Tuesday, July 4, 2017
Friday, February 3, 2017
DESTINED FOR EACH OTHER by Tina Donahue
DESTINED FOR EACH OTHER
A Wiccan Haus novel
By
Tina Donahue
She’s caught between the para and human
world…he’s always been an outcast.
At the Wiccan Haus, they’ll find each
other and paradise.
As a
crossbreed good fairy, Bliss is tired of goodness, light, and everything that’s
right. Talk about boring. Her human half demands a bad boy. Someone who’ll curl
her hair and toes, while also cherishing her. In other words, the whole
enchilada.
Enter
Fallon. Tall, dark, handsome, and seriously dangerous. No, seriously. He’s a
reaper. Trouble is he’s started to covet human emotions. Longing. Lust. Love.
He needs healing fast to get his head screwed on right and go back to the way
he was.
Bliss
doesn’t agree and is determined to show him another way. Sometimes you have to
break all the rules to find your destiny.
Excerpt:
Of
all the places Fallon wanted to be, the Wiccan Haus wasn’t one of them. Of
course, innumerable problems awaited him off the island he couldn’t escape any
longer. His superior ordered him here to heal or else.
Fallon
couldn’t imagine what new stuff he’d get stuck with that’d be worse than what
he’d known his entire existence.
Dread
dogged him, but he slung his knapsack over his shoulder. Time to get this show
on the road. Then again, maybe not.
Bliss
loitered in the doorway, gaze hopeful, lips parted, her fragrance lingering as
she did. She smelled of the first warm breeze in spring. Air wrapped in
sunshine. Yet her musk conjured visions of decadent nights lost in her carnal
embrace. An enticing paradox.
No
one had to tell him she was a good fairy with a darker, human side. Sin flared
in her gray eyes. Oatmeal-colored freckles sprinkled her small nose and rosy
cheeks. For a fae, her height amazed, but her hair color was the ultimate
giveaway as to her true ancestry, being a crossbreed. The top part was
startling white, the bottom half that grazed her shoulders was pure black. Two
toned like Myron’s, but naturally so.
Bliss
couldn’t hide what she was any more than Fallon could with himself. Beneath his
T-shirt, he bore a mark that revealed his heritage. The seer didn’t have to see
it to know what Fallon was. Humans didn’t either. Eventually and instinctively,
they caught onto the danger he posed for them or their loved ones.
Bliss
hadn’t noticed. Yet.
Her
smile invited—a come-on no sane man could resist. Sugar and spice with loads of
vice. By all the gods in the universe, she was something. Rather than walk, she
glided and wore clothes once popular in the nineteen-sixties: a sheer white
blouse with puffy sleeves and faded blue jeans. She was and wasn’t barefoot,
having tied strings around her slender toes and ankles then decorated them with
silver and crystal hearts. Wickedly cute.
She
should leave.
She
had no business being around him. For her to believe he could deliver anything
but grief, as he had to countless others, was seriously nuts. His outer
appearance and persona attracted her, not the monster inside. The reaper he was
and would always be.
Contrary
to what humans or many paras believed, reapers weren’t skeletal, decked out in
funeral attire, their hair oily and slicked back, skin icy, breath fetid.
Even
the bravest fool would run from someone like that, which made reaping far too
difficult.
TGR,
or The Grim Reaper, Fallon’s boss, came up with a solution. He made his male
and female soldiers attractive so they could easily seduce those whose souls
they sought. Like a moth drawn to a flame or a fly stuck in a spider’s web, the
poor suckers didn’t see anything but good looks and forgot to protect
themselves until it was too late. That’s when Fallon and his fellow reapers
pounced. The mortals still fought, pleaded, and wailed, but by then they didn’t
have a prayer.
About Tina:
Tina is an Amazon and international
bestselling novelist in erotic, paranormal, contemporary and historical romance
for traditional publishers and indie.
Booklist, Publisher’s Weekly, Romantic
Times and numerous online sites have praised her work. Three
of her erotic novels were Readers'
Choice Award winners. Another three were named finalists in the EPIC
competition. One of her erotic contemporary romances was chosen Book of the
Year at the French review site Blue Moon reviews. The Golden Nib Award at Miz
Love Loves Books was created specifically for one of her erotic romances. Two
of her titles received an Award of Merit in the RWA Holt Medallion competition. Another two won second place in the NEC RWA contest
(different years). Tina is featured in the Novel & Short Story Writer’s
Market. Before penning romances, she worked at a major Hollywood production
company in Story Direction.
Kensington Author
Page: http://www.kensingtonbooks.com/author.aspx/24772
Saturday, December 31, 2016
Sunday, December 18, 2016
Listen to IF YOU CAN'T STAND THE HEAT!
IF YOU CAN'T STAND THE HEAT, one of my personal favorites of the books I've written, is now available for your listening pleasure! It's an audiobook!
iTunes: https://geo.itunes.apple.com/us/audiobook/if-you-cant-stand-heat-unabridged/id1187418491?mt=3
Derek Dunne is a Cordon Bleu-trained food critic for the prestigious New York Monitor, whose scathing review of a popular Italian bistro has driven away all but the most loyal neighborhood patrons.
Lucrezia Serafina DiCicco is a clumsy business school drop-out, working as a chef and scrambling to keep her family's restaurant afloat, after her father develops diabetes and is banned from his kitchen for his own good.
Now, with The Monitor folding, Derek is searching for his next career path and longing to get back to his first love—cooking—while Lu is desperate for an influx of cash to save the struggling restaurant…even as her father puts his foot down about non-family employees.
Derek and Lu embark on a marriage of inconvenience to save the restaurant. But can Lu ever really trust the man who nearly destroyed her family, who once noted her initials spelled “LSD,” and her food was like a “bad trip?”
Or will it be their hearts on the chopping block?
You can find an audio sample here:
https://soundcloud.com/
https://soundcloud.com/
Happy listening!
Sunday, September 11, 2016
Friday, September 9, 2016
It's baaaaaaaaack
Amazon: http://amzn.to/2cb0Fe5
https://www.amazon.com/If-You-Cant-Stand-Heat…/…/B01LW8WFPB/
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/books/1121143598
http://www.bookstrand.com/if-you-cant-stand-the-heat-1
https://play.google.com/…/Taryn_Kincaid_If_You_Can_t_Stand_…
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/664340
Derek Dunne is a Cordon Bleu-trained food critic for the prestigious New York Monitor, whose scathing review of a popular Italian bistro has driven away all but the most loyal neighborhood patrons.
Lucrezia Serafina DiCicco is a clumsy business school drop-out, working as a chef and scrambling to keep her family's restaurant afloat, after her father develops diabetes and is banned from his kitchen for his own good.
Now, with The Monitor folding, Derek is searching for his next career path and longing to get back to his first love—cooking—while Lu is desperate for an influx of cash to save the struggling restaurant…even as her father puts his foot down about non-family employees.
Derek and Lu embark on a marriage of inconvenience to save the restaurant. But can Lu ever really trust the man who nearly destroyed her family, who once noted her initials spelled “LSD,” and her food was like a “bad trip?”
Or will it be their hearts on the chopping block?
Thursday, July 14, 2016
AMBER'S ACE!
AMBER'S ACE
A Black Hills Wolves
Matchmaker Story
BLURB:
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?
Amazon US : http://amzn.to/28TJTli
Amazon UK: http://amzn.to/28QRPiO
Amazon CA: http://amzn.to/28VS6V7
All Romance ebooks: http://bit.ly/290U18f
Kobo: http://bit.ly/28Zui2z
Google: http://bit.ly/28UiAoc
iBooks: http://apple.co/28Tkjel
EXCERPT:
Plop.
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.
Lickable?
Strokable?
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.
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.
Lickable?
Strokable?
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.
Plop...plop...plop.
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.
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tarynkincaid1
https://www.pinterest.com/tarynkincaid/
And for a limited time only...my first two Black Hills Wolves books, WOLF'S SONG and ANOTHER CHANCE are on sale for 99 cents!
WOLF'S SONG: http://amzn.to/29GtLP8
ANOTHER CHANCE: http://amzn.to/29ChADC
And for a limited time only...my first two Black Hills Wolves books, WOLF'S SONG and ANOTHER CHANCE are on sale for 99 cents!
WOLF'S SONG: http://amzn.to/29GtLP8
ANOTHER CHANCE: http://amzn.to/29ChADC
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