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BLURB:
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?
EXCERPT:
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.
Taryn is an Olympic caliber athlete egg
roller 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 COFFEE.) Wait. Is that something…sparkly?
Taryn 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, http://dreamvoyagers.blogspot.com where she lives for
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