STEAM HEAT…..Ssssssssssss!

by Taryn Kincaid

Yeah, so I may have mentioned before how easily distracted I am when writing. Other authors talk about the playlists they have, the tunes totally necessarily to their word flow, if not their very existence.

For me, anything with a beat and lyrics has the effect of “Oh, look! Shiny!”

But afterwards? Once I’m done and there’s a title and everything? It’s Earworm City.

After LIGHTNING came out, the  first of my Sleepy Hollow 1Night Stand stories, fellow Decadent author, Cate Peace told me she could not stop hearing The Wanted’s Lightning.  Now, I can’t either.

After THUNDER came out, Heather Bennett gave me a little Facebook concert featuring AC/DC’s anthem, Thunderstruck, with its rousing howls of “THUNDER! THUNDER! THUNDER!”

FROST? BLIZZARD?  Sorry, Max & Dagney. Sorry, Jack & Mandy. Couldn’t find one for you guys. But now...there’s HEAT WAVE, my fourth (and HOTTEST) Sleepy Hollow 1Night Stand, just released on Amazon.

                                        

It’s amazing how many songs out there have “Heat Wave”, “Heat”, or “Hot” somewhere in the title. Earworms  galore!  Everything from Marilyn Monroe’s Heat Wave in There’s No Business Like Show Business (“We’re having a heat wave, a  tropical heat wave/ it isn’t surprisin’ the temperature’s risin’), to Martha &  The Vandellas’ and Linda Ronstadt’s rock, Heat Wave (“It’s like a heat wave, burning in my heart”), to hip-hopper Wiley’s party (Yeah, I’m not  even going to attempt that one. You can click on the video for yourself!) Even Steam Heat from the old Broadway musical, Pajama Game.

I smacked a few of them up on my Facebook Author page and also my Pinterest “videos” board. Here’s Linda (romantic) and Wiley (hilarious).

              

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.

BUY: Amazon

What’s your favorite tune? And why? One random commenter will receive a copy of FROST.

A Bunny Interview with Maxwell Raines

Today we’re chatting with Maxwell Raines, known by his friends as Max, from Frost.

Yeah, well.  My squeeze’s little sister warned me about you. That was quite the snarkfest you and Lily had that time. You remember Lily from LIGHTNING? I’m a good guy, though, yeah?  I’ll try not to set you on fire or anything. If you’re gentle with me.  I’m a lot cooler and mellower since Dag entered the picture. And I got my muse back. True.

What? Warned you. Lily who? Oh that Lily. Took me awhile to recall, but this interview isn’t about that snarky little succubus, it’s all about you today.

Max as I understand, you’re a painter—among other things.

Among other things like…a fire-sex demon? Or a recluse? Or, as Dag might say, “a living, breathing sex god”?

*Smiles and bats lashes*

Flirt away, baby. I’m impervious. My eyes are way redder than yours.  Not like you’re the first.

Buy Frost HERE

I’ve never had an artist and this is quite exciting. I love raw emotion on canvas. I mean, who hasn’t wanted to roll around naked on a wet painting with...um, I digress. Looks pointedly at Max. I’m afraid I’m not very good at this not flirting thing. I was instructed to behave myself this morning. You do understand if I slip a time or two, I can’t help myself. Good behavior and I just don’t get along, you understand, I’m sure. You look like a very naughty boy. Leopard—spots.  *shrugs* Okay, so on to the interview.

So, have you every rolled around naked in edible paint on a blank canvas?

Not yet.  Though I sometimes paint bare-assed. I’ve sometimes got this, um, temperature problem.  Can’t cool down. As for edible paint…I’m old school.  Oil’s generally my thing. Though Dag’s kinda partial to ice wine.  I’m developing a taste for it. I kinda like to paint her sweet flesh with my tongue.

Oh, you are a naughty one. Perhaps a demon-stration is in order? I just so brought a roll of canvas this morning if you are feeling inclined to give it a whirl or two, or three. *digs in bag* I have cherry flavor, tutti-frutti and....

Gimme that.

Hey!  That was not a gift. It was...never mind. *Shakes finger* Don’t make me open up a can of whoop ass on your flaming...self.

Think I’ll just save that for a different time, different place, different succubus. If you get my drift. But thanks for the goodie bag.

*glares* Please tell the audience about the subject matter you paint. What’s your favorite subject?

Now? Dagney. Before that, I pretty much painted anything: landscapes, seascapes, still life scenes. Portraits not so much.  It wasn’t the subject, it was what I did with it.  Ask anyone who’s ever seen a Max Raines. They’re never quite the same after experiencing my work.

How’s your stroke?

Excellent. How’s yours?

No complaints. I hear each artist has their own signature technique. Tell us about yours.

I’d rather let Dag tell you. She’s the expert after all. Owns the Night Gallery.  This is what she thought when she first saw one of my pieces:

The paintings burst from the walls in stunning arrays of swirling color that boggled the mind, the medium the artist used thick and filled with texture. He’d slathered on layer after layer of paint. His bold, aggressive brush strokes exuded masculine sexuality, a strong, darkly erotic force that captivated the beholder.

The sensuality of the work beckoned her nearer, encouraging her to touch the canvas, to feel the suggestive emotion the artist poured into each powerful line and emphatic dab of bristles and oil. The carnal urgency of the artistry reminded her of the quickening pace of a man’s thrusts during intercourse, sure, purposeful, inexorably driving toward release…

But she’d never seen anything to equal these paintings in her life. The canvases in their tempered metal picture frames pulsed with throbbing visual orgasms.

Talkative one, isn’t she? Okaaayyy, let’s move on to a different subject.

So, what was a hot hunk of demon like you doing seeking a dating service? Sorry, I had to ask. That question has been nipping at me since you sat down. Please tell us what led you to seeking Madame Eve’s services.

Yeah, so…it’s kinda embarrassing.  I have to paint or I combust.  If I take a human or demon to bed…they may end up a pile of Opaline Gray ashes in the morning. But my muse deserted me. Desperate times called for desperate measures.  I’d heard rumors about Dagney and her succubus sisters. Thought she might be able to handle what I had to offer.

Well if they can’t take the heat.... Wow, that must have really sucked. I can certainly understand the desperation. What “requirements” did you have in your perfect woman?

That she stay the distance. Turn my red eyes the color of dirty snow. And not incinerate.

Not too long a list. Was she everything you expected?

More. Oh, hell,  yeah.

Why?

I wasn’t expecting anything but more disappointment and despair, to be honest.  Sure wasn’t expecting to find a Valentine of my own.

Okay, I can respect a girl that can take the heat. Let’s move on to the quickies.

Top or bottom?

I always sign my name at the bottom. Lower right.

You really don’t want to play, do you?

T or A?

Tosca or Aida? I’m more of a Stones man, myself. Though I kinda like Springsteen’s “Fire.”

Cherry or tutti-frutti? Or should I say both, since you took the edible paints from me. Hey, you owe me twenty dollars, buddy. That stuff isn’t cheap.

I  mentioned that I paint still lifes, right?

Was that before or after the long-winded review of your work? Wait, wait, here it comes. Did you feel the burn, baby? *Waves hand* Go ahead, flash over, flame boy. I eat demons like you for breakfast, and no fire you can bring will burn me, but I have to admit, it was nice of you to offer earlier. You’re such a tease. Do you have any brothers?

You sound like a girl who really needs to see the Raines Exhibit. Need directions to the Night Gallery?

No, thanks. I’m more about living art. I think we’re done here, you’re obviously smitten with your match, and that’s kind of like a can of demon-off to me. Before you go, please tell the audience what one lucky commenter on the post can win.

Leave a comment for a chance to win your choice of one of Taryn Kincaid's backlist ebooks at Decadent Publishing plus some groovy swag! Don't forget to leave your email address!

Thanks for stopping by today, Max. Come again. Anytime.

 For the tell all exclusive of how Max’s date went,  Buy Frost HERE

I’m off to meet with a sculptor and get my bust done. As I said—living art. I just love sculptors. They’re so good with their hands.

Ciao!