UFI welcomes Author Taryn Kincaid. Thanks for Joining us!!
HUG A WEREWOLF TODAY
By Taryn Kincaid
I’m often asked (and you’ve probably seen similar posts/comments on Facebook and other social media sites, this question:
Werewolves or vampires?
My response is always, really? Warm-blooded, scruffy and cuddly? Against cold and undead? No contest!
(Or at least it wasn’t much of a contest before I became acquainted with two particular series in which the vamps are not undead but living creatures, just a sort of different species of creature. But that’s a different story.)
And when asked about a favorite werewolf? That would have to be Alcide from Tru Blood. I mean, have you seen Joe Manganiello? Of course, that was before Joe’s engagement to Sofia Vergara.
I have transferred my loyalties to the hero of WOLF’S SONG, Brick Northridge. He’s suitably scruffy. Suitably damaged. And ripped in a way that would send Joe Manganiello screaming back to the gym!
Here’s a glimpse of Brick as the heroine, Summer McCoy sees him:
Her hair still wet from the cooling dip in the lake, her body naked in the fresh spring air…and yet, she burned. She absolutely burned. For him. And him alone. Brick Northridge. Her wolf. Her big, bad, devastating, and gorgeous lone wolf.
The male she’d so long loved from afar, his coffee-colored hair and his brandy- bright eyes, the grizzled stubble shading his firm jaw. The elusive mischief of his too-rare smile. An explosive tower of warmth and large, powerful muscle. In her arms at last. Kissing her like a totally sexed-up, sex-crazed male possessed. Like a huge, hunky male wolf in his prime.
Like her man.
Doesn’t that make you all shivery and swoony? So which do you choose to keep you all warm and toasty? A hot-blooded shifter? Or a cold-blooded vamp?
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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.
Find Taryn and her books
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Wolf’s SongBlack Hills Wolves #4
US | Canada| UK | Australia | Kobo | iBooks
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:
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.
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.
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