23 May 2011

Please Say Hello to Lila Munro!

Hi, guys! Please help me welcome Lila Munro! She's here today talking about the life of a RHINO. No, it's not the animal. Read on to find out more.

Thanks for dropping by, Lila!

On Being a Rhino

Before I get down to the business of explaining what being a Rhino means, I’d like to thank Lindsay for the opportunity to be here today talking to her readers. I’m sure there are some old hands in the crowd as well as some newbies. It’s to both that I speak today as I’ve figured out that no matter how long you’ve been at this business it can still be hard and you can get your feelings hurt and your feathers ruffled, oh a few dozen times a week. At least. You have to have a tough skin to get by and not give in to the urge to quit. Thus my chosen subject today—being a Rhino.

I’m sure Lindsay will understand what I’m about to reveal right away as she’s an Army wife and I’m a Marine wife, thus this makes us sisters in spirit and strife. We’ve assumed the mantle of one of the hardest jobs on the planet and to exacerbate that we also chose one of the most demanding careers to go along with it. Writing. I hear tell that Lindsay has been a wife for nine years now I believe, please correct me if I’m wrong Lindsay. I’ve been doing this for nearly fifteen now and my husband has been in for twenty three years. When I first met my husband, he was actually out of his fleet element and was at a training command at Ft. Leonard Wood where I was born and raised. Yes, a marine on a soldiers turf. But you’d be surprised for all the competition of who’s the best, there is just as much camaraderie, love and support. After sweetie asked for my hand in marriage and announced to his training command that this would be occurring, one of his supervisors approached me. He was an Army Staff Sergeant and ready to retire. He “knew stuff.”

Rog taught me a few things about being a wife that even a wife couldn’t teach me. He taught me to always support my husband even if I disagreed with the mission, only shed one tear at a memorial service and reserve the rest for later, and he taught me to be a Rhino. He said I had to learn to be one and grow a thick skin to be able to live this life. He was right. And I’ve discovered that my Rhino training has come in handy with this writing career as well, although there are times my thick skin feels very thin and I have those days I want stop writing altogether. That’s when I pull out the Rhino rules. So, what is this Rhino stuff all about? Let me share.

The Rhino Creed—

I am a rhinoceros. I have a “damn the torpedoes” spirit. I am full of rhino energy and I can’t wait to get up in the morning to start a challenge.

1. Anything in life worth having is worth working for.

2. Sell yourself on yourself: be happy and smile.

3. Plan your attack and attack you plan.

4. Get physical exercise and get in shape.

5. Take care of yourself and eat good rhino food.

6. Get mental exercise: read good books. Garbage in=garbage out.

7. Discipline yourself: use your time wisely. DO IT NOW!!

8. Never lose your sense of humor: choose to be happy.

9. It’s all in your mind: positive mental attitude.

10. Plans change: prepare for Rhino problems: failure brings success.

11. Have a 2 inch thick skin: it feels good to be a Rhino.

12. Kick the worry habit: things always work out for the best.

13. Associate with winners: as you associate—you become.

14. Work together: GO FOR IT!!

15. Expect some rotten days: charge at your problems—take action.

16. You have to give to get: when you share—you care a hundredfold.

17. Be a kid again: have a new experience.

18. Take a Rhino rest: don’t forget about the crash of Rhinos.

19. Declare yourself a Rhino: become a Rhino today.


The day Rog gave me the Rhino talk he gave me a Rhino card. Yes, I’m a card carrying member of the Rhino nation. I carry it in my wallet to this day.

Damn the torpedoes friends! Keep charging! When the writing world has you by the throat and you want to quit—dig deep and find your Rhino skin.

Lila Munro is a writer of contemporary romance currently residing on the coast of North Carolina. She is a military wife and takes much of her inspiration for her heroes from the marines she’s lived around for the past fourteen years. Coining the term realmantica, she strives to produce quality romance in a realistic setting. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading everything she can get her hands on, trips to the museum and aquarium, taking field research trips, and soaking up the sun on the nearby beaches. Her works include The Executive Officer’s Wife, Bound By Trust, All I Want for Christmas is Redemption, Destiny’s Fire, A Slower Lower Love, Salvation, Force Recon: Beacon Bayou, and Identity Crisis. Currently she’s working on sequels to several series to be released throughout 2010-2011. Ms. Munro always works as the Director of Marketing and Public Relations for Rebel Ink Press. She loves to hear from her readers and can be contacted via her website http://lilamunro.weebly.com , her joint effort website http://www.wickedmuses.blogspot.com or through Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/Lila_Munro You can also contact her via email at lilasromance@gmail.com For more information about Rebel Ink Press please visit their website at www.rebelinkpress.com

Said Judith at Book Binge about A Slower Lower Love book one in the Delaney Brothers series:

This is one of those novels that needs to be read and re-read. There is so much here and such depth that it will, in my opinion, take more than one read through to plumb those depths and identify all that is going on with the characters. So I recommend that lovers of romance novels with tension, authentic emotion, and essential humanity not miss this story. It is a full length novel and well worth the time and effort to explore. I give it a rating of 5 out of 5.

Book two, A Slower Lower Life, is now available through Rebel Ink Press.

When two worlds collide,

Being the oldest of eight has never been easy for Kurt Delaney, but the pressures he’s put on himself far exceed any anyone else inflicts on him. Known as the family stick in the mud, Kurt’s pushing forty and with the heirship to the family farm hanging in the balance, he finds his hopes of a married life and children swirling down the drain. Honor and family are everything to him and a mate that doesn’t hold those things as dear as he does is unacceptable.

Deidre Maloney is a city born and bred girl. In the absence of her botanist parents, she was raised by a nanny and knows nothing of a family’s love or how being married works. Commitment isn’t a word in her vocabulary. Only concerned with finding a new job and a fling, she embarks on a trip from Chicago to Seaford, Delaware to see her best friend Cait marry her high school sweetheart. Being attracted to a Delaney brother wasn’t on her carefully planned itinerary.

the aftermath is all that matters…

With so many differences between him and Deidre, Kurt can’t believe he’s let himself fall for her. She’s looking for a prime rib guy and he knows he’s just skirt steak. When they’re in close proximity, however, something undeniably amazing happens. How does he convince her that family isn’t something to fear and love doesn’t hurt? How does Kurt show Deidre that a slower, lower life is what she’s been looking for all along?


Kurt wondered what the hell Deidre had been thinking booking a flight so early. Not only did he have to be on the road by six a.m., he’d make the outer loop just in time for Monday morning rush hour. Inconsiderate was the nicest word he could think of to call her under his breath as he climbed in his gold Ford F-250 with a cup of coffee in one hand. Cait was tickled pink that Deidre was within hours of arriving and had called him three times the previous day to remind him of her arrival time and flight number. On the third call, Bryce had taken the phone and sprang the rest of the joyous news on Kurt. It seemed Deidre didn’t want to impose on the soon to be newlyweds and was refusing to stay at their nice newly renovated big house on the river. Both sets of parents were full up with relatives flocking in, the beach houses were taken by still more relatives, and Deidre in all her infinite wisdom had failed to book a room in time and now every motel from Seaford to the beach was full with the holiday weekend coming up. Kurt lived in the two bedroom brick that had been his parents’ starter home, and guess who was now staying in the second bed. Great. Was there no end to this wedding day hell?

Two hours later, just as Kurt merged onto the 295, he was further annoyed when he hit a solid wall of commuters trying to get to work. Inconsiderate. Would a two hour delay have killed her? She hadn’t seen Cait in almost eight months and two more hours would have done her in? By the time he pulled into the parking garage at BWI, Kurt was ready to spit nails. He wondered how much it would take to bribe Kelly, the little gal that ran the local Ho-Jo, to rent out a broom closet for his guest. Snatching a ticket from the automated machine at the garage entrance, he glanced down at the clock in the dash. Nine. She was supposed to land at eight fifty-five. With any luck, they’d still be in a holding pattern and she’d never know he was late.

Finally after almost twenty minutes of circling, he located a spot big enough to accommodate his more than economy sized vehicle and parked, bailed out, and hurried into the terminal. Quickly scanning the incoming flights board he discovered that Southwest 665 had indeed landed on time, in fact, it had landed fifteen minutes early. Shit. Kurt walked as quickly as he dared without looking suspicious and getting stopped and frisked by security to baggage claim. Surely she’d be smart enough to stay there.

Kurt rounded the final corner to find the carousel area void of passengers. Not a single bag remained on the conveyor, not a single person waited to claim anything. Where the hell did she go? Okay, where would I go if I’d just landed and had already claimed my luggage? She’s a female, dumbass. The bathroom. Kurt turned on his heel and headed back toward the blue sign he’d seen hanging overhead indicating where the lavatories were. Standing just outside the ladies’ room, he waited a few minutes. If she was in there surely she’d have come back out by now. An elderly woman in a pair of green plaid golfing shorts and a white polo shirt with a pink ball cap on her gray head popped out of the swinging door nearly striking Kurt in the face he’d been standing so close.

“Oh, excuse me,” she said in a crackly voice. “You shouldn’t have been so close to the door.”

“Yes, ma’am, I realize that,” Kurt answered, touching the bill of his Soil Service cap with his fingertips. “Did you see a woman about this tall?” He held his hand to his chest. “With black hair and gray eyes in there? At least that’s what she looked like last time I saw her.”

“Well, she couldn’t have changed that much in, what? Ten minutes?” the old woman snapped and looked at Kurt like he’d sprouted a third eye.

“No, no. I’m picking her up. I haven’t seen her in a while…”

Before Kurt could finish his sentence, a woman that he was sure was Deidre came out of the restroom wearing a strapless white sundress that only fell to the middle of her thighs and was stretched so taut across her breasts her nipples strained against the fabric. And they were apparently uncomfortable with their hindrance. His eyes followed the lines of the fabric along the rest of her body and down her tan legs to find spike heel open toe white pumps on her feet. Ten tiny perfect toes with red tips peeked out. He scanned back up with his breath caught in his throat. Big, square framed black sunglasses hid her eyes so he couldn’t see the color, but that short black hair and big gold hoop earrings. That was Deidre.

“Deidre?” Kurt said, wiping his sweaty palms along his jeans. What was wrong with him? He’d seen her before. Of course that was last fall and she was covered up in a pair of chocolate corduroy pants and a burnt orange sweater, and a cream silk scarf had partially covered her head. It was funny to him that he actually remembered that. Now that he could actually see her. Wow. “Deidre is that you?”

The woman looked up and never so much as attempted a smile. It was then that he noticed she looked a bit pale and along with the carry on she held in her left hand she dragged three enormous suitcases stacked up behind her.

“My God, woman. You are just staying a few days right?” he asked, reaching around her and taking the telescopic handle she hung on to, relieving her of the melee of bags.

“Kurt? Long time no see.” Deidre tugged the purse handle on her shoulder a bit tighter and huffed. “You’re late.”

“Well, you should have thought of that possibility when you expected someone to get here before the chickens woke up. Do you know what traffic is like out there right now?” Kurt forgot the breathless feeling he’d experienced when he first looked at her.

“Of course I do. Did you forget I used to live here? I like to travel early and with some planning the traffic should never be a problem.” She fanned herself with one hand. “I’m ready to go.” With that she stomped off toward the double doors that would take them back to the parking garage in a quick march.

“I can understand why you haven’t seen her in a while,” the old woman said and laughed. “I wouldn’t want to either.”

This was going to be a treat, Kurt thought to himself. Not only was she a city girl, she thought her stuff didn’t stink. Did she think he was nothing more than her chauffer and concierge for the week? Well, she had another think coming. He watched her perfectly round butt swishing back and forth seductively and gave the heap of baggage a tug. How she managed to pull the mammoth mess as far as she had was beyond him. Before he made it ten feet past where he’d found her she disappeared out the doors. Taking his time, Kurt made his way through the terminal all the while muttering what he really thought about her behavior quietly and smiling at the other passers-by. He took a deep breath and went out the doors.

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