Check out this awesome new release by Taryn Kincaid. Its the next in the new multi-authored Black Hills Wolves series. I love it.--RR
WOLF’S SONG
A Black Hills Wolves story
By Taryn Kincaid
BLURB:
Ten
years ago, visions of death and the babble of lupine voices in his head, drove
lone wolf Brick Northridge to challenge his cruel and greedy pack alpha. Beaten
by the alpha’s thugs and banished from the pack, Brick lives a life of
seclusion in a mountain cabin in the Black Hills.
Born
into a rival clan of feline shifters, skinwalker Summer McCoy, in her guise as
a raven, watches Brick from afar, giving him back a reason to live through her
sweet songs and special gifts.
But
when her clan attempts to tear them apart and threatens the pack that banished
Brick so many years before, will their love be strong enough to withstand the
forces bent on their destruction?
EXCERPT 1
(G-rated):
Summer McCoy perched in the uppermost
branches of her special Ponderosa pine,
in raven guise, engaging in her
favorite pastime, spying on the
lone wolf chopping wood below. Two days’ worth of
whiskers shadowed his rigid jaw. She
loved when he forgot—or didn’t bother—to shave. Scruffy stubble suited him.
The sun beat down on the
back of his bronzed neck and
shone on his hair, the color of roasted coffee, a shade lighter than the dark shadow that charcoaled his face.
She fluffed
her feathers in anticipation. Take your shirt off, Brick.She’d heard
the giant werebear, Gee, call him that name a decade ago.
He’d made some joke about a wall and the hardness of the male’s head. But Brick
hadn’t laughed back then. Not ever.
He’d fascinated
her from the moment he’d arrived
in the glade, bruised and battered. Once she’d learned his
name, she’d treasured it, taking pleasure
from repeating it often. Secretly, of course. Unwrapping the
syllable frequently to admire its radiance in the privacy of her tree house, the way a
woman wearing pearls against her warm skin enhanced their luminosity and iridescence.
Now, as
if he’d heard her
silent urging, he complied with
her plea, shrugging out of the plaid
flannel and flinging it onto a
tree stump. Her beak
opened as she sucked
in breath. Sweat glistened on his torso, glazing rippling pecs and abs, shoulders
broad enough to span the Badlands.
A huge, incredible specimen of masculinity. Thick biceps
flexed as he wielded the
ax. Her heart beat faster than a hummingbird’s
wings. Heat licked her.
EXCERPT 2:
She did not move,
except to lower her raised arm from its frozen position. “Why do you call me
that…? Annabel Lee?”
“I don’t have
another name.”
“Summer,” she
said. “I’m Summer.”
Yeah. Def. When
the berries plumped sweetest. “Suits you.” His raging arousal made the words hoarse
and jagged. Too harsh for this gentle female. “Turn,” he murmured. “I want to
see your face.” A low growl escaped him before he could bite it back. “Your
breasts.”
She turned then,
slowly through the water, rounding to face him.
He sucked in his
breath, his heart slamming against his chest. She was stunning and glorious.
The beads of water rolling down her golden body sparkled in the sun. She
glistened. All natural. No makeup. No artifice. Everything a female should be.
And more. Much more.
Another pheromone
cloud engulfed him. Her eyes went large and rounded, as if she guessed she’d
zapped him with her hormonal lures, but couldn’t help emitting her sex juice
any more than he could. Her nose twitched and she sighed, as if enveloped in a
vat of melted chocolate, or whatever the fuck his own mating scent smelled
like. He could only hope he gave off an aroma as rich and delicious as she did.
He struggled to
control the raw savagery of his attraction and had to tear his eyes from her
face. But her breasts…God, her breasts. Full and high, the exact size to fill
his large hands, rose tips jutting toward him. He remembered how she’d touched
herself, how much he’d wanted to replace her hands with his. Hell. He wanted to
bury his face between those breasts, lapping at her, licking and sucking, take
each one into his mouth, between his lips, grazing the pointed nipples with his
teeth until he tore moans of delight from her.
His throat closed,
his tongue swelling, filling his suddenly dry mouth, cutting off his ability to
utter either animal sounds or inane words. After a beat or two of silence, she
glanced away.
“What do you
think?” Not shy exactly. Expectant. An undercurrent of doubt laced her
question, as if she could not bear to disappoint him, and did not know what to
make of his continued speechlessness.
“Perfect.” He
rubbed his eyes. “Ah, Christ. You’re perfect.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are to me.”
AUTHOR BIO:
Taryn Kincaid is a former award-winning reporter
and columnist, covering everything from fires and homicides, to corrupt
politicians and hero dogs. Nowadays, she haunts courthouses (in least
paranormal way).
She is the author of the Sleepy Hollow series--LIGHTNING,THUNDER,FROST,HEAT WAVE and IN FROM THE COLD -- sexy paranormal romances for Decadent Publishing's popular 1Night Stand series; BLIZZARD, a short erotic romance for Decadent's The Edge line; HEALING HEARTS, a Regency romance from Carina Press, and SLEEPY HOLLOW DREAMS, an erotic paranormal romance from The Wild Rose Press. Books 1-4 of her Sleepy Hollow series, plus Blizzard, have been compiled in the SLEEPY HOLLOW edition, available in paperback and digital formats.
Coming January 30, 2015, WOLF’S SONG, a sexy paranormal romance for Decadent Publishing's new Black Hills Wolves shifter line. And coming February 24, 2015 from Fated Desires Publishing, IF YOU CAN'T STAND THE HEAT, a contemporary foodie romanceCheck out the fun videos for Thunder, Lightning and Frost.
Visit Taryn at her website http://tarynkincaid.com, or her blog http://dreamvoyagers.blogspot.com, as well as Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads.
AUTHOR LINKS:
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