She whispered a silent prayer of thanks as she kissed him back with all of the love in her heart.
A taste of home-cooking from Apple Grove!
Grandma McCormack’s
Cream Scones
4 tablespoons unsalted butter (1/2 stick)
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour (Hecker’s unbleached)
1/4 teaspoon salt
5 1/2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
2 eggs
1/3 cup heavy cream
Using a pastry blender, cut the butter into the flour and salt. Mix until mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Add the sugar, baking soda, and cream of tartar. Mix well.
Beat the eggs with the cream and add to flour mixture, using a wooden spoon to make a spongy mixture. Place the dough on a well-floured bread board or countertop and pat to ½ inch thickness. Cut the dough into rounds with a biscuit cutter (or large cookie cutter). Flour your hands and place the cut out scones on a nonstick cookie sheet; leave for ten minutes to settle.
Bake in preheated oven at 450 degrees for eight minutes, or until golden brown.
Serve with jam, preserves, or whipped (or clotted) cream.
© 2002 C.H. Admirand
Acknowledgments
A special thank-you to Kim Rocha for dropping everything to read AWIAG. You were right; Jimmy did need to meet Dan and fight over Meg! You are THE BEST!
When Deb asked if I would be interested in writing a small-town USA series, I jumped at the opportunity to spread my writing wings. I missed writing about the small towns in my Irish Western series and welcomed the chance to recreate a part of my past and who I am in a contemporary setting.
Growing up on Cedar Hill—a tiny corner of Wayne, New Jersey—our neighborhood was like living in a small town. There were twenty-five homes in our little hamlet of dead-end streets. Unless you lived off Circle Drive, there wasn’t any reason to go to Cedar Hill. Tucked away from the rest of the world, we lived in idyllic surroundings—we could run or ride our bikes to our friend’s house and still hear when mom rang the dinner bell—a cowbell my dad found when he was a kid living in Colorado, not to be mistaken from the ship’s bell suspended between two trees that called our neighbor home—his dad had been in the navy.
My great-aunt and uncle lived right next door and my great-aunt always kept molasses windmill-shaped cookies with the almonds on top in the cookie jar on the end of the counter, right inside the back door. It was always full. She read pirate stories and poems to us on their screen porch on summer nights. I remember waking up to the sound of my great-uncle whistling—he had this six-note call that I’d hear in my sleep. I’d climb out of bed and get dressed but was young enough that I couldn’t tie my red plaid sneakers, but I’d put them on—careful not to trip on the stairs, knowing that he’d be waiting to tie them for me.
My grandparents were two houses away, which made it seem like we had three homes instead of just one. My grandmother was a cheese and crackers grandma… not the typical milk and cookies kind. I’d run up to her house after my homework was done and set their dinner table, nibble on crackers and cheese, watching Merv Griffin or Mike Douglas and the four thirty movie before it was time to go home and set our table and help get dinner ready.
For the last thirty years, we’ve lived in a small lake community. My husband grew up in one, and from the stories of his childhood, I knew that was the atmosphere we wanted for our kids. It was a mixed community with residents who’d lived there for forty years and those of us who’d just moved in. Five of us were pregnant at the same time and forged a bond that carried over to our kids. They played together, attended preschool together, and graduated from high school together.
One element of both neighborhoods was the core group of women responsible for keeping tabs on everyone and making sure to spread the word, both good and bad; it was like having a town crier.
On Cedar Hill, it was my grandmother, my great-aunt, and both Mrs. Johnsons who kept everyone abreast of the neighborhood goings-on. In Lindy’s Lake, it was Honey Baker, Marty Walsh, Ann Ahrens, and Millie Salisbury.
In the fictionalized town of Apple Grove, Ohio, it is Mrs. Winter, Miss Philo, and Honey B. Harrington who are the glue that keeps the town together and in the know.
So brew a cup of tea or grab a cup of coffee, put your feet up and relax, and spend some time getting to know the good people of Apple Grove.
About the Author
C.H. Admirand is an award-winning, multipublished author with novels in mass-market paperback, hardcover, trade paperback, magazine, e-book, and coming soon digital comic and audio book format.
Fate, destiny, and love at first sight will always play a large part in C.H.’s stories because they played a major role in her life. When she saw her husband for the first time, she knew he was the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with. Each and every hero C.H. writes about has a few of Dave’s best qualities: his honesty, his integrity, his compassion for those in need, and his killer broad shoulders. She lives with her husband and two of their grown children in the wilds of northern New Jersey and recently welcomed their first grandbaby into the family.
C.H. always uses family names in her books, but this time something truly karmic occurred while she was writing the first book in her new small-town USA series; while tracing her Irish ancestors, she uncovered something wonderful—her great-grandfather was already listed on Ancestry.com with the same picture that sits on her mantelpiece. She had discovered a link to the Mulcahy side of the family; her grandfather’s younger sister married a Mulcahy. After sending an email, she was delighted when she received a reply, and even more so when she learned that her connection and her sisters were delighted to be heroines in C.H.’s new series.
She loves to hear from readers! Stop by her website at www.chadmirand.com to catch up on the latest news, excerpts, reviews, blog posts, and links to Facebook and Twitter.
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