Thanks for hosting me, Anne.
Today, I’m going to share a recipe. My main characters, Chloe and Jorge, share a love a Scotch. My husband and I also enjoy the beverage and a general love for Scotland in general. For his birthday this year, we hosted a party with foods similar to what one would have at a Burns Night party (for more information about the yearly celebrations of Robert Burns, go here). That means we served haggis, neeps (turnips) and tatties (potatoes), and cranachan ( a dessert featuring Scotch).
2 cups heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup uncooked oats
¼ cup honey
1 lb. raspberries, fresh or thawed frozen
Toast the oats in a frying pan over medium heat, turning frequently to ensure they don’t burn. It will take 5-10 minutes to get them golden brown. Place a few whole berries and place in the bottom of each serving dish (dessert or wine glasses work well). Retain a few whole berries to garnish.
Lightly whip the cream until soft peaks form, then fold in the Scotch and honey until the mixture is soft and creamy. Fold in remaining berries. Scoop into dessert glasses and garnish with oats and raspberries.
Chill for at least three hours before serving.
* Anne steps in for a moment* I have to admit Katya I’m glad you didn’t share the haggis (ick) but the cranachan looks yummy!!! I’m going to try this one at home.
Chloe can “talk” to animals…so why can she hear the thoughts of this hot, green-eyed man?
Abandoned by her mother and raised by a father who’d given up on life, Chloe doesn’t let anyone get close. Lucky for her, she can communicate with animals—telepathically. Her long hours at the animal shelter help her cope with the stress, and the animals are the only people she needs. But when a suspected dog-fighting ring comes to her attention, Chloe decides to do a little spying. And in her rush to win the dogs’ trust, she almost gets herself caught.
Until a sexy stranger intervenes, and she finds she can overhear his thoughts. She’s never been able to hear people, and this man’s about as sexy as she’s ever seen. It’s more than intellectual curiosity that drives her to discover his secret: he’s a jaguar shape-shifter, and the presence of this cat among the dogs might be a bit too much to handle. But the animal attraction is just too hot to resist, and the passion between them makes both the sparks—and the fur—fly…
Jorge continues to say nothing, his head tilted away to avoid eye contact. I snort, but he still ignores me. I half expect him to just walk out of the room and point at the door.
The shot of whisky I downed makes my head spin a little as my blood pressure rises. I am so angry I seriously consider throwing my Dalwhinnie at his head. But I am still rational enough to withstand the temptation and instead stand abruptly and walk in the direction of the kitchen.
I see the bottle of Dalwhinnie on the counter and take it and my Glencairn glass and walk back to the living room and to the door. “Fine. I’ll leave now.”
He looks up, finally, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he sees what I’m carrying, but he still says nothing. And his face resumes its stoic expression. Bastard.
I turn and walk out, slamming the door behind me.
Goddamn men and goddamn me for stupidly letting myself get all twitterpated by this guy. I so know better than that. And I didn’t even get a kiss out of it. My pride keeps me from stomping back into the house and kissing the holy hell out of him until he has no choice but to fuck me. My anger keeps me somewhat sane as I stomp to my car and get in. I open the Dalwhinnie and carefully pour my remaining whisky back in the bottle. No sense wasting it, and if I take another shot I won’t be able to drive home. I’ve already been stupid enough for one night. A few more drinks can wait until I get home.
Satisfied I’ve gotten all the whisky from the glass, I replace the stopper, set the Dalwhinnie down and prepare to drive home. Knuckles white on the steering wheel, I fight the urge to bang my head against it. Instead, I start the car and put it in reverse. As I back out of his driveway and head out onto the quiet road, I remember why I keep my distance from people. Navigating human relationships is generally way too difficult and painful to be even remotely worth it. And no matter how much I don’t want to admit it as I drive back home, I really wanted a relationship with Jorge.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. You don’t even know this guy.
Another small voice whispers: but your heart does.
I emphatically shake my head, then crank up the radio and sing along to distract myself for the rest of the ride.
To buy To Hiss or to Kiss:
I like books that are funny and fun to read (and hot!) but also make me think or look at the world in a new way. I am influenced by magic realism, comparative mythology, and esoteric spiritual practices from around the world.
I spent too many years chasing someone else’s definition of success. My life simplified, I returned to my first love of writing.
These days you’ll find me writing, pet sitting, juggling a number of freelance gigs, and reigning as my home’s domestic goddess. I live in the Midwestern U.S. with my husband, dog and cats. Alas, I have, as of yet, been unable to teach my husband how to purr.
To connect with Katya: