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Thursday, February 5, 2015

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!    


Berengaria Brown said...

“How would you both like to come to my place and see the bookshelf I just built today?” she suggested.
“Isn’t the guy supposed to ask the gal to see his etchings?” said Zac.
“Do you have any etchings?” Parker asked.
“Actually, no. Guess we’d better go look at Gwyn’s bookshelf instead.”
Laughing they collected their things, ran up the dune, crossed the dirt road, and walked into Gwynnyth’s front yard. “Hey, this is looking good. Your folks had let the yard get kinda overrun with that creeper stuff, but the garden looks great now,” said Parker.
“Yeah, took a couple months of hard work, but it’s worth it.”
“Freaking knotweed. We’re always on the lookout for it at the golf course. Can’t let it get a hold there,” added Zac.
She unlocked the front door and let the men precede her inside. Zac hadn’t seen the living area since she’d painted it, and she wanted to hear his reaction as well as Parker’s.
“Hey it looks so much lighter, brighter. What have you done?” asked Zac.
She didn’t answer, waiting for them to work it out.
“The clunky, dark window blinds are gone,” said Parker.
Zac shook his head and swiveled around looking at everything. Parker had obviously decided he’d solved the problem and wandered over to look at her bookshelf in the corner. He thumped a fist against the sides, and the bookshelf hardly wobbled at all. Gwyn was inordinately pleased with herself.
Parker stared at the wall behind the shelf. Zac was staring at the walls now, too. Almost together they said, “That horrible dark blue paint’s gone.”
“The walls. You’ve repainted the walls.”
Parker and Zac looked at each other and laughed. “We always did think alike. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” asked Zac.
“I reckon so. Are you going to show us what changes you’ve made in the bedroom, Gwyn?”
"Hot, Wet, and Wild" by Berengaria Brown. Buy link:

E. Ayers said...

ASK ME AGAIN (A Valentine story)
By E. Ayers

At noon, he prepared sandwiches using slices from his mom's ham. /Why am I the one fixing meals for my family? Maybe it's because I'm the one who came home./

At almost four o'clock in the afternoon, he heard someone come through the kitchen door. Torrey put her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. She felt so good. Emotions surged through him. What he felt wasn't lust. He truly loved her. Without hesitation, he whispered in her ear, "I love you. Marry me."

"I love you, too, and you know that I'll marry you, but you need to get through this first. Afterwards, you can rethink your proposal. If it's still what you want, ask me again, and I'll give you the same answer."

Hand in hand, they walked back to the bedroom to continue the vigil. Rob leaned against his parents' bedroom wall and held Torrey tight. He watched his father smile and take his last breath. Rob said nothing to his mom or his siblings. Marion lowered her head to her husband's chest and openly wept. Rob looked at his watch, noted the time, and laid his head on the top of Torrey's. Silently, his own tears flowed unchecked.

Ruth put her arms around her mother and cried. Michael left the room.

When Rob had composed himself, he made the necessary phone calls and added a few things to Torrey's suitcase, including his razor and toothbrush. With his father gone, he had no intention of spending the night in the house. Ruth and his mom could mourn and comfort each other. They didn't need him.

Amazon International Buy Links.
Available as a Kindle Unlimited

Visit my blog for more books.

E. Ayers said...

Sometimes the best things happen at the worst of times.

Zanna Mackenzie said...

The Love Programme
A contemporary romance set in the Scottish Highlands - complete with castle, handsome laird and a reality TV series about love...

“Just sit on this suitcase, will you, Fi? I can’t get the stupid thing shut!”
Fiona, obligingly perching her bottom on the bulging case so Lucy could tug the zipper to close it up, said, “I can’t believe you’ve agreed to do this. You’re going to be on a TV show about love! Won’t you be embarrassed having everyone know all your business?”
Her face red from doing battle with the suitcase and, thankfully, managing to win, Lucy shook her head. “No. Where else could I get a few extra weeks off work and live the life of luxury whilst a man tries to impress me with extravagant dates? Plus, I’ll be getting relationship coaching from a top expert.”
Lucy checked around the room to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “Do you think I’ve packed the right clothes?”
Fiona lay back on the bed, stretching and spreading her arms out around her as though she was making the duvet version of a snow angel. “How should I know?”
“Mel said the programme is being recorded at the home of some Scottish laird. It’s a real mansion with a spa and acres and acres of land.”
Fiona pushed herself into an upright position, suddenly all attentive. “A laird, eh? Sounds interesting. What else do you know about him?”
“He’s not going to be one of the dates so don’t get all excited. He’s just rented his home out to the TV production company. Apparently he’ll be away on business most of the time we’re there, so we probably won’t even get to meet him.”
Fiona shook her head. “Shame, how exciting would it have been? Meeting a real life laird would be amazing.”

The Love Programme is on sale for a couple of days at just 99c /99p

Amazon UK-

Chris Redding said...

How far would you go to escape fate? As far as you would go to stop seeing ghosts? That is what Grace must decide to prevent a murder, and solve a mystery.CORPSE WHISPERER

Barbara White Daille said...

FROM Rancher at Risk by Barbara White Daille

The hero and heroine have just met after a near-accident involving her niece.

The sparks in her blue eyes made him fight not to wince. She had some justification for her anger. He wouldn’t deny that. He had good reason for getting upset, too.

But he didn’t have enough fingers for his list of regrets.

Yeah, at first fear had driven him. Once he saw the child was okay, relief had set in. But then, as with the drunken cowboy, he had let frustration take over.

He couldn’t lose it with her again.

“Look,” he said, “when I saw the girl, I thought—”

“We’ve covered what you thought.”

“Right. And you’ve said a mouthful about it. Or maybe a handful.” He gestured to her fists.

She looked down. Again she made a visible effort to gain control, to unclench her fingers and let her hands hang naturally by her sides. He ought to take notes.

When she met his eyes again, he gave her an unblinking stare.
“I’ve already apologized.” She spoke softly, indistinctly again, making him strain to focus on her words. “I’ll say it one more time. I’m sorry Becky ran into the road and gave you such a scare. But she wasn’t anywhere near you. You just overreacted.”

Another truth he couldn’t deny. Yet if the child had been closer, if he’d been distracted, if a car had come from the other direction… Too many ifs.

“You should have called her back,” he said flatly.

“She wouldn’t have heard me. She’s deaf.”


Rancher at Risk is available at your favorite booksellers, including Amazon and Barnes & Noble:

Barnes & Noble

Thanks to the Exquisite Quills for the chance to share!

Barbara White Daille said...

I should have added that the heroine's niece is four years old.

Erin OQuinn said...

From the second Gaslight Mystery, SPARRING WITH SHADOWS. Simon is fighting the shadows within himself ...
Simon's head tilted to the ceiling, a look of anguish on his face. “You called me omi-palone. You think I’m a sexual toy. A ready hole. A piece of flesh. All the things I saw tonight, that’s what I am to you or to any man.”

Michael felt a huge sense of loss threaten him. His throat began to close up, and he tried to clear it, to force air into his windpipe.

“What I called ye? I called ye me love.”

Crap. Simon was forcing his hand one more time, shaking loose the cards entrenched in his sleeve. He struggled to tell Simon something of what was cramped and curled in his gut.

“An’ what I think of ye? I think ye’re the best thing ever happened to a broken down Irishman. An omi-palone is not one to revile. That’s who I am. Proud to be a lover of men. Of a man. One man. God damn it, what d’ye want me to say, Simon?”

Michael, head bowed, saw the limp suspender lying on the bed, a shadow of Simon’s despair. Then his companion’s hand began to inch toward his own.

“I would rather you say nothing. I would rather you lie here with me. Only that and no more. Will you?”

Still in his rude trousers, Michael rolled to where Simon lay on his back. He pulled the naked shoulders into his own chest and let the man’s tangled hair spread there, a dark wound.
Blog devoted to the Gaslight Mysteries:

Susan Macatee said...

From Civil War time travel romance, Erin's Rebel.

"What was on them?" Doc's brow furrowed.

"Handwritten notes on troop movements – ours."

"What are you saying?"

"That someone in camp is or was spying for the Yankees."

"No." Doc shook his head. "You're not saying Erin—"

"I found the pages in the spot where she fell."

"Did you question her about it?"


"Why not?"

"She'd hit her head. Didn't remember anything," he replied in way of explanation.

"And afterward? Didn't you report this to anyone else?"

"Of course. I gave the pages to the colonel. But nothing was ever proved. I had no reason to suspect her of espionage."

Doc brushed a finger over his mustache. "She's never given me any indication that she may be a spy."

"If she's good at her job, I don't suppose she would."

"Just what do you plan to do?" Doc locked his gaze with Will.

Will shrugged. "I've been keeping an eye on her." In truth if he found out she was a spy, could he turn her in? She was the first woman since Anne who caused his pulse to race. He'd felt that way since the day he'd first laid eyes on her. But the time travel story had alerted his defenses. Could she have used that tale to cover the real truth?

Doc studied him a moment, then nodded, saying nothing more.

Will rose from the table and turned to leave.

"Take care, Will," Doc called after him.

Will inclined his head in acknowledgment, then walked away. Doc could most likely read his thoughts concerning Erin. But he had to guard his heart. The loss of Anne had wounded it almost beyond repair. He'd given Erin the brooch as well as his heart, body, and soul only to have everything ripped from him again.

Savanna Kougar said...


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.

Sheridan didn’t blame the women who wanted him, not just for his status or his wealth but for the primal and the aristocratic blend he was as a man, as a lover, the way he made a woman feel.

Pure sensual desire. Pure sensual need. Pure ferocious passion for him.

She waited, knowing that was his cougar-and-prey game with her. She waited, her gaze fondling the burnished waves of his dark mahogany hair, streaked with wild sunlight.

The rough grazing purr of his voice made her shiver inside. She met his gaze boldly. Never flee before a cougar. Always stand your ground, even if faced with the most gorgeous eyes she’d ever seen.

Pale emerald, so ice crystalline, his eyes were always startling, always stunning.

"Baron Vettura," she returned, her tone icy cordiality. Sheridan knew her eyes glowed hot.

She felt it. She shook back her hair. "It has been a while."


[Erotic Fantasy Romance, OtherWorld, Aristocratic Intrigue]




Savanna Kougar ~ Run On the Wild Side of Romance

Aaron Speca said...

From the short story "Heart of the Mermaid" by Aaron Speca and Patricia Laffoon, originally published as part of the "Evernight: Romance in a World of Darkness Vol. 2" anthology in 2012, but currently out of print ... but never fear the story has been incorporated into a future novel ...

Trish tumbled from her hiding place and lay sprawled at the feet of … ~Oh my~ … She looked up at a god. He was tall; really tall as he peered down at her and his skin was brushed with a golden hue. His uniform fit like it was a second skin. His speech was different … haunting, almost musical. A far cry from the gravelly voices and crude comments to which she was accustomed from the few humans she had met before. She had never had this reaction to a human male … ever.

She trembled and began babbling in the tongue of the Merfolk before she regained her senses and drew the dress up to attempt to cover her nakedness; swallowing hard. Then she said in a soft stuttering whisper, “Please … my l-lord … have mercy on a poor female. I need sanctuary.”

Surprisingly, he sheathed his sword and crouched down next to her. Then something tumbled out of his mouth that she did not expect. “Please don’t refer to me as ‘your lord’.” She shivered as he took off his shirt. Paralyzed, staring at the rippling muscles of this paragon of a male. She was both excited and frightened. ~Gods, what is he going to do to me?~ Then, he did the most amazing thing.

He gently placed his shirt over her shoulders and closed it around her.

She could barely comprehend what he was doing. He was so close to her now, when he pulled away she almost gasped.


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Erin OQuinn said...

Great, Aaron. I hope your mermaid swims again very soon!

Miriam Newman said...

Just in time for Valentine's Day, what happens when Cupid shoots his darts into a faerie meadow: “You, Fat Boy.”
Such an insulting tone from a faerie could only come from one with Vixen blood. Burlap took on the enemy.
“That’s Cupidon to you,” Cupid lisped in his irritating falsetto. “What do you want, Vix?”
“Yourself out of here. This is our meadow.”
“But my day is about to be observed. I have leave to pursue humans where I may.”
“Not from us.”
“This is a crucial time and those two seem to be in need.”
“Well, we’re sick of your bloody arrows and we want you out.”
“Take it up with my father,” Cupid yawned. “Right now I need a nap. That woman moves faster than fire from the sky.”
It was a none-too-subtle reminder that Zeus had fathered him and had dominion over the skies. Having been dislodged from one tree home by bolts from the heavens, the band had no wish to repeat the experience. Even Burlap was silent as Cupid took wing, fluttering in his usual lackadaisical manner into the fringe of woods. No doubt he would find the most comfortable roost well padded with moss or even a human tree house—he loved those—and pass the evening in comfort while the faeries picked his arrows out of their meadow.
“It was only the one.” Violet, ever the peacemaker, located Cupid’s projectile. “That’s not too bad.”
“Not yet,” Burlap groused. “But wait till all the young lovers start coming down here. They do, you know, every spring. Just like the salmon, spawning upstream. He’ll have his pick then.”
“But for now it’s too cold,” Blossom said authoritatively. “There won’t be much trouble yet.”
“Ye dinna call those two trouble?” Heather-Bloom snorted. “Rolling on the ground like hedgehogs in a fight?”
“Near as prickly,” Burlap agreed. “I give her the edge, though she’s smaller.”
“Weel, ye know what humans say,” Heather concurred. “Tisn’t the size of the dog in the fight, but the fight in the dog.”
“She’s got plenty,” Burlap said approvingly. She did admire moxie in whatever species.
“It’s none of our concern,” Blossom ruled, but she feared the band would ignore her. Living in forced proximity to humans for several seasons after they had been trapped in luggage and transported to a distant land, they had acquired a taste for gossip. Even now that they had been returned to their own fair Isle, the boundaries between human and Fae were growing ever more flimsy, in Blossom’s opinion. She feared for the future. This was but one more example. She sincerely hoped they had seen the last of the silver-haired man and his feisty mate.
. Buy it alone or bundled with Confessions of the Cleaning Lady at my author page:

E. Ayers said...

Hmm, is that break similar to when the clock is ticking - someone opens the basement door and you scream don't go down there!

E. Ayers said...

I just had to get this one and it has some great reviews.

Theda Hudson said...

From The Pearl Witch by Theda Hudson

A man, blonde, nicely tanned, hair perfectly cut, wearing an expensive pair of jeans, a button down shirt, and Italian loafers, approached them.
He looked at Carol, breathed in deeply, dismissed her, and turned to Shelley.
“My name’s Manning, what’s yours, Venus?”
Shelley laughed as she met Carol’s eyes. “I’m Shelley and this is Carol.”
“Can I buy you a drink?”
“No, thanks, we’ve ordered already.”
“May I join you?”
“We’re here together.”
He studied them carefully, deciding they weren’t a couple. “Ah.” he looked out over the crowd, and Carol noticed him signal someone. “Me, too.”
Another man wearing the same high quality clothes, with the same perfectly groomed look, joined them. Peas in a pod, Carol thought.
“Luis,” he said, introducing him to the women.
“Do you want to dance?” he asked Carol.
“Shelley, do you want to dance?”
“No, I’m okay. You go on.”
Shelley watched Luis lead Carol onto the dance floor.
“You should go with me,” Manning said.
“Where?” She knew where, but wanted to see how he'd handle it.
“Do you drink martinis?”
“Well, let's go, I'll teach you to drink martinis, have some dinner, and get to know each other.”
He just wants you for an easy lay.
Hey, you can catch a guy like this.
“But my friend…”
“Luis'll bring her along.”
Shelley didn't see her. She was a big girl and Luis was attractive.
Manning touched her hand and a spark seemed to jump from his hand to hers. Her belly quivered and she got a hint of that taste of superior sex.
She got back late, staggered in and found Carol passed out on the couch.
Carol woke up. “I was worried. Like Mr. Goodbar worried.”
“Oh, he had intentions. They were very bad. But, oh so delicious.

Scarlet Darkwood said...

From Mistress Of The House: Thelma is trying her first plan to woo her love, Harry:

He blinked a few moments and grinned. “Well . . . that felt . . .”
“Strange, yes?”

“I must say, that’s quite a way to eat, now.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Now it’s my turn.” Mimicking her former movements, he offered her a tasty tidbit.

“You’re right, this does taste good!” A tiny bit of food stuck to her upper lip, and before she could make a move to remove it, Harry quickly leaned forward and flicked his tongue lightly over her lips.

“You learn fast, darling!” She let out a giggle, and gave her lips a light rub with her finger.
He settled back down beside her, propped up on one elbow. After taking another sip of wine, he treated himself to another slice of bread and a vegetable from a new, colorful pile. After about an hour of eating, drinking, and talking, the two found themselves under a bright moon.

Harry stretched out and reclined back. Thelma, stretched out beside him, and began running her finger over his lips, finally taking the opportunity to kiss him. His lips felt so soft under hers, and his tongue wet and warm as it flirted with hers in a playful dance. She now traced around the outside of his ear, and stopped to run her tongue over his earlobe.

The wine had kicked in, full-force, making her bolder and less nervous. Her fingers now played over his chest, feeling the tips of his nipples under the shirt. Round and round her fingers moved, over one, then the other. He reached out and guided her face toward his so their lips met again. While they explored each other's mouth in another fiery round of play, her hand now flowed over his abdomen, and landed softly between his thighs.

E. Ayers said...


E. Ayers said...

This looks like an interesting read.

E. Ayers said...

Um, hot! LOL

E. Ayers said...

Oh, Susan, this looks like a super read.

Barbara White Daille said...

Thanks for the comment, E. Much appreciated!

E. Ayers said...

Another hot one! Love a man who oozes that sort of lithe power.

E. Ayers said...

Tenderness goes a long way coming from a male.

E. Ayers said...

This one looks like a fun read for Valentine's Day. Thanks for sharing, Miriam,

E. Ayers said...

I loved the last three sentences. Great excerpt.

E. Ayers said...

Oh yummy - the food. Yes, the food. Food, wine, moonlight... What's not to love?

Scarlet Darkwood said...

Fantastic, Erin! Beautiful prose as always!

Scarlet Darkwood said...

Very interesting set-up of the story. Looks like you're having success with it!