Salsa for Summer Camp
By SC Dane
Aah, summer. It has finally arrived, and with it comes the feast of the senses.
The touch of grass, a cool and lush carpet beneath bare feet, the sprigs tickling between the toes.
The sounds of dogs barking as they chase screeching kids high on the abandon of summer vacation. Screen doors slap, lawn mowers drone like flies.
The sight of tanned, bare chested men. Hands down the best part of summer.
The smell of warmth and lazy flowers, cut lawns and salty oceans, caressed aloft upon breezes that kiss the skin.
Finally, the taste. The tantalizing paramour to smell, who delivered to our taste buds the appetizing aroma of the backyard grill, watering our mouths for the dishes only summer can provide. Corn on the cob, watermelon, potato salad.
And fresh salsa, with bits of sun-kissed tomato, sharp onion, and cilantro stretching from the baked earth of the garden to the vast blue of a cloudless sky. An explosion of flavors worthy of being served on the Fourth of July.
1 medium onion
1 jalapeno pepper, seeded
1/2 bunch of cilantro
2 garlic cloves
1/4 cup white vinegar
Juice squeezed from one lime
2 tablespoons of lemon juice
Salt and pepper to taste.
Dice, dice, dice your butt off. Don't cheat and grind the veggies up in a food processor. You want this salsa chunky. Let it sit overnight in the fridge, and stir it on occasion to get those veggies besotted with the vinegar and citrus.
Speaking of besotted, ahem. Summer is also the season of Romance. Strolls on the beach with your summer fling, and warm nights perfect for skinny dipping.
Which makes it the ideal time to give thanks to the gals at MFRW (Marketing For Romance Writers). Like a mini Amazonian army, they have recruited and led many a writing soldier onto the battlefield of marketing and swept them on to victory. They've done so with grace, humor that still leaves me smiling, and a loyalty to their fellow authors that makes me proud to be a comrade in arms.
Thank you. Not only have you provided the leadership, but also the forum with which we romance writers can compare and console and commiserate with our peers. You've given us shoulders to cry on and ears to gripe to, and oh yes! the steps from which to launch our passions.
They've also given me a place to roast my virtual marshmallows during this Summer Camp fun. Visit tinyurl.com/mfrwgroup to follow The Taste of Summer July 12-14th, and, because I know you want to, croon out your tuneless rendition of Kumbaya. We'll all join in (okay, we'll laugh and point), but it's still good times!
See you 'round the campfire.
Books by S C Dane
The powers that be at Amazon got my author name screwed up for my "Luna" book, but my publisher is working on getting that fixed.
Blurb for Luna:
Beth is a misfit struggling to be a responsible woman in human society. Then she meets Alec, a mysterious stranger, who knows by her scent that she is a rare Luna, the only being who can ensure the future of his wolf-pack. When human beings injure Alec, Beth retreats from the stagnant safety of her human world and surrenders her fate to the wolf-man.
Beth’s and Alec’s love for one another ignites the power of the Luna that courses through her veins, and she must learn the laws of being wild wolf if she is to live with Alec and his pack. But they are not the only wolf-people who covet the blood of Luna, and Beth must learn to harness the consuming power of her Luna and use it to safeguard her new family, even if it means giving up the very thing she was born to protect.
Set in the countryside of
, this novel unfolds as Beth surrenders
her body to its absolute essence while she is protected by the loyal wolves she
is destined to love. But their world is not only precious, it is also perilous,
and Beth’s freshened passion for life just may be the catalyst for her death. Maine
|No Little Thing|
Luna: Book One of The Luna Chronicle
Excerpt for No Little Thing:
Griffyd couldn’t stand it any longer. He had been spying on the human woman while she slept, and had found himself inching closer to where she lay, snuggled comfortably in his bed. Yet one of her arms escaped her cocoon, where it draped over the edge of the mattress as if beckoning him, inviting him to run one of his fingers along the soft skin of her inner wrist.
He felt a purr flutter up through his chest, which surprised him. He had never purred before, and the sensation of it thrilled him, flurried his heart rate. As did the sight he drank in with his obsidian eyes.
His faemne had curled up like a little nestling and had burrowed deeper into the downy folds of his bed. Yes, he liked the sight of that a lot. She looked so peaceful buried in amongst his bedding, so utterly at home, that it sped his breathing so that his chest clenched.
Damn him for what he had the undeniable urge to do. Running his finger along her tender, forbidden skin only heightened his need to touch. He wanted to feel more of her, he desired to feel the weight of her body in his arms, upon his stomach; he desperately wanted to snuffle the dip of her neck where it met her collarbone.
Griffyd the vampire-killer, the monster he knew she thought him to be, got up off his knees and slipped himself beneath her sleeping form to cradle her like she was but a fragile fawn.
And squeezed his eyes shut against the bliss of it.
No Little Thing
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