Being an everything-mystery kinda gal, I decided to see if anyone had come up with a thing called mystery cookies. Well, just my luck, they have. Apparently, several someones have done it as a matter of fact. But this is the first recipe of that name that turned up on my search page. It’s from the magazine Midwest Living. Which is kinda funny since that’s where I live and both of my fictional leading ladies hail from there aswell.
Please feel free to make these cookies. Then let me know how they turned out. I’m so not a baker. I never get the instructions right. My worst attempt was the time I forgot to add the flour, and the butter mixture dripped off the cookie sheet and started a fire on the oven floor. Oddly enough, my mother was a gifted baker.
So yup. I’d rather write than bake. But if you’re a baker and mystery lover, please. try these out. How can they go wrong with the word mystery in the title?
Get the recipe here.
We’re enjoying lovely weather here in Central Illinois. I almost feel guilty this morning as I read about the people in Florida and Texas who are dealing with the dreadful aftermath of hurricanes. One of the latest stories covers the attempt to fight the mosquitoes in flood-ravaged Texas. Another story said the flood waters also carried raw sewage.
In Florida people apparently are working in sweltering heat while they try to rebuild their lives. My heart goes out to everyone affected by the storms. At least authorities seem to be doing as much as they can. I read that the Air Force is lending a hand with battling the mosquitoes. But it will be a long time, I fear, before many lives will return to normal.
Meanwhile I’m basking in highs in the upper 70s with nighttime temps dropping into the mid 50s. I’ve been taking advantage of the weather by having my breakfast tea on the back patio. I want to enjoy this weather while I can. It won’t be long before winter turns up again. Ugh. I’m so not a winter person.
My writing is proceeding. I put together a publishing schedule last night and realized I want to shift focus for a while. I had been working on a romantic suspense book. But Ginger Black, Melanie Hart’s sidekick, is tramping around in my head and screaming that she wants to tell a story of her own. Goodness, she’s even handed me the title: Ginger’s Revenge. So look out world, here she comes. LOL But of course this will take me a while to write.
He hunched his shoulders and picked up his pace. The man had followed this path home through this tiny park hundreds of times. He knew it better than he knew his own hand. So why on this night was his pulse racing? His hands sweating?
The word nerves came to mind, and he cursed himself for giving way to them.
He shook his head. Stephanie had threatened him. Had told him she would never forgive him. He had never seen such anger, but what could she actually do? She had no power, no contacts.
He tightened his coat collar and cast his gaze over the glistening snow. It was a frigid night. A night better spent driving home instead of wandering home through a deserted park.
He sighed and lifted his head. Dumping Stephanie had sounded so simple. It was the perfect solution, probably the only solution really. How could he know she would take his decision so hard? He had never promised her forever. Still, he could hardly believe the trauma his decision had cost him.
He stepped past a string of pine trees. A punishing north wind pushed him sideways. He danced through a couple of quick steps, arms flailing, to avoid plunging to the frigid ground.
Recovering, he swore softly and shoved his coat sleeve back, and glanced at his watch. Late now. The street lights were on. But it was the puddle of blackness between lights that made him shiver.
He needed to think. Needed to come up with an excuse for missing dinner.
He paused, cast a glance backwards. Had he heard something? He squinted., peered around bushes. Shook his head. “Nothing there,” he reassured himself.
He set out again, his thoughts shifting now to Angela. Beautiful, faithful, boring Angela. The perfect wife. The woman who would one day morph into an exceptional mother.
He inwardly cringed. What had he been thinking? He was lucky to have her.
Had it been old habits or the siren song of a first love that had driven him back into Stephanie’s arms? That woman was like a fine wine. Difficult to put down. But so what? He needed to stay focused on what he wanted. A respectable life. An organized home. A family.
He rounded a corner. A figure stepped in front of him, blocking his way. She held a knife in front of her. Lamplight glinted off the hard steel of the blade just before it found his beating heart.
“Angela,” he cried as his breath failed him, but his prayer was lost to the roar of the wind.
My current WIP is moving ahead so–s l o w l y. Partly, that’s because it’s summer, a season when my protestant work ethics abandons me in favor of taking naps and guzzling numerous glasses of ice tea.
But the main reason for my lack of impressive progress is that I’m working on my first romantic suspense novel.
While I love to write suspenseful scenes, writing romance, at least to the level where I can slap the word romance on its cover, is a terrifying experience.
Please understand, all of my books, have a light romantic thread, as humans do what they are prone to do and fall in love, even when there’s a murder lingering around the edges of their lives. Those are side stories to the murder which always takes center stage. But if I’m going to slap the word romance on this wip, I need to nudge my romantic elements up a notch–or more.
I’m trying. Part of the effort has included reading deeply in the genre. That’s helping some, but I’ve been a mystery reader nearly all my life so the shift isn’t all that easy for me.
I’ve enjoyed the books, though, so I hope that’s a plus. Anyway, should you want to check out my final efforts, keep an eye posted here. I’ll announce when the book’s done and post a sample.
In the meantime, here’s the story’s cover: