Saturday, November 15, 2014

A Review of The Pizza Bible by Tony Gemignani

Pizza...it's like a religion in my house.

My husband is Italian American...and it's all about pizza for him...pasta too but mostly pizza. We call him the pizza connoisseur, the God of Pizza. So when I spotted this book...The Pizza Bible (of all things), I knew it was a must have.

Oh the pizzas in this book...my stomach starts growling with anticipation just flipping through the pages to try and decide which recipe to tackle.

Deep dish, thin crust, cracker thin-thin crust, assorted flavors, toppings, gourmet wonders, traditional and wild...it's all there to be explored, to be tried...and most of all... to be tasted.

Look at this Table of Contents- which would you choose first?

Respect the Craft    
The Master Class   
Gearing Up  
Master Class Shopping List  
Part One: Theory  
Ingredients  
Part Two: Practice  
Day One   
Day Two 
Day Three  
Regional American   
Master Dough with Starter 
Tiga and Poolish Starters   
Master Dough Without Starter 
New Yorker  
New York–New Jersey Tomato Sauce
Sweet Fennel Sausage    
Calabrese Honey Sausage   
Casing Sausage 
New Haven with Clams  
New Jersey Tomato Pie 
Detroit Red Top  
St. Louis   
Chicago  
Chicago Deep-Dish Dough 
Chicago Stuffed Dough  
Deep-Dish Tomato Sauce  
Chicago Deep-Dish with Calabrese and 
Fennel Sausages   
Chicago Deep Dish with Spinach and Ricotta  
Fully Stuffed   
Cast-Iron Skillet   
Cracker-Thin Dough  
Cracker-Thin with Fennel Sausage  
Cracker-Thin Tomato Sauce  
Frank Nitti   
Italian Stallion
Italian Beef   
Italian Beef Sandwich  
Chicago-Inspired Cocktails  
Sicilian   
Sicilian Dough with Starter
Sicilian Dough Without Starter   
Parbaking Sicilian Dough 
The Brooklyn   
Sicilian Tomato Sauce  
Pepperoni and Sausage  
Burratina di Margherita    
Purple Potato and Pancetta  
La Regina  
Grandma
Early Girl Tomato Sauce  
Quattro Forni  
California Style   
Cal-Italia   
Multigrain Dough   
Honey Pie 
Eddie Muenster
Guanciale and Quail Egg  
Campari
Organic Three Cheese  
Eggplant and Olive  
Fig, Almond, and Monterey Jack 
Organic Dough    
Khorasan Dough  
Einkorn Dough   
Sprouted Wheat Dough   
Napoletana   
Napoletana Dough   
Napoletana Tomato Sauce  
Handmade Mozzarella   
Wood-Fired Pizza Basics   
Wood-Fired Oven Baking   
Home-Oven Broiler Method   
Margherita   
Margherita Extra   
Marinara   
Mastunicola   
Regional Italian 
Lucca   
Rimini   
Calabrese “Diavola”  
Quattro Anchovy   
Sardinia  
Pizza Romana  
Romana Dough 
Global   
Barcelona 
München   
Dubliner    
Parisian   
Greco  
Grilled   
Dough for Grilling 
Grilled Pizza Master Recipe  
Steak Lover’s   
Insalata   
St-Germain BBQ Chicken   
Wrapped and Rolled   
Calzone with Meatballs or Spinach  
Mortadella and Cheese Calzonewich  
The Bow Tie  
Pepperoli Sausage Rol  
Two Cool Things to Do with Leftover Dough  
Meatballs  
Focaccia and Bread   
Focaccia   
Focaccina   
Ciabatta   
After-School Ciabatta Pizza   
Baker’s Percentages Chart   
Measurement Conversion Charts

Napoletana for us (of course, it's close to our family name and the region my husband's family comes from) unfortunately we can't do the traditional style because we don't have a wood stove but we can do the altered version.

Then we will try Sicilian.

And then I dont know, there's so much....I see a future of fun pizza experimentation in my household.




The Pizza Bible

The World's Favorite Pizza Styles, from Neapolitan, Deep-Dish, Wood-Fired, Sicilian, Calzones and Focaccia to New York, New Haven, Detroit, and more

Written by Tony Gemignani

About the Book:

A comprehensive guide to making pizza, covering nine different regional styles--including standards like Neapolitan, Roman, and Chicago, as well as renowned pizza sub-specialties like St. Louis and Californian--from chef, 11-time world Pizza Champion Tony Gemignani.

Everyone loves pizza! From fluffy Sicilian pan pizza to classic Neapolitan margherita with authentic charred edges, and from Chicago deep-dish to cracker-thin, the pizza spectrum is wide and wonderful, with something to suit every mood and occasion. And with so many fabulous types of pie, why commit to just one style? The Pizza Bible is a complete master class in making delicious, perfect, pizzeria-style pizza at home, with more than seventy-five recipes covering every style you know and love, as well as those you’ve yet to fall in love with. Pizzaiolo and eleven-time world pizza champion Tony Gemignani shares all his insider secrets for making amazing pizza inhome kitchens. With The Pizza Bible, you’ll learn the ins and outs of starters, making dough, assembly, toppings, and baking, how to rig your home oven to make pizza like the pros, and all the tips and tricks that elevate home pizza-making into a craft.


Available at Amazon and Other Retailers

RESPECT THE CRAFT

Pizza is simple. It’s dough, tomato, cheese, and toppings. But as someone who has devoted more than half of my life to it, I can tell you that, like all really great, really simple things, pizza is infinite. I’m still learning, still refining, still trying to make it even better every single day. And what I can tell you for sure is that pizza doesn’t come down to just recipes or formulas. It’s a craft. 

That one word—that’s why I wanted to write this book. There are hundreds of pizza books, blogs, and websites filled with thousands of recipes out there. Do we really need another one? I thought about this a lot, and here’s where I ended up: when I teach home cooks and certify chefs and pizzaiolos, it’s less about recipes and more about inspiring people to master the craft of pizza—the techniques, the reasons to choose one ingredient over another, the art of “reading” the dough as you mix, shape, top, and bake it. 

Anyone can hand you a pizza recipe, and if that recipe is halfway decent, chances are you can make yourself a perfectly good pizza for dinner tonight in your own kitchen with no special equipment and not much preparation. But that’s not where I want to take you. 

I want to get you all the way to five-star, killer-pizzeria-quality pizza. I want you to master any style you love—whether it’s Chicago deep-dish or cracker-thin, a big, fluffy Sicilian pan pizza or a classic Neapolitan margherita with that authentic char blistering the edges—right in your own kitchen with whatever oven you’ve got. 

Is that really possible? Can you actually do all that without a real pizza oven? That’s the question I get asked most often. Believe it or not, you can. It’s not your oven. It’s the ingredients and the techniques you use, and I’m going to give you every piece of ingredient and technique advice you’ll need to succeed. 

But if you truly want to get all the way to rocking restaurant-style pizza at home, there’s one thing I’m going to ask you to commit to. It’s the motto that runs across the front of my menu, and the three words etched on the door of my restaurants. Hey, I even had it tattooed right onto my hands. Respect the craft.

Craft is the difference between good and great. It takes a few extra steps, the right equipment, a little more time, and a fair amount of practice. But if you’re up for it, the payoff is golden. 

So I’m going to start by asking you to try something a little unusual for a cookbook. I want you to read all the way through page 19 before you try a single recipe. And then I’m inviting you to take a Master Class where we make your first pizza together—and maybe even take that class a few more times before you graduate to trying all the great stuff in the rest of the book and eventually coming up with your own variations and improvisations. 

That’s what I mean by respecting the craft and getting a handle on the whys and hows behind it. It might sound a little back-to-schooly. But trust me, it’ll be fun. And you get to eat the final exam.

Want more information and inspiration? Check out my blog at ThePizzaBible.com
   

About the Author:

TONY GEMIGNANI is the chef and owner of seven restaurants: Tony's Pizza Napoletana, Capo's, and Tony's Coal-Fired Pizza in San Francisco, Pizza Rock in Sacramento and Las Vegas, Tony's of North Beach and Slice House by Tony Gemignani in Rohnert Park. He's also the co-owner of the International School of Pizza in San Francisco. Gemignani has been making pizza for over 20 years and holds an impressive set of awards.

Friday, November 14, 2014

Spotlight and Giveaway: Sinner Repent by Morgan Kelley





Sinner Repent
Carter Chronicles Trilogy
Book One
Morgan Kelley

Genre: Erotic suspense/thriller

Date of Publication: March 11, 2014

ASIN: B00IYH7Z7C

Number of pages: 452

Cover Artist: Laura Gordon Design

Book Description:

Doctor Callista Carter only wants to heal. Running from a near life destroying case, she’s licking her wounds in a small town and off everyone’s radar.

Only, she’s drawn quite a bit of attention.

Someone’s taking lives, disguised behind the Seven Deadly Sins. It’s stirring up the small town, making waves.

The killers want her eliminated.

And the sheriff just wants her.

When Quinton Gaines is handed a slew of killings, he’s at a loss. He, too, has escaped to sleepy Myrtle Springs to regroup. Now, he’s reminded that death has no qualms with nipping at his heels. Yet, this may be the perfect opportunity to snag the elusive doctor, who has stolen his heart.

Or so he hopes…

When the killer gets personal, Quinn wishes he didn't drag Callie into the mess. Now, not only is she in danger for helping him, she’s marked to die.

Time’s running out.

Can love beat back the vicious claws of hate?

One truth is crystal clear. Quinton Gaines has to stop running in order to save his home and woman.

It’s not going to be easy with a madman hell bent on getting one thing…

REVENGE.

The killers won’t stop at anything. It’s time to get ready, and like any good Sinner... Repent.



 Sinner Repent ~ Book One~ Callie's story
Available at Amazon

Sinner Realized ~ Book Two ~ Luke's Story
Now Available

Sinner Reborn ~ Book Three~ Nate's Story.
Out Summer 2015

Excerpt

© Copyright 2014 by Morgan Kelley LLC All rights reserved. First Edition * No parts of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or in an information storage or retrieval system without written consent from the author.

All characters and locations are fictional and any similarity to real life or individuals is coincidental.


                ~ Prologue ~
                 Saturday Late Evening

As Sissy Parker slowly began to wake, she had no idea where she was, or how she ended up there. Trying to move her arms, Sissy could tell they were restrained above her head and immediately began to panic.
Struggling to get her bearings, she blinked rapidly, trying to take everything in. All around her there were candles and sinister shadows. Deep down, she had this building feeling of horror, as she could sense that there were malevolent eyes watching her from the creepy darkness.
She knew that something bad was coming.
As the fear rushed through her, Sissy’s body shook in terror at all the possible scenarios that were forming in her head. Having a wild imagination wasn’t her friend at that moment.
It was her worst nightmare.
Getting her bearings, she knew what to do.
Sissy screamed.
What caught her completely off guard was when no one tried to stop her frantic wails for help. Instead, she was met with laughter. 
Sick.
Horrible.
Terrifying laughter.
Finally, after a brief amount of time had passed, the first shadow stepped forward. Sissy stared at the figure, trying to adjust to the dim light in the room.
“Who are you?” she asked, her voice shaking.
Certainly, this had to be some kind of bad dream. Any second now, she would wake up.
There was no answer to her question, and that scared her just as much as what she suspected to be the truth. In fact, the silence was chilling.
“Please…what do you want from me? Why am I here?” she begged softly, as the words came out more like a whimper.
The figure moved forward, running a hand slowly down her naked body.
Sissy tried to pull away from the whisper light caress. At that point, she would have dislocated her own limbs to move out of her abductor’s reach.
“Stop! You’re scaring me. This isn’t funny. What am I doing here?”
Laughter came from another direction in the darkness, and Sissy whipped her head toward the sound.
Oh God! There was more than one!
At that moment, Sissy knew that she was in some serious shit. Even she wouldn’t be able to talk her way out of it with her pretty smile and nice clothes.
“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?” she screamed, as two other figures moved into the dim light beside the first one.
They were all clothed in hooded black robes tied with red silk belts. The first figure, the one who had touched her, must have been the leader as that robe didn’t match the others. 
“We are The Brethren of the Blood.”
That didn’t sound good at all. In fact, that sounded bad.
REAL BAD.
“What do you want with me?” she asked, scared out of her mind. The last thing that she remembered was a sharp pain in the back of her head, and then…
She woke.
Naked.
Bound.
And in big trouble.
“We’re here to cleanse the sins which are suffocating our town.”
Sissy glared at the figures who were moving into a circle around the table that she was resting on. The tears came as she pleaded for her life.
“I’ll do anything if you let me go. Please! This has to be some kind of mistake. You have the wrong person!”
“No, Sissy, we have the right one. You’re a vile example of humanity, and we’re here to fix what’s broken.”
Suddenly, the words registered. “What do you mean cleanse? How are you going to do that?”
“We’ll make you our offering, purifying the town of the first sin.” They began moving around her, touching her naked flesh with their chilly hands.
“Please,” she begged.
At the contact, the bound woman began getting more agitated. Her face was etched with desperation.
And yet, they paid her no mind.
Sissy began to struggle, pulling at the bonds holding her to the table. She knew she needed to fight.
“There’s no use in struggling. We’ll do what needs to be done, and then make our offering.”
Reality hit as Sissy finally understood what they were going to do to her. In the back of her mind, the logical part of her brain was warning her of what was to come. The confusion was finally overcome, and now it demanded she flee.
“What…are…you…” She didn't get to finish.
The maniacal laughter was enough to tell the tale.
Sissy was going to be murdered.
“No, please! I’ll do whatever you want! Please don’t kill me!”  The begging had escalated and was now more desperation than anything else.
More laughter emanated from the circle, as they moved closer to the woman. Her struggles only incited them, making the inevitable more enticing to them.
The first figure began opening the red robe as Sissy stared in horror, shocked to see who lay beneath the hood.
It couldn’t be!
There was no conceivable way that what she was seeing was true.
“Oh, God, no,” she whispered at the thought of what was about to happen.
“It’s too late to call his name now.”
The other two joined in with laughter.
Looking up into the face, it was completely void of any emotion. It was as if there was no concept that what was coming was wrong.
One by one, they each undid their robes.
Horrifyingly, they were all familiar. Sissy knew each of them personally.
Trying to get their sympathy, she gazed into each set of eyes and pleaded her case. “No! Why me?” she asked. “I never did anything to hurt you!”
Her words fell on deaf ears as they moved toward her naked body.
Sissy started to scream, praying that someone would hear and rescue her. Before long, Sissy could feel something being stuffed into her mouth. It was then taped shut with a large piece of duct tape.
Her body reacted. Immediately, she began gagging as the tears stung her eyes.
“Hood her,” said the first figure, picking up a shiny silver blade. The intent was to let Sissy Parker see it as her final memory in this world. From the look on her face, as the hood was drawn over her features, it did what it was intended to do.
There was nothing but fear present as the end came closer.
Sinners needed to pay.
Sissy tried to cry out in pain, as the razor sharp knife began tearing through her body. From the motions, she could feel something being carved into her flesh.
The blackness surrounded her, as what little she could see swam in swirls. It was coming to swallow her.
Her only thought was how grateful she was that once in the abyss, she wouldn’t feel any more agony.
As the three cloaked figures stood around Sissy’s body, they began the long awaited ritual. It was now underway.
The Brethren had deemed her life forfeited.
She was unclean.
Sissy was the first one chosen.
There were words spoken over her as blood rushed, gushed, and spilled on the ground.
As it coated her body, the room was heavily tinged with the scent of copper pennies. The only thing lingering there, which was more powerful, was the silence.
In absence of all talking, one message was clear.
It was just the beginning, and they enjoyed every second of what they had just done.
This was power.
This was strength.
This was… perfect.


When the ritual had ended, they moved Sissy’s barely live body to the field out past Walker’s Point. They found the perfect spot and laid her in the grass.
Who knew how long it would take the law to find her body? Yet, if it was meant to be, it would happen.
The leader of the group pulled the black hood from Sissy’s head and stared down at the wide-eyed look on her face. It was quite obvious that she had greatly suffered.
Now, it was time to end it. With one slice to her neck, the blood trickled out and sickly coated the message.
With a gasp, she struggled for her last breath, as her life ebbed away.
This woman fought for life, every step of the way.
For that, they were grateful.
Stepping back, the three stared down at their masterpiece and admired their handiwork.
Sissy Parker may have been the first one to die, but practice didn't have to make perfect.
They had done it to the letter of their law.
At first there was worry about making a mistake, but that had long since passed. Their only hope was, as the next ones came to them, that they too, would each be just as special.
No one said anything as they turned to leave.
Each of the three were living in the moment, in their own way, and committing this night to memory.
Everything had changed, and now there was no turning back to what used to be.
As they left the beautiful woman alone in the wet grass, the next mission would be to head home and climb into their warm beds. There was nothing but pure unadulterated satisfaction filling them. Hopefully, they would each be able to sleep, despite the adrenaline still surging over a job well done.
This sacrifice was going down in the books.
With one glance back, the moon eerily shone down on the destroyed life of Sissy Parker. Even from where they stood, the final ominous word was visible.
Each saw ‘PRIDE’, carved grotesquely into her chest, and they were jubilant.
Now, everyone would see her for her true sin.
There would be no doubt as to what had caused her death.

This was on her, and it was only beginning.



About the Author:  

Morgan Kelley lives in the beautiful Pocono Mountains with her husband and two children. After attending college at Penn State University and studying Criminal Justice, Morgan knew her only true passion in life would be murder and books. 

She put them both together and began her career as a writer.  Other than books and writing, you can find Morgan hanging out in her garden and digging in the dirt. 

Her other works include: The Junction, Serial Sins, The Blood Betrayal, The Killing Times (1), Sacred Burial Grounds (2), True Love Lost (3), Deep Dark Mire (4), Fire Burns Hot (5), Darkness of Truth (6), Devil Hath Come (7), Consumed by Wrath (8), Redemption is Here (9), Dead Shall Speak (10), Blood Red Rage (1) Lost & Broken (2), Unthinkable Games (3), Celestia is Falling (1), Vegas is Dying (2), Christmas is Killing (3), Love is Bleeding (4), Heaven is Weeping (5), Dangerous Revelations (1), Illegal Fantasies (Anthology 1), Romance Under Arrest (Anthology 2), and Holiday Reinforcements (Anthology 3)

Please feel free to visit Morgan at her website: www.morgankelley.com
or visit her blog at www.morgankelley.blogspot.com






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Thursday, November 13, 2014

Spotlight and Giveaway: Circle Eight: Tobias by Emma Lang





Circle Eight: Tobias
Circle Eight
Volume 6
Emma Lang

Genre: Historical Western

Date of Publication: September 30, 2014

ISBN: 9780988566675
ASIN: B00NHXMZKA

Number of pages: 215
Word Count: 65,000

Cover Artist: Kim Killion

Book Description:

A broken man. A woman who needs a hero. A love that should never have been.
Rebecca Graham always knew she was to marry a hero and leave home in blissful happiness. She chose that man when she was seventeen. Unfortunately, her family hated him. In a fury over being swindled by someone else, Tobias burned down the Circle Eight, her family's ranch. He spent four months rebuilding alongside her family in penance. When he accepts her help to nurse his grandfather, she has hopes he will become the hero she envisioned. She was wrong.

Tobias Gibson never expected happiness for himself. His brothers, adopted by their patriarch Pops, were all that matters. After Pops dies while under Rebecca Graham's care, he cannot forgive her failure to save his grandfather. He ignores his attraction to Rebecca. There is too much bad blood between them.

Life never rolls forward as expected however. Five years after he'd last seen her, Rebecca Graham reenters his life. Together they face the storm that sweeps across their lives. They have to rely on each other and ignore the growing love setting their souls and hearts on fire.

Ebook formats available at
Kindle    Nook   Kobo    ARe    Smashwords

Print formats available at

April 1849

The fist that crashed into Rebecca Graham’s jaw was small but hard and full of fury. Her neck snapped back and stars danced in front of her eyes but she held on to her temper and the arm in her hands.
“Sarah, you have to let me do this. I know it hurts but I need to set your arm.” Rebecca tried again and a second punch slammed into her cheek.
“Jehosophat, girl, don’t go punching Miss Rebecca. She’s trying to help you.” The old woman stood behind them, wringing her hands and pacing. Her granddaughter Sarah had broken her arm falling out of a tree. As the nearest person who could reset a bone, Rebecca had been summoned.
Then subsequently punched for her efforts. Sometimes her need to be a healer and an herbalist seemed like a mistake. A big joke by God to punish her for being the ugliest Graham sister, the unmarried spinster, the one holding out for a non-existent prince.
“If you don’t sit still, I won’t be able to set the bone and your arm will be crooked for the rest of your life.” Rebecca had two younger siblings and a passel of nieces and nephews. She knew how to handle unruly children. “Is that what you what?”
Sarah, a redhead with a riot of freckles on her nose, pooched out her lower lip and shook her head. The rough and tumble girl reminded Rebecca of her younger sister, Catherine, full of piss and vinegar and ready to take on the world one fist at a time.
“Then let me do this. You can tell all the boys how you bit through a piece of leather rather than cry.” Rebecca reached into her tapestry bag and pulled out an old leather strop that had belonged to her oldest brother, Matt. It had grown too thin for a razor, but folded in half, it would work for an eight-year-old to bite down on. Rebecca ignored the throbbing in her cheek and put the leather in the girl’s mouth.
Sarah scowled, her red brows furrowed, but she bit down on the leather. As Rebecca took hold of the girl’s arm again, she paled, making the freckles pop out like cinnamon spots.
“Close your eyes and imagine you’re in your favorite place.” Rebecca nodded to Mrs. McGinty, who stood behind her granddaughter this time, ready to intercede in case a little fist flew again.
Rebecca stared at the misshapen arm, seeing beneath the skin and muscle to the fracture. She had set bones before, with success, but every time was new and different. Challenging and intimidating. She took a deep breath and allowed a calm to settle over her. It happened each time she had to use her healing skills and she welcomed it, like an old and trusted friend.
She positioned her hands on the girl’s arm and pulled, moving the bones into place as though completing a puzzle. Within a minute, she was done. Sarah had pressed her face into her grandmother’s belly and quietly wept.
“Good girl.” Rebecca smiled and resisted the urge to wipe the sweat off her own brow. “Now let’s put a splint on your arm and then I’ll give you something for the pain.”
“Thanks, Doc.” Mrs. McGinty had tears in her eyes. “She’s all I have left of my son.”
Rebecca understood all about family and holding onto them with all your might. Her family was all she had as well, and although there was a lot more than one, she treasured every member. Eight siblings, all on their own path in life but tied together by their family ranch, the Circle Eight.
“I’m glad I could help.” Rebecca set to work and did what needed to be done. An hour later, she packed up her supplies, noting she would need to replenish her herbs soon. There had been too many people to heal as of late and not enough time to gather the much needed supplies.
“I can’t pay you much.” Mrs. McGinty held out a few coins.
Rebecca took the money with something that tasted like guilt. She knew they didn’t have much but if she didn’t accept payment, people would expect her to work for free and that would devalue her hard work. She tucked the coins into her reticule and nodded to the older woman.
“She should keep the splint dry and on her arm for at least four weeks. I will come by next week to check on her. Please send word if you need me before then.” 
Rebecca left the McGinty’s farm with her steps dragging. The sun had started to set and with it the cool spring night. Winter had held on with a ferocity not seen for decades. Spring had finally arrived mere weeks ago. No wonder Sarah had been climbing a tree. She likely hadn’t wanted to spend another moment indoors. If Rebecca had been a young girl, she’d have been running wild with her brothers and sisters on a beautiful day like this too.
Rebecca’s horse was where she left him. Well, almost. The gelding had stretched his reins all the way over to a patch of sweet grass by the nearby garden. He was happily munching away. She shook her head at his antics. Matt had given her the horse when he was barely a colt, one of the first Matt had bred from their own stock. She’d been thirteen and so excited to have a grown-up horse.
She’d named him Ocho for the Circle Eight, her family’s ranch. Ocho had proved to have a unique personality amongst the horses. The saddle horse had incredible stamina and an easy gait that made him perfect for long rides. He also had a tendency to nip at her behind when she failed to rub him down fast enough.
“Ocho, we are headed home, boy.” After untying his reins, she secured the tapestry bag to the saddle horn and swung up into the saddle. Her split skirt allowed her to ride astride, unlike Catherine, who wore britches and rode as though she had fire on her ass at all times.
By the time she reached the Circle Eight, Rebecca’s exhaustion had sharpened to the point she was afraid she was going to fall asleep sitting up. She managed to put Ocho in his stall, rub him down and make sure there was feed and water. She couldn’t manage another thing.
Matt would lecture her if he saw her in her current exhausted state. Particularly given she likely had a black eye, which was no doubt swollen too. She avoided the house in favor of the well pump in the back yard. She set her bag down and knelt in the grass. Fortunately, her brother Benjy had oiled the pump a few weeks earlier and it moved easily in the darkness. Cool water spilled into her waiting palms.
She splashed her face until she felt more awake. The requests for her services had become much more frequent as her reputation had grown. There were few physicians within a hundred-mile radius and even fewer who were readily available. Folks had started calling her Doc, which was foolish since women couldn’t be doctors, but no matter how much she corrected them, the nickname persisted. Doctor Radicy was her mentor, the man she had looked to as a savior of the local folk. He’d taught her a great deal, but she had taught herself even more.
The number of patients had tripled in the last month alone. It seemed as though every day someone came by the ranch looking for Doc. Rebecca didn’t know if she would continue to practice healing or if she would go back to being an herbalist. Truthfully she enjoyed both but that left no time for herself. Certainly no man had wanted to be with her, which suited her just fine. Being the plain sister had its advantages.
She allowed herself, in the cover of darkness, to remember what it felt like to have her first kiss. The sweet surrender to the man she had already decided was to be her husband. Too bad he had seen her as a child, someone to pat on the head and send home. It hadn’t felt that way when he’d kissed her though, nor after when they rode home in the darkness. The night had hidden what they’d done. Her entire world had shifted, leaving her changed forever.
It had been five years, yet she could still taste him, feel the roughness of his whiskers, the warm gust of his breath. Rebecca had imagined being in his arms forever. Instead, she was left with an empty heart and unfulfilled dreams.
She patted her face dry with a cloth from her bag and headed for the house. Supper would be welcome, but the explanation for the black eye wouldn’t. Matt would yell at her, or at least admonish her for letting patients get the better of her. No matter. She loved what she did and nothing would change her mind on what she wanted to do with her life.
Rebecca was a healer in her heart and soul.


Tobias Gibson stared at the knotty roof inside the cabin. The scent of whiskey pushed through his pores; his body reeked of it. Hell, he was completely sour and stale in more ways than one. Everything he tried to do fell to shit so he stopped trying. Life had become a monotonous routine, which he dulled with liquor. It was an existence, but not a life.
Tobias was alone. Very, very alone. He spent his days prospecting in the dirt and shit, his nights at the bottom of a bottle. Pitiful and stupid. That should be his new name. He tried to make a living many ways but nothing felt right. All that was left were the few acres surrounding the cabin. A tiny piece of nothing.
The sun peeked through the grimy windows, reminding him it was daytime. He needed to get up and do something besides fart, sleep and feel sorry for himself. He rolled over and looked over at the corner. Inevitably his mind drifted back to that night five years earlier. To her. She had stood there, wide-eyed and appealing, tempting him to forget all his responsibilities.
As much as he wanted to forget Rebecca Graham, she crept into his thoughts often. Too often for his liking. She was likely married with a passel of young’uns by now. He had to stop remembering how she tasted, how she smelled, how she trembled in his arms. It was torture, self-flagellation he put himself through on a nightly basis. The liquor helped but not enough.
Tobias knew he was meant to be alone. He was too ornery for any woman to love him and too much of a son of a bitch, literally, to have a friend. Even his adopted brothers had given up on him. Foolish people thought they could change him. He was still the same person who had burned down the Circle Eight ranch to retrieve his grandfather’s deed and money. He was still the same person who caused the inadvertent death of the Graham’s grandmother in that same fire.
There wasn’t much he had touched that didn’t become ash in his hands. They were black with it. Tobias knew from a young age he was poison on two legs. His mother had known it, beat it into him. Took others a bit longer to figure it out. Now everyone had, leaving him truly alone. He lived his days wandering between the minutes, wondering if the world would ever give him anything but darkness.
“Fuck.” He threw himself out of bed and staggered sideways, landing hard on the old chair beside the bed. It cracked beneath his weight and splintered. His ass slammed onto the floor, jarring his spine hard enough to make his teeth slam together.
He stared at the jagged pieces and his throat closed. Pops had made the chair long ago when Tobias had come to live with his grandfather. It was how they had formed a bond, building a few pieces of furniture, but this chair had been the first. To a lonely, wild child, it was something solid, something stable. Now Tobias had broken another memory of the man who had shaped his life.
He didn’t know how long he sat there feeling sorry for himself, but it was long enough for the sun to rise high in the sky. He finally got to his feet, slowly this time, and went outside to piss.
The ground tilted this way and that, but he held onto the side of the house, splinters digging into his fingers that he’d have to be sober enough to pull out later. It was April, or at least he thought it was. The days blurred together, although winter had been long enough to make it hard to get to town for more whiskey.
Tobias pissed behind a tree since the outhouse was literally full of shit and needed to be closed over and new hole dug. Another task he hadn’t gotten around to doing. So he pissed on a tree and shit in the bushes. No one was around to care.
He knew he was a pitiful mess. A ridiculous, pitiful mess.
He made his way back to the house and his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten in quite some time. After some scrounging he found a bit of jerky and a biscuit that might have been made a decade earlier. It was food and his body needed it. He resisted the urge to chase the food down with his favorite drink. Instead he went back outside to the well and used every ounce of energy he had to pump the handle until he got some cool water. It tasted good, surprising him. He splashed some on his face and hair, waking himself up a bit more.
Tobias wandered over to the gravestone that sat beneath the big tree outside the house. Pops had loved to watch the sunset from that spot. Now he could see it every day from his final resting place.
“Ah, Pops, I miss you.” Tobias sat down with a thump and rested his arms on his knees. “I’ve failed at just about everything.”
The wind rustled the branches above him, the leaf buds emerging after the cold winter. Somewhere in the distance, birds chirruped at each other and a hawk squawked in the morning air. It was peaceful outside, but he would never discover the same within his soul. It was as black as the ashes that coated his heart.
“I wish you were still here. Selfish, I know, but if’n you were here I wouldn’t be alone.”
Not entirely true, of course. Tobias had run everyone else off in one way or another. He was alone because of his own stubborn foolishness. He’d gotten fired from his last job a month ago. No, it had been three months. Three months.
Where had three months gone?
Into a bottle, he thought sourly. With very little money left, he had to do something besides drink himself into the ground beneath Pops. Not that anyone would notice if it happened. Hell, he could lay there stiff as a dead opossum for months until someone found him. Likely never even get buried. Such was the life of a man who didn’t give a shit.
“What can I do?” He shook his head. “I’m lost, Pops. I can’t find my path.”
Tobias looked south as though he could see the start of his fall from humanity. It had been five years ago when they had fallen for that con man, Vaughn Montgomery, or O’Connor, as they knew him. Losing the deed and money had been the first step to hell. Now Tobias was trapped there with no way back up.
He needed a miracle.


About the Author:

Beth Williamson, who also writes as Emma Lang, is an award-winning, bestselling author of both historical and contemporary romances. Her books range from sensual to scorching hot. She is a Career Achievement Award Nominee in Erotic Romance by Romantic Times Magazine, in both 2009 and 2010, and a semi-finalist in the 2014 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Contest.

Beth has always been a dreamer, never able to escape her imagination. It led her to the craft of writing romance novels. She’s passionate about purple, books, and her family. She has a weakness for shoes and purses, as well as bookstores. Her path in life has taken several right turns, but she’s been with the man of her dreams for more than 20 years.

Beth works full-time and writes romance novels evening, weekends, early mornings and whenever there is a break in the madness. She is compassionate, funny, a bit reserved at times, tenacious and a little quirky. Her cowboys and western romances speak of a bygone era, bringing her readers to an age where men were honest, hard and packing heat. For a change of pace, she also dives into some smokin’ hot contemporaries, bringing you heat, romance and snappy dialogue.

Life might be chaotic, as life usually is, but Beth always keeps a smile on her face, a song in her heart, and a cowboy on her mind. ;)





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