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Ingredients:
¾ cp of gluten-free flour
½ cp of almond, rice or banana flour
⅔ cp dark brown sugar 2 tb raisins (optional)
2 tsp ground cinnamon 1 tsp ground nutmeg
1 tsp baking powder
½ tsp baking soda pinch of salt
2 large eggs
⅓ cp of melted butter or choice of oil 1 tb of vanilla extract
4 medium carrots, grated (about 2 cups)
½ cp crushed pineapple
Directions:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees and spray
muffin tins or line muffin tins with paper liners if using.
Whisk all dry materials together. In
another medium lightly whisk the egg, then whisk in the butter or oil and
vanilla extract.
Quickly and lightly fold the wet
ingredients into the dry ones with a rubber spatula. Stir in the carrots and
pineapple until everything is evenly mixed. The batter will appear thick.
Divide it up into the muffin tins, evenly. Bake until brown and toothpick comes
out clean, approximately 30 minutes. Take out of tins after five minutes and
cool on rack. These are great warm but they can be eaten cool as well. These
freeze well too and can be reheated in the microwave.
Muffins are about 180 calories a piece, approximately, and calories will fluctuate depending on oil and flour chosen.
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Read an Excerpt:
This
one’s perfect… similar to the model in the Botticelli painting Birth of Venus
and the evil one who took his son. She has a long, narrow face, alabaster skin,
and golden-brown hair that shines in the sun.
Just
like her.
King
crouches, blending in with the low-hanging branches of the donkey killer plant.
He’s been stalking the woman on the bike path since yesterday morning. It’s a
popular path with bikers, connecting the towns of Assisi and Spoleto in Umbria.
It’s December now, though, and too cold, which explains why she is the only one
currently on it. The woman’s faded blue jeans and turquoise flannel shirt make
her easy to track.
Yesterday,
she sat under a sprawling pine tree, its thick branches casting dark shadows on
her face as she wrote a letter. The paper covered her lap. She attacked it with
her pen, each stroke seemed more violent than the last until she tore the
letter into pieces. Her chest heaved and then, after she had calmed down, she
wrote another. When she finished, she read it aloud, her voice breaking as
tears streamed down her cheeks. She begged her boyfriend to send money.
After
pushing her completed version into an envelope, the woman walked to town,
speaking to herself the whole way before she mailed it. Then she trudged back
to her tent in the woods and got drunk, passing out, her desperation revealing
itself once more. King had slept while she slept, only coming to when her movements
awakened him this morning.
Now
she stops to fetch the last of her wine from her backpack and smokes reefer
while she hikes, making her more vulnerable. She’s probably on her way back to
her tent, the one she slept in last night. The flimsy canvas is no barrier or
protection from him or anything else. How silly for her to be out here alone.
Victor
King is alone, too. That’s seldom the case. Most of the time, he travels with
others from his pack, but right now, they’re back in the cave. If they had been
here, King wouldn’t be able to do what he’s about to.
Once
he traps her, he’ll call his friend Matteo, a human. Matteo promised to give
King five million lire for any woman he traps and gives him. King will use the
money to buy food and supplies. There’s been limited food to hunt as it’s
gotten colder, and once it snows, there’ll be even less.
King
had scoped the woods all morning and afternoon. There are no hunters or farmers
who will shoot at him to help the woman. The nearest cottage is three miles
away.
She
picks up her backpack before placing one strap over her shoulder and taking a
few steps. King keeps within striking distance. The jays and blackbirds go
quiet, and the woman senses something wrong and freezes. She turns her head
from right to left, searching the woods.
King
knows she can’t find him.
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