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Thursday, August 21, 2014

Throwback Thursday!

The internet takes a step back in time every Thursday as people around the world share old baby pictures, vintage prom and wedding photos, and other assorted oldies. Authors can share too! This Thursday meme highlights those books in your backlist.

In comments, tempt us with
a snippet 300 words or less from your older works. Don't forget your buy link and website/blog link. Have fun!

 Share your participation with our
ready-to-go tweet or make your own:

Discover great reads. Exquisite Quills' Throwback Thursday!    


E. Ayers said...

Ever want to run away from everything just for two weeks? Nikki did. She ran away to a little New England town called Mariner's Cove, and her life changed.


"Coming about." Brook tacked the boat, which turned them back closer to land.
They picked up speed.
"Can you guess which beach is yours?''
Nikki looked closely at the shoreline and then pointed. "There?''
He grinned and shook his head. "Try again.''
"Getting warmer.''
"Down there?''
He laughed heartily. "Guess I can't take you home if you don't know where you belong.''
She chomped on the corner of her lower lip. She knew he was teasing her, and she never really liked being teased. Somehow when he did it, she didn't feel stupid. They slowly floated towards the shore. "Maybe you'll have to take me home to your place and then drive me to mine.''
A big grin split his face. "You're reading my mind. Want lunch? Not sure what I've got to scrounge together. If the fare looks too lousy, I might have to take you into town.''
"All those groceries you bought yesterday?''
His smile widened. "Guilty. I'll take you to town for dinner.''
She cocked her head at him. Without ever actually asking her out on a date he managed to commandeer her. Or had she just allowed him to do it to her?

Rose Anderson said...

Hermes Online ~by Rose Anderson

A scorching tale of metamorphosis with a touch of divine meddling. (Psst...the Greek Gods are implied) Written in one voice so the reader can be privy to the change as a woman goes from heartbreak to rediscovery, it all happens over the internet. Here Vivienne chats with her pen pal, the man she only knows as S.


I would lap you until I feel your body tremble and you would do the same to me. Together we would discover where all the nerve endings lead.

My words had me panting again. I could literally feel him against my flattened breasts, and the downy covering all along his body treated my every nerve. They were only words, weren’t they? If so then why could I see it, why could I feel this so acutely? On impulse I added,

My fingers read you like Braille through the confines of this electronic device. I admit I find it sadly lacking.


I clicked send and waited.

“You’ve got mail” burst forth from the speakers. I discovered I had been conditioned to have an autonomic response to seeing the envelope and hearing the computerized words. Like Pavlov’s dog, I began to salivate.

Dearest V,

Indeed it is sadly lacking. How is it you’ve reached inside me this way? Are you the sorceress, the witch with unseen powers to tempt me so? I think you are, for I find myself yearning in a way I thought forever lost to me.

Find my romance wherever books are sold. Sample here:

Get to know Rose

Elizabeth Rose said...

Angel DiMitri is a social worker on vacation on Thunder Lake who goes on an unofficial call to investigate Thomas Taylor, father of six who has been accused of murdering his wife.

Doubting Thomas
by Elizabeth Rose

“This is unacceptable,” Angel said aloud, knowing now that Thomas Taylor was everything the townspeople had gossiped about.
“What’s unacceptable?” came a low voice from behind her.
She jumped in surprise, and turned around so quickly, the plate of cookies fell from her hand and hit the ground.
“Mr. Taylor!”
Standing in the doorway, one arm against the doorframe and the other on his hip, was Thomas Taylor, blocking the entrance and trapping her inside his bedroom. His tall body with rugged build was more pronounced in such small quarters. His shoulder-length hair was windblown, and his shirt was unbuttoned to the waist. Sweat glistened on his chest, and her eyes followed a droplet as it ran in a rivulet down to his slim waist and disappeared into the top of his worn jeans.
“I thought you were in Brighton,” she said, feeling the heat of her face consuming her for getting caught - no less in the man’s bedroom.
“Obviously,” he said, lowering his arm and stepping into the room.
She took a step backward as he took one forward, wishing now she’d never been so bold to enter.
“I brought over some cookies as a peace offering.” She knelt quickly, scooping the cookies back onto the plate and trying to recover them with the foil. “I wrongly accused Josh of throwing a rock at me when it was Jake who did it. I wanted to apologize and I . . .”
His feet were right in front of her nose and she looked up his long legs to his face staring down at her. One small gold hoop earring glistened in the sun from the window. His eyes were dark with anger, his face badly in need of a shave.
“Tell me, Ms. DeMitri, why are you in my bedroom?”
“I told you.” She collected up the cookies and stood to face him. “I came to make amends.”
The anger in his eyes changed as he took a step closer. She moved back, meaning to get away from him, backing into the bed and falling upon it instead.
“I can’t remember the last time a woman came to my bedroom to make amends.”
He leaned forward, a hand on each side of her as his face came so close she could feel his breath on her lips.
“Usually it only means one thing. Am I to assume you mean to make amends between my sheets?”

Kim McMahill said...

DEADLY RUINS: A once in a lifetime treasure hunt is a dream come true for archeology intern, Kay Gerard. On the fringes of the ancient Mayan city of Cobá, Kay and her mentor begin excavation on two remote temples. Their treks into the site reveal the local population’s curious ties to the ruins and Kay’s interactions with the people they encounter, especially the children, are somewhat unnerving, yet she largely ignores the ominous feelings due to the excitement of the dig.

As they get close to entering one of the temples they collide with dangerous looters, forcing Kay to flee into the jungle. The more desperate her situation becomes, the more determined she is to survive and soon finds herself in a situation with no other option except to fight for her life in the Deadly Ruins of Mexico’s unforgiving jungle.

Available on Amazon for your Kindle at or in Trade Paperback. I appreciate followers on twitter at and on my blog at

Livia Quinn said...


“I’m sorry,” He whispered raggedly.
Cass held up an unsteady hand. He only had a few words left and he wanted to get them said. He wiped his hand over his face, disgusted. Looking down he saw the rose petals crushed and broken beneath his feet. Like his heart.
He’d done it again; he’d given up his self-respect to this woman who only wanted him for sex and a piece of glorified rock. And this time he’d forced himself on her in an act not entirely of love.
It was over.
He placed his fingers on her chin and waited until she returned his gaze. “When are you going to figure out that you became the successful, intelligent, creative woman you are, despite that sonofabitch of a father? You might flash the Blood in your father’s face, but you’ll only be disappointed if you think it will make him respect you.”
“No, I—”
He pulled his pants on, his shoulders hunched, shook his head. When he turned to her, she ached at the pain and defeat in his eyes.
“You’re terrified of relying on someone, on me— trusting me.”
She couldn’t speak because what he said was true. At least it had been— once.
He stroked her cheek, a slight tremor in his fingers then his hand dropped to his side, “You’re breaking my heart, sheila.”
He walked to the door, said quietly, “Whatever it takes, I’ll get your opal. Then maybe I can move on.”
“But—” he’d tuned her out.
“I won’t touch you again.” As if all his energy had been drained, he rested his forehead against the hard wood. “I have to try to move on.”
Then he was gone.

JoAnne Myers said...

This weeks snippet is from my mystery "Murder Most Foul" based on a 1982 crime.

Scenario: F.B.I. Agent Walker Harmon approaches his antagonist Sheriff Brown at the newest crime scene.

Meanwhile, across town, the sheriff's men unearthed the riddled bodies of the Bush brothers in a shallow grave. Both sustained multiple bullet wounds to their backs, suggesting they were shot while fleeing.
“Don't tell me that the weapon used was a .22, and the tongue left in Jackie's mailbox probably belongs to one of these poor dopes?” Harmon asked.
Sipping his coffee, the sheriff said, “Correct on all accounts. And we found bags of clothin'. Like they were leavin' town.”
Have you talked to Harold Tommers yet about what he saw that evening?” Harmon asked.
“No, and I'm not gonna talk to him,” the sheriff said. “As advanced as his dementia is, he could hide his own Easter eggs.”
Fed up with the sheriff's indifference toward the possible innocence of Vernon James, Harmon asked. “Any new suspects or evidence I should check out?”
“Little green men could be killin' people in this county for all I care,” the cocky sheriff said.
That’s all Harmon could take. With a solid right punch, the sheriff lay flat on his back and dazed. When the initial shock wore off, the sheriff fumed. “I’ll have your badge for this.”
Looking down at the lawman covered in coffee, Harmon shouted, “And you should never have been issued a badge. You’re a heartless bastard.”
During the court recess, reporters lingering outside the courthouse reported anything they heard while snapping pictures of anyone connected with the case. Upon learning the defense had suggest the murderer might be female, they quickly rallied public opinion:

Here is the link to buy it directly from LULU:


Rosemary Gemmell said...

From my Victorian novella set at Twelfth Night, Mischief at Mulberry Manor by Romy Gemmell:

This time, Maryanne sat up at once, eyes searching the room. But no strange shadows hid in the corners and she concentrated on the indistinct but definite sound. Perhaps a sharp cry? But not from within her own bedroom.
All thoughts of sleep banished, Maryanne climbed from the high bed and gathered a woollen shawl around her nightgown. Pushing aside any fear or reservations about being abroad in her aunt’s house in the middle of the night, she lit the remains of the tallow candle and carefully opened her door.
At first, the corridor appeared empty in the dim light and Maryanne sighed in relief. No doubt the talk of ghosts played on her mind and woke her from a dream. She had no sooner decided to return to her room when a movement caught the corner of her eye and she quickly turned back to the length of corridor.
She stared as a man seemed to turn from the door of Emily and Charlotte’s room and silently move towards a door at the furthest end of the corridor. Puzzled as to why someone should be outside the bedroom of two young maids at this time of night, she wondered if it might be their brother, Henry. But even in the weak light, Maryanne knew without a doubt that this figure was not dressed in the fashion of the late 1850s. As she continued to watch, heart beating faster but unable to turn away, the figure paused and turned to look full at Maryanne before seemingly disappearing before her eyes. Then her candle extinguished, as though someone had breathed on it.

Romy Gemmell

Mary Magdeline said...

HAWK'S GIFT - by Mary M. Forbes

From the moment Bobbie stepped into the house, she was aware of him. She could smell an elusive, wild scent. She could feel him in the excited air as though he was touching her. No. How could they be so cruel? She tried to calm herself as she stepped into the room. After three long years, Bobbie felt as though she were starving. Her hungry gaze turned to him. He was standing by the window. Sunlight filtered in on his lean frame. His face was shadowed.
He wore tight jeans, as though denim had been invented specifically for him. A black shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He was as tantalizing and primitive exciting as ever. She felt the jolts wracking her body.
Fighting her tortured equilibrium valiantly, she refused to look into his eyes, his bewitching, devil eyes. Instead she studied the heavy gold chain around his neck. A golden cross dangled from the chain.
A raw, futile moan clogged her throat. She fought for composure. She didn’t want to see him. Closing her eyes, she tried to ignore the longings washing throughout her body.
“Here’s your wine, mignonne.” His voice was that same husky sound, like water running over pebbles, gravel and soft simultaneously.
There was nowhere to hide.
“Did you know?” Bobbie whispered. She looked up helplessly into his eyes. She could feel his magnetic heat immediately.
“Did I know what?” Damien smiled. He didn’t look surprised to see her.
“That I was coming?”
“Of course I knew mignonne. I always knew when you were coming.” His voice was smooth rapture. He moved with catlike grace, closer.
Not even glancing at the sleeping baby in her arms, he touched her shoulder. “Marie, take the baby.”
“I’ll just lay her on our bed for now.” Marie gushed, reaching down to stroke Lisa’s soft cheek. “What a little darling, Mrs. Watson. You are so fortunate.”
“Mrs. Watson?” Damien’s voice turned hard.
“Yes, I was married.” Bobbie’s voice trailed off as she noticed Damien watching her lips with special interest. Oh my God, Please help me. “He was killed tragically by savage Indians…”
“Didn’t you say he died at sea?” Marie turned from the hall, looking startled.
“Perhaps she’s had two more husbands.” Damien’s sensual mouth quirked, revealing his dimples. Bobbie wanted only to touch those lovely creases with her lips. “That makes three, doesn’t it? Take your wine, mignonne.”
“I don’t drink.” With stiff reserve, Bobbie forced her shaking legs to move over to the chair. She needed to sit down. What game is he playing now?
“I know you don’t drink.” Damien moved over to the chair. He leaned down, his breath tickling her ear with erotic skill. She winced.
He carefully placed the wine glass into her hand and Bobbie automatically downed the contents.
“Is that your carriage in the driveway?” Bobbie laughed softly, as the warmth of the wine penetrated.
“Yes. My horse was brutally murdered by savage Indians.” Damien grinned, raising an eyebrow. He walked over to the sideboard, bringing a bottle back to her chair. Holding her hand, he carefully poured some red liquid into her empty glass. “No, it’s Madeline’s.”
“Madeline?” Bobbie’s eyes narrowed vehemently. Was she his current wife? She wanted to fling herself up and scratch his eyes out, then go away and die. “Where is she?”

This is available on Amazon: - More information is availabe on my website -

James D said...

This snippet is from book one of my series, DREAM STUDENT. My heroine, Sara, is talking with her best friend and her boyfriend about her newly-discovered ability to step into other people's dreams:

“I’m fine. I was just thinking. First of all, I’m not sure that pimping out Diana qualifies as ‘good.’”

Beth protests, “You say pimp, I say matchmaker.” She doesn’t give me the chance to respond. “It’s in a good cause. She obviously must be interested in him, and if he had any sense he’d be interested in her instead of Annie Sellers. We’re just helping nature take its course, right?”

I shrug. What can I say, really? Besides, she probably is right, at least about that little part of the dreams. The thing is, she’s so interested in using my dreams to play matchmaker that she hasn’t considered something else; if I can use what I’m seeing to (hopefully) help people I know, then don’t I have to use what I’m seeing in the nightmares to do something about them too?

Another thought goes through my mind just now, and it throws me off track. “If I’ve got a power, right? I’m psychic, or whatever you want to call this, right? Well, where’s my wise mentor? In every story I can think of, people who suddenly find they have a special power or something always have one. King Arthur had Merlin. Luke Skywalker had Obi-Wan. The Scottish guy in that stupid movie Ron likes, where they’re all cutting each other’s heads off…”

“Connor MacLeod,” Brian pipes in. “And the movie is ‘Highlander.’

Beth snorts. “All you guys like that movie. I’ll never understand it.”

“Anyway,” I say, trying to get back on track. “Connor whatever, he had Sean Connery to mentor him, right? So where’s the old wise master to tell me how to deal with all this?” Brian’s amused by the thought, but Beth has a different reaction.

“I’d let Sean Connery tell me what to do,” she sighs. “Anytime.”

Find it at (it's free!)

Lois Winston said...

from TALK GERTIE TO ME by Lois Winston:

“Times Square. Crossroads of the world,” said Reese with a flourish of her arm as we exited the subway onto Forty-second Street. “And the only place in New York where you're guaranteed not to find a New Yorker.” She scowled at me. “Except us.”

“You're a good friend,” I told her.

“You bet I am.” We headed around the corner, shouldering our way through a crowd congregating in front of a tabletop Rolex salesman. Reese nodded toward the gullible tourist handing over two crisp twenties to the sidewalk hustler. “A sucker born every minute,” she said, loud enough for several heads to turn and stare at us. Subtlety wasn't Reese's strong suit.

I thought about the watch I bought for my father's birthday the first week I arrived in the city. Heat crept up my neck. “Not too long ago I was that sucker.”

She elbowed me in the ribs and laughed. “But we cured you. Now you're one of us.”

“Damn right.” I nodded in appreciation. “Good-bye small town Iowa naivete; hello cosmopolitan New Yorker.”

“So, Miss Cosmopolitan New Yorker, explain why you dragged me to Disney World North on our lunch hour.”

When I stopped walking and indicated the restaurant to my left, she tossed back her head of multi-colored dreadlocks and groaned. “This is about Dave, isn't it?”

My goofy grin said it all. I, Nori Stedworth, was in love. Head-over-heels, butterflies-in-the-stomach, heart-pounding, walking-on-clouds, song-singing in love with a capital L-O-V-E. For the first time in my nearly twenty-six years as a living, breathing homo sapien.

Yes, I had been in love before. At least I thought so at the time. In hindsight, though, each of my previous relationships -- all of which could be counted on one hand with a couple of fingers to spare -- had fallen into either the Puppy Love, Infatuation, or Lust categories. Unfortunately, this revelation always dawned as I picked up the pieces of both my shattered heart and fractured ego. But I was older and wiser now; I've learned from my failures. And this time I knew beyond a shadow of doubt that it was the real thing. Love with a capital L-O-V-E.

Buy Links:




Lois Winston

Gianna Simone said...

This is from Claimed by the Devil, the first in my series of paranormal erotic BDSM-themed romances, The Bayou Magiste Chronicles. I like to describe them as Harry Potter for adults – with kink!

"Helene, wake up. Belle chere, wake up. You're having a bad dream."
The shaking intensified, Devlin's voice cutting through her shrill screams. She opened her eyes and scrambled away. The confusion in his stare made her more frantic. When he reached for her, she backed right out of the bed, landing hard on her ass. The shock and pain jolted her into full awareness. A dream. All a dream. Not real. She choked back a sob and buried her face in her hands.
Devlin's arms came around her. He brought her back to bed as the lights flicked on. Several minutes passed before she settled comfortably.
"It was just a dream," he repeated, stroking her hair soothingly. "Not real. You're safe."
She lifted her head from his shoulder. "I know. It was about that night."
The color drained from his face. "What brought it on?"
She shrugged. The dream's fear still lingered. She hesitated before answering.
"I don't know." The feel of his hand running soothingly along her arm eased her agitation. "It seemed so real."
He closed his eyes; she hated the bleakness there when he opened them again. They hadn't spoken much about that night, and oddly, Helene still hesitated to do so. As if talking about it might somehow undo everything that had grown between them the last weeks.
"I wish it never happened."
She nodded. "I know. For a long time, I didn't remember it clearly. But the dream reminded me of something I'd forgotten."
"What's that?" He twined his fingers with hers, studying them for a moment.
"What DeGarza said ... that you wanted to ... want to claim me? Devlin, is that true? Did it really happen?"
He stared for several moments, his face completely empty of emotion. Finally, he nodded. "It did."
"Tell me."

Elysa said...

Great Story! I love Ms Rose's Tarnished Saints series.

Elysa said...

What happens when Star Trek meets Planet of the Apes? You get STAR CRASH my sexy, sci-fi romance

"What mad scheme are you planning?"

Alex's tone reminded Cora of all the times he'd asked that question while they were at the academy. Now, as then, she knew he would try to talk her out of doing anything dangerous. He'd always been the cautious one, looking before he leaped and weighing the odds of success before he tried anything. His careful study of the facts would have served him well as a First Contact diplomat. She on the other hand preferred to gamble. Pilots had to be willing to take calculated risks. And now as then, she'd prevail. She had to. Their lives depended on it. In this she couldn't give him a choice. Couldn't let him retain control.

She led him into the chamber and sat with him on the pallet. "We need to get out of here, to escape. You can't be here for them to take you tomorrow."

"I've told you, escape is impossible."

"Us here together is impossible, but it happened. We--I can't . . . I won't stay here. I'd rather die trying to escape than remain an animal in a cage, but . . ." Her voice broke. "I can't leave you behind."

Elysa Hendricks

Crane Hana said...

Crane Hana w/a M.H. Crane
M/M fantasy erotica short story 'Saints and Heroes'
pub. 2012 in Thrones of Desire anthology (insp. by Game of Thrones) from Cleis Press
author site:

buy link:

Blurb: a runaway husband and reluctant Dom confronts the cost of thwarting destiny.


“A genuine Singer-clan earthwitch!” Taking two steps for each of tall Borsa Eld’s, the guide rubbed his hands together. “You could charge gold telling fortunes at the Sleeper’s Temple tonight.”

“I’m here to pray for guidance, not make money,” said Borsa.

The guide looked at Borsa’s worn clothing. “Consider it.”

Borsa blinked at the noon sun pouring down into the narrow, banner-festooned street. He tugged the hood of his grey linen coat deeper over his face and tall, whisker-fringed ears. His pale gold beard, perfect for warmth in the cold South, felt sticky from the tropical heat.

A scream sounded from the maze of alleys.

“What was that?” Borsa couldn’t track the sound through the hood.

“Someone celebrating early. The best courtesan houses are on this hill, and every wealthy merchant and noble is in Ajara City today.”

“Market day?”

The guide laughed. “They await the Northwarden and his Lady Consort, the new Saint.” He turned when he realized Borsa had stopped. “You didn’t know about the Consorts’ Progress?”

“Oh,” said Borsa, feeling stupid. “I’ve been away in the glacier-lands. Consorts? I knew about the man, from twelve years ago.”

“The Lord Consort never shows himself. Shy or not, he has to share, now. The Northwarden’s courted a Jade Coast princess for five years, and finally won her.”

“What bargain did she drive, I wonder?”

“Whatever she wants. He’s the Lord of Sorcery, awake and rutting again, after leaving us Sirrithani all alone for six thousand years. The richest man in the world, and immortal,” said the guide. “And she’s his latest ordained bride.”

Angela Skaggs said...

This is from the first book in the Finding Series, Finding Grace.

Grace Parker has lived her whole life trying to be the person that everyone expects her to be. She’s got a mind-numbing job, a lackluster life and a desire to find out if there’s more out there than she’s ever known.

Wealthy businessman Aiden McKinney’s life is so tightly controlled, he’s not sure it even qualifies as a life anymore. He’s always been the one making the rules and watching everyone else dance to his whims. He breaks his golden rule of not mixing business with pleasure when he meets Grace at a PR event for his firm.

He turns her world upside down and for the first time ever, he lets someone see behind the icy facade he shows to the world.

As they navigate the unknown, exploring the boundaries of their sexuality and their relationship, they learn more about themselves along the way.

“Would you like to dance?”
She glanced over at the mobbed dance floor and then back to him. Her stomach began to dance and tumble at the thought of him touching her – and touch her he would, there wasn’t but a tiny space available on the packed square off to their right. “I’d love to.”
They rose together and he reached for her hand, enclosing it his larger one as he led her through the crowd. The small dance floor was packed with bodies, but they all moved aside as Aidan threaded his way through, his larger body creating a path for her. He led her over to the far corner and put her against the wall, his back to the crowd, protecting her further. Just as they got settled, the music segued into a slow number. He smiled and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. With the kitten heels Kelcie had made her wear, the top of her head just barely topped his shoulder. Tucking her face into his neck, she moved closer until she was cradled against his big, hard body, the rest of the room forgotten as they swayed slowly to the beat.
Tension swirled madly in her stomach as he held back the crush of bodies against them, his hands resting lightly on her hips, drawing slow circles against the thin silk of her dress. Never in her life had she been happier to be wearing what she was wearing, the thin material being no barrier to the feel of his fingers on her skin.

Christiane France - Author said...

By Christiane France (Also available at Amazon Kindle and

For a Friday night, the bar wasn’t that busy, there were plenty of empty seats, but the moment Blaine sat down on one of the barstools, another man sat down beside him. “Buy you a drink, bro?”
Blaine turned toward the voice and found he was looking at yet another of the handsome strangers who showed up nightly in the bars and clubs near the beach, looking to make a connection. This time it was a guy who Blaine figured was in his mid-forties, casually dressed in designer jeans and an open shirt with a thick gold chain nestling against the sprinkling of hair on his broad chest. He looked like a male model for something rugged like mountain climbing or big game hunting--short, black hair, dark brown eyes, handsome as sin and loaded with the kind of animal magnetism anyone, himself included, would have to be dead not to appreciate.
Temptation looking for a place to hang its hat is how Colin would have described the dude, but Blaine wasn’t interested in doing anything except getting his old life back. “No, thanks. I’m fine.”
The man snuggled his leg up close to Blaine’s. “You meeting someone here?”
Blaine moved his leg away. But before he could think up a polite way of telling the guy to give him a break and go hit on someone else, the barman saved him the trouble by placing a glass of Blaine’s favorite brew in front of him and saying, “Hey, man, thought you’d gone for the night.”
“No. I just stepped out for a few minutes.”
“Jay hasn’t found a tenant for his condo yet, has he?”
“Not yet.” Blaine took a long, refreshing pull of the cold beer and put the glass down. “Why? You know someone who’s interested?”
“Yeah. Him.” Blaine followed the man’s glance to the far end of the bar. “He says he’s looking for something temporary. You have the key, right?”
“Yeah. But it’s at home.”
“He strikes me as the responsible type, so maybe you should take him over there and show him around?”
“Sure. If that’s what he wants.”
“Okay. I’ll go tell him.”
Blaine had hoped the prospective tenant would be someone else. But he might have guessed it would be the same man he’d noticed earlier, the classy, sun-streaked blond who’d reminded him of Colin. If the slight resemblance had been all that caught his attention, it wouldn’t have mattered. Trouble was it had been more than that. A whole helluva lot more, in fact. With that one half-glance his composure had suffered a real jolt. It was the first time he’d been attracted to anyone since losing Colin, and he’d been so damn scared of making the same dumb mistake, he’d taken off.

Elizabeth Rose said...

Elysa has a wonderful imagination when it comes to creating foreign worlds. Her Moon Series is unique and original as well. :)

Jana Richards said...

Hi! This snippet is from my first published novel, HER BEST MAN. Sarah gets dumped at the altar and then finds herself sharing a cabin on a cruise ship with her ex-fiance's brother Will when he decides to impersonate his brother and go on the honeymoon cruise. To save face, they pretend to be newlyweds:

Ted’s love for Josie shone in his eyes, despite her lack of tact. He knew all her foibles, weaknesses and plain old stupidities and he still loved her. Sarah wondered why someone couldn’t love her like that. She stared at her engagement ring and thought of the day Brad had given it to her. She’d been so happy and so hopeful of a wonderful future. But now all her plans and dreams were gone, her hopes of having a family of her own dashed. How could he have done that to her?

The sob seemed to come from the pit of her stomach, working its way up her body until it just burst uncontrollably out of her mouth. She covered her mouth with her hand, shocked by the emotion as well as by the tears flooding out of her eyes. To her surprise she found herself being drawn into Will’s embrace. She sniffled against his shirt, embarrassing herself further by getting his shoulder wet.

“It’s okay, Sarah,” he whispered. In a louder voice she heard him speak to the rest of the group who had stopped in mid-chew to stare at her.

“Sarah’s had a very difficult couple of weeks,” he began. This was it, she thought. This was where she got outed as a fake bride. She sucked in a breath. If he told the truth would he go to jail? Would she?

“We don’t have any rings because a few days before the wedding the jewellery store where we purchased our rings burned to the ground. Our rings were lost and Sarah was devastated. As you can see, she’s still emotional about it.”

Sarah sniffed against Will’s shoulder.What?

Thanks for reading my snippet!
Jana Richards
Amazon Author Page

Mellie said...

Gambler's Folly--last year's release.

“I’ll give you one more chance, Mr. O’Brien. Your whole debt,
free and clear on the next hand. One more bet, one more game of
chance. You win, everything is wiped clean,” the man in the shadows
Trae was in a very bad way, just now. Running his hands through
his short, sandy hair made it stick up worse than it already had. Blue
eyes troubled, sweat trickling down his back, he was desperate to
have anything go his way, but his luck just wouldn’t turn. Now
heavily indebted to one of the most dangerous men on the pleasure
paradise Gambler’s Folly, he had to do something.
“But I have nothing else to put on the table,” Trae insisted.
“You’ve already won everything I’ve got.”
“Not quite. You have one more possession.”
“The lovely Karianna. If you win, you keep her and leave debtfree.
If you lose, Mr. Leone keeps the lady, and everything else is
cleared? Agreed?”
“Kari, my wife? No, no deal!”
“That’s a shame, Mr. O’Brien. If that’s the way you want it, you
have thirty days to come up with the 1,000,000 Marks you owe. If
you fail, your life is forfeit.”

Daryl Devore said...

From my twisted fairy tale- Sexy Red Hood

When the elevator doors slid open, Red stepped into the hallway. Before her, stood the impressive glass and brass doors of Hood's Chocolatier--the corporate offices of one of the country's largest independent chocolate makers. She stepped through the doorway, and marched toward her cubicle.
Three steps from her destination, the word, "Esmeralda!" broke the silence.
Caught! She sighed, formed a smile, turned. "Yes, Mother?"
"Where have you been? I've called and called."
"I noticed. Six voice mails and fourteen text messages. Nothing said urgent. You seem fine. I'm fine. So what's the big deal?" She frowned. "Oh no, is it Grandma?"
Her mother threw her hands up. "Yes!"
"What? What's wrong with her? Is she sick? She didn't fall and break anything, did she?"
Her mother rubbed her forehead. "She's driving me out of my mind."
Red bit back the sentence – Oh happy day – and instead managed to say, "What's she done now?"
Entering at the door marked R. Hood, Red had barely stepped into the office, when her mother pushed her aside, closed the door and stood before her. "Your grandmother has booked a stateroom on a cruise ship and is taking a man with her."
Sensing So, was the wrong answer, Red let her mother vent whatever bothered her. This day could still be saved. If her mother stayed focused on the crisis-of-the-moment she might forget the weekly discussion of her love life.
"A man. Did you hear me?"
"Yes, Mother." Red tried to swallow back the sarcastic tone.
"I haven't told you this before, but your grandmother's going through your grandfather's money faster than you can go through a tub of maple walnut ice cream after a breakup."

Amazon –
Blog – Erotic Notions –

Victoria Adams said...

From book 1 of Circles Trilogy – Dancing in Circles –NA contemporary romance

"Have you seen the new guy? We're talking stud material." Tricia sighed as she texted and walked with her friends down the school hallway. "That body...that face...those eyes."
"We are aware of his anatomical structure." Francine sniffed. "I don't think he's all that great."
"You?" Tricia put her hand on her chest. "Francine Paulin, are rejecting the most perfect assemblage of male anatomy in this whole deprived – or is it depraved – school?"
"What aren't you telling us?" Jennifer popped the top on her lip-gloss-of-the-month and coated her lips with Swanky Pink. "Oh God. Ssh. Here he comes." The subject of their discussion headed in their direction.
Tricia leaned closer to Jennifer. "The gods did right by this one. He's got to be 6'2" or more, and his chest looks like it's going to burst right through his shirt."
Heather looked at her shoes and whispered, "Never seen eyes that dark before. She glanced out of the corner of her eye. "They're…so sexy."
Sexually intriguing. Julie stiffened at her thought. What the…?
Francine rolled her eyes. "Grotesque. Jeans and a T-shirt, in Westland Prep. I know we don't wear uniforms, but come on, show some level of civility. And his hair is much too long." She flicked her silky, long black hair over her shoulders. "Definitely not up to the standards of Westland Prep."
With everyone deep in their thoughts, silence fell on the five young women who defined this clique: Tricia, Francine, Jennifer, Heather and Julie.
They'd been friends since preschool. They dressed to the latest codes, and dated the right boys. To them, prep school was the period between high school and marriage. A time to hunt for the perfect date, shop and enjoy life. Prepping for college was the last thing on their minds.

Dancing in Circles -
Blog – Victoria's Pages of Romance –

Susan Macatee said...

From my Civil War time travel romance, Erin's Rebel, published in 2009.

"Ma'am," someone called, startling her. "I'm mighty pleased to see you're up."

She turned in the direction of the deep voice. Am I dreaming? She licked her dry lips as she stared into the dark eyes that had haunted her dreams.

"Ma'am? You look a might peaked."

As he moved closer, her knees turned to jelly. Strong, hard-muscled arms embraced her, offering support. Her head spun. She lifted a hand to stop the motion and encountered wool, a double row of metal buttons and a rock-hard chest. The enticing aroma of sandalwood mixed with a musky, masculine scent, plus a tinge of wood smoke invaded her senses. Had she hit her head harder than she'd thought?

She gazed at his lightly tanned face. Firm lips tilted upward slightly at the corners surrounded by a thin chocolate-colored mustache curving into a neatly-trimmed beard covering only his chin. Thick, dark hair brushed his collar and curled from beneath a broad-brimmed black hat. Her pulse raced as she leaned against his long, solid frame. Night after night in her dreams she'd run her hands through those curls.

"How can you be here?" she murmured.

"Pardon me, ma'am?"

"I don't understand." She tried to wrench from his grasp, but he gathered her close, lifting her into his arms. "What are you doing?"

"Taking you back where you belong?" He carried her back to the tent entrance where Doc peered out.

Anonymous said...

The Garnet Dagger Book 1 Legends of Oblivion Fantasy/ Paranormal Romance - my debut novel and published over a year ago:
I’ve known death. For over half a millennia, I escorted many to death at the end of my sword. In the eyes of the dying, I watched it shroud them. Foolishly, I thought many more eras would pass before death came for me. It came so swiftly that I could not run; I could not escape. At a village, dressed in human clothes, I took in everything.
I delayed my return to my people, the Elvin, as I watched human jugglers bounce torches and knifes. It was autumn equinox and the festivities would continue well into the night. Children laughed as they chased each other. A trail of leaves from their costumes twirled after them. It was dark when I reached the forest.
A gasp rustled through the trees.
I hiked slower than my normal speed, so as not to startle whatever human called out. My leather boots crunched upon dried, diseased leaves and bark. Horrified, I glanced up. Branches twisted around each other to suffocating. Lifeless limbs cracked in the wind. Flesh of the trees sloughed off in layers, exposing its bones. Gashes hollowed out chunks of warmth. Fragments of leaves clung to finger tips, marking sepulchers of the dying trees. Trees mourned with wails like splitting wood, and I brought my hands over my ears. I must flee before I became infected, they told me. Flee before the stain of this defilement creeps into you, they warned. Trees spoke to my kind, always had. Yet these trees were in such agony of death that I could not breathe. Felt as though my lungs had folded in on themselves, like a moth unable to break loose from its cocoon.

Amazon buylink:

Thank you.

Anonymous said...

From my late husband (and my) novella, "A Dark and Stormy Night" -- also known as the Adventures of Joey Maverick, book one, published in November of 2013. (Genre: militarySF/sailing/disaster relief/some romance, as Joey meets the love of his life during this rescue mission.)


"What do you mean, giving me orders like that?" the woman asked resentfully, pacing back and forth in the close quarters of the main cabin. Her eyes darted to the makeshift beds two of the injured crewmen lay in before looking back at Joey as if he was a personal affront. "I'm Belinda Simpson, a civilian, and I demand –"

Joey stifled a sigh; it wouldn't do if he showed anything less than calm, cool competence at this point, and sighing wouldn't help that impression. Instead, he cut off her diatribe with a short, sharp arm movement, and replied, "You're in no position to demand anything. We're all in the same boat, so to speak." He smiled winningly. "Besides, there are many more people out there. Some of them have to still be in the water, and we need to get on with things or we won't find them, much less rescue them."

Belinda Simpson was a large woman; with her long, red hair and flashing green eyes, she would have been very attractive if her loud voice hadn't been yelling nearly constantly since she came aboard, Joey admitted to himself. But that voice of hers was a liability, especially when raised in anger, as it could probably take the paint off ships at a hundred kilometers. "I agree, but who put you in charge, anyway?"

"George Shearwell," Joey said curtly.

"Shearwell isn't my skipper," Belinda said. "Why should I follow you?"

"Because I know what I'm doing," he replied.

* * * *

End snippet.

Buy link: Available only at Amazon --

Come visit me at Barb Caffrey's Blog (aka Elfyverse):

Thanks much!

Margaret Fieland said...

Relocated, by Margaret Fieland
When fourteen-year-old Keth's dad is transferred to planet Aleyne, he doesn't know what to expect. Certainly not to discover Dad grew up here, and studied with Ardaval, a noted Aleyni scholar. On Aleyne, Keth’s psi ability develops. However, psi is illegal in the Terran Federation. After a dangerous encounter with two Terran teenagers conflict erupts between Keth and his father. Keth seeks sanctuary with Ardaval. Studying with the Aleyne scholar Keth learns the truth about his own heritage. After Keth's friend's father, Mazos, is kidnapped, Keth ignores the risks and attempts to free him. Little does he realize who will pay the cost as he becomes involved with terrorists.

I wasn’t scared, since Dad told me about the need to take a psi exam. The Aleyni checked for any plant or animal, or whether we planned a terrorist attack. Dad said Federation anti-psi fanatics attacked a couple of times recently, so I understood why they checked carefully.
The examiner set me in a chair. He asked me again if I consented to the exam. When I said yes, the examiner put his hands on the sides of my face, looking into my eyes.
His hands burned hot against my skin. A thousand ants chewed through my brain and a voice whispered questions I couldn’t quite make out. I tried to take a breath, but my throat tightened, and I gasped aloud. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to stop shaking. I shook my head, trying to make the voices go away, and the examiner removed his hands and stared into my eyes for a moment. The buzzing voices stopped leaving my head feeling as though it would burst open. The examiner smiled at me and passed me through the checkpoint. A couple of minutes went by before my stomach stopped heaving, but hammers still pounded inside my head.
Afterward, we walked through the spaceport. I stopped short and stared. I’d never seen a more beautiful place. The flowers planted around the gray port buildings waved in the light breeze, and the air smelled like cinnamon and cloves. Warm sun beat down on my head, and the sound of birds cawing reached my ears. I took a breath of spicy air. The twist in my gut relaxed.


My author page on muse:

Muse Relocated link:

Amazon Relocated ebook:

Savanna Kougar said...


Sheridan had resorted to dressing in the way he used to passion smolder over. She had no idea if that was still true.

Sapphire blue, gleaming sapphire. The luxury satin dress fit her curves, bared her arms, bared her legs from the knee down to her matching high heels. The pearls around her throat matched the moon’s color of last evening and provided a tiny touch of comfort.

Sliding her fingers along her pearls, Sheridan moved up the long curving sweep of stairs, low steps designed for a woman. Butterflies battled to escape her stomach once she stood at the top on the wine red carpet.

Keeping her feet moving, she glided toward the open office door, as if she moved inside a pocket of air. Reality seemed a horizon away.

He didn’t speak when she entered. He casually leaned back on his chair, one foot propped up on the dark shining wood of his enormous desk. Potent power and grace, he stood, silently moving to one side.

He motioned to a swivel cushioned chair before his desk. His presence had always made her feel sultry. Once his sultry woman. It was no different now. Her whole body was a sultry sizzle rhythm. She felt it to her core as she approached the chair and sat.

Her legs crossed, she steepled her fingers, watching him pivot. Lithe, powerful as a cougar, he returned to his chair. She’d seen the media’s view of him, unavoidable in her ‘horse show’ circle. Confronted with him, her breath demanded freedom from her body.

Like a cougar, the way he moved, his fierce intense nature, that was how she’d always seen him. Cougar in male beautiful form. Cougar spirit incarnated to man.

Goddess behold! She had loved him.

Lady Sheridan & Baron Zaggry invite you to read their love story ~
ALL SHADES OF BLUE PARADISE ~ an aristocratic fantasy of fiercest passion ~ available from Siren Publishing ~ ~


Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance ~