As many of you may know, our beloved sister hostess SHARON DONOVAN, tragically passed away on 11th April 2012. We who knew her, loved her, and were inspired by her courage and determination to face head on whatever life threw at her. When she could no longer see to paint she turned to writing and showed her amazing talent in the Inspirational Romance and Romantic Suspense genres, and her story 'Charade Of Hearts' was awarded the coveted Predators and Editors Award in January 2011.

This Blog was a source of great delight to her, she was one of the founder hostesses and she contributed to the fun and silliness in her own original way, and was kind enough to let her unique creation, the hunky butler 'Oliver' join us for our Friday romp and prepare 'virtual breakfast' for the guests on the following morning. It's beyond hard to have to go on without her, but we know that she would have been the first to insist that 'the show must go on.' She is, and will always be with us in spirit.
Sharon, dear friend, we will never forget you.
The Author Roast and Toast is part of the legacy you left us. Let's raise a Toast to you as well as all our guests.

Saturday, October 29, 2011

And Roseanne's winner is:

Jenna Storm.

Congratulations Jenna - your prize is on it's way if it hasn't already arrived!

Sharon, Mary, Patsy and Lyn appear on-stage, holding hands, to take a bow
They hug each other and wave before leaving the stage.

"Just another Roast and Toast!"

Thanks to Roseanne for being a fantastic guest of honour, and such  a joy, and to everyone who commented and made this Roast such fun. We really appreciate all the great comments.

Join us again on 4th November

when we'll be roasting  Cathie Dunn at

    Friday, October 28, 2011

    Roseanne Dowell's Halloween celebration for 'Connection Of The Minds'

    A hunter’s moon hangs low in the dark desert sky as the gypsies make their way to the Gothic mansion to have their tarot cards read by Mademoiselle Roseanne Dowell. It’s the spookiest evening of the year, and anything can and probably will happen. The gypsies pass around the jug of wine they found on a tombstone. A coyote howls, its keening echo slicing through the thicket. Wind whistles through the trees, sounding like the wise old whispers of the dead buried thousands of feet below on hallowed ground.

    An eerie light glows on the mansion, illuminating Cousin Itt as he walks straight through the solid mahogany door.

    A colony of screech owls shriek, flapping their wings as they take flight. Scared out of their wits, the gypsies scurry through the foliage and up the thickly wooded path to the mansion, silken skirts of many colors swirling in the breeze. Ghostly footsteps echo from all over the grounds, and tormented souls scream from their graves. Reaching the Gothic mansion, the gypsies pound up the stone steps and are just about to yank the chain when Grandmama walks straight through the door and vanishes into the black of night.

    Quivering, the gypsies pull on the hangman’s noose, ringing the massive dome in the bell tower. The entire mansion quakes. The door creaks open, squeaking on rusty hinges. Donned in formal butler attire, Lurch stands there staring, holding a strange shaped candlestick. His stone cold eyes shimmer with madness, and his hair gleams in the moonlight. A cold wind ripples his white mustache. He opens his bloodless lips and bellows in a baritone voice, “You rang?”

    “We’ve come to have our tarot cards read,” said the gypsies four. Spewing a deep, annoyed grunt, the butler beckons them inside, patting them down.

    The gypsies enter the parlor. Thing’s hand pops out of the wall, transporting the jug of wine to Lurch with a snarly guffaw. Shrieking, Sharon staggers into the wall. With a groan, pocket doors part and she is swept inside. When they slide open, she emerges in the upper wing as Grandmama, a witch and renown charlatan. Humming along to the harpsichord  vibrating through the mansion, she sets her crystal ball on the table and conjures up potions, spells and hexes with a wicked grin.

    Mary shrieks when a black widow spider climbs out of its web and bites her. As the poisonous venom seeps through her blood, her reflection shimmers in the mirror. She is Wednesday Friday Addams. Dressed in a black tutu, she practices her ballet to the pumping harpsichord. Grinning, the strange little girl kisses Homer, her pet spider. Laughing manically, she beheads her Marie Antoinette doll.

    Lucifer, the pet lizard, slithers out of the woodwork and spits on Patsy. Blinking, she passes out cold. When she comes to, she finds herself hanging from the parlor tree branch by her teeth, delighted that she can out climb the gorilla. Spying her reflection in the mirror, she sees herself as Pugsley, a pudgy but extremely agile little boy that enjoys blasting caps and engineering machinery. Leaping to the floor, he takes Aristotle, his pet octopus for a walk.

    All alone in the mansion, Lyn is frightened and very dehydrated. Thing’s hand pops out of the wall and gives her a glass of mead. She gulps it and finds herself dismounting from a hanging position upon a chandelier. Transported as Gomez, a wealthy aristocrat due to owning numerous companies and stock, although squanders his money with a cavalier attitude. He nonchalantly reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out an always present lit cigar. Ringing a bell, Lurch summons one and all to the great room where the guest of honor awaits.

    A scrumptious feast is laid out:

    Appetizers: Rich Gruyere Spice fondue in Roasted Pumpkin Hummus and vegetables,
    roasted nuts and shrimp cocktail.

    For the main course course there is Spinach Pear Salad with Vinaigrette Harvest Beef Stew Roast Chicken with Herb Butter, Onions and Garlic Parmesan coated sweet potato fries Garlic Cheese Biscuits Green beans roasted squash medley, Apple-plum glazed pork tenderloins, rotisserie chicken and vegetable lasagne,

    Followed by Apple pie, Pumpkin Pie, Ice cream and a special chocolate cake - and of course a Sexy Devil Cocktail.


    Roseanne Dowell, donned as Morticia, is elegant and cultivated. Costumed in a long, flowing gown, she sashays around the Gothic room, lighting standing candelabras with her fingertips.

    The flickering tapers showcase her artwork and flesh-eating plants. Bats, ghosts and vamps flap above a long marble table where tarot cards are scattered around a crystal ball. Mind readers, palm readers and fortune tellers are at the ready for those who dare.

    Humming, Morticia snaps the buds from her dozens of roses, arranging the stems in vases. Responding to the harpsichord music, smoke billows from her chest. Turning to the audience, she smiles and takes a sweeping bow. "Welcome to the Roast and Toast. My celebratory party takes place in The Adams Family mansion. I invite you to enjoy the food, martinis and entertainment. For your listening pleasure, here’s a blurb and excerpt from my latest release."Connections Of The Mind,." Don’t forget to leave a comment. HAPPY HALLOWEEN!"

    Connections of the Mind (Paranormal Mystery Romance) 
    Strange, realistic dreams and visions disrupt Rebecca Brennan’slife, especially when she actually feels someone’s pain.

     Was this really helping? How many hours had she spent sitting across from the mammoth mahogany desk, staring at the book-lined shelves behind him? And so far, she didn’t know anything more than before. Once more, that’s it. If nothing changed today, she’d quit coming. Maybe he was a quack, like her brother said. Rebecca took a breath and relaxed in the comfortable atmosphere, inhaled the smell of new leather that clung to the chair, and leaned back. Okay, maybe she did have a deep extra sensory perception connection with someone like Bernard said. The question was with whom. “I think you need to find this person,” Dr. Clark suggested.

    “It’s possible the physic mind is reaching out to you for help.”

    "How?" That’s why she was here. If he didn’t help her figure it out, that was it. No more visits. Besides, it cost money, and who could afford it? If Allison hadn’t agreed to pay half, well that was another story. Dr. Bernard’s voice brought her back.

     “Start with the dreams,” he suggested. “Tell me about them again.” “I see scenes with emergency vehicles. Last night someone got shot," she told him for what seemed like the hundredth time. "I wonder if he has something to do with law enforcement or other emergency operations. I'd recognize the town if I ever saw it in person. It’s so vivid in my mind.""Would you consider hypnotism?" Bernard fingered his beard. Intense blue eyes stared into hers. "Maybe your sub conscious mind will reveal the place, or person, or something to help you find it."

    “No!” Rebecca sprang up in bed. Hot searing pain bore into her shoulder. What was happening to her? A warm sticky substance flowed from her shoulder. Oh God, there was going to be blood. From the feel of it, lots of blood.  Half afraid to look, her hand trembled as she slowly brought it in front of her face and looked at it.  Dry, no blood.  What was going on? These kinds of things happened way too often lately. Okay, they were dreams but still. They were so damn real.

     Rebecca eased off the bed. Her feet felt like lead weights as she walked to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. After a big gulp, she hurried back to bed. Shivers racked her body even with the blanket pulled up to her chin. A minute ago sweat soaked her skin. Now she couldn’t get warm. Someone’s life had invaded her mind. She didn’t know who or where they lived. And she sure as heck didn’t like it. These were more than dreams. Most of her visions happened while she slept, but they were real. Besides, too many occurred during the day.

     The pain eased, but fear and danger lingered. Curling up, she pulled the blanket tighter, closed her eyes, and willed herself to sleep. Strange visions played in her mind. Red, white, and blue flashing lights, fire engines, and ambulances, and police rushed around calling instructions, trying to control panic and hysteria at the scene.
     Rebecca rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the visions.

     “If only I knew how to find this person. Maybe then I’d find out what these dreams and visions mean.” Her voice startled her in the quiet room. Snuggling deeper in bed, pushing the thoughts away, she tried to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come. Her mind wouldn’t be still. The visions persisted.  Was she going crazy? Maybe Allison was right to force her to see a parapsychologist.

     "I think you’re experiencing a psychic phenomenon." Allison had suggested. "Like ESP or something." The next morning Rebecca, once again, sat in Bernard Clark’s office. Something about the heavy-set, middle-aged man with salt and pepper hair and scruffy beard reminded her of her grandfather. As usual, he listened to her story with a serious expression.

    Leary about being hypnotized, but desperate to find who shared her mind, Rebecca agreed. Under her hypnotic trance, she revealed the name of a shoe factory. A place called Booth’s Boots, and she repeated the name, Morris, over and over. "It’s not much to go on," Rebecca told Allison later,” but it’s more than I knew before. Maybe Morris is my mind connection."

    Encouraged by the information, she spent the better part of the day doing research. Using the Internet, Rebecca keyed in Booth’s Boots. Instantly, several websites popped up.

    “Okay, let’s check out Boothsboots.com.”

    A website, showing various types of boots from hunting to work boots, popped up. “This is great. Let’s see what this says.” She clicked on News and Events. “No help there. Okay, let’s try Outlet Stores.” She almost jumped out of her chair. “There it is!” A factory, located in Morrisville, Ohio. “Morrisville, could that explain the name Morris?” A prickly sensation went up her spine. She was getting close; she could feel it.

    “Okay, let’s try this.” Rebecca didn’t care she was talking to herself. Besides, it wasn’t the first time. KeyingMorrisville into the search engine, she held her breath, more determined than ever to find the town. If it took all day, then so be it.  A site popped up with several suggestions. “Okay, let’s see what this one is about.”  Morrisville.net homepage popped up, and further down the page, it showed – Pictures taken around Morrisville.


    Roseanne Dowell is an avid reader and writes various types of romance - paranormal, contemporary, and mystery. She has several books published as well as over 40 articles and short stories published in magazines such as Good Old Days, Nostalgia, and Ohio Writer and several online publications. Besides teaching writing courses for Long Story School of Writing www.lsswritingschool.com , she also taught two writing courses for the Encore Program at Cuyahoga Community College.

    Roseanne lives in Northeast Ohio and where she enjoys life as a wife, mother, grandmother and great grandmother, Besides writing, Roseanne enjoys embroidery and quilting, especially combining the two.

    Roseanne Dowell

       Book releases from   http://bit.ly/roseannebooks

    To win a copy of Roseanne's book, all you have to do is just leave a comment and your e-mail address.
    Contest ends tomorrow and everyone who comments is elligible.

    Tuesday, October 25, 2011

    Jennette's winner is...

    CALISA Congratulations Calisa, we're sure you're in for a thrilling and enthralling read!

    Sharon, Mary, Patsy and Lyn appear on-stage, holding hands, to take a bow
    They hug each other and wave before leaving the stage.
    "Just another Roast and Toast!"
    Thanks to Jennette for being a wonderful guest of honour, and for making it so much fun,  and to everyone who commented .. We really appreciate every comment!
    Join us again on 30th October when Roseanne Dowell will be our Halloween guest of honour at: