Baking up Memories #mgtab #Dessert #Recipes @jacqbiggar

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One of my favorite treats my mom always made was Lemon Poppyseed Loaf. She had a baking table at our local Farmer’s Market where she sold Nanaimo bars, Butter Tart Squares, Rocky Road Squares, Lemon Pies and the most delicious glazed loaves.

Customers would line up to buy her desserts and she rarely had leftovers- our loss!

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Lemon Poppyseed Loaf

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This is sure to be a hit in your home, too!


While you’re enjoying your tasty treat, don’t forget to download our new box set, Sweet and Sassy Baby Love!

Get your copy here

Nine NY Times and USA Today bestselling authors offer stories of men and women who go to great lengths for the children they love.

A scent of innocence, that touch of softness, an angelic nap, and deep belly laughs. Babies and toddlers bring great joy, love, humor, and even conflict into our lives. But first, we need a passionate encounter, a romance that transcends time.


Preorder my new release- My Girl

Sometimes, the right decision isn’t the easiest one to make

Trish Sylvester knows her family and when they accept a week long stay at a rustic dude ranch, she is concerned- especially since it’s at her ex’s home.

Aaron is overjoyed at the opening of his family’s guest ranch, until he learns their first guest is his ex-girlfriend, her parents–and a fiancé.

And that isn’t the only surprise.

I Can’t Believe It’s Already May! #mgtab

Hi Everyone!

Currently I am writing two new wedding stories which will be published in Authors’ Billboard boxed sets, so rather than expanding on that, I thought I’d share my review for my friend Mimi Barbour’s latest series (which of course would be a great gift for MOM!!)

Happy Reading and for those of you who are moms, Happy Mother’s Day!! 

Sweet Retaliation is Book #1 in the fabulous

Mob Tracker Series.

My Review Of Sweet Retaliation: 

A Gripping Series About A Sister’s Quest For Justice

When Cassidy’s twin brother is shot and killed by a gang member, she’s devastated, and becomes obsessed to identify the murderer and seek justice.

But to do this, she needs to be stronger, transforming from the good girl next door into a fearless fighter who puts herself in danger time and time again. Trace McGuire is the detective who’s assigned to solve her brother’s murder. Although the last thing he wants are complications in his life, he finds himself drawn to Cassie, but deeply concerned when she continuously risks her life to seek the truth.

Sparks fly when they decide to work together, and Trace finds himself wanting to protect Cass while falling for her hard. But they each have trust issues, and there are times when they withhold information from each other.

If you crave action, thrills, mystery, amazing characters—and of course captivating, sizzling romance—you’re going to love this series!

From The Author:

This book has been a revelation to me. In fact, the whole series has worked its spell.  It’s been bursts of magic mixed in with a hell of a lot of hard work.

Every once in a while, an author begins a new story, and as soon as it starts, the character takes over. This happened to me. I could picture this girl in my mind, a librarian whose personality had to be that of a shy, scared, insecure miss who did nothing when she watches some mob members kill her twin.

After that incident, she needs to change into a person who feels such revulsion for her behavior that nothing matters except that she seeks revenge for the death of her brother. How can she live with herself if she doesn’t?


But how can she – a weak woman who’s never stood up for herself – make it happen?

That’s when the magic starts…

From $3.99 to $0.99:


Sweet Retaliation

Book #1

The Mob Tracker Series

By NYT Bestselling Author

Mimi Barbour

Chapter One

What the hell was she doing following her brother, especially at night? Cassidy Santino didn’t do darkness. Not in the slums of a city like Las Vegas when, molasses thick, it threatened and terrified.

Gagging, sweating, she’d reached the end of her backbone. Thoughts of giving up and retreating gobbled up the small amount of bravery still hanging on by a thread, making her hesitate. Then worry for her twin, Raoul, kicked in.

Biting her lip, she eased forward so she could see around the rickety fence into the semi-lit alley behind a big warehouse. A group of men milled about in a circle. Two of them were head-to-head in a heated discussion. Adrenalin kicked in when she saw her brother step out of the circle.

Raoul’s shoulders were hunched in the same way he’d hold himself when their father had intimidated him as a boy. She watched him flinch and start to turn away. Then the man he’d been arguing with let out a bellow, backhanded him across the face and shoved hard. Before she could get her bewildered brain to accept the incident, Raoul went down and the other men crowded in and began kicking him.

No! Stop!

Her mind screamed the words, but her voice didn’t connect. It froze. When she opened her mouth fear struck her mute. Though she tried to release her rage, to force sound past the blockage in her throat, not even a peep escaped. She’d never felt so useless in all her sad, ineffectual years. Forcing her limbs to move, she fell forward onto her knees but couldn’t get her leg muscles to function.

Infuriating seconds ticked by as she watched the men work her brother over like he was a soccer ball, rather than a human being.

God! Please…

Movement, shuffling, a voice called out from another direction. “Police. Stop what you’re doing and back away. Get your hands up. Do it now!”

Thank you, Lord! Confidence arrived with the authorities, and Cassi felt a flood of energy. Springing to her feet, she started forward. Before she went two steps, one of the assailants stepped over to Raoul, extended his arm and a gunshot changed the rest of her life. She heard her twin grunt and saw his body jerk.


Fear vanished under her instinctive urgency to get to Raoul. She ran. To help him, save him, give up her life for him. He was all she had in the world, the only one who mattered.

Blinded by grief, unaware of the loud gunplay going on around her, she fell to her knees next to his lifeless form. Before she had a chance to understand the danger, a man dashed out, swept her to the side and covered her with his own body.

“Keep down.” Rough, his hands hurting, he pushed her head under his chest while she wiggled to get back to Raoul. “Stop it. You’ll get us both killed.” His voice, hard and angry drew her attention. She shook away from his hand and looked at him, trying to explain that the injured man was her brother and he needed help. When their eyes met, the bit of light from the building’s illumination revealed his face.

Deep blue eyes, encircled with a dark outer ring of pure determination, penetrated for an instant, an order clear and visible that only a man in command could produce. Compelled to obey, but overridden by her need to get to Raoul, she kept pushing at him, until she felt him jerk and heard his grunt of pain.

One of those monsters had shot her rescuer. Disbelief overwhelmed and in seconds the relentless fear returned. Imprisoned and helpless, the horror of the moment clawed at her sanity. Surrendering to its magnetic lure, darkness claimed her and she knew no more.


For the outstanding Mob Tracker series!

Cassidy is bereft when her twin brother is shot and killed by a gang member. She vows to find the murderer and wreak justice. So she remakes herself from the quiet librarian she is into a hip gangsta chick. She’s something else as well — an elite boxer and this gets her out of tough spots time and time again. Detective Trace McGuire is assigned to solve her brother’s murder and, in short order, he’s completely smitten by Cass. But he’s terribly protective and, while he is in awe of her fighting ability, he can’t help but be beside himself with worry as she throws herself into the line of fire time after time.

Ms. Barbour has written a gripping story about one woman’s quest for justice. She has deftly created marvelous characters that pull you into their story. This is a suspense-filled, full-bore non-stop action ride that you will absolutely love.
I just finished Sweet Retaliation by Mimi Barbour (Book 1 in The Mob Tracker Series).
Sweet retaliation is a book that you do not want to miss!
Cassidy witnesses something that no one should ever have to witness.
Her brother’s murder.
I loved Cassidy from the very beginning. She has it all – sweetness, kindness, sass and class.
Her character is written beautifully, she has such depth in her character.
We see her whole range of emotions and how she deals with them and we also see her transform from what you think is a sheltered, naive woman to a woman that is a force of nature!
Trace McGuire is a man who has seen it all and you feel fairly certain that nothing could ever surprise him as a cop. But he hadn’t met anyone like Cass.
He is completely unprepared for the woman that is as stubborn as he is.
I loved their chemistry and how their characters fit together.
I also giggled multiple times at their banter and especially at his reactions to Cass’s witty comebacks or remarks.
I am in love with this book and I’ll be following the series for more!

Absolutely brilliant read!
From the very first page I was hooked in to this story. The action begins straight away for Cass and doesn’t really stop throughout. This is the first book that I have read by this author and I was really impressed with her writing style. She created characters that I connected with straight away and a plot that flowed seamlessly. This book really was a joy to read! I love mob/crime/mystery stories so I knew this one would be right up my street and it was! There were some fabulous twists and turns and my attention never wavered once! A brilliant introduction to a new author.
Cass was a fantastic character! After the first chapter I wasn’t suite sure whether she would do what she intended to do but as the story went on she showed her strength and was determined to bring her brothers killer to justice. I loved the connection between her and Trace! There was just something about them that I loved. She is probably one of the best female leads that I have read about in a while.
Trace – oh Trace how I love you! As soon as he appeared in the story I knew I would fall in love with him and I did! He was a really great character, independent, focused and not afraid to push the limits when needed. Together he and Cass were amazing!
I really cannot wait to read more from this author in the future and highly recommend this story! You will have a hard time putting it down once you have started!
Mimi Barbour did an awesome job!

Birthing Relationships & Bigger Things





Hello and happy March 8th! In honor of International Women’s Day, I decided to share an essay I wrote a few years back. It touches on the only thing all women (all people) are guaranteed to have in common: we all had a mother at some point.

I hope you enjoy BIRTHING RELATIONSHIPS and that you take time out of your busy day and give yourself a little treat to celebrate and honor yourself–the woman you are, the ways that you’ve grown, the work that you do, and the dreams that you have.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The dining room at my grandma’s, a huge three-floor farmhouse in Hazelton, British Columbia, held three six-foot tables end to end. For years, upward of twenty people had dinner there every day when she was feeding her whole family, plus whatever friends, miscellaneous mill workers, farmhands, or other relations happened to be around. I was always delegated to the kids’ table. This separation wasn’t any form of  “children should be seen and not heard.” It was just practical: seat people where they’d have the most enjoyment.

Eventually though, kids grew up and moved away, paid helpers decreased until there were none, and those of us who remained were old enough for adult conversation, so the ages merged. I loved to listen to the seemingly endless stories my mom, aunts, and grandma told as they cleared dishes, downed tea, or rattled dice playing Yahtzee.

By the time I began having my own children, I’d already heard a lot of family dirt, yet the fact that my generation was now at childbearing age opened the door to a whole new host of tales.

“Great Grandma—Grandma Peggy—had fourteen children. Three sets of twins!” The story always started the same way, even though we all knew how many kids she’d had. “When she had the last set of twins, one was born too small. Well, they were both small, but Shirley? You could fit a teacup over her head. Peggy was told her newest daughter would never leave the hospital with her brother. But she did—against medical advice.

“The doctor told her she was taking the baby home to die, but Grandma Peggy was stubborn and she had decided that her little one would not die, at least not without a fight. She bundled Shirley up in layers of flannel and put her in a loaf pan, and you know how old cook stoves had a shelf for rising bread? Well, that’s where she put Shirley. And every three hours or so, she’d take her down, feed her, unwrap her and move her arms and feet, change her . . . then wrap her up again and put her back on the shelf, just like she was punching down dough.” Here we all laugh and wait in anticipation for the last phrase. “And just like a loaf of bread, that little girl rose. She was the healthiest little thing you ever saw. And that doctor? Well, he just didn’t know what to say.”

My grandma’s stories about herself are shorter, inserted into other stories when they fit. She specializes in tales of obsolete medical “wisdom”—like discouraging women from breastfeeding—and marvels at how open and knowledgeable women of today are about their inner workings and body parts.

My mom often retold the story of how, when pregnant with my first brother, she endured intense pelvic pain, not continually, but at intervals. “It feels like the baby is purposefully slamming his head into the bones down there,” she complained to her physician. “Don’t be silly,” he replied. “Newborns and babies in utero aren’t strong enough to intentionally lift their heads.” Finally labour day arrived. A day later, when she could first walk to the nursery alone, my mom paused at the door and witnessed two nurses talking animatedly over a bassinet. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s impossible!” said one. “Look, look—he’s doing it again,” said the other. Wondering what all the fuss was about, my mom made her way over. There was my ten-pound-plus baby brother raising his head, turning it side to side, and setting it heavily down—almost slamming it—as he shuffled to get comfortable.

Up until motherhood, I had been an enthralled listener. Now I was able to share my own stories. The group favourite is one about the birth of my son. About my hard, fast labour and how I knew my baby was coming soon, but how my doctor disagreed and argued about the nurse’s estimation of how far I was dilated. “She [the nurse] must have small fingers. There’s no way you’re eight centimetres. It’ll be five or six hours yet,” he said, then left. I panicked, thinking I couldn’t possibly endure another six hours.

The minute the doctor was out of the room, I needed to push. “Are you sure?” the nurse asked. “Can’t you hold it?” No, I couldn’t hold it. I was having a baby!

She paged the doctor a bit frantically. He got the call on his cell phone just as he was pulling out of the hospital’s lot. He circled back in, found a new parking spot, and got upstairs and into his scrubs just in time to see the arrival. Christopher burst forth so quickly that he landed on the tray; the doctor couldn’t even catch him. It was only my fourth push and I’d done a sort of crunch thing and got to see my child come out. It was amazing. Seeing him all pink and wet on the stainless steel tray, I announced, “I had a baby. It’s a boy!” The doctor said, “You did. It is.”

Thinking back on these stories and others shared between us women, I realize many had a common theme, childbirth and childrearing, and I have to wonder why.

I think, the fun and laughter of it all aside, we told our stories because they fostered a feeling of connection to each other, despite our many differences.

Even in a family of two or three children contrasts can be dramatic enough, but my grandma had eleven offspring. In her daughters, daughters-in-laws and granddaughters, almost every type of woman imaginable is represented. Widely varying educations, assorted religions, and completely divergent political views abound. Birthing and childrearing are our only guaranteed common ground, particularly the birthing because parenting is more open to dissenting opinions and partings of ways. But in the act of giving birth, no one can argue the other’s experience; they can only identify with its similarities or learn through its differences. Even my aunt and sister who don’t have children bond through these discussions.

“Well, you all completely affirm my conviction to never have children,” one aunt says, laughing. “Besides, I’ve been born and I could give birth . . . I still have the uterus connection.” She makes jests about too-much-information and shares crazily hilarious (and sometimes horrifying) comments she has received from people who range from sceptical to downright affronted that she doesn’t have any “maternal urges.”

Talking of differing adventures and resting in obvious similarities gives us a foundation for conversation about other things. Not all of us are revel-in-the-pure-bliss-of-motherhood types. Definitely not. Our stories are celebratory, but they are also reflective, sometimes negative. They lead into conversations about what we were led to believe as compared to what we found reality to be . . . and trust me, women through the generations (I’ve had five generations to observe) have been taught widely divergent things.

Through our personal situations, we explored and gave body to an idea that we continue to hope stays true—that our pain was not for nothing. We put our life events into story and the listeners gave credence to (and thus soothed) our frustrations and fears, while applauding that which usually goes by unrecognized. It was obvious and permissible to say that being a mother was (is!) important to us. It doesn’t define us, but it is an integral part of who we are and we have pride associated with it.

Years passed, as they do. My grandma finally moved off the farm. The great majority of my relations scattered across North America like dandelion fluff and put down roots elsewhere. Some family members passed on; new ones joined. But we still get together when we can and when we do, we still tell tales. As I relay my own stories and laugh, rage indignantly or get misty-eyed at the ones others tell, deep joy and a feeling akin to immortality surges through me. My daughter and son are adults now, as quick to speak and share as anyone else. I’m almost irrationally happy when my son says, “Tell the one about Uncle Wilf again—but first, did I really wave to you during the ultrasound?”

Today, my mother has been gone for twenty-three years—she died when she was just 42, three years younger than I am now—my grandmother is 88, and my firstborn has two babies of her own. I’m filled with gratitude and awe and something that’s part hope and part responsibility: that our family stories will live on through me and birth the same connection and pride I feel in coming from a long line of tough, resourceful, funny women.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

Thanks so much for reading and have a lovely day!

P.S. In other Happy International Women’s Day related news, I was thrilled to have my novel BIGGER THINGS selected by Kobo for their huge International Women’s Day sale. It’s regular price is $7.99, but it’s 60% off for the next four days–and my team and I managed to get it price-matched across all vendors. I hope you enjoy it and that you experience new birth and bigger things of your own in coming months.



Lifelong friends, dangerous secrets . . .

Jen should be celebrating her 121-pound weight loss, but instead feels lost. Chelsea appears to have it all, but dangerous secrets threaten everything. Kyra is struggling to discover who she is after years of putting up facades. Then crisis hits. Can the friends battle their personal dragons and accept change in order to save their friendship, or do they need to go their separate ways?