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Tuesday, September 1, 2015

Tickle Us Tuesday!

In comments, and in 300 words or less, give us a snippet from your novel that will bring a smile, incite a giggle, or
make us laugh out loud. Don't forget the buy link and your website/blog link. Have fun! 

Share your participation with a ready-to-go tweet or make your own.

See my snippet on Exquisite Quills' Tickle Us Tuesday!   


E. Ayers said...

E. Ayers

The dining room looked like the rest of the hotel, overly ornate. And the food was delicious. It reminded her of the places she read about while visiting the homes where women received magazines on fashion and such. At her home, she and her father ate simple foods and their dining room was plain. She tried to memorize everything that she saw and decipher the spices and herbs used in the food.

“There is a land office down the street. I will check it tomorrow.”
Tiago sat back and stirred his coffee. “Maybe you should see to any books that Alma might need.”

“Yes. She also needs writing supplies, but until she is settled someplace and can have a desk…”

“More books?” Alma asked.

“Yes, darling. You need more than your reader. Maybe you can help me pick them out.”

Another young girl came into the dining room, holding a doll in her arms as she walked to a table with her parents.

“I want one of those!” Alma said, pointing to the other girl.

Tiago laughed. “You want a sister? I shall have to marry first.”

The child looked confused as she answered, “Yes, I want a…”

Ingrid raised her eyebrows. “You mean a doll like the one that she carries? And it’s not polite to point.”

Alma looked at her father and then at Ingrid. “A doll.”

Ingrid couldn’t stop the bubbling inside of her that became a giggle, but she tried to keep the sound as soft as possible. “A doll is much easier to obtain than a sister.”

Tiago grinned at Ingrid. “Sisters aren’t difficult to obtain when everyone is willing.”

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Nancy said...

Prince Charming Wore Spurs
Nan O'Berry

He'd need to change for dinner. Mrs. Saunders wouldn't allow him to show up at the table covered with cow dung and dust. Pulling at the fabric of his shirt, he heard the pop of snaps as they gave way and he slipped the shirt from his body, dropping it in the heap of laundry beside the washer. A flash of color caught his eye. Brow wrinkled, he leaned over and pulled the lime green string bikini top from beneath the towel where it played peek-a-boo with him. The blare of the radio filled the air, punctuated by women's laughter. His curiosity heightened and drew him to the glass in the door. He peeked in.
That knot in his gut grew tighter. Standing in the middle of the kitchen, holding on to a plastic spoon as if it were a microphone, Trudy Carson was doing an imitation of a country music singer. His mouth went dry watching as her hips gyrated to the beat, egged on by the hoots and laughter of his daughter and the housekeeper.
There was a lot to enjoy from his angle. Trudy's obvious well-sculpted body was a delight in a sleeveless shirt tied at the waist with a pair of hip hugging, tight blue jean shorts. Her legs seemed endless. His eyes followed their curve below the hem to a pair of pink toes in flip-flops, one with a ring around it.
A grin crossed his face as Gillian tried to imitate Trudy’s motions while singing about living in a big ole city. Shaking their bottoms, they jumped and turned, then finished the song with Trudy holding her spoon down so Gillian could sing into it. Gillian! He stepped back and glanced down at the scrap of material he held between his thumb and forefinger. It hit him like a ton of bricks. Lord, no. It didn't belong to his daughter. His head snapped back to look at the woman leaning on the counter. This was Trudy's!

In ebook and print on Amazon and other fine retailers.

Sophia Ryan said...

Healing touches, hot kisses, and fiery sex has two college coeds rethinking their vows to avoid love. But the love-shy American is keeping secrets her Irish hunk might not be able to forgive.

In this scene, Kristin and Sean are on their second mini date at a coffee house on campus.

“Can I see it?” she asked.

“If you show me yours,” he said.

They each took out their wallets and pulled out the licenses.

He handed his over and her eyes zeroed in on the picture. There was a touch of a smile on his luscious mouth as if he were amused by something. The eyes looked as if they were a blink away from laughter. “No one takes a good license photo, Sean, but somehow you managed it. I think I hate you.”

He laughed. “Okay. Hand over yours.”

She kept hers against her chest. “I was getting a cold when this was taken, and I didn’t want to go back for a retake. Promise me you won’t laugh.”

“I promise.”

“Promise what?”

“Promise I won’t laugh.”

“Okay.” She handed it over, cringing.

A smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. His eyes rose from the picture to her face then back to the photo, then back to her face again. “Were you smoking something?” His smile was full-blown on his face.

“You promised!” she said with a laugh and playfully hit the arm holding the license.

“I promised not to laugh. I didn’t promise not to smile.” His eyes dropped back to her license. “Your middle name starts with H. What is it?”

“It’s a secret I’ll take to my grave, that’s what it is.” She reached out for her license, but he pulled it back with a grin.

“How bad can it be?”

“Really bad.” She reached again, and again he pulled it away.

“Now I have to know,” he said.

She took a sip of her latte and shook her head. “No way.”

“If I guess it, will you tell me if I’m right?” He handed over her license and she put it away.

“You’ll never guess it.”






“Hortense?” She chuckled. “Just for that, you lose your guessing privileges, and I get to ask you five questions about the things in your wallet.” She plopped her hand on his wallet and with a grin slid it across the table to her.

“She Likes It Irish has everything from quirky banter, sexy flirtation, sweet romance, devastating betrayal and heartache, and erotic, pulse pounding sex. I loved this book and did I mention yet, it is so hot?!?!” ~Sky Turner, Amazon

Other Sophia Ryan Books

Margaret Fieland said...

This excerpt is from "Rob's Rebellion, available soon from MuseItUp Publishing:

Rob turned to Reuben, who smiled encouragement.
"I love Reuben, and he loves me." Rob turned to Laura. "Why did you pick Reuben? Was he a convenience or are there some real feelings between you?"

Laura's mouth gaped. "You want me to tell you?"

"Never mind." Rob turned to Carol. "Adam, is he important to you? Other than as a provider of a spinet?"

"There's no tie between us." Carol used the Aleyni word.

"Then why not pick Reuben?" Rob asked. "What was wrong with him?"

"What was wrong with Reuben? You've been in love with Reuben for years, since before you met me, and you ask me why I wouldn't go to bed with him?" Carol was shouting. "You're completely crazy."

Four heads peeked over the balcony running around three sides of the hall.

"Are you mad at each other?" Alex asked.

"Pretty mad," Reuben said.

"How much longer are you going to yell at each other?" Marianne asked.

"Can we go across the street to play with Kyrosh?" Melissa asked. "Beram and his sister will be there, too."

Check out my website:

and my author page on MuseItUp Publishing:
"We promise not to come back until you're done being cross. You can message us," Andy said.

Nobody said anything, which the kids took for a yes, evidently, as they trooped down the stairs and left. The front door crashed shut behind them.

"What do we do now?" Laura asked.

Reuben pushed away from the wall, and Rob moved over and wrapped his arms around him. He placed one hand behind Reuben's head, drawing him close.

"Never been with a man?" Carol taunted.

"No," Rob said. "I never wanted any man but Reuben. I don't know what to do."

"Don't worry, Robert," Reuben said. "I do."

"What are we supposed to do while you fulfill your fantasies with Reuben?" Bitterness colored Carol's voice.

Rob turned around. "Find out if the bed is big enough for four."

Kathy L Wheeler said...

The Price of Scorn - book iv: Cinderella's Evil Stepmother
“SO, WE’RE TO HAVE a new papa?” Pricilla stood on her tiptoes, surveying the array of items laid on out Hilda’s vanity. To a curious child it must resemble a market full of sweet meats for the taking.

Her glance moved from a sleeping Esmeralda on a pallet before the hearth to Pricilla. Hilda took a small jeweled box from Pricilla’s hands and set it back on the vanity out of reach.

“Where did on earth did you hear such a thing, ma chère?”

“From Cousin Dirk.” Her tiny fingers clasped a necklace laced with emeralds.

Hilda frowned at Pricilla’s reflection in the mirror. “What exactly did Cousin Dirk say?”

Her nose wrinkled as she studied the clasp. “That if you married him, he would be more a papa than Gustaf ever had been.” She gave up on the necklace, dropping it back on the vanity before latching onto the matching bracelet and slipping it onto her wrist.

“That’s certainly true enough,” Hilda muttered under her breath. Gustaf had been a menace. But instincts warned Dirk would be just as awful, in perhaps a different way. “But as things stand, I plan on marrying no one.”

Pricilla paused and turned large, worried blues eyes on her. “But where shall we live?”

“Here, of course,” Hilda told her. She lifted Pricilla’s wrist and surveyed the gap that would fit an additional wrist or two. “Very nice.”

“But I heard him say if you didn’t marry him, we should have to leave.” Tears shimmered into luminescent pools. “That we should have to live in the woods—in the dark.” Her tears spilled over. “I don’t wish to live in the woods, Maman. I-I don’t like the dark. Maman, you must marry him. S’il vous plaît, you must.”

Each panic-trilled word rose in hysteria, until Pricilla threw her arms about Hilda’s neck, sobs racking her small form.

Hilda squeezed her tightly, furious at Dirk’s nerve in saying such things to a child. Her child.

Jan Hudson said...

ONE TOUGH TEXAN by Jan Hudson (On Amazon: ) opens with the following:

The last thing Need Chisholm expected to see when he looked up from his beer was a naked lady. But there she stood in the doorway of the Ace in the Hole Saloon, backlit by the afternoon sun, a glowing nimbus outlining her considerable curves and long mane of tawny hair.

He wasn't drunk enough yet to be seeing things, so he thumbed back his hat and squinted through his good eye. She was still there, looking as jumpy as a fox cornered in a henhouse as she scanned the room.

Need would have stood and tipped his hat like the proper gentleman his mama raised, but he figured that at the first sudden move, she'd cut and run.

"Nobody here but me," he said. "Place is closed on Wednesdays, but come on in."

Still skittish as a saddle-shy filly, she clomped a few steps closer. That's when he noticed that she wasn't quite naked. She wore a skimpy little string of what he supposed was the bottom of a beige bathing suit, a very small towel clutched over her breasts, and golf shoes that were at least five sizes too big.

"I-I need some help," she said.

"Why? Lose your putter?"

She obviously didn't see the humor in his question. The look she shot him could have welded his zipper shut.


Iris Blobel said...


“I’d rather have a hot chocolate. I’m sure the chance of getting an orgasm from simply inhaling it is higher than spending a few minutes with you,” she said as she stomped down the hall and towards the kitchen.
Following her, he said, “Sweetcakes, don’t be like that.”
She shuddered. “Don’t call me that. That’s Oliver’s jargon when he hits on a girl.”
“You had your chance.”
With a chuckle, he placed an arm around her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Trust me, it’s better this way.”
Leaning her head against his hard chest, she thought about it for a moment before she said, “I know. But why the hell am I so damn attracted to you today?”
He lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “’Cause I’m a very attractive man.”


Jude Knight said...

A Baron for Becky

She had no idea how she felt. Elated, undoubtedly. She had never imagined such a contract. Shamed, embarrassed... Aldridge’s mother clearly thought... And she was right. And she was a duchess! If she had arrived two minutes later... no, Aldridge was going to lock the door.

Rose giggled nervously at the thought of the Duchess of Haverford knocking on the door, demanding her son’s attention while he attempted to put himself back into his pants. Not that the actual scene was much better. A bucket of cold water could have separated them no more quickly.