Food and Romance have always gone hand in hand.
From the sweet romance of Lady and the Tramp
To the sexy seduction of 9 1/2 Weeks
Food and Romance just seem to go hand in hand.
So as we started to look for recipes for the holiday natural, we naturally turned to the best chefs we know. Whether its caterer Angelina, chef Angel, or barkeep Ethan, there are plenty of goodies to get you through the holiday season.
To Kick off the Feisty Foodie event, we joined authors Randi Alexander and Sable Hunter on blogtalk radio on Monday night. You can listen to our guest spot by visiting
Of course, we have to start with dessert!
Beverly Preston, author of The Perfect Someday, brings us Italian Rainbow Cookies!
Synopsis:
Tracy Mathews lives life by the perfect
moral code.
After graduating magna cum laude in Marketing, she travels to the fabled
churches of Santorini to capture the picturesque sunset, only to find a
masquerade wedding about to begin. Tracy is persuaded by her younger sister to
crash the ceremony. While donning a mask in Greece, she encounters a
magnetically charming, handsome Italian, who entices her deepest desires.
After a brief and mysterious rendezvous with future promises made, she returns
home only to realize her dreams of the perfect man have been shattered—until an
unexpected job opportunity presents itself in Italy.
Vincent is a fifth generation winemaker in the rolling hills of Tuscany. On the
verge of losing his family’s estate, will Tracy Mathews, an up and coming
marketing entrepreneur, be exactly what he needs to save his family heritage
and his broken heart?
Twitter: @beverlypreston
Here’s
an EXCERPT and a little taste of The Italian!
Tracy
nearly praised God the moment Vincent put his clothes back on. She had tossed
his things in the washing machine while he showered, forced to endure his towel
clad body for the next hour and a half. His torso cut into bricks of
well-defined muscle, tapering into a trim V-cut waist. She likened it to
visiting a world class bakery, cases of glass filled with yummy Italian
cookies, and then remembering she was on a strict diet. Or worse, the kind of
starvation you were made to suffer prior to surgery or there would be stiff
repercussions.
If that
wasn’t tortuous enough, the man loved to cook. Tracy’s skill set in the kitchen
started with making coffee and maxed out at baking cookies. Vincent made
himself at home retrieving a bottle of Sangiovese from the cellar, rummaging
through the pantry and refrigerator for ingredients to make soup. She observed
quietly from the high counter, watching in fascination as he prepared a sashay
of herbs wrapped in cheesecloth, garlic sauce, and a puree of beans. A light
dusting of dark hair covered his forearms, dense muscles flexed as he used the
knife chopping onions and garlic.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” she
croaked, sifting through lust-filled images triggered by each small movement.
The pounding in the back of her head didn’t compare to the beating of her
heart.
“My
mamma, she was never blessed with a girl. It is relaxing for me.” He continued
conversationally, “It gives me something, other than wine, to put my love
into.”
I’ve got something you can put your love into. She damn near said out loud
merely watching him chop vegetables. She could feel heat rising on her face.
Tracy officially wanted to fuck his brains out. She’d never really noticed a
man in such a lustful regard, so completely enamored she would’ve laid out
right there on the counter and done anything he asked of her.
The soup
didn’t take long to cook. She couldn’t find the bravery to move from her seat,
fearing her knees would buckle. A tug-of-war loomed inside her, exhaustion,
pain and hunger pitted themselves against ravenous gritty desire of a whole new
magnitude. Sitting lopsided on a barstool in nothing but black leggings and a coral
colored oversized sweatshirt, Tracy squeezed her thighs together fighting off
the pleasant clenches in her lower abs.
Resting
her elbows on the granite counter, she buried her face in her hands. The tips
of her fingers rolled over her eyelids in a circular motion, breathing shallow
through her nose.
“Headache
come back? Do you need some more Ibuprofen?”
Tracy
buried her brazen grin.
“No.”
she said softly, barely shaking her head. “Just trying not to hurdle the
counter, throw myself at you, make a complete fool of myself.”
A deep
throaty chuckle simmered at her side. “Take a taste.”
Butterflies
fluttered in her belly, spinning his words in filth.
Tracy
swiveled the chair to face him, blowing gently on a spoonful of steamy broth.
Sounds of appreciation hummed in her throat. “This is delicious.”
“I’ve
got to get you all better.” His fingers brushed over her upper arm fixing the
placement of her sweatshirt.
“So you
can ravish me properly.” Breathless, she sat there turning crimson red
repeating the words he muttered a few hours earlier.
A slow
burn of a smile lifted at one end of his mouth into a wry grin. Vincent sipped
his wine, his eyes never faltered from her face.
“You
speak far more Italian than you let on,” he remarked eventually.
Lights played
in his eyes and his thick dark hair curled tightly near the collar of his
t-shirt. Vincent placed the bowl of soup on the counter, moving closer, wedging
between her legs. Mesmerized by his rugged handsome features, Tracy had no
words. Her eyes fluttered as his fingers played up her shoulder with unbearable
lightness. Her gaze fell to the stubble on his neck, longing coiled through
her.
“You
feel for me?” he asked in whisper. The tips of his warm fingers dipped into the
draped neckline of her sweatshirt, covering her heart with his palm.
Drawn to
him like a magnet, she straightened her stance, lifting her chest. Her breasts
ached with need, the tips pulled taunt agonizing against the fuzzy piling of
her sweatshirt. She wanted him to touch her, to put his mouth on her breast,
but he held steady. Tracy thought waiting would bring gratification, but it
seemed more like torture. Forcing a small smile, she answered softly, “Yes.
Very much so.”
“I feel
it too.” His breath fanned across her cheek, the elusive sweet scent drawing
another zing to her center as he kissed the corner of her mouth.
Cautiously,
he took more, parting her lips, opening and tasting, easing his way to the
other corner. His hot breath surged unevenly, rugged and refrained, gradually
slipping his tongue deeper. The long, unrushed intimacy of the kiss clouded her
mind.
Tracy
melted into the drugging sweet taste of him, adjusting her curves to the hard,
flat planes of his body. They molded together, tongues penetrating further with
the soulful purpose of baring emotions. Vincent slowly and tenaciously took
exactly what he wanted, her heart, and with great controlled determination. She
trembled, knowing how incredible sex would be, erotic and sensual, possessing
her one deliberate movement at a time. Tears stung the corner of her eyes from
the raw sentiment sweeping through her.
His
restraint rippled through the ropes of his muscles, treating her as if she were
a delicate piece of hand-blown glass. He pulled away dragging the wet kiss over
her cheek.
“Please,
Vincent.” Her shallow breathing came in raspy pants. The soreness and
discomfort would be worth the pleasure. She tugged him closer, threading her
fingers into the layers of thick hair. “It’s okay. I don’t care how much my
body hurts.”
“I
just…I need to go slow, bella.” He held back, carefully folding her into his
arms, caressing her, reassuring her. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
His
brief pause exposed something, a vulnerability in his voice. Tracy wondered. Maybe he’s suffering from BHS too. She
nodded mechanically, her cheek pressed to his chest. They stood there, cocooned
in silence and ravenous need, petting and stroking, until their breathing
regulated.
“Now,
eat your pasta e fagioli.” The curve of his smile lifted against her temple.
“So you can heal and I can ravish you properly.”
RECIPE:
Italian
Rainbow Cookies
Ingredients:
- 7
ounces marzipan paste or almond paste
- 1
cup sugar
- 2
sticks unsalted butter, softened
- 4
large eggs, separated
- 1
teaspoon almond extract
- 2
cups sifted all-purpose flour
- 5
drops green food coloring, or to desired color
- 5
drops red food coloring, or to desired color
- ¼
cup raspberry jam (preferably seedless)
- ¼
cup apricot preserves
- 6
ounces semisweet chocolate chips
Preparation:
Preheat oven to 350°F and grease 3 (13- by 9-inch) metal baking
pans. Line bottom of each with wax paper, letting it extend at 2 opposite ends,
and grease paper. Break marzipan paste into small pieces and grind with sugar
in food processor until no lumps remain. Transfer to a large bowl and add
butter. Beat with an electric mixer until light and fluffy, then add yolks and
almond extract and beat well. Beat in flour and salt on low speed. Beat egg
whites in another bowl with cleaned beaters until they just hold stiff peaks
and stir one third into batter to lighten slightly (batter will still be
stiff). Fold in remaining whites thoroughly. Divide dough into thirds (about 1
1/2 cups each). Stir green food coloring into one third and red food coloring
into another, leaving one third plain. Spread each dough separately into a pan.
(Layers will be thin.)
Bake layers in batches in middle of oven until just set and
beginning to turn golden along edges, 7 to 10 minutes total. Run a knife along
edges to loosen from pan, then while still hot, invert a large rack over pan
and invert layer onto rack, pulling gently on wax paper overhangs to release if
necessary. Peel off wax paper and cool completely.
Line a large shallow baking pan with wax paper and slide green
layer into it. Spread raspberry jam evenly over green layer and carefully top
with plain layer. Spread apricot jam evenly over uncolored layer and carefully
top with pink layer (trim edges if necessary). Cover with plastic wrap and
weight with a large cutting board or baking pan. Chill at least 3 hours.
Melt chocolate in a double boiler or a metal bowl set over a pan of
barely simmering water. Remove weight and plastic wrap and spread chocolate
evenly over top, but not sides, of pink layer. Let stand at room temperature
until set, about 1 hour, and cut into small diamonds (12 rows crosswise and 12
diagonal rows).
*************************
Now for a little Island flair, we travel to Sybaris Cove
From Tara Rose, the author of Summer Nights :The Doms of Sybaris Cove 2, we have Crab meat Ravigole.
.
Blurb:
Giselle Macey has lusted after Kade Durante and Elliot Raleigh, executives at Phoebe’s Playthings, for most of her life. When she lands a job making custom floggers in their department, she becomes an unwilling pawn in a game of greed and revenge as she learns the chilling truth about her past.
Manufacturing department heads Kade and Elliot are loyal to Phoebe’s Playthings, the company their families built. An ancient curse on the male descendants of both families keeps them on the island, but when they become Doms and lovers to longtime friend Giselle, they couldn’t be happier. They’ve wanted to be more than friends with the energetic, adventurous beauty their entire lives.
But when the company is undermined from within, and the distant cousins are forced to choose between family loyalty, not to mention their jobs, and their newfound love with Giselle, will they lose her forever?
Buy links:
EXCERPT
Giselle didn’t say anything. Her mind was still reeling at Kade’s comment. Had he meant it, or was it merely the heat of the moment talking? Just something he’d said in response to her comment, without thinking about it? Did he realize she’d meant what she said, or had he assumed that she, too, was merely reacting?
And it did it matter? She was here, tied to a cross, and a thunderstorm was approaching. They were ready to play with her by candlelight, and she didn’t see how anything could possibly top this.
This was the best night of her life.
* * * *
Elliot kissed her gently as he put the blindfold on. “Just like last time, one of us will have a hand on you at all times. Do you remember your safe words?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good girl.” His voice washed over her, soft and sultry. She craved to hear those words now, because pleasing them meant more to her than anything when they played.
The first sensation was soft, like a piece of fur. “Tonight there will be no impact play,” said Kade. “It’s all about sensations. We want you to relax and enjoy this, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, Sir.” Did you mean what you said? Do you and Elliot both love me, too?”
She recognized the falls of a thick flogger as they gently brushed it over her back, ass cheeks, and the backs of her legs. One of them brushed it across her nipples as well, and tossed it lightly between her legs so it grazed her pussy.
Giselle moaned with each lazy pass of the falls, and when she recognized the edge of a leather strap caressing the same areas, she ached to feel its sting on her ass. “Just a little paddling or spanking, Sirs? Please?”
“No. None.” Kade’s voice was filled with humor, and she knew he meant it. They were going to torture her with gentle play tonight, and that thought nearly made her cry again. This wasn’t about making her ass red or pushing her to the edges of her pain limits. It was about giving her such intense pleasure that she couldn’t even stand it.
All her years of fantasies hadn’t come close to the reality of being with these two men. She was going to tell them that she loved them, and this time she’d make sure they both heard it, and knew she meant it. She had to. They needed to know. Too many of their own family members had kept things from them, and Giselle didn’t want to live a lie like so many before her had done. She wanted everything out in the open.
The rain was very heavy now, and beat a pattern on a roof that reminded her of the Cuban music. She could hear the wind howling outside, and although she couldn’t see the lightning flashes, she heard loud thunder.
But all that faded into the background as the guys now ran something sharp and metallic up and down her arms. It was no more than an inch wide. The sharpness wasn’t concentrated, like the point of a knife, but rather was spread out along the width of the implement. “Sir? May I ask what that is?”
“Do you like it?” asked Kade.
“Very much.”
“Tonight I’ll tell you what we’re using. This is called a Wartenberg wheel, but it’s not a single circle. It’s a wide circle with tiny points all along it.”
“Thank you, Sir. I love it.”
He grasped her hair and pulled her head back, then ran the same metallic edged implement he’d used last weekend across her neck, then down over her nipples. “I know you want to know what this is.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“It’s a knife point.”
“Oh…wow. You’re so gentle with it.” The idea that he’d been wielding something that could be so deadly, yet had used it in such a seductive, tender way brought fresh tears to her eyes.
“I’m glad you approve. You know Elliot and I would never hurt you, right?”
“Yes, Sir. I know that.”
“Good girl.”
Her soft moans competed with the noise from the storm as Kade kept up his teasing with the knife and the Wartenberg wheel, while Elliot used various floggers, either letting the falls slap her skin gently, or running the handle along her skin and other parts.
They didn’t neglect any part of her body. They brushed the implements along her back, arms, legs, nipples, the undersides of breasts, her ass cheeks, and even her clit. Her pussy was so wet she was certain the tiles underneath her must be damp by now, and as they continued, her moans became one continuous whimper.
When they began using their fingers as well as the toys to tease her, she started begging them to fuck her.
“Just a bit longer,” said Elliot, his voice silky smooth and teasing. “I’m not sure we’re ready yet to fuck you. This is so much fun.”
“I don’t know when we’ll be ready,” said Kade, “I think we should wait until the rain stops, at least.”
The rain didn’t sound as though it had even slowed, let alone would stop tonight.
“Please, Sir…please. I need you both inside me.”
One of them pulled her head back again and slapped her nipples with the leather strap. “Tell us what you’ll give us,” teased Kade. “In detail.”
“Anything…”
He slapped her nipples again. “Not good enough. We want graphic details, Giselle.”
They expected her to paint a verbal picture at a time like this? “Um…you can suck my clit and my nipples, and spank me, and… shit. I don’t know. I can’t do this right now. I can barely think.”
Kade laughed softly, but it was sexy and fun, not derisive. “Okay. You’re right. There’s no more blood in your brain right now than there is in ours.” He kissed her mouth. “And you’ve earned the fucking, sweetheart.”
Recipe: Crabmeat Ravigote:
Ravigote Sauce
- 2 cups mayonnaise
- 1/4 cup creole mustard
- 1 teaspoon Crystal hot sauce
- 1 teaspoon Worcestershire sauce
- 1 lemon, juice of
- 1/4 cup capers, chopped
- 1/4 cup prepared horseradish
- 1/4 cup red onion, minced
- 1 lb lump crabmeat
- kosher salt
- fresh ground black pepper
- 4 creole tomatoes, sliced thick
- 1/2 head green leaf lettuce, very thinly sliced
Directions:
1
Combine the mayonnaise, creole mustard,hot sauce, Worcestershire, and lemon juice in a mixing bowl and mix until smooth.
2
Add the capers, horseradish and red onion and mix well.
3
In a separate bowl, sprinkle the crabmeat with the kosher salt and ground pepper.
4
Combine with 1/4 Cup of the sauce in a bowl and toss gently; do not break up the crab lumps.
5
Place 3 slices of tomato in a circle of 4 serving plates.
6
Place the lettuce in the center of each plate and top with the crabmeat mixture.
7
Garnish with the capers and lemon slices and the remaining sauce on the side.
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