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
Tuesday, July 12, 2016
Hunger Moon by Merryn Dexter
HUNGER MOON
By
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
Blurb
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 façade. 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.
Buy Links
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
Excerpt
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.
Monday, July 4, 2016
Saturday, June 18, 2016
AMBER'S ACE...coming soon!
AMBER'S ACE
By
Taryn Kincaid
A Black Hills Wolves
Matchmaker
Story
Coming July 15
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
Bookstrand: http://bit.ly/28R9A1y
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?
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.
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.
Friday, June 17, 2016
Merryn Dexter's MATING DANCE
MATING DANCE
a Black Hills Wolves Matchmaker story
By Merryn Dexter
By Merryn Dexter
Publisher:
Decadent
Publishing Company, LLC
ISBN:
9781683610489
Word Count:
30,000
Cover Art: Fiona Jayde
Blurb
The Matrons of the Tao Pack are on the hunt,
seeking out unmated couples who would be a perfect match – even if they don’t
know it yet.
Sander Burrows is a wolf with a broken spirit.
Thirty-five years from home and pack, he made a life for himself amongst the
humans. Tragedy and a sense of failure drive him home into the loving arms of
his family.
Aurora ‘Rory’ Hanson hates Sander almost as
much as she loves him. Humiliated at seventeen when he stood her up at the
annual Spring Dance she has lived a life of relative solitude on the fringes of
the pack.
When Sander catches sight and scent of Rory,
feelings run hot. His wolf recognizes his mate and he’ll do just about anything
to overcome Rory’s dislike of him. Even accept the assistance of four
interfering busybodies.
The matrons want the old Spring Dance revived
and what better way to ‘help’ two fated wolves to happiness than to force them
to work together on the organizing committee.
Rory and Sander discover that finding love
doesn’t get any easier even when you’re in your fifties. Misunderstandings, old hurts and the sharp
edge of Miss Kathy’s tongue must all be overcome if two old friends are to
achieve true happiness.
Buy Links
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
Excerpt
Familiar
aqua eyes peered up from beneath scowling brows as he studied the source of the
alluring scent. Wild blonde curls snarled around her head, her curves
emphasized by the simplicity of her clothing, a white T-shirt covered in dirt
and boot-cut jeans. Tiny feet clad in practical sneakers added nothing to her
five foot five height. A warm smile curled his lips as he recognized the little
hellion beneath the womanly guise. “Hey, Rory, it’s great to see you again.”
The
scowl didn’t soften in response to his greeting. If anything, it deepened as
the small woman reared back as though struck. “I’ll see you later, Margie.” The
words were a direct snub, and he moved away from Marjorie, blocking Rory’s path
when she would have retreated.
“Hold
up a minute, honey. I haven’t been back in town five minutes. What can I
possibly have done to upset you?” The restraining hand Marjorie placed on his
arm should have warned him, but the fragrance that was uniquely Rory, fried his
brain. The irrational anger she projected at him added a sharper undertone to
her sweetness and rocked him on his heels. Rory Hanson was all grown up and
Sander’s wolf was very happy about it.
“What
can you have possibly done to upset me? I see age hasn’t lessened your
arrogance, honey.” The sarcasm dripping from her lips made him grin. Far
from being deterred by it, Sander’s natural dominance rose to the challenge of
her glare. He wanted to scoop the scruffy little woman up and turn her over his
knee until all her anger melted into sweet compliance. He stepped closer,
deliberately putting himself within her personal space, knowing she would feel
the heat boiling off his skin. He wanted her to know his scent, yearn for it
the way he suddenly yearned for hers. He wanted to rub all up against her until
forest green and sweet fruit intermingled.
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