estimates to see if I can get better rates. The electricity must be updated. I found the original set of kitchen cabinets in the barn. I could probably sand and refinish them. The granite surface is satisfactory. If possible, we’ll reuse it. That might save you, ten to twenty grand.”
“You’re willing to do that?” Jacey asked in a whisper floating on the wind.
He touched the top of her hand. “I’ll see what I can do to help you. Are you willing to paint?”
She nodded. His generosity and kindness made her heart thump.
“I need to go into Cyan to get some materials. Do you want to go along, and we’ll select paint?”
Jacey whispered and Griff fell into the groove. He extended his kindness and prolonged the time they spent together. Great flirting!
Melody’s Song, I’m excited to say is one of the top ten best sellers as reported at Cobblestone Press. Melody left Devon wanting more, which is the most successful technique of flirting. Once you hit it off with someone you’re interested in, leave, making sure you’ll hear from them again.
Melody believed Jared to be out of ear-shot and yanked Dr. Devon’s arm. Wheeling round, he wore a surprised expression on his face.
“Dr. Devon, I’ll not be dictated to by you. I’m a volunteer. I’ll come and go as I please. If I have a previous commitment, not you or anyone else will manipulate me into altering my timetable. Sick children need a schedule, something they can depend on. Something they can control, because they don’t have any power over their health or how they feel. They can’t manage where they go or if they’ll ever be able to feel the sun on their face while playing ball outside. They need a fixed plan and to keep to it.” Her breaths came out in little unrealistic pants. She had the capacity to swim under water for three solid minutes, so why was she out of breath. Melody caught her image in the mirror on the wall. Her face had flushed as hot as it felt.
“Is that clear, Dr. Devon?” She enunciated each vowel, drawing the breath from deep down in her stomach.
The tick in his jaw could have adequately shaken her Slim-Fast meal. Oh no, what had she done? Doctors were put on a high pedestal, and visitors certainly shouldn’t talk to them with such a tone.
“Ms. Haney, it is very clear. It was my understanding you were a staff member paid to sing to the children to boost their spirits. I apologize for thinking otherwise and for your selfishness. Have a good day.” Devon pried her hand off his arm.
Her hand had gripped his skin for at least two minutes, and at one point her bright pink fingernails dug into his flesh. The contrast from her light, coffee-tinted skin to his freckled, white skin drew his attention more than the pain caused by the crescent grooves she’d left behind.
Despite the anger he experienced because of her tone of voice and the tinges from the minor injury, his skin tingled with excitement. He had been unattached for nearly a year and swore to stay firmly and solidly single. Miss Melody Haney with her sexy angel-like voice and razor-blade tongue shook his platform.
If you think of all of the great classics (I’ll provide a couple of examples, but there are so many to choose from), books like Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice or Kathleen Woodiwiss’s The Flame and the Flower, or a movie. Casablanca with Bogart and Bergman springs to mind, with the actors exhibiting their off-screen-sizzle on the screen. The heroes and heroines in the books and movies have intense flirting, the push and the pull of sexual tension which allows the reader/watcher to be drawn into the scene.
In addition to the timeless plots the romance the couples share are the hook.
The flame dances away from the fire, until ignited or fed, the blaze rises another time until finally submitting to the inevitable― ashes to ashes.
Dazzle, be bold, don’t be overly forward but appealing and of course, spontaneous.
Back off. Once you blind him/her with your spectacular personality, retreat. Let your flame get a chance to assess you without threat.
Ignite that blaze again, but not as strong as the first inoculation of heat. By this time your flame will be responding with equal intensity and if not, let the fire die.
jj Keller, writing fantasies with spice and humor.
“You know when you’re walking, the light catches your body, and two shadows appear. One is very clear and directly beside you, the other is a few inches away and dim.” Henri sat on the sofa and clasped his hands between his knees.
“Yes, but I’m not following you.”
“Evil and goodness are like that. With some people goodness is very lucid. Evil is diffused, but still present. Or some, like the ones we eliminate malevolence is halcyon and the individuals act on it. Goodness and love are farther and farther from the person. This is our job. We find the people who are enraged with anger and wickedness and send them on their way to heaven or hell.”
“Have you ever been tempted by the devil?” Mark asked and leaned forward.
Henri jumped off the sofa, walked to the fireplace and leaned against the mantel. “Recently.”
“I wanted to do anything and everything to destroy the man who took my wife. As you know, Tori and I have special abilities.”
Henri pivoted, leaned against the fireplace and waited to hear what Mark had to say. He would need to be processed by the fraternal order before he was inducted into the Angel of Death squad. But if Henri picked up on a quirk or abnormality time would be saved and Mark would be out of the running.
“I considered the dark side. It would be easy to trade my soul in order to have revenge. What would the costs have been? I would have gained satisfaction to have his life end, but my wife wouldn’t have been returned.” His glance met Henri’s. The man had been sneaking into Henri’s mind.
“Normally you won’t be able to read another of our kind’s thoughts. My mind is open, because I want something very much. A life beyond me.” Henri lowered his head, crossed his arms and legs. “I may have contemplated accepting the devil’s offer to give me what I desire, but the price is too high.”
“Tori will never see you again?” Mark’s voice held scorn and dismay.
“She will lose all memories of this time in her life. You will not exist to her.” The ache in his heart hadn’t subsided since he left her at the garden. The muscle might as well have been ripped out of his chest, because it did him no good. And Henri had shown no mercy for his roll call, he was sure all of them went straight to hell.
“As you said, this is the con to the position. Is there a possibility of negotiation?” Mark rose from the sofa and shuffled to the fridge. “Beer?”
Henri shook his head. “Negotiation isn’t possible. If you’ve changed your mind you need to tell me now.”
“No. I want. I need to help in whatever way possible to end evil on earth.” Mark shut the door and paced between the sofa and the fireplace.
“You should say goodbye two whomever you want. I’ll escort you to the weigh station.” Henri rubbed his chest, digging his fingers into the cloth. His mind had lost all sense of reality; he didn’t have a heart, so why did it ache?
“I curious, what is the reason you joined the corps?” Mark sat on the sofa.
Henri shoved away from his sentinel position and sat in the Queen Anne chair across from his recruit. “I was a knight for Caroline of Grandenburg-Ansbach, the Queen of England. Not in her immediate guard I was one of the first-line of defense. A skirmish occurred and mortally wounded I had been given the choice by my predecessor, enter the Angel of Death regimen or die.”
He winked. “Here I am, years later.”
“You’ve been doing this service for over three hundred years? Mark’s eyes widened, in apparent disbelief.
“Yes. Go say your goodbyes. We need to leave.” Henri crossed his arms across his chest. The pain was unbearable. Since the transformation, he’d been in a state of euphoria. Even when attacked by a reluctant parting guest, he had not felt such wretchedness. The burning sensation resembled the torment when the marauder’s blade slipped beneath his breastbone.
***
Tori didn’t get out of bed for a solid twenty-four hours, except one stumbling into the restroom. Henri hadn’t come after her. Confident he would, she counted the minutes. She refreshed her face and perfume in preparation for make-up sex. He didn’t come. At sundown she wandered around her garden, snapping off deadheads and snipping flowers for a bouquet. A rosebud had been broken off and lay in the middle of the path, exactly where Henri had stood earlier in the day.
Tori believed in signs and the broken young rose indicated their novice relationship had ended. The death was sharp and quick for him, but not with Tori. Her love for him would take a long time, a slow and painful demise. If ever!
Now, Mark stood in front of her, laminating about his future and the good deeds he do to help all people in the world, not just their tiny corner. She tried to listen, to focus on his words, but the sad decaying rose glared at her from under the apothecary jar.
Tears slow and steady leaked from her eyes.
“Tori, don’t cry. You know I can’t deal with a sobbing woman.” He grabbed her in a bear hug. “You’ll be alright. Tomorrow you’ll forget I was a pest and threw your favorite intaglio out the window when you were ten.”
She broke away from his comfort and went to the teak Indian puzzle box. A quick press of the smooth wood and the hidden compartment popped out. The scent of sweet exotic wood with a hint of fire filtered into the air. She withdrew the ring. The shape of a star and a moon had been stencil on a platinum silver band. The star, representing woman and the moon representing man is an African love symbol. Her mother had given it to her. At ten she fell in love with, Peter Bradley and used the ring as a seal for all of the love notes she sent to him. She made the mistake of using Mark’s chemistry homework to practice.
She tried to fit it onto her ring finger, but it was too small. The symbol for love fit perfectly on her pinkie finger. “I’ll never take it off. It’ll remind me of your fierce temper and of Henri.”
“You haven’t mentioned Henri, will you miss him terribly?”
“No! He’s just a man.” She turned away and wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. He was just a man, but she knew it wasn’t true. She’d fallen in love with him. Henri Chambers could only be her true love. Forever and she’d seal a hundred envelopes declaring it was so.
“In time you’ll forget him,” Mark said on a sigh.
“Stop reading my mind.” A honk sounded outside her glass doors. He had called a cab, when she had told him she’d take him to the airport. “You need to go, if you’re going to catch your transportation.”
“This is goodbye then.” He crushed her in a hug.
“For now, you’ll be back in what, six months?” She smashed her face into his chest.
“Keep in mind, mother will always watch over you.” He pushed her arms.
She held a death grip on him, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt, he’d never return.
Emily Dickinson must have felt this way, peering out the window, observing nature and animals romping around, seemingly safe, in their habitat. The pain ripping through my insides subsided for a moment, as I viewed the group of ladies as they strolled past. I glanced at the clock, nine, right on time. Angels Walking…kind, generous, considerate women walking and talking each day as a group.
I love to exercise. A daily workout is part of my DNA, probably due to being raised on a working farm (tasks from morning to night). In college, I took many physical education classes and joined in social groups to keep active, so sitting in a comfy chair watching the beautiful ladies walking tears me up.
As a competitive runner I ranked in the top finalist; however, never won a single event. During COVID Isolation I fell, and lost the incentive to exercise. In addition, many responsibilities weighed heavy on me “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.” I gained weight, as many people did during the tragic time.
Post annual medical review I began walking with a YouTube exceptional woman, Leslie Sansone ~Walk at Home~. Walking twice a day wasn’t enough. Several surgeries and cancer treatments later the malignancies continue to grow and destroy my normal life.
The ladies rounded the corner and were returning. All of their names begin with S, which isn’t important to this blog, but interesting none-the-less. The sunlight bounced rays from their hair and reflected from the hardware on their hats. One of the ladies caught my attention and waved. They want me to walk with them, and God willing I’ll be able to join them but for now a simple wave through the glass will suffice.
Will I have the opportunity to once again resume my normal lifestyle or am I destined to end life like Emily Dickinson?
You’ll experience a woman’s adventures, in the west, as she searches for her outlaw brother.
Emma Cody’s strength and determination to help her family creates exciting exploits, bringing this historical western into your modern world.
To celebrate A Promise at Midnight’s debut, I’m giving away two digital copies…one to US readers and one to international fans.
How to enter? Simply press the share button of this post.
The contest will run through July. I look forward to providing this remarkable story with you.
Emma Cody bucks traditional etiquette and travels alone to Colorado to help her pregnant sister-in-law. The stagecoach is attacked by bandits, one of whom she recognizes. She takes on the financial responsibility of her family. Doing whatever’s necessary to provide food and shelter, she uses her skills to enter a sharpshooting contest. The ruggedly handsome Henry Courtland rides into her world and orchestrates an unforgettable weekend filled with laughter and fiery passion. Will the romance stay strong or will Emma’s secret create an insurmountable precipice?
Henry “King” Courtland, conservative wealthy businessman, wants to hold onto his money despite an outlaw gang robbing his payroll. When the proper Miss, sitting across from him in the stagecoach, asks to use his gun to fight bandits he’s captivated. His attraction for the refined, privileged Emma Cody is an anomaly, and he wants to invest.
Unexpected feelings lead the two passionate people to rope in a relationship. However, greed, jealousy, and love clash when Emma is held captive by the outlaws.
A Promise at Midnight is due to be released world wide in eight days. Please let me introduce a few of the characters.
What would you do if you were using public transportation and bandits try to rob you?
Emma Cody, an Indiana native traveling to Colorado, encounters an attempted stagecoach robbery. To her surprise, she recognizes the voice of one of the outlaws. When she arrives at her brother’s home, her catatonic sister-in-law is sitting by a casket. Discovering her family’s financial downfall spurs Emma to enter a sharpshooting event. Disguised as a male she fools almost everyone; however, she wins the tournament and the money to help her loved ones. Her uncle, Buffalo Bill Cody, leads the posse searching for the attackers. She becomes the target of the stagecoach outlaws. At a mining camp, her latest risky venture stalls when she is taken hostage.
Henry Courtland, owner of King’s Court and co-owner of Courtland-Carter LandDevelopment and Courtland-Carter Mining Ltd, prefers to travel alone. A lame horse causes him to join others in a Wells-Fargo Coach. Lady Emma Cody catches his eye and his admiration when she asks for a pistol to stave off bandits trying to stop the coach. She becomes the illusive gold mine pocket, drawing him toward the idyllic gleam. The woman isn’t afraid of adventure and the need to protect her strengthens as they draw closer. His sedate life becomes riddled with risky ventures and high stakes.
Good guy Henry hires Danny, a child trying to help his ailing mother. He considers a “King” a father figure. As a ten-year-old, he carries a heavy weight on his shoulders.
When his mother dies, the landlord threatens Danny…he’ll be put on the Orphan Train.
What is the future for his adorable lad?
Sam, a quiet gentleman friend of Emma’s brother, unassailable loyalty creates an aura of mystery becomes a suspect for murder? If he didn’t kill Emma’s brother, is he responsible for concealing the murder? Sam, an intellectual and dwarf, has many layers. Emma accepts the task of unraveling Sam’s tiers to determine if his core is rotten or pure.
This fast-paced story has multifaceted and relatable characters Follow Emma on her adventures, experience her trials and rewards. Enjoy how she views the historical American West.
Emma Cody bucks traditional etiquette and travels alone to Colorado to help her pregnant sister-in-law. The stagecoach is attacked by bandits, one of whom she recognizes. She takes on the financial responsibility of her family. Doing whatever’s necessary to provide food and shelter, she uses her skills to enter a sharpshooting contest. The ruggedly handsome Henry Courtland rides into her world and orchestrates an unforgettable weekend filled with laughter and fiery passion. Will the romance stay strong or will Emma’s secret create an insurmountable precipice?
Henry “King” Courtland, conservative wealthy businessman, wants to hold onto his money despite an outlaw gang robbing his payroll. When the proper Miss, sitting across from him in the stagecoach, asks to use his gun to fight bandits he’s captivated. His attraction for the refined, privileged Emma Cody is an anomaly, and he wants to invest.
Unexpected feelings lead the two passionate people to rope in a relationship. However, greed, jealousy, and love clash when Emma is held captive by the outlaws.
Product Nbr: 17506 Title: A Promise at Midnight Theme(s): Family Life/Oriented, Small Town, Mystery, Action-Adventure, Opposites Attract SubGenre(s): Suspense, Western, Historical BISAC: FIC027100 FICTION / Romance / Western
Situational awareness is a part of our own lives, especially in today’s frighteningly violent world. Being aware of our surroundings is imperative for us and also a method for a writer to enhance their scenes. The primary character (POV character) must familiarize herself/himself with their environment and be ready to act. Knowledge, experience and education enables the character to be observant, vigilant. With this information he/she will determine their plight or circumstances.
Have your character:
Trust in his or her gut instinct!
Never have his or her back to the door, entrance. In a Promise at Midnight, Henry…
“Shoulders aching from pulling on the reins, King guided the horses to a stop at the mouth of a small canyon. He’d evaded the bandits, seemingly as if they didn’t want to catch the stagecoach. What about the cashbox which was bolted to the floor? Bandits were known to burn the carriage and take the cashbox. Could it be possible they went to retrieve their wounded or dead?
Regardless, the canyon would provide them coverage from three sides if they were attacked. He unfettered the horses and removed a shovel from the boot.”
Have him or her be cognizant of the location of other players in the scene.
Use all of the senses: taste, sight, smell, touch, hearing, perception (gut instinct).
Sometimes fighting isn’t the best weapon-RUN.
A Promise at Midnight, Emma was captured by the criminals.
“You run, I kill,” he whispered with foul onion scented breath. An evil gleam replaced the vacant look. Two personalities, one large body.”
Later, with no other choice:
“Excess energy gave her the strength to run like a gazelle. The sprinted jump start would be her only advantage. An outraged Peach yelled, his tones bouncing around the rock faces. Head down, legs pumping, she carried on until she hit a wall of human flesh.”
Situational awareness is critical for successful decision making. The character must maintain control, focus, and attention to his or her surroundings. Typically, situational awareness evolves around making safe choices, but it can be a strong scene enhancer, pulling the elements of the scene together.
Elevate your writing, consider situational awareness…enable your POV character with an essential foundation for effective judgement calls.
Emma Cody bucks traditional etiquette and travels alone to Colorado to help her pregnant sister-in-law. The stagecoach is attacked by bandits, one of whom she recognizes. She takes on the financial responsibility of her family. Doing whatever’s necessary to provide food and shelter, she uses her skills to enter a sharpshooting contest. The ruggedly handsome Henry Courtland rides into her world and orchestrates an unforgettable weekend filled with laughter and fiery passion. Will the romance stay strong or will Emma’s secret create an insurmountable precipice?
Henry “King” Courtland, conservative wealthy businessman, wants to hold onto his money despite an outlaw gang robbing his payroll. When the proper Miss, sitting across from him in the stagecoach, asks to use his gun to fight bandits he’s captivated. His attraction for the refined, privileged Emma Cody is an anomaly, and he wants to invest.
Unexpected feelings lead the two passionate people to rope in a relationship. However, greed, jealousy, and love clash when Emma is held captive by the outlaws.
Theme(s): Family Life/Oriented, Small Town, Mystery, Action-Adventure, Opposites Attract SubGenre(s): Suspense, Western, Historical BISAC: FIC027100 FICTION / Romance / Western
jj Keller 