A Sweet Day Out and a unique giveaway!

Last week I had the kind visit that most of just dream about. I knew there was a chocolate factory just a few miles away in the village of Rode. Not a factory like well, you name any of those international companies that produce millions of bars of chocolate a week.

Choconchoc is the brain child of Flo and her father, Kerr. And their chocolate - the finest handmade Belgian chocolate - is not only the best you're ever likely to taste, but totally fun.

I mean, look at this! Prosecco and strawberries! And one that you all know is very dear to my heart. This new chocolate ice cream.

Flo's Dad carves the designs in his workshop. This is a sneak peek at the carving of a school satchel that he's created and which will be appearing in one of my favourite stores in a few months. That perfect "back to school" gift for a child you know. :)

This gorgeous chocolate unicorn is definitely going to be going to my unicorn-loving granddaughter very soon. And her little sister will get this adorable afternoon tea-set. Perhaps a cricket bat for my grandson. Or a pair of chocolate sports shoes. :)

Once the moulds have been carved, latex formas are created. These gingerbread men are for the Christmas market because, just like the publishing industry, they have to work months ahead. And the chocolate is pure so it has a shelf life of a year. As if you could ever keep it that long!

 Flo did give me the figures of exactly how many pieces of chocolate they will have to make before the holiday season. It was mind blowing when you consider that every piece is hand-poured, hand-finished and hand-packed. This is a place where every piece of chocolate is produced with love and I urge you to check our their website even if you are overseas, just for fun.

Now for the really good bit. Choconchoc have given me some chocolate treats that they produced especially to celebrate the launch of my new book, Her Pregnancy Bombshell.

There are two prizes -

The first is a little chocolate bookshelf. The second is a box of "love notes", each with a quote from the book.

Here's how you get your name in the draw. The bookshelf is a Facebook giveaway.  Click the link to my page, leave a comment on the #giveaway post  and I'll draw a winner on 15 May.

The love notes are something really special and will go to one of my very special newsletter subscribers. To be in the draw for this prize you have to be signed up to my newsletter - there's a link at the top of the bar.. Again the draw will take place on the 15th May, so do it now!

Finally a huge thank you to Flo and her team at Choconchoc for the very warm welcome and for donating these very special chocolate creations.

 

Easter Giveaway!

Sign up to my newsletter - there's a link on the sidebar - to be in with a chance to win this basket of Easter goodies. A huge, soft "London" scarf, a light-up bunny, Lindt chocolate eggs, a sweet notebook, a carrot full of orange jelly beans, a Rennie Mackintosh inspired bookmark, socks and three books!

I'll be drawing the winner of Saturday 26th March, so sign up now. There's the added bonus of a free book download if you do!

Marking Time with a Broken Watch by Shirley Jump

Thanks so much for having me on the blog!! I was asked recently what influenced the writing of THE SWEETHEART RULES and the entire Sweetheart Sisters series, with their meddling grannies. People have asked if I had a grandma like Greta, the bourbon-swilling, matchmaking, sassy grandma who puts my hero and heroine together in the book. My grandma wasn’t Greta exactly, but she was unforgettable, and I think her spirit is in all the grandmas I create. I wrote an essay about her years ago (that got picked up by Chicken Soup, and Woman’s World) and I thought I’d share that with you today to show you the kind of influence I had as a little girl.

MARKING TIME     

I’m late. Again. My fancy digital watch, with an alarm and two built-in time zones, is losing twenty minutes a day. I’ve made three trips to the store this week and every time, forgot to buy a new battery. A mom on a constant schedule, I need an accurate timepiece, so I grab the only other watch I own, a delicate silver one my grandmother left me when she died.

            Nana’s watch is small, with a diamond-encircled face and a sliver of a band. It’s beautiful and petite, just like she was. I’ve always loved it, but rarely wear it. It’s the old-fashioned, battery-free kind that needs winding each night. For me, a person who has trouble remembering to feed the cats, wearing a watch requiring any degree of upkeep is a bad idea.

            The first few days I wear Nana’s watch, I keep forgetting to wind it and still end up late for everything. But by week’s end, its elfin face and ticking second hand are as familiar to me as the feel of Nana’s hand in mine when I was a child.

            Wearing the watch wraps me in memories of Nana. She used to take regular walks around the yard, just to see the loganberry trees in bloom. After dinner, she and Grandpa would walk me down to the 7-11 for a packet of M&M’s. We spent countless afternoons strolling downtown, window-shopping and dreaming of things to buy and adventures we’d have someday.

            Nana appreciated the value of time. Her son, Bobby, died when he was 8 in a tragic accident that left a measure of perpetual sadness reflected in Nana’s eyes. In 1976, Nana herself slipped through Death’s grasp when she had a brain tumor removed successfully. We celebrated the bicentennial of our country that year, cheering for the woman who was still here to sing silly songs and give advice on making potato salad.

            Nana refused to waste a second of the extra time granted to her. She taught me piano, asked about every school day, and waded with me through boxes of photographs and memories, trying to imprint legacies on an eleven-year-old girl who couldn’t know then that time would ever feel short.

            She laughed, she cried, she hugged, she kissed. She lived.

            Years later, when she passed away, Nana left me the watch. In the busy-ness of my life with a husband, two kids, two cats, a dog, a job and a house, I often forget to slow down and really see the little things around me. Bread is store bought, self-scrubbing bubbles clean bathrooms, and my car is a mobile office between soccer games and Brownie troop meetings.

            When Nana’s watch stopped one day -- because I’d forgotten to wind it again -- I was lost. The children and I were shopping, on our way to an appointment that seemed important at the time.

            I stopped in the middle of Wal-Mart and looked around for a clock, muttering to myself, annoyed. The children started whining about missing some show on TV. Spying an opportunity, my son darted across the aisle to a toy and my daughter headed for some books nearby. I had melting ice cream in the cart, cranky kids and someplace I had to be. I didn’t need another frustration.

            I tapped the watch with the futile hope that it would magically start again. When I did, a flash of memory slammed into me with the force of an electrical jolt. Nana, my mother, and I were strolling in the sunshine at a sidewalk sale. We bought a book for a dime, a drink from the soda fountain, and nothing else. Twenty-five years later, I still remember it as one of the best days of my life because every moment seemed to last forever.

            I realized I’d been letting schedules and errands swallow those mini-moments in my own life, ruled by the ticking of a clock that weighed heavy on my shoulders. I abandoned the cart and joined my kids, bending down to see the toys at their level. I marveled at the latest Buzz Lightyear and a colorful new Harry Potter book cover. Hand in hand, the kids and I ambled through the aisles, poking at this toy, pushing the buttons on that one, dreaming of Santa and birthdays and days to come. We wandered by the pet department, made friends with a hamster and chatted with a parrot.

            We arrived home much later, carrying a puddle of ice cream in the grocery bag, and one new goldfish. I’d missed my appointment, but it didn’t matter. After dinner, we explored our neighborhood on foot, hunting for squirrels and rabbits in the summer evening light. We fed the ducks at the pond, soared through the air on swings and played a rousing game of tag. When we returned home, we were exhausted but laughing. And we all had another happy memory to hang onto.

That night, while I turned the tiny knob to wind Nana’s watch, I realized why my grandmother had left me this particular piece of jewelry. Her legacy wasn’t a million-dollar home on a hill or a priceless art collection. Her gift was much simpler, one we often forget in our calendar-driven lives. She gave me the gift of time, wrapped up in a watch that needs daily attention, a continuous reminder that our days pass as fast as summer storms.

In its tiny silver face, I see Nana, and in the ticking of its second hand, I hear the running journey of my life. That’s when I turn off the phone, close the calendar and take the kids outside to greet the first daffodils of spring.

            Tell me, did you have a grandma like that? A special memento she shared with you?

If you like stories like this, please check out the next book in my Sweetheart Sisters series: THE SWEETHEART RULES (warning: shameless plug to follow):

The Sweetheart Sisters are ready to give some old-school lessons in love…

Rescue Bay veterinarian Diana Tuttle is a great single mom, but she has a harder time taking care of herself. Having been burned in the past by her son’s noncommittal father, the last thing she wants is a man who isn’t in it for the long haul—until a foolish one-night stand from her past walks back into her life.

Coast Guard Lieutenant Mike Stark has never wanted to settle down. But when his ex-wife leaves their two small children on his doorstep, he is forced to become a family man in a hurry. His return to Rescue Bay, Florida and fatherhood isn’t easy, but reconnecting with Diana makes the challenge all the more worthwhile. Except becoming the long-term lover she has in mind may be one commitment too many…

Luckily, when Diana’s and Mike’s pasts begin to threaten their future, the Sweetheart Sisters have the perfect scheme to make this second chance last a lifetime.

Buy it here or in a bookstore near you! And read an awesome review here, if you’re so inclined :-)

Don’t forget to enter the giveaway! Tell me, what’s your favorite spring recipe? Anything decadent? Or do you go healthy with that eek-it’s-almost-swimsuit-season attitude?

Shirley

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Shirley Jump spends her days writing romance and women's fiction to feed her shoe addiction and avoid cleaning the toilets. She cleverly finds writing time by feeding her kids junk food, allowing them to dress in the clothes they find on the floor and encouraging the dogs to double as vacuum cleaners.

Look for her Sweet and Savory Romance series, including the USA Today bestselling book, THE BRIDE WORE CHOCOLATE, on Amazon and Nook, and the debut of her Sweetheart Club series for Berkley, starting with THE SWEETHEART BARGAIN in September 2013.

Visit her website at www.shirleyjump.com or read recipes and life adventures at www.eating-my-words.com.

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April Showers Bring Spring Flowers! by Samantha Hunter

Well, it’s still spitting snow and cold here in Syracuse, but I am dreaming of my gardens,  sorting through my seeds, and reading (and re-reading) my garden magazines, thinking about this year’s vegetables and so forth. But that’s getting ahead of the game. First, there will be the Spring flowers, and the best thing about those is that they come along on their own, with little help from me.

Tulips, Daffodils (called Jonquils in the southern US, which I didn’t know until friend Anna Adams informed me) and Hyacinths, but also Crocuses and Grape Hyacinths, and tons of ephemerals that bloom all over our yard, even in the grass, and I’m not always sure of their names. A bit later, the Irises.

It’s impossible for me to choose a favorite, I love them all, perhaps especially so after the long, stark stretch of white. Our White Star Magnolia will bloom, and that’s always a treat (and so fragrant!) though I’ll have to chase away the squirrels who rip the blossoms off and throw the petals like confetti. They also used to eat my tulips – I can’t tell you how many times I would go out to find all of my tulips, on the edge of bloom, completely beheaded! While I try not to use too many sprays or chemicals in the garden, I bought Deer-Off and now I enjoy my flowers every spring.

Which ones are you looking forward to the most? Do you have any pests that get after them, and how do you deal with them?


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Spring Memories Part 1: Down on the Farm… from Donna Alward

Spring is not my favourite season.

Late spring? Sure. In the late spring green things are sprouting, flowers are starting to bloom, days are longer, and there’s this feeling that summer is right around the corner.

But that happens closer to the May side of things, and spring “officially” starts on March 20^th or 21^st. Why don’t I like it so much? Well, it’s a bit dirty, to be honest. The snow melts, but then the ground is muddy and it smells…not so nice. Dirt tracks into the house. Even the road, when it’s dry, is a pain because it’s covered with gravel from the sand trucks going all winter. The dog tracks in with muddy feet. The trees are still gnarled and bare and the grass is brown. Sigh.

Still, I have some good memories of early spring from when I was a kid. For instance, as soon as the driveway and parking lot were clear at school, it marked the beginning of skipping season. Either singles ropes or doubles, and things really got fun when we had ropes of the same length and could get Double Dutch going. I spent a lot of noon hours skipping during elementary school.

It was also a time of year where I could earn some money. I grew up on an apple farm, and during March my dad did all the winter pruning. In the mature orchards, that meant a lot of branches on the ground, branches that had to be picked up. I spent spring Saturdays picking brush – piling it precisely in the middle of the rows between the trees, so my dad could come along after with the bush hog and grind it up. It was back breaking work, and sometimes there was still snow on the ground so feet and hands got cold and wet. But the money was worth it!

Once pruning was over, it was time to look at fertilizing. By the time I was eight, I was driving the smaller tractor we owned. My dad and our hired hand would fill buckets with fertilizer and spread it around the trees by hand while I drove the tractor with the wagon behind it. If there was a really soft spot, my dad would hop on the tractor and get me around the corner to the next row. I was so short that to push in the brake and clutch, I had to stand up off the seat. But driving the tractor was really cool and I earned some money doing that, too.

By the time the fertilizer was spread, it got more fun. My dad was the local “dealer” for fruit trees in our area, and he took orders over the winter and got the trees in May. The trees needed to be kept somewhere moist, so we also got a few loads of sawdust to keep them in. My job was to go out and water them with the garden hose until “Pick Up Day”. I knew where different varieties were, so when Pick Up Day arrived, I was out in the big metal building that was our barn, helping bundle trees together, putting a little sawdust in the empty fertilizer bags to keep the roots wet for when people took them home. I loved Pick Up Day!

It always seemed like once the trees were gone, spring was over and the real summer work began. 

Donna’s latest book is THE HOUSE ON BLACKBERRY HILL, out on April 29^th from St. Martin’s Press. You can find her at her site at www.donnaalward.com... Meanwhile she’s probably writing her next book or outside pruning and fertilizing her own apple trees. Don’t forget to enter the Chocolate Box Blog Hop contest for a great prize, including one of Donna’s latest books.

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WINDMILLS AND CHOCOLATE…

I hadn’t forgotten I was going to tell you about my holiday. Since I returned, though, I’ve been locked in the deadline cave finishing a book that was just a little bit overdue. However, SECRET BABY, SURPRISE PARENTS has now been delivered, revised and is safely in copy-editing. I do have two more books to write this year. They’re linked and I’ve spend the last week playing with plots, finding my heroines – and more importantly my heroes. Pages have already been written and as a reward I’m now here to tell you about my trip.

We began our adventure by train, first from Swansea to London where we stopped for the first night. We stayed in one of those vast brick and marble hotels in Bloomsbury and our first stop was the British Museum where we’d booked a table in the upper courtyard for lunch. The last time the dh was there, with the dd, he was mistaken for someone else (he has “poet’s hair” and these days does look like a grand old man of letters!) and whisked past the queue to a reserved table overlooking the reading room. This time he had to be contend with being Mr Liz Fielding – and the reading room was blacked out because they’re constructing the Hadrian exhibition -- but the service was wonderful and so was the food. We called in on the Mummies (what have they done with “Ginger”?) and then had a look at an exhibition of American prints.

Next morning we went to St Pancras to take the Eurostar to Lille. We went early so that we could explore this fabulous cathedral to the railway that was saved from demolition at the last moment largely thanks to Sir John Betjemen.

The trip on the Eurostar was wonderful. The service from beautifully trained young French men and women something that is only dreamed of these days on the Great Western, sigh. We drove from Lille to Bruges and then out to walk the City. It’s very old (unlike Belgium which only became a country after the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo) and very beautiful. The traffic is basically one-way, but cyclists can go where they like and everyone else had better watch out. Only the horse drawn carriages have more respect, in fact the carriage drivers have their sculpture – Zeus, Pegasus and Leda in a carriage!

Bruges is famous for two things. Chocolate and lace. We bought both – lace table clothes for the dd and d-i-l and some bits of pieces for me, but I was very restrained with the chocolate despite the constant temptations. I’m not sure how many chocolate shops there are in Bruges, but here are a few of them! I was helped by the fact that it was very warm – not chocolate weather – and the constant scent of the stuff seemed to fulfil the senses. Eating it would have been almost too much! I did have just a taste at the chocolate factory, but it really was a case of “if music be the food of love…” We walked a lot, saw a fabulous Michelangelo statue, took a carriage ride, went on the canal – in other words behaved like total tourists! We did have loads of scrumptious food, though, and the odd glass of Belgium beer. Oh, and of course chips, for which the Belgians are justly famous.


Then we took the train to Brussels and from there to Holland. Travelling by train in Europe is just so much fun. Last year we did it in Italy with our trip from Rome to Matera, this year we really extended ourselves! The service is so good, the staff incredibly helpful. (On our return from Velp, when we had to change, we received a little print out with our itinerary.)

Holland is delightful. This time we took a trip to Velp, wooded and hilly, it’s the highest point in the country, a river bus to Rotterdam and visited the fabulous windmills at Kinderdijk.





In seven days we saw not one spot of rain and scarcely any clouds and we finally flew home, totally exhausted!

PIN UPS, HEROES AND ITALY

One of my loops is attempting to compile a list of the fifty most fanciable men. I am ashamed to admit that I didn't recognise a lot of the names, but the serious drooling that was going on over Richard Armitage sent me to his web page hoping that he might just might prove a lookalike for the hero-in-progress.

He's not a match but I thought I'd post a photograph anyway. Just for you. :)



MORE ITALY

This gate is four thousand years old. It was on the dh's "most want to see" list but he wasn't sure where it was, then on a trip to Castell del Cyclope he turned around and there it was. Magic.

That's him looking v. small beneath it. And the walls, glimpsed behind, were all constructed of blocks of stone that size. Four thousand years ago. On the top of a mountain. Amazing.


This is the view from the castle. That's Arpino on the hilltop below -- we went there last year and thought that was pretty high up. It's where Marius and Cicero were born (and Cicero was murdered for those of you who watched "Rome").









And these are some olives in situ on the tree.


Travelling on the train from Rome to Bari we saw millions of olive trees. And thousands of buffalo, too. And both the Mediterranean and the Adriatic. It took five hours but I really enjoyed it. I'd have enjoyed it a lot more if I'd had a decent book.

This one offers a master-class in how not to write dialogue -- even Victorian dialogue.





AND THANK YOU

Finally a huge thank you to everyone who commented on the branding issue. I was overwhelmed by the wonderful things that you all said -- to be compared to chocolate, words fail me. Or maybe not.

"Liz Fielding -- surprisingly better than chocolate..."

It's not exactly snappy is it? I begin to see why they pay experts six figure sums to come up with this kind of slogan.