Archive for the ‘ManinRomance Blog’ Category

Where There’s Smoke is now live!

Those who’ve read Sleeping with Danger, the fourth and latest Nevada Highlander novel, will no doubt remember Aidan Williamson—the young, tousle-haired, competent, and smart constable in a tiny Police Scotland office in Ballater.

In that novel, he rushes to what he thinks is the aid of Rory and Alex, only to find that they’ve blown off his help and have stirred up a hornet’s next. And he’s deeply pissed.

snippet cop copy

Far from a cartoon, Aidan is a stand-out cop, much more so than he realizes. In my newest work, he takes center stage. The Chief Inspector calls on him for an important undercover assignment, as Sergeant Detective in the UK’s prestigious Criminal Investigation Department.

Here’s the intro to the novella:

Aidan Williamson, just another Police Scotland constable in a tiny Highlands hamlet, is plucked from his routine life into a case of murder most foul. Still wincing from the wounds of a recent separation, Aidan keeps his emotional life tucked in his trousers, out of sight. Until he encounters Kenneth Logan—a man in self-isolation at Devil’s Point. There’s a secret buried in those soul-deep eyes.

How long before the rookie detective gives in to his almost sensual attraction to all that’s profoundly mystifying? And who will survive the killing field in a place Scots call The Demon’s Penis?

The novel is a police procedural…but (“big but,” as the CI would say)…the reclusive Logan is a force to reckon with, and not just his size. Aidan’s attraction to him is strong, and immediate. Here are two different promos I’ll be running, and maybe you ‘ll get the idea.

WTS granite use

Yes, he’s built like the proverbial brick house. And Aidan appreciates a well put together case, um, individual…

WS odyssey

I like this novella (around 30K words, so not too brief), and I hope you, the reader, will too. If the response warrants, this will be the start of a series I’ll call “Aidan Undercover.”

Here are your sales links, and thanks for your interest in the writing of Erin O’Quinn.

Amazon (kindle mobi) https://amzn.to/2Io45dK

SeaToSky (epub or pdf) https://bit.ly/2Z4wKeu  

Smashwords (epub) https://bit.ly/2HYByfz

QueeRomanceInk (links, excerpt, etc.) https://bit.ly/31iqNMM 


WTS zon 1 copy

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From the beginning, the wilding Oisean has learned to show only the velvet, and not the horn underneath…

velvet copyThose who know deer, or who live in the country, know the meaning of  “velvet”—the soft, velvety covering on a rack of antlers which nature has provided for nourishment and protection during the growth cycle. So in a way, to drop the velvet is to announce the rut, the full sexual development of the stag.

In Stag Heart, the wise teacher Dub tries to keep apart the young men he’s training under his roof: Oisean, the innocent wilding from the forests of ancient Scotland…and Fergus, the man-loving, wine-drinking, morally challenged son of the high king.

But two attractive, sensuous men can hold out only so long. And when they do finally succumb to their craving for each other, the horns emerge from under the velvet…

Fergus’ point of view:

They walked hand in hand to his familiar bed chamber. Once inside, Fergus closed and latched the door.

“Dub say…not be back, long time.”

“Um, I know. But I would hate to have him look in on us and see my naked arse.”

“You let me…pleasure you?”

“Yes. I will teach you fuck. And afterwards, when Dub comes home, we will talk to him. All right?”

Oisean smiled and sat on the bed. “Teach me.”

“First I will take off my damned triús. Cow-herder britches. So you can see mo bhod.”

“What is that word bod?”

“My cock. What I fuck with. This.”

Without watching his own fingers, he loosened the cord around his waist and let the rude trousers collapse at his feet. 

sh passion

Oisean’s eyes seemed over-bright in the low light from the oil lamp. “Your horn.”

His flesh, heavy as a bata, really did seem to jut from his groin like an antlered beast. 

I have to be careful. Can I try to make this fit in his tight little arse? No…do not frighten a fawn. Go slow…

“You may touch it, but not too much at first. I’m afraid this bad boy may cry too soon.”

His companion reached out a tentative hand and ran his finger down the length of it. In answer, his cock shuddered. Fascinated, he watched a pearl-drop form at the tip.

“That is enough, love. For now. Let me take off your bríste, as I did before.”

He knelt between Oisean’s legs and unfastened his breeches. His companion stood letting him work the deerskin off his thighs, while Fergus watched his lover’s massive horn rise. He thought of a bull deer in rut and tried to swallow the saliva surging in his mouth.

His words seemed choked.

“Now lie down. On your belly.”


Next time, I’ll excerpt the other man’s point of view. 

The novel Stag Heart, set in the Iron Warrior universe:


sh velvet okay

It’s all here at QRI: links, reviews, explicit excerpt, more: 



Kindle US https://amzn.to/2vaHD4d

Kindle UK https://amzn.to/2qACdKz

SeaToSky https://bit.ly/2HzsgVs  (pdf or epub)

Smashwords https://bit.ly/2vhucja (epub)

For those readers who’d like to start with the Iron Warrior trilogy, click here:


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Warrior, Stand Tall
w2 zon logo copy

This odyssey of two aroused men is one of Erin O’Quinn’s best in terms of exuberant, heart-pounding passion and in its journey from lust to love.

Gristle, fortyish and frustrated, is a man hard to love…by contemporaries and modern readers alike. He tries to remain aloof in every way except in the deep heart, where none may see. He’s in stern control of his emotions. He hides his jealousies and superstitions well, but they color his life in ways unbecoming a warrior.

warrior helmet met=pizap.com14374786851001 copy 2

Wynn, spirited and frisky as a mountain pony, is in love and in lust with the man twice his age.  Fortunately for Gris, the young Welsh lad has a huge sense of humor. And his attraction lies far deeper than his foreskin.

wynn-horse cut & use


Here’s an excerpt never before published outside of the pages of the  novel:

Gristle awoke to the smell of sex and man-sweat—his own, and the boy’s, too. Pungent and alluring, the smell awakened his prick immediately, and it began to move next to Wynn’s naked thighs. His lover stirred, still dreaming. 

Reluctantly, Gristle walked outside the rough barracks to relieve himself. He had to thread his way among a score of cots filled with hulking shadows. It was still dark. He could hear the incessant call of the crickets, the same shrill love song he woke to every morning in Derry. When he returned to their screen-sheltered sleep chamber, he rustled around in his supply blanket, and purely by familiar touch, he pulled out his tinderbox.

He seized a handful of straw from the cot and struck the flint and steel next to it. Soon the flame in their candle wavered, casting enough light for Gristle to begin washing himself in the shallow basin. He and Wynn would seek the river later. For now, he wanted to put on fresh clothing without soiling them with his own smell, enough to shrivel a man’s nostril hairs.

By the time Wynn woke, Gristle was a Fox Fighter again. He wore a dark-dyed tunic, dark leggings, and a black headband that almost covered his startling hair.

“Morning, O slugabed. Wash and put on your new clothing.” Traherne had wisely brought him two sets of dark garments, and even an extra kerchief. Wynn rose from his place on the rough floor, shaking sleep from his head. He went outside for a few minutes and returned grinning.

“So. Ye’re telling me I stink. Is that it?”

“If I do, then you do, too. Wash up. We can take to the river later.”

He stood aside and watched his lover, secretly wearing an erection. He saw Wynn’s nipples stiffen and his chest muscles move as he splashed water from his chin to his groin hairs. Before the boy could pull on his tunic, Gristle was behind him, sucking a spot near the nape of his neck.

“Want you.”

Wynn splashed water onto him from the basin, pretending to pull away. 

“Ye’ll scar me with your bites and sucks. Who’ll love my body then?”

Gristle was back behind him, this time cupping his buttocks. “I will. God, Wynn, do not get me started.”

“On what?” He could hear the amusement in the boy’s voice. “On bites? Or on love?”

bronze #2 copy


Gristle bit down, tasting blood. The salty tang of it surged through his veins until he was pushing his arousal into Wynn’s muscular butt, seeking his crack. Even dry, he was frantic to enter the boy. 

Without a word, Wynn scooped a handful of water over his own crack then bent a little, inviting Gristle to penetrate him. Gristle had parted his tunic and was inside him in an instant, pushing and groaning, holding his butt. He saw that Wynn was aroused enough to seize his own cock and begin to stroke fast, keeping up with his breathless thrusts.

“Fuck me, love. Fuck me hard.” When Wynn moaned those words, Gristle exploded. Then he stood there for long moments, savoring the tremors, sucking again and licking where he had left blood before. When he pulled out and away, it was with great reluctance.

“You’ve bewitched me. Go away.”

Read this second Iron Warriors novel, and if you liked it, I would be thrilled with even a brief #review!

w2 round #2 phallicM/M erotic romance action-adventure ancientIreland

On O’Quinn’s Kindle Series page:


And here, on QRI, with links, excerpt, reviews and more:


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Today I celebrate the release of the fourth Burns-Fitzgerald romance/mystery.

The title is A Kilted Christmas. This one is a little different from the others.

First, it’s a short story (13K words), instead of the novella-length ones you’ve hopefully already read.

Second, it takes both the detective Thomas and his lover Burns away from their turf, to a part of Scotland that lies about halfway between Edinburgh and Glasgow. The city is Falkirk, rich in history and set in the gateway to the Highlands.

And third, this one is an attempt to come full circle and to bring closure to a couple of oddly-matched men. Only readers will decide whether the direction of this story is logical and fulfilling too.

When  you read the story, you may be curious about the giant horses of Falkirk called The Kelpies. Here is a photo, which to me shows both the immensity and the power of those beasts. I have to admit that I have always linked this sculpture in my mind to an event which took place about the same time it opened to the public: the Scottish Parliament’s passing of the same-sex marriage act.


Two raging beasts … an expression of freedom and power … a fitting tribute to GLBT marriage.

More about the story later. For now, I hope you’ll enjoy two unusual lovers as they put a climax to their passionate story.


The links are:

Amazon http://amzn.to/1RjtNyV
Amazon UK http://amzn.to/1HDgO9a
OmniLit http://bit.ly/1jw7GaD
Smashwords http://bit.ly/1StcaLz





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The Kilt ComplexHigh crimes and sexy misdemeanors.

Yes, the characters are the same—horny, agressive, jackhammer-for-a-prick Rory Drummond; and “long-legged, raven-eyed, sweet-assed loner”** Alex Dominguez.

But in this sequel to Nevada Highlander, Alex has left the sanctuary of his mountains, finding himself near the coast of Scotland’s North Sea, festering in his role as boy-toy in Rory’s large castle bedchamber. For his part, Rory is increasingly bemused and confused by his growing attraction to the young man who’s so different from his previous lovers.

Here’s a scene I haven’t excerpted before, when the two men are together in Rory’s giant marble tub, and it’s becoming clear to Rory that his tub-mate wants to be alone for a while.


Rory eyed Alejo’s reclining form, his belly tightening as he pondered the man’s flat relaxed muscles and quiescent cock. Alex was sitting in the marble tub, his long legs crossed at the ankles, while Rory adjusted the water temperature and allowed the large tub to fill. It had been less than an hour since he’d shot his cum into his lover’s tight hot ass… yet he wanted him again, now.2 men tub

With an effort, he remembered what Alan had said. About listening with more than his ears. Maybe that meant listening with more than his dick…

He deliberately held back, soaping his lover’s honey-brown skin then pointing the brass nozzle and rinsing, removing the pungent reminder of a hard morning’s labor. He worked his lathered palm under Alex’s armpit, hardening as he felt the silky hairs nestled in the warm hollow.

Och, I could foog this cave with my tongue while he jacks me off. We’ve not done that yet. Or ram my meat into it until I come all over his tits. He sought the other underarm, feeling the pre-cum seep through the slit of his dick.

“Tell me again, lad, about the … um, your new job.”

Alex waggled his brows at Rory’s rising interest and grinned. “Sit here with me. We’ll wash each other, and then I have a … something I need to do for the next hour or so. Okay?”

Rory let the nozzle slip into the soapy water and straddled his lover’s thighs. “Fine, corazón. But first— ”


He’d begun to lean forward, seeking Alex’s mobile mouth. Something about the man’s voice stopped his single-minded intent.

“I’m serious. Let’s wait until later. I ate with Willie, so I’m not hungry. But you must be starved. Why don’t you catch a few bites to eat while I’m gone? I promise I’ll be back soon. We can talk then. Talk, and … catch up on each other’s day.”

“I’m beginning to think, lad, you want to be alone.” Rory heard the petulance in his own voice and attempted a smile, trying to belie his frustration.

Alex kept his eyes on his face, his expression never altering, as he took the bar of soap from his hand and briskly ran it over Rory’s shoulders and chest. “Alone, not necessarily. But right now, I have a task that’s better for me to take care of without …”

“Without interference?”in tub copy

“Without my lover distracting me.” To underscore his meaning, he took Rory’s hand and guided it to his cock, beginning to rise like Moby Dick from the deep. “You see? Sometimes one head’s better than two.”

Feeling a bit mollified, Rory managed a grin and fondled the stiff velvet.

“Funny, Alejo. All right. I’ll let you dress, while I dash out a while.”

“Don’t forget to check on Thistle.”


“Our dog. Um, the new dog.”

Rory reluctantly loosed his hold on his tub-mate and soaped his own groin, not without a sour look at Alex; then after rinsing, he stepped from the tub, letting the water flow from his chest and testicles to the tiled floor and down the central drain. He walked to the brass rack and chose an oversized soft cotton towel then stood drying himself in brisk strokes, still admiring Rory’s trim, muscled body.

“Don’t get attached, lad. Remember, we’re seeking her owner. I don’t want to pry you two apart when the time comes to bid her a fare-thee-well.”

Alex regarded him with those deep set eyes, black depths kindled by some fire, like … like Vulcan’s forge in the bottom of a smoldering volcano. Those eyes had almost set him on his arse when they first met, thickening his tongue and his cock at the same bloody time.

“And you became my father … when?”kiss tongues

He loved it when his lover played the orphan card, letting his history without parents become a subtle weapon.

Walking close again, he leaned over Alex and nibbled his raspy chin, then let his tongue find the hidden dimple under his lower lip and finally his lover’s open mouth.

When he straightened with an effort, he played his part to the hilt. “When you hide your marbles, lad, and won’t let anyone else play. Go on, do what you need to do. I’ll be back when I get here.”


**So described by reviewer Alex A. Akira in Rainbow Book Reviews, here:


The Kilt Complex:

High crimes and sexy misdemeanors

Kindle UK: http://amzn.to/1EQn6Qq
omnilit http://bit.ly/1tvfx7E
An ARe and OmniLit Bestseller
Print: http://amzn.to/17Xs27N

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