Decadent Publishing has a new shifter series, Black Hills Wolves. Now, readers not new to paranormal romance should recognize most of the names in this multi-author shifter series. If you don't, you should! Here's the first four in order, but I believe there are more on the way.
1. Wolf's Return by Rebecca Royce
2. What a Wolf Wants by Heather Long
3. Black Hills Desperado by D. L. Jackson
4. Wolf's Song by Taryn Kincaid
I am a very lucky lass. Why? I got to read the arc of Wolf's Song.
Yes, I know. You should be jealous. But here's the great news. Wolf's Song releases tomorrow, so if you preorder today, it will appear on your Kindle ready for your reading pleasures on Friday. Now that is magic!
Taryn Kincaid has long since been a favorite paranormal romance author for me, an auto-by author. Why? Her Sleepy Hollow series rocks. I find her unique voice, sharp wit, and the ability to world build awe inspiring.
I'm a proud owner of a paperback of Sleepy Hollow, and trust me when I say I don't own paperbacks unless the stories are very special to me. That's how much I love Taryn's work.
Wolf's Song isn't Sleepy Hollow with spook, snark, and sex, but it is Taryn Kincaid. Her humor and talent to make readers swoon is right here in Wolf's Song. I believe this is her first shifter story, but you'd never guess. A natural, one might say. She breezes through the story with characters to adore, a solid and fulfilling plot, and most importantly, she has embeded her own style of wit and swoon-sexy into this edgy yet very romantic shifter tale. I can't recomend this book or this author enough to you. Recommended for lovers of paranormal romance who love shifting heroes.
Scroll to the bottom of the post for a swoon-a-licous snippet she picked out for y'all. Enjoy the tasty snack, but don't forget the main course!
Ten years ago, visions of death and the babble of lupine voices in his head drove lone wolf Brick Northridge to challenge his cruel and greedy pack Alpha. Beaten by the Alpha’s thugs and banished from the pack, Brick lives a life of seclusion in a mountain cabin in the Black Hills.
Born into a rival clan of feline shifters, skinwalker Summer McCoy, in her guise as a raven, watches Brick from afar, giving him back a reason to live through her sweet songs and special gifts.
But when her clan attempts to tear them apart and threatens the pack that banished Brick so many years before, will their love be strong enough to withstand the forces bent on their destruction?
She did not move, except to lower her raised arm from its frozen position. “Why do you call me that…? Annabel Lee?”
“I don’t have another name.”
“Summer,” she said. “I’m Summer.”
Yeah. Def. When the berries plumped sweetest. “Suits you.” His raging arousal made the words hoarse and jagged. Too harsh for this gentle female. “Turn,” he murmured. “I want to see your face.” A low growl escaped him before he could bite it back. “Your breasts.”
She turned then, slowly through the water, rounding to face him.
He sucked in his breath, his heart slamming against his chest. She was stunning and glorious. The beads of water rolling down her golden body sparkled in the sun. She glistened. All natural. No makeup. No artifice. Everything a female should be. And more. Much more.
Another pheromone cloud engulfed him. Her eyes went large and rounded, as if she guessed she’d zapped him with her hormonal lures, but couldn’t help emitting her sex juice any more than he could. Her nose twitched and she sighed, as if enveloped in a vat of melted chocolate, or whatever the fuck his own mating scent smelled like. He could only hope he gave off an aroma as rich and delicious as she did.
He struggled to control the raw savagery of his attraction and had to tear his eyes from her face. But her breasts…God, her breasts. Full and high, the exact size to fill his large hands, rose tips jutting toward him. He remembered how she’d touched herself, how much he’d wanted to replace her hands with his. Hell. He wanted to bury his face between those breasts, lapping at her, licking and sucking, take each one into his mouth, between his lips, grazing the pointed nipples with his teeth until he tore moans of delight from her.
His throat closed, his tongue swelling, filling his suddenly dry mouth, cutting off his ability to utter either animal sounds or inane words. After a beat or two of silence, she glanced away.
“What do you think?” Not shy exactly. Expectant. An undercurrent of doubt laced her question, as if she could not bear to disappoint him, and did not know what to make of his continued speechlessness.