Taste of Kiwi

This week’s theme is lost love. I think I’ve posted this scene before, but I like it, so I’ve posted it again. Camryn Sullivan has lost her older husband and his death sends her on a downward spiral–until she is kidnapped by aliens.

HOUSE OF THE CAT by Shelley Munro

“I don’t care if Camryn’s your sister. She’s an alcoholic, and I swear she’s overdoing the prescription drugs as well. I don’t trust her near our son.”

“She loves Luke,” Max said.

“Last time Camryn baby-sat, she let Luke wander onto the racetrack. She was blind drunk.”

Her sister-in-law’s angry words brought Camryn O’Sullivan to an abrupt stop. She wavered on unsteady legs, not wasted but experiencing a buzz and blissful ignorance of the true state of her life. She smothered a giggle, slapping her hand over her quivering lips. Okay, she’d had drinks. Lots of drinks in pretty colors. Teeny umbrellas to match.

“What do you want me to do? I can’t throw her out. She’s my twin sister. She doesn’t have anyone else.”

A hit! Camryn screwed her eyes shut, protecting herself against the onslaught of pain. No, she didn’t want to think about Gabriel, about being alone. How much it hurt. Max couldn’t make her leave. He wouldn’t.

She had nowhere else to go.

“Max, it’s almost two years since Gabriel’s death. Camryn’s not improving. She needs help. More than we can give her.”

Silence fell, but Ellen’s words throbbed like the harping notes of a badly played violin. They hurt her head and brought forth a wave of indignation. She didn’t need help. She needed Gabriel, dammit. Only her husband’s presence would belay the paralyzing guilt she carried with her every day.

A rough masculine sigh sounded. “Love, you’re right. Camryn needs help, but she doesn’t see it. Until she realizes, all we can do is be here for her. She has to want change.”

“Fine, and meantime Camryn drags us down with her. I found her smoking inside the stables this afternoon. She reeked of alcohol. Other people have noticed. She won jockey of the year two years running, but have you noticed she’s not getting the rides she was a year ago? Camryn has real aptitude with horses, the gift you both have, and she’s throwing it away.”

A direct hit. Ellen’s words sliced with precision, ripping open wounds barely scabbed. The agony hit instantaneously, ferocious and heart-stopping. Silent tears ran down Camryn’s face, and she staggered against the door. Invisible bands clamped around her ribs. Camryn gasped hoarsely, the last of the drunken buzz bleeding away as she attempted to breathe. She wanted to rock away the pain, the guilt that came from knowing Gabriel would never return.

The wind caught the door, slamming it shut and the murmur of voices from the kitchen stopped abruptly.
No, not here. She couldn’t fall apart here. Camryn fumbled with the handle, increasingly desperate when footsteps neared.

“Camryn? Is that you?” Her twin brother’s baritone sounded in the passage not far from where she teetered.

Camryn finally managed to coordinate brain and hands. The door opened. She stumbled into the winter air. The bite of the wind brought a shiver, an increase to her misery. Whiskey. She needed a drink. And maybe one of those little yellow pills the nice doctor had prescribed to help her sleep. Anything to escape the horrid truth. She hadn’t meant to leave Luke alone. She loved her nephew. He raced about, so fast on his feet, and the sleepless nights had taken their toll. She’d fallen asleep in Gabriel’s favorite chair.

Luke loved horses. No surprise since his father bred and trained racehorses. She and Max had lived and breathed horses since they were Luke’s age. Camryn lurched along the muddy track leading to the cottage at the back of the main house.

Really, she didn’t need help. If Gabriel returned things would improve. She could kick the alcohol any time she wanted. A few pills to lift her mood. Camryn didn’t need them either. She needed Gabriel.

Camryn burst into her cottage, tracking mud across the tile floor. She staggered through the cluttered kitchen and into the dining room where she’d instructed her brother and his workers to place Gabriel’s chair. Camryn slumped into the big, masculine chair and pressed her nose against the cool leather. The faint scent of lavender soap and whiskey filled her senses, and a surge of tears blurred her vision. The chair didn’t smell of Gabriel anymore.

It smelled of her.

Camryn crawled onto the chair properly, ignoring the muddy boots on her feet. She curled into a tight ball, her thin shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. The cruel truth hit then. Gabriel wouldn’t be coming home. He would never come home. Gabriel was dead, and it was all her fault.

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To read other Snippet Saturday excerpts follow the links below:

Emma Petersen
McKenna Jeffries
Vivian Arend
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Lauren Dane
Mari Carr
Lissa Matthews
TJ Michaels
Shelli Stevens
Elisabeth Naughton
Juliana Stone
Leah Braemel

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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.”

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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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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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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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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)
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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.

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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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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.

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

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This week’s theme is unusual occupations. I was spoiled for choice with this topic – a truck driver, an aromatherapist, spies, cat burglars. I chose an excerpt from Sex Idol, which is a futuristic. The hero and heroine are professional…um…let’s just say that reality shows have pushed the envelope and there are now professional performers who win big money on the sex circuit. This is an adults only excerpt.

Sex Idol by Shelley Munro

“Not like that. Gently!” Sasha Greenacre instructed. “You want your partner to climax not writhe around in acute pain.” She strolled down the lines of students practicing oral sex and halted when she noticed the couple at the far end of the room whispering instead of taking part in the class exercise. College students and legally adult, maybe, but they still loved to gossip given the opportunity. Sasha glided closer, ready to reprimand.

“…the man is hunkermondous. Bet he’ll enter the Sex Idol contest,” the pretty blonde said.

“He’ll win,” her exercise partner stated. “Wish I had Perez’s technique. Ms. Greenacre used to be his partner.

That’s why my parents enrolled me at her school the minute I turned eighteen. Said she was the best. They won all the top contests.”

Antonio.

Sasha squeezed her eyes closed and sucked in a breath, trying to ease the rapid beat of her heart. Ever since the ads for Sex Idol, the ultimate contest, had started appearing in the papers and on the links, Antonio’s name had hit the headlines. His name was on everyone’s lips. Rumors flew faster than her savings disappeared when bill time came around. Sasha’s nails dug into her palms as she took another hasty breath. Hearing his name hurt, dammit.

Even after all this time.

More whispering jerked her from the painful memories. “Are you going to participate in this exercise?” Sasha winced at the peevish note in her voice. “Have you both climaxed? No? I want to see at least one orgasm each before the timer goes.”

“Yes, Ms. Greenacre.” The male swiped his tongue over his partner’s glistening clitoris and she issued a soft mew, her hips jerking in time to the soft rock ballad that poured through concealed speakers.

“Very good.” Sasha strode down the rows of wide-padded benches again, observing her students’ progress with satisfaction. The novice class consisted of twenty students between the ages of eighteen and twenty—eleven females and nine males. They would do her proud in the upcoming competition, and all going well, they’d win the team’s award too.

Sasha became aware of excited whispers and heads lifted from the exercise she’d set. She turned toward the door to check the source of the interruption. A man stood in the open doorway. He was as familiar as the reflection she saw in the mirror each morning. Icy-cold panic froze her in place, the chatter from her students receding to the distance. The strident clang of the automatic bell jerked Sasha from her frozen horror.

What was Antonio doing here?

God, he looked…great. Sasha bit down on her tongue to make sure it wasn’t hanging out.

“Can we have your autograph?” Her students had no qualms about vying for his attention. They leapt from their workstations and ran to him like excited pups, heedless of their unclothed state.

“No problem. I’m happy to sign autographs.” Antonio signed books and slips of pastel-colored paper until Sasha wanted to scream. It was pretty obvious he’d come to see her, but why?

Finally, he excused himself, ushered his last excited fan to their clothes and out the door before shutting it with a soft click. Sasha winced but maintained his gaze in an act of sheer bravado. In return, he grinned and prowled across the room, his arms outstretched. Sasha stepped behind her rigid plastique desk, although it was flimsy protection against his potent masculinity. Tall, with the looks of a dark angel, the man oozed sex appeal.

Sasha had thought—hoped—she’d become immune. But judging by the way her heart rate had picked up into a frenzied gallop, obviously not.

“Sasha.” He rolled her name, slow and easy so it sounded exotic. Decadent and expensive like her favorite double chocolate chip ice cream. And just like that, Sasha was thrown into the past.

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McKenna Jeffries
Vivian Arend
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Jody Wallace
Mari Carr
Kelly Maher
Lissa Matthews

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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.

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

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The theme this week is Near Death Experience. I have quite a few scenes where my characters are in dire danger, but they come mostly at the end of my stories. I don’t want to give too much away. In the end, I decided on an excerpt from Soldier of Fortune, one of the earlier scenes where the hero and heroine face an ambush on the streets of Iraq.

Soldier of Fortune by Shelley Munro

“Checkpoint,” the driver muttered, slowing the vehicle.

Louie cursed and slipped his gun out of sight but retained it in his hand. Local soldiers ran the roving checkpoints. They shot first and asked questions later. Cooperation and patience were key to remaining alive. If all else failed the driver would barrel straight through and hope for the best.

“Tell him we’re going east,” Louie instructed the driver.

The driver spoke rapidly in the local dialect, answering questions fired at him by the young soldier.

Louie relaxed fractionally when the soldier waved them through. “Good man,” he said to the driver.

They made good progress despite the slow-moving traffic and the wait for a British army convoy to pass through an intersection. Overhead, a Black Hawk helicopter buzzed like a whining mosquito, drawing sporadic fire from a patch of undergrowth.

“Don’t like this,” Simon said via the radio. “More gunfire than usual. Not many locals either. What’s your gut say?”

“Something’s going on.” Louie agreed, the back of his neck tingling in warning. Danger lurked in the shadows.

Somewhere. “Guess our quiet period is over. Can you see anything?”

Up ahead, two vehicles jammed on their brakes, coming to an abrupt stop. Behind the second recon car, another stopped, blocking their retreat. Magically, the few remaining locals faded into the background, leaving a deserted street.

“Ambush,” Simon shouted.

Gunfire cracked directly behind them. A signal. Bullets rained down. From the front. From the rear. The rat-a-tat-tat of guns filled Louie’s ears, made them ring.

“Fire!” Simon hollered through the radio.

Louie concentrated on the two vehicles in front. “Shoot to kill.” Simon would watch their six, but he gave orders anyway. “Mac, check our rear.”

Like a freak hail storm, the bullets pelted their vehicle. Cautiously, Louie opened his door. Crouched behind. Fired.

Mac, Tai and Garrett fired with rapid precision from behind lowered windows. The jackhammer of AK-47 assault rifles echoed between the buildings, replaying in his head. All the time he was aware of Mac behind him. Part of him wanted to throw her back in the vehicle, keep her safe. He started to move and froze when a bullet whizzed past his cheek.

“Fuck.” He ducked behind the door, forced himself to concentrate. Just him and his weapon in hand. Shoot to kill. Fire. Fire. Fire! Bullets hit the door, kicked up dust until his eyes smarted. Men shouted. Somewhere in front of him, a man shrieked for help, his French accent casting him as one of the insurgent volunteers from abroad. Fanatics, they came from all over the world to fight for the cause.

Time slowed, the insurgents returning a barrage of fire. Sweat dripped down Louie’s face. He swiped it away, fear clutching at his chest. They couldn’t keep this up for much longer. Should they make a run for it? He fired another round of shots, assessing the situation, making decisions.

“Rear car is retreating,” Simon reported in a terse voice.

Thank you, God. Something was going right.
The driver moved the second car up, giving them better cover. Another of the insurgents fell to the ground, didn’t move. Grimly, Louie fired until all return fire ceased. The guns of his men fell silent, but they remained watchful. Louie cautiously peered around the door to scan the vicinity. When no one moved, he ordered everyone back into the vehicles.

They’d been bloody lucky this time. He swiped a weary hand over his face. Mac… Damn! Thoughts of her had distracted him. Time to get a grip. He’d get them all killed if he didn’t start thinking with his head instead of his dick.

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To read more Snippet Saturday excerpts follow the links below:

Eliza Gayle
Moira Rogers
Ashley Ladd
Shelley Munro
Taige Crenshaw
Juliana Stone
TJ Michaels
Shelli Stevens
McKenna Jeffries
Anya Bast
Victoria Janssen

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