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Thursday, August 11, 2016

Throwback Thursday! #IndieThursday

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, share a tempting snippet from your older works, 300 words or less. Don't forget your buy link and website/blog link. Have fun!

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Jacqueline Seewald said...

DARK MOON RISING was appropriately published last August since it's a sizzling hot romance. Here is a brief excerpt:

“Life and death are just different sides of the same coin.” He pressed her fingertips against his lips.
“I think you’re paying lip service to a viewpoint you feel requires your loyalty.” Her voice sounded unsteady.
His fingertips lifted her chin and gently turned her face toward his. “I think maybe you’re right. You’re very perceptive about people, aren’t you? It’s okay. You don’t have to be shy with me.”
She felt her cheeks flame. “Tell me about yourself,” she said quickly.
His piercing midnight-blue eyes met hers squarely. “You really don’t want to know.”
She sensed his inner conflict and turmoil. “Yes, I would really like to know you.”
“You’re so sweet and lovely.”
The next thing she knew, he was leaning over and taking her into his arms. She wanted to give in to the need she felt for him, but her sensitivity warned her it would be a serious mistake. She reacted by pulling away from him, but he pressed closer. The pads of his thumbs rubbed erotically across her lips. Then he held her head with his hand and bent his face over hers. His fingers caught in her hair as his lips, warm and firm, pressed against her own.
Her heart was beating wildly as she withdrew from him. Surely, this was not right. Awareness of her vulnerability was more than a little frightening. He sensed her resistance and allowed her to move away.
“You were going to tell me about yourself,” she reminded him in a breathless voice.
“There isn’t much to tell—unless you want to know about the people I’ve killed in the name of patriotism.” His look was unreadable.
She felt the hum of sexual tension between them. She had always liked blue eyes in a man and his were such a deep, dark blue she felt as if she were drowning in them.
He pulled her against him, his mouth coming down on hers. This kiss was not as gentle as the previous one. He did not merely press his lips against hers but kissed her deeply, hungrily, possessively. His mouth was warm and moist and tasted of beer, tobacco and virility. She sought to break free, but this was the man of her dreams. Even if she hadn’t told him, even if he didn’t know that she had dreamt of him just as he had dreamt of her, somehow it was there between them. The connection, the need, the passion was very real. They were linked together in some primeval way that she could not hope to understand.

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Also available through the publisher Luminosity:

Karen McCullough said...

A Question of Fire, a reprint of a book published in print many years ago and republished in ebook several years back as well. As its title suggests, it's romantic suspense.


The word slithered from the bushes behind her, startling Catherine Bennett out of the few wits she'd managed to recover in the peace of the dark, quiet garden. Thready strains of violin music and the buzz of voices drifted across the lawn from the open door to the house. In the light spilling out from it, she could distinguish a couple of people sitting at a table on the deck. Cathy measured the distance with her eye. A good, heavy-duty scream would be heard, even over the party noises.

"Please, miss!" Tense urgency drove the voice as it called again.

She didn't need this. The evening had been disastrous enough already and a man hiding in the garden spelled trouble with capital letters. She got up and backed away, while turning to face the source of the call.

"Don't run away, please," the voice begged. "I won't hurt you. I promise. I just want to ask you something."

A ring of sincerity in the pleading tone kept her from sprinting straight back to the house, an action the more cautious part of her brain urged. Cathy strained for a look at the person in the shrubbery. The voice was male and adult, though probably not very old. "Come out where I can see you," she demanded.

"Shhh!" he ordered in a fierce whisper. Leaves rustled, and a slender shape detached itself from the bushes. In the darkness she couldn't distinguish his features.

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