Countdown to Christmas: Shelley Munro

Shelley Munro said:
I live in New Zealand, and our Christmas falls during summer. I always enjoy the warmer weather and longer evenings when we can have barbecues and eat al fresco. My favorite barbecue meal includes seafood, salads and fresh strawberries for dessert. The pohutukawa trees, a native to New Zealand, come into bloom just before Christmas and are a blaze of scarlet flowers. For me, that’s the real signal that Christmas is almost here.

Blurb: Resisting Tamaki

Resistance is futile.
Cimmaron Zhaan refuses to follow the traditional path of a Dlog woman. Instead she dreams of traveling through space and flying spaceships for the Coalition. Years of hard work bring her goal within grasp, until her superior seeks sexual favors and leaves her stranded on the isolated planet of Marchant.
Enter sexy club manager Tamaki Grierson. Cimmaron’s not looking for a mate, but there’s no denying that sparks fly between them. Desperate to leave Marchant, all she wants is to keep her head down and work—no romance for her.
But there’s something strange about the club and curiosity leads Cimmaron into trouble. Before she knows it, she’s naked with Tamaki and his best friend. Kisses. Heated embraces and torrid sex. Their loving is breathtaking. Her resistance is at low ebb, her heart and mind battling her overwhelming attraction for Tamaki. If she isn’t careful, her Dlog hormones will tie her to him for life and her struggle to fly spaceships will be for naught.

EXCERPT: Resisting Tamaki

The rest of the females and the couple of males in the group took a collective breath and straightened. Cimmaron slouched lower against the wall, hoping she wouldn’t stick out like pustules on an underling’s face.
All for naught.
The man was tall. He prowled into the bar like a sleek tigoth beast from the planet Dalcon. His piercing blue eyes scanned the faces in the room, taking his time, before they came to rest on her. And lingered. A frisson of awareness shot through her body and gathered on her lips. They tingled insistently until she broke down and moistened them with her tongue. The expression in the male’s eyes intensified, making them darker, more compelling. Finally, his gaze moved on, leaving Cimmaron weak and panting. What the phrull had that been about? In confusion, she stared, trying to analyze the sheer need coursing through her body, tugging at places that hadn’t seen light for a long time, let alone reacted to a male in this way before.
He was tall, maybe a fraction taller than her. That was unusual in itself. Cimmaron towered above all of her shipmates and only felt at home on her planet of Risches. His hair was the color of deep space—black. But it didn’t hold the nothingness of the uncharted territories. It glowed under the lights, the black blue sheen making her want to touch to discover if it felt as soft as it appeared.
He turned to speak to the male at his side. Cimmaron hadn’t noticed him at first, but she saw he was much the same height. His look was more familiar, that of a local Marchant, which was why he hadn’t stood out as much. The deep rumble of the first male’s voice tugged at her. Cimmaron shook, wondering what the phrull was wrong with her. She was in the worst situation, stranded with no hope of rescue, yet suddenly all she could think about was the male. The need to touch was a siren song in her blood.
Her fingers prickled, her lips still tingled and the rest of her body was…aware.
The male spoke. “I’ll see you in number order. Please form a line. Rico will show you into my office when your number is called.”
Cimmaron scowled down at her number. Last in, she had the final interview. Knowing her luck, the jobs would be gone by the time they called her number.

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