Frost
by Taryn Kincaid
Releasing today
from Decadent Publishing
BLURB
Dagney Night, a sought-after succubus, is no stranger to blazing hot sex.
But as Valentine’s Day approaches, she longs for something more. When oddly
erotic paintings arrive for display at her art gallery, arousing everyone who
views them, she wonders about the mysterious artist who created the works.
Maxwell Raines, a fire-sex demon, lives a life of solitude and seclusion
behind the walls of his compound at Sleepy Hollow, channeling his lustful
impulses into his art—until his muse deserts him and his temperature rises past
the danger point. He needs sex. Now.
When Madame Evangeline arranges a torrid Valentine’s 1Night Stand for
them, will the flames of their encounter be too hot to handle?
EXCERPT
Dagney followed her sister’s
glance, and her heart flipped like a gymnast unable to nail a vault. Darkness
swathed the gallery with the exception of the lights above or below each of the
paintings. The large man emerging from the shadows held her rapt. Waves of
pure, unadulterated lust smacked her with such force she didn’t even see Lily
and Campbell leave. The blast of raw desire crumpled her to the floor. Her gaze
remained riveted on the tall hunk of ferocious male stalking toward her,
radiating undiluted carnality. He set something carefully on the floor and
grasped her by the elbows, his touch surprisingly gentle when he lifted her to
her feet.
“I’m Maxwell Raines.”
Yeah. No
kidding. Who else could a guy so hot, so studly, possibly be?
She told herself not to
swoon. Ordered herself not to swoon. But, Goddess, that rumbling voice. More
potent than a train barreling over the tracks. And he smelled so good. Sinfully
masculine. A bit of musk, a bite of pine, an essence of dark, smoky nights.
Sexy scents. Reminiscent of tangled satin sheets that had been given a good
work-out.
Her legs turned to rubber,
and she doubted they’d support her on their own. She’d be mortified if he’d
have to scrape her puddled body up again. But he hadn’t yet relaxed his grip.
Could she bullshit her way through the meeting without collapsing? “You’re
late,” she said.
“I’m never late.”
“Well, the party’s over, Mr.
Raines.” She waved a hand around the empty room.
“Depends on your
perspective.”
“You’re big on perspective,
are you?”
“I’m a painter.” A brief
shrug accompanied his blunt words. “Obvious connection.”
“Right. But as you can see,
everyone’s left.”
“You haven’t.” He gazed down
at her, a black brow flaring. “And you’re what I’m here for.”
BIO
Taryn
Kincaid lives in beautiful Bora Bora. Or wishes she did. When she's not
parasailing up and down the Hudson River, taking care of her aging pet walrus,
or volunteering at the local animal shelter [oh, HELL, no], she loves to
arrange her voodoo doll-pin collection and practice chanting. Taryn is dedicated
to eradicating the Kardashians and Honey Boo Boo from the face of the earth,
along with The Bieb and sparkly vampires. At this moment, she is busy adjusting
the tin foil to throw the CIA (Culinary Institute of America) off her trail. She
hangs around a lot on Facebook and Twitter with her trillions of fans and pops
in at Goodreads from time to time. You can catch her on her website, http://tarynkincaid.com, and her blog, where
she lives for comments!
Happy release day, Taryn! Can't wait to read Frost.
ReplyDeleteCate
Thanks, Cate! And hanks so much for having me in! (I somehow got my calendar screwed up!)
ReplyDelete