Taste of Kiwi

The theme for this week is a black moment. I’ve chosen an excerpt from my Quickie, Issy’s Infatuation. It’s not the main black moment of the book, but it’s definitely a bad turn of events for the heroine, Issy.

Issy’s Infatuation by Shelley Munro

“Good luck, Issy.” Tyler squeezed her shoulder, leaning close for an instant, so close she thought he might actually kiss her in front of everyone. “You can do this.”

Issy nodded and hoped he was right. She jogged on the spot, trying to keep warm. A place in the Black Ferns. It was what she’d aimed for and dreamed of ever since she’d started playing for the Jets. Tyler had diverted her for a while but now that their time was over, she was back on track. Issy fell in with her teammates when the fifteen-strong team ran onto the field. The sun made an appearance but it was still bloody cold, gooseflesh rippling across her arms and legs. Her stomach lurched, the nerves still present. From experience she knew they wouldn’t settle properly until she’d had her first touch of the ball. Here’s hoping she didn’t flub it.

The referee blew his whistle. The Jets’ first-five kicked off and the rugby ball flew through the air. Issy sprinted in the same direction. One of the Panthers leapt for the ball but a Jet player contested it, reaching high to grab the ball first. They hit the ground and a ruck formed. It probably looked like a heap of bodies to the spectators but Issy’s team were skilled at passing the ball back underneath the tangle of bodies. The ball came out on the Jets’ side of the ruck. The crowd roared approval. Issy grabbed it, flicking the white ball along the back line. She sprinted down the field, backing up. Angela, their winger, kicked the ball over the heads of the opposition and it dribbled out over the sideline not far from the corner flag.

Issy hurried into position and waited for the lineout to form and the opposition hooker to take the throw in. From the corner of her eye she noted Tyler chatting to three men. The selectors. Issy looked away to concentrate on the unfolding game. She had to ignore them and play out of her skin. She ran, darted after the Panther player when they tried to make a break. Issy tackled the opposition player. The player fell and the ball popped free. Issy snatched it up and sprinted toward their goal line. A Panther ran at her, tackled.

It was bone-crunching hard, jarring her whole body. Their heads clashed. Issy’s world went dark. It was like crawling out of a long black tunnel. Very dark and later, seconds or maybe minutes, light appeared. The players had followed the ball, leaving her behind on the ground. They were way down the other end of the field. Damn, they were fuzzy, moving all over the place. Groggily, she climbed slowly to her feet. She wobbled, staggering a few steps. Issy shook her head and saw stars. She dropped to the ground, deciding to wait until the stars stopped whirring before she attempted to stand on her feet again.
Dimly, she heard the whistle, heard the thunder of feet racing toward her.

“Issy? Issy, sweetheart, are you okay?” It sounded like Tyler, but she wasn’t sure since the voice was so far away.

“Wanna stand up.” Issy struggled to a sitting position and someone helped her stand.

“Let me look at her,” another voice said. “Open your eyes for me. That’s a girl.”

What did he mean? Her eyes were open.

“Hmm. Lights are on, but nobody’s home,” the voice said. “Concussion. Looked to me as if she actually blacked out for a little while. She can’t play the rest of the game. She needs to get checked out at the emergency clinic.”

Go off? No way! “Not going off.” Issy turned, intending to rejoin the game when the referee signaled time back on. Instead she almost fell flat on her face and would have fallen if someone hadn’t caught her. Tears trickled down her face. She couldn’t go off. She couldn’t. The selectors wouldn’t choose her if they couldn’t see her play. “I want to play.”

“You can’t.” Tyler signaled to the reserve players and one of them ran onto the field to replace Issy. He did it with a heavy heart, knowing how gutted Issy must feel.

“I want to go back on,” Issy protested.

“You can’t even stand on your own, Issy.” Adam slipped his arm around her and guided her to the sideline.

Tyler followed, hearing the referee’s whistle when he signaled play to resume. Hell, poor Issy. A lump formed in his throat when he studied her pale face. It was easy to see she wasn’t sure what was going on yet, that the full disappointment wouldn’t hit until later. Damn, this wasn’t bloody fair. She’d trained so hard and done everything right only for an injury to rob her of the chance to impress the selectors.

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To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts, follow the links below:

Emma Petersen
McKenna Jeffries
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Lauren Dane
Mari Carr
Lissa Matthews
TJ Michaels
Elisabeth Naughton
Juliana Stone
Taige Crenshaw
Eliza Gayle

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The theme for this week is shopping, and I’ve chosen an excerpt from my gay romance Last Wish. Dillon, our hero, is tasked with buying a silver teapot for his mother’s birthday. He ends up with a lot more than a teapot…

Susan peered into the box. Cobwebs and what looked like mice droppings covered most of the articles inside. “Buy the whole box,” she said in an undertone. “The salt shaker and goblets are nice. Mum will like them. Just wipe the worst of the dust off. Let Mum do the real cleaning. She’ll get a kick out of it.”

“Okay. Ah, here’s the stallholder now.”

“Later,” she said, standing on tiptoe to give him a quick peck on the cheek before speeding away.

Dillon turned to the stallholder, an elderly man who teetered toward him with the aid of a walking stick. “How much for the box of stuff?”

The man gave it a cursory glance and sniffed. “I picked the box up at an estate sale. I can give it to you for one hundred and fifty bucks.”

“One-fifty? For this?” Hell, he wasn’t sure he had that much money in his wallet. “How about one-twenty?”
He knew he had that much for sure.

“Done!” The man grinned, flashing a large gap where two front teeth were missing. The gleam in the man’s eyes made him wonder if he’d made a mistake in offering that much. Too late now. He grabbed his wallet from the rear pocket of his jeans and handed over the money. The man grinned again and he noticed one of his bottom teeth was missing as well. The man stuffed the money in his pocket and started to pack up his stall.

“Are you leaving already?”

“My work here is done,” the man said, his rapid moves belying Dillon’s initial guess at his age. He didn’t lean as heavily on his stick. It was as if he were in an almighty hurry. “Here. Take your box.” The man’s curt words confirmed it.

Dillon placed the saltshaker and the goblets back on top of the box and lifted it. In bemusement, he watched the man load his fold-up table, a chair and his remaining stock into the back of a utility vehicle. He shook his head, wondering at the man’s weird behavior. Still at least he had the silver and was in Susan’s good books. For a change. He smirked and moved out of the man’s way, coughing at the wave of dust kicked up by the vehicle when it sped away. Turning away, he juggled the box on his hip. The contents shifted inside, clinking together with a metallic ring. The distinct rumbling of his stomach reminded him he hadn’t eaten for a while. He’d grab brunch at one of the cafes in the square before heading for home and tracking down the rogue who’d loosed the virus on his computer. Revenge was gonna be sweet.

Dillon took two steps and the bottom fell out of his box. Metallic pieces rained down on his feet and hit the ground, rolling in all directions. The saltshaker plopped onto his right boot. “Ow. Bloody hell.” He hopped on one foot and scrambled to gather his new purchases, hoping like hell he hadn’t dented anything too badly.

Susan would kill him, and it wasn’t as if he could hide the evidence. She seemed to know—probably her mother skills coming out. Unfortunately he seemed to end up on her radar system no matter how hard he tried to extract himself.

Not a single stallholder in sight. Not a box or a bag within snatching range. With an impatient sigh, he started to assess the damage. Using the hem of his T-shirt, he rubbed pieces of grass and dust off the blackened silver, giving each piece a perfunctory glance. Finally he stood. Yep, he’d managed to grab them all. Apart from one. He squatted and picked up the piece, a slow grin of delight curling across his lips when he turned it over in his hands. Well, heck. What do ya know? A teapot. A strange-looking one but definitely a teapot his mother would love. When it came to collecting, unusual was good—according to his mother at any rate.

The pot had four chubby legs and a long arching spout. Small hidden hinges attached the lid, and the body of the pot matched its chubby legs. Dillon picked it up and stood to check the bottom for silver marks. He rubbed it briskly and softly exhaled when he saw the requisite symbols. Bingo. He rubbed a fraction harder across the belly of the pot to clean off a smudge of dirt. Without warning a puff of smoke curled from the spout. He blinked. The smoke grew in volume. Multicolored in pink, red, silver, gold and green, it reminded him of a fireworks display but on a smaller scale and without the accompanying explosions. Slowly the dazzling smoke coalesced into the body of a man. Dillon blinked again but when the muscular man remained, he wanted to lick his lips. Oh yeah. Why the hell couldn’t he meet a man like this in Sumner?

He rubbed his eyes with the hand not holding the teapot and focused again. The man was still there. It wasn’t his overactive imagination acting out. At least he didn’t think so. He reached out to touch, positive the tip of his finger would shatter the hot vision standing right in front of him. He’d almost made contact when the vision spoke.

“Huh!” The man scanned the area before turning his gaze back on him. “Looks like you’re it. One wish and be quick about it. One wish—that’s all that remains on my contract. One wish and I’m free. So, come on. What’s it gonna be? Time’s a wastin’.”

Dillon stared, only half taking in the man’s husky and hurried words. His free hand dropped to his side. More struck by the muscular body of the attractive man standing impatiently in front of him than interested in his words, he continued to study him closely. A genie? Instead of wearing genie-type garb, the man wore a gray polo shirt and tight black jeans. Silver bands decorated his wrists, catching the late morning sun and shining brightly with each movement of his hands. His clothing clung to his body, highlighting his broad chest, lean hips and muscular legs. He guessed without looking the stranger would have a tight, firm ass. Sort of went with the territory. His tan face contained determination, not handsome but arresting with sharp angles and soft lips. Black hair, long and thick, curled in haphazard manner over his shoulders. Dark stubble shaded his strong jaw while a silver ring pierced one ear. Blue eyes glittered from beneath dark brows. Dillon’s gaze slipped to his mouth. Oh yeah. Talk about sin…that soft mouth was made for kissing.

Dillon shuddered, his brain freezing and refusing to move onward. Every muscle in his body tensed as he imagined how that luscious mouth would feel curled around his cock, working it. Teasing. Stroking. Sucking.

“Hello. Hello?” The man clicked his fingers in front of Dillon’s face. “A simpleton.” Pure disgust distorted the sensual curve of his mouth. “My contract’s almost done, one wish left to issue, and I get the village idiot.”

Purchase Last Wish @ Ellora’s Cave
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To read more excerpts follow the Snippet Saturday links below:

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

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This month All Romance eBooks is running a campaign for heart health. Twenty-eight authors (myself included) have donated short stories and all the proceeds go to the American Heart Association. I thought this week I’d cover snippets about heart health.

Thirteen Things About Hearts and Heart Health

1. The heart is a hard-working organ that pumps oxygen-carrying blood through the body. It functions like two pumps in one. One pump controls the flow of blood from the heart to the lungs where carbon dioxide waste is exchanged for fresh oxygen. The other pump sends the blood to cells through out the body.

2. Heart disease is one of the biggest causes of death.

3. It takes about one minute for a drop of blood to travel from the heart down to your toes and back again.

4. The heart pumps around five litres of blood a minute during rest periods and up to 33 litres per minute during exercise.

5. If you have a family history of heart disease, your chances of suffering a heart attack are increased.

6. Some factors such as smoking, excess weight, diabetes, high blood pressure, sedentary lifestyle, high blood fats, and excessive stress also make a person susceptible to heart attacks.

7. The heart muscle needs to be strong to pump blood around the body efficiently, which is why it’s necessary to exercise.

8. Common symptoms of a heart attack include sudden severe chest pain that may spread to the arm, neck, shoulder or lower jaw; nausea, changed or erratic pulse, pale or bluish skin, sudden perspiration, shortness of breath and a feeling of heaviness or a squeezing pressure around the chest.

9. If you suspect someone is having a heart attack call emergency services (911 in the US – 111 in New Zealand). Make the person comfortable and keep their activity to a minimum. Stay with the person and be prepared to do CPR if necessary.

10. A Dutch study found that eating fish on a regular basis (2 – 3 servings per week) cuts the chances of fatal heart disease in half. The French claim drinking red wine fights heart disease because of the high level of flavonoids.

11. It’s said garlic can not only deter artery clogging but may even heal destroyed arteries.

12. Reduce your risk of heart disease by quitting smoking, exercising regularly, keeping weight within normal limits, maintaining a low-fat diet, learning how to deal with stress effectively and keeping a check on blood pressure and blood cholesterol levels. Finally, enjoy a balanced lifestyle.

13. Purchase one or more of the 28 stories in the 28 Days of Heart series from All Romance eBooks. There are a variety of genres available including contemporary, historical, paranormal and gay romances.

My story is called Wild Child.

Here’s the blurb:

Seize the day…

Zoë Underwood loved Matt Cantrell from the moment her mother married his father. She definitely thinks of him as more than a big brother and even though he moved away from home the moment their parents got married, her feelings for him have grown stronger, bigger. More. No one presses her buttons like the tall, dark and gorgeous Matt. If only he can get over the eight-year age difference.

Now, Zoë is determined to snare her man. She wants one thing—Matt’s love. It’s time for her to make a move, stir things up a little and take a chance on love.

Purchase Wild Child by Shelley Munro

My husband is on medication to control both his blood pressure and cholesterol and we try to live a fairly healthy lifestyle. Red wine is strictly medicinal

Do you have a history of heart disease in your family?

Visit the Thursday Thirteen Hub.

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The theme for this week is paying homage to an artist. I’ll admit that I needed to dig deep and think hard about this theme. In the end I decided on an excerpt from my paranormal romance, Currents Run Deep, where the heroine is singing some of Norah Jones’ trademark songs. In fact just thinking about Norah Jones has inspired me to go and dig out my Norah Jones’ CDs. Meantime….come away with me to a smoky nightclub…

Currents Run Deep by Shelley Munro

Well hello, gorgeous. Asia Bolino tried not to stare and slid slowly into the Norah Jones number, following the cue from the accompanying musician. Her heart shifted into an erratic gallop while a wave of heat engulfed her body. Turn around, she pleaded silently. Oh looking good. Go on. Turn right around. Let me get a good look at you…

Aw, rats! Disappointment throbbed through her voice before she pulled herself together and continued smoothly singing the song. She knew that face, and the man was off limits. Way off limits.

Roman Anderson. What was he doing slumming in the Blue Venetian nightclub?

Her mother would have a conniption if she became involved with an Anderson. Ah well. No harm appreciating the view. Because there was no getting away from it—the man was a fine specimen. To hear her family talk, he was the devil incarnate, but jeepers, the man oozed sex appeal. She inhaled sharply as she viewed his rear end. Yep, he looked good from all angles.

Asia held the final note before letting it trail away. The music ended, and she smiled at the audience, graciously accepting the applause with a regal incline of her head.

Roman Anderson was not the man for her. She sighed, accepting the truth but not liking it. Feuds were the pits, especially when they limited the gene pool for shapeshifters like her. The warring between the Transient Orcas and the Resident Orcas was stupid and meaningless in these modern times, but Asia knew there were those who actively encouraged the rift between the tribes.

The introductory bars of another Norah Jones favorite pulled Asia back to professionalism. She started to sing in her trademark smoky voice, pleading the audience to come away with her. The low buzz of chatter in the nightclub faded, letting Asia know she was doing a good job. She let her eyes drift closed, threw back her head and poured her heart out in the music. For the three minutes of the song, she held the audience enthralled. The music faded and for a heartbeat there was total silence before the applause broke out.

Asia’s eyes popped open. She grinned broadly and bowed from the waist, giving the group of businessmen at the front table, Roman Anderson included, an excellent view of her creamy cleavage. She straightened, snagging Roman’s gaze for a long, drawn-out moment. He closed one brown eye in a wink and grinned at her, robbing her of breath.

Maybe he was adopted. She could corrupt him, she thought, taking half a step toward him before commonsense kicked in.

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Purchase in Kindle Format

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts following the links below:

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

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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.

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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

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The theme for today is dumped. I’ve chosen the opening scene from Lovers at Last. Our heroine goes to her best friend for sympathy after the man she’s been with for some time decides to marry someone else. Justin is very happy with this development because he’s had his eye on Pearl for some time. It’s time to make his move!

Lovers at Last by Shelley Munro

A thump on Justin Collet’s door jerked his attention from the Auckland versus Canterbury rugby match playing on his television. Before he could push to his feet, he heard his front door fly open and hit the stopper. Seconds later it slammed shut. The strident tap-tap of high heels echoed in the hall and Pearl MacInray stomped into his den. Justin took a moment to admire the temper glowing on her face, the flashing pale blue eyes and golden tumble of curls before doing a scan of her curvy body. Immediately he tensed, his cock shooting to partial arousal. Damn, she was one fine woman. Pity they were merely friends. Pearl came to a halt in front of him, magnificent breasts heaving with the force of her ire.

“Andrew Dickins is a bastard,” Pearl spat out, shaking her fist in Justin’s face. Something white and thin flashed past his nose, almost hitting him in the eye.

Justin stood, moving out of range. “Wanna beer?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Pearl dropped onto his battered leather couch, her miniskirt riding up to display a good portion of black stocking. Justin knew she wore stockings because he caught a glimpse of pale, creamy thigh before she tugged her black skirt down. Hot damn. This woman was gonna be the death of him. He wondered why Andrew Dickins was a bastard and decided he didn’t really give a damn. If the man’s behavior meant he could spend time with Pearl, Justin was all for it. His cock stirred again at the thought.

He strode into his kitchen, giving himself a swift lecture about friends only. Didn’t work. Hell, he’d given up trying to listen to commonsense. Let lust rule. The few beers he’d had after work with his mates were enough to blunt his normal restraint when it came to Pearl. Somehow he couldn’t find it in himself to give a fuck about breaking his self-imposed rule. Maybe it was time he made a move on her. There was more in life than work. Yeah. He’d done the work thing and was doing fuckin’ nicely, thank you very much. Time for another challenge. He opened his fridge and grabbed two beers, pausing to collect a glass for Pearl before returning to his den.

When he stalked up to his couch, Pearl was muttering to herself, her hand clenching and relaxing on something white. A string of pearls. His lips pursed in a silent whistle. Big bucks.

One of her lovers had dropped a pile of money on her. Considering the magnificent gift, he wondered what had bent Pearl out of shape. Last time he’d seen her this angry, it was because her lover at the time had refused to take direction. Justin snorted. Any man who couldn’t find a woman’s clit had no business making love to a stunner like Pearl. She should have told him to fuck off without a second chance.

“Here you go, babe.” Justin handed over the dew-frosted can and glass before sinking onto the couch beside her. He tipped back his head, enjoying the crisp taste of hops dancing across his tongue. Beer, woman and rugby. Hot damn. His night was lookin’ up.

“You come to watch the rugby, or do you want to shoot the breeze?” he asked finally, more to stop her fidgeting and muttering than anything else. Knowing Pearl, he was gonna hear about whatever ailed her no matter what he said.

“Andrew gave me these pearls.” Pearl shook them in his face again.

Justin ducked out of range. That was a bad thing? “I thought you liked jewelry.” Although he’d known Pearl since high school, sometimes he couldn’t fathom the way her mind worked. Women. Shit, he’d never understand them, which was probably why he’d stuck to short-term relationships. That and because he lusted after Pearl, couldn’t imagine being with anyone else for the long haul.

“I’ve been with Andrew for a year. He took me to dinner with his partners. When he told me he was giving me something special, I thought it was a diamond engagement ring.” Her breasts rose and fell, attracting his attention again. Damn, she was fine.

“And?” he prompted, suspecting there was more.

“I thought he’d ask me to marry him, but instead, he gave me this stupid pearl necklace. ‘Pearls for a special Pearl.’ That’s what he said, and then the louse told me he intended to marry Janie Gilroy.”

“Bastard,” Justin said while feeling elation inside. He didn’t like the idea of Pearl marrying anyone.

“Yeah,” Pearl muttered. “A pearl necklace. You’d think males could be more original. Men keep giving me stupid pearls and I want diamonds,” she ended on a wail.

“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” Justin said uneasily. He’d been through one of her crying jags before and didn’t want to repeat the experience. A man could only take so much before he broke.

A single tear ran down her face, melting him inside. He set his beer aside, took her glass from her and pulled her against his side. A strand of golden blonde hair tickled his nose and he tucked it behind her ear, kissing the tip of her pert nose. “You smell nice.”

“A present from Andrew,” she said with a sniff.

“Bloody Andrew,” Justin said, knowing it would make her laugh.

“Yeah, ‘bloody Andrew’,” she parroted with a watery smile.

Lovers at Last (ebook)
Lovers at Last (kindle)
Provocative Pearl (print)

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
Shelli Stevens
Lissa Matthews
Eliza Gayle

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This week’s theme is humor. One thing I notice in most of my reviews is the mention of humor. I don’t set out to write humor, but it appears to creep in when I’m not looking. My excerpt is taken from my debut Ellora’s Cave title, Talking Dogs, Aliens and Purple People Eaters.

Talking Dogs, Aliens and Purple People Eaters by Shelley Munro

“We’re gonna crash. Buckle up.”

“What?” Janaya spun around to gape at her aunt, Hinekiri. One look told her the truth. Hinekiri wasn’t teasing.

Janaya gulped and scowled out a porthole at the rapidly approaching blue planet and muttered a succinct curse, trying to halt her escalating panic. Tendrils of icy fear curled around her insides. Her worst fear come to life. “I thought you said this…this antique had plenty of life yet.” She fumbled with the harness straps and another weak curse slipped out when the ship plunged into white, fluffy clouds sending her stomach swooping toward her toes.

“Ah, good.” Her aunt’s voice held satisfaction, despite their impending doom. “You worked your way through the Earth-speak tapes.”

Janaya stared at her aunt, speechless for an instant, before her gaze slid past the porthole once more. She swallowed and imagined shaking Hinekiri until her teeth rattled and good sense reigned. The image didn’t ease her panic any.

“We’re gonna bloody crash,” Janaya shrieked. “Pay attention. What do I do? I don’t know anything about flying this bucket of bolts. I’m a bodyguard.”

“Yes, dear, and I’m very proud of you.”

“Hinekiri!” The only reason she’d boarded this ship was because fear for her aunt’s life was greater than her dislike of flying. She was beginning to regret her impulse big time.

“I said we were crashing,” her aunt said. “I don’t believe I mentioned death.”

“You… When we land, I’m going to damage you,” Janaya gritted out.

“Tsk-tsk.” Her aunt waggled her forefinger while she nonchalantly maneuvered the manual steering controls. The ship groaned in loud protest and if anything, they picked up in speed. “I thought you stowed away to protect me from the bad guys.” A teasing grin flashed, lighting up her lined face. “Not do their dirty work for them.”

“Tell. Me. What. To. Do.” They were gonna die. Janaya was sure of it. She’d never live to set foot on Dalcon again. She’d never get the captain’s promotion she was aiming for, the promotion she’d earned by sheer hard work. And Santana would find someone else.

“Harness up and let me concentrate.”

Tension seeped through Janaya’s body, finding an outlet in her white-knuckled grip, as she watched her aunt calmly prepare to crash.

“I thought you said most of the Earth’s surface is water,” she blurted, her gaze darting from the porthole on her right to her aunt and back.

“That’s right, dear.”

“Are we going to land in water?”

Her aunt looked up from the panel of controls and frowned. “Can’t you swim?”

Janaya bit her bottom lip to keep the curse that trembled on her tongue contained. “Yes, I can swim.” The quirk of Hinekiri’s top lip gave her away, and Janaya’s shallow breaths eased out with a relieved hiss.

Chances were good that her aunt was…ah yes…pulling her leg. When she stood with both feet firmly on the ground again, she’d feel more in charge. After an aggrieved glare at her aunt, she amended the thought. Maybe not.

“Assume crash position.”

Janaya stared at her aunt. Then with morbid fascination, her gaze drifted to the bridge view port. Instead of the water she’d expected, she saw land. Flashes of green, trees, then a sea of gold.

The initial impact jolted her body and clacked her teeth together. Behind her, something crashed to the floor—probably one of the stupid Earth-speak tapes her aunt had insisted she view and assimilate. The ship hurtled off the ground then hit again.

“He-haw!” her aunt shouted, one hand raised in the air, her wiry body riding the impact despite the constraints of her harness.

Janaya lacked the same exhilaration as they bounced across the ground barely missing a large tree. The sturdy branches gouged the protective outer shell of their ship as they zipped past.

“I’ll try for up in those hills.” Her aunt jabbed at the controls, and the ship responded sluggishly before hurtling to the ground again. Trees and hills passed in front of Janaya’s horrified eyes.

What felt like hours later but was probably only a matter of minutes, they settled feet short of a dilapidated building, up on the hill. The stench of metal fatigue lay heavy in the air.

“I need to stand on the ground,” Janaya muttered. “Now. Is it safe?” Nausea worked up her throat. In a panic, clumsy fingers clawed at the restraining harness. In the end, her aunt leaned over to release the lever.

“No problems with the atmosphere here,” her aunt said. “New Zealand, according to my charts. Clean and green.”

Janaya needed no further urging. She stumbled out the door, dragging in huge breaths of fresh air until her lungs ached. Gradually, the panic attack subsided leaving her shaky and embarrassed. Make that mortified.

Thank the Gods her aunt had been the only witness.

Hinekiri strode down the narrow exit steps from the ship and stopped beside her. She patted Janaya on the shoulder in a silent gesture of comfort. “Janaya, we need to camouflage the ship so the Earth people don’t stumble across it.”

“All right. I—” The small hairs at the back of her neck prickled to life. Janaya stilled, her eyes narrowing as her gaze swiveled to survey the area around the ship. Her hand slid toward her hip.

“Back on the ship,” she snapped to her aunt as she pulled her weapon free. “Now.”

To her right, the leaves of a fern shuddered. Janaya scented the air. Sweat. Torgon sweat.

“Come on out with your fingers poked inside your ears,” she ordered, aiming her neutralizing weapon at the dark green bushes that had moved.

“That would be, hands in the air,” her aunt said.

Janaya shrugged, not taking her eyes off the leafy plant. “What ever. I have a weapon. Come out.”

The fern leaves shook, dried leaves crackled underfoot. Janaya’s outstretched hand never wavered, the heavy weapon still pointing at the bushes.

“Don’t shoot.” A black nose thrust past a lacy fern leaf.

Janaya’s eyes widened.

A black face with black eyes poked into view. “Are ya gonna shoot?”

“Janaya put the weapon down. It’s a dog. Nothing to get trigger happy about.”

“Yeah,” the little dog said. It stepped into full view. The dog stood below knee height and had white fur peppered liberally with black spots. It trotted closer, tail wagging. “Do ya have any food?”

Talking Dogs, Aliens and Purple People Eaters is the first book in the Talking Dogs series. Purchase from Ellora’s Cave.

To read more excerpts follow the Snippet Saturday links below:

McKenna Jeffries
Vivian Arend
TJ Michaels
Kelly Maher
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Lauren Dane
Mari Carr
Shelli Stevens
Lissa Matthews

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This week’s theme is mistaken identity, and I’ve chosen an excerpt from my romantic suspense Playing to Win.

Playing to Win by Shelley Munro

“Damn, that feels soooo good.”

Kate Alexander grinned and worked steadily, competent hands gliding over her client’s powerful body, massaging knots from tight muscles until each breath the man took was deep and even and relaxed.

Forest birdsong and the bubble of flowing water poured through concealed speakers in the corner of the dimly lit room. A tea candle flickered under a bowl of scented water, steam rising to release floral notes of lavender and exotic sandalwood.

Without warning, the strident demand of a doorbell shattered the calm oasis. Pried from her deep concentration, Kate dug her fingernails into the muscle of her client’s right calf.

He jerked awake with a grunt, wincing. “Ow! Whaz’s wrong?”

“Sorry, Adam.” Kate made a soothing sound and continued with feather-soft stroking until he relaxed again, but her attention had fractured and she glared in the direction of her front door. The sign in the middle of her door was clear enough for even a child to understand. Aromatherapist at work. Do not interrupt.

The bell rang again with three staccato bursts. A brief interval later, deafening thumps echoed through her inner sanctum. Kate cursed under her breath and eased the massage to an end. She wiped her hands on a towel to remove the last traces of oil and shrugged off her pale green protective coverall. “I’m sorry. I don’t think my caller can read.”

Adam glanced over his shoulder, flashing a grin as he pushed up and secured a towel around his waist. He checked the clock hanging on the far wall. “No problem. It’s time for me to leave anyway. My last scenes are being filmed tonight and the makeup artists need plenty of time to make me look pretty.” He chuckled, enjoying the joke at his own expense.

Kate smiled at the well-known Auckland actor. If anything, they used the makeup to downplay his boyish blond looks. At least that’s what his wife and her best friend Danielle said. “Thanks. Tell Danielle I’ll call her later in the week.”

“Sure thing, sweet pea.”

She left Adam to dress, closing the door between her sanctum and the hallway. The impatient hammering continued unabated. For the love of Pete! Her white runners slapped against the tiled floor as she rushed to answer. Probably Jamie and he’d forgotten his key again…

Kate jerked the door open. “Jamie, what…?” Her words trailed off when she came face-to-face with a stranger. Tall, he loomed over her, his dark hair and tetchy expression reminding her of a thundercloud. Admittedly a very sexy one. She gaped at the enigmatic man trying to read him, for some unknown reason fascinated with learning what had ruffled his day. “Can I help you?”

The impassive mask slipped momentarily and she read the flush of displeasure high on his cheekbones, in his glittering eyes. Tightly leashed emotion radiated from him in waves and alarm seeped through her. Kate shifted uneasily before common sense told her to stop being stupid. Help was a call away. Still, as his broad shoulders angled closer, she inched backward, pleased Adam was still here. Her slow retreat didn’t go unnoticed. The hard planes of the man’s face tightened and he observed her closely like a predator stalking prey. Pewter-gray eyes fixed her with cool speculation then, just like a light switching off, his face blanked.

Her skin tingled under the scrutiny and, to her chagrin, the sensation wasn’t entirely nerves. The sexy thundercloud thing. She shuffled her feet again, barely resisting the urge to check the buttons on her cream blouse were correctly fastened. Adam would make an appearance soon. She hoped. Heck, if she reacted to a grumpy stranger like this, celibacy was definitely doing something weird to her hormones. Dark, rich chocolate had worked as a sexual substitute in the past. She’d grab a chocolate bar from the pantry the minute the man left.

Kate conducted a quick, edgy survey of her own. He appeared well groomed, wearing an expensive suit that probably cost more than she earned in a month. She was positive she’d never seen him before. The man would make a lasting impression with most people. He bore an innate charisma, not traditionally handsome or striking like Adam, but intensely masculine. His powerful build coupled with strong, dark features demanded attention, but it was the mesmerizing gray eyes surrounded by lush lashes that would make a woman take a second look. And long to run her fingers through his silky hair. Her survey swept his body from top to bottom and back again.

Oops. Her mouth dropped open when her gaze collided with a cool gray one. Piercing eyes shot salvos of exasperation at her, as if he were impatient to complete an unpleasant chore. Kate racked her brain trying to work out why he was here demanding entrance, wrinkling her brow in concentration. Maybe he had the wrong house?

“Katherine Alexander?” he drawled.

Kate’s heart sank. Not the wrong house after all. And why would it be? Everything about him radiated self-assurance. For a brief moment, she considered shutting the door in his arrogant face, but a speculative glance at the muscled shoulders filling out his charcoal-colored designer suit changed her mind. Not a viable option. Kate sensed he didn’t intend to leave until he’d gained exactly what he wanted. Whatever that was.

“I’m Kate Alexander,” she admitted with a touch of caution.

Purchase Playing to Win

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpt follow the links below:

McKenna Jeffries
Vivian Arend
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Mari Carr
Shelli Stevens

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A book is a sum of things—characters, setting and description, dialogue, pace and plot. It’s the combination of all of these elements, done in the right way that makes a book exciting and sought after by readers.

It takes a lot of work to get a book to a standard that’s saleable. My first drafts are like white boxes. People inhabit the white box—my characters that is, but they’re quiet and in shock from the lack of scenery. It’s all white in there, after all.

During the first stages, my characters are a bit superficial and half the time they have no idea what they’re doing, what their purpose is in the box. It’s almost like the first run through of a play where the cast are strangers and feeling their way into their parts.

It’s during the second and third run through that I add the color and turn my white box into a real world, complete with real people. Adding setting and description is a skill I’ve fought to learn—it certainly doesn’t come naturally.

Not so long ago, it was normal to read very flowery descriptions in books. These days descriptions in fiction are briefer and spare at times.

Here’s a paragraph from Powder and Patch by Georgette Heyer.

The Apparition wore a coat of the palest apricot cloth, with a flowered vest of fine brocade, and startling white small-clothes. Red-heeled shoes were on his feet, and his stockings were adorned by sprawling golden clocks. He carried an amber-clouded can and a jeweled snuff-box, while ever and anon he raised a cobwebby handkerchief to his aristocratic nose. He minced down the street towards the market-place, followed by the awestricken glances of an amazed population.

That’s a lot of description for one person, although I have to say I’d love to see him in person. You probably won’t find this amount of description in a modern romance, not focused on one person. We’re more likely to add it in more sparingly in bits and pieces.

This snippet is taken from Dark Lover by JR Ward.

When she was finished with the Twinkie, she flipped open her phone, hit speed dial, and put in an order for beef with broccoli. As she walked along, she looked at the familiar, grim landmarks. Along this stretch of Trade Street, there were only bars, strip clubs, and the occasional tattoo parlor. The Chinese food place and the Tex-Mex buffet were the only two restaurants. The rest of the buildings, which had been used as offices in the twenties, when downtown had been thriving, were vacant. She knew every crack in the sidewalk; she could time the traffic lights. And the patois of sounds drifting out of open doors and windows offered no surprises either.

With this paragraph, we get a little characterization along with a feel for the neighborhood. We learn that although the district is run down, the place is home for our heroine.

In another book, that shall remain nameless, the description of a room sounded like a shopping list. It mentioned an antique rug, hardwood floors, a Victorian sofa and the color of the brocade, a coffee table and the type of wood, the silver tea service on top, two Victorian chairs, a gas fireplace, silver-framed photo frames, the photos inside them, the mantelpiece, a cherry and glass counter and quite a few other things.

The actual story wasn’t too bad, but this description, done list style, made me roll my eyes. I’ve edited the list quite a bit. The descriptions took up over half a page.

What I try to do is show the character experiencing the setting, give sensory details. I show them walking across a thick carpet and wondering if their shoes are going to get lost in the pile or holding out their hands to catch snowflakes, feeling the cold and dampness or tasting it melt on their tongue. They might notice the cars buried in snow or hear the chains on the tires as they fight for purchase. I try to involve the character’s senses of sight, touch, taste, smell and hearing to make the description come alive.

Here’s a paragraph taken from Tea For Two by Shelley Munro

“I see a line of dots.” Hayley Williams peered solemnly into her customer’s white china teacup. Outside her colorful curtain-partitioned area of the tea tent, children shrieked with excitement as they lined up for the Ferris wheel and merry-go-round. Her assistant chatted to one of the ladies in charge of the tea, extolling the high points of a reading by Madam Deveraux. Somewhere in the distance, a toddler howled and a brass band played “Rock Around the Clock”. Closer, touts shouted spasmodically about the exciting things available at their stalls. The clatter of china and the muted gossip of the ladies in the makeshift café added to the cacophony of fairground sounds.

For me this is actually quite a long description, but I hope it plops you right in the middle of a fairground.

When it comes to describing characters, I’m typically very brief because as a reader, I like to imagine myself as the heroine. If there’s too much description I think it gets in the way of my imagination. Just a brief hair color, eyes, build etc is all I need. You might think differently.

How much description do you like to read in your books? Do you like lots of description or a bare minimum? Do you like detailed description of characters? And writers: what approach do you use when it comes to description? Do you have a white box like me or is your world colorful from the start?

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Today’s theme is pets or animals. My Middlemarch books are full of feline shifters. My Talking Dog books feature Killer, the talking dog, but today I have an excerpt from Lynx to the Pharaoh. The hero in Lynx to the Pharaoh is a caracal shifter.

Lynx to the Pharaoh by Shelley Munro

As a caracal, he tested the air. Along with the storm and the myriad scents from the oasis, he smelled the campfires of the English tourists. Sethmet had visited them already in his position as family head, hiring out his guiding services in order to keep an eye on them—a case where his years of education in England helped. Amusement flicked through his mind when he recalled his loud protests about leaving Egypt. Now with a few years of added maturity, he recognized the benefits to both him and his family.

A burst of wind whistled over the hill. A sandstorm fast approached, allowing the bloody moon to play peekaboo behind the clouds. The air sizzled with tension, communicating unease and something out of tune with nature. His eyes scanned the vicinity for anything suspicious. He listened. Nothing. Apart from the coming storm, all seemed as it should.

Sethmet’s slow trot hastened into a full-out run, just for the pleasure of feeling his muscles work and for the heady rush of air blowing through his coat. He rounded the end of a rolling dune, his sharp eyes picking up the Englishmen’s camp at the base of the next sand hill. The tents rattled faintly, the white canvas billowing with the building storm. The flicker of a lamp caught his attention, moving slowly away from the glowing embers of the campfire. Sethmet checked the air, smelling for danger again and paused in surprise. Subtle perfume—flowers of the lilac. Woman.

Sethmet sat on his haunches, blinking while he considered this new development. It was unusual for Englishwomen to come to his family’s oasis because it was so far from the big towns, several long days of riding camels that tested the temperament of a strong man let alone a delicate female. Perhaps she came with one of the local men. A wife or a lover. He hadn’t seen nor smelled evidence of her in the camp when he’d visited earlier. Not that the Englishmen had welcomed him with open arms.

Secretive bastards. He knew they were treasure hunters, intent on raping the pharaoh’s tomb. The greedy expression in their eyes when they thought no one noticed gave them away. No, they hadn’t made him welcome. They’d conducted business, looking down their sharp English noses at him. Sethmet blinked, thoughts of the treasure hunters dissolving as the light moved farther away. The steady retreat of the light piqued his curiosity.

On the unprotected side of the dunes, the wind tugged his fur, blew particles of sand in his eyes, bringing discomfort. He never considered ending his pursuit because something inside the cat urged him to keep following the bobbing light. A flash of white petticoat told him he’d almost caught the woman. His heart beat harder, faster.

Would she take fright at seeing the cat? Probably. Shifting wasn’t an option, not with an Englishwoman present. Nudity made them nervous. They didn’t even like to look at their own bodies. No, shifting wouldn’t work.

His ears flicked back and forth while he determined a course of action. Even if she had a link to the treasure hunters, the ones intent on finding the lost tombs, the approaching storm presented a danger to her. What was her protector thinking?

A powerful gust of wind, the dull roar of the swirling sands and the startled squeak from the Englishwoman made up his mind. Sethmet padded up to her swaying form, intent on herding her to safety.

Long ebony hair streamed out behind her while black skirts blew up and outward, baring her legs and white frilly undergarments. Her seductive scent filled his nostrils—flowers and woman. His heart jumped, astonishing both beast and man. The urge to shift and claim her sprang into his mind, shivered the length of his body. Suddenly, he wanted to sink into the warm softness a woman. This woman. The need to touch her velvet skin beat like an urgent drum inside his head. A soft snarl erupted in protest from his feline side.

The woman heard, despite the wail of the wind. She whirled, her blue eyes widening in astonishment.

But not fear, Sethmet thought with a sense of pride. He knew then this woman would be a worthy consort for the man who claimed her.

Purchase from Ellora’s Cave

To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts follow the links below:

McKenna Jeffries
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Mari Carr
Shelli Stevens
Jody Wallace
Victoria Janssen

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