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Sunday, August 10, 2014

NEW! The Sunday Preview

Post a juicy 300-word snippet from a work in progress!

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

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Discover great reads on Exquisite Quills' Sunday Preview!    


Rose Anderson said...

The Changeling ~by Rose Anderson
Here one babe is exchanged for another.
She uncovered the bundle in her arms. Looking down, she smiled. “He’s a handsome laddie, don’t ye think. I’m no expert, mind, but Agnes and I both suspect the babe is of mixed race. His little ears…”
Moving to her side, Osgood broke into a smile of his own. The little bundled boy was sleeping. He ran a gentle fingertip over the small, slightly pointed, ear. “Yes, he very well could be. And yes, he’s a handsome little man – dark like Master Evan was. May his soul in heaven forgive us.”
The lady’s maid put a reassuring hand on the head butler’s arm. “He wouldn’t want her ladyship’s heart broken more than it already is. You know how he loved her.”
“I do. As I see it Fanny, the baker’s child is no more – taken away to some Faery hill no doubt, never to be seen again, if the old stories are true. This little boy did not belong with the Benton family anyway. He’s black-haired, for one. He’d grow being different, maybe disliked or mistrusted, even despised by his father as another man’s bastard. You know how people are when they feel something isn’t quite right. The child would suffer for a situation completely out of his control. It harms no one that he be raised a Pendry.”
She nodded. “Yes, you’re right Mr. Osgood. If nothing else, this is the better life of the two.”
“It most certainly is. Master Evan is gone and Master John has been missing for a fortnight. Solicitors across London have been inquiring high and low for his whereabouts but it isn’t looking good Fanny. Should anything have happened to Master John, there is no other heir living. This little man may very well become the 10th Earl of Pendry.” To the babe, Osgood whispered, “And the family name will continue because of you. Shall we meet your mummy little sir?”
Find my romance wherever books are sold. Sample here:

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Sam Cheever said...

Thanks for the opportunity to share! This is from my WIP, An Apocalyptic Need, which is part of my Apocalyptic series:

She stood before the closed door, her legs spread wide and her arms held slightly away from her body, as if ready to do battle. The ugly braid was gone and in its place was a soft, wavy cloud of hair that curled around her face and flowed like silk over her shoulders, curling lovingly upon her full breasts.

The few, strategically placed lights in the room seemed to caress her form, turning the gauzy gown she wore to a gossamer film that highlighted rather than hid her softly rounded hips, long shapely legs and the darker tangle of curls between her thighs.

The sleeveless gown draped from her shoulders and hung low, showing a wide swath of pale, plump breast and much of her flat stomach in the U-shaped drape. Unfortunately for him, the folds of fabric hid her nipples, giving him only a tantalizing glimpse of plump roundness beneath.

She stared at him with something unreadable sparking in her gaze, her full lips twisting slightly as if she were chewing the inside.

She looked impossibly sexy…and irrefutably unhappy.

Grimm swallowed past the impossible dryness in his throat and forced words through his lips. “So this is the way it’s going to be? You’re going to keep me locked in this room and use me as a sex toy?”

Her lips tightened briefly and then turned up at the corners. When she smiled the lines furrowing her porcelain brow smoothed away. “Would that be so horrible, Sorceri?”

Grimm’s gut tightened under a wave of sheer lust. His mind and body were at definite odds over the prospect. While his body heated and hardened with happy anticipation, his brain told him nothing good could come from her plan for him.

Book 2, Tall, Dark & Apocalyptic, available now!

Mellie said...

Jareth, First Lord
A messenger in the charcoal gray and burgundy livery of Clan Belfort stood stiffly at ease in front of the desk. Obviously, her father was still not satisfied.
“Viviane, I hate to put you through this yet again. Please make yourself comfortable. Would you like some tea?” Jareth began.
Reclining regally in a comfortable overstuffed chair, she said, “Yes, some tea would be nice. Thank you Jareth.”
Turning to the messenger she demanded, “What does Father want this time? I am perfectly fine, in good health, and getting settled in. First Lord Jareth has kindly opened his home to me and given me the liberty to travel freely around the estate and clan. I dine with him most evenings and he has generously provided everything I need. Is there anything else?”
While the messenger stood uncomfortably between the two of them, she sipped the aromatic tea. When it pleased her, she could be as haughty as anyone else in the family. A twinkle suddenly appeared in Jareth’s eyes as he took in the scene, though his face remained stern.
“Milady Viviane,” the messenger began, “Lord Carl believes you were instructed in what to write and does not accept the contents of your letter. Nor does First Lord Herrick. I have been ordered to talk with you and assess the situation. Your father requires you to come home and has offered Lord Jareth any other woman of the clan, if he will deliver you to Clan Belfort forthwith.”
Viviane fought to keep her temper in check, since it wasn’t the messenger’s fault Carl was an ass. The days when you could slay the messenger over bad news were long gone and it hadn’t been terribly beneficial anyway. It just left you short of messengers.

Coming soon from FreedomInk Publishing.

Donna Cummings said...

LORD WASTREL by Donna Cummings

London, 1811

It wasn’t the night of hard drinking Hugh Longford, Lord Weyson, regretted in that particular moment. Nor was it the fact that the sun blistering his eyes meant night had slipped away without his knowledge, once again.

The cause of his agony, and the source of his sudden wish that he had lived his past few years differently, was standing in front of him, calling him "Papa".

Hugh blinked, and then rubbed his red-rimmed eyes, but there was no mistaking the little creature gazing up at him. Not with fear, he noticed. Her expression was more of fascination than anything else. The poor mite was probably wondering what kind of father she had—

His misgivings were not about the child being his. No, his concern was that while he was well versed in siring a child, he hadn't the slightest notion of how to actually parent one.

Hugh dropped his head in his hands. What on earth was he to do?

He felt a light touch on his head, more tender than a wretch such as he deserved. It filled him with a strange sense of peace, one he did not want to lose anytime soon. Yet he was terrified at being the utter failure his own parents had been.

"I cannot have a child in my life right now," he blurted, with more ferocity than he had intended.

The little girl stepped back. Her bottom lip quivered, and for the first time she lost her composure. Hugh could feel a wrench in his heart, and even though he struggled against the odd emotion, he was powerless when tears started pouring from those innocent blue eyes.

His daughter. And he had been the one to finally make her cry.

The lump in his throat nearly choked him.

Available soon! Find out more about me and my humorously-ever-romances at

Nancy Morse said...

Thank you for the opportunity to share an excerpt from WINTER WIND, part of Love Historicals boxed set due for release in October.

Katie could scarcely breathe. She was seized by a wild yearning to touch him, to run her hands over the familiar flesh and twine her fingers in his long, dark hair, but all she could do was stand there and breathe in the essence of him from across the fire. She dared not move, for if this was a dream, she never wanted to awaken.

At last the figure she ached for moved. He took a step toward her. There was a half-smile on his handsome face.

And then, a movement from a corner of the lodge caught her attention. A young woman was sitting in the corner with Black Moon’s shirt in her lap. She came to stand beside him, placing a possessive hand on his arm.

The blood drained from Katie’s face as sudden comprehension split her brain. Black Moon was living with another woman.

Anguish ripped through her, and the joy that flooded her being upon seeing him vanished like smoke from a dying fire.

He came forward, standing so close she could see the tiny lines etched around the corners of his eyes. Reaching out, he caught her hand in his.


The sound of her name forced a tortured groan from her. Tearing her hand away, she took a step backwards. Shaking with sorrow, fury, grief and betrayal all at once, there was nothing to do but leave as quickly as she could. Stumbling to the entrance, she jerked the flap aside and ran out.

His voice carried out into the frozen air behind her. “Katie! Do not run away from me!”

She ran to her pony and jumped astride its back. With a savage kick, she took off at a gallop, not knowing where she was running to, only what she was running from.

Elaine Hopper said...

Here's a snippet from "Gaycation", Ashley Ladd's wip.

“I’m not sure you’re safe yet. He looks rather dangerous. Should I call hotel security or should I just carry him away?” Paolo regarded Reid as if he was a threat and took a menacing step forward.

Wondering what in the hell was wrong with her boss, she shook her head. Although he was acting out of character, she was sure he was harmless. “Don’t do either. I’m sure he just wants to talk to me, don’t you Reid?”

“You’re damned right I want to talk to you!” His voice rose an octave and was mixed with a growl.

Paolo moved between them and stood sentinel. He puffed out his impressive chest and his nostrils flared as he glared at the other man. “Go on in your room and lock it, Molly. I’ll make sure he doesn’t follow. If you want to talk to him, he can talk to you in the morning after he’s had a chance to calm down.”

“I’m not leaving until I talk to you, Molly. Are you going to let your boy toy talk for you now?”

Molly sighed and looked at the two men who were scowling at one another. Never in a million years would she have imagined this scenario, where Reid appeared to be worried or jealous over her.

Jealous? Could he be?

What about his boyfriend?

“Seriously, we’ll be all right. Thank you, Paolo.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed her friend’s smooth cheek, feeling waves of disapproval emanating from her boss.

Glowering at Reid, Paolo said, “If anything happens to her, I’ll come gunning for you. Goodnight, Molly. Sweet dreams.” He kissed her cheek.

Digging around in her pocket after Paolo released her, Molly looked for her room key. It wasn’t in the pocket with her phone so she had to take out her bra from the other pocket to get to the key.

A strangled noise rose from Reid’s throat as her bra dangled from her fingers.

Jana Richards said...

Thank you for the opportunity to introduce ONE MORE SECOND CHANCE. OMSC is part of the Lobster Cove series which has just been launched by The Wild Rose Press. No release date yet, but you can check out some of the other books in the series at The Wild Rose Press. In this excerpt, Julia takes her injured daughter to the emergency room:

“What did the x-ray find?” she asked.

“A spiral fracture of the right arm.” He paused for a moment and took a deep breath as if trying to control his emotions. “I’ve seen this kind of injury before. A fracture like this can be the result of a fall, but it can also be an indication of child abuse. An arm as small as Ava’s will break like a twig if it’s twisted hard enough. I’m obligated to contact the authorities if I suspect abuse.”

Julia stared at him in mute shock, her brain struggling to process his words, as if trying to translate some unintelligible language. The words child abuse rang in her ears. Finally she found her voice.

“You think someone deliberately hurt her?”

“Her injuries are consistent with abuse.”

“I don’t give a damn what they’re consistent with. Ava has not been mistreated. My mother said she fell down the stairs, and if that’s what she said, then that’s what happened.”

“I believe there’s more to the story than a simple fall.”

“If it comes down to believing you or my mother, I’m going with my mother.”

“Perhaps you don’t know her as well as you think you do.”

Julia sucked in a breath and stared into Dr. McKenzie’s dark, accusing eyes. The idea that her mother would hurt Ava was ridiculous. She adored Ava, would do anything for her…

She blinked and looked away, remembering an incident the other day. She’d heard her yelling at Ava about the milk she’d spilled on the kitchen floor, making such a huge deal of it that Ava had cried. It had struck her as strange since she couldn’t remember her mother yelling at anyone, ever. She wasn’t as patient as she used to be. And how did she explain her strange phone call telling her Ava had been hurt? Of course she’d been upset, but her mother had been nearly incoherent with distress. Was something going on she wasn’t aware of? She was seventy-one now. Maybe looking after a rambunctious five year old was too much for her.

No. She shook her head to reject the disloyal thought. Dr. Campbell was the one who was wrong.

“I know my mother. She didn’t do this. It was an accident.”

“We’ll soon find out. Sharon is questioning Ava now.”

Julia stared at the door. “She’ll be scared all by herself.”

“Sharon’s very good at what she does. She has a way of making kids feel comfortable.”

Julia turned on him, the anger and despair she’d been holding inside spilling out. “And you? Do you enjoy upsetting five year olds and turning families’ lives upside down? Does it make you feel powerful to sic the authorities on us?”

“Trust me, I don’t take any pleasure in upsetting either one of you. But I’ve seen child abuse, up close and personal and I can tell you it’s damn ugly. The things adults are capable of doing to defenseless children—“

He stopped abruptly, his lips clamping shut in a thin, angry line. Averting his gaze, he took a deep breath. When he turned back to her, his steely control was back in place. “So yeah, if I have even the smallest suspicion that a child has been abused, I’m going to ask questions. And I’m not going to apologize for it.”

Thank you!
Jana Richards

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