Showing posts with label Bev Irwin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bev Irwin. Show all posts

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Ghostly Justice - Bev Irwin

Golden Peach Pork Chops Recipe
(Bev's favorite Slow Cooker Dish)

1 can (29 ounces) peach halves
5 bone-in pork loin chops (1 inch thick)
1 tablespoon canola oil
Salt and pepper to taste
1/4 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
1 can (8 ounces) tomato sauce
1/4 cup cider vinegar

Drain peaches, reserving 1/4 cup juice (discard remaining juice or save for another use); set fruit and juice aside. In a large skillet, brown pork chops on both sides in oil; transfer to a 3-qt. slow cooker. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

In a small bowl, combine the brown sugar, cinnamon and cloves. Add the tomato sauce, vinegar and reserved peach juice. Pour over the chops. Arrange peach halves over the top. Cover and cook on low for 6-8 hours or until the meat is tender.

Ghostly Justice - Review by Martha A. Cheves, Author of Stir, Laugh, Repeat; Think With Your Taste Buds; A Book and A Dish

***I watched until they turned the corner at Colburn Street.  Then the energy vanished and a profound sadness filled me.  Even playing the piano held no joy that day.  I have to talk to her.  But how?  I gave up trying to contact the living years ago.  It became so tiresome – appearing in front of them, touching them, talking to them, yet never being noticed.  Until now.  Every day, I watch for her.  Every day, I try to make contact.  Every day I plead for her to look up at my window again.  Two weeks have passed now.  And every day, she hurries past; her gaze focused on the street ahead.  I must talk to her.  Daira is the first person I’ve been able to communicate with since the day I was murdered.***

Daria Brennan is your typical 15 year-old, or at least she thought she was until she discovered that she could see ghosts.  Her first sighting was of a young woman in the upstairs window of an old house she passed every day going to school.  At first she thought it might be her imagination since the house was empty.  The woman who lived there had fallen and been taken away to recuperate in a rehab center.  Maybe someone had broken into the house.  Whatever it was she knew that every time she walked past the house she felt a chill.. [1]  Then came the voices.  Someone calling her name when there was no one there.  This became more frequent after she and some friends broke into the house to have a place to be together. 

As the visits to the house grew more frequent, so did the voice in her head begging for her help.  The ghost she was seeing and talking to turned out to be Amanda the daughter of the old lady who owned the house.  She had died 40 years earlier and Amanda needed Daria’s help t her remember how and why.  As Daria researched Amanda’s death she found that the police had ruled it as a suicide.  But as Amanda’s memory started coming back she knew it wasn’t suicide but murder. Daria was the only one to help her prove it and to help her put the person responsible away.

Ghostly Justice was a really enjoyable mystery.  I had no problem coming up with who murdered Amanda but I had a problem guessing how he would be caught.  I also had a problem guessing why Daria and Amanda looked so much alike.  Daria was born 40 years after Amanda’s death but their birthdays were the same month and day.  Had to be a connection but what?  I really enjoyed this book and there are a couple cuss words, not really bad ones, but I can see this being an enjoyable read for ages teen to 90.  I loved it and hope to hear there will be other chapters in Daria’s life that will be put to words.

Saturday, May 11, 2013

Missing Clayton - Bev Irwin, Author

Lemon Cranberry Tea Cookies
(A Bev favorite)


  1. 2 lemons
  2. ¼ cup (50 mL) granulated sugar

Cookie Batter

  1. 1 cup (250 mL) all-purpose flour
  2. ¼ cup (50 mL) whole wheat flour
  3. 1 tsp. (5 mL) ground nutmeg
  4. ¼ tsp. (1 mL) each salt and baking soda
  5. 5 tbsp. (75 mL) margarine
  6. ½ cup (125 mL) granulated sugar
  7. 1 egg white
  8. 3 tbsp. (45 mL) plain yogurt
  9. 1 tsp. (5 mL) vanilla
  10. 3 tbsp. (45 mL) dried cranberries


Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C). Line 1 or 2 baking sheets with parchment paper. Finely grate peel from 1 lemon and set aside. Squeeze juice from 2 lemons. You should have about ½ cup (125 mL) of juice. Place juice in a small saucepan and boil until reduced by half. Stir in ¼ cup (50 mL) sugar until dissolved.

In a small bowl, stir flours with nutmeg, salt and baking soda. In a medium bowl, beat margarine with remaining ½ cup (125 mL) sugar and lemon peel until combined. Beat in egg white, yogurt and vanilla (it may appear curdled). Stir in flour mixture just until combined.

Roll dough into 1-inch (2.5 cm) balls and set about 2-inches (5 cm) apart on a baking sheet. Press gently, flattening slightly to form a cookie. Press a cranberry in the centre of each.

Bake, one baking sheet at a time, in centre of the preheated oven until the bottom is golden brown for 7-9 minutes. Place cookies on a rack set over a baking sheet. When cookies are cool enough to handle, dip tops into lemon glaze. When glaze looks dry, re-dip. 

Missing Clayton – Review by Martha A. Cheves, Author of Stir, Laugh, Repeat; Think With Your Taste Buds; A Book and A Dish

Clayton awoke to shivers running up and down his body.  The blanket had slipped while he slept, and now, only partially covered him.  The short-sleeved puppy-dog T-shirt he wore left his arms exposed and goose bumps covered the bare area.  He reached out a hand and grasped an edge of the blanket.  It was threadbare; several small holes scattered across its length.  The blanket gave him little warmth in the dampness of the dirt hole.  He pulled the blanket up to his chin and curled himself into a tight ball.  Shivers traveled along his arms and legs.  His body felt like a block of ice, and his forehead felt hot, so hot.

He wanted to go home.  He wanted to be in his own soft bed with his mother tucking the blankets around him, blankets that were thick and warm and had no holes in them.  He wanted his mother hugging him.  More shivers.  Grabbing the edge of the blanket, he tucked it around his limbs.  He shut his eyes.  He wanted to keep them closed.  He tried to go back to sleep.  At least then he didn’t have to think about anything.  He didn’t have to think about why he was here.

What did I do?  Did I do something bad?  Why won’t Mommy come and get me?  Why is she leaving me here?  Why?  Mommy, please come.  I want to go home.

Five-year-old Clayton Kingsley and his mother Jenny have moved to a new home.  Jenny left her abusive husband and obsessive mother and took Clayton to a serene bedroom community that she thought would be the perfect place to raise her son.  At least that was until the day Clayton came up missing.  She had only left him for 5 minutes to go inside and make peanut butter sandwiches for lunch.  Jenny searched every place a child could hide and still no Clayton.  He neighbor Steve took up the hunt but still had no luck finding the child.  Who could have taken him that quickly and left no trace, no clues?

Tyrell was a loner who lived in what could only be described as a shack in the woods.  After high school he had joined the army and served his time but before he left he had met Patty.  They married and had a child and what Tyrell thought would be a happy marriage.  But when he came home after being wounded everything had changed.  Patty had changed.  She was no longer the quiet, mousey girl he had married.  She kept her hair bleached and when she saw the limp from his war injuries, she called him names.  Eventually she took their son and left.  Could he be the one who took Clayton?

Steve the next door neighbor had a police record.  He had helped his friend kidnap the friend’s newborn child when the mother planned to give it up for adoption.  The child’s mother went to one of the police deputies to report the missing child and Steve’s friend ended up being beaten pretty badly and eventually dying.  The deputy who came after the baby later accused Steve of possibly kidnapping another child that came up missing.  And now Clayton is missing.  Coincident?  Could Steve be the one who took Clayton?  He lived close enough to snatch him quickly and without being caught.

Missing Clayton kept me wanting more.  The suspense kept me on the edge in hopes that Jenny would find her child before it was too late.  And when she was taken to the morgue to identify a child's body, it had me holding my breath.  This is an experience that has to be one of the hardest things a parent can do and go through.


Saturday, March 30, 2013

Without Consent - Bev Irwin

Maple Oatmeal Hazelnut Shortbread
(A Bev Irwin specialty)
3/4 cup hazelnuts
1 cup butter, softened
1/4 cup packed SPLENDA brand brown sugar blend
2 tbsp maple syrup
1/2 tsp maple extract
1 1/2 cups quick-cooking (not instant) rolled oats
1 cup all-purpose flour
In food processor, finely grind hazelnuts, set aside.
In large bowl, beat butter with SPLENDA until light, beat in maple syrup
And maple extract. Stir in oats and flour. Roll into balls using 1 tbsp dough per ball. Roll in nuts to coat. Flatten slightly, place about 1 inch apart on baking sheets. Refrigerate for 30 minutes or until chilled.
Bake in 350 degree oven for about 10 min or until puffed and set. Let cool for 1 minute. Transfer to racks, let cool completely. Makes about 36 cookies.
Without Consent – Review by Martha A. Cheves, Author of Stir, Laugh, Repeat; Think With Your Taste Buds; A Book and A Dish
He probed for the next vessel, clamping and cutting in a similar fashion. The cavity brimmed with blood and he couldn’t see. But now, it didn’t matter. He had what he wanted. He lifted his hand. He felt resistance. A Tiny tenuous cord stretched out of the wound. Another vein. Grasping the scalpel, he carved through the connecting tissue and the organ came free. For several seconds he nestled the coveted organ as if holding a newborn robin in the palm of his hand. Its warmth seeped through his latex gloves. Below his hand, blood surged into the gaping wound. He shot a glance at the woman’s face. Mary Jane, her driver’s license said. How plane. He’d call her Gabrielle. Yes, she was more beautiful than a Mary Jane.
Dr. Claire Valincourt, works the ER at Grace Memorial Hospital. In her worse dreams she never expected to find what she found while jogging to work one evening. A foot, sticking out of the bushes. It was pale and white and Claire sound found, it was attached to a body. A dead body that looked as though it might be a patient that had for some reason left the hospital after having surgery. There was definitely an incision going down the woman’s stomach and the incision had been stitched back together. But why was she in the park and not still in her hospital bed. That’s a question that the police will have to answer.
Detective Gerry Rosko got the call that there was a body found in the park. What he never expected to find was that the woman didn’t just have surgery within the hospital but somewhere unknown. He learned after the autopsy that the sloppy job of her surgery had allowed her to bleed out and she was missing a kidney. Pressure on him was to find the killer but that pressure was increased tenfold when another victim was found in yet another park. As with the first victim, this one had bled out and was also missing a kidney.
Without Consent had me looking over my shoulder as I walked my dog at night. The tension this book puts out as Rosko tries to find a serial killer before he strikes again had me just about biting my nails. Then when it looks like he may go after Claire I was really on the edge of my seat. This is a good one for Criminal Minds to pick up. It’s believable and will scare the heck out of you for at least a few days.

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