I love food.

Thus, my characters love food. Therefore, I often include mentions of dishes made by characters in my books that are real dishes cooked by moi or that people I love have made for me.

Since I’m all about food, and love (though this is somewhat synonymous for me), I’m all about spreading the love. Thus, sharing the recipes you may come across in my books, and I’ve thrown in a few others you need to become acquainted with just because.

If it wasn’t fabulous, I wouldn’t put it on my website. So, trust me, try these out and use them to feed your family and friends.

And spread the love.

PS: That whole food and love and my books thing came crashing together in the Dream Bites cookbook I wrote with the fabulous home cook, Suzanne M. Johnson. You must check it out, the recipes are divine. Bonus! My half of the proceeds go to fund our Rock Chick Nation Charities! Win…win…WIN!

“Cheeseburger eggrolls,” she announced.
He looked down at her.
“Say again?” he asked.
“That’s what we’re having for dinner. Cheeseburger eggrolls. Made in the air fryer. And a quinoa salad. Brownies and ice cream for dessert.”
“Sounds awesome.”
“I use turkey meat, I shy away from beef. And we had steaks this week. I’ve met my quota.”
“Works for me.”
“First, the binder.”
He did a slow blink.
The binder?

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“You haven’t even seen my charcuterie board, babe. I got like, five kinds of cheeses and tons of different nuts and olives, and there’s some peppers, and I rolled up the meat myself. And I made cereal treats but with Fruity Pebbles and extra marshmallow, and they rock.”

That sounded amazing.

What was more amazing was the effort he put into it.

For me.

“Are you going to feed me with your fingers?” I asked.

He did a body shrug which was just a shrug, but since his body was flat out on mine, I felt it all along my length.

It felt nice.


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Jag then opened the door to his liquor cabinet.

Archie peered in and busted out laughing again.

And again, Jag grinned at her while she did it.

“Are you a mixologist?” she asked.

“No, I just never know what mood I’m gonna be in.”

She surveyed the contents of the very stocked cabinet then told it, “I’m an amateur, but I dabble in the mixological arts.” She looked up at him. “Prepared to be adventurous?”


She gave him a look that was both hot and approving before her eyes skidded through the cut potatoes he had on the baking sheets and came back to him.

“I’m on drinks,” she declared.

“Gotcha,” he replied, taking her hint, moving to the baking sheets and grabbing the olive oil. “You hungry? Or you wanna wait?” he asked to be certain.

“Hungry,” she answered.

“Cool, dinner in around twenty-five,” he muttered, and got to it with the olive oil, salt and pepper on the oven fries.

He was sliding them in when she was sliding a glass next to the stove.

“I went with a pear base,” she shared.

“Pointing out the obvious, since I had a can of juice, I dig pear,” he told her and picked up his drink.

She held hers out.

He grinned at her and clinked.

He tasted it.

She’d gone with spiced rum, some lime, a ginger ale float.

“Nice,” he said.

Her black eyes twinkled…

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