​I’ve never been a fan of marshmallows. I can manage to eat one campfire s’mores and that’s for the chocolate. In some parts of the USA, sweet potato casserole with the mini-marshmallows is almost as important a part of the Thanksgiving feast as the turkey. But the idea of adding marshmallows to a vegetable dish doesn’t tempt my taste buds.

Several years ago I came upon a different breed of sweet potato casserole, one without marshmallows, or orange and cinnamon, another popular variant. Never one to leave a recipe alone, I tweaked it a few times, added this and subtracted that as the mood struck, and arrived at what I’m sharing with you today. Now a much-requested vegetable dish at holiday gatherings, the recipe has been passed along to friends and family all over the world.
​
P.S. Any leftovers are delicious reheated though the crumble topping gets a little soft.

Sybil is happily on the shelf, tending to her sheep. But she fears she’ll depart this life without experiencing physical love, which she suspects is rather enjoyable. When her long-lost fiancé returns from sea, she decides he’s the lucky man who’ll receive her virginity.
 
Max is eager to return to his sugar plantation and has no intention of remaining long in London. However, he didn’t bargain on a wilful, pretty, exasperating spinster determined to take him to her bed.
 
He insists on marriage but she wants only his body. Her heart is not part of the deal. Unfortunately, love doesn’t always follow the rules.

Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. As soon as she discovered her grandmother's stash of romance novels, all plots had to lead to a happily-ever-after.
 
Luanna writes full time, concentrating on sexy romantic suspense, steamy paranormal romance, and spicy historical romance.
 
Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Luanna has recently returned to the land of her birth with her dear husband and two spoiled cats. When she's not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious.
 
Under her previous pen name of Grace Hood she has two novellas published with The Wild Rose Press. 

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Growing up the only kid in my class who had divorced parents was hard. To be totally honest, it sucked wind in more ways that I can ever express adequately. Kids are cruel, there’s no denying that, but adults are equally, if not more so, at times.

​Because I was considered different since my last name wasn’t the same as my remarried mother’s, I tended to be that loner kid who sat in the back of the class, kept her head down, did really well with schoolwork and loved to read. I was so thankful at the time that I could go to the school library, or my public one, anytime I
wanted and no one would bother or harass me if I just wanted to wile away my hours reading.

And wile away I did.

You know how every now and then there are published studies that say you sleep
this much in your lifetime, or you spend this many hours per day driving to work?
Well, if they ever do a study about how many hours the average person reads in
their lifetime, I will be sosososososo above the norm it will be hysterically funny.

As a kid I was thankful for the escape from a lousy life that books gave me. As an
adult, even though my life is no longer challenging, I’m still thankful for the ability to
dive freely into a good book. And I’m thankful that I live in a country where I can
read across the spectrum of any book I want. There are countries and societies
where certain types of books are routinely banned and burned. Individual ideas are
discouraged and certain words are rejected as being seditious and subversive.
​
I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to live in a place where I couldn’t
read what I wanted to read.

So when I’m asked what I’m truly thankful for, it’s that I – by the grace of God or
good fortune – live in a country where I am free to read what I want to read. To have
the freedom to choose the words and ideas I want to explore. To have the liberty to
walk into any bookstore or library and request the book I want to have.

And with that freedom to read anything I want, I am also thankful I have the right
and desire to write anything I want without the fear of censure, imprisonment, or
shunning.

This Thanksgiving, after the turkey has been carved and eaten, the football games
are all being watched, and the kids are writing their letters to Santa, I will be curled
up in corner, a fleece throw blanket covering my legs, happily reading a book from
my #TBRlist.

And I just may stay in that chair for the entire weekend, just reading.

Contemporary ~ Romantic Comedy
​
Colleen O'Dowd manages a thriving bridal business with her sisters in Heaven, New Hampshire. After fleeing Manhattan and her cheating ex-fiancé, Colleen still believes in happily ever afters. But with a demanding business to run, her sisters to look after, and their 93-year-old grandmother to keep out of trouble, she's worried she'll never find Mr. Right.

Playboy Slade Harrington doesn't believe in marriage. His father's six weddings have taught him life is better as an unencumbered single guy. But Slade loves his little sister. He'll do anything for her, including footing the bill for her dream wedding. He doesn't plan on losing his heart to a smart-mouthed, gorgeous wedding planner, though.

When her ex-fiancé comes back into the picture, Colleen must choose between Mr. Right and Mr. Right Now.

As I sit down with a cup of tea, fall is blowing into Maryland, stripping red, yellow, and orange leaves off the trees. My husband has gone out to photograph eagles with a friend, and we will be having a lovely dinner out with another couple at one of our favorite restaurants. I am so very grateful for all in my life today—even the trials and tribulations that forced me to leave my comfort zones and grow. We cannot know what life will bring us. We can only know our path upon looking back. And along that path, are many helpers to whom I give thanks. The following is a list of people who have enabled me to become an award-winning author and who never doubted my efforts—although I often did.

First and foremost, I’m grateful for my family and the support they provide for me in my professional and writing endeavors. When I was given the opportunity to direct the graduate program of my dreams, my husband and son cheered me on, knowing that I love teaching and mentoring young professionals. They also realized I would need to carve time out of my family life to continue my fiction writing. To this end, my husband, son, daughter-in-law, and even my grandson, have supported me with enthusiasm and without reservation.  

Second, I continue to be enormously obliged to my subject matter and sensitivity experts, and alpha, beta and gamma readers who have forced me to rethink characters and motivation, as well as smacked me with reality checks on factual and physical matters in my works. They reminded me at every turn that representation matters and that it is important to know about real people when I write my characters. Without careful readers, I know my writing would be less polished.

Third, I’m deeply indebted to the amazing insights of my editor and friend, Amanda Barnett of the Wild Rose Press. She is my midwife, coaching me through the delivery of my book babies. She tells me when my words sound weird (“Noised? What is this noised?”), when my titles stink (“No, not dark enough. This is a dark book.”), and writes the BEST taglines!  

Fourth, I am beholden to the larger community of writers and bloggers who support me with social media, blog visits, and shout outs on every forum known to man. I can’t keep up with all the platforms and am learning new ones each day. Thanks for having my back!

Finally, my books and stories would be meaningless without my readers. Every time a reader tells me that a book has moved her or him, I am humbled and honored. My deepest thanks to those who not only read, but also take the time to give me feedback in comments and reviews. Writers live for those moments.

I wish you comfort food, loving families, and warm friendships. May your plates be full, your cups overflow, and your hearts be bursting with love and joy!

 ~ Sharon

Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, and obtained a PhD in Public Health. She is the author of the Hotel LaBelle Series, the Jinni Hunter Series, and the Obsession Series. When not attempting to make students and colleagues laugh or writing, she can be found fishing, walking her dogs, herding cats, or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends in Baltimore, MD and Punta Gorda, FL. 

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It's been 100 years since the end of World War I, or, as it was known at the time, the 'war to end all wars'. Though the ripples of that war are still felt today, most of us don't remember that war either through our own experience or through stories our family members told us. All I have as a direct tie to WWI is a picture of my Great Grandfather looking dapper in his Canadian uniform.

Since then, there have been other wars of course - World War II being the most obvious. Korean War, Vietnam, the Gulf War, the war in Iraq and Afghanistan, plus a myriad of other engagements depending on which country you call home. Our personal connections to those wars are more salient, more alive because not as much time has passed. Everyone of us knows someone or is only two degrees separated from a military person who gave their life in service for their country.  

Everyone of us knows someone or is only a few degrees separated from civilians who lost their lives. 

No matter how I personally feel about war (and my views have shifted back and forth through the years), I've always been humbled by the people who choose to serve their country and to liberate others from tyranny. They put their own lives on hold, knowing they may not return to the safety of their family and loved ones. And for that I am grateful.

One little way I can show my appreciation is by highlighting authors who have served or authors who have a loved one who's paid the ultimate sacrifice and not returned home. I only know three and their names are below.  PLEASE ADD NAMES in the comments and I'll update this blog post with their info! 

And a special shout-out to my cousins, John and Angela, who both served in Afghanistan. Love you both!

~ Carissa, LovRRs 

In a time when international traditions are taken on by other countries, Thanksgiving is still a holiday that is not celebrated (or only little) here in Australia. Of course, one could argue when the USA is celebrating their Thanksgiving, harvest season has only just begun at this end of the world, but it’s not even something that comes up in diaries early in the new year. I remember hearing about Thanksgiving in Germany –
Erntedankfest. It was more a church thing, though.

I will not pretend to know all the details about this wonderful holiday, but the idea of
giving thanks, to God, for the harvest, and all that is good in life, appeals to me.

There’s a lot I would or could be thankful for. I have a beautiful family, my husband
and two daughters here in Australia, and my parents and sisters in Germany. I’m
grateful for my job, which I love, as well as the opportunity to write books.

But most of all, I’m grateful for my life.

Almost two years ago to the day I was diagnosed with cancer. However, I can now happily say this is all in the past. Life’s good, I’m healthy and looking forward to growing really old.

Has the challenge changed me?

I always enjoyed life. I always tried to only do things in life that I loved. Now, I still do
it, but I add a little bit of nonchalance to it when it comes to problems I cannot
change – the “Don’t worry, be happy” theory. We love to travel as a family and we do
it well. The fun we usually have is and will always be a wonderful memory. I love to
step away from the norm and be “silly”. I try not to postpone things I want to do and
see, because … who knows what’s around the corner.

Life’s good.

Anyway, initially I didn’t want to have anything to do with “cancer” so when I
remembered that I had a book with my publisher in which a mother died, I asked for
the reversal of rights. The wonderful owner of the publishing company did so even
without knowing the exact reasons. But I’ve healed “mentally” as well since and even
though I re-worked a lot of the book, I left the cancer part in. It fits the story. It’s part
of life. It’s now part of me.

But before I finish today’s blog post, may I also say how grateful I am to
LoveRomanceReads, especially Carissa for having me here, but also you for taking
some time out of your day to read this post. I’m not only humbled by it, but I also
appreciate it as well. Thanks ♥

​Becoming a parent can be daunting at the best of times, but for Flynn McCormack, a business lawyer in Melbourne, it pulls the feet right out from underneath him. He’s become a father to six-year-old Nadine literally overnight. He didn’t know about her existence, and the news throws him into chaos, even more so when he is asked to take over custody.

With the help of Emma, an employee at the hotel where Nadine and her grandparents are staying, Flynn tries to do the right thing. Yet, the right thing in his eyes differs from his parents’ ideas, and Emma is voicing her opinion, too, leaving Nadine right in the middle of it all, still grieving the loss of her mother. There’s no doubt she’s afraid about where and with whom she will settle.

Will a letter Flynn receives help him decide what to do?

​Excerpt
​
Emma woke to the ringing of the phone, and after a bit of fumbling around, she managed to answer it. “Hello?”

She had to blink her eyes several times before she was able to read the clock across her room.

1:36 a.m.

“Emma? It’s Flynn McCormack here.”

Emma rubbed her eyes and instinctively pulled the duvet closer to her chin.“Yes?”

The stillness was deafening. There was no reply, but she could hear his gentle breathing and knew he hadn’t hung up.

“Are you still there? You just woke me in the middle of the night and I’m—”

“I need help.”

Emma yawned. “At one-thirty in the middle of the night?”

“She won’t stop crying.”

Leaning on one elbow, Emma asked quietly, “What happened?”

“Nothing.”

Growing impatient, she moved the hair out of her face. “Okay. How about you give me some details?”

Another deep breath. “Can you come over?”

“What?” She almost screamed. “What?” she asked more quietly.

“I need help. Nadine’s sobbing in the room, missing her mum.”

“What happened? What did you say?”

“Hey, what makes you think I said something? We had dinner, she had a shower, and I tucked her into bed.”

She rubbed her eyes to wipe away the last remnants of her sleep. “And then?”

“Nothing. I turned the lights off and left.”

“Okay. Could she be scared?”

His grumble told her he was not only getting impatient, but also overwhelmed with the situation. “How on earth would I know? She’s not talking. Just sobbing for her mum.”

“Have you tried giving her a hug?”

He hesitated. “Nope. Tried dolls, tried calm music, hot milk, movie—”

“Try a hug!” She leaned her head into her hand.

“Okay, will do, but I’m not good at… you know, hugs.”

“Well, you must’ve done it at least once, otherwise…” Emma rolled her eyes at her own immature reply. “Never mind. Sorry!”

She heard some soothing words to Nadine on the other side of the line. “Put her on the phone. I’ll talk to her. And Flynn?”

“Yes?”

“With all due respect, try and put yourself in her shoes. Within three months she’s lost her mother and has been carted off to a man she doesn’t know, who doesn’t know how to hug. How would you feel? Of course she’s upset!”

Dial tone!

She threw herself back onto the bed. “To hell with you, then.”

Emma turned and checked the time on the clock again. Moving her hands through her hair, she stood in one quick movement and walked to the bathroom. She hadn’t bothered switching on the light, and let out a shriek when she bumped into Jack.

He turned the light on and rubbed his face. “For fuck’s sake, Em. It’s almost two o’clock in the morning. Keep the voice down.”

“Jack? You’ve given me a fright.”

Eyes wide, he glared at her. “Who on earth did you expect at this time of the night?”

Iris Blobel was born and raised in Germany and only immigrated to Australia in the late 1990s. Having had the travel bug most of her life, Iris spent quite some time living in Scotland, London, as well as Canada where she met her husband. Her love for putting her stories onto paper only emerged a few years back, but now her laptop is a constant companion. 
Iris resides west of Melbourne with her husband and her beautiful two daughters as well as their dog. Next to her job at a private school, she also presents a German Program at the local Community Radio.

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I’ve always loved Halloween. Not for the candy and the costumes, although those are fun, too. But mainly because it’s the time of year when we celebrate witches, ghosts, and anything related to the Otherworld.

Now, to be clear, I’m not a ghost (yet…), nor have I ever seriously considered myself a witch, although I am the 9th great-granddaughter of one of the original Salem “witches,” who was hanged in 1692, and later (much, much later) cleared of all charges. But I’ve always been fascinated by mystical, unexplainable things, and magic. Early favorite books include The Active Enzyme, Lemon Freshened Junior High School Witch by E.W. Hildick, and The Witch of Blackbird Pond, by Elizabeth George Speare. And on the lighter/television side, I watched Bewitched reruns, somewhat obsessively.

So, though I’ve never particularly enjoyed horror movies, I’ve come to realize I have a decided dark side. I actually begged my parents to read J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit to me when I was four, and as soon as we were done, The Lord of the Rings. Talk about dark! But they also blend early Celtic legends in with the magic — another thing I’ve always been fascinated with. My Comparative Literature B.A. thesis was on Morgan le Fey, King Arthur’s half-sister, who in very early Celtic versions of the legend was a powerful sorceress, and far more respected than later Christian adaptations like to admit.

I also love Halloween, because to me, it’s the true start of Autumn (Samhain, anyone?). October in the Northwest can be pretty warm and dry — nice for walking and enjoying the gorgeous changing colors of the leaves, but I like it when the seasons actually change. The winds and the rains return, and it’s dark outside, so I can curl up with a good book, or veg on the couch (watching Supernatural, of course!).

It’s also (duh) the eve of All Hallows (All Saints’ Day), and the eve-eve of All Souls’ Day. So it has both early and later religious significance, along with the witches, ghosts, candy, and costumes. Plus, who doesn’t love It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown??

As me old dad used to say: “Happy Hollow-weenie!”
​
Cheers,
Kerry

How about you? What makes this time of year special? Leave me a comment, then enter to win your choice of a $5 Starbucks card or a free ebook of my debut novel, DEBRIEFING THE DEAD. (Giveaway closes at midnight on 11/3/18; Love Romance Reads not responsible for any of it; see giveaway page for full terms and conditions.)

​HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
 
Well, it might be a day early, but the next few days are full of fools, and ghouls, and maybe a guy with tools. This is a time of celebration and some folks take it to a whole new level.
 
The end of October and the beginning of November is a special time for many people. For those who celebrated Samhain (pronounced “Saw-when”) it’s a time of acknowledging the end of the growing season and the thinness of the veil between the living world and the spirit world. It’s when the members of the Wild Hunt ride and often catch people unawares unless they have wards or leave offerings.
 
The tradition has changed over the years, mellowing to be more of a children’s holiday where they wear costumes and visit neighbors asking for candy and goodies. My own tradition is even the adults wear costumes and hand out light bracelets to the kids, to light the way to the next house.
 
November 1st follows with All Saints Day, the festival of honoring all the saints, both known and unknown. I suspect it was a way to tone down the Pagan celebrations for Samhain and remind the followers of the Christian faith that things were meant to be taken seriously in a controlled manner. But it is a good day to celebrate your own patron saint and to give thanks for them watching over your well-being.
 
November 2nd is Dia de Los Muertos, celebrated in Hispanic cultures as the Day of the Dead. This is a remembrance day to honor loved ones who’ve departed the land of the living. I got the chance to celebrate Dia de Los Muertos while taking a Spanish class in High School. It was so cool to see all the marigolds and goodies put out for the souls to partake. I even got to decorate real sugar skulls and make the tissue paper cutouts to wave in the wind. I found that celebration to be the most joyous despite the sadness of loss.
 
Traditionally, this is the time of year Hollywood puts out those horror films of werewolves, vampires, demons and whatnot. As a paranormal romance author, I just happen to have a few tales of such beings to entice and thrill at this time of year.

When I first moved to the Bay Area in California, I lived near a town named Colma.

Population – 1,800.

Graves – 1.5 million.

As my eloquent friend said when he visited me, “Your new neighborhood must be haunted as Hades.” A two-thumbs-up location for a person that loves real-life surrealism. It’s known as the “City of the Dead” and “City of the Silent.” For some reason, the second AKA feels creepier. Like it can hear inside you. The town’s slogan is “It’s good to be alive in Colma.” A place with generations of corpses, hospitality to San Francisco’s cumbersome, space-hogging deceased, and a sense of humor – they got it going on.

When my writing group decided on paranormal romance as the theme for our latest anthology, I knew right away I was going to get my inspiration from my birth country. Here in the US, only the immigrants are familiar with the Filipino folklore. Their descendants get to learn about them when and if they visit the Philippines. To the best of my knowledge, no one has written about Filipino mythical beings yet in paranormal romance, so I decided to be the first.
 
The next question was the choice of which creature to be the central character of my story. I considered the following options:

• The aswang - a demon that could be a vampire, a shifter, or a combination of both. Usually male, it is a flesh-eating, blood-sucking ghoul that appears like a normal person during the day but transforms into a monster at night to prey on humans.
• The manananggal - usually depicted as female, this is another man-eating, blood-sucking, vampire-like creature that can separate its upper torso from its body, sprout bat-like wings, and fly to its victim’s location. Many stories recount them taking an unborn baby from its mother’s womb with the use of its thin, long, snake-like tongue.
• The tikbalang - the demon horse, it has a horse’s head on top of human’s body and horse’s feet. They’re said to rape women in order to birth more tikbalang.

As I only had 6,000 words and since during brainstorming, I couldn’t conceptualize a plot that made the above monsters sexy, I decided to search some more.
 
I considered the multo or ghost, but we already had a couple of stories with them as the subject; the sirena or mermaid, but I couldn’t think of an original take that doesn’t resemble the Disney version. I also thought of the mangkukulam - the generic term for a witch or a wizard, but again, they’re not unique to the Philippines.
 
What is unique and what kept calling me is the diwata, a minor deity in Filipino folklore: female, beautiful, the closest Western counterpart is a forest nymph. Once the choice was made, everything fell into place.
 
Diwata, my story in MOONLIGHT, MONSTERS & MAGIC, a Paranormal Romance Sexy Shorts Collection, is inspired by the Filipino myth about Maria Makiling. It has many versions, but the main tale has always been thus:

In the mountain called Makiling, town of Los Baños, province of Laguna, resides a forest nymph who falls in love with a mortal. The love is sometimes reciprocated, other times not. Circumstances always prevent them from being together. Brokenhearted and bitter, Maria retreats to her mountain, never to be seen again.

In my version, she lives.

As beautiful as ever.

As vindictive as people never thought she could be.

My mom put the “fan” in “fanatic” when it comes to sports. Like my abuela, my mami’s a devout baseball fan. But unlike my abuela, my mami cheers for almost every sport imaginable.
 
This love for sports is something Mami passed down to me, and we indulge our affinity for athletics with season tickets to our favorite college team’s football, baseball, and gymnastics seasons.
 
That’s why, on most Saturdays in the fall, if you’re looking for us, you’ll have to venture amongst the mass of Gator tailgaters mobbing the University of Florida campus. Like all the other Gator fans, you’ll find Mami and me decked out in orange and blue, from our toe nails to the ball cap on our heads or the sunglasses perched on our noses, soaking up the pre-game revelry. And yes, there’s a TON of revelry when you’re talking Southeastern Conference (SEC) football.
 
Picture: Popup canopy tents dotting the green grass and dark grey parking lots. Tables overflowing with tasty chicken wings, chips & dip, sandwiches, and desserts. Adult beverages flowing from pitchers and filling ice chests. Picnic games like catch and cornhole in action. Vans, buses, and RVs painted orange and blue or plastered with vinyl clings of our team’s alligator logo, University of Florida flags flying from the windows. Big screen televisions and satellite dishes streaming early games and drawing crowds around them. Fans old and young proudly dressed in Gator attire--football jerseys, sundresses, T-shirts. It’s a veritable sea of orange and blue goodness, and the excitement of the game ahead remains palpable in the air.
 
Of course, my papi’s there for the fun. He’s definitely not one to miss a party. But as game time nears, he helps with the clean-up, then hops on his moped and heads home.  He’s more a fan of air conditioning, so he’ll watch from the comfort of his recliner at home. But for Mami and me…it’s the heat and humidity and the crowd. It’s cheering and singing along with the Gator fight song as the Pride of the Sunshine band marches onto the field and our players run out of the tunnel while the cheerleaders tumble across the grassy field ahead of them.
 
Rain or shine, Mami and I are there. Together. It’s a ritual for us. It’s priceless moments cheering, or cursing if the situation demands it (well, I’m the one cursing, mami’s the one telling me to watch my language). And even when I’m hot and sweaty, and I know papi’s home comfy on his recliner in the AC, I wouldn’t trade this special time with my mami for anything. It’s our “thing.” And this time, these moments with her, they’re precious to me.
 
So, if you happen to be watching ESPN or the SEC Network and you get a glimpse of the crowd at Florida Field this fall, you’ll know that Mami and I are more than likely there, cheering and singing and enjoying our mother-daughter bonding over our love for the Gators! And if I see the camera, I’ll wave to you! ;-)
 
Tailgating pics: 1) Oldest & middle daughters, Mami, and me tailgating; 2) Papi & a fellow Gator fan; 3) Youngest & me enjoying Florida Field, aka “The Swamp”

October 30, 2018
Novella in Anthology
Holiday ~ Multicultural ~ Contemporary
​
HOLIDAY HOMERUN * Priscilla Oliveras 
Event planner Julia Louisa Fernandez dreams of a life in Chicago. But her family in Puerto Rico expects her to take over the catering business. Former pro baseball player Ben Thomas knows what that’s like—and when they meet, he might be the one to inspire a winning strategy, just in time for the holidays . . ​