| 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. |  |  | SLOW AND STEADY RUSH is a RT Book Reviews TOP PICK!! "....marvelously funny, engaging, and memorable in a place where everyone knows your name." |
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.
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.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Out now from St. Martin's Press, SLOW AND STEADY RUSH.
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