Title: Wolf at the Door
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Release: 27 Oct
Cover Artist: L.C. Chase
Blurb:
Sequel to Stone the Crows
A Wolf Winter Novel
Home.
For Jack and Gregor, the exiled Wolf Princes of the Scottish pack, it’s someplace they never wanted to leave. For Danny, who fled as soon as he could, it’s someplace he never planned to return. As for Nick, pathologist and carrion bird, he has nowhere else to be.
It offers only one thing—the Old Man’s help in putting down the bloody-handed treachery from the prophets who dogged them all the way from Durham. The twins’ father is many things, not all of them kind, but not even the prophets would cross him.
But when they finally arrive home, they find the Old Man gone and the prophets’ puppet installed in his place. Outnumbered, bereaved, and haunted by old mistakes, the four of them must discover the prophet Rose’s plan before it’s too late. As the stakes rise and the cold settles into their bones, they find that the old fairy tales hide horrors under their pretty words.
In the Highlands, Fenrir has stirred, and he’s hungry.
The prophets have always said that a Wolf Winter is red as blood—but they never said whose.
Buy Links:
First of all, thank you so much for having me! I’m thrilled to be here with the blog tour for Wolf at the Door, the final book in the Wolf Winter trilogy.
The final book. Wow. I am half-excited and half-maudlin about this. It’s a good book, and a good ending. Or, at least, I think so. Hopefully everyone else will agree. Still, endings. It’s always a bit scary to see them coming.
So, I thought for this final blog tour I’d go back to the beginning and the very first draft of Dog Days with some never before seen extracts.
Extract from the First Draft of Dog Days by TA Moore
(Author’s Note: A version of this made it into the second draft, and it worked better. I still like this though, just Danny’s pure irritation at the world insisting on being more complicated than he wanted it to be and Jack’s amusement at it.)
Pack pet. Half-breed hound. Bitch’s bastard.
How many times did he have to hear it before it sank in? Danny shook the fog of want off irritably and stalked over to his bed, shoving the quilt back.
‘What’s wrong?’ Jack asked.
‘Nothing.’
He toed his sneakers off, kicking them under the bed. He glanced over at the sofa. Jack had propped himself up on one elbow and was watching him with interest.
‘What?’ Danny snapped.
‘You smelled like fucking, now you smell like a fight,’ Jack said, folding himself into a sitting position. He hooked his arms around his knees. ‘What’s wrong.’
The intrusion of it twitched down Danny’s back. There were no secrets when you lived with wolves, they could smell them on and were nosy as paparazzi. Not curious. Curious would have had Jack wondering why Jenny was sick, how Ethan set his traps – he probably wouldn’t, and if he ever did it would be because they mattered to Danny.
‘Keep your nose to yourself,’ he said. He tried to keep the annoyance out of his voice. It wasn’t as if he didn’t do the same thing to people – sniffing out their secrets, their fears and small happinesses. They just thought he was observant. ‘I’m fine.’
Jack snorted. Danny ignored him, flopping fully dressed out on the bed. He dragged a pillow over his head and asked, ‘Since you’re up, blow the candles out.’
He listened for the creaking pad of Jack doing as he was asked. Instead hot breath hit the back of his neck. The wet, eager huff of a predator with its prey in sight. Danny started up from the bed, one arm up to block…nothing. The candles had been snuffed, plunging the room into darkness. The only light squirmed under the curtains, moonshine glittering red in Jack’s eyes and white on the slant of teeth in his smile.
Danny stared at him. He could still feel the wet of breath at the back of his neck, the itch of being under a bigger predator – but he hadn’t heard Jack move. ‘Did you just…Wild out the lights?’
He sounded stupid when he said it. The Wild was the magic of the wolves. Shifting impressed humans, but it was about as magical as walking to the wolves, as natural as breathing or blinking. The Wild was something else, something that couldn’t be quantified. It came from the moon-steeped soul of an old wolf’s soul. The Numitor could hunt wolves in their moon-dreams; Danny’s grandmother could hunt guilt. Jack wasn’t old enough to use the Wild. Even if he was, it wasn’t used to turn out lights.
Jack closed those glittering eyes, but the smile hung around. ‘I’ll huff and I’ll puff and I’ll blow your lights out,’ he said quietly.
‘How?’ Danny asked.
‘Wolves have come down over the wall, the long winter has fallen and I can use the Wild if I will.’ Something bigger than a pure-breed pup down for a run outside his father’s control hung behind his words, something older. ‘I told you, Danny Dog; things have changed, and they’re still changing.’
Jack had let the dark in and the sense it was more than just the lack of light pressed in on Danny. His hackles itched under the nape of his neck.
‘It was just weather,’ Danny said. His voice lacked conviction.
‘And we’re just wolves.’
TA Moore –
TA Moore is a Northern Irish writer of romantic suspense, urban fantasy, and contemporary romance novels. A childhood in a rural, seaside town fostered in her a suspicious nature, a love of mystery, and a streak of black humour a mile wide. As her grandmother always said, ‘she’d laugh at a bad thing that one’, mind you, that was the pot calling the kettle black. TA Moore studied History, Irish mythology, English at University, mostly because she has always loved a good story. She has worked as a journalist, a finance manager, and in the arts sectors before she finally gave in to a lifelong desire to write.
Coffee, Doc Marten boots, and good friends are the essential things in life. Spiders, mayo, and heels are to be avoided.
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