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Sunday, October 25, 2015

Sunday Peek!

The Sunday Peek is an opportunity to get a buzz going for your soon-to-be released or re-released novel.  

Post a tempting 300-word snippet from your most recent endeavor. Be sure to add your website/blog link, a release date if you have one, and one link to where your other books can be found. Example: Your Amazon Author's Page.
Share your participation with our
ready-to-go tweet or make your own!

See what's next on Exquisite Quills' Sunday Peek!  


Erin OQuinn said...

About halfway through a work in progress called RED, RED ROSE. Two unlikely men have formed a bond...
When he woke, Burns was still lying on Thomas, his mouth pressed into the nape of his neck and his sticky cock lying in the crack of his ass. He decided this was the way he’d like to soar into the great beyond, unless some providence rewarded him with a final giant erection. Then he could wear it and Thomas both into eternity.


The fuzzy syllable told him Thomas was half-asleep too, talking into the bed covers.

“Aye, lad?” His own mouth moved on the smooth, muscled skin above his lover’s shoulders.

“I could stay here forever.”

Burns smiled, and his prick stirred.

“Forever is a word I’ve been thinking about, Thomas.”

“Tell me.”

He rolled off and pressed the length of his body into the tall frame of his bed mate. The blue skies were clouded with sleep, dark as a storm, pulling him in.

“You, lad. And I. We belong together.”

Thomas moved his shapely lips in a lopsided smile. “A cop and a poet. How do you figure?”

“You teach me how to solve a crime. I teach you how to …” He sought the right words.

“Make it rhyme?”

He laughed. “How to see life as a metaphor. How to play it like a harp, how to make it sing.”

Thomas captured his lips between his teeth and bit until he tasted blood. “You are crazy.”

“All poets are fucking crazy, Thomas.”

The kiss was long, and deep, and more tender than any he’d ever experienced.
~Crazy. Aye. Crazy in love with you.~

He promised himself he’d tell Thomas, when the time was right. Soon, very soon.

He threw one leg over his bedmate’s hip and let his cock announce his very lewd intentions.
The first two novellas in the series are here:

Stephanie Queen said...

from USA Today Bestselling Author Stephanie Queen
upcoming release on Pre-Order special for $.99!
Beachcomber Santa
The beach shack was too still since Shana left. Three weeks ago.
Dane scoffed at himself since she had only moved a few blocks away. She might have left the island and him for good. But he was lucky more than smart. Lucky more than charming at this point. He had no idea why she hadn’t put her bags on a ferry and took off from Martha’s Vineyard to never look back.
A shudder rippled through him. He eyed his liquor cabinet—the freezer where he had a bottle of tequila stashed. The one she bought when he’d asked her to pick it up. A little over three weeks ago.
Instead of tequila, he stepped out his back door. He hesitated about whether to turn left to go out back toward the harbor and the cleansing sea air, or to turn right and head to the street towards Mrs. Jones’s place where Shana rented an efficiency for the off-season.
The ocean breeze came up from his left. It was cold. He had no jacket on. That made his mind up. Today his mind was weak, apparently. He turned away from his usual solace of the harbor and sea air and headed to Shana’s place dressed only in his t-shirt and jeans. He didn’t even care if she accused him of being macho.
Maybe that wasn’t entirely true. He bent his mind on coming up with a plausible excuse why he needed to see her. As he passed his neighbor’s yard decorated with lights and a life-sized plastic replica of Rudolph, he decided the upcoming holiday season was the perfect reason. Friends were entitled to stop in on friends at Christmas time, weren’t they?

Available for Pre-Order on AMAZON

Andrea Cooper said...

Modern Magic: A Quartet of Fractured Fairy Tales
This excerpt is from mine - Cinderella retelling called Fairy Trouble

As she raced over rooftops, Esmeralda bit her lip. She didn’t want Ryan to forget her. In fact, she wondered if she returned here tomorrow morning dressed in modern human clothes—and without her wings, of course—if he’d talk to her more.
What was she thinking? Sure, she envied humans’ families and food, but she’d never wanted to interact with them without purpose before. She was here to do a job and become a permanent fairy godmother, nothing else.
Soon enough, Cindy’s two-story brick house rose into view, and Esmeralda landed on the front lawn. If it could be called that. The patch of grass was brown and no larger than if she spread her arms out to either side. Just focus on the task. She had to prep Cindy for the ball with a change of hair, outfit, and transportation, despite her mean family, and have her meet the prince and live happily ever after. Easy.
From inside the house, female voices yelled, though she couldn’t understand what they were saying. Then the front door flew open and banged against the wall.
“I don’t care how rich he is, I’m not going to some stupid ball.” A blond with a ponytail stomped out of the house.
“Cindy, you come back here this instant!” an elderly woman yelled from inside.
“Send one of my stepsisters. I want to paint, not find a husband.”
Oh, fairy sprinkles. This was going to be harder than Esmeralda thought.

Andrea Cooper said...

Modern Magic
Andrea R. Cooper

Margo Bond Collins said...


Fairy, Texas

by Margo Bond Collins



“It’s a glamour,” Josh said. “It draws norms to us.”

I held myself completely still. “Like pheromones?”

“More like a moth to the flame,” he muttered. He leaned closer, so that we stood less than an inch apart. He bent down and touched his lips to mine.

My eyes fluttered closed and I leaned closer so that we were pressed against each other. His kiss was slow, like his smile, and seeped into me until I could feel myself glowing along with him.


Available on Amazon

Margo's Website

TamiSinclair said...

Excerpt from Forever Your Girl, an erotic vampire romance.
Dark straight hair was pulled back in a pony tail that landed well below his shoulders. He wore and totally owned the kind of black duster she adored on tall, lithe men. A black tee and jeans, biker boots and a thick, heavy concho belt was slung low on narrow hips, that of course drew her attention to the bulge in his crotch. More thick silver glinted at his neck and on several fingers. She had to admire the look of a man who wasn't afraid to make a fashion statement on a roof top in the middle of the night.
Then she looked up at his face. Unfathomable eyes, black as the night, he stared at her.
He stood and offered a hand down to her. The choice was hers, but he wanted her with everything he had in him and so did his cock. "Will you come with me, stay with me tonight?" Though he was in control, the breath in his throat paused, waiting for her answer.
Large eyes shone with need. "Yes. I will go with you." There was no hesitation in her voice, and for that he was relieved.
"You come of your own free will?"
"Yes." She grasped his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
They stood looking at each other for a moment before Vanessa closed her eyes. "Oh, God. I drank too much, I'm dizzy."
"Maybe you should wait a moment. There is no hurry.”
"I think you're right." Vanessa turned and the toe of her boot caught on the loose roofing. Before he could reach out to her, she caught herself. "I'm okay." One more step, then she tripped on the bottle of whiskey.
And fell off the roof.
Available on Amazon

Barbara White Daille said...

From: The Lawman's Christmas Proposal by Barbara White Daille, releasing in December.

The setup: When LAPD cop Mitch Weston returns home to recuperate from a shooting injury, he encounters even more trouble, thanks to his former boss, ranch owner Jed Garland.


Jed rested his forearms on the fence and linked his fingers together. “I’m sure you realize a man doesn’t reach success without some failure along the way.”

“Yeah,” he said harshly, “but my failure resulted in someone dying.”

“And in your line of work, you think that makes you stand out from the crowd?”

He shot a glance toward the other man. “You’ve been talking to my dad.”

“`̓Course I have.” Jed sighed. “I’m not saying what happened wasn’t a tragedy. I’m not saying it’s something you can ever shake off. But you’re too good a cop—too good a man—not to get past this.”

Looking away again, Mitch gripped the rail and squinted into the lowering sun. The bright light made his eyes water.

“Meanwhile,” Jed said, “it’s good you’ve come home.”

“Temporarily.” He hoped he sounded convincing. He lived and breathed law enforcement, had done ever since he was a kid watching his dad and grandpa pinning their badges to their uniforms. There was nothing else he wanted to do with his life. Nothing else he could do.

“You’ll have to hang around till Pete and Cole get in from the northern pastures. And Paz will have my hide if I don’t get you to stop in to see her. While you’re here, you can say hello to the girls.”

“The girls?” He gripped the rail even harder.

“Yeah. Tina started off handling the contractors for the upgrades to the Hitching Post, but Jane’s been helping out since she moved in a few months ago. And now we’ve got a wedding booked, Andi’s here to pitch in, too.”

Jed’s three granddaughters.

Tina had grown up on the ranch and become the bookkeeper for the hotel. Jane was a well-respected photojournalist, originally based in New York. And Andi…

Andi was the reason he’d left Cowboy Creek.


Thanks for reading!

Amazon Author Page: Amazon Author Page


And thank you, EQ.

Sheri Fredricks said...


bluemistlizzi said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
bluemistlizzi said...

'Sguir! Aleksandra, stop!' Aleksandra heard Scotty bark, and then continue in a low, steady voice. 'Wouldn't move, 'f I was you, Xavier. Her da's Cossack-trained and it 'pears she is too.' Scotty chuckled.
She felt Xavier ease his hold on her, but he didn't let go, despite the blade at his neck.
'Now a nighean,' Scotty admonished her, 'Xavier's a charaid, a friend. He's been watchin' over ye for the best part of the afternoon.'
She relaxed the death-grip on her shashka, removing its tip from Xavier's throat. Her gaze met his smooth cocoa eyes fringed by long, black lashes, crinkles of laughter showing at their corners. Aleksan-dra's bronze-skinned benefactor had the look of a dark Spanish lord.
'The vixen has teeth,' Xavier said with a grin.
Aleksandra gave him the ghost of a smile, then frowned at his hands still upon her. White scars crisscrossed his right one, and his knuckles. He let go of her and stepped back from her side.
'Well Aleks, feelin' better after yer little rest?' Scotty approached cautiously, removing the sword from her shaky grip. 'How 'bout a drink of water?' He reached for the filled mug. 'Ye ready to talk yet?'
She nodded slowly, eyes on Xavier.
'Where's yer da, Aleks?' Scotty's brow wrinkled, his voice tender.
Aleksandra's heart sank as she struggled to sit up. Reaching for the proffered cup, she drank slowly. The liquid's coolness soothed her cracked lips and parched throat. Handing the vessel back, she wrapped her arms about herself tightly, chin to chest. When she swayed again, she dimly noticed Xavier moving closer, and was surprised to recog-nize that she didn't mind his all-too-familiar closeness.
'Papa is at rest,' she said haltingly, so softly they had to move in close, 'with Mama and my brothers.'

Thanks for Reading!

Amazon Author Page :
Website :

See your purchasing options at
Thank you, Exquisite Quills!

Lizzi Tremayne

Hywela Lyn said...

This is an excerpt from the third in the 'Destiny Trilogy', the first of which was 'Starquest'. Each book is a complete novel in its own right, with no 'cliff hanger ending'. Beloved Enemy is due to be released by The Wild Rose Press early in 2016

She scrambled to her knees, still slightly winded, and fired at the hideous thing. The foliage around it flared briefly with an eerie green flame, and the tentacle shrivelled into a slimy black mass, emitting a pungent odour and causing her to gag.

“It seems I was mistaken about the creature being dead.” Kerry prodded the smouldering mass with his boot and looked across over the water. “It is now.” He leaned down and grasped her wrist to haul her to her feet.

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Her shoulder was sore and probably bruised but she’d live. She tried to control her shivering. The incident affected her more than she wanted to admit. Kerry’s proximity—naked to the waist, his lithe body shining from the water droplets that still clung to his skin, and his legs swathed in tight black leather—did nothing to help. The last thing she wanted was for him to realize how scared she’d been when she thought a snake
attacked her.

“Thanks. That was close. It would have been a bit ironic if I’d been killed by the same creature I saved you from.”

She realized he still grasped her wrist. She tried to move away, but he pulled her back, obliging her to turn to him.
“You’re trembling.”

“I’m fine.”

“No,” he said. “You’re not.” He pulled her closer and his eyes softened, his gaze holding her mesmerized. She opened her mouth to try to speak, but in the same instant, he put his hand under her chin and his lips closed over hers.

Thanks E Q!


Hywela Lyn

Jude Knight said...

This is from the short story that is ballooning on me as we speak. If I can whip it into submission, it will be in my Christmas release, Hand-Turned Tales, with three other short stories.

The Prisoners of Wyvern Castle is a gothic, and may yet become a novella.

The duke had his head turned, clearly listening, and when the footsteps of Morris and Polly faded around the corner of the steps leading to the bedchamber, he smiled at Madeline again.

"You do not mind, I hope? I thought we should talk without my sister's spies lurking." He shrugged, an oddly elegant movement. "You could be one, of course. Are you? And would you mind preparing something for me to eat while you answer that? Some meat on a slice of bread would be easy. Something I can hold in my hands without giving you an utter disgust of me. I am not tidy with a knife and fork."

The duke's preference had been considered, with slices of bread and slices of meat both available. "I do not mind," Madeline said, and busied her hands while she thought about how to answer the duke's question. Bluntly was best. "I am not your sister's spy, or my brother's. But I imagine that is what a spy would say. Here, your grace. Lamb between two slices of bread, and I have spread a preserve on the bread."

"Thank you. You can call me Rupert if you like. I do not think you are a spy. I do not think the Ice Dragon---my sister, I mean---cares that much what I do, except I do not try to escape or to kill myself. And the servants can prevent that. But why would you marry me if you are not her creature? Can you tell me that?"

"The world has no shortage of women who want to marry a duke," Madeline retorted. She was not one of them, though. She could imagine nothing worse than living the kind of life that duchesses followed, as far as she could tell from the pages of La Belle Assemble and the London Gazette. The London she yearned after---the museums, libraries, and book stores---was a far cry from the London such rare birds inhabited.

I haven't put Hand-Turned Tales on my website yet, but I will soon.