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Archive for the ‘All O’Quinn gay-themed titles’ Category

Aidan Undercover is now a Trilogy!

Several months ago, I wrote a novella titled Where There’s Smoke, about a rookie undercover dick. The young Aidan Williamson, on the trail of a killer, finds a unique “mountain man” at the base of the demon’s penis, aka Devil’s Point in Scotland’s Highlands.

In a crude stone hut, he and Logan find something about each other that rises beyond a passing fascination. The meeting also sparks an author to continue their story… One novella becomes three… A fascination becomes the focus of a real love story.

Amazon has just published the Aidan Undercover trilogy on its own unique page. Check it out! Each novella is around 30K words (70 pages), fast and furious and full of unusual action.

AU with hearts promo From the current promo:

🌈🕵️‍♂️🔥 Under the skirts of her majesty: AIDAN UNDERCOVER is a three-novella series about mystery, mayhem, and romance.

WHERE THERE’S SMOKE: Fire plays a part in this first mystery, as rookie detective Aidan Williamson finds something that makes him give up cigars and start sleeping in a verra hard place.

DEEP FURY… It’s both a brand of lube and an attitude. Aidan finds just enough about Victoria’s Secret to be nervous ahead of the Queen’s annual visit—and enough about his own needs to start seeing in the dark.

SPILLED PASSION… Passion takes many forms. Lust, love, jealousy, hate, fear—all can spill out when we least expect. What we leave behind in our most emotional moments may separate a man from a beast, a father from a son, or a lustful man from a dedicated lover.

#gay #mystery #undercovercop #Scotland #eroticContent #romance #action #humor #Standalone #novellas 🌈🕵️‍♂️🔥

On the new Kindle Series page. Purchase one or all!

https://t2m.io/OrVfzbtu

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I’m just beginning the third of a triplet of novellas. My muse, damn her, insisted that I start with an iconic dream: the archetypal craving for flight.

These few words begin the story told in Spilled Passion.

icarus gold

This is a stock image from the web…the iconic Icarus.

Aidan Williamson lay basking in a dream, the kind of fantasy he used to have, back when he was a boy just discovering the pubic nest, the fledgling cock, the joy of release.

He was flying, he was soaring, higher and higher. Some ache far inside his ass was propelling him upward, to the sun, dick first…

Except this time the dream was real. Logan curled next to him, a careless leg hitched over his own spent body, warm breath fanning his cheek.

Aidan’s cock grow heavy again with remembered passion.

In this (probably final) series work, Aidan tries to burst the bounds of heavy earth. But first, he has to confront his demons—and his angels too.
Here’s a mashup of the three novellas, and a link to the first two.

aidan series tryptich 2

https://amzn.to/2XKxIR2 

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The orange flames waved at the crowd as paper and print dissolved inside them. Burning words were torn from their sentences.”

~Markus Zusak, The Book Thief

burning.png

Facebook, stung by accusations of allowing hate speech,  has taken the role of book burner. If a post shows “questionable” nudity…if the text “goes against community standards”…Zap! It’s removed, and the poster is put in purgagory for an arbitrary length of time.

In my case, it was an image of two men, their nether regions covered in a sheet, lying together on a bed. Naughty! Nudity! The text was the opening of my newest novella, still being written. And the whole nasty thing was shared with one private group of erotica writers.

That was enough to put me in FB jail, judged by the kangaroo court that writers of gay lit often find themselves facing and judged by, with no hope of defense.

Here’s the image, somewhat altered by a decorative art application, and the text. Brace yourself for a barrage of nasty filthy private words spoken by two men who favor each other…

The Morning After

Waking up with a landslide in his lap, Aidan could barely see his date by the glow of the kitchen night light. They were curled together on the tacky linoleum. Above his head hunkered the shadow of his heavy slat-backed chair, seat of recent passion.

His piss-hard was painful, and persistent. But he wanted to hang onto this man a while longer.

They’d known each other for—not months, or weeks, or days—for whole hours. But they shared a spark, an ember, that had smoldered and caught in the dry kindling of a stone hut. The flame had started in his cock, spread to his butt, then fired his gut and his tattered soul.

He would not easily let this one go.

In sleep, his frame collapsed to fit Aidan’s embrace, Logan was not so much a mountain as a boulder. His cheeks were stubbled by new growth, but the close beard was soft as angel hair. Aidan imagined rather than saw the curve of his dark lashes, the planes of his cheeks, the pouting sensitive mouth. And below, the swell of his arousal…

Why didn’t he even look at my bed? Maybe he could sense that another man had fucked me there. And sleeping on the bloody floor—a substitute for his own stone haven? Will he ever shout his honest need to me…or to any man?

in bed

He hoped the answers would come, in time.

“Logan.” He murmured in the man’s ear, then put his tongue inside for good measure. The response was immediate, a volcanic rumble.

“Little Fire. It must be time to leave.”

“Aye. Fast shower first?”

“How fast?”

“Just long enough. No time for your Deep Fury.” Logan and his magical gel had been, in a word, extraordinary.

A low laugh, a seeking of his mouth and tongue…the adamantium mountain was awake and ready.

At least my publisher…oh, that would be yours truly…New Dawn Press will publish this later. Right now, it’s one third complete. A mystery, BTW, not an erotic romp, or even a romance.  The bare beginnings of an interesting friendship.

The novella is tentatively titled Deep Fury and is the sequel to Where There’s Smoke.

Kindle US https://t2m.io/BH0DYkaZ

Kindle UK https://t2m.io/DfeqsJva

SeaToSky (pdf or epub) https://t2m.io/Pa6vV5Ri

Smashwords (epub) https://t2m.io/2BNba3Sp 

QueeRomance Ink (all links, excerpt, reviews, other info) https://t2m.io/qsZHJd7B  

Where they burn books, they will, in  the end, burn people.

~German poet Heinrich Heine

 

 

 

 

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Readers who’ve followed Erin O’Quinn’s *Nevada Highlander series may remember a certain constable from the most recent novel **Sleeping with Danger…a tousle-haired young man named Aidan Williamson out of Ballater’s small Police Scotland office.

ballater ps

This Google Maps photo captures the small building where two of Scotland’s finest hang out, fighting crime and boredom…

I keep wondering about Aidan… Why does a Scot have a name like Williamson? What keeps a vigorous, inquisitive young man behind a desk in a tiny hamlet in the Highlands? Was he telling Rory the truth when he admitted to loving his unnamed mate—and if so, who’s the lucky partner? Male, or female?

Recently I sat at my keyboard and began to wonder with my fingers. Here’s the result: about 800 words of a new work. Novel, or novella? Not sure. Probably a novella, with a new love interest who may (or may not) show up in another book. We’ll see.

Here’s a make-believe promo, using models whose images I’ll need to purchase if I decide to use them.

wts smoky coll

Chapter 1
From the Ashes

Pain rode like a surly hitch-hiker in the small of his back.

Aidan leaned back in the creaky swivel chair, his long legs crossed on the splintered desk, trying to ease a distant ache.

Almost five o’clock. Time for the night shift to appear in the form of Michael Murphy. He lifted his reluctant feet off the scarred surface, careful not to scrape the shine off his PS-issued brogans, pretending he wasn’t bored to fucking death and in desperate need of a cigar and a bed, in any order.

His reports were complete. Check. He’d scanned the latest Police Scotland bulletins on his desktop computer. Check. He’d gone to the rescue of a tabby cat on a roof and an elderly man who’d lost his way in Ballater’s only bus station. Check. He’d answered the phone fifty times, at least, and only half of them wrong numbers.

Now what?

He tried not to think about the four walls waiting for him in his bland flat, or saying goodbye to Justin. Not “see you later,” or “be good, man.” Saying goodbye, farewell, sayonara.

The parting had been a year in the making. Justin’s work day getting longer…his own shift needing more scrupulous attention…their days off never seeming to coincide…their sex life  as routine as the Ballater Community W.A.T.C.H. he wrote up each week for the website.

We Are The Community Helpers.

Ha.

So. Justin was now a clerk in the Aberdeen office of the Regional Judge. 

He sighed. Not exactly a life filled with excitement and danger, like his own—the thrill-a-minute existence of an underpaid Sergeant Constable in the tiny Ballater office of Police Scotland.

At the sound of a vehicle pulling into the cramped concrete parking lot, he stood and pretended to scan the bulletins pinned to the cork board. Lost pets, alerts on suspected stalkers, a lonely man reported lurking in petrol stations, reminders to call in any sighting of a 2009 gray grocery getter, commendations of model citizens, and even a few random constables in other towns who’d earned a promotion…

He turned to greet his office mate, and found another man altogether.

Chief Inspector Grant McDowell was no longer young, but he was a match for any officer on the force. Aidan didn’t know him, except to stand straighter and make eye contact on the few occasions their paths had crossed—one commemorative dinner, two funerals, and a parking lot somewhere, maybe a year ago.

It was either a talent or a curse that Aiden could read character in someone’s eyes and body language. That hidden skill had served him well during the four years he’d toiled for Police Scotland. It had won a few friends…he thought about his ex, of course, and his recent acquaintance with the faux-Constables Alex and Rory…and the same ability had also earned more than his share of arrests.

Even with his cap under his arm, the inspector stood over six feet, a shade under his own height. The sandy-gray hair, worn straight back from his forehead, lent him an almost leonine air, a feral animal trapped in a cage. His eyes, pale blue behind the black-rimmed glasses, hinted at an ancestry well beyond the Highlands and Islands. They were steel-hard, intelligent, restless, hungry…

CI

McDowell didn’t wait for Aidan to approach him. He strode the few paces to the bulletin board and held out his bear’s paw of a hand.

“Sergeant Williamson. Nice to see you again.”

Since his superior had chosen to see him here, in his own tiny office late on a Friday afternoon, Aidan ungraciously thought it was hardly nice, but a surprise nonetheless. He liked McDowell, but he hated rude awakenings.

What had he done wrong?

Fuck, Aidan, think positive. What have you done right?

He shook the proffered hand and smiled with his mouth and his eyes too. The man’s grasp was strong and honest.

“The pleasure is mine, sir. Um, have a seat? Or…”

“Or not, Sergeant. I’ve come to whisk you away for an hour, tops. Your second-shift man Murphy should be here—” he glanced at his watch—“any minute now.”

How did someone from the echelons of power know the name of his five-to-dawn partner? He’d done his homework, obviously. “Yes, sir. So you want to…”

“To take you somewhere with a bar top and a nodding acquaintance with a wee dram. Know any place close by?” The ironic tone wasn’t even necessary. The inspector wasn’t testing him. He already knew Aidan liked his whisky and cigar. 

aidan cigar h:s

He grinned at the older man. “I recommend the Black Boar. Five minutes from here—but isn’t every place in Ballater?”

McDowell laughed outright. “This burg is a favorite of mine, but yes, ’tis not over-populated with pubs. I’ll meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

 

 

Stay tuned for the rest of chapter one, if I decide to write this new one, Where there’s Smoke.

bristlecone 4 use

*The Nevada Highlander Series (4 novels) is here: http://amzn.to/2kZE8VU 

**Sleeping with Danger is the fourth of the series

 

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What’s the spark that started the fire?

flame on whte

This is the second in a series, my retrospective on how Erin O’Quinn’s men first met.

“The Gaslight Mysteries” is a five-novel series starring a hard-fisted, hard-drinking Irishman named Michael McCree; and a surly, angry PI named Simon Hart. The tag line for this best-selling series is  “Gay Retro with a Twist.”

These two men, unlikely mates, take five novels to “come together,” in every way. The series is full of fun, cat-and-mouse sexual tension, and “retro” atmosphere.

heart fingerprints

When Michael Meets Simon… Heart to Hart
May 1, Beltane, 1923. From ch 1, Michael’s pov, “A New Dawn”

Michael’s life began all over again on Monday. The rain that had been threatening for weeks finally banged Dun Linden with bare fists just as dawn broke, pummeling and pounding, leaving everyone a little off balance. Setting the banner line for the day’s newspaper edition, he’d looked up from the linotype into the most arresting pair of eyes he’d ever seen. They were soulful and tormented, of a color somewhere between teal and turquoise, like a rare metal seen once in a lifetime. Or an undiscovered ocean on the edge of a wet dream. He stared in spite of himself at the man behind the eyes.

He was tall—all of six feet, almost as tall as Michael. A black felt bowler hat covered his hair. But Michael knew it had to be as dark as the eyebrows and the growing shadow around his upper lip and chin. Had the man even slept last night? The mouth itself was sulky, arrogant, almost angry.

simon suit copy

Michael’s cock set up a slow hammering beneath the stiff leather apron.

He grinned and shifted a wooden match between his teeth. “’Tis help ye need, now?”

Under a fine woolen greatcoat, invitingly open, the man was wearing an impeccably smooth silk brocade jacket, with a neck scarf to reflect the unusual blue of his eyes.

“Yes.” His voice was as clipped and rude as his mouth. “You may place this obituary in the newspaper. And you may insert an advert as well.”

I may, may I? Maybe I’ll insert something else, lad. To himself, Michael mimicked the other’s tone of voice. He knew the man had been educated at a few up-yer-arse schools, probably Eton, then Cambridge. He barely moved his mouth when he articulated every syllable. Here was a man who wouldn’t know a back-alley expression if it slid up his bunghole.

heart fingerprints

But Simon’s impression of that first meeting, as one would expect from a closeted man, is a world apart.

When Simon meets Michael…Thin as Smoke
(May 1, Beltane, 1924: a year later. From Simon’s pov, ch 2, “A New Client”

He’d awakened yesterday with the instant knowledge it was Beltane eve. An anniversary of sorts. A date his new partner had obliquely referred to several times as though it called for some kind of romantic celebration. Their first meeting, in the newspaper shop.

Simon still had a hard time piecing together those fevered days one year ago after he’d discovered the murdered body of his business partner. Try as he might, he could not remember even dressing on that long-ago morning, much less composing an obit notice and an advert for a new flat-mate. Had he perhaps slept in his suit and greatcoat? It was possible. What he did remember was the rain. After weeks of unnatural drought, the deluge seemed to be wreaking punishment on saint and sinner alike.

fedora crop

Has it really been one entire year? He remembered taking his Bushmills bottle to bed each night for several days after he found Sargent sprawled across the surface of their old mahogany desk. He’d avoided the flat they’d shared, seeking the knotted bedding at his gentleman’s club where his old friend’s ghost was a little dimmer. He later remembered the cheeky fellow in the New Dawn anteroom because the bastard had extorted a prince’s ransom for his newspaper’s services and had the gall to pound on his door a few days later to extract even more.

For Simon, Beltane eve was the day he’d tried to soak the blood of his foxhole friend from a desk blotter. And Beltane was not the day he’d met Michael McCree. It was the day he’d set down another man’s death in indelible India ink.

flame on whte

GL full covers

The series has its own Kindle Series page.

THE GASLIGHT MYSTERIES 5 novels

http://amzn.to/2CZsBxm

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Just recently I published the conclusion to a two-novel series, and then it dawned on my tired brain—the novel marked a milestone for me. That book (Unbroken) meant that I’d penned six MM series, for a total of twenty-five titles.

I’ve found that most readers who enjoyed a story find it hard to let go. That’s also true of the authors who create their unique universe. I damn well fall in love with the men who inhabit the pages of my work. So how can I write THE END and really mean it?

These are the men who’ve made me a series ho…

[1] ancient warriors in the time of St. Patrick, and their surprising friends  [2] an outlaw Scot and the righteous Quaker who falls in love with him  [3] private dicks who take five novels to get down and really dirty  [4] no-frills country boys from Nevada  [5] a tousled undercover cop and a mysterious scholar  [6] a bigger-than-life Highlander and a shy Nevada State Trooper

Here they are! Each series has one convenient Amazon Kindle link, listed below the image.

series tangerine correx

[1] THE IRON WARRIOR 3 novels + 1 in same universe

http://amzn.to/2n3sTgh 

[2] THE RENEGADE AND THE RUNAWAY 2 novels

https://amzn.to/2JXjDcv

[3] THE GASLIGHT MYSTERIES 5 novels

http://amzn.to/2CZsBxm

[4] NOBLE DIMENSIONS 2 novels and a novella

http://amzn.to/2EqIsqs 

[5] THE BURNS! MYSTERIES 6 novellas and a final (?) novel

http://amzn.to/2BRlmIn 

[6] NEVADA HIGHLANDER 4 novels

http://amzn.to/2kZE8VU 

total 18 novels and 7 novellas 

I hope you…my readers “out there”…will choose the first book of any O’Quinn series and get serious about growing a set!

 

erin avy nebula cut

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