Sent into the human realm to retrieve prodigal
princess, Zena Night, Bhyrne Raines is shocked and unprepared for his carnal
reaction to the sexy succubus. In service to the succubus queen, the rugged
enforcer must stifle the instant passion exploding within him. Fulfilling his
royal duty doesn’t allow for quickie dalliances. His biological clock is
ticking, and he begins to enter breedspawn, an intense and unstoppable frenzy
of mating all fire-demon males must endure. But the more he wants to avoid
Zena, the more he’s drawn to her.
Reluctant to give up her carefree life of partying among the mortals when the hot-as-sin Bhyrne comes to fetch her for the queen, Zena uses her succubus wiles to entice him, or at least delay the inevitable trip to the royal court. Once in the demon stronghold, hidden deep within the Catskill mountains, she learns the reason for the summons: she must choose a consort within two days.
Zena needs a mate. Bhyrne needs to mate. With time running out for both of them, they each turn to 1Night Stand. With time running out, can Madame Eve come to the rescue?
Reluctant to give up her carefree life of partying among the mortals when the hot-as-sin Bhyrne comes to fetch her for the queen, Zena uses her succubus wiles to entice him, or at least delay the inevitable trip to the royal court. Once in the demon stronghold, hidden deep within the Catskill mountains, she learns the reason for the summons: she must choose a consort within two days.
Zena needs a mate. Bhyrne needs to mate. With time running out for both of them, they each turn to 1Night Stand. With time running out, can Madame Eve come to the rescue?
HEAT WAVE
1Night Stand, Sleepy Hollow #4
About the Author:
Taryn
Kincaid lives in scenic Somewhere-by-the-Sea. (Go ahead. Try to find it on a
map. If you do, Taryn will send you a smooch. Also a Nutter Butter.) She is an
Olympic caliber athlete in egg rolling contests and spends a great deal of her
time petitioning the U.S.O.C. to introduce a fantail shrimp competition. When
she's not bungee jumping off the Palisades or parasailing up and down the
Hudson River, she devotes her time to caring for her aging pet walrus,
arranging her voodoo doll-pin collection and practicing rhythmic chants. At
this moment, she is busy sweeping up the loose masala chai tea leaves she
spilled all over the kitchen floor. (Probably because she needs Real Coffee.)
Wait. Is that something…sparkly?
Contact Details:
Website:
http://tarynkincaid.com
Twitter: https://twitter.com/TarynKincaid
Enjoy
the following excerpt for HEAT WAVE:
Holy
freeze gun, Batman. The words died before she managed to expose them to air. Her mouth
snapped shut.
One
of the Queen’s guards stood before her, huge and tall, nearly twice the size of
most of the other males in the joint, a hella hunka supernatural male. Clearly
not human, although Hugo Boss’d to his Adam’s apple in an apparent bid to fit
in among the humans trolling for hot sex, illicit drugs, watered-down booze and
loud music. Beneath the fabric of the unstructured designer suit, the toned
muscles of a demonic warrior rolled like tidal waves. Even without the small
lapel pin the uninformed might mistake for the The Rolling Stones’ logo, she’d
recognize him for a captain of the guard. Maybe the Queen’s own Captain.
Hellfire
and cotton candy. Trouble. T-R-O-U-B-L-E.
But,
by the goddess, whattahottie! Despite her certainty that his presence in the club
corridor boded ill for her, the force of her sudden hunger shook her.
Like
lightning.
Thunder.
A
desperate bolt out of the blue.
Instant
connection to him on the paranormal plane, as if he’d wrapped her aura in gold
chains and tugged her to him. But did that fast lane to heaven run one way or
two?
A
grim expression straightened the lines of what otherwise might have been a
generous, sensuous mouth. A military buzz cut had weed-whacked hair the color
of iron. And it didn’t stop there. Without doubt, metal fortified every single
cell in the massive male’s body, pure titanium flowing in his veins. The stern
planes and angles of a hard-edged, swoon-worthy face set grimly as cement.
Though he lounged in the hallway like any Archie or Jughead waiting in line to
discharge his rented beer in a urinal, he exuded authority, his carriage and
bearing such that he made the others look like a pack of Twizzlers. Oh. Yeah.
More than a mere guardsman, she guessed. An enforcer.
Ruh-roh.
No comments:
Post a Comment