Posts Tagged ‘sneak peek’

Sneak Peek!

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September 19th, 2020 Posted 8:15 am

Bark vs. Snark, 3rd in the middle-grade (but adults with fake ID can buy them) Queenie and Arthur series, comes out Oct. 6. Arthur (pictured here in the middle) and Queenie (to his left, or maybe right – you’ll have to read it to find out) tells the story in alternating chapters. Arthur leads off.

Ah, summer. My favorite season of the year by far, way better than … those other ones, the names not coming right off the bat. And here’s something you should know about me: whatever doesn’t come right off the bat, doesn’t come, period. So I don’t even bother trying to remember! Who needs bother? A life free from bother is the life for me! You should try it! But don’t try too hard. Trying too hard turns out to be bothersome all by itself. Nothing’s simple, as humans like to say, although it’s not the kind of remark I like to hear. I prefer “Who’s a good boy?” And “anyone want a treat?”

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Sneak Peek!

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May 2nd, 2020 Posted 9:51 am

https://www.torforgeblog.com/2020/05/01/excerpt-of-mutts-and-men-by-spencer-quinn/

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Of Mutts And Men: Cover Reveal! Plus Excerpt!

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December 12th, 2019 Posted 7:39 am

Many thanks to The Bark – The New Yorker of dog periodicals. Pub date for Of Mutts and Men is July 7, but it is available for pre-order this very minute.

https://thebark.com/content/cover-reveal-mutts-and-men

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Beginnings + Sneak Peek

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September 8th, 2019 Posted 10:02 am

On Sundays we do beginnings – the first paragraph or two from a Peter Abrahams novel, including those written under the Spencer Quinn moniker. For one thing, this gives us a chance to trot out the word moniker, a strange one of uncertain derivation. Today’s beginning is also a sneak peek. Paws vs. Claws, the second in the middle grade Queenie and Arthur series, comes out Sept. 17. Here’s how it starts:

“Bad news, pussycat,” said Bertha. “No cream today.”

No cream today? Had I heard right? Well, that’s not a real question. Of course I’d heard right. My hearing is as good as it gets. Everything about me is as good as it gets. My looks, for example, are off the charts. I’m a thing of beauty from my gold-flecked button nose to the tip of my snowy tail. And my eyes! I’ll make this simple: When you gaze into them, you never want to stop. That’s happened to me so often—in fact, every time I come upon a mirror.

There are no mirrors in our kitchen, here at the Blackberry Hill Inn. I prefer rooms with mirrors but I make an exception for the kitchen. Every morning when I wake up I take an elegant little stretch—very different from the clumsy stretches of a certain other party who inhabits this place and whom you’ll probably meet later, nothing I can do about it—and I glide down off the top of the grandfather clock in the front hall and make my way here, where Bertha, the cook, is standing by to serve me fresh cream in a pretty china saucer, white with a gold border. This saucer is known to everyone as Queenie’s saucer. I’m Queenie, in case you haven’t guessed. I hope I’m not going too fast, although if I am, don’t expect me to do anything about it.

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