Bon Appetit and a Book with Marin Thomas

Purchase on Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Purchase on Amazon and Barnes and Noble

Carmael Apple PiePhoto Credit: James Roperhttp://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Caramel-Apple-Pie 

Carmael Apple Pie
Photo Credit: James Roper
http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Caramel-Apple-Pie

 

Ingredients

Flour, for dusting
1 recipe Buttery Pie Dough
8 tbsp. unsalted butter
1⁄2 cup packed light brown sugar
1⁄2 cup granulated sugar, plus 1 tbsp. for sprinkling
3 tbsp. cornstarch
1 tbsp. ground cinnamon
15 soft caramel cubes
8 tart apples, such as Granny Smith, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced
1 egg, lightly beaten with 1 tbsp. water

Instructions
On a lightly floured surface, roll 1 disk of dough into a 12" round. Fit into a 9" pie plate. Trim edges, leaving 1" dough overhanging edge of plate; chill 30 minutes.

Melt butter in a 1-qt. saucepan over medium heat. Stir in brown sugar, 1⁄2 cup granulated sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, and caramels; cook, stirring occasionally, until sugars are dissolved and sauce is slightly thick, 5–7 minutes.

Heat oven to 400°. Arrange apples over dough. Pour sauce evenly over apples. Roll remaining disk of dough into a 12" round and place over top of pie. Pinch top and bottom edges together and fold under; crimp edges. Brush with egg mixture; sprinkle with 1 tbsp. sugar. Cut three 1"-long slits in top of pie. Bake until crust is golden brown and filling is bubbling, about 1 hour. Let cool completely before serving.

Spotlight: Storm Surge by Celia Ashley

Named after a goddess who turns her lovers to stone, an insular New England coastal town holds more secrets than it can keep…

Torn from her hometown and her father as a child, Paige Waters’ last memory of both is fraught with mystery and confusion. Now, sixteen years later, with both her parents gone, Paige returns to Alcina Cove, certain there is more to the painful story than she’s been led to believe. The answers must lie within the community, buffered from the larger world by the sea; but when she finds the townspeople more reticent than ever, her only hope is the intriguing man who lives in her childhood home–if she can break down his reserve…

A fisherman turned writer, Liam Gray is haunted by secrets of his own, some of which are deeply entangled with the closure Paige seeks. But as he and Paige grow intimate, their attraction building, Liam finds himself torn between truth and betrayal. Whichever he chooses will risk his future with Paige and cause someone pain–until an even greater danger leaves him no choice…

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Meet the Author

As an author of contemporary paranormal romance, I am a sucker for a tortured soul. If all of my characters were as happy as clams, we’d find them pretty boring, wouldn’t we? The big payoff for all that angst, however, is finding true love. Whether writing about ghosts, heroines with psychic powers, stalkers or a community of others, every tale is filled with suspense and danger, all wrapped up in a spicy romance.

Many readers ask me how I started writing and I can only say it began with a love of reading. I wrote my first book at age seven–a thirty page story about a girl and her horse, complete with illustrations, entitled Windy Day.  I can’t remember now if Windy Day was the name of the horse or the prevalent weather condition but, suffice it to say, my yearning to be a writer began at that time. I spent the rest of my childhood (and continue to this day) reading a book the first time for pleasure and each time thereafter with an eye to nuance of phrasing, description, pacing, flow: everything that originally drew me in and enamored me. I am, in that sense, self-taught at my craft, although I love the inspiration that new learning brings me and welcome knowledge from every source.

Most of all, I welcome feedback from my readers. You are, after all, the truest inspiration! So, keep those comments coming.

Connect: Website | Twitter | Goodreads

Excerpt: The Fairest Poison by Lauren Skidmore

Release Date: May 10th 2016

Summary from Goodreads

Princess Bianca returns to her court to find it poisoned from the inside out. Faced with mysterious sicknesses, power disputes, and whispers of impending death, Bianca turns to an unlikely ally—a former assassin—to find the antidote that will save her kingdom. But Bianca quickly realizes that she might not even be able to save her own life in this Snow White story.

Excerpt

Chapter One 

My parents were sick.

That was the first news I received when I returned to the palace after nearly six months away. I was Venesia’s princess, and so its ambassador. I was happy to serve . . . but not if it meant coming home to this.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, shedding my cloak and shaking it out before handing it to a servant. It was still damp with seawater from the journey. It hadn’t exactly been a peaceful trip.

“Are they up to visitors now?”

The two handmaidens that had greeted me exchanged glances. “You should rest from your journey first, princess. It’s late, and the details can wait until the morning.”

I frowned. “No. You cannot welcome me back by saying my return may aid my parents’ recovery and then refuse to tell me what’s wrong.”

“We don’t want to worry you, princess,” the other one said, throwing a nervous glance at her companion. She’d been with the palace longer and knew I would not be easily dissuaded from getting what I wanted.

“It’s too late for that.” I sighed. “Where is my brother?”

“Prince Aiden went to speak to the Guard about the successful capture of that Chameleon. He was eager to see the killer in person.”

I braced myself. Aiden was in for a surprise on that front. “Maybe I will go rest after all,” I said, brushing a dark curl behind my ear and adjusting the purple mask I wore across the upper half of my face. I would miss the freedom of not wearing my full Venesian mask while I was away from court. “But don’t think it’s because you dissuaded me from seeing the king and queen tonight. Surely, if they were seriously ill, they’d have ordered you to take me to them right away. I won’t disturb their sleep.”

“Of course, princess.” They both curtseyed.

“Bianca!”

I cringed. Aiden.

“You’re dismissed,” I said quickly to my handmaidens. I didn’t need spectators for this.

They scurried away—though I’m sure to only just around the corner so they could eavesdrop—and I turned to face my elder brother. He came barreling down the dimly lit corridor, his half-cloak billowing out behind him. He wore the emerald green mask he favored when he was out of the palace so no one would bother him as the prince. The pure white masks of the royal family tend to stand out in a sea of blues and green.

“Where is he?” he demanded. The head guard and a young woman in a green mask were just a few steps behind him. Looks like we were going to have an audience after all.

I was tempted to play dumb but knew that would only make him even more upset. And he had good reason to be upset; I couldn’t deny him that.

“Please hear me out,” I began slowly, my voice even and calm.

“You set him free, didn’t you?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Bianca, he killed Evie’s father.” He gestured to the woman behind him, who shifted her weight from foot to foot uncomfortably, a medium-sized brown dog with a fluffy, curled tail at her heels. “He tried to kill me.”

“I know that, but—”

“There is no excuse here! He killed and was willing to kill again. He stole masks and identities. He betrayed the trust of a kingdom who took him in. He is a criminal who needs to pay for his crimes.”

“He saved my life. I owe him,” I explained simply.

That made Aiden pause, but only for the length of a breath before retorting, “One good act does not make up for all the evil he’s done.”

“But it proves there is good in him.”

“Or he is just trying to save his own skin by having you in his debt.”

“He’s not as terrible as you think he is.”

“But you admit he is terrible.”

“Aiden.” I started to truly feel the late hour now and my shoulders drooped. “He deserves a fair trial at the very least.”

“I can’t give him a trial if he is mysteriously set free in the middle of the night.”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I think I’m being understandably upset. I went from news of my baby sister returning home with the scum I’ve been hunting for the past three months—to finding out that the scum has vanished and has said sister to thank for it! With everything that’s been going on in court, and now with Mother and Father ill—”

“Do you know what’s wrong with them?” I interrupted, both wanting to know and hoping to change the subject. I’d bristled slightly at being called his “baby sister”—there were only two years between us, after all—but was willing to overlook it in the name of the greater good of the moment. His accusations weren’t untrue; he just didn’t know the Chameleon like I did.

I might have been part of the reason he’d been captured, but we had a history. And that history meant that I owed him his freedom.

It seemed Aiden was as tired of arguing as I was. He answered, “The doctors aren’t

sure. It’s not an illness they’re familiar with. Mother and Father are on bed rest now until a cure can be found. They can barely eat and are very weak, and they both have a pink rash all over their bodies. It happened so suddenly, but no one else in court has the same symptoms, so we don’t know where it came from.”

“How long have they been like this? Why did no one tell me?”

“They only just felt sick enough to admit it and seek a doctor, though Father mentioned to me he’d been feeling poorly for several days.”

I sighed. It was just like them to overlook any health problems until they got too serious to ignore. They didn’t want to appear weak in front of the kingdom, and to appear human was to appear weak. In the king’s eyes, at least.

“I’ll go see them first thing in the morning. We all need our rest.” I gave Aiden a meaningful look. “That means you as well.” I was sure his mask hid dark circles under his eyes, one benefit of our country’s tradition. I knew my brother, and he’d been pushing himself too hard. I’d gotten snippets of the unrest that had crept into our court from his letters while I was away, but it was another matter to see him in person.

From what I understood, the court was reluctant to accept him as their next ruler. He had no respect for tradition, they claimed. For generations, the royal family protected themselves behind pure white masks, fine clothes, and strict rules. Aiden wanted to make changes that gave him more personal freedom as well as control over the country.

“We’ll all of us go to sleep, and discuss things again after breakfast.”

“Fine,” he begrudged as he turned, offering his arm to the woman beside him, who looked as tired as I felt, plus awkward after witnessing a royal argument. Evie, he said her name was. He’d written about her. He had proposed marriage to her, and she’d said no.

I was very curious about her.

“I am glad you’re home, though. I missed you,” he said.

I smiled. “I missed you too.” My gaze shifted to Evie, and I opened my mouth to

greet her properly.

“Let’s save introductions for a less unconventional time,” he interrupted before I could say anything. He reached for her hand, tucking it in the crook of his arm. “I’d rather your official meeting be a more pleasant one. Or at least one where we’re not arguing.”

She rolled her eyes at him but offered me a shy smile.

“If you insist,” I replied with a smile for her and a raised eyebrow for him. Its effect was somewhat lessened thanks to my mask, but he knew my expressions well enough to spot it.

He chuckled and shook his head with affection in his eyes. “Until tomorrow,” he said, and we parted ways.

The halls were dim and quiet, but I could have found my way to my chambers in the dark. I rarely left the palace growing up, and walking through these halls now felt like slipping into a warm bath. I loved the palace.

Servants had already brought my trunk to my parlor. Normally, I would need help dressing for bed, thanks to the complex finery of the clothing that comes with royalty, but since I was still dressed in a simple traveling dress, I didn’t bother ringing for a handmaiden.

I’d missed my rooms. It had been a long time since I’d been alone, and my rooms were the one place I was granted my privacy.

For six months, I’d been acting as ambassador to Nishima, a neighboring country we had strong ties with. That meant that for nearly six months, I’d been constantly surrounded by people—if not by the dignitaries I was there to see, then by my own guards who never left my side. Even on the journey home, when we’d been sidetracked by the hunt for the Chameleon, I’d never been left on my own.

But in my own palace, in my own rooms, I was alone. And I felt safe.

I fell asleep almost as soon as my head touched my pillow.

The next morning, I’d barely dressed before I heard insistent knocks at the doors to my suite. I knew it was Aiden even before my handmaiden opened the door to reveal him.

“I said after breakfast, Aiden. I’m still—”

“They’ve gotten worse,” he interrupted me, his eyes grim. “Mother and Father. And another doctor, a specialist from Nishima, has examined them.”

He opened and closed his mouth several times, searching for the right words.

“Just say it. What is it?”

“Bianca . . . they’ve been poisoned.”

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About the Author

Lauren Skidmore grew up in Kansas, with stints in Ohio and New York, and currently lives in Utah. She attended Brigham Young University where she earned a BA in English Teaching with an emphasis in Teaching English as a Second Language and Japanese. She then spent a year in Japan teaching and travelling. She hasn’t made it to Europe yet, but it’s on the list and has been to 30 states in the U.S. so far. When she’s not exploring new places, you can probably find her on the internet with fifteen windows open and looking at just one more thing before actually getting something done.

Connect with Lauren: WebsiteGoodreadsTwitterFacebook

Excerpt: Dear Heart, I Hate You by J. Sterling

About DEAR HEART, I HATE YOU

I didn’t plan on him.

Or for him.

Or anything that had to do with Cal Donovan from Boston.

Meeting him had been a complete and utter surprise, taking me one hundred percent off guard. I met new people every single day in my line of work and none of them affected me. Wasn’t that the way of things though? You could meet a thousand people and they’d all mean nothing to you. But then you’d meet that one and they suddenly meant everything.

Excerpt

JULES POV

Cal glanced up at the ceiling and then back at me, his hazel eyes filled with mischief. “I want to argue, but I’m not sure I can. How the hell do you argue with Malibu?”

“You don’t. You can’t.” I grinned back at him. “What about you? Do you work for a big firm?”

“It’s not big by New York standards, but it’s not a five-person shop either. We’re considered a midsize company. But I want to make partner, so I pretty much spend all my time networking and trying to bring in new clients.”

I leaned back slightly. “Is that what you’re doing? Trying to bring me in as a client?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Give me all your money, Jules. Let me triple it for you.”

“Well, when you put it that way . . .” I reached for my purse before playfully shoving the entire thing at him. “Here. Take it.”

He laughed. “You’re smart.”

“So are you.”

“I don’t meet a lot of smart women. No offense,” he said as I pursed my lips, willing him to remove the foot he’d just placed in his beautiful mouth. “It’s just that women tend to see themselves one way, but they’re usually the opposite.”

I bristled, needing more of an explanation than that for why he was putting down my entire gender. “Explain.”

“Okay, but don’t get pissed. Hear me out.” He put his hands up in surrender. “One of the first things women always say is how independent they are, how motivated. But in my experience, they’re usually neither of those things. They’re either searching for a rich guy to provide for them so they don’t have to work, or they’re still living on Mommy and Daddy’s money. And neither of those things are signs of an independent or motivated woman, in my opinion. Unless you count trying to land a sugar daddy motivation,” he said with a grin.

I wanted to disagree with him, but the truth was that a lot of my clients were women who didn’t work at anything except spending their husband’s money. Granted, the men in those situations also tended to want nothing more than eye candy on their arm, so it worked both ways.

Cal spoke again, interrupting my thoughts. “Most people don’t know what they want to do with their life, and they aren’t working toward a goal. I rarely meet anyone who is as together as you are. It’s a compliment, Jules. Take it.” He smiled at me, and I focused on those damn lips again as my irritation faded.

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About J. Sterling

I got fired from my last job. 

It's true. 

I know you're sitting there thinking, "Jenn, how could anyone in their right mind fire someone like you?" And I'd love to give you a good reason, but the truth is that sometimes being all sorts of awesome isn't fun for other people. They don't always tend to like it. lol 

So I picked my pride off the floor, bought a laptop and started writing my first book. And you know what I realized? Writing stories that meant something to me was a million times better than working my ass off for someone who didn't really care about anything other than the bottom line. 

My soul has never felt more satisfied. 

My heart has never been more full.

I've never worked so hard in my life, but I love every second of it. I truly do.

It is SO worth it. 

All of it. 

Every moment.

The journey it took to get to this point- I wouldn't change a thing.

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Spotlight: Cable Car Mystery by Greg Messell

About the Book

On the hottest day of the year in San Francisco in 1959, Private Detectives Sam and Amelia Slater are contemplating fleeing the city for their Stinson Beach house. However, when Sam decides to take a cable car ride to run some errands on the lazy summer day, he’s suddenly thrust into the spotlight when he rescues a woman who fell onto the busy street. Sam pulls the mysterious red haired woman out of the path of an oncoming cable car in the nick of time. The entire incident is captured by a newspaper photographer who splashes Sam’s heroics all over the front page. Sam is troubled not only by his new status as a city hero, but by the rescued woman’s plea for help. She whispers to Sam that she didn’t fall from the cable car but was pushed. She is frightened and disappears into the crowd before Sam can get more details. A San Francisco newspaper launches a campaign to find the mystery woman and Sam hopes to cross paths with her again. 

Meanwhile, Amelia is troubled by the sudden disappearance of her elderly neighbor. Two thuggish younger men who now occupy the house next door say he took a sudden trip. One night when she’s alone Amelia grabs a flashlight and finds some disturbing clues in her neighbor’s garage. What really happened to her neighbor? Amelia is determined to find out.

Award winning author Greg Messel spins a new tale of intrigue in Cable Car Mystery, the sixth book in the Sam Slater Mystery series set in at the 1950s in San Francisco.

Book Excerpt

In the coming days Amelia would try to recall the precise details of the events she witnessed in the middle of the night on Wednesday. 

Amelia would never be able to pinpoint exactly what woke her from a sound sleep at 2 a.m.  As she rolled onto her back and listened, she heard a funny noise inside her house. 
Amelia looked at Sam who was undisturbed and sleeping soundly. She heard the noise again. It seemed to be coming from inside the house. A gentle banging noise, like two pieces of wood colliding. 

Maybe it was her recently adopted Siamese cat Aloysius, prowling around and getting into mischief. Amelia knew the tomcat roamed the house at night and slept much of the day. Sam and Amelia’s bedroom was located on the second floor of their posh townhouse on Leavenworth Street. 

The cat’s first choice for a night time activity was to sleep between Sam and Amelia. Sam quickly vetoed that notion and shut the door on Aloysius at night. The Siamese cat then spent his time pursuing nocturnal adventures.

Amelia gently rolled out of bed and when her feet touched the cool floor, it sent a chill through her. She was wearing a short, yellow, baby doll nightie which provided little warmth when she was not under the covers with Sam. 

She heard the noise again. 

It seemed to be coming from the spare bedroom. Amelia crept down the hall and reached for the knob on the bedroom door. She hesitated. What if there was an intruder? Maybe she should go get her gun or wake up Sam. 

She then decided to proceed. Amelia grabbed the door knob and slowly turned it.  Amelia felt a suction grabbing the door making it harder to open.   She threw her shoulder into the door and popped it open. The bedroom was dark and cold. Immediately she saw the source of the noise and the cool temperatures. 

The trademark San Francisco wind had come up during the night and it was howling.  The blinds on an open window were slapping against the window frame pushed along by the stiff breeze. 

Amelia hurried to the window and pulled up the blinds. The wind penetrated her skimpy nightgown and chilled her to her core. She reached up to push the window closed but stopped when she noticed Aloysius sitting calmly on the second story roof looking out at the horizon. 

“Aloysius, get over here,” Amelia said in a stern whisper. Aloysius turned his head briefly to give her a condescending look and then ignored her, resuming looking out on the horizon. Amelia was freezing but didn’t want to leave Aloysius out in the wind storm. 

Then something caught her eye beyond the cat on the roof. This was the window which offered a full view of George’s back yard and his house. The car she had seen in the driveway the last several days was running and backed up to the garage with it’s trunk open.  

Despite being essentially naked and buffeted by the wind, Amelia strained her eyes to see the strange figures.  In the faint light from the headlights and the light in the trunk, Amelia could see the large bald man, the one she had seen looking out the window, struggling with something in the garage. Then a second man emerged from the garage. He was a husky square-looking man with closely cropped hair, who looked very formable.

The two men now emerged into full view at the rear of the car. They were carrying a large, oblong object, which was wrapped in a plaid blanket. There were two ropes tied around the object. 

The two men slammed the trunk closed and quickly got in the car. Amelia stood at her bedroom window transfixed watching the taillights disappear into the night as they drove away

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About the Author

Greg Messel has spent most of his adult life interested in writing, including a career in the newspaper business. He won a Wyoming Press Association Award as a columnist and has contributed articles to various magazines. Greg lives in Edmonds, Washington on Puget Sound with his wife Jean DeFond.

Greg has written nine novels. His latest is “Cable Car Mystery" which is the sixth in a series of mysteries set in 1959 San Francisco. “Shadows In The Fog,” ”Fog City Strangler," "San Francisco Secrets," "Deadly Plunge" are sequels to the first book in the series "Last of the Seals." His other three novels are "Sunbreaks," "Expiation" and "The Illusion of Certainty."

Connect with Greg: Website  | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Spotlight: Rose Petal Graves by Olivia Wildenstein

Release Date: July 15th 2016

Summary from Goodreads

I thought losing my mother would be the greatest shock of my life, but the greatest shock came after her death.

Founded two centuries ago by an aloof and powerful tribe of Gottwa Indians, Rowan was a quiet town, so quiet that I fled after graduation. Staying away was the plan, but Mom died suddenly, so I rushed home. 

Dad said she suffered a stroke after she dug up one of the ancient graves in our backyard, which happens to be the town cemetery. Creepy, I know. Creepier still, there was no corpse inside the old coffin, only fresh rose petals. 

As we made preparations for Mom’s burial, Cruz Vega, the new medical examiner, arrived. I should have felt relieved, but how could I? He was unnervingly handsome, glowed like a human firefly, and knew absolutely nothing about examining dead bodies. 

But, he did know what killed my mother…or rather who.

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About the Author

Olivia Wildenstein grew up in New York City, the daughter of a French father with a great sense of humor, and a Swedish mother whom she speaks to at least three times a day. She chose Brown University to complete her undergraduate studies and earned a bachelor’s in comparative literature. After designing jewelry for a few years, Wildenstein traded in her tools for a laptop computer and a very comfortable chair. This line of work made more sense, considering her college degree.

When she’s not writing, she’s psychoanalyzing everyone she meets (Yes. Everyone), eavesdropping on conversations to gather material for her next book, baking up a storm (that she actually eats), going to the gym (because she eats), and attempting not to be late at her children’s school (like she is 4 out of 5 mornings, on good weeks).

Wildenstein lives with her husband and three children in Geneva, Switzerland, where she’s an active member of the writing community.

Connect with Olivia: WebsiteTwitterFacebookGoodreads

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