Douglas Quinn's Page

Douglas Quinn autographing books at the Blue Heron Marsh Book Launch Party on September 1, 2007.

Brenda Wynn, Fantasy Author and Douglas Quinn's Editor at the Blue Heron Marsh Book Launch Party

Kim Howell, Mystery/Suspense Reader and Invited guest at Douglas Quinn's Blue Heron Marsh Book Launch Party.

Kathy Sparrow and son Brian, special guest at Douglas Quinn's Blue Heron Marsh Book Launch Party. The book was dedicated to Kathy's husband and well-knwon Outer Banks artist, Frank Sparrow (deceased).


Excerpts from Douglas Quinn's Novels

Excerpt from Blue Heron Marsh by Douglas Quinn (available at www.amazon.com, www, barnesandnobel.com and many other online booksellers)::

My thoughts were interrupted when Amanda said, “I wish that damned car behind us would either drop back or go around us. It’s really starting to piss me off.”

I turned in the passenger seat and could see a vehicle behind us, following too close. “Has it been following that close for a while?”

“Just for the past few minutes,” Amanda said. “And the bastard has his high beams on. People can be so damned stupid and inconsiderate.”

As she was talking, I felt her accelerate. We were already doing seventy-five and I looked over at the speedometer and saw it jump up to eighty-five. The guy behind us not only kept up but seemed to be edging even closer. “What in hell is this idiot trying to do?” I shouted. Probably some damned asshole kid out on a Friday night trying to show off to his girlfriend or buddies. “Idiot’s going to get himself killed,” I said.

“Or us,” Amanda said, and punched it up to ninety, then ninety-five, then a hundred.

“Shit! He’s hanging right there with us.” I held up my hand to shield my eyes from his brights. It seemed like he was right in our damned trunk.

“Hold on,” Amanda said and punched it up to a hundred and ten. I hoped her engine was well tuned and wouldn’t blow. Without warning, Amanda slammed on the brakes and I was jerked forward toward the dash board. I felt like the seat belt was ripping through my chest and waist. Behind us I heard more screeching and suddenly the high beams that had been flooding through our back window were gone. Then, just as suddenly, I was thrown back in the seat, my head bouncing off the head rest as Amanda floored the Toyota and shot ahead.

“Jesus H. Christ!” I shouted.

“I told you to hold on, didn’t I?” Amanda said, laughing.

As I regained my composure, I twisted around in the seat, looking for the other car. I couldn’t see anything. “What the hell happened to the other guy?” I asked.

“Last I saw, his headlights were doing 360s in the dark.”

“Damn. Should we go back?”

“Fuck that,” Amanda said. “I hope the bastard’s in a ditch somewhere with his head busted open.”

Excerpt from The Spanish Game by Douglas Quinn (available at www.amazon.com, www, barnesandnobel.com and many other online booksellers)::

At the same time there was a knock on the front door. Jennie went to the front window and looked outside. It was the nosey neighbor from the previous night. “Probably wants to know if the damned police came out,” Jennie said to herself. She opened the door and said, “Hola, Señor.”

The neighbor ignored the pleasantries and said, “I see you had some security installed after last night.”

Jennie wondered if the guy had x-ray vision and could see into the bag of hardware her dad had brought in. “That’s right,” she said. “Dad is starting to install it now.”

The neighbor looked confused and said, “But the man that was here earlier already took care of it.”

Jennie, looking confused and alarmed at the same time said, “What man?” Then she turned and called out to her father, “Dad, would you come out here please.”

As she said it, he appeared from the back of the house, saying, “I think someone got in here while we were gone.”

“What man?” Jennie repeated to the neighbor.

He gestured toward the driveway. “The man in the white panel truck from Reliable Security–“

”Shit!” Jennie shouted. “We’ve gotta get out of here now!” Then to the neighbor, “Get out of here, now! Get away!” Then to her dad and Marie, “Get out! Get out!”

Excerpt from The Catalan Gambit by Douglas Quinn (available at www.amazon.com, www.barnesandnobel.com and many other online booksellers)::

Henry was boxed, trapped between two four-story warehouses. He leaned back against the brick fascia, his head thrown back, gasping for breath. He felt dizzy from the exertion and the hot stifling air. Try and think. He surveyed his surroundings. Trash bins stood against the back wall. There were no outside fire escapes or ladders. He eased himself up to the corner and looked around, down toward the entrance. The truck that he had cut in front of was parked at the curb, blocking his vision, also blocking vision into the alley. More trash bins lined the right side of the alley, all the way to the front. There were no entrances to the building on that side, but the opposite building had three doors. Hide in one of the trash bins? A possibility.

He looked again. No one had yet appeared at the front of the alleyway. Henry slipped around the corner. He wondered if he should just retrace his steps and get out of this trap. If Allweather and Timms see me, there's no way I can outrun them, he concluded. Try the doors first. He tried them, one after the other. They wer all locked. He went back and hammered on them with his fists. Nothing! Too much time passing. At any moment they were bound to backtrack and check this alley.

Henry stepped across from the last of the doors, the one closest to the street, and peered into one of the trash bins. He made his decision. He would bury himself under the empty boxes and paper, and wait it out. He grabbed the edge of the bin with both hands and pulled himself up, throwing his right leg up and over. He was hanging in that position when he heard Timms' yell.

He's in here, sir! We've got him!"