Taste of Kiwi

My special guest today is Leah Braemel, a friend and fellow author at Carina Press and Samhain Publishing. Leah has a new release out called Texas Tangle. It’s currently locked and loaded on my reader, and I can’t wait to find time to read it. Meantime, I asked Leah a few probing questions about herself and her writing. I think she deserves a medal – any woman who lives in a household of males is definitely braver than me!

Tell us a little about yourself and how you started writing.

That’s good that you asked for me to tell a little, because there’s not much to tell. I’m the only Canadian-born member of my family – my mother, father and sister are all English. I’ve been married for 32 years and hope to last another 64 (only half-kidding on that one) and have two sons who have just finished school (one high school, one college) but still live at home. Oh, and I have a cat, Spike, who is very disgusted that my lap is often taken by my laptop instead of him. (If you noticed, they’re all males, even the cat. So no frilly stuff in this household. They won’t even allow flowers on the wallpaper, the upholstery or the curtains. Plain colors only please. Talk about testosterone poisoning.)

As for my writing…I wrote my first story when I was around seven. My sister and I were addicted to a brand new science fiction show called Star Trek. (Yes, this is during its first run, before it was known as “The Original Series.” My sister was so enamored of it that she started writing her own scripts. That was the first time I twigged to the fact that people wrote books, that I could write down the stories that I’d tell myself when I went to bed each night. I wrote down one of my ideas and showed it to my sister who was my very first critic. She was also my last critic because after that horrific review (which was probably dead on the mark) I vowed to never show anyone my writing Ever. Again. And I didn’t. For close to 40 years. Oh, I wrote lots of non-fiction manuals for my job, and I wrote newsletters and articles and such, but my fiction I kept hidden and didn’t dare show anyone until the mid 90s. I can’t remember why I trusted that particular friend with my writing but she told me I should try to get published. But I blew her off. “Everyone’s trying to get a book published, I wouldn’t stand a chance” I told her. And I kept that stance until about 2004 when I met a lady on line who was trying to get published. I showed her a bit of my writing and she also encouraged me to get published. She became my critique partner, but after opening her first critique I wondered how the heck she thought I could get published, there were comments made on every line. Of course, she was right on the money and soon I’d learned about showing versus telling, and passive verbs versus active verbs. Then she did the unthinkable. Because I’d been waffling about actually submitting any of my work to an editor or agent, she issued a dare. Next thing I knew I was registered for the 2007 RWA conference and had an appointment with an editor who asked to see a partial of my story.

Your new book, Texas Tangle, is a ménage a trois. What attracted you to write a ménage a trois?

Hmm, that’s a good question. Texas Tangle wasn’t supposed to be a menage until Brett walked in as a secondary character. Then one thing led to another, LOL, and the story demanded it. Menages are always a challenge to me because although I do know a few couples (triples?) who have had them in real life, they’re not generally socially acceptable. After Private Property came out, I had a reader mention that she’d loves to read about menages that end up turning long term, so I played around a bit with Texas Tangle to see if I could find a situation where I could see it being an obvious solution that all parties could live with.

Where did the idea for Texas Tangle come from?

Partly from a trip to Texas I took a few years back, and partly because I love the rural way of life (I was raised on a farm.) As for Nikki’s being robbed, that’s drawn straight from real life — being robbed, excuse me, burgled, steals more than your belongings, they steal your peace of mind. I’ve known quite a few women very similar to Nikki and a couple like both Brett and Dillon, so when I started writing the story, they just seemed naturals for that setting.

What do you tell people when they ask you about writing love scenes or ask the inevitable question of your husband – do you do all that stuff?

It sometimes depends on how I’m feeling or how they ask. Most times I laugh it off and say I have an active imagination and my husband grins and says he loves being my research assistant. There have occasionally been people who are a little more judgmental in their questioning so I have to bite my tongue and not ask them if they would ask Jeffrey Deaver or Harlan Coben how many people they’ve killed in real life researching their stories. (Not that I’m comparing myself to Mr. Deaver or Mr. Coben, of course.)

What is your favorite thing to do on a lazy Sunday?

Depends upon the season — throughout the winter, sitting inside by the fireplace, curled up beside my hubby watching a movie. In the summer? If it’s too hot, then I’m sitting inside curled up beside my hubby writing while he watches golf.

What tip would you give to an aspiring writer who is just starting their writing journey?

Write! Seriously. You can’t find your voice until you’ve written for a while. And if you do plan on getting published at some point you have to have something finished to submit to an editor. That can only be accomplished by writing until you can type those two lovely words “The End.” (Then the editing begins, but that’s another story.)

If you want to know more about Leah, her website is at http://LeahBraemel.com and her blog is at http://leahbraemel.blogspot.com. They can also follow her on Facebook or on Twitter.

And here’s an excerpt from Texas Tangle

Brett reached for Dillon’s front door then stopped. Why couldn’t Dillon have been home? At least that way he knew he could control himself. Even though he’d stayed away a full month, he still hadn’t gotten her out from under his skin.

Get it over with. Give her the news, then stay far away.

He lifted his hand and after a moment’s hesitation, knocked on the door. Maybe he’d get lucky, and she wouldn’t be here. Maybe she’d gone into town with Dillon.

The door creaked open, and there she was, wearing one of the white shirts he’d left behind, a pair of cut-offs beneath. She’d left the top three buttons undone, giving him a tantalizing view of her cleavage. His cock punched against his zipper at the thought of unbuttoning the rest of the buttons, of spreading the fabric wide and tasting her nipples.

Why didn’t he just cut off his balls and hand them to Dillon on a plate?

“Brett?” She looked startled to see him. “Come on in.”

He followed her into the kitchen, watched her fiddle with the coffee maker. Nikki never fiddled and, more importantly, she wasn’t looking at him. He made her nervous. Did she worry he might try something on her again?

His fists clenched at the thought that he might have scared her, made her think he might take what she wasn’t willing to give.

“I didn’t mean to drive you away.” She made a gesture of impatience. “I’m sorry, I’m being selfish. I just…I’ve missed you.”

The heated blood racing through his veins headed south when she smoothed her hands down her front, tightening the fabric over her breasts, accentuating that she wasn’t wearing a bra.

Did she realize how beautiful she was with the color high in her cheeks when she blushed? Longing spun his senses until he felt like he’d been caught in a twister, especially when she turned those soulful eyes on him. The lost tone in her voice cut right through him, pierced defenses he didn’t know he’d erected.

Purchase Texas Tangle from Carina Press

Leah is giving away a download of her ebook Private Property to one lucky commenter. All you need to do to enter the draw is either ask Leah a question or tell us what you say to people who give you a hard time about reading romance. The winner will be announced on Wednesday 14th of July.

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I’ve told you before about the love-hate relationship I have with the little Wii Fit character. Yesterday, I did a weight test, and he scolded me. Here’s how the conversation went:

Him: stand on the wii board. Relax. Measuring. Measuring. Finished.

Him: Why do you think you gained weight, Shelley?

and he gave me a multi-choice list of possible answers. You ate too much. You drank too much. You didn’t exercise. There were a couple of other choices and the final answer was You don’t know.

Me: I don’t know.

Him: Try harder, Shelley and you might make your goal weight.

Yep! The cheek of him. Mr. Wii-Fit Character and I aren’t speaking today. And notice how he had the last word???

I’m guest blogging at Leah Braemel’s blog today about food and romance, both subjects that I really like. Here’s the link to Leah Braemel’s blog.

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The theme for today is Cheers and Drinking Toasts. Wouldn’t you know it? I couldn’t find a single one of my characters saying “cheers!” or offering a toast. But don’t fear – I did find a scene in Fancy Free where Alice, the heroine is trying out a few drinks, ones she hasn’t tasted before. After all, what better way to cap off a lousy and frustrating day?

Fancy Free by Shelley Munro

“Go easy. You’ll choke if you’re not careful. Here. Have some beer. It will soothe your throat.”

Alice eagerly accepted the glass of beer and chugged it down. “Tastes good.”

“I’ll get another one,” he said, his tone wry when she lifted his glass to her mouth again. “How the hell can you be an almost virgin? You either are or you aren’t.”

Horrified, she turned to stare at him. Oh my goodness. She’d told him. She’d really told him.

James gestured at the barman and ordered another beer before turning back to her with a grin. “So what’s the answer?”

“I refuse to tell.” Why would she bare her soul to him? He was practically a stranger. A sexy stranger, who if rumor could be believed—as per this morning’s paper anyway—had a parade of beautiful, leggy women strutting through his bedroom. Alice glanced down at her cloth-covered knees with a rueful sigh. No way did she qualify in the leg department.

James Bates wasn’t the right man for someone who wanted security. She had to remember that and try to ignore his pretty face and sexy smile.

Steven…ah, Steven didn’t seem to want her, or at least he refused to speak to her on the phone when she’d rung him at midday. She frowned. They’d dated for over a year. They had so much in common. Alice had thought she’d known him well and couldn’t believe his sulks. She wanted, needed, a partnership, someone she could rely on one hundred percent, a man who held the same values she did. A secure future with no financial hiccups. And a man who stood at her side—no matter what.

Alice picked up one of her glasses and peered at the dregs. She placed it back on the bar and picked up a gin and tonic. Steven had fallen down on the last item. She glanced at the man beside her. Nope, that man didn’t look like Steven.

James brushed against her arm when he shifted on his barstool and every one of her senses went on high alert. She smelled his citrus and spice aftershave and heard each one of his deep even breaths. A heavy sigh drifted past her lips while her gaze zapped back to study his sexy mouth and his sparkly blue eyes…

He was so pretty.

Oh boy. Eyes front. There was obviously something very wrong with her. Every inch of her skin tingled and her mind drifted to sex with alarming ease. She consoled herself with the fact that anything sexual rated as work-related. That sort of helped with her guilt except she kept fantasizing about sex with James. Close and very personal sex.

Somewhere, somehow during the day, she’d shoved Steven aside and replaced him with Mr. Dashing Dangerous. Her actions reminded her of a desperate woman. Heck, she was a desperate woman, a little voice in her head whispered. Alice straightened abruptly and wobbled on her barstool. Her arm and the outward curve of her breast brushed against his arm before she grabbed the bar and righted herself. The friction between their bodies set off a series of pleasurable explosions inside. Despite one audible pant, she attempted calm and cool. Mmm. Okay, that had never happened when Steven touched her.

Alice gulped and slowly looked across at James. Warmth and heat radiated from his eyes, and she wanted to bask in the masculine attention. Then she noticed the laughter and twinkle in his blue eyes and indignation surfaced.

“You’re laughing at me.” Alice drained the last of her gin and tonic and set the glass on the bar with a distinct clunk.

“No, I’m not,” he said. “What you see is admiration. Not every woman would take work at a condom company in her stride.”

“Oh.” Alice peered closely but his eyes moved across his face. All three of them. She winced when her head suddenly whirled around and around. With a shocked gasp, she screwed her eyes closed before opening them again.

“Are you okay?”

“Did you know you have three eyes?” Alice blinked. “All blue like the sky. And two noses. What on earth do you do with two noses? What do you do when you have a cold? How do you know which one to blow first?”

James leaned close to place his arm around her shoulders. “I think your parents named you well,” he murmured, a chuckle underlying his words. “You’re very curious.”

“Will you come back to the bed and breakfast with me?”

“Sure, I’ll walk you home. Make sure you get there safely.”

Alice attempted to focus on his middle eye. “No, I mean I’m tired of wondering what all the fuss is about. I want to learn the mysteries of sex.”

James glanced at his beer before he looked back at her. He hesitated before his mouth firmed as though he’d made a decision. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Her lips puckered up into a pout, a seductive one, she hoped. Difficult to concentrate with that number of eyes. She had an argument ready to refute. She did. “But an owner of a condom company should know how to work the apparatus.” Yeah. Alice nodded abruptly and regretted it. It doubled the number of eyes. “There’s something wrong with your face. It keeps sprouting eyes. You’ve got six.”

His mouth twitched. “Do you drink very often?”

“Waz that got to do with eyes?”

“Absolutely nothing,” he agreed. “You ready to go home now?”

Alice checked her drinks. No whiskey left. No gin left. But the glasses. Ye gods. They had gone forth and multiplied. There were four of the blighters. She shuddered, the unpleasant taste of the whiskey still a recent memory. “Finished.”

“Let’s get you home then.” James jumped off his barstool and waited at her side. When Alice attempted to emulate his feat, she teetered, toppling sideways and ending up with her nose pressed into a muscular chest. Ooh! Very nice.

Purchase from Ellora’s Cave or Amazon Kindle

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts follow these links:

Moira Rogers
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Lauren Dane
Leah Braemel
Jody Wallace
Mari Carr

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This week’s theme for Snippet Saturday is parties. I’ve picked an excerpt from Cat and Mouse, book five in my Middlemarch Mates series. This book is a standalone erotic romance, although you will probably enjoy it even more if you’ve read the other stories. Oh, and there are a few adult words in this excerpt. I thought about chopping them out, but in the end I thought I’d leave the excerpt as is. Enjoy!

CAT AND MOUSE by Shelley Munro

Country and Western music poured from the huge marquee along with laughter, some of it with a tinge of alcohol-induced hilarity, filled the air by the time Duncan and a couple of the other cowboys wandered over from the campsite. Determination rode him because he knew he’d have a fight on his hands to get close to Lana. Even though tonight wasn’t the main event, there were still a lot of people gathered at the party to raise funds for the local fire service who also carried out search and rescue in the area. The local men, the visiting cowboys and the woman herself would all get in the way of his goal. Too bad. He’d waited a long time and wasn’t about to back off without a fight.

The local committee had gone all out with decorations including wanted posters and a display of Western memorabilia just inside the entrance. He paid his admission and sauntered into the marquee looking for Lana or either of the Mitchells. Difficult to scent anyone in this crowd. Men and women packed the dance floor attempting to do a line dance.

Damn. He couldn’t see Lana. Cursing softly, he pushed his way through the crowd, pausing here and there to say hello to friends and acquaintances. Along with his unease came a contrasting sense of contentment. It was damned fine being home, spending time with his fellow shifters.

“Are you looking for me?” The throaty voice dragged his attention from the dance floor.

Jesus, she looked beautiful. She wore a dark green dress with tiny straps to hold it up. It clung to her curves before falling to swish in loose folds around her knees. The color highlighted her eyes, deepening jade green to a darker, more mysterious hue. The shadow of her cleavage drew his attention He took half a step toward her before stopping abruptly. Not the time or place. The closest he would get to touching during the next few hours would be a slow dance, or if he could persuade her to take a walk with him outside where the air was cool and privacy easier to find.

“Yeah. I thought you might be dancing.” But glad he didn’t have to see another man touch her.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips, a brief brush on the mouth that had his feline purring. “I have been dancing. I saw you come in and wanted to say hello.”

The line dance ended and the band rolled into a slow dance. Perfect.

“Wanna dance with me?”

“Sure.”

They walked over to the makeshift dance floor and she slipped into his arms where she belonged. Her arms stretched up to grip his shoulders and their bodies brushed.

“You look beautiful.” Nothing less than the truth. The full skirt of her dress flirted with the tops of her knees, stirring with each gliding step. He would have preferred that she wear a sack, just so none of the other men could ogle her sexy form. Unfortunately, he could hardly complain since the other women were dressed in a similar manner. He wondered how long it would take to talk her out of that dress, pondered again the advisability of taking a walk.

“Thanks. You look pretty good yourself.”

They danced in silence for a while, Duncan content to hold her in his arms. One dance flowed into another.

“This is nice. I never have a chance to dance.”

He grunted an affirmative reply. That would make him a bastard if he asked her to take a walk. Fuck. Maybe he could steer her into the far corner where some enterprising cowboys had dimmed the lights. Yeah. Sounded like a plan. He danced her slowly across the floor, navigating dancers, cuddling her close and reveling in the soft feel of her body brushing his, her enticing scent of vanilla and the crisp outdoors.

The song ended and regretfully he stepped away from her. “Would you like a drink?”

“Sure. Emily and Saber are over in the corner. Do you want to sit with them?”

“Do you want wine?” Damn, the woman ate him up with her eyes. She shouldn’t do that—not if she knew what was good for her.

Lana winked, her dark lashes sweeping over her cheeks in a sexy fan. “That would be great.” His gaze drifted to her soft, glistening lips. Appealing and sensual. He fought the urge to dip his head and claim a taste.

“Go and sit with Emily and I’ll bring the drinks over.” He started for the bar before stopping and turning back. “Lana, don’t dance with anyone else.”

“But that wouldn’t be polite.”

“Fuck polite. You offered me the weekend.” Duncan strode off to the bar, urgency simmering through his veins. The bloody woman made him crazy. He knew what it felt like to bury his cock deep in her hot pussy and now he wanted a repeat. Once with Lana wasn’t enough.

Purchase at Ellora’s Cave or for Kindle

To read other Snippet Saturday excerpts follow the links below:

Vivian Arend
Moira Rogers
Ashley Ladd
Kelly Maher
Leah Braemel
McKenna Jeffries
Sasha White
Taige Crenshaw
Shelli Stevens
Shelley Munro
Eliza Gayle
Jody Wallace
Elizabeth Naughton
TJ Michaels

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The theme for this week is secondary characters. I really enjoy using secondary characters in my stories. They provide an element of comedy, a foil for the hero and heroine. They can say and do things the main characters can’t get away with if they’re to remain likeable. Sometimes they prove interesting enough that I decide to write their story, complete with happy ending. In Scarlet Woman, the first book in my Middlemarch Mates series, I introduced Saber Mitchell and his four brothers. Readers loved this story and requested more stories. Peeping Tom features Felix Mitchell, Assassin features Leo Mitchell and Stray Cat Strut features the Mitchell’s friend Saul Sinclair. I’d hoped to find time to write Sly and Joe Mitchell’s story this year, but it looks as if it will be 2010 before they meet their match.

SCARLET WOMAN by Shelley Munro

“Oh, man. Look at the tits on her.” Felix made kissing noises deep in his throat. “I’ve died and gone to heaven. Oh, man. She winked. Yep, heaven.”

Sly thumped his brother on the back. “Don’t think it’s heaven, bro. Can’t be with all that sinful lust shining on your face.”

“Cut it out, the pair of you,” Saber said, trying to scowl his boisterous younger brothers into obedience. Despite laying down the law this afternoon, the four were out of control. He had to get them settled before one of their harmless pranks boiled over into something that threatened them all.

“Yeah, gotta remember, this is punishment,” Leo chided, humor dancing in his dark eyes.

Joe let out a low whistle. “I vote the lady in red administers my punishment.”

Saber relaxed a fraction. Good. His plan was working already. If he managed to get each of his brothers mated, they’d cut out the mischievous shenanigans and settle down to raise a litter or two. And he wouldn’t have to worry about articles in the paper like the one he’d seen last month.

Black panther sighted again.

At least the article had lit a match under the council elders. Finally. Agreement that they needed to do something to help the younger males settle. Saber’s mouth firmed in introspection as he recalled the heated meeting. The council had discussed the lack of females of marriageable age. They knew the causes—the feline families tended to have male offspring while the human females seemed to enjoy the lifestyle offered in the city of Dunedin or farther afield. They attended high school and university in the city and never returned to their birthplace. The human males left too, but they tended to return after exploring a little of the world outside Middlemarch. Until the reporter’s story had appeared, no one had tried to solve the problem of a lopsided gender ratio. The article in the paper had been the catalyst. They’d all swung into action to organize a dance they hoped would benefit both the young shifter and human males living in Middlemarch. The task they’d called impossible suddenly became imperative.

Saber eyed Felix and Leo, the brothers standing closest to him, feeling the tension brought about by responsibility coalesce into a solid lump in his chest. They both strenuously denied taking part in the prank, but Saber wasn’t so sure. He knew his brothers—where there was fun to be had, they were in the thick of it.

Felix nudged Sly. “Big bro’s looking serious. He’s got Mission Mate on his mind again.”

Joe leaned closer and whispered, “Can’t have shape shifters roaming around Middlemarch for the humans to see.”

“Enough,” Saber snapped. His brothers sobered, knowing they’d pushed him far enough tonight. Dammit, he had to find them mates. It was too late for him. But not for them. None of his brothers remembered how it had been between their parents. They’d been too young when they died, but Saber remembered how they’d laughed and played together, how they’d made everything seem like a game, even the work on the farm.

Yes, he remembered the intimacy between his parents, and that’s what he wanted for his four brothers.

“Look, we said we’d go along with this plan,” Felix said. “We’ll give it a shot. Me first. Introduce me to the lady in red.”

The lady in red.

The second brother to mention her. Curiosity piqued, Saber turned to check out the view. His breath stalled until the tight vise around his lungs reminded him to breathe. Saber inhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring, feline genes kicking in.

He wanted the lady in red.

To read further excerpts or to buy one of my Middlemarch Mates stories follow these links:
Scarlet Woman, Peeping Tom, Stray Cat Strut, Assassin

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts about secondary characters follow the links below:

Eliza Gayle
Jody Wallace
Moira Rogers
Kelly Maher
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
Lauren Dane
Jaci Burton
Juliana Stone
TJ Michaels
Shelli Stevens
Leah Braemel
McKenna Jeffries
Anya Bast
Mandy Roth
Victoria Janssen
Sasha White

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The theme for today is arrivals. The following is an excerpt from my latest release Soldier of Fortune that shows the arrival of Joanna “Mac” McGregor for her new job.

Soldier of Fortune by Shelley Munro

The charter flight from Jordan to Iraq was a short hop but plenty long enough for Joanna “Mac” McGregor to second-guess her decision to take up a contract in the security sector with Chesterton UK. The wheels of the plane hit the runway, a solid thump before the pilot applied the brakes. Tension seeped into hands holding a fantasy paperback, turning her knuckles white. It wasn’t just her. Even the guys at the back of the plane—the ones who had bantered their way through the entire journey and tried to tempt her into joining the Mile High Club—fell silent. Mac stared out the window. She’d seen the stark reality of Baghdad firsthand when the plane circled the runway to land—the endless sand giving way to the greener city.

Checkpoints. Security forces. Burned-out vehicles, buildings damaged by both allies’ and insurgents’ bombs.

Too late to change her mind and return to New Zealand now.

She’d gone through the lengthy interview process, answered all the questions about why a woman would want to undertake such a dangerous assignment and finally signed on the dotted line. After all, not much call for her skill set in an office and she couldn’t earn this sort of money doing anything else. Icy determination to succeed curled through her gut, squared her shoulders.

Mac disembarked with the rest of the security force, a few intrepid reporters and a camera crew, the initial blast of heat when she walked down the stairs sucking her lungs dry. Sweat broke out over her body and her shirt soon clung to her clammy skin. Something she’d become used to quickly. After formalities, she waited with the other recruits—the new ones and the others who had signed on for a second or third tour.

Like her, they were in it for the money, some for the adrenaline rush. Some of them would return home to family and friends. Some would die. Time would tell which camp she fell into.

The only route into the city, dubbed Route Irish by the Americans, was the most dangerous stretch of road in the world. Despite the fences on both sides of the road, there were dangerous overpasses and numerous car bombs planted to snare the unwary. From the briefing, Mac knew they’d attempt to drive straight through any situation, be it bullets or bombs. Stopping wasn’t an option.

Five minutes later, they pulled out in convoy, protected by security forces from New Zealand and the United Kingdom, their driver pausing to wait while a United States military convoy crossed the road ahead of them. Overhead Mac watched two Black Hawk helicopters drawing fire, diverting it from the road. The entire time their car remained in radio contact with others from the convoy. The drivers and guards constantly assessed risk, on the lookout for threats.

Mac stared out the window, gut jumping because she knew danger lurked around every corner. Signs at the checkpoint authorizing lethal force brought home the reality of her situation. If she found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, she would die. No one left to look after her father then. She scowled at the thought and shoved it away.

Their convoy drove past the International zone, patrolled by the US military, the only part of the city considered relatively safe. They didn’t stop, their destination the less-secure area where many security forces and their clients lived.

The Red zone—her home for the next six months.

Mac climbed from the rear of the armored vehicle, grabbed her gear and followed the other recruits into the main barrack-like building. All the domestic comforts, Mac thought, taking in the mismatched furniture, the clean but scuffed linoleum floor and the poster of a busty blonde hanging drunkenly on the far wall. She dumped her bags at her feet.

A tall, dark-haired man prowled through a doorway on her right and headed to the front of the room, his piercing blue eyes taking in the new arrivals. Mac’s breath caught the instant she glimpsed his face, hurled back to the past.

Louie?

Shock drop-kicked her square in the gut. Why wasn’t he at home in New Zealand? Only her military training kept her face impassive, the astonished gasp trapped inside her throat. Her training did nothing to halt the images flooding her mind, the memories of hard muscles beneath her questing fingers and the way it had felt each time his cock plunged between her legs. Damn, Louie had lied to her.

Purchase your copy from Ellora’s Cave

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts follow the links below:

Eliza Gayle
Jody Wallace
Moira Rogers
Kelly Maher
Victoria Janssen
Ashley Ladd
Shelli Stevens
Leah Braemel
McKenna Jeffries
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Vivian Arend
Lauren Dane
Juliana Stone
TJ Michaels

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I’m doing a guest spot at Leah Braemel’s blog today about small towns. I’m also giving away a prize so I hope you’ll come and visit me over there. Oh, and well you’re there don’t forget to wish Leah a happy birthday!

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My special guest today is Leah Braemel, another blogging friend who comes from Canada. Her very first book, Private Property is out with Samhain Publishing on 27 January 2009. Meanwhile today, Leah is talking about family rituals and she has a very yummy looking recipe for us. Over to Leah…

I want to thank Shelley for inviting me today, it’s my very first ‘guest blog’ so I’m thrilled. Oh, and Happy Birthday, Shelley!”

I love Christmas, I always have. I love the lights and the carols and the joy in watching someone else open a present you’ve chosen specifically for them. So when I had my boys, I wanted to pass that joy on to them.

Every year, we drove to a tree farm to choose ‘the perfect’ spruce or pine to bring home. Every year, our beautifully decorated tree fell down in the middle of the night at least twice, soaking the carpet with gallons of water.

Every year, the boys would write letters to Santa that they would hand deliver to the postmen and -women who collected them at the Santa Claus parade.

The first week of December, I’d bake a gingerbread house and spend the next week assembling it. Every Christmas day, my husband and boys would eye it hungrily, waiting for my approval to bash the heck out of it and retrieve the candies I’d so carefully ‘iced’ to the roof.

Every year, after we’d set out home made cookies and milk for Santa, and spread hay and carrots in the backyard for the reindeer, the boys would sit down for the traditional reading of “The Night Before Christmas” before scurrying upstairs. Then my hubby and I would wait until they were asleep before bringing down the carefully hidden presents to place beneath the tree.

Unfortunately most of those traditions have died off. The Christmas tree farms got edged out as the cities took over the rural areas. Even the pre-cut lots run by the Boy Scouts in the local A&P parking lot and other enterprising tree farmers who would take over empty lots haven’t sprung up in the past few years. But that’s okay because about five years ago, tired of having to mop up after our dog once again toppled the tree, we gave in and bought an artificial tree. Now instead of having to run around the week before Christmas to guarantee a fresh tree Christmas Day, we drag out the boxes and put it up on the first weekend of December and decorate at our leisure.

The letters to Santa and the annual trek to the Santa Claus parade stopped long ago, replaced with Christmas lists that would make Donald Trump’s accountant cringe.

I stopped making the gingerbread house when my eldest suggested, “why don’t you just put the candies out for us to eat?” Since making a gingerbread house from scratch and assembling it are a lot of work, I must admit that was one tradition I was glad to see end. But still, I miss the final product.

Our cherished “Night Before Christmas” book has disappeared, and the cookies we used to set out are now served as an evening snack for everyone to enjoy. The presents are still brought down around midnight, but now the boys (who tower over us) assist in that chore, since my dear hubby and I stash our presents for each other in their rooms.

But even though some of those cherished rituals aren’t observed, others have evolved and flourished. Back when my eldest was about ten, he’d begged and pleaded for a rather pricey remote control car. Santa was naughty that year. Instead of placing the car under the tree, he left a card in my eldest’s stocking with a clue as to where another gift could be found. So began the traditional Christmas Treasure Hunt. We don’t hold a treasure hunt every year – only for those extra special gifts. A brand new computer for the boys one year, another for my hubby a few years later. The whole family gets into the spirit – the ones hiding the present rub their hands in glee while writing obscure poems. The recipient rubs their head in confusion trying to decipher the clues while wanting to open every closet and peer under every bed until they found their carefully concealed present.

The one tradition that hasn’t stopped has been my baking. I love the way the house smells when I’m done, I love the anxious faces waiting until I give the okay to help themselves to the bounty. Usually I spend two days in the kitchen making peanut butter cookies, peanut butter logs, peanut brittle (sensing a trend?), chocolate macaroons, cherry jewel bars, coconut ice, oatmeal cookies, oatmeal squares, shortbread and Nanaimo bars. I’m already getting sideways looks from both the boys and my hubby as they whisper, “When are you making the macaroons?”

Most of the recipes are ones that have been passed down from my mother, but a couple are new – the Nanaimo bars, and the peanut brittle. And the one I’ve sent for Shelley to put up today. I got the recipe for pizza-pan cookies from my youngest’s kindergarten teacher when I helped them assemble a gingerbread house to help raise funds for a family in need. They’re easy to make, and not your usual type of cookie. Instead of rolling the dough into balls or dropping it from a spoon, you fill a pizza pan with the batter and let it cook as one big round cookie. Then when you take it out of the oven and it’s cooled down a while, you slice it just the way you do a pizza. (I usually buy the tin foil pizza pans just for these)

Pizza Pan Cookies

1 cup butter or margarine, softened
¾ cup granulated sugar
¾ cup packed brown sugar
1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 eggs
2 ¼ cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
¼ teaspoon salt
1 package (or 1 ½ cups) semi-sweet chocolate chips (optional)
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)
(You can get inventive and try raisins or M&M pieces, etc.)

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Lightly grease two 12-inch pizza pans. Cream butter, sugars, cream cheese and vanilla in a large bowl. Add eggs; beat until light. Combine flour, baking soda, and salt in a small bowl. Add to creamed mixture; blend well. Stir in chocolate chips and nuts. Divide dough in half; press each half evenly into the pizza pans.

Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until lightly browned around the edges. Cool completely in pans on wire racks. When cool, the cookies may be decorated with icing, icing sugar or other toppings. To serve, cut into slim wedges or break into pieces.

Leah
http://www.leahbraemel.com

PRIVATE PROPERTY – January 27, 2009
Excerpt
PERSONAL PROTECTION – May 2009

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