Thursday, July 14, 2016



A Black Hills Wolves Matchmaker Story


Riley Morgan, the all-star ace pitcher of the world champion New York Kings, has long hid his secret from his adoring fans and the clamoring metropolitan press. But when Riley is distracted on the mound by a long-distance mate call and the sweet voice from home he couldn't possibly have heard, he suffers a freak, career-ending injury that sends him back to his South Dakota wolf pack to heal.

Stolen from her family along with her twin sister years earlier, Amber Northridge was held prisoner and abused by the crazed former alpha and his henchmen since she was a teen, managing to survive through resourcefulness and wits. Now, at long last the pack has located them and set them free.

Returned home to Los Lobos, Amber recognizes the hunky baseball player she's seen on TV as her mate, but she doubts she can be with any man after all she has suffered.
Can the romantic machinations of Los Lobos' four renowned matchmakers unite the damaged pair?

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Something sloshed into the creek from the nearby falls and briefly splashed about before emerging onto an island of rock—beaver or badger out to play and test the cold spring waters, most likely. Amber jerked her head up, gazing through the filmy curtain of spray, and sucked in a sharp breath.

A man.

Not “a man.” The man. The one she’d seen on the flickering TV screen seven months ago on the day of her rescue. The man who’d fallen to the ground in centerfield, writhing in agony. The man she could not
forget. She rubbed her ring. The amber heated and seemed to glow.

Everything inside her melted.

He seemed blissfully unaware of her, so she gaped her fill. Luna. Such a sinfully handsome naked man, droplets of water glistening like diamonds on his lickable, strokable, sun-kissed skin, his taut muscles bulging and rippling with every movement.

Tendrils of his rich, unique scent wafted across the water, curling around her, into her nose, into her brain, seeping into her body and setting a carnal fire between her legs. Goddess. He smelled delicious—as she’d known he would. She sniffed again. He smelled like summer, like hot sun and freshly mown grass, like the whisper of clean, soothing rain, bringing with it the barest hint of a dangerous thunderstorm. Like Cracker Jacks and cotton candy and roasted peanuts and salted caramel fudge at a state fair…or a baseball game. Not that she’d ever been to either. Still, she could taste him on her tongue, a feast for all her senses.



She wanted to devour him. A tremor ran through her, both excitement and fear. One thing to fantasize about the erotic delights she might share with an imaginary lover, another thing when confronted with a real, living, breathing, flesh-and-blood male. A big, clearly dominant male. When she could hardly bear to touch or be touched, when everything in her readied to flee, how had heated words like “lickable” and “strokable” entered her mind? How had she conjured images of her skimming her hungry lips in delight over his tanned skin, savoring the salty, masculine taste of him?

Amber dipped her hand in her pocket to run her fingers over the features of the small wolf Brick had given her, calling forth its protective powers. Instead, the little stone sculpture fairly buzzed, reflecting her own excitement. Warmth filled her palm. Something hummed and sang within her. She could not be imagining the sizzle of fiery energy coursing through her. Could not be imagining him. The amber ring on her finger lit with an inner fire, radiating light. Her hot blood scorched through her veins.

Her mind told her to run, to leap up and shift and bound away, to escape the solitary confines of the woods invaded by the threat of the strange man.

But her wolf struggled inside her, rebelling and whining at the notion of flight, claws abrading her skin, urging her instead to plunge into the crystal water and twine herself around the man. Amber shook her head and curled her fingers into the grass, willing the motion to ground her to solid earth.

Her wolf howled its displeasure, compelling her to at least remain where she was and watch the naked man—if she refused to run to him, to bask in his proximity and loll in his scrumptious scent. The beast scampered in a confusion of joy and frustration, sensing something nearby that would bring it endless delight and crying in hungry need when she deprived it of the satisfaction it craved.

Amber remained rooted to the spot, unable to tear her gaze from a masculine form as perfect as a sculpture, so beautiful and hunky she wanted to weep.

Well, except for the weird angles of his left hand, the fingers somewhat gnarled and twisted, and the muscles of his thinner left arm not quite as toned and bulging as those of his right.

Water slapped around the wide granite pedestal on which he stood.

As she stared, he went into a windup like the one she’d seen him perform on the TV screen so long ago. He ceased his movement before the throwing action, though, bringing his left arm back to his side with a disgusted shake of his head.Instead, he bent, gathered up a few stones, and skipped them expertly across the creek with his right hand.


His sharp gaze followed the progress of the stones, the splashes they made as they traveled to the other side.

Then he looked up and their gazes met, his eyes locking with hers, his own wintry and dazzling, a mercurial quicksilver freezing her in place like a bee in amber.

Twitter:  @tarynkincaid;

And for a limited time first two Black Hills Wolves books, WOLF'S SONG and ANOTHER CHANCE are on sale for 99 cents!



Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Hunger Moon by Merryn Dexter

Merryn Dexter 

Hunger Moon
Hot Moon Rising #7
By Merryn Dexter
Releasing July 12th 2016 

Publisher: Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
ISBN: 9781683610700
Word Count: 39,100
Cover Art: Mina Carter

A Charming Mask
Troy Lansing, envoy to the Brighton Pack has one mission – to find out everything he can about the new wolf pack living near his father’s territory. He offers the hand of friendship to the Moonlight pack, there’s just one problem. His father isn’t in the business of making friends.

A Stranger with Secrets
Belinda Thomas, omega to the Moonlight Pack is tasked by her alpha to find out the truth behind Troy’s fa├žade. Her omega abilities give her a unique insight into the hearts of other wolves. When she comes face to face with the enigmatic Troy, she doesn’t know what to make of him. Her wolf knows though.

A Forbidden Passion
Bound by secrets, duty and honor, Troy and Bel are drawn to each other, moths to the destructive flames of their passion. They will risk it all for the hunger driving them both.

A Desperate Fight
Can Troy and Bel find a way to save the Moonlight pack from the evil clutches of the Brighton alpha? The final fight for freedom might cost them more than their love; they might have to pay the ultimate price.
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About the Author
Merryn Dexter is a military spouse who, after a varied employment career (from selling sandals to old ladies with bunions to being a health and safety coordinator for a construction company), is thrilled to be pursuing her dream career as a romance writer. She likes The Winchesters, Spike, Hotch, Loki and watching complicated European Noir. Her hobbies include crying at books, crying at movies, crying at tv serials (there’s a theme!) and believes all stories should have a Happy Ending.  

Contact links

Wood creaked to his left, and Troy stilled, lowering his feet down from the porch railing. The heavy shadow of the overhang would conceal his presence. Rand had made a point of telling him he shared the home to the right with his mate but hadn’t mentioned the occupant of the cottage on the opposite side. A pale reflection caught his eye, moonlight shining on light hair. The slender figure moving toward the woods paused and glanced in his direction. Bel.
He was out of his chair before realizing he’d moved; the thick railing around the porch was all that prevented him from striding across the open space toward her. Rain pattered against his skin, mixing with the sheen of sweat coating his chest. If she had turned away, kept moving without acknowledging him, he might not have acted. But he’d never know. Instead, she raised a hand to her throat, drawing his eye to the delicate line of her arm, the expanse of bare skin above the low neckline of her simple dress.
Bending his knees, Troy leaped onto the railing, balancing on his toes in a crouch. She turned her head, glanced toward the woods then back in his direction. The last vestiges of the mask of civility he wore slipped away, and he bared his teeth in a feral grin. Do it, he urged silently.
As though she heard his voiceless plea, Bel spun on her heel and made a break for the trees. Growling low in his throat, he sprang from the railing, hitting the ground at full speed. The clouds overhead burst open, turning the gentle patter of rain into a raging torrent, soaking him to the skin in moments. His feet slipped and slid in the long grass underfoot, but he didn’t slow his pace. Diving between a pair of thick trunks, he ducked beneath long curtains of Spanish moss and passed instantly into full darkness. The tangled canopy overhead masked the worst of the rain. Twigs snapped, warning her of his approach, marking her own desperate flight through the woods. Her scent hung thick in the humid air, a blanket of sunshine and sweetbriar.
A twisted root caught his ankle, sending him sprawling forward. Tucking his shoulder, he rolled with the motion, gaining his footing moments later at the base of a small incline. He stood in the bottom of a natural hollow, a clearing in the trees. Bel was less than twenty feet away, clutching the skirt of her dress high as she scrambled up the other side of the hollow.
“Stop,” he growled, forcing every ounce of command he possessed into the word.
She froze, one foot on the crest of the slope. He stalked across the clearing, watching her shoulders heave as she tried to catch her breath. He knew how she felt. Between the thick summer air and the lust coursing through his veins, he might never breathe normally again. The muscles in her calf twitched where her toes braced for purchase on the incline. He’d never spent much time considering the graceful shape of the back of a woman’s leg before. The curve of muscle narrowing to taper into the rigidity of an Achilles tendon, the pregnant swell of a smooth heel, the arch of her elegant instep.
Pausing at the base of the slight hill, he reached for her leg, traced the lean muscle of her calf. He slid his hand higher, watching it disappear beneath the damp hem of her dress. A soft gasp escaped her lips. Bending his head, he nibbled along the defined edge of her calf muscle, burying his lips into the dimple at the back of her knee.

“Troy!” His name on her lips sounded both a blessing and a curse.