Taste of Kiwi: Blog of Author Shelley Munro

The theme for this week is villains. I think bad guys add an extra dimension to a story. Often they’re very similar to the hero. They’re dynamic and handsome and sexy, but they’ve made different choices, often the wrong ones, which bring them into opposition with our hero or heroine, sometimes both.

I’ve picked a villain excerpt from The Spurned Viscountess.

The Spurned Viscountess by Shelley Munro

“Hawk, the lookout sighted two people up on the cliff. Man and a woman.”

Hawk turned to stare at the wizened man who’d called out. Beneath the loose black mask, his mouth firmed to a thin line of irritation. Damn inconvenient. He wanted to shift the cargo inland today, but that wouldn’t be possible with strangers around.

“Did they see the lookout?” His low voice held authority. Power. It breached the distance between them easily.

Whiting raised his lantern to navigate the uneven, slippery floor of the cave until he stood in front of Hawk. “He said they did.”

Hawk bit back his impatience. Damn idiot. Did none of them understand how the return of the long-lost heir threatened them? Hastings must have a guardian angel looking over his shoulder. A snarl built deep inside Hawk’s chest, fighting for release. He refused to give in to the luxury, the loss of control. Hastings might have escaped death at his hands twice, but it wouldn’t happen a third time. On this occasion he had a plan—a foolproof strategy that would allow him to taunt Hastings before the final deathblow. Thank God he’d had the foresight to clear the tunnels leading beneath the castle. No more spur-of-the-moment attacks.

Instead, he looked forward to weeks of enjoyable entertainment before the culmination of his scheming. The tension inside him eased at the thought.

“Tell him to take an empty sack and collect seaweed. Once the sack is full, tell him to carry it up the path.” His words held enough bite to make the older man shuffle uneasily. Good. A little fear was a healthy commodity.

“Aye, Hawk.” Whiting doffed his hat, half turned away to carry out the instructions, then hesitated. “And if they question him?”

Hawk shrugged, his mind already busy with alternative plans to transport the cargo. “They won’t. If he carries the bag, his purpose will be self-evident.”

“Right you are.”

Whiting moved stealthily toward the mouth of the cave with a minimum of noise. The best of a dim-witted lot. At least this group carried out orders without question. Hawk heard the low hum of speech as Whiting relayed his message to the lookout.

A dull thud sounded from farther up the passage followed by a curse. Long strides took Hawk to the source of the noise. He surveyed the barrel on the cave floor. Brandy trickled from the cask, the fumes filling the air.

“Whiting will deduct that from your share. Do it again, and you’ll deal with me.” Hawk’s voice lashed out, leaving the man pale in the flickering light of the lantern. “Understood?”

The man cowered but managed to meet his gaze for a brief moment. “Aye.”

Hawk noticed the silence in the cave, and his gaze leaped to the rest of his workers. “Back to work. I want this cargo shifted by the end of the day. Move.”

A flurry of activity greeted his order as the men put their backs into the job at hand. When Hawk was satisfied the work was progressing, he stalked to the mouth of the cave, passing Whiting on the way.

“Watch the men. I want this finished today.”

“Today!”

“Today,” Hawk reiterated, his voice hard. “Supervise the men. I’ll keep watch on the cove. Go.”

“Aye,” Whiting bit out. “Sir.”

Hawk remained still until Whiting’s footsteps faded. But under the mask, his face tensed, eyes narrowed. Whiting’s attitude had changed over the last two months. He’d started to question orders. Damn, he didn’t have time for a power struggle. Not when everything he’d worked for looked as if it might be wrenched from his grasp, making all his plans for naught.

Hawk peered outside, along the shoreline. A man was leading a horse, followed by a woman. Hawk snorted. He would recognize that brute of a horse anywhere. Hell fire and be damned.

Hastings.

His hand itched to reach for his gun. He could finish this now. And solve each of his problems in one fell swoop. One shot would do the trick. His hand moved without volition to caress the pistol on his hip. One shot at close range, and Hastings would be gone.

Except that would make things too easy. Hawk stilled, frustration making him frown. He wanted Hastings to suffer for all the wrongs he had inflicted, to know who killed him and why. Hawk wanted to see his enemy’s face as his life ebbed away so he could savor his victory.

He intended to dance on his enemy’s grave.

Purchase The Spurned Viscountess from Carina Press, Amazon or All Romance eBooks

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts follow the trail below:

Shelley Munro
Vivian Arend
Taige Crenshaw
McKenna Jeffries
Lauren Dane
TJ Michaels
Ashley Ladd
Mandy Roth
Mari Carr
Shelli Stevens
Jody Wallace

I was delighted with this review I received from Night Owl Romances. It’s actually my very first review for The Spurned Viscountess. I’m glad it’s a good one.

“Shelley Munro’s revised story is a beautiful, adventurous tale of the strength of love and forgiveness. Set in 1720 England, the landscape is so well defined that the reader is immediately drawn back to the past. With hints of a gothic story, the tale moves along at a quick pace with hints of mystery and a very satisfying romance. The characters are evocative with the reader quickly sympathizing with Rosalind and Lucien, though troubled by the past, is definitely a hero of the first order.” TOP PICK.

Here’s the link to the entire review at NOR

Teaser Tuesdays is a weekly bookish meme, hosted by MizB of Should Be Reading. Anyone can play along! Just do the following:

~ Grab your current read
~ Open to a random page
~ Share two (2) “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
~BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!)
~ Share the title & author, too, so that other TT participants can add the book to their TBR Lists if they like your teasers!

My teaser this week is from my upcoming release, The Spurned Viscountess.

Damn it, if he had to marry, he didn’t want to marry a mouse. All he wanted was Francesca, and since she was dead, he couldn’t have her.

from The Spurned Viscountess by Shelley Munro

Here’s the blurb:

She must marry him.

Cursed with the sight and rumors of witchcraft, Rosalind’s only chance at an ordinary life is marriage to Lucien, Viscount Hastings. She doesn’t expect love, only security and children of her own. Determined to go through with the wedding, she allows nothing she encounters at the gloomy Castle St. Clare to dissuade her.

He wants nothing to do with her.

Recently returned from the Continent, Lucien has no time for the English mouse his family has arranged for him to marry, not when he’s plotting to avenge the murder of his beloved Francesca. He has no intention of bedding Rosalind, not even to sire an heir.

Dark secrets will bind them.

Though spurned by her bridegroom, Rosalind turns to him for protection when she is plagued by a series of mysterious accidents and haunted by terrifying visions. Forced to keep Rosalind close, and tempted into passionate kisses, Lucien soon finds himself in grave danger of falling in love with his own wife…

Purchase from Carina Press
Would you like to review The Spurned Viscountess? Review copies are available from NetGalley

This week’s theme is scary, and I’ve picked a scene from my romantic suspense/mystery The Shadow.

The Shadow by Shelley Munro

A low growl was all the warning I received. I froze. Another growl made the hairs at the back of my neck stand and salute. Hell! A freaking dog. My heart thundered as I slowly turned.

The dog stood a few feet from me. Black. All teeth and fangs. Damn and blast. The damned thing hadn’t been here the three times I’d checked out the premises. And if the dog had a kennel, I hadn’t seen it. With slow, careful movements, I eased the pack from my back and fumbled with the zip. My hand closed around the doctored cheeseburger, and I let it fall to the ground at my feet. The dog sniffed the burger. It woofed the treat down in two bites before staring fixedly, perhaps debating if I were the second course. It growled. Father had assured me the sleeping pills would do the trick without hurting the dog. I hoped he knew what he was talking about. No sooner had the thought passed my mind then the dog swayed.

I bolted. The dog gave a feral growl and sprang. Fabric ripped. My steps faltered. For an instant, I panicked, but suddenly the dog let go. Without looking back, I sprinted to the back of the house, my legs pumping like a hundred-meter sprinter at the Olympic Games. I scampered up the sturdy vine I’d chosen and only then looked back, my chest burning for air. The dog lay still on the ground. I turned to survey the rip in my leggings and shifted uneasily. My backside smarted like the devil.

Smooth as silk.

Huh? Emily had read someone else’s cards, not mine.

I scaled the wall in no time at all, stubbornly ignoring the pain in my ass, and after pulling on a pair of gloves, entered the building via the nursery room window. Lucky for me the nursery was empty of all save the lingering scent of lemon furniture polish. I crept down to the next floor, but that’s when luck deserted me again.

A footfall sounded.

I froze, my heart hammering with alarm. There was someone at home. Laughter-both male and female. Had the husband returned? Why were they there with the lights off? Duh! Stupid question. It was obvious why the room was dark. Abort my mission or risk it? As I hesitated on the landing, I heard footsteps on the stairs. The front door opened.

“Darling, tomorrow night?” the man asked.

“Yes. James isn’t back until Friday,” Perdita replied.

Kissing followed-loud enough to make me roll my eyes. After what seemed like ages, the door shut again and soft footsteps sounded on the stairs.

What the hell was I going to do now? I thought about hitting her over the head, snatching the jewels and running. I mean, she was fooling around; she deserved everything that was coming. I considered the idea a bit longer and rejected it as stupid. A girl had to have some scruples. Physical violence was one of mine.

Before I’d made a decision, I heard the front door open again. Jeez! The place was like Paddington Station at rush hour. I hunkered down in my hiding place on the landing and waited to see what developed.

Stealthy footsteps padded up the stairs toward the bedroom where Perdita had entertained her lover. Surely not another one?

“What do you want?” I heard Perdita demand.

I crept from my dark corner but couldn’t see a damned thing. What now? I wondered in frustration. Did I try to get closer?

A scream. A gunshot. I heard the sound of a rapid retreat. The front door slammed, then there was silence. No more laughter. Not a single bloody sound. I hovered indecisively. Dithered, really. When everything remained silent, I cautiously crept toward Perdita’s bedroom.

When I was a few feet from the doorway, a cuckoo burst from its clock, nearly giving me a coronary. I leapt in fright but managed to hold back on the accompanying squeak. After my heart settled back in place, I slunk closer to the bedroom.

A little moonlight seeped in from outside, but I didn’t need illumination to tell something was badly wrong. I could smell it. An indescribable scent, layered with expensive perfume and sex, that I didn’t want to smell again in a hurry.

“Hello?” I whispered. It was no surprise to me that I sounded shit-scared. And not much of a surprise when no one answered. I fumbled for the light switch, not because I wanted to but because I had to know.

Blood.

Everywhere. It really stood out on the white satin sheets. I swallowed when I observed the very dead woman sprawled on the king-sized bed, and then gulped again when my stomach threatened to revolt. It was Perdita Moning, all right.

Strangled laughter sounded, and I was a bit surprised when I realized the sound came from me. Slightly hysterical. A little crazed. But hell, not every day a girl witnesses a murder.

Purchase at Amazon

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts follow the links below:

McKenna Jeffries
Vivian Arend
TJ Michaels
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Lauren Dane
Mari Carr
Eliza Gayle
Jody Wallace

I’m visiting Nikki Duncan’s blog today where I’m talking about traveling and books. There’s a download of Wanderlust up for grabs. Comment on my post and you’re in the draw.

I’m also doing a guest spot at The Romance Studio Blue about a particular weakness of mine–my total lack of a sense of direction. Just ask my husband.

Authors, a heads up. SingleTitles.com just relaunched, sporting a full site makeover and a contest to celebrate the new look. They’re offering up $450 worth of advertising as prizes. If you write romance, mystery or thrillers you should head over and check out. http://www.singletitles.com

My special guest today is Elaine Viets who is celebrating the release of her new book The Fashion Hound Murders: Josie Marcus, Mystery Shopper. Elaine says on her website that pop princesses have accessory animals, dogs so small they’re carried in high-priced purses. These pedigreed pups are dressed like dolls in designer clothes, jeweled collars and tiaras. But this pretty fad feeds an ugly demand: Too many accessory animals are born in puppy mills. “The Fashion Hound Murders,” her fifth Josie Marcus mystery shopper novel, is about this pet subject. Though the subject is serious, this mystery has laugh-out loud adventure and an upbeat ending.

Today Elaine tells us about her experience at a book signing. Over to Elaine…

The book signing sales were so-so. The chain store had done everything right: nice signs, a notice in the newsletter and a quiet place in the back to talk to readers. There were free cookies from the café, mostly uneaten. And a stack of unsold books.

“Must be the weather,” said the store manager.

Or the game on TV. Or some big event downtown. A so-so signing happens to every author. But I wanted to do something about it.

When the official signing was over, I asked the manager, “May I have a table by the door?”

“Why?” she said.

“Because I’m going to sell books,” I said.

We piled my books onto a V-cart and hauled them up front by the main door. We dragged over a table and a chair. I arranged my books on the table and my face into a smile. I was ready for the guerrilla signing – unplanned, unscheduled, no-holds-barred selling.

“Hi,” I said to the next customer through the door, “do you like mysteries?”

“No!” She scurried past as if I were trying to steal her purse.

But the second woman did like mysteries – especially new series. She bought a signed copy of my mystery, “High Heels Are Murder.”

The third woman said, “I’ll think about it.” I figured she was a lost cause, but ten minutes later she came back and bought a hardcover “Murder Unleashed” and a paperback “Shop Till You Drop.”

Guerrilla signings are not for the shy and sensitive. Expect rejection, even insults. “I don’t read genre crap,” sneered a woman.

The risks are worth it. If you like improv, you’ll have a good time – and so will your readers.

“How much do you get if I buy the hardcover?” said a man.

“Me, personally?” I said.

“Yep.”

“About two bucks a book.”

“And if I buy the paperback?” he said.

“About sixty cents,” I said.

“What if I just gave you the sixty cents direct?” he said.

“That would take all the fun out of it,” I said.

He laughed and bought the hardcover.

That’s another thing you learn at guerrilla signings – men buy hardcovers. Maybe it’s because they make more money, or they don’t budget, but men are more likely to buy hardcover novels on impulse. Women will buy a paperback, but hesitate to give themselves the luxury of a hardcover. They will, however, buy the hardcover for a gift.

“I’ll give this to my mother,” said one woman. “After I read it first.”

“Not in the bathtub,” I said.

“Will my fourteen-year-old daughter like this book?” a worried mother asked.

“It’s the most stolen book at an East Texas high school library,” I said.

Mom bought the book.

“Can I buy the whole set?” said another woman.

“Yes, ma’m. These aren’t fish. There’s no limit.”

She laughed. “In that case,” she said, “I’ll take a set for me and one for my sister.”

“I’ll take a set, too,” said the woman behind her.

That’s another rule – the more you make people laugh, the more they’ll buy.

Guerrilla signings can also be humiliating and boring. Sometimes they don’t work. I’ve spent two hours answering questions about how to find an agent and pointing people toward the restroom.

But this time, the guerrilla signing was a success. I tripled my book sales. The store was delighted. And I had a good time. My favorite sale was to a man in his thirties with a boyish grin.

“If I buy this book, will it get me sex with my girlfriend?” he asked.

“I can’t say, sir. But I guarantee you’ll make one woman happy.”

He bought the book.

To learn more about Elaine’s Josie Marcus, Mystery Shopper series and her Dead-End Job series visit her website. You’ll also find excerpts for each of her books. The Fashion Hound Murders: Josie Marcus, Mystery Shopper came out on 3 November and is now available to purchase. Pick up your copy today!

I have Erika Scott visiting today, and she’s talking about her recent vampire release, Chalice.

Ericka Scott is a multi-published best-selling author of seductive suspense. She’s written stories for as long as she can remember and reads anything under the sun (including the back of cereal boxes in a pinch). She got hooked on romantic suspense in her college days, when reading anything but a textbook was a guilty pleasure. Now, when she’s not chauffeuring children around, wishing she had a maid, or lurking at the library, she’s spinning her own web of fantasy and penning tales of seduction and suspense.

She currently lives in Southern California with her husband and three children.
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