Recipe and Book with Nancy Raven Smith #dipsandchips #mystery #traveltoSumatra #RLFBlog

 

Recipe and Book with

Nancy Raven Smith

Cooking is not Lexi’s thing, especially as she hates knives. Her definition of a home cooked meal is reheating take out in her micro. Yet, like most of us, she does enjoy eating and she would like to share her favorite dip that her mother makes especially for her whenever she visits.

BLUE CHEESE DIP

Ingredients:
-1 Pkg Philadelphia Original Cream Cheese - 8 oz (reduced fat and non-fat cream cheese   don’t work.)
-1 Pkg Blue cheese crumbles (use 3/4 of the pkg – you can use the remainder of the blue  cheese to top a fresh green salad)
-5 Tablespoons of milk (all kinds of milk work – from non-fat to cream)
-1 Tablespoon grated onion (can be added or left out) Lexi prefers it in.
-1/2 Teaspoon of Worcestershire sauce

To Prepare:
-Breakup the cream cheese block for easier mixing.
-Add the rest of the ingredients and mix at high speed until ingredients thicken to a desired consistency. It should be thicker than most dips. Serve with vegetables, thick chips, or crackers.
-Let refrigerate for at least 2 hours before serving. Can be made the day before desired use and stored in the refrigerator.

 Makes 2 plus cups/16 oz.

Lexi Winslow is a fraud investigator at a private Beverly Hills bank. As a favor to her boss, she's sent to fetch home the daughter of the bank's biggest client. So Lexi's off to Sumatra where the wayward daughter and her latest boyfriend were last seen. She has the added complication of having to take the boss' inexperienced son along for training.

Once she arrives at an isolated resort carved out of the remote Sumatran jungle, Lexi discovers there are more deadly dangers inside the hotel than the crocodiles and head hunters outside. It is a hotel where women check in, but most don't check out.

And of all the places in the world, she runs into her ex-lover, who not only conned his way into her heart, but is always conning someone somewhere. Lexi is determined to find out what is going on and to get everyone out alive.

We emerge from the airport in Sumatra onto the sidewalk and are assailed with a one-two punch. First our bodies hit a wall of heat and unbearable humidity. Second, our ears ring from an overwhelming cacophony of noise. Suddenly we’re surrounded by porters in yellow jumpsuits. All vying for our business. I wave them away.

The sidewalk is packed with people, and the dense street traffic is a sea of vehicles. Minibuses, cabs, bicycles, cars, and becaks, the Indonesian version of tricycle pedicabs. There’s even a horse cart or two, but nothing we can identify as our hotel transportation.

“Check that way. Someone should be here from the hotel,” I tell Steve.

I go to the right and am immediately swallowed by the surging crowd. After a minute, I turn back to see if Steve’s having better luck in his direction.

I manage to catch glimpses of him in the distance. He’s put his bright red bags down to wipe the sweat from his forehead. Bad move. His eyes and hands aren’t on his luggage.

I spot the pretty, young woman who’s somehow connected to the beggar I saw inside the airport. She steps out of the crowd behind Steve and deliberately bumps into him, spilling her coffee down his shirt. Alarmed, I race in his direction.

“Oh, Monsieur. Pardonez moi. I am so sorry,” the woman says to Steve.

He’s fascinated as her flitting fingers move around his jacket, trying to mop up the mess with her lacy handkerchief.

“Please. It’s nothing.”

“You are so kind. Allow me. I am so clumsy.”

“Really, it’s—”

“It was so bad of me. Your poor coat is ruined. It was all my fault. Please, tell me that you forgive me.”

“I can have it cleaned.” Steve catches sight of the beggar’s back as he races away with his red luggage.

“Hey, you. Stop. Stop thief!”

The beggar only runs faster, weaving in and out of the crowds on the sidewalk.

Steve sprints after him, but the beggar has too big a lead. He pulls away, heading straight toward me.

When the beggar comes close I stick my foot out. He trips end-over-end and drops Steve’s bags. I’m reaching for his collar when someone collides with me from behind. We both go down on the pavement, and I lose my grip.

I turn to confront my attacker.

It’s Steve.

I turn back to the beggar. Too late. The beggar scrambles to his feet, grabs the closest of Steve’s bags, and disappears into the crowd.

Steve apologizes, “I couldn’t stop in time,”

“I hope your mother packed your clean underwear in the other bag.”

Steve ignores me. “I was talking to this French woman—”

I point to the spot on his coat. “Yes, I saw. The one who spilled the drink on you.”

“It was an accident.”

“No, it wasn’t.” You were tag-teamed. She distracted you, he grabbed your bags.”

Find LAND SHARKS - A SWINDLE IN SUMATRA at: Amazon

Find Nancy Raven Smith at: Website

Vicki, Thank you so much for hosting me on your blog. It was a pleasure to visit and share a bit about my book.

My pleasure, Nancy. Answer me this: where did you get the title for your book?