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Interview with Ayla Hammond from Naomi Clark’s paranormal erotic-romance “SILVER KISS”

Interview with Ayla Hammond from Naomi Clark’s paranormal erotic-romance “SILVER KISS”


by Naomi Clark

Category: Erotica
Add this book on: Goodreads

IG Reads (Iris): Today we’re interviewing Ayla Hammond from Naomi Clark’s paranormal erotic-romance “SILVER KISS”. First can you share your personal specs, what sort of shifters are you?


I’m a werewolf, and my girlfriend Shannon isn’t a shifter at all. She’s just a plain old human – well, actually she’s not plain. She’s beautiful!


IG Reads (Iris): How did the two of you meet?


It’s a bit of a funny story, actually. Shannon is a private investigator and she’d be hired to look into a friend of mine. His wife thought we were having an affair…Not true, but I suppose it did look weird if you didn’t know what was happening. Shannon and I stayed in touch after the case and the rest is history. Very happy history.


IG Reads (Iris): What was one of your favorite experiences that you shared in Silver Kiss?


Well, there are a few…There’s the time I came home after a fight with another werewolf and Shannon nursed me better (with an actual nurse costume). That stands out for me! Shannon would probably say our best !moment was just coming through the whole experience alive. We had some tough moments.


IG Reads (Iris): Tell us a little about the world you exist in.


In our world, werewolves and humans live alongside each other – not always peacefully. We’ve always existed, but it wasn’t until the early 20th century that humans knew about us. Some humans would rather we didn’t exist, and plenty of wolves believe we’re the superior species and that humans are the problem. Me, I try to get along with everyone, but Pack life can be claustrophobic. There are a lot of rules and traditions that don’t always work in the modern world. Try telling that to the alphas though!


IG Reads (Iris): How does your life looks like after what happen in Silver Kiss


Well, it’s a bit messy. Shannon and I had some pretty tense moments and we have a lot of talking to do, to figure out where our relationship goes from here. There’s a lot of political noise going on as well between the Pack and Alpha Humans, the anti-werewolf organisation. Really, I wish we’d never got involved, but now I suppose we have a responsibility to help settle everything.


IG Reads (Iris): We’re looking forward to that and glad you visited with us today.


Thank you! It was great to be here.



by Naomi Clark

Ayla Hammond has come home. After years as a lone wolf in a self-imposed exile she’s rejoining the pack and trying to mend fences with her parents. She’s convinced them to accept her girlfriend, but can a lone wolf change her ways? As if homecoming wasn’t hard enough, Ayla also can’t help getting involved in a missing person case. With pressure to solve the case mounting from the pack alphas, Ayla is starting to question where her loyalties lie – and if a return to the pack she left behind is really what she wants.



Nightfall brought a light snow shower and flakes melted on my skin like cold little kisses as I stretched, preparing for the bone-popping pain of the change. Although the waning moon was obscured by thick snow clouds, I could still feel her energy firing through my blood. I threw my head back and howled as the change took me, relishing the answering howls that echoed through the night. Other wolves, other Pack members, ran tonight and I was one of them again. Despite all my reservations, the glow of that knowledge hadn’t diminished yet.

I padded through the streets, claws clacking on the pavement. To my wolf senses, the night was alive with sounds and scents that were muffled and dull to my human body. I could smell the gravy from the meal I’d just eaten, hear the slam of a back door a few streets away. An owl hooted softly somewhere nearby and a cat yowled in response. As I passed through the estate, a few dogs barked and snarled at their windows, upset by the presence of a werewolf.

I picked up speed as I left the estate and entered the city again.

It was getting late and most people were inside. A few small groups drifted past me, snapping photos with their mobile phones.

Snow dusted my black fur as I paused to sniff a discarded pizza box. A few shreds of pepperoni remained in the box and I gulped them down before moving on. The change burned through a lot of energy, so despite Mum’s massive meal, my stomach was already growling. As a human, I’d have turned my nose up at cold pizza, but as a wolf it was a nice little treat.

I headed west, out of the city and towards the park that bordered Foxglove. I could get a proper run there before reaching home. I could already smell the slightly sickly perfume of the flowers that gave the estate its name and hear the muted yaps of two other wolves rough-housing together. The sound tugged at me, urging me on. I wanted to join in, tussle and wrestle with them.

I found the pair of them a few minutes later as I entered the park. One adult wolf, one younger—a tawny adolescent— chased each other round, snapping and snarling at each other in that kind of play-fighting that verged on real. That drew me up short and I dropped to my belly before they saw me.

My paws crunched in the fresh-fallen snow and I laid my ears back with a whine, no longer sure I wanted to play. The older wolf, a dusky blond, bowled over the younger and clamped his teeth round the other’s throat with a rumbling growl.

There was something different about this wolf. He didn’t smell like Pack, but wildly foreign, an odor that both excited and scared me. I crouched low, ears flat, tail tucked between my legs as I watched. When he released his grip on the younger wolf with a snarl, the cub flopped to the snowy ground, exposing his belly with a whine. The dominant wolf nudged at his flanks, tail held erect in a classic posture of strength and the youngster scrambled back to his feet and shot off into the park with a yelp.

For a second I thought the dominant wolf would chase after him, ignoring me. I stayed low, hoping to avoid notice, but the breeze was going the wrong way, carrying my scent straight to him. He swung his great head straight towards me, hackles high. I held my own submissive position, quivering with a cocktail of nerves and energy. He was a feral, there was no doubt about that. In all my years as a lone wolf, I’d never met a feral. They were almost mythical; werewolves who chose to live as wolves, cutting away their humanity in favor of the wilderness that lurked in us all.

What the hell was one doing in the city limits, bullying a Pack youngster?

About Naomi Clark

Naomi Clark lives in Cambridge and is a mild-mannered office worker by day, but a slightly crazed writer by night. She has a perfectly healthy obsession with giant sea creatures and a preference for vodka-based cocktails. When she’s not writing, Naomi is probably either reading or watching 80s cartoon shows, and sometimes she manages to do all three at once.

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