LAURA: I know! Welcome, Taryn!
DEBBIE: Yes, we're tickled you've returned to share the second book in your Sleepy Hollow series with our readers.
LAURA: This one looks as yummy as the first one.
DEBBIE: It does. Hey, Laura...why don't you go get a cup of coffee--
LAURA: WHAT? You're actually suggesting I go get coffee? (lays back of hand to Deb's forehead) You feel all right?
DEBBIE: (slaps Laura's hand away) I'm fine. Now, you gonna go get that coffee or what?
DEBBIE: Whew. Okay, now that she's gone, I'll post Taryn's bio. It's great, but last time we read it, Laura walked around with a tin foil hat for two weeks. I just got it off her and would rather not have a repeat. --Though, it was funny as hell.
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-Book 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, http://dreamvoyagers.blogspot.com where she lives for comments!
LAURA: Okay, I'm back. What'd I miss?
DEBBIE: Not a thing. Wait, what's that on your head?
LAURA: Oh this? (shrugs) While I was at the Keurig, a strange urge to wear my fav hat came over me.
DEBBIE: (holds arm up to face) Hey, move away from the window. The sun is hitting your hat and blinding me!
LAURA: Well, there's a price for fashion.
DEBBIE: (snort) Fashion?
LAURA: Yeah, everyone knows tin foil is the new "in" thing. Everyone's wearing it.
DEBBIE: Suuuure. (slips on sunglasses) Looks like two more weeks of "fashion". Hey, ET called. Said to phone home.
LAURA: What? I just called my mom yesterday.
DEBBIE: Thanks for coming back, Taryn!
LAURA: Yes! Thanks for dropping by! :)
A 1Night Stand Story
Sleepy Hollow – Book 2
Lonely young witch, Veronica Hardwicke, has struggled to get on with her life after the death of the elderly husband who’d left her a fortune and a sprawling estate in mystical Sleepy Hollow. When frightening things go bump in the night on a stormy Fourth of July, who better to call than the sexy developer and contractor, Sean Jones, who's been renovating her mansion for months?
Sean may grace the tabloid pages with a different supermodel on his arm every night, but it's Veronica who drives him nuts. Ignoring his instinct to stay away, he answers her summons.
Will the thundering passion of their 1Night Stand tear down the barriers between them?
Genre: Paranormal erotic romance
Heat level: 4
Word count: 12K
Cover art by Tibbs Designs
Veronica paced back and forth in the grand entry foyer of the Belmont mansion, the kitten heels of her Prada mules clacking on the marble floors.
The rest of the place might not be finished, but she’d insisted on having a few rooms completed, so at least she felt like she was living in a home, rather than a massive, never-ending construction project. Well, her contractor had insisted, even though working around the main entrance and central hallway created more work for him and his crew. But she was forced to admit he was right.
Her cell phone chimed on top of the antique credenza shoved flush against one wall. She leaped for it. Probably Geneviève, to regale her with all the fun she was having in Paris. Or Sean, to advise her he couldn’t make it after all. She sighed and read the text message on the small screen.
Congratulations, Veronica. 1Night Stand has found your date. Have a good time.
With both anxiety and mounting excitement, she stared at the screen and waited. No other info. Outside in the night, thunder boomed. She jumped then laughed at herself.
Ghosts are one thing, but freaking out at the weather now? Cripes, you really do need this date!
She let her imagination run wild, then texted back for more details:
When? Where? Who?
An insistent pounding at the front door jarred her out of her fantasy. She swung the door open on another explosive crack of thunder.
Sean stood on her doorstep, his soaked T-shirt molding sculpted pecs and abs, his drenched hair flattened over his brow. Rain poured down as he fiddled with his iPhone, a bemused expression on his face. Behind him, jagged arrows of lightning tore the dark sky. He glared at the screen, glanced at her in confusion, then back at the screen.
Veronica’s own phone pinged again. Thunder roared. She read the message in disbelief.
You’re looking at him.