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Sunday, December 6, 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...

A fairly clean peek into my latest work, a longish short story titled A KILTED CHRISTMAS. A hard-nosed cop falls for a roguish and mysterious Scottish scholar.
Thomas nested deeper into his lover’s chest and began to stroke the long planes of his back muscles, wishing he’d taken off the man’s bloody goddamn shirt. Without being obvious, he let the caresses linger longer and longer on the curves of his tight little ass. Against his groin, he felt the cudgel of Burns’ response.

“Och, lad.”

It was a murmur into the hollow of his throat.

“I’m listening.”

“If all of you is listening, Thomas Fitzgerald … roll over and let me talk to your glorious buttocks.”

A bristly mouth moving against his neck, a caress of sexy words … Thomas hardened like an obedient sub.

“I thought you wanted to take my measure.”

“Later, lad. We have … forty-four hours and ten minutes. Plenty of time.”

“Then I need to strip off your sodding clothes.”

He started by unknotting the necktie, while Burns lay on his back, his midnight-clouded eyes watching every move.

“This tie is a useful prop, Burns. But the rest? Let me free up this lube from your trousers pocket and throw the rest away.”

His lover lay with his legs splayed and a half-smile playing on his mouth while Thomas first removed his vest. He withdrew the rose and placed it carefully on the bedside table. Next he began to free the long row of mother-of-pearl buttons on the raw silk trousers.

The taunting words arose not from his throat but from his impatient cock. “Buttons, Burns? Bloody hell, you are a prick tease.”

The four novella series is here:
#gay #romance #mystery, in this order:
A KILTED CHRISTMAS (52-page story)

Amazon USA
Amazon UK

Livia Quinn said...

From Merry Christmas, Baby - Under-Cover Knights book 3 by Livia Quinn available 12/7/2015 Beau had been avoiding homecomings and the reason was unavoidable this time. Madison Hart, who had loved Beau most of her life.

Maddie. No one called her that but him, and mostly during their lovemaking. He seemed… vulnerable somehow, his expression open. She eased down onto the bed next to him. Her hand disobeyed and she reached out to stroke his hair back from his eyes. She wanted to look at them, at him. God, she was so hungry for him, it was a wonder her stomach didn’t growl. And yet, she steeled herself for his rejection.

His head angled and he pressed his cheek into her palm. His eyes closed. He was hot. Vic had said he’d picked up a bug. She knew he would not take kindly to coddling so she didn’t mention it. Those eyes so like the color of gems sparkled, lowered to her mouth. She licked her lips. When he didn’t move and didn’t quit staring, she leaned forward.

She couldn’t not.

Her eyes met his as their lips touched and he groaned from somewhere deep in his chest. He took the kiss deeper immediately, angling his head and scooting closer to put his weight on one arm and place his other behind her to pull her into him.

His chest pressed tight against hers, his tongue pushed into her mouth, commanding she open and give as much as she received. Always. He never did anything halfway and demanded the same. She gave herself up to the feel of him; he was so close, and it had been so long.

His hand left her neck and she almost cried out, No, but then it was slipping up under her sweater, beneath her bra to take her breast in his palm. She kissed him harder, sucked his tongue into her mouth, needing to be closer. His hand stilled suddenly and her mind cried out, No, don’t stop!

Hard Days Knight, book 1 Her First Knight, book 2
#romance #military #suspense #holiday
Find them all here

Jana Richards said...

Here's short snippet from CHILL OUT, which releases January 4, 2016:

She took a step backward into her room, holding the door between them. “I should get some sleep.”


She hesitated, as if waiting for him to speak. For a moment he thought she was going to invite him into her room. But then she swallowed and lowered her gaze.

“Goodnight, Noah. Sleep well.”


She quietly closed the door. Noah’s heart beat frantically as he stood outside. He wanted her in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time, a deep primal urge, an overwhelming desire. Should he knock, ask to come in, ask to spend the night with her? Should he throw caution to the wind and let her know how he felt?

He raised his hand, ready to knock. What if he’d misread the way she’d responded to his kiss? Were his feelings for her simply a product of their isolation together? If she made love with him tonight, would she later regret it?

Fear slapped him in the gut. He couldn’t face another rejection. He let his hand drop to his side and walked to his room.

Jana Richards
Amazon Author Page

Helen Henderson said...

A look into my latest release, Hatchling's Curse - Mating flights do not always include the woman you want.

After one final check, Branin drew Mt’wan Comraich from its scabbard. Despite its weight, the great sword felt light in Branin’s hand. Anger and fear complemented the weapon’s magic. As the one man in a generation able to access the protector of Mt’wan’s magic, Branin could wield the heavy blade for hours.

<Forward,> he broadcast. <Attack.> Then he repeated the commands in a voice pitched to be heard over the sound of battle. Claxons ripped through the quiet of the dawning. Heartbeats later, men's screams mingled with the brassy horns. Still Branin kept Marsainn to the edge of the milling mass. Among the mass of men, Branin searched the meadows for one in particular—Broch. All too soon it became apparent that his quary was not there. Although he had never seen them in person, just in Anastasia’s sketches, two heads stood out.

The berserker rage of his ancestors washed over Branin and he leaped from the saddle. Hafgan and Lludd, those who had chained her to drown, would leave the field in chains—or dead. With the ancient cry of his clan on his lips, Branin fought toward Hafgan. He felt more than sensed Liam a half step to the right, and Marsainn on the left. With those two protectors, Branin knew he was safe. No knife would be thrust in his back. Hafgan is mine. Anastasia will be safe.

A dozen men, led by a willowy raider, blocked Branin’s way. By the time he ended the threat, Hafgan had disappeared.

<We will find him,> Llewlyn growled.

The battle ebbed back and forth across the field. Branin led his troops until most of Broch’s men were dead or disarmed. Blocking out the thunder of battle around him, Branin scanned the area. Few fought a losing battle against the larger force from Derilton, but his target was not among them. Without warning, Hafgan burst from a cluster of raiders, his sword held high above his head.

Amazon Author Page
Hatchlings Curse excerpt page