J.Q. ROSE--COOKING OR WRITING

Howdy J.Q. So nice to have you back. Doesn't that cupcake look good? Fits in with your blog today.
Let's put some posies underneath to
make it feel like it's still the same flowers blog.

Thanks so much, Lorrie, for hosting me today. I love the interaction you always have with your guests and readers. I hope visitors will feel free to leave comments, questions, waves, or just say hi when they stop in.  Lorrie will draw a winner from all the commenters to receive a copy of my latest mystery, Coda to Murder. Good luck!

 

Ha, don't pin this on me. I'll put the names in a hat and pull one for the free copy of your book. Yep, good luck all.

 Now tell us about this cooking or writing.

A few months ago we rented the movie, Julie and Julia, to pass a rainy evening. I had no idea the topic wasn’t about cooking, but instead the writing life and well, life in general. Julia Child was a famous cook on TV before there ever was a Food Network. She wrote the cookbook, Mastering the Art of French Cooking, back in the ’50′s published by Knopf, still in print and selling.

 

 

 

Julie is Julie Powell, a frustrated writer, who loves cooking. She decides to blog about her goal to prepare all 524 recipes in Julia’s book in 365 days. The stories run parallel to Julia Child working on her cook book and trying to find a publisher and Julie preparing the recipes and then blogging about the results, as well as letting readers in on her life. I loved the comparisons of writing a book in the ’50′s to blogging in the 21st century such as typewriter vs laptop, those dreadful sheets put between paper to make a copy as you type on the typewriter vs copy machines, sending off the manuscript in a huge box through the mail vs. emailing files to the publisher. Ah, the good ole days.

 

The women’s lives were similar in many ways even though separated by 40 years of time. They both went through the trials and tribulations of the writing life.  Julia with her cookbook and Julie with her blog.

 The movie was cleverly presented allowing smooth transitions from one woman’s story to the other. I giggled at the simple sight gags. Meryl Streep’s acting was right on and made me believe she truly was Julia, not Meryl. It was fun to watch and a great reminder that the more things change, the more they stay the same. (I know that is another cliche, but really, people, how can you say it any better than that?)

 

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That does look like a cute movie. I couldn't pass up that picture with Streep holding the chicken. lol. Ahem. Now, let's get to your book.

BACK COVER

Pastor Christine Hobbs has been in the pulpit business for over five years. She never imagined herself caring for a flock that includes a pig, a kangaroo, and a murderer. 

 

Detective Cole Stephens doesn't want the pretty pastor to get away with murdering the church music director. His investigative methods infuriate Christine as much as his deep brown eyes attract her.

 

Can they find the real killer and build a loving relationship based on trust?

 

EXCERPT:

Chapter One

          “Wilma, quick shut the door. We don’t want her escaping from the bedroom.” Pastor Christine Hobbs said in a hushed voice. She pressed her fingers to her lips to signal Wilma to keep quiet while she surveyed the spacious room.        The bent old lady slammed the wooden door shut with a force that almost knocked the door off its hinges. The fugitive was certainly aware of their presence now.  The pastor shrugged her shoulders.

          “I’m going to check under the bed,” she said. She heard the faint ringing of the cell phone in her bag in the living room; however, she was in no position to answer it now. Pulling up the heavy dust ruffle, Christine shined the flashlight under the antique four-poster bed while Wilma wielded the straw broom and waited.

            Christine tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear and dived under the bed. As she inched her way along the hardwood floor, dust bunnies and dried bits of food and dirt clung to her black suit coat and slacks. She headed in the direction of the low growling sound.

          She had confronted many circumstances not formally taught to young seminarians with stars in their eyes. Today was a prime example. She dared anyone to find a chapter in the textbook detailing guidelines for catching a cat.  In the past five years in the pulpit business, she had faced many realities requiring quick thinking and creativity, and the thirty-two-year-old pastor knew there would be many more in the future.

          Christine had promised dear Mrs. Whitcomb she would find a home for her pet cat, Bitsy, when Mrs. W. went home to be with the Lord.  Now she was delivering on her promise, maybe, if she could just catch the dang cat!  She and Mrs. Whitcomb’s frail sister, Wilma, had chased the speedy creature through several rooms in the old Victorian house, but the nimble black and gray striped cat continued to evade the two women.

          This time, she knew she had Bitsy cornered under the bed and hoped she could depend on her partner in the chase to brandish the broom to keep the feisty feline from darting out and away again. What was she thinking?  The speed of the old woman could never match the agility of this swift cat.

          When the flashlight beamed across the cat’s glowing eyes, a cold chill ran down Christine’s back. Those eyes were terrifying.

          “Okay, Bitsy.”  She talked softly to the frightened animal.  “Please come to me.  I’m going to take you home and find someone to take care of you and love you.”  She stopped and listened.  The growling was much louder. She was close to the cat. Christine slowly inched forward and brought her fingers to Bitsy so she could sniff her hand.  “That’s a good kitty.  You know me from all the times I visited your mistress, don’t you?”

          Quick as a flash of lightning, Christine grabbed the surprised pet behind her neck and hung on.  Growls turned into yowling as the she scrambled out from under the bed, dragging the struggling cat, dirt, and dust bunnies with her.    She sat on the floor talking quietly, soothing Bitsy. After the fierce feline calmed, Christine stood near the bed. 

          “Oh, my. Oh, my,” was all Wilma could say when she saw the cat safely in Christine’s arms.  She unclenched the straw broom and propped it against the wall then shuffled over to pat the cat’s head.  “You’ll be okay, Bitsy, with Pastor Christine.  She’ll take good care of you.”

          “Oh, yes, I will, only till I can find Bitsy a nice home like I told your sister.”  Christine smiled at the sweet lady.  She freed one hand to brush off the dirt and dust, and now cat hair, on her suit but stopped when Bitsy began struggling to get down. 

          Christine hurried to retrieve the cat carrier by the kitchen door. Before the cat had a chance to jump away to hide, she gently, yet firmly, shoved the cat into the carrier and latched the door. The yowling cat’s protest turned into guttural growls as she settled into the corner of the cage, tail lashing wildly.

          “Thanks for your help, Wilma.”  The eighty-year-old woman was not exactly adept at catching kitties; still, she did offer a lot of moral support.

          “Oh, you’re welcome.  I’ll miss her…”  Wilma's voice choked.

          Christine waited for the woman to compose herself.

           “I miss my sister, Pastor. We spent many years together in this house.” She pulled a delicate linen handkerchief out of her apron pocket and dabbed at her eyes.

          Everything would change now for Wilma.  She had lost her sister, her pet, her home.  She was moving into an assisted living home at the end of the week.  Tomorrow folks from the church would begin packing up everything Wilma wanted to take with her. The remainder of her possessions collected over her lifetime would be boxed and donated to the Goodwill.  The members wanted to help move her because there was no family to help Wilma, only the church family. She was counting on all of them to help her settle into her new surroundings.

          The pastor reached out and hugged the frail woman. “Yes, we will all miss her.”  Christine picked up the cat carrier. “Well I’d better get Miss Bitsy back to my house and get her situated.  I loaded her litter box, bowl, and food in my car. Thanks for helping me.” She touched Wilma’s shoulder. “You get some rest now. God bless you.”

* * * *

          On the way back to her home with Bitsy in the car, Christine spotted a police car and ambulance in the church parking lot. She yanked the vehicle’s steering wheel, making a sharp turn into the lot across the street from her home in the church parsonage. Her mind raced. What could be the emergency? She dashed from her car and sprinted up the steps of the old brown brick church two at a time.

          “Oh, Christine, I was just trying to call you again,” her secretary, Ella, said.

          “I’m glad to see you’re okay. What’s happened?”

          Ella replaced the receiver on the hook. “Dutch found William in the basement.  He must have fallen down the steps.  We called 9-1-1.”

          Christine breathed a quick prayer as she rushed down the hallway. Ella followed, but it was impossible for her secretary to keep up with her long strides. As she approached the doorway leading to the church basement, a police officer held his palm out to prevent Christine from going downstairs. 

          “Stop there, ma’am.”    

          “I’m the pastor of this church.  I need to see William, our music director.  I understand he fell down these stairs.”  Standing taller, she glared at the officer challenging him to let her pass.

            “I’m sorry, Pastor. No one is allowed down there.” 

          She tried to discover a way past the officer when he blocked the doorway with his round body.

          She heard Ella and a few church members who had gathered in the hallway loudly insist the officer allow the pastor to be with William.

          “What’s going on up there, Mike?” A gruff voice from the basement yelled up the stairs.

          “The pastor wants to come down there, Sir. She is adamant she needs to be with the fallen man.”

          “Send her down.”

          Christine bounded down the wooden stairs, made the turn on the platform, then gasped as she glimpsed the contorted body of the music director at the bottom of the steps.  Her stomach lurched when she saw dried blood from a head wound caked on the floor. She grabbed the railing to steady herself noticing two EMTs standing by doing nothing. She felt her face flush with anger.

           The medical examiner investigator motioned to her to stop on the flight of stairs.  “Sorry, ma’am.  Don’t come any farther.  This is a crime scene.  This man is dead.”

 

  BUY LINKS:

 

Now available at MuseItUp Publishing- http://tinyurl.com/anax9x7

Amazon.com http://tinyurl.com/ap376tb

bn.com and major online booksellers.

 

 

 

BIO- After writing feature articles in magazines, newspapers, and online magazines for over fifteen years, J.Q. Rose entered the world of fiction writing with her first published novella, Sunshine Boulevard, released by MuseItUp Publishing in 2011. Her latest mystery, Coda to Murder, was released in February. Blogging, photography, Pegs and Jokers board games, and travel are the things that keep her out of trouble. Spending winters in Florida with her husband allows Janet the opportunity to enjoy the life of a snowbird. Summer finds her camping and hunting toads, frogs, and salamanders with her four grandsons and granddaughter.

 

 

Connect with J.Q. Rose online at

J.Q. Rose blog http://www.jqrose.com/

Girls Succeed blog http://girlssucceed.blogspot.com/

Facebook http://facebook.com/jqroseauthor

J. Q.  Rose Amazon Author Page http://tinyurl.com/aeuv4m4

Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/jqrose

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/janetglaser/

 

You Tube Book Trailer-- http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X9FONg4mJ9g&feature=youtube_gdata

How many remember Julia Child? How many have seen her cookbook?
I remember my mother having it. Hmm. Maybe it's still around the house.
In todays world of TV, printed cookbooks and online recipes, is it fair to ask who your favorite is?

And your Coda to Murder looks like a fun cozy read, J.Q.

Leave a comment for J.Q. below, folks. You may be the lucky winner.