Romance novels are full of tropes. Military heroes are a popular one, and if you agree and enjoy reading about strong and sexy soldiers, this is the promotion for you to check out. Don’t delay. Go right now!
Archive for 'Shelley Munro'
Protecting the Bride is book 7 in the Military Men series. It’s a contemporary romance with elements of romantic suspense.
If you enjoy:
- A military hottie
- A jilted bride
- Fake honeymoon
- Friends to lovers
- Danger and suspense
Then Protecting the Bride is the book for you!
Note: Although the romance is part of a series, readers can read the books out of order without missing a thing.
This month, I’m taking part in a promotion featuring menage a trois and reverse harem romances. If you like your romance reads spicy, then this is the place to go.
Menage & Reverse Harem Steamy Reads
My Second Chance is one of my romances included in the promo. Grab this romance now since it’s on sale for 99c. Fiona’s Mates and Fringe Benefits are also part of the promotion.
Cullen stood, grabbed their empty glasses. “Want another beer? I’ll challenge you to a game of pool.”
“Deal,” Josh said. “Check out the woman at the bar. If you have a thing for the old-fashion movie starlet, she fits the type to a T. See you at the pool tables.”
Cullen whirled around to stare and did a double-take as he watched Grace down an amber-liquid—perhaps her favored Scottish whisky—and shove her glass toward the barman for a refill. Long strides took him to Grace’s side before he even realized what he was doing.
“Grace?” When he saw her earlier, she’d worn her checked chef trousers and a baggy white T-shirt. His gaze skimmed her body, taking in her tight denim skirt and the form-fitting black-and-white T-shirt. He smiled on spotting her flat, practical shoes—the ones she wore to work, if he wasn’t mistaken.
She swiveled on her barstool and almost fell off. Cullen grasped her by the waist to right her, her flesh burning his palms through the thin fabric. As she recovered her balance, her strawberry blonde hair brushed against his cheek. “Cullen?”
Her beautiful green eyes widened, and he stilled upon seeing the evidence of tears.
“What’s wrong?”
Her backbone straightened, and her expression froze. “Nothing.”
She didn’t seem confident of the fact. “Have you eaten?”
“Not hungry,” she snapped, lifting her dainty nose a fraction as if to say none of your business.
“If you keep drinking that way, you’ll need food inside you.” He kept his tone reasonable and non-judgmental. Hell, he’d deadened his woes with alcohol a time or two.
She averted her gaze, her shoulders and tits rising as she inhaled and exhaled in a heavy sigh. “After I saw you, I was in my kitchen unpacking the groceries. I heard a strange noise, and for a moment, I thought I had an intruder. The front door was ajar, but nothing seemed out of place. I assumed I hadn’t shut it properly because it’s happened before.”
“Did you call the cops?” Cullen demanded. “What did they say?”
“I started to call them, but I heard moaning and groaning. I went into my bedroom and found Jeff and the neighbor.”
“Jeff?”
“My fiancé. Ex-fiancé.”
“And Julia—the neighbor on your other side? Is she still living there?”
“Yes, that Julia.”
“What were they doing?”
“What do you think they were doing? They were doing the naked mambo in my bed.”
Oban is the main town on Stewart Island. Actually, it’s the only town on the island. My characters in Protecting the Bride, Cullen and Grace, stayed here and spent time exploring the town and the rest of the island. This is a view of Oban.
We took a boat trip inland during our time on Stewart Island to the start of a popular walking track. The trip into the hut depends on the tide since the water is very shallow at low tide. The scenery, however, is stunning, with lots of pristine native bush.
The view from the boat during our trip.
It was lovely seeing the scenery farther inland, and if I ever get a chance to return, I’d love to attempt some of the longer walking tracks.
And finally, to prove that kiwis live on Stewart Island, they have signs stating this fact.
Yes, it’s true. Kiwis live here!
Read an excerpt of Protecting the Bride or order your copy today!
In previous posts, I’ve mentioned that my visit to Stewart Island inspired the book Protecting the Bride. Mr. Munro and I had lots of fun during our visit and many of the things we did found their way into Protecting the Bride.
Cullen and Grace sat on this same balcony and enjoyed the view of Oban township plus a glass or two of wine. We sat here and watched the native wood pigeons and the tui squabble over tree-sitting rights.
Cullen and Grace went fishing for blue cod, which is something I did, too. Blue cod is one of my favorite fish to eat, and I ate more than my fair share during our visit. Blue cod is a cold-water fish with firm white flesh, and it isn’t as readily available or as fresh up in Auckland. This photo is of me sitting on the boat and getting ready to fish for my dinner. Yes, we caught quite a few and took fish home.
This is Sunset rock, a spot Cullen and Grace visited, but during the day and not for the sunset. Mr. Munro and I watched the sunset and slapped at hungry mosquitoes the entire time. Not my idea of a good time!
This is Ulva Island, home to lots of our native birds. As you can see, the island is small, and the distance from the mainland isn’t great. I loved wandering through the native trees and searching for native birds. Some of them are very shy and don’t enjoy posing for photos. Grace and Cullen walked the same paths we did and loved the experience as much as I did. Ulva Island is a wonderful place to visit.
Read an excerpt of Protecting the Bride or order your copy today!
Much of Stewart Island is uninhabited and still covered with native bush, making it a haven for many of our native birds.
Ulva Island is a bird sanctuary where some of our most endangered birds have been released and are thriving. It was a thrill and a privilege to wander through the bush and spot some of our rarer birds.
The beach near the boat landing on Ulva Island.
A weka strolling along the beach.
A black robin, an endangered NZ bird.
The Clematis is a vine that climbs through the trees, and it is a member of the buttercup family. The flowers are white.
Shelley hugging a rimu tree on Ulva Island.
A native wood pigeon.
The bellbird, one of NZ songbirds.
The tui is one of New Zealand’s more adaptable birds, and it is common in most parts of NZ. It’s still a very cool bird, and there were lots of them on Stewart Island.
Stewart Island is also one of the best places to go kiwi-watching. We went out at 9:00 pm and traveled to an uninhabited part of the island via boat. It was just amazing watching and hearing the kiwi feed. They didn’t seem to notice us and were unaffected by the special red light the guides use to help people spot them.
In my upcoming release, Protecting the Bride, Cullen and Grace visit Ulva Island to go birdwatching. They also spend an unforgettable evening looking for kiwi.
Protecting the Bride is available for pre-order and is out on 17 August 2021.
Stewart Island is the third-largest island in New Zealand, and it sits around thirty kilometers south of the South Island. Mr. Munro and I visited in 2020 and enjoyed our visit so much that I decided to set a book on the island. After percolating the idea for a few months, PROTECTING THE BRIDE sprang to life on the page.
Transport to the island is via ferry across Foveaux Strait, which can be decidedly rough and rocky and not for the faint-hearted or poor sailors. The other method to get to the island is a quick fifteen-minute hop on a plane.
We traveled by both methods, taking the ferry over and the plane back to Invercargill. We had fantastic weather and didn’t experience the rock and roll that can give even those with a strong stomach big trouble.
Oban, the only township on the island, is small and quaint with a pub, a museum, a supermarket, a few other shops and tourism-related companies, a school, a café, and the Kai Kart, which does takeout food. It takes minutes to walk from one end to the other, but the setting is pretty with a white sandy beach and lots of native bush.
With only thirty-two kilometers of road, there aren’t many vehicles on the island. We walked a lot and learned to take a torch with us at night since the streetlamps are also limited.
Our accommodation was at the top of the hill. We had an incredible view of the township, the bay, and the sea beyond. The only downside was the steep hill that we had to climb each time we returned from sightseeing. I suspect my fitness levels improved during our holiday.
I used lots of our experiences in PROTECTING THE BRIDE, including that steep hill. Since I had to huff and puff up this hill, so did my heroine! Protecting the Bride is due for release on 17 Aug. Learn more details, read an excerpt, or pre-order here.
Lone Wolf, my gay paranormal werewolf romance is currently on sale for 99c. To read the blurb and for purchase links check out the Lone Wolf book page.
Last month, I decided it was time for a new cover for MY PLAN B, book 11 in the Middlemarch Shifters series. This book features an older hero and heroine, and I’m thrilled with the end result.
Here is a short excerpt from the book:
“I’ll follow her,” Jacey volunteered. “You said that the logical place for her to stay is in the holiday cottages. Why don’t you two go back to the vehicle and bring my clothes?”
Leo gave a decisive nod. “If she glimpses you, she’s more likely to assume she saw a dog. If she sees me, Saber and the Feline council will get pissed because a sighting might spark rumors of black cats again.”
“You’ll pick me up near the holiday cottages?”
“Yes,” Leo confirmed.
“See you there? Henry, you’re taking Geoffrey?”
“Yeah. I’ll whistle for him once you’re closer to her.”
“Plan,” Jacey said, and seconds later, he sneaked from behind the schist in his wolf form, every sense focused on the orange-blossom woman. Behind him, Henry summoned Geoffrey, had a whispered exchange with Leo before the pair, too, shifted to animal.
Jacey used the available cover, a few longer clumps of grass and smaller schist rocks, to creep closer to the woman. The scent wafting from her filled his senses, filled his thoughts with unexpected ideas of seduction. He wanted a clearer view of her face.
She scanned the panoramic view in front of her, her gaze flitting over him. Jacey dropped and froze in position, praying she hadn’t glimpsed the paleness of his belly and chest. As a youngster, his fur had been a glossy black. These days, a fair amount of white decorated his belly and chest. In his human form, his hair and stubble when he didn’t shave was silver.
His heart pounded, a fraction faster than normal, and he frowned as he absorbed the information. Strange. Something in this human woman pulled at his senses and drew him. Part of the reason he’d volunteered for this job. Curiosity and the urge to regain his balance.
The woman stood and shoved the white pad—a plastic bag—into a pocket. Her coat and winter gear still hid her identity and shape, giving him peekaboo glances of her profile and flashes of blonde hair, but her scent…
Jacey breathed deeply, his wolf and his human part wallowing in orange blossom. Now that less distance separated them, there was an underlying earthiness to her aroma. A familiar wolfish scent. No. That made little sense. Another wolf would have scented them, become aware and likely bristled at their intrusion into her solitary state.
No, the woman was human.
This imaginary mystery scent was a puzzle to fill his mind with business. He liked puzzles.
She walked with her shoulders hunched, her head bowed. She sniffed and dragged a hankie from her pocket.
He couldn’t see what she was doing, but seconds later, she thrust the hankie back into her pocket and hurried along a narrow path that wound through a stand of native bush. Or at least, Henry had told him the trees were native to New Zealand. Their pungent scent made him want to sneeze.
The path turned, and he glimpsed her face as he followed. She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes with an impatient sigh, knuckling away moisture.
The woman was crying. Ah. That accounted for her absently snapping photos. Her mind lay elsewhere, treading in misery.
Sympathy engulfed Jacey. Empathy. He’d wanted to cry for Henry’s loss, for his son’s obvious pain. Without a second thought, he let out a doglike whine.
The woman’s head snapped up, her shoulders tense, even beneath the heavy jacket. She whirled around, and he glimpsed her blotchy face. The woman was older than his first guess, possibly ten or fifteen years younger than him. Blue eyes like his. Blue eyes swamped with unhappiness.
He whined again, trying to making himself smaller and more doglike. A handy skill. He wagged his tail, wriggled his body. Without taking his gaze off her, he inched closer and tried not to scare her.
“Hey, boy.” Her soft voice caressed, even though it held a layer of tears. “Do you belong to the farm or are you lost too?”
