Laura Trentham
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Wilted Bacon Salad

4/15/2015

1 Comment

 
My Falcon Football series has been described as FRIDAY NIGHT LIGHTS meets SWEET HOME ALABAMA. And, I have to agree! Football plays a part, but even more it's about life and love (and food!) in a small Southern town. As Alec, my hero in Book 3, MELTING INTO YOU, thinks "Old lessons from his mother surfaced. In the south, births, deaths, thank yous, and apologies all involved food."

Check out my previous recipe posts from the FALCON FOOTBALL series, Ada's Banana Pudding, Darcy's Chicken and Dumplings and Logan's Skillet Blackberry Cobbler, and Logan's Bacon-Basil Mac and Cheese.  This week I'm featuring a Wilted Bacon Salad. Enjoy!
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SLOW AND STEADY RUSH is a RT Book Reviews TOP PICK!!
"....marvelously funny, engaging, and memorable in a place where everyone knows your name."

"Laura Trentham writes an intricately woven story that throbs with rich emotion. I laughed, I cried, I loved Slow and Steady Rush!"
Bestselling Author of the Sweet, Texas Series
Candis Terry

"The instant chemistry and dynamic give-and-take...Trentham pulls the various elements together in time to deliver a sweet, satisfying story."
Publisher's Weekly
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Wilted Bacon Salad
While fresh-picked straight out the the garden lettuce works best, you can substitute a mixed greens or buttercrunch lettuce

6-8 cups lettuce
Dressing:
4 slices bacon
1/4 cup water
1T sugar
2-3T vinegar

Cook bacon, crumble. Remove, but retain grease. Turn off stove. Sprinkle in sugar. Add vinegar. Add water. Toss with lettuce and crumbled bacon. Add toppings of choice. Serve immediately. Can be a side or meal.

Enjoy a snippet from SLOW AND STEADY RUSH - OUT NOW!
Ingrained training had him crouching low and moving across the short open field as if a sniper had him in his sights. He squatted at the edge of the bank and parted low-hanging willow branches. Leaning forward, he hung onto a ropey, pliable limb, his fisted hand stripping a row of leaves. His heart nearly stopped but then galloped out of his chest to match his bulging eyes.

Holy shit. It was a naked woman. A fine, naked woman.     

She stood hip deep in a slow-moving eddy with her back to him. Her face tilted to the sky, she shook wet hair and squeezed out the water. The feminine, graceful movements dried his mouth. Rivulets raced from her shoulders to the hollow of her lower back. Water bobbed around her ass, framing perfection. The beauty of the scene went beyond the erotic.

He was intruding on a private moment and needed to leave. He squeezed his eyes shut. Nothing but the whisper of the wind in the trees and the flow of the river filled the quiet.

He took a step back, cracking a dead branch under his boot, and froze. He’d be fired from the team if he were accused of voyeurism. Had she heard him? One eye opened and went straight to woman in the river. He tried his damnedest to look away, but hell, he was only human.

Another intruder captured his attention. The water lapping the far bank rippled. Wide body, flat head. He mouthed a curse. Cottonmouth. Big one, too. A bite might not kill her, but it would cause excruciating pain. The snake swam straight toward his fine, naked woman.

He stood, thumbed the safety, and cupped the gun in both hands. He had one shot to get the job done. Not the first time he’d been in that position. His finger caressed the trigger. The gun’s report and the woman’s scream trampled the seductive beauty of the scene.

The woman fell and stirred up enough silt to darken the usually clear water. Bits of snake floated down the river. “My God!” she repeated as a litany, giving the snake remnants wide berth.

Shallow, fast-moving water eddied around her shoulders and concealed her curves as she scrambled backward on her hands and feet. Dark hair streamed into her face. She brushed it aside only to have the water push it back in front of her eyes.

He couldn’t let her panic and drown. Pushing willow branches aside, he called out, “You’re welcome.” He’d aimed for nonthreatening, but had landed closer to surly. Wincing, he rubbed his nape. Jesus, he was an idiot.

She startled and shielded her eyes against the sun. Her other arm curled over her breasts. “You could have shot me. What are you doing out here?”

Her voice shook, and he recognized the emotion. Fear. He followed her darting gaze to the near bank. Clothing hung from a low tree branch.

Her words jumbled out. “The state forest starts on the other side. You’re on private land. Were you spying on me?”

“Of course not.” Maybe he’d looked a little longer than necessary, but damn . . . what man with a beating heart wouldn’t? “That was a cottonmouth, by the way. You wouldn’t want to get hauled to the hospital like that, would you?” He tried a jokey smile and made vague gestures toward her nakedness. Her expression remained stony, turning his smile into a grimace.

“It looked like an innocent little water snake to me. I was in more danger of getting shot than bit.” She crouched. Water cascaded over her shoulders. Her arm pressed her breasts together, only the top curves visible. The hand not covering her breasts shooed him away like a dog. “Hello? Would you mind giving me a little privacy?”

What the fuck was the matter with him? He was acting like a perv.

“Of course. I’ll be on my way and let you get decent, ma’am.” He inclined his head and touched the brim of his baseball cap with a forefinger, playing the gentleman even as base impulses urged him to watch her nude body rise out of the water.

“Wait just a minute! We’re not done, mister.” Her voice, husky and melodious now that shrill fear no longer colored it, sent a tingle down his spine.

Halfway across the field to his truck, he stopped and tugged his cap lower and thought about the firecracker scrambling up the bank. He hadn’t seen her around town. Who the hell was she? A more important question forced itself into his consciousness. Was she still naked?

1 Comment

Logan's Skillet Blackberry Cobbler

4/1/2015

3 Comments

 
The past two weeks I've feature recipes from my recent release SLOW AND STEADY RUSH, Ada's Banana Pudding and Darcy's Chicken and Dumplings. This week you are in for a treat in more ways than one. Not only am I including the recipe for Logan's Blackberry Cobbler but you get a sneak peak at  CAUGHT UP IN THE TOUCH, releasing July 21st and available for preorder. It features a chef and the woman tasked with wooing him away from Falcon, Alabama.
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SLOW AND STEADY RUSH is a RT Book Reviews TOP PICK!!
"....marvelously funny, engaging, and memorable in a place where everyone knows your name."
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Logan’s Skillet Blackberry Cobbler

Any fruit can be substituted in this iron skillet cobbler.
¾ cup brown sugar
1 stick of butter/margarine + 2 tbsp for top
2 pie crusts (can be store bought or homemade)
Blackberries (or other fresh fruit)
¾ cup white sugar

1.     In large iron skillet, melt butter and combine with brown sugar.
2.     Lay one piecrust over sugar/butter mixture.
3.     Fill with fruit. (Can be fresh blackberries, raspberries, etc. Or, thinly sliced apples or peaches.)
4.     Top with white sugar.
5.     Cover with piecrust and dot top with butter.
6.     Cook at 350 for thirty minutes.
PS. Logan recommends putting a cookie under skillet to catch any drips.


And now, as a special treat, much like Logan's cobbler, a snippet of CAUGHT UP IN THE TOUCH. Meet Logan and Jessica...
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“Allow me, ma’am.” He held the door open, and she had to brush by him to make it through the opening. Anger boiled through the ice, animating her face. The woman looked like she wanted to punch his two front teeth out.

She kept an inch of space between them, but the air carried her scent. Clean and citrusy and delicious. He followed her into the bustling kitchen. Laughter overlay the clang of metal and thunk of dishes.

“How about a quick tour?” He gestured toward the prep area.

Her eyes narrowed and darted over his face. She harrumphed and looked around. “I’ll admit I’m curious.”

Two of the Falcon football players stopped their work at the stove to give him a wink and a thumbs-up behind her back. He sent them a brisk shake of his head and mouthed, “Extra laps.”

Her head whipped around, and he forced a smile. Usually never at a loss for words, he stumbled a bit before finding his groove describing the inner workings of Adaline’s, herding her toward the dessert station. She examined the trays. “Not a huge selection.”

“No, but what we have is outstanding. We use seasonal fruit in the cobbler. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Today is blackberry. My favorite. Here—” He grabbed a clean spoon and scooped up a bite, raising it to her mouth. She startled and bumped his arm. The dark sugared mash fell off the spoon and down the front of her pristine shirt, leaving a berry-colored skid mark straight down the curve of her right breast.

“Damn…I mean, dangit, I’m sorry.” He grabbed a damp rag on the counter and wiped over her breast, smearing the stain and dampening her shirt. Her breast was full and soft and peaked under his attention. His mind fired off a cease and desist order which his hand ignored. An ungentlemanly urge to drop the rag altogether and stroke with a bare hand hammered.

She plucked the rag from him and pushed his hand away. “Allrighty there, Mountain Man, lay off. Nothing but some bleach is going help at this point.”

He expected disdain and maybe anger. Instead, humor lilted her voice, and a small smile tipped up one corner of her mouth, softening her face as she smoothed down the stained shirt. Heat whooshed through his body. The combination of attraction and embarrassment flashed him back to his adolescence, and he shifted on his feet, feeling suddenly gangly and uncomfortable in his own skin.
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Out now from St. Martin's Press, SLOW AND STEADY RUSH.
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3 Comments

Ada's Banana Pudding

3/16/2015

2 Comments

 
The first of my Falcon Football books, SLOW AND STEADY RUSH, is on the (virtual) shelves! I'm so excited, and I'd thought it'd been fun to feature a few of the recipes I talk about and a snippet of the scene that features the food. In the coming months leading up to the release of CAUGHT UP IN THE TOUCH, Book 2, I'll even give you a couple of previews of the next book. Logan Wilde is a chef, after all. I have a newsletter signup at the right if you're interested in more information. Check back next Wednesday to see what's next...
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RT book reviews
TOP PICK.

"...a marvelously funny, engaging, and memorable romance in a place where everyone knows your name."
Ada's Banana Pudding
This is labor intensive, but once you’ve had Ada’s version, you’ll never be satisfied with instant pudding. Ada and Darcy both recommend eating while still warm. Leftovers can be refrigerated. And if you even mention marshmallows or meringue, you will not be invited back for seconds! (A printable version is available HERE.)

1 cup sugar
½ cup all-purpose flour
½ tsp salt
2 cups milk
1 tsp vanilla
1 tbsp butter
4 egg yolks
1 box vanilla wafers
4-5 ripe bananas

1.     Layer ½ box of wafers and ½ bananas (sliced) in bottom of 9X13 baking dish.
2.     Combine sugar, flour, salt and mix well.
3.     In saucepan, beat egg yolks well. Start over med-high heat.
4.     Add dry mix and milk. Stir constantly.
5.     When mix reaches pudding consistency (takes 10-15 minutes), remove from heat and add butter and vanilla.
6.     Pour half on wafer/bananas. Layer with remaining wafers and sliced bananas. Pour remaining pudding on top.

Enjoy an excerpt of SLOW AND STEADY RUSH

His mouth descended. Even though he accepted that he should keep his hands off, his subconscious refused to abide by the logical commands. His tongue coasted along the length of her full, soft upper lip before he pulled it into his mouth. She tasted sweet, like the banana pudding behind her.

He deserved a slap, half-expected one, but instead she delved fingers into his hair and knocked his baseball cap to the floor. Her body melded with his without any encouragement from his hands, which were free to wander up and down her back.

Surrendering to the madness, he shoved the banana pudding to the side and lifted her to sit on the counter, their faces level. Her knees parted, and he stepped into the void. Her heels on his butt pulled him tight against her. God, she was little, but curved and soft and all woman. He pressed into the fullness of her breasts.

Her skirt rode high, an invitation for his hands to coast up bare, silky thighs. He accepted. They moved under her skirt to her hips. The callused tips of his fingers caught on the smooth, satiny fabric of her panties. Her tongue slipped into his mouth. An involuntary groan rose from his chest before he returned the favor, curling his tongue against hers. She pulled at his shoulders, her fingernails scratching through the cotton of his shirt.

He’d kissed her for a very simple reason. He wanted to. His anger and hurt had given him the excuse. It would have been better if she’d been outraged and slapped him away, shamed him out of this attraction. Instead, she turned into a wildcat in his arms. He wanted to shove her panties to the side and tame her.

Avery growled from the door. Could the dog sense Darcy was an imminent threat to Robbie’s sanity? He broke the kiss and heaved in slow, deep breaths. She blinked languorously, her pupils dilated, as if waking from a dream. Her lips were swollen and rosy, and color slashed her cheeks. He wanted her bad. A lurch of fear rocked his stomach, and he threw up walls to protect himself.

+++

Robbie’s kiss stole all logical threads of thought, hurtling her into a territory where only sensations were processed. His soft hair under her fingers, the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the rough denim abrading her inner thighs, his hands squeezing her hips. But, mostly, his lips and tongue as they worked her into an aroused frenzy.

His mouth drew away from hers, and she floated in the tumultuous aftermath. His face was cast of stone, any sort of gentleness she’d felt in his kiss not reflected in his frigid eyes or frowning mouth. He slid his hands down her legs to pry her ankles from around his hips.

He left her to teeter on the edge of the counter, legs spread wantonly. Forces of nature held true no matter the tipping of her world on its axis, and gravity pulled her to the floor, knees wobbly and hands shaking. After roving his gaze down her body and back to her face, he turned and moved toward the door.

His sudden pivot back made her inhale sharply. In two steps, he had her bracketed between his arms, both his hands on the counter. Their bodies were so close, his heat, his desire pulsed like a living thing, yet he didn’t press into her or touch her in any way.

“I want—” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said, ending on a hiss.

She wanted it too. Wanted him more than she’d ever wanted a man. She’d never felt this needy, this wild. Her legs rocked open, and she rose on her toes. She craved the touch of his hands. He could take her here or carry her to her room. It didn’t matter where he claimed her. It didn’t matter who saw them. They inhaled in synchronicity. She tilted her face to his . . .

“. . . my damn pudding.”

His tensed bicep brushed her sensitive breasts. He tucked the casserole dish under his arm like a football. Performing a militarily precise about-face, he stalked to the door. Avery cut off mid-growl, his head swiveling between them.

A potent combination of anger, lust, and humiliation jolted her body into action. His cap lay on the floor and she kicked it, launching it to the ceiling. Avery caught it on a jump and loped after Robbie. He stopped to retrieve it from his dog’s mouth and mashed it on his head. Avery received a stiff, but gentle pat. Man and dog disappeared around the corner of the house.

She stared out the screen door. A breeze rustled the roses climbing the trellis, the scent at odds with the bile climbing her throat. The spray and crunch of gravel under spinning wheels unstuck her. She picked up the nearest thing to her hand and hurled it at the screen. The overly ripe banana splattered on the floor, leaving a goopy, sweet-smelling mess.

Damn him to hell.

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2 Comments

    Laura Trentham

    Author of Historical and Contemporary Romance


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