
When I look back on my books, I can often tell something about what was going on with me. When I wrote To Tame a Texas Cowboy, transporting a lot of dogs from Corsicana, Texas. (For those who don’t know, my family fosters and transports dogs for Cody’s Friends Rescue.) I say that because of my heroine, Cheyenne’s comment describing her overprotective Mom. Despite the serious nature that brought about the scene (the mother reports her missing), I had a blast writing it. Here’s an excerpt.
“I’ve got to do something about Mom. I don’t care how worried she is, when she hurts other people she’s gone too far.” Cheyenne collapsed on the couch beside Aubrey.
If this was a sample of what Cheyenne was dealing with, no wonder she was desperate to move out. If a service dog could help her with that goal, how could he refuse to help? Wasn’t easing burdens like Cheyenne’s why he’d taken up Olivia’s cause with the SeizureReader?
Dog nails scraping against the glass patio door drew Cooper’s attention. After he let the dogs in, Penny trotted over to Cheyenne and curled up by her feet.
The wild idea that sprouted last night when he saw Penny with Cheyenne expanded. The idea could work.
“We should leave. I’ve caused Cooper enough trouble, and who knows what else will happen if I stay longer,” Cheyenne said to Aubrey.
Her friend shook her head. “Girl, I slept in my clothes and the officer showing up scared me so much I’m as sweaty as a teenager sneaking into the house after curfew. No way am I crawling in the car without a shower. Cooper, mind if I use yours?”
“Go ahead. That’ll give me time to talk to Cheyenne.”
After Aubrey left, Cheyenne stared at him wide-eyed. “Why would you want to talk to me? If I were you, I’d figure out how to get a restraining order.”
He smiled at her attempt at humor as he sank into his recliner. The woman had grit. Despite everything, she hadn’t buckled. “On your mom maybe, but this wasn’t your fault.”
Fatigue and vulnerability flashed in her green eyes, overwhelming the courage and toughness he admired a minute ago. “You’re wrong. This is my fault. I didn’t rein Mom in before this happened.”
“Has your mom always been so,” he paused. Would it be completely out of line to call her mom a nut case?
“Go ahead and say it. Crazy, wacko. Nuttier than a Collin Street Bakery fruitcake. Take your pick.”
He chuckled at her plain speaking. “I was trying to find a better way to phrase it.”
“That’s sweet, but unnecessary.” Cheyenne sighed. “She wasn’t as bad when my dad was alive.”
“You don’t have to talk about this.”
She shrugged. “You’ve seen my dirtiest laundry. Might as well know how it got so bad. My dad died in a freak rodeo accident when I was fifteen. A bull threw him and before the rodeo clowns got there, the bull stepped on his—” She shuddered, and horror flashed across her face. “There was nothing anyone could do. He was gone.”
“Saying I’m sorry is inadequate, but I am sorry.”
Cheyenne picked at the couch cushion. “That’s what started Mom’s overprotectiveness. Most people think things like that won’t happen to them or someone they love, but she knows they do. My diagnosis has dredged up that pain, along with her fear, and helplessness. She’s doing the only thing she can think of, trying to control everything, but she can’t fix this for me.”

I know a lot of folks outside of Texas won’t get Cheyenne’s comment “nuttier than a Collin Street Bakery fruitcake” but I had a good laugh writing with it. Her comment refers to the Collin Street Bakery in Corsicana, Texas, famous for the fruitcake it’s made for over 125 years. I can see the looks of disbelief on your faces now. Hey, I’ve heard all the fruitcake jokes that abound this time of year, but the Collin Street Bakery’s been featured on a popular shows like Good Morning America.
I thought the same thing the first time I went to Corsicana to transport a dog. But when I saw the Collin Street Bakery on my way to the city shelter, I had to stop. After that, every time I drove to Corsicana, I stopped at the bakery first. I would get a cherry turnover to devour on the way home, peanut brittle for my hubby, cupcakes, and a sample of their fruitcake, which is by the way, pretty good.
While we don’t buy fruitcakes, every year at the holidays, my husband craves our family’s version which is more like a pound cake. It’s so good that if I don’t have time to bake it, he does! Today I’m sharing that recipe with you.
Philly Christmas Cake
Ingredients:
1 8 oz Philadelphia Cream Cheese
1 1/2 C sugar
1 C butter
1 1/2 tsp vanilla
4 eggs
2 1/4 cup flour
1 1/2 tsp baking powder
3/4 C each of candied red, green cherries, and pineapple
1 C chopped walnuts or pecans
Directions:
Place 1/4 C chopped walnuts in each of two loaf pans. Place 1/4 C of the flour in a small bowl. Add cut candied fruit and remaining nuts. Mix and set aside.
Cream softened cream cheese, sugar, butter and vanilla until combined well. Add eggs one a time. Mix until incorporated. Add remaining flour (2C) and baking powder. Combine. Add remaining walnuts (1/2) and candied (now floured) fruit. Mix. Pour into loaf pans. Bake at 325 degrees for 1 hour 20 min.

Giveaway–Today I have two holiday T-shirts to give away. Each one comes with a signed copy of To Tame A Texas Cowboy. To be entered in the giveaways, leave me a comment on your thoughts regarding fruitcake.

Ingredients
To celebrate, I’m keeping this really short and giving away a signed copy of my soon to be released novel











Howdy!
Steps for making easy catsup:
Recipe for making easy spaghetti sauce for meatballs or meat sauce from home-grown tomatoes:
I don’t know about you, but I love a good old-fashioned treat. Give me an icebox cake or a gorgeous loaf of sourdough any day of the week. Sometimes, if I have a minute to myself to enjoy it with a cup of coffee before my children wake up, I’ll imagine what it must have been like for my great grandmother and the women who went before her. Did they have the same concerns I do? Did they relish the quiet before the chaos too?
Show of hands – who started making bread during the pandemic? It’s all right, I see you. Unfortunately, many have abandoned their starters in exchange for something a little easier. This wouldn’t be a problem except that sourdough in and of itself is an experience that should not be missed.
My mom talks about how delicious my great-grandmother’s lemon icebox cake was. I’m sure that’s true, but I have to admit I’m partial to a delicious chocolate cookie sandwich with cream in the middle. Icebox cakes became popular in the 1920’s, and were more or less a descendant of trifles and similar layered desserts.
Did you know that the earliest renditions of ice cream date back thousands of years? Granted, the versions they enjoyed weren’t the sweet, creamy goodness we enjoy today. Those are a bit more modern but still something 18th century Americans would’ve enjoyed. Still, while homemade ice cream is infinitely worth the trouble, it does take a bit of work and some bulky equipment.






To be entered in my random giveaway for the Hanging With My Peeps T-shirt and a signed copy of Family Ties leave a comment about your favorite Jell-O recipe or the oddest one someone you know has made.