A to Z Blog Challenge 2021 Cocktails A to Z From the Letter M

Welcome back to Cocktails A to Z, my theme for the 2021 challenge blog. Today, we’re going to wax nostalgic as I think back to the days when I could travel.

I love cruises, but I don’t like airplanes and airports. A few years ago, we got the best of both when we simply took a bus to New York City and boarded our cruise ship. The bonus came with an overnight stay in Manhattan. One year, we saw a New York Rangers’ game. Another we visited the Top of the Rock. And of course each time, we spent a few hours in Time Square.

How many people can say they had their picture taken with Batman?

Today’s cocktail brought to you by the letter M is the Manhattan, named after the island of Manhattan itself. If you haven’t been to New York, I highly recommend it. There is so much to see and do. I’ve been five times now, and there are still many wonderful things i want to see. In my fifth Cocktails for You book, Make Mine a Manhattan, my heroine visits the city, searching for inspiration for her newest novel. This book will be available in September.

Make it Your Own

Ingredients

2 1/2 ounces whiskey
1 ounce sweet vermouth
3 dashes Angostura bitters

Mix It.

The Manhattan can be served straight up or on ice. I prefer mine ‘on the rocks’ as they say

Fill a whiskey tumbler with ice.

Add all the ingredients and stir.

Garnish with maraschino cherries

Serve as is or strained into a cocktail glass.

Enjoy!

Here are the book description for Make Mine a Manhattan

What’s an author to do when she’s hopelessly stuck, thanks to writer’s block?

With only eight weeks left to finish her newest novel, bestselling author Sydney Sanders, aka Robin Langford, is stuck. On an impulse, the thirty-five-year old introvert decides to take her agent’s advice and shift gears, but instead of going on a short vacation, she’s going to immerse herself in her story by assuming her heroine’s identity and going to Manhattan to live out the plot. What could possibly go wrong?

As Savanna Long, she boards the train, expecting a quiet ride and time to refresh her muse for the chore ahead, but a lot can happen during the thirty-eight hour trip, especially with her imagination and the drop-dead gorgeous passenger in the next car.

What starts out as a research project takes an unexpected turn when she falls head over heels in love. Suddenly, her reality is better than anything she could ever imagine—and she can imagine a lot—but there’s a glitch. How will her handsome hero feel when he discovers the woman in his bed isn’t the person he thinks she is? Will the fledgling romance fizzle out, or will she have the bestseller she wants and the man she loves?

Here is the opening scene.

“Please, Mom, can’t you just let it go?” I begged, regretting my decision to stop in for a cold drink after my morning run. “You asked and I said no, and I mean it. I’m not interested. Nyet, nada, nein, non.”

The most annoying thing about wearing a mask to protect myself and others from COVID-19 was the inability to see someone’s lower facial expressions, but the eyes never lied. From the storm clouds in my mother’s gray ones, I knew she was angry with me, but I was just as mad at her—well, maybe not at her exactly—but I was frustrated, and this scheme of hers was just one more complication I didn’t need. At the moment, I was hot and sweaty. I just wanted my iced capp and then a shower.

“It’s not as if Mayor Loucks asks you for favors every day,” Mom continued with another volley in an argument I was determined she would never win.

“For the last time, Mom, I refuse to go out with every eligible Tom, Dick, or Harry someone throws in my path,” I stated, my teeth gritted so tightly, they ached. “Besides. We’re still supposed to be staying socially distant. I’m perfectly content in my own bubble. I like my life here as it is, without a lot of fanfare. Shakespeare and I are just fine.”

Mom harrumphed as she finished putting the final touches on my iced cappuccino. The good thing about having a parent who owned a coffee shop was the free drinks, the bad thing was the unsolicited advice.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so obstinate and selfish,” she continued. “The pandemic is winding down, and this is just one little dinner—a barbecue, for heaven’s sake. You’ll be outside. The man is in Flowerfield to look over the old Dog Mountain ski area. If he agrees to invest in it, it’ll be a shot in the arm for the town, and Lord knows, we can use it. Franklin assures me the man has had his Coronavirus vaccine and has a negative test. You can’t get any safer than that these days, and you know it. Besides, Lacey says he’s gorgeous, cultured, and filthy rich. You aren’t getting any younger and quality husband material isn’t easy to find around here. I would think you would be happy to take one for the town.”

“Take one for the town? Just what are you suggesting, Mother? I’m perfectly happy without a prick between my legs or anywhere else,” I hissed through clenched teeth.

“Sydney Robin Langford, you watch your mouth. I didn’t raise you to speak like that and you know it. That is most definitely not what I meant. There are decent folks in here who want to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee without listening to your foul language. The way you’re behaving these days, I swear you’ve become anti-social. Maybe you should see Doctor Edwards. You could’ve started premature menopause.”

I exhaled forcefully. I couldn’t say prick, but my mother, in the same quiet tone a five-year-old uses to whisper, could inform the town that her thirty-three year old daughter was menopausal.

“Mom, I’m sorry, but I don’t have time to play nice-nice with some rich carpetbagger who’ll probably walk away from the deal anyway.”

“You’re too busy? I doubt that. You’re the only person I know who actually enjoyed all those months of quarantine. If I hadn’t insisted you come to dinner last night, you would’ve brushed off your sister and your nephew as well as your dad and me. So tell me, Miss Too-Good-to-Do-The-Town-A-Simple-Favor, what is it that you’re working on? And don’t say school work because you started summer vacation last week.”

“I’m … I’m working on a special course—something online,” I stammered, the half-lie slipping out of my mouth.

“You’re always working on something online. The governor says that the kids will be going back to in-classroom learning this fall, so you can quit trying to develop those—what did you call them? Oh yes—innovative and exciting online lessons.” Her eyes narrowed. “I was reading about screen time dependency. Are you addicted to video games? Good Lord, don’t tell me you’rewatching porn or chatting with some stranger who could well be a serial killer.”

“Mother! I don’t know where you get your ideas, but no!”

I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and reached for my cappuccino. And here I thought I was the one with the wild imagination. It was perfectly acceptable to send me on a blind date with a stranger who had money and might invest it in the town, but if I were to meet anyone online, he would be the next Jeffrey Dahmer.

“Forget it. You wouldn’t understand. You never have.” I stepped back. “I have to get home and feed Shakespeare.”

My mother turned and glared at me.

“You treat that cat better than you treat the members of your own family. Fine. I’ll call Franklin and make some excuse, but you’ll regret not helping out when the town needed you. If Stargazer Enterprise does reopen the mountain, having a close personal relationship with the CEO would be quite advantageous.”

Would she never give up? On the defensive now, I harrumphed.

“Since when does a blind date barbecue I have no intention of attending morph into a close personal relationship? Forget it, Mom. I’m not the sacrificial virgin ready to be tossed into the volcano to save the town. Unless you agree not to harp on this again, I’m not coming back for lunch with Callie and Mickey.”

The bell rang announcing the arrival of another customer.

Thank you, Lord.

“Fine,” Mom agreed, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. “Maybe he doesn’t need a date per se. There will be plenty of single women there. I’ll see you at one thirty sharp.”

She frowned, her mask moving up her face almost obliterating her eyes.

I sighed, knowing full well that this wouldn’t be the end of it, but if I didn’t make lunch, I wouldn’t survive the lecture that was sure to follow.

“I’ll be here.”

Turning abruptly, I collided with the mountain behind me, splashing my iced capp all over both of us, the ice cubes settling on his loafers.

A collective gasp filled the room, and I was suddenly aware of the dozens of gazes fixed on me. There was Frank, the town mechanic and Sylvia who ran the dry cleaners. Was that Mayor Loucks? Wouldn’t he be happy to discover he’d avoided setting his big buyer up with the Queen of Bad Luck?

“Oh my God,” Mom cried. “What have you done? Don’t you ever watch what you’re doing?”

What I’m doing?

Speechless, I gaped at the huge, wet spot spreading across the man’s tan shirt and khaki pants, scarcely noticing the fact that my white cotton t-shirt was almost as wet. Tilting my head up, I stared at the face hidden behind his mask, mirrored sunglasses, and the brim of his Panama hat. When had I ever seen a man with such broad shoulders? Despite my mask, the aroma of his aftershave tickled my nose, and I sneezed.

Heat filled my cheeks. No doubt the top half of my face was as red as a ripe tomato, and considering I had carrot-colored hair, currently pulled up into a messy bun on the top of my head, it wouldn’t be a good look on me. I peered at the mess I’d made, suddenly aware of the fact that my tightened nipples were poking out of my wet shirt.

Mortification mixed with indignation, and my brain clicked into gear. I set the empty cup on the table beside me and tried to cover my wet chest with my arms.

The stranger just stood there, looking down on me.

Not known for my patience and diplomacy, I lashed out at him in a tone worthy of Katerina in The Taming of the Shrew.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were there. Of course, if you hadn’t been standing right on my ass, we might’ve avoided the collision. Or don’t you know what six feet away means?”

He hissed in a sharp breath but didn’t speak, no doubt because he knew I was right.

Mom raced around the counter with a damp cloth and a pile of napkins.

“Don’t just stand there, do something.”

Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the damp cloth from her and started dabbing at the coffee on my t-shirt.

“Not you, for heaven’s sake,” Mom barked.

So much for motherly love and compassion!

Turning, I began rubbing at the stain on the man shirt and pants, praying it wouldn’t stain. My new t-shirt probably would, and that annoyed me more, causing me to rub harder.

I stopped dead, my heart pounding out a primitive beat, my lungs refusing to function.

While the stranger had to be at least six foot six, I was barely five feet tall. Most of the coffee stain was on his crotch, a fact my addled brain had ignored. My hand was essentially massaging that area of his anatomy, and I could feel something cylindrical growing hard under my hand.

I jumped away as if I’d been tazered. The old, Is that a flashlight in your pocket or are you happy to see me? joke ripped through my mind, and I smothered a giggle.

“Robin, you’re just making it worse,” my mother said, handing the man the pile of napkins. “Perhaps you would like to step into the washroom, sir?”

The man grunted and reached for the napkins. I couldn’t help noticing his hands. Whoever I’d collided with had the hands of a pianist, with long tapered fingers. What would it be like to have hands like that caress my body?

Mother of God! What is wrong with me?

As soon as he moved away, I rushed out the door, jogging the three blocks home faster than I’d ever run them before, grateful that at seven in the morning, the street was all but deserted.

The minute I stepped inside the house, I collapsed into the chair, a sudden fit of giggles taking my breath away. I laughed until my sides ached. In my mind’s eye, I pictured the scene and dissolved into giggles again.

Of course Mom would place the blame for this squarely on me … the wayward daughter who never did anything right.

Shakespeare wandered into the living room and meowed a welcome.

“It served him right,” I began explaining the incident to my companion. “Had he been the requisite six feet away, he would’ve escaped his fate, and I would now be finishing my iced cappuccino.”

Watch my website for more news about this book and all of my other work. https://mhsusannematthews.ca/

Come back tomorrow to see what you’ll get from the letter N. Don’t forget to check out other challengers here. https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1mvSm8FsuFVkOQulQ0EgzslGiNd8CZWWrqaRhCG8Sv4o/edit#gid=1500973813