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.
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?
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 romance.
Visit Taryn at her website http://tarynkincaid.com, or her blog http://dreamvoyagers.blogspot.com, as well as Twitter, Facebook and Goodreads.
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.