From Kate Steele -- Whenever I'd go to various festivals in the area where I live, I'd search for pumpkin fudge until I decided to make my own. Guaranteed yummy!
Pumpkin Fudge
3 c. sugar
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter
2/3 c. evaporated milk
1/2 c. pumpkin
1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter
2/3 c. evaporated milk
1/2 c. pumpkin
1 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
Combine. Bring to a boil, stirring constantly. Boil 10 minutes. Remove from heat and add:
12 oz. pkg. butterscotch morsels
7 oz. marshmallow creme
1 c. walnuts
1 tsp. vanilla
7 oz. marshmallow creme
1 c. walnuts
1 tsp. vanilla
Mix well. Pour in pan. Cool and cut.
THE EXCERPT!
Remembered
terror and unparalleled pain made him tremble. His breaths became short and
fast. The sensation of being trapped assailed him and Shanrem stumbled to the
door and rushed through. He stopped short at the sight of the doctor, now
accompanied by a male with familiar golden eyes. Shanrem’s knees chose that
moment to fold, but his descent to the floor was halted by a strong and steady
grip.
“Easy
there. Let’s get you back to your bed. Do you remember me, Shanrem?”
Shanrem
muttered a soft thank you and gladly accepted the support. “Yes. Your
name is Zen.”
“That’s
right.”
Warmth
emanated from where Zen touched his arm. Shanrem took a shuddery breath and
tried to relax. It was easier than he’d anticipated. Zen’s presence and the
subtle male musk of his scent stole through Shanrem. For reasons unknown it
calmed him, easing the sensations of panic. Upon reaching the bed, Shanrem
gratefully sat and watched as his rescuer took a seat on the bed opposite his.
Zen studied him with such intensity, it made Shanrem glad he wore the soft,
loose pants in which he’d been dressed. Though the perusal was penetrating,
still Shanrem felt no threat, not as he had every day he’d been among the
Dukati.
As Doc
fussed a bit taking readings with a bioscanner, Shanrem let his gaze roam over
the man who’d spoken to him when he’d first awakened. Tall, but not quite as
tall as Doc, what Zen lacked in height he made up for in bulk. The clothes he
wore were not revealing, but they hugged his frame just enough to hint at the
hard body and sleek muscles beneath them.
His face
was a near perfect oval, with a slight squaring at the jaw line. His eyes,
under even brows, were somewhat heavy-lidded, giving him a slumberous, sensual
air. A strong nose, straight and wider than Shanrem’s, led his gaze to rest on
a pair of lips that were full enough to tempt, but not so much as to seem
pouty. They complemented his face, as did the spare stubble that dotted his
chin, jaw and upper lip.
Zen’s skin
was a medium mocha brown. What flesh was revealed by his face, the open
V’d-neckline and short sleeves of his shirt, shone with a healthy luster. Under
the surface in various places were a few faint and colorful markings, near
invisible patterns that wandered and flowed. The opened neckline of his shirt
also bared the beginnings of a silky-looking matt of hair that triggered an
unexpected flutter in Shanrem’s belly and made his fingers twitch.
During the
course of his studies, Shanrem had come across a picture of a man from Earth
whose abdomen was adorned with hair that began at his collarbone and trailed
down to and below the low-riding waistband of the pants he’d been wearing.
Males on Shanrem’s planet had very little in the way of body hair other than
some light furring around their genitals, so it had been an unexpected and
arousing sight. One that he had used many times to fuel the fantasies he’d
indulged in while bringing himself pleasure.
To see
something similar now, in person, even under these circumstances, stirred those
memories and he felt a flush heat his skin. Shanrem wasn’t sure if he should be
shocked or grateful he was still capable of sexual excitement. The Dukati male
who’d taken him as a pet had had no interest in giving Shanrem pleasure.
Shanrem was there to be used and was made aware of it every time he’d been
violated.
Shanrem
forced his gaze from that intriguing chest to the hair on Zen’s head. Long
enough to brush the collar of his shirt, varying shades of black, crimson,
chestnut, chocolate and tawny gold blended into fine, pleasing patterns among
its shining waves. Shanrem had seen little of the way his rescuer moved, but
even that small amount had left an impression. He was quick when needed,
self-assured and possessed an easy grace like that of animal. That thought
brought a realization to Shanrem which explained Zen’s coloring.
“What race
are you?” Shanrem asked.
As though
expecting the question, Zen answered without hesitation, “Half Human, half
Tulensian.”
“Mongrel.”
The warmth
in Zen’s eyes winked out and was replaced by an impenetrable calm that hid his
every emotion.