Welcome to another Foodie Friday! Today I'm happy to welcome Cristal Ryder who, in honor of her next release, Rock-Hard Heat, available August 31st, is sharing a dish with some western flair!
I’m glad Anya Richards wrangled me down for her foodie
blog. I love food – no surprise there. And keeping with the cowboy theme for my
release next week of Rock-Hard Heat, I have a kinda western dish for
you.
I started making this when my boys were young, they’re 21 and
24 now, so it's been around a long time. I never measured the ingredients so will
try and give you the amounts as best as possible. You can adjust to your own
taste.
I know there are numerous variations to this salad, but this
is the way I’ve been doing it for a while. Sometimes it doesn’t look all that
pretty, but it sure tastes great.
Taco Salad
½ - 1 lb cooked ground beef seasoned with nacho/taco
seasoning of your desired hotness – cooled and drained
Bottle ranch dressing
1 ½ - 2 cups grated cheese
1 – 2 tomatoes chopped
2 green onions chopped
½ - 1 head of lettuce, bite size pieces
Bag of nachos, crunched
Just before serving combine all ingredients except nachos.
After everything is mixed, then add crunched chips and serve. You can adjust the
amounts to suite your taste. I know some people use Caesar or French dressing
instead of ranch. But my family prefers the ranch.
Enjoy!
An Excerpt From:
ROCK-HARD HEAT
Copyright © CRISTAL
RYDER, 2012
All Rights
Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.
It had been a
glorious couple of days before Chet had to head down and get back to real life.
She smiled and enjoyed the heat that bloomed in her belly, remembering their
first lovemaking session after being apart for so many months. Desire for her
cowboy never failed to heat her blood and she longed for him now. She wanted him
with her in the soft mountain water, which caressed her skin so
seductively.
The grime and dust
of her prospecting activities at Chet’s great-great-uncle Chester’s old claim
sluiced off in the creek’s current and left her skin pink and tingly. She wasn’t
ready to get out yet and closed her eyes, drifting
lazily.
Chet couldn’t
confirm when he’d be back and Jenna had gotten used to staying here on her own
when he wasn’t with her. At first, he’d been hesitant to leave her, but she
insisted and he’d learned a while ago how stubborn she could be. So they
compromised. He made sure she was checked on daily by a ranch hand, had taught
her to shoot and left the rifle by the door. The radio was primed in case she
needed immediate help and his dog Belle stayed with her. All was good with the
world.
Letting her legs
drop, Jenna curled her toes into the creek bed and stood. The water was deep,
just covering her breasts. They bobbed at the surface, buffeted by little eddies
of current. She tipped back, ducked her head in the water and swept her long red
tresses out of her face. When she stood, it hung to her shoulders and fanned out
on the surface of the water like a halo.
A sense of
wellbeing filled her and her heart swelled with happiness. Never had such a
strong sensation of belonging, being home, been so sharply etched within her.
She knew she had been born on the wrong side of the continent. It was here she
should have grown up and experienced life, not back east. Jenna inhaled the
crisp mountain air and gazed at the bush around her. It was just as beautiful in
the summer as in the winter. Her love for this land grew daily and it truly
pained her to think of leaving it. And Chet.
She brushed the
disturbing thought aside. It was a while before she’d be packing her bags.
Jenna’s gaze took in the brand new sluice box. Chet had replaced the broken-down
one with a much more modern setup here at the creek and farther up-river where
the tree came down. Chester’s old one was being restored and eventually would be
donated to a local history museum. She was determined to find his secret claim
and Chet had humored her all the way. Jenna smiled and excitement bubbled inside
her at the news she had to tell him.
The gurgle of water
over the dam of rocks mixed delightfully with the birds singing in the trees.
Jenna was at peace. She sighed and shivered with a slight chill from the cool
mountain water. Goose bumps rose along her flesh and her nipples hardened,
aching with the cold. She cupped her breasts in her palms, the hard nubs
pressing against her flesh. This time the shiver that rippled through her wasn’t
from being chilled.
“Chet, when are you
going to get here?” she whispered to the silence of the surrounding
trees.
“What’s the matter,
darlin’? Miss me?”
Jenna spun around,
sending a splash of water in a sparkling arc. The wonderful, sexy drawl of
Chet’s voice slipped around her like hot honey and she warmed under his gaze. He
stood on the little rocky beach where they had made love on the bank of chilly
snow last winter. She couldn’t help the smile that broke wide on her face when
their eyes met.
“Chet.” His name
fell from her lips in a breathy sigh.
He had one booted
foot propped on a large rock, his elbow rested on his knee. The faded, worn
jeans tightened over his muscular thighs and Jenna’s breath snagged in her
chest. She let her gaze roam over the typical plaid cowboy shirt which also
strained across his powerful chest and shoulders. He poked his cowboy hat back
with a finger and winked at her. She knew what lay beneath those clothes and she
hungered for him. He was a feast for her eyes and she needed
feeding.
“Now then, this
sure is a sight to behold. It’s a damn good thing I decided to come myself and
not send Blake to check on you.”
“I’d say I have to
agree with that, cowboy.”
“Last time I
checked we didn’t have mermaids in these parts. Just goes to show you can learn
somethin’ new every day.” He straightened and started to unbutton his shirt.
“Want some company?”
“I thought you’d
never ask.”
Happy St. Patrick's Day to all you crazy ale-drinking devotees out there, and even to those who just don't get the allure! In my family there's a special joke about St. Patrick's Day because although my husband is obviously of mixed races, his grandmother on his father's side was 100% Irish. So when St. Paddy's Day rolls around, we're inclined to ask people if they've never heard the term, "Black Irish" and try to get them to believe he's an example of that. The best part? On occasion we've actually got some people going for a while LOL!
Since this hop is in honor of Fondled and Gobbled, Someone Had To Do It and Going Back for Seconds, I'm gonna pretend my hero, Jace, is throwing himself into the spirit of the day and heading off to the neighborhood pub for a pint of green beer with his friends. What's that Diva wearing, you ask? Well, knowing Jace, he has on kelly-green skinny jeans, a silk shirt with gold harps all over it (you didn't think he'd go for the obvious and have shamrocks, did you?), a puffy, green, goose-down jacket that matches his pants, and black riding boots (with four-inch heels, of course). He wavered between his green-rimmed glasses and the ones he's actually wearing, which are gold, wire-rims, but he didn't want to be TOO obvious. Besides, the round lens make his eyes pop...
So if you're at the bar, and you see a pretty little twink all dressed up for the night like that, don't let appearances fool you...there's a LOT more to Jace than meets the eye! Make sure to pick up a copy of Fondled and Gobbled, Someone Had To Do It and find out just what that "more" is! And comment here for a chance to win a copy of my erotic Steampunk romp, Beyond Prudence in e-format or, if you're in North America, in print.
