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Friday, September 5, 2014

NEW! Tasty Genre Samples

Authors often write across genres. Today's meme offers a chance to highlight our works beyond romance.

In comments, share a blurb or excerpt up to 300 words. Be sure to add your website/blog link and one link to where your books can be found. Example: Your Amazon Author's Page.

 
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Discover great reads on Exquisite Quills' Mixed Genre Share!    

12 comments:

Sam Cheever said...

Thanks so much for the opportunity to share my paranormal cozy mystery series!

Antiques can be a dangerous business. Especially when you’re dealing with a desperate politician, a sexy ex-cop, and a couple of “spirited” companions.

Anna Yesterday owns Yesterday’s Antiques in small town USA. When she finds an old newspaper clipping lining the drawer of an antique dresser, she realizes she’s never heard the ugly story of rape and suicide detailed on the yellowed newsprint. So she starts to dig, and her sleuthing exposes an ugly cover-up that casts the residents of Crocker, Indiana into danger and intrigue, and leaves them with a corpse.

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Yesterdays-News-Yesterday-Mysteries-Book-ebook/dp/B009R9B7LG B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/yesterdays-news-sam-cheever/1114306491?ean=2940148917250

Jacqueline Seewald said...

Jacqueline Seewald
THE BAD WIFE—How bad is she? Find out for yourself!
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00J6PCKVW
A Kim Reynolds mystery from Perfect Crime Books

J. S. Eaton said...

Enter the exciting fantasy world of Aeonith. Adventure awaits within! Follow the adventures of the lone monk, Tscon Lightbringer, as he tries to bring some peace to his troubled soul. And Book Two of the fascinating Arcania Rising series has just been released. Don't miss these exciting series!

http://aeonith.webs.com
https://authorcentral.amazon.com/gp/books

darlene deluca said...

The Storm Within, women's fiction by Darlene Deluca . . . a story of family, friends, and finding the will to start again.

http://www.amazon.com/Storm-Within-Women-Whitfield-Book-ebook/dp/B00EOWCKZS/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409925692&sr=1-3&keywords=darlene+deluca

Excerpt:

Claire stayed in the car for a few more minutes, her body quivering. She knew she must look a complete mess, but she didn’t care. She got out of the car and made her way back to the hospital, again ignoring the stares coming her direction. She shuddered a deep breath. Didn’t matter. Those stares were for a woman who no longer existed. As of this day, that pathetic excuse for a living person was gone. Be the person you want to be.
She didn’t want to be that person anymore.
Claire dropped into a chair in the lobby, trying to collect herself, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Several people stopped and offered help, but she waved them away.
“I’m fine, really.”
When she saw a tall redhead rush through the automatic doors, her face etched with concern, Claire stood. The instant she met Stella’s eyes, the woman bolted forward, arms outstretched. The yellow shirt burst toward her like a bright sunny day, full of hope and warmth.
This woman Claire had never seen in her life, wrapped Claire in a fierce hug, and squeezed, rocking her back and forth.

Thea Hartley said...

Tommy Horton arrived in the new Industrial Town of Merthyr Tydfil in 1900 determined to find his fortune. He becomes a coster monger, started a scra metal business, founded a boxing stable, spent some time in jail, bounced back to prosper and bought a football club, finally building his factory to produce his innovation..Condoms!
He liced a very varied professional and private life full f tragedy and turbulence, including a love/hate relationship with his only son and heir Ronnie.http://www.amazon.co.uk/Thea-M.-Hartley/e/B00HXWHUM4/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

Pat C. said...

Somewhere amid all the smutty romances I wrote a New Adult book with no sex. There is a romance, though. And fangirls. And vampires.

Slayer for Hire
Nineteen-year-old Billie Eshleman loves the TV show Slayer for Hire, and has a major fangirl crush on its hunky star, Dylan Garber. When the show comes to her home town to film a movie version, it’s her greatest dream come true. Unfortunately, she’s not the only fan trying to crash the set. A real vampire has fixated on the fictitious “slayer,” and is determined to make Dylan her mate—like, for the rest of eternity. With help from Dylan’s co-star, Matt—an actor with vampire-related secrets of his own—it’s up to Billie to keep her idol from joining the ranks of the undead long enough to finish the movie. And, incidentally, keep herself alive in the process.

http://www.amazon.com/Slayer-Hire-P-E-Cunningham/dp/1771302852/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1409938756&sr=1-1&keywords=Slayer+for+Hire

Blogging at:
www.titlemagic.blogspot.com
www.shapeshifterseductions.blogspot.com


Shauna Roberts said...

From my dark alternative-history novelette "The Measure of a Man":

Year of Our Lord 1598

Inacio swam with desperate strokes through the warm sea toward the island that earlier had seemed so close. When he had stood on the deck of the carrack Lionor, the emerald mountains loomed over the ship, and he needed no spyglass to see the details of the pie-wedge fields and the volcano belching smoke.

Now, no matter how hard he swam, he drew no nearer to the island. His sodden oxhide jerkin and padded purple-velvet slops, part of his spoils when the crew took the pirate ship three days earlier, weighed him down like ballast and snagged on the coral that glowed as if encrusted with rubies and carnelians.

The pirate ship. The crew’s troubles had begun when the ominous black flag appeared on the horizon. Though they defeated the ruffians, now the Lionor was doomed, and he was fleeing, hoping to avoid sharing the carrack’s fate. His gold, his swords, his boon companions—all lost. God be praised, he himself yet survived. But he needed to put more distance between himself and the Lionor.

The sea’s surface reflected flickering orange flames.
He gulped a breath and sank.

The explosion struck his ears like a bombardeiro ramrodding powder into a cannon.

Inacio crossed himself. His friends were dying now. Alberto, his beloved, the ship’s best archer, with whom he had grown up in Lisbon. Julio, the barber-surgeon, who had bandaged Inacio’s ribs after a zebra attack at the Cape of Good Hope. Valorous Captain de C├íceres y Ovando de las Varillas. And the rest of the brave crew, God rest their souls, they were good men all. He had blown up the Lionor to save their four hundred and fifty decent souls at the cost of his own.


Want to read more? Find the novelette at http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00MD7NW1W.

Visit my blog and Website at http://www.ShaunaRoberts.com.

Andrea Cooper said...

The Garnet Dagger is a primarily a fantasy with a light romance thread.

Forbidden to cross the Elvin barrier into human lands, Brock cannot sate his curiosity. Cursed by a vampyre bite that forces him to feed on the life-essence of others, he is unable to touch another without taking their life. Chained by prophesy, he must find a witch, pierce her heart, and draw her blood for his cure.

Celeste must escape the monks who have held her prisoner for years. Her magic has been kept dormant by her captors. An ancient powerful Warloc craves her powers. If he succeeds in devouring her magic, she and the world will die.

When Brock falls in love with Celeste before realizing her demise is his cure, will love triumph over his desire to be healed? Will he risk everything to save her from a Warloc, an oath breaker, who also wants her dead?
http://www.amazon.com/Andrea-R.-Cooper/e/B00BU2WYJM/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1

David Russell said...

Yet as Billy grew up, his home deteriorated. Behind a veneer of nonchalant plastic prosperity, creeping damp and dry rot spread relentlessly. Every possible creature comfort had been bought for the interior: colour TVs, soft furnishings, wardrobes crammed with flashy clothes. Yet behind it all, the walls crumbled and flowered with fungus. The wallpaper reeled and peeled, its jagged edges pointing in all directions, limp and sharp in one. Plaster showered down, powdery and chunky, sometimes for split seconds, sometimes for minutes on end. Mice powdered the floors with their paw-scratchings, sometimes fumbling on frayed strands of electric wiring, making blue sparks fly, giving shocks to themselves and to any human beings who were around at the time. The rattling rodent pests were badly shaken; they scurried to their crannies of safety. Switch covers were pulled off, bulbs blinked while their flexes slowly melted, emitting scorching fumes. The TV was on from early afternoon to midnight. The colours on the screen went through every possible modulation, without anyone twiddling the knob. Throughout the mornings and afternoons, the washing machine whirred and gurgled. Jack ignored the hazards. Molly, his wife, moaned on, animated by having something to grouse about:
“I bet the wiring’s never been seen to since the place was built! Everything’s going to rack and ruin – we’re living in a deathtrap here – and Billy playing with all those dangerous gadgets too; makes me feel like a cat on hot brick. Don’t know what you expect me to do about it – you go on at me quite enough about other things. We’re living in a shambles; it’s crashing about our ears. And you just loaf in your armchair!”
Yet as Billy grew up, his home deteriorated. Behind a veneer of nonchalant plastic prosperity, creeping damp and dry rot spread relentlessly. Every possible creature comfort had been bought for the interior: colour TVs, soft furnishings, wardrobes crammed with flashy clothes. Yet behind it all, the walls crumbled and flowered with fungus. The wallpaper reeled and peeled, its jagged edges pointing in all directions, limp and sharp in one. Plaster showered down, powdery and chunky, sometimes for split seconds, sometimes for minutes on end. Mice powdered the floors with their paw-scratchings, sometimes fumbling on frayed strands of electric wiring, making blue sparks fly, giving shocks to themselves and to any human beings who were around at the time. The rattling rodent pests were badly shaken; they scurried to their crannies of safety. Switch covers were pulled off, bulbs blinked while their flexes slowly melted, emitting scorching fumes. The TV was on from early afternoon to midnight. The colours on the screen went through every possible modulation, without anyone twiddling the knob. Throughout the mornings and afternoons, the washing machine whirred and gurgled. Jack ignored the hazards. Molly, his wife, moaned on, animated by having something to grouse about:
“I bet the wiring’s never been seen to since the place was built! Everything’s going to rack and ruin – we’re living in a deathtrap here – and Billy playing with all those dangerous gadgets too; makes me feel like a cat on hot brick. Don’t know what you expect me to do about it
– you go on at me quite enough about other things. We’re living in a shambles; it’s crashing about our ears. And you just loaf in your armchair!”

High Wired on: Amazon.co.uk: David Russell: Books
www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Fiction › Contemporary Fiction

David Russell said...

Yet as Billy grew up, his home deteriorated. Behind a veneer of nonchalant plastic prosperity, creeping damp and dry rot spread relentlessly. Every possible creature comfort had been bought for the interior: colour TVs, soft furnishings, wardrobes crammed with flashy clothes. Yet behind it all, the walls crumbled and flowered with fungus. The wallpaper reeled and peeled, its jagged edges pointing in all directions, limp and sharp in one. Plaster showered down, powdery and chunky, sometimes for split seconds, sometimes for minutes on end. Mice powdered the floors with their paw-scratchings, sometimes fumbling on frayed strands of electric wiring, making blue sparks fly, giving shocks to themselves and to any human beings who were around at the time. The rattling rodent pests were badly shaken; they scurried to their crannies of safety. Switch covers were pulled off, bulbs blinked while their flexes slowly melted, emitting scorching fumes. The TV was on from early afternoon to midnight. The colours on the screen went through every possible modulation, without anyone twiddling the knob. Throughout the mornings and afternoons, the washing machine whirred and gurgled. Jack ignored the hazards. Molly, his wife, moaned on, animated by having something to grouse about:
“I bet the wiring’s never been seen to since the place was built! Everything’s going to rack and ruin – we’re living in a deathtrap here – and Billy playing with all those dangerous gadgets too; makes me feel like a cat on hot brick. Don’t know what you expect me to do about it – you go on at me quite enough about other things. We’re living in a shambles; it’s crashing about our ears. And you just loaf in your armchair!”


High Wired on: Amazon.co.uk: David Russell: Books
www.amazon.co.uk › Books › Fiction › Contemporary Fiction

Mellie said...

From Jareth, First Lord
Over six feet tall with the upbringing of a Warrior Lord behind him, Jareth knew he was an imposing figure. The men he chose to accompany him from the elite guard were physically his equal. Highly trained warriors, each also possessed advanced mental abilities, called wild Talents, which proved useful both during battle and in guarding their First Lord. Their bearing was confident and dangerous, giving him the force of presence he would need for their journey.
Leaving instructions with the officer in charge, Jareth and his ten man honor guard rode to the east, their cloaks unfurled in the wind as they disappeared like dark specters into the fog and falling snow. After four days of hard riding, tired, cold and irritable, they reined into a small village a few miles out of Clan Belfort’s center. According to Jareth’s reckoning, they should be at the Belfort Manor by midmorning the next day.
Crossing the square, he reined to a stop as he felt an odd mental tickle, like a spider crawling across his brain. Using his own psychic abilities he searched the square for the source, but could find nothing definite. It seemed to come from a little shop diagonally across the square.
“Damion, do you sense anything unusual?” he asked one of his men, as he searched in that direction.
“No, First Lord. Why?”
“Just for a moment I thought I sensed an active Talent, but it’s gone now. I’m probably just tired. Don’t worry about it.” Proceeding across the square, they left the village and made camp for the evening out on the common ground as the sun set behind them.

http://melliemiller.com
http://www.freedomink365.com/jarethfirstlord

ManicScribbler said...

Thank you for this opportunity, since many of my stories cross into other genres. Here is my blurb for 'Killing Jenna Crane' a romantic/psychological thriller:

Come with me on a dark journey inside a writer's mind. Celebrity author Ellis Crawford, creator of the famous and highly successful Jenna Crane mystery series, finds his comfortable life swept away when he meets Emily, his perfect woman.

However, the more his love for Emily deepens, the more Ellis finds himself haunted by memories of a previous love whose heart he broke. On top of this, Emily wants him to kill off his beloved heroine Jenna Crane - against fierce public opinion.

With his reputation as an author in tatters, Ellis finds his life spiralling out of control. Faced with the growing darkness of his own soul, a secret is revealed that changes everything he thought he once knew…

http://www.amazon.com/Lynette-Sofras/e/B0084YN70O/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
http://www.lynettesofras.com/