It’s Snippet Sunday!

Hey, readers,

Here’s a treat for you today. I’m inviting authors of all kinds of genres to share a tempting snippet from one of their books to give us a quick peek into their story. It’s a fun way to get a look at new authors and books you might not have discovered.

If you’re an author, please post in the comments a short paragraph or few lines to give us a hint about your book and writing style. (No erotica. One buy or website link only, please)

I’ll start. Here’s a snippet from Barefoot Days, book three in my small-town women’s fiction trilogy. Coming soon!

John gave a barely perceptible nod, and walked past Mary.

Mary stepped to the counter and gave her order while frost settled in her chest. What in the world was going on? She couldn’t remember offending anyone – recently. Mentally, she ticked through the various committees she served, trying to pinpoint an issue. She came up empty, but she was no stranger to drama. The slightest ember could erupt into flames with but a whisper of hot air.

Find books one and two here!

12 thoughts on “It’s Snippet Sunday!

  1. Hello! I’m Belle Blackburn, author of The Doctor’s Daughter: Journey to Justice and The Doctor’s Daughter: The Choice. Both are set in Civil War Nashville and have lots of antebellum law and medicine, history, romance and humor. Who knows what a crinkum-crankum is? Read The Choice and find out. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Cinderella, P. I. is back, twenty years (mostly), three kids, and a few extra pounds after the ball. Join the fun as she deals with lots of other detectives, a snippy stepsister, an earworm, a runaway beast, a forgetful knight, her sneaky stepmother, and a hit fairy. These seven fairy tale mystery stories for grown-ups appear in Cinderella, P. I., First Case to Last, new from Juliet Kincaid, only $2.99 at Happy endings guaranteed!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Theresa Hupp here. This is a snippet from Chapter 1 of my WIP, a novel about the Oregon Trail.

    Esther is window-shopping in Independence, Missouri, in 1847:

    Esther moved on to the next store window. A bolt of blue calico sat in that window, bright blue with little yellow flowers. Oh, she wanted a dress out of a pretty pattern like that. Ma only bought plain colors or dull plaids. Nothing bright or lovely. Sometimes Esther could find a little lace to sew around her collar, or a ribbon to cover where her skirt had been lengthened, but otherwise her clothes were so drab. At least she was the eldest girl and didn’t have to wear hand-me-downs, except for a blouse or two cut down from Ma.

    As Esther stared in the window, she caught a reflection behind her. A man in a broad-brimmed hat walked along the boardwalk balancing a saddle on one shoulder. His form reminded her of the young man who’d crossed her path in camp several days earlier, and she turned.

    It WAS him. And this time she could see his face. He wasn’t just tall and broad-shouldered, he had a pleasant smile and big brown eyes beneath light brown hair. My, he was fine. Esther cocked her head and gave him a broad smile.

    * * * * *

    You can find my earlier historical novels about the Oregon Trail and the California Gold Rush at

    Thanks! Theresa

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Hi, Chad Sanborn here. This is an excerpt from my crime novel, “All Debts, Public And Private.”

    In this scene Arlita is on the phone with her drug-addicted daughter, Mona. Arlita’s just informed Mona that her daughter (Arlita’s granddaughter) has been kidnapped.

    As Mona demands to know what Arlita is doing about the situation, what Arlita is doing about it — or more precisely who Arlita is going to have do something about it — arrives…

    …A miracle if Arlita had somehow managed to slice through all the dope, get her daughter to actually feel some kind of hurt.

    The silence on the line continuing. Arlita looking out the picture window, seeing a mud-splattered red pickup truck pull up in front of her house. A wiry man in his late forties stepping from the truck.

    Wearing blue jeans and muddy cowboy boots. Gibbon arms dangling from the too-short sleeves of an untucked flannel shirt. Slowly, the man clomping his way up the sidewalk, something jarring, violent even, in his heel-toe gait. His sallow face growing grimmer with each step he took toward Arlita’s front porch.

    Arlita, phone still cradled in her neck, opening the door. Whispering hello, ushering this menacing guest into her home.

    Mona hearing her mother’s whisper on the line, asking who’s there? The man took a seat on her couch, not even pretending not to listen in on Arlita’s end of her telephone conversation.

    “Company,” Arlita said….

    You can get a free copy of “All Debts, Public And Private” by visiting:

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Readers,
    I’m trying my hand at a new genre–time travel. My Work in Progress [to be published in January] will take you back to the world of Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, the Belle Epoque, and the bohemian life of artists and writers in 1900 Paris.

    Here is a snippet–just after the main character arrives in 1900 via time travel, wearing a long pink gown.

    “Where am I? The Moulin Rouge? The woman in pink. Me?” Adreinne gazed at herself in a floor-to-ceiling mirror across the room.

    There was a cream colored boa draped around her neck, cascading down the front of her pink dress. She wore a white felt hat with yellow feathers.

    Adrienne touched the hat and ran her fingers through the feathery boa. She looked down at her dress and shoes, then reached around to touch her bustle. “Oh my God,” she muttered.

    Offenbach’s familiar can-can music blared throughout the room as bawdy revelers swilled drinks.

    Conversations layered one atop the other creating a riotous cacophony.

    She’d stepped into the painting! “It’s the Moulin Rouge,” she gasped.

    Be ready for a trip back in time–to the Montmartre, on the edge of Paris. It was a tempting world of cabarets, writers, artists, and the infamous can-can dancers!

    Be sure to visit me on Thanks! And watch for my newest novel come January, 2017.

    Amazon Author Central:

    Liked by 1 person

  6. JAMES AND JACK: Coming soon.

    James pictured himself starting the motor, driving down that peaceful—make that dead—street, cross Main, which was also State Highway 21, and straight on through town to the open road. In a matter of hours, he could be seeing country he’d never seen before!

    He thought about college. He thought about his dad’s printing business. He thought about how bored he was. Then he thought about how chicken he was and got out of the car, slammed the door and went in to dinner.
    Excerpt on the “Works In Progress” page on my website

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Thanks for the invite to take part in this, Darlene. What a super fun idea!

    *Waves* Hi, everyone. I’m Ev Bishop, and I write Contemporary Romance and Women’s Fiction. Here’s a snippet from WEDDING BANDS, Book 1 in my River’s Sigh B & B series.

    – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

    Jo scrubbed her hands and started peeling potatoes. Samantha sighed dramatically. “I was hoping you’d look human when you met my lawyer, but thankfully I’ve already warned him about you.”

    “Your what? Here, now—what?”

    Samantha flourished one hand. “Callum, we’re ready for you.” A shadow moved in the dining room.


    Jo was so angry she could hardly see.

    And then she was so startled she almost sliced her thumb with the potato peeler. She put it down. Callum? As in Callum Archer? Her old Callum? No . . . the first name was a coincidence. Had to be. A tall man walked out of the living room and extended his hand.

    “Callum Archer,” Samantha said and Jo’s brain swam. “Josephine—or Jo, as she’s sometimes called—my sister.”

    Jo tried to give the hand gripping hers a firm shake, but as she met his piercing aqua blue eyes—eyes she’d never forget—she started to freak out. An irrational observation hit her: the man, Sam’s lawyer, her old Callum, had strong sexy-rough hands for a guy working a desk job. Her stomach churned. Breathe, she commanded herself. Breathe. It was absolutely no comfort at all that he looked as shocked as she felt.

    – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

    Each book in the series is a great standalone and can be read in any order, but if you want to start at the beginning, you can get WEDDING BANDS for free right now for a limited time:

    Wishing you cozy nights and wonderful reads,
    🙂 Ev

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Thank you, Darlene, for the chance to share. I’m busy writing the fourth book in the Psycho Cat and the Landlady Mystery series now–Important Detail, a murder mystery.
    Here is a snippet from the third book, Nine Lifelines. Beth, the landlady discovers the second mystery in her new condo digs. More sinister ones will come to light soon.

    “What’s going on here?” Beth asked.

    The kid, her wavy red hair half over her face, glanced sideways at Beth and then back at her phone. Somehow she kept her thumbs busy punching letters while she answered. “Another lock was picked. That old woman’s apartment got robbed.”

    “Robbed? What did they take—jewelry, money, electronics?” Beth looked up and down the hallway. There wasn’t any way a thief could make off with televisions and computers without being caught before exiting the building, what with the security guard and the cameras at the exits. “Where’s the elderly woman whose stuff was taken?”

    The girl looked up at Beth and had the grace to look sheepish. “I mean, the widow lady who lives here, Mrs. Burke over there…” She pointed to a middle-aged woman, about Beth’s age. “…is missing some little thing. I heard them say that this time the crook took a package of fancy buttons the lady bought to sew on a shirt.”

    “This time?”

    “Yeah.” The teen narrowed her eyes. “Do you live in this building?”

    “The tenth floor. We just moved in a couple of weeks ago.”

    Find all my mysteries on my author page:

    Liked by 1 person

  9. This is a snippet from “Hard Times in the Heartland,” the third in my Late Sooner Series.

    The next Monday evening Henry picked out the mail from the box as he entered the house. He thumbed through it while he ate some leftover turkey hash before heading to the hospital. One letter was from the Selective Service Agency. Inside was a card on which was written:

    Notice of Reclassification
    Henry Sanford Freeman has been reclassified from 4-A to 1-A.

    It was signed by the local draft board member and postmarked on November 25, 1942.
    His stomach rolled as he whispered, “My God. The day after Sally was born. Wonder how long it will be before they call me up? How Harriet will take this?”

    When he visited Harriet after supper, he didn’t mention the draft notice.

    The Late Sooner series is found here

    Liked by 1 person

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