Thursday, March 26, 2009
What are Genres? Here's my definition. Writing genre's are marketing categories such as romance, historical, fantasy, mystery and science fiction. Stories that have cross-genre's are historical romance, science fantasy and the one I like to call cozy romantic mysteries.
Lethal Lasagna is a cross-genre book and it's my newest title coming out by White Rose Publishing. I love this book because I've taken my favorite two genres, romance and cozy mysteries and combined them to create a cozy romantic mystery.
She has to die.
Mitzi Douglas is sweet and kind, but she’s making my life miserable. I can’t have her coming into the room and being the center of attention, it’s just not fair. A layer of lasagna noodles went into the pan.
She makes me sick! A chuckle filled the kitchen. Now that is funny … she makes me feel bad, and so I’m making a special dish to make me better, much better.
The fragrant scent of meat sauce rose as it poured on top of the pasta. Ummmm, this smells good enough to eat. But, I won’t. It’s for Mitzi alone. She’ll just die when she gets a taste of this.
Laughter filled the room, and more layers were added to the poisoned pan.
“She was my best friend. Why would I kill her?” I grumbled, resenting this recent summons to appear at the police station. A mint caught my eye as I dropped the car keys into my pocketbook. Walking and digging at the same time for the elusive candy, I pondered my friend Mitzi’s murder.
My head slammed into a wall of firm human chest. As I was propelled backwards firm fingers grabbed my upper arms.
Shocked, my gaze moved from the strong hands up to determined brown eyes. Had I not been the one falling backwards into what I knew was hot concrete, I would have found the whole scene amusing.
He jerked hard, and I found myself slamming into his chest once more. This time, he held me in place until I felt steady, and then he gently set me back. “Are you okay?”
Heat filled my face and all the spots where I’d made contact with him. “I’m sorry . . . I think so.”
“Good.” He smiled.
That simple action caused his eyes to turn from deep brown to a light caramel. My heartbeat picked up, and I couldn’t breath. Get a grip! To my shame, my senses ignored the silent command.
Posted by Rhonda Gibson at 12:00 PM