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Out Today! – Accidental Homecoming by Sabrina York (@sabrina_york)

New York Times bestselling author Sabrina York kicks off her brand-new Stirling Ranch miniseries by asking does blood make you family?

Danny Diem’s life is upended when he inherits a small-town ranch. But learning he has a daughter in need of lifesaving surgery is his biggest shock yet. He’d never gotten over telling his ex Lizzie Michaels that he wasn’t the marrying kind. But her loving strength for their little girl tugs at his heartstrings—and makes him wonder if he’s ready to embrace the role he’s always run from: father.

From Harlequin Special Edition: Believe in love. Overcome obstacles. Find happiness.

READ AN EXCERPT

He broke the silence with four sharp words. “Why are you here?”

“Why don’t you sit down?” She did so herself, sliding into the banquette of his booth—her knees were about to give in, anyway.

He ignored her request. “Why are you here?”

“Danny, this is hard enough, and you’re not making it any easier for me—”

“Oh, I’m not making it easier for you? You’re the one who left me. No warning. Nothing. Just…gone. Poof.”

Irritation bubbled, and though she’d told herself she wouldn’t allow her anger to surface, she couldn’t help snapping, “There was plenty of warning. You weren’t paying attention.”

“Really? I was sure paying attention during our last fight. I remember that pretty clearly.”

“Do you? Do you remember what we fought about?”

His face went blank and he dropped into his seat, where he could face her, but not come too close. As though he were protecting himself from her.

What a laugh. She was the one who needed protecting. He was far too addictive for her own good.

“Why don’t you tell me what you remember?” he suggested.

She sighed. “We’d been talking about the future.”

“Ah, yes.” He settled back into his seat, his expression still mutinous.

“And you freaked out.”

He frowned. “I did not freak out.”

“You made it pretty clear we had no future together.”

“I didn’t say that. I just said I didn’t want marriage.”

“Or kids.”

“And can you blame me? With parents like mine? What kind of father would I be?”

That comment hit her like a blow. Stole her breath. Made her question her own sanity for coming here.

Nothing had changed. Nothing had changed at all.

“And my mother?” he continued harshly. “Did Darla tell you what my mother has done now?”

“She said she skipped bail.”

He barked a bitter laugh. “Skipped bail, then skipped town. But before she disappeared, she cleaned out my bank accounts, and my apartment. She hocked everything I own. Everything I’ve worked for.”

Anger raged in Lizzie’s heart. The woman truly had no moral compass.

“You’re not like your mother.” She’d told him that a thousand times, but too many years raised by that horrible woman had clouded his self-image.

“And then, there’s the father. The man who wanted nothing to do with me. The man who wouldn’t even acknowledge my existence. He certainly didn’t support us.”

“You’re not like him, either.” She hoped…

He shook his head and scrubbed his face with his palms. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Not anymore.” She hated his expression, the resignation and the pain. “So, why are you here?” The question again, this time, whispered.

She might as well just dive in. “I…need your help.”

He frowned again. “What do you want?”

Her heart stuttered. Oh, Lord. Now that the time was here, she didn’t know what to say. Or how to say it. Or anything.

Danny waited, silently, watching her. Then his lips tweaked into a hint of a sad smile. “You’re procrastinating, Lizzie. You never procrastinate unless it’s something bad.”

Her expression must have given something away because he paled.

“Are you okay? Are you sick?”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. And no. It’s not bad. Not bad at all. Well, not all bad. There is some bad, I suppose. But it’s…” She trailed off. She was babbling—she knew she was. It was yet another way she avoided unpleasant topics.

Danny pinned her with a sharp look. “What is it you want to tell me?”

She wrinkled her nose. “About that last fight had—””

“What about it?” His tone was tight, as though the words were bitter on his tongue.

Right. “The one where you told me you didn’t want marriage or children.” She tried not to sound bitter as well, but failed.

“For good reason,” he snapped.

“Right,” she snapped right back. Then she met his gaze as bravely as she could. “Well, I was pregnant.”

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Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B08TCCBR24/

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Apple: https://books.apple.com/us/book/accidental-homecoming/id1549668689?id=1549668689&ign-mpt=uo%3D4

 

Don’t Miss Book 2: Recipe for a Homecoming
https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0917JZHR5
Releases September 28th

 

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Cowboy to Command by Sabrina York (@sabrina_york)

stripped-down-cowboys-banner-ctc-brown

Preorder now on Amazon!

Enter to win the Cowboy to Command Tiara!

COWBOY TO COMMAND

A man with a secret… A woman with a plan

The second sexy, Stripped Down novel from the author of Stud for Hire.

Just south of Fort Worth, Texas, you’ll find a little ranch where the hot, toned cowboys are ready and eager to take it all off and make your naughtiest fantasies come true…

Satisfaction is the name of the game at the Double S Ranch, where the men are more than willing to play. They come from all walks of life, and each has their own reason for dancing for a lady’s pleasure.

A former Navy SEAL, Brandon Stewart started dancing after an injury in the field put him out of commission. The power he commands when a woman’s eyes are locked on him makes Brandon feel like the man he used to be. But when he meets Porsche, Brandon has never felt more stripped bare.

The spirited beauty needs a handsome fake boyfriend to make another man jealous. But Brandon is determined to prove to Porsche that pretending with him is nothing compared to the real thing…

*****

Read an excerpt!

Dougal scampered around them, chasing dust whorls, but Brandon’s attention was on Porsche’s face. He was loath to let her go. “So, did you and Claire come up with any brilliant ideas?” He wasn’t truly interested, but this was as good a ploy as any to keep her here. For a while longer at least.

Porsche threw back her head and laughed. Her eyes sparkled and her parted lips tantalized him. “No. We got distracted.” She leaned closer. “We often do.”

“What distracted you?”

She pinned an innocent look on her face. “Lisa was making profiteroles.”

“What the hell are profiteroles?”

“Choux à la crème,” she said with a wave of her hand.

He laughed. “Still in the dark.”

“Cream puffs.”

Now that he understood. “I should probably go visit the kitchen.”

“Good luck with that. Claire’s in there. We call her Hooverlips.”

“That is hardly kind.”

“Maybe not. But true. She does love to eat.”

Dougal spotted another dust whorl and shot off in yet another direction. The leash wound around their legs and they, perforce drew closer. And damn, he loved the feel of her pressing against his chest and groin, her smile, her laugh as she fell against him.

She gazed up into his eyes and said, “I think we’re trapped.”

“I think so too.” But he could hardly complain. Until she tried to wiggle free.

Then again, he did like the wiggling.

They both laughed as they became even more inextricably entwined and then, all of a sudden, Porsche froze. Her gaze, wide and welcoming, snapped to his. “Oh, kiss me now,” she gushed and his heart thumped. She wrapped her arms around his neck and went up on her tiptoes and pursed her lips.

Though he was hardly disinclined, he was surprised. What had incited this sudden and incongruous passion? He stared at her in shock as his body went on point, hummed, trilled with exhilaration and excitement.

“Hurry,” she said. “He’s watching.”

He’s watching.

Well hell. His mood plummeted. He should have realized. He should have expected as much. He was a fool for thinking she suddenly wanted to kiss him.

He was struck with an immediate anger, and at the same time, a scorching determination.

Kiss her?

He’d give her a kiss she would never forget.

He took her cheeks in his hands and tipped her head a bit to the side and stared at her. “Are you ready?” he asked in a whisper.

She blinked. “I…ah…yes.”

But still, he waited, staring at her lips, so full and lush. He’d waited so long to taste her, the anticipation itself was delicious. Slowly, he lowered his head and he brushed his mouth over hers, a tease and nothing more. Then he did it again.

Good God, she was delectable.  Soft, sweet, a velvety heaven. She tasted of sugar and a hint of chocolate with an undertone of…Porsche. He wanted to sink into her. Consume her.

So he did.

He deepened the kiss, investing in it all his desire, his hope, his passion.

And God help him, she responded.

She tightened her hold and pressed against him and made little mewling sounds that set his body on fire.

He leaned into the kiss, bending her back, grasping for all he could reach.

It became a conflagration, a wild storm swirling them both in a savage whirlwind of gargantuan proportions that was—

“Ahem.”

An annoying voice came from his left. Brandon attempted to ignore it.

“Ahem!”

He lifted his head and stared down into Porsche’s eyes. He was gratified that she seemed dazed and boneless. Really gratified when she reached up for another kiss. And that, of course, set him off again as well. He couldn’t get enough.

Not ever.

“Hello? People? That’s good. You can disengage.” Claire—for that was who it was—attempted to pull them apart.

“But Cody’s watching,” Porsche murmured, snuggling in closer.

“He’s gone.”

To Brandon’s disgruntlement, she eased back, still staring into his eyes. “He’s gone,” she whispered.

“I heard,” he said. But he couldn’t resist one more kiss. Just one.

And damn it all to hell. Why hadn’t Cody stayed just a little longer?
Preorder now on Amazon!

Read more about the Stripped Down Cowboys!

 

STRIPPED DOWN SERIES from SABRINA YORK

Stud for Hire by Sabrina York  08/16/2016

Cowboy to Command by Sabrina York 10/18/2016

Spurred On by Sabrina York  01/17/2017

 

PREQUEL NOVELLAS (AVAILABLE NOW)

The Real McCoy (Prequel #1) 

Come Hell or High Water (Prequel #2)

Protect and Serve–Cowboy Justice (Prequel #3)

*****

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & snarky to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.

Bookshelf! http://sabrinayork.com/books/

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb

Website: http://sabrinayork.com/

Follow my Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/sabrinayork

Like my Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks

Follow me on Twitter @sabrina_york https://twitter.com/sabrina_york

Follow me on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5817917.Sabrina_York

Check out my Pinterest boards: http://www.pinterest.com/sabrinayork/boards/

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Join the conversation on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/SabrinaYorkChatAndContests/

*****

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Out Now! – Stud for Hire by Sabrina York (@sabrina_york)

Stud for HireJust south of Fort Worth, Texas, you’ll find a little ranch where the hot, toned cowboys are ready and eager to take it all off and make your naughtiest fantasies come true…

When her sister plans a wild bachelorette weekend at the Double S Ranch, Hanna Stevens is pretty sure she’ll just grin and bear it while the other women get their fill of hot cowboy strippers. After all, Hanna has never met a man who made her really want.

Zack, Hanna’s future husband, offered to marry her and save her family’s ranch from financial ruin, and while she accepted, it was never what you’d call a passionate affair. But when she locks eyes with Logan, Hanna is suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling she’s always craved and never experienced: Pure. Animal. Desire…

The first in a new series of Stripped Down Cowboys from New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author, Sabrina York

“Sabrina York can write a sexy cowboy like no other!” Susan Stoker, New York Times bestselling author

*****

Read an Excerpt

“Hi.”

Logan’s heart stilled and then shot into a rapid tattoo. He dropped the heavy bale on the ground. It landed with a dull thud and a plume of dust. Slowly, he turned, trying to ignore the shivers running over his skin at that low, sultry voice.

And yeah. There she was, backlit by the sun in the yawning barn door, a tantalizing silhouette.

“Ma’am.”

He tipped back his hat so he could see her better. Wiped the sweat from his brow. Damn, she was beautiful. Her red hair was down, flowing over her shoulders like a rippling stream, teased by the breeze. The buttons of her plaid shirt strained against the curves of her breasts. He loved the way her skinny jeans clung to her legs, disappearing in a pair of well-worn boots.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. The women were supposed to be settling in, dressing for the evening’s festivities. A Hunky Hoedown. Logan was supposed to be preparing for that too—but he’d decided to work off his simmering energy here, in the barn.

He hadn’t really expected her to take him up on his offer and find him here. Never dared hope.

But…here she was.

His knees went a little weak. He tightened his muscles and forced himself to remain where he was, watching her every move. Every breath.

Though he suspected why she’d come, he wasn’t sure. It would be wise to let her make the first move.

God help him.

Because he wanted to pounce.

“So…” She wandered deeper into the barn, pretending to study the tools hanging on the wall. Her fingers drifted over a harness; the sight made a shudder walk through him.  When Gotham poked out a head and sprayed her with a welcoming snort, she patted his snout, but not like a city girl. Not with a tentative pat as though she were afraid he’d bite.

Logan swallowed the pool of drool in his mouth. He’d like to take a bite. Of that.

“So…” she repeated. “Is this a working ranch, or only a weekend bordello?”

Logan stiffened. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was a flirtatious tone. She flicked a look at him, from beneath amber lashes and his gut clenched. Shit. It was.

His heart lurched. His cock swelled. Sudden sweat beaded his brow.

This was Hanna. His Hanna—well, the Hanna of his dreams. The woman he’d wanted forever, the woman who’d never seen him.

And she was flirting. With him.

Inexorably drawn to her, he stepped closer. “Oh. It’s a working ranch.” A low rumble, infused with meaning. Yeah. He’d like to work her. Work her over.

“I see.” She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. It took every ounce of concentration in him to keep his gaze on her face. Oh, it was a fascinating face, but the cleavage her action created was even more mesmerizing.

His brain fizzled and popped at that hint of a shadow. He said the only thing that came to mind—the only thing fit to say, at least. “Cody has over two hundred head.”

“I see. Do you…” Her attention trickled over his bare chest. He was covered in sweat and bits of hay. She didn’t seem to mind. Her lips pursed. Then she licked them. “Do you work here?”

He snorted. “No.” His days working as a cowpoke for Cody were long gone…unless he lost a bet.

“Ah.” Her gaze flicked up to his. The muscle in her cheek tightened. “I didn’t think so.”

The words skimmed over him in a hot rush, her tone, low and woven with implication. His breath hitched at the look in her beautiful eyes.

And then it plunged to his toes.

Because he could tell, from every line of her face, from the way she held her body, from the way she looked at him. She didn’t recognize him.

She had no idea who he was. No idea they’d gone to high school together. No memory of what he’d done, how he’d risked everything for her. And nearly lost.

Nope. She thought he was just a random stripper. Manflesh brought in for the sole purpose of providing pleasure to the lady guests.

On the one hand, that pissed him off.

But on the other hand…hell, she thought he was a stripper.  Probably one willing to make himself available to Cody’s guests should the right offer arise.

A mix of annoyance, need and lust warred within him.

Lust won.

Hanna Stevens, the prim and proper princess of Snake Gully, thought he was a stud for hire. And she wanted him.

This could be fun.

He stepped closer to her, adopting a gait, an attitude he assumed a man of lesser morals might employ. “I’m just here for the weekend, ma’am. Just here to make sure you ladies have a…good time.”

“I-I see.”

“My name is Logan.”

“Hanna.”

Yeah. He knew. He knew her name.

She tipped up her head as he neared. Her eyes went wide. Pupils dilated. Lips parted. Damn, she was a tiny thing. Heat gathered low in his belly. He fought back the urge to yank her into his arms and kiss the shit out of her. “I…ah…and…” She glanced away and then slowly forced her gaze back. “And what would that good time entail…exactly?”

Everything in him stilled.

First, because hell, was she propositioning him?

And second because, hell! She was propositioning him.

“That’s…negotiable.” He hated that his voice cracked on the words. But he really couldn’t help it. It was all he could do to keep control of his raging emotions. Okay. His raging lust. His cock was hard. Tight in his jeans. Thudding with every beat of his heart. And his pulse thrummed like an out of control jackhammer. “W-what do you like?”

He was pretty sure gentlemen of the evening didn’t stutter, but he couldn’t help himself. He held his breath, waiting for her answer. God, he wanted to know. He’d always wanted to know. Ached to know.

She drew her finger along the leather harness dangling from the wall and his cock jerked in sympathetic reaction. “I don’t know. Something…improper.” The look she flicked at him set his soul on fire. A dark wind screamed through him like a violent summer storm on the range.

“I can do improper.” Could he.

She stepped closer. Her scent engulfed him, clouded his brain. Something feminine and light, like powder. She tipped her chin and met his gaze as she set her palm flat on his chest. He nearly winced at the touch. Their first real touch. His muscles bunched at the effort to hold back that involuntary reaction. Her hand was tiny. She was tiny. He wanted to scoop her up, find a nice soft pile of hay and roll her in it. Hard.

Her lashes flickered. “Something…very improper.”

He swallowed. “I can do very improper.”

“Something naughty.” A whisper. As though some deep part of her was not allowed to hear.

“I can do naughty,” he whispered back. “I’m very good at naughty.”

A sizzling energy passed between them. She licked her lips again and this time he saw it for what it was. An invitation.

To take.

What he wanted.

What he’d wanted for years.

Forever.

And he did.

He kissed her.

 

Buy now: Amazon UK | Amazon US

*****

Read more about the Stripped Down Cowboys!

STRIPPED DOWN SERIES from SABRINA YORK

Stud for Hire by Sabrina York  08/16/2016

Cowboy to Command by Sabrina York 10/18/2016

Spurred On by Sabrina York  01/17/2017

 

PREQUEL NOVELLAS (AVAILABLE NOW)

The Real McCoy (Prequel #1) 

Come Hell or High Water (Prequel #2)

Protect and Serve–Cowboy Justice (Prequel #3)

 

*****

About Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & snarky to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.

 

Bookshelf! http://sabrinayork.com/books/

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb

Website: http://sabrinayork.com/

Follow my Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.com/author/sabrinayork

Like my Facebook Author Page https://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks

Follow me on Twitter @sabrina_york https://twitter.com/sabrina_york

Follow me on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5817917.Sabrina_York

Check out my Pinterest boards: http://www.pinterest.com/sabrinayork/boards/

Street Team: https://docs.google.com/forms/d/12s46UGgNUze1c3o3L8jIlXiLuhR5cFZjR83SCMElfw8/viewform?c=0&w=1&usp=mail_form_link

Join the conversation on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/SabrinaYorkChatAndContests/

New magical, fantasy romance…with a twist from Sabrina York (@sabrina_york)

Read on for an exclusive excerpt and a chance to win the Wicked Enchantment Tiara

Wicked EnchantmentWicked Enchantment

By Sabrina York

Consigned to a magical prison, Sir Keeshan has suffered torment after torment for thousands of years. The curse of a powerful Djinn entombed him in the lamp, damning him to an eternity of pleasing the women who come to him—but never grasping true love. Every hundred years or so, a new woman comes to him and they are both are ensnared in a web of dark desire. And then, just as he grows to care for her, she is spirited away, back to the world. Such is the nature of his curse.

But when Aimalee arrives, Keeshan knows something is different. She is different. And his feelings for her are undeniable. He has no idea how long they will have together and, desperate to not waste a second of his time with her, Keeshan cannot help but indulge his every craving…and hers.

When the clever minx helps him solve a mystery that has been haunting him for ages, he can’t help but hope she may be the one to help him break the curse.

Hope is a dangerous thing in enchanted surrounds, especially because he knows her departure, when it comes, will destroy him.

Magical, fantasy romance…with a twist from Sabrina York

READ AN EXCERPT

Aimalee shivered as an unfamiliar inclination struck her. She wanted to drop the pillow and press her body against him. Rub against him. He was so beautiful. So perfect. She longed to touch him.

Of its own volition, her hand rose. At the last instant, just before their flesh connected, she curled her fingers.

He winced as she withdrew, winced as though she’d slapped him. Tiny tears clung to his lashes. “Please, Aimalee.” His voice was ragged. “Please touch me.”

She stepped away, ignoring the desolation sweeping across his countenance. It cost her but she forced those primal urges down, back into her subconscious where they belonged. Something wasn’t right here. Women didn’t just suddenly transport into sumptuous bowers. Gorgeous men with smoldering eyes didn’t simply appear from thin air. And most importantly, Aimalee didn’t have thoughts like this.

She never had.

She couldn’t give in to these cravings. Not until she understood what was happening to her. Her analytical mind would not allow it.

As though he could read her thoughts, a frown marred his sculpted brow in fascinating furrows. He stepped closer and closer still—though not close enough to touch. His breath was warm on her face. “Don’t fight it, Aimalee. You cannot resist. Please don’t try.” He bent closer and his nostrils flared like a stallion catching the scent of a filly in season. He licked his lips.

My but they were beautiful lips.

And my, oh my. He smelled of sandalwood and sin. The combination made her head spin. She desperately attempted to eradicate these errant thoughts. “Where am I? What happened?” More questions swirled but this was a good place to start.

“Please.” Beads of sweat dimpled his upper lip. Heat roiled from his broad chest. Everything about him was hard. “Not now. No questions now.” He whirled away with a growl, showing her his back, frustration clear in every rigid line. As he moved, the dim light glinted off the metal encircling his neck. Aimalee realized it was hewn of the same strange iridescent metal of the lamp.

Certainty dawned and with it a sense of incredulity. “I’m inside the lamp.”

He shot a glance at her over his hunched shoulder, a wounded animal. “Y-you touched it.”

“I’ve touched it many times before.”

“Many times.” A shudder racked him. He began to shiver, to shake. “But never with…never with…” Never with…what? He didn’t complete the thought, as though the words were too painful to utter. He moaned in agony and stumbled into the shadows.

She followed, racked with worry—he looked as though he was dying—and lightly touched his shoulder. He froze at the contact, sucking in a deep gasp of air, exhaling it on a small whimper. As their flesh connected, a sizzle shot up her arm, rocketing to her core. Something tight within her released.

And then she realized…the release hadn’t come from within her.

It had come from within him.

Invisible chains binding him shattered and fell away.

He straightened and stood. Sublime relief descended upon him like a cloud. “Thank you,” he gasped. “Thank you, Aimalee.” He drew his knuckles along the curve of her shoulder then trailed down her arm, sending riots of sensation through her. “You touched it with your bare hands, you see. And the lamp brought you to me,” he said, answering her earlier—long forgotten—question. He caressed her hand, lifted it to his lips then drew her thumb into his mouth and gently sucked.

Molten lava, deep in her core, churned and spat.

She knew she should not allow this. She knew she should pull away. The voice of sanity within her whispered as much. Trouble was, that voice of sanity was starting to recede. “W-why?” It was the only word she could manage. The only thought she could conjure.

He kissed her knuckles, one by one. “You are here for me, Aimalee. For this.” His scalding touch trailed back up her arm. She jerked in reaction but didn’t protest. Her body was heavy, drugged with desire. Her mind befuddled, rapt in it. Enthralled.

He tugged gently at the pillow she held before her. She watched in mute dismay as he tossed her armor carelessly aside. “God, Aimalee. You are even more beautiful in the flesh.”

Reverently, he cupped her breast. And then his head descended and those lips—those delicious lips—wrapped around a coral crest. Sucked. Pleasure rocked her. Exquisite trills danced along her spine. Tremors rippled through her womb.

But still…she resisted. As difficult as it was to fight against the alluring enchantment he was weaving—and it was difficult—she lurched back and gasped, “Who are you?”

Instead of answering, he scraped her nipple—sending spirals of delight coiling up her spine. Oh! It was getting harder and harder to resist him. Harder to focus on her outrage as he enticed her deeper into his web.

But she was not the only one besieged by temptation. His body was taut as a bowstring; he fairly hummed with the tension.

He pulled her into his arms. The shock of his hot skin against hers from chest to groin made her light-headed. He traced the line of her back from her buttocks to her shoulder blades.

“I am sorry, Aimalee,” he murmured, his tone limned with remorse. “But I cannot answer your questions anymore. I cannot wait. It has been far too long.” He lifted her hair and bent to place a gentle kiss on her nape. With his tongue, his velvet, drugging tongue, he traced a strange and sinuous symbol there.

A peculiar warmth blossomed where he’d licked her. It drifted down her arms, across her chest, infused her body and soul. Her nipples tightened. Her body liquefied. A hot rush of arousal seeped from her womb. Her clitoris throbbed and a scorching hunger growled and snapped like a long-caged beast.

She wanted him.

She wanted him like she had never wanted a man before. Savagely.

She ached to fist her fingers in his hair and drag him down on top of her. To take his lips with her own. Suck on his tongue. Consume him. Grind against that magnificent cock until he howled with need. Until he took her. Fucked her. Impaled her.

Her mind reeled with pleasure and passion…and confusion.

What was this?

This was not like her.

Not like her at all.

Hadn’t Carter told her repeatedly that she was frigid?

She had never wanted like this. Ached like this. Needed like this.

“What are you doing to me?” Even to her own ears, the cry was laced with pleasure, desire, delirium. She placed her palm flat on his chest to push him away but at that touch, passion swelled—the passion in her and the passion in him, tangling, twining. His skin was smooth but his hard muscles bunched beneath her touch.

He threw his head back and groaned in ecstasy. Or perhaps agony. Or both.

“I can’t. I need… I want to…” He hissed through his teeth. “But I cannot wait. I cannot.”

Easing her down onto the cushions, he covered her. The sensation of his hot, sweat-dampened skin against hers sent a shock wave through her. He nudged her legs apart. Neared. She writhed beneath him, eager, wanton, lost in wonder. Ravenous for him. Impatient.

He did not make her wait.

Get it now!

AMAZON
Free on Kindle Unlimited

*****

Sabrina_head_logoAbout Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & snarky to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.

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*****

GIVEAWAY!

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Susana and the Scott by Sabrina York (@sabrina_york)

Susana and the ScotBestselling author Sabrina York carries readers back to the wild Scottish Highlands, where the bravest of men surrender to no one-except the boldest of women…

Scotland, 1813.

A SCANDALOUS TEMPTATION
Andrew Lochlannach is famous for his conquests, on and off the battlefield. When a fellow warrior challenges him to a kissing contest, he wastes no time in planting his lips on ninety-nine lovely lasses-an impressive feat of seduction that gets him banished to the hinterlands. Still, Andrew has no regrets about his exploits-especially his embrace with the most beguiling woman he’s ever met…

AN UNDENIABLE PASSION 
With flaming red hair and a temper to match, Susana is not some innocent farmgirl who gives herself over easily to a man, even one as ruggedly handsome as Andrew. The wicked Scot may have won a kiss from the headstrong beauty in a moment of mutual desire, but Susana refuses to be just another one of his conquests. Andrew must convince the fiery lass that even though he is not playing a game, losing her is not an option…

“You can’t go wrong with a Sabrina York story.”-Desiree Holt

*****

READ AN EXCERPT!

Susana was annoyed. There was no doubt about it. The swish of her hips as she led him across the bustling bailey was a dead giveaway, that and the dark glowers she shot over her shoulder. But Andrew couldn’t help but be amused. For one thing, she was damn alluring with she was annoyed.

Hell, she was damn alluring altogether. The curve of her waist alone could drive a man insane, much less that silky tumble of hair. He wanted to wrap it is his fist, wind it around his body. A certain part of his body.

At the thought, his cock rose.

It was difficult to remind himself that he’d vowed to eschew seduction, but try as he might, he couldn’t banish the fantasy of stripping those breeks from her lovely body and laying her down in the heather. Visions of that twitching backside—bare before him—danced in his head.

But he’d made a vow. A sacred vow. And as tempting as she was, he would control his baser urges. He could. Probably.

These thoughts whirled in his head as she led him into the stables, past his men—who were unpacking and seeing to their horses—and through the kennels. Though he was perplexed, Andrew followed. He would probably follow anywhere she led. It was a fact that should have scared him to death or at the very least, concerned him. But it didn’t. However, when she started up a staircase at the very end of the long hall, he had to stop her.

She glared at the hand he set on her arm. He tried to ignore the sizzle that raged through him at their first touch. It was ridiculous how much that touch affected him. And how much he enjoyed her glare.

He edged closer. “Where are we going?” he asked in a purr.

Judging from her frown, his tone irritated her. He rather enjoyed irritating her, he found.

She ripped her arm away and continued up the stairs. He followed and found himself in a narrow loft that ran the length of the kennels. It was dim and a little dusty. Motes danced on the air. The roof was so low he had to duck his head to miss the rafters.

“Your men will stay here,” she said.

Andrew gaped at her. The room was swept clean and empty. A thin shaft of light from the far window illuminated it with a murky light. But the yipping from the kennel and the stench of excrement wafted up from below. For some reason, all thoughts of alluring backsides dissipated. Disbelief gushed through him. “Here?”

She crossed her arms and offered what could only be described as a smirk. “Here.”

He tipped his head to the side. “This is a kennel.”

“I am aware of that.”

“I have twenty-five men.”

“The room is quite large.”

“There are no beds.”

She blew out a breath. “We’ll bring in pallets.”

Andrew blinked. He set his teeth and tried to remain calm. His men were warriors. They did not sleep on pallets. In a kennel. “This will not do.” Surely she saw that. Surely she understood… He caught a glimpse of her smug expression and it dawned on him.

She did. She did understand. She knew damn well what she was doing. Her response only verified his suspicions.

“I’m sorry, but you have descended upon us with no warning whatsoever with a large group of men. I’m afraid this is all we can offer you at this time.” Her smile was deferential, but hardly sincere. The light dancing in her eyes lit a flame in his belly. “Of course, if our accommodations are unacceptable, you can always return to Dunnet…”

Oh, she’d like that, wouldn’t she?

The minx.

Rather than the exasperation her self-satisfied look should have sparked, Andrew found himself filled with another emotion entirely. Anticipation. Exhilaration. The thrill of a challenge.

For that was what she was, Susana Dounreay. A challenge.

And it appeared she reveled in provoking him.

A pity she didn’t understand he was a dangerous man to provoke.

The tumult her presence sparked within him flared again, burning the edges of his resolution; his inconvenient lust blossomed, and with it, an unruly resolve.

He wanted, very badly, to kiss her.  He wanted to wrench her into his arms and cover her sweet mouth with his. He wanted to taste her, consume her, possess her.

And he would.

Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could swear off women. Clearly he wasn’t the kind of man who could keep a vow.

So be it.

Damn to hell his ridiculous vow.

Damn to hell the fact that she was his sister-in-law.

He was going to seduce this vixen, and he would start right now.

Desire, like a snarling, snapping beast, rose within him, and he stepped closer.

 

Susana’s eyes flared as Andrew advanced on her, like a skulking fox that had spotted a plump rabbit. She didn’t mean to retreat, but she had to. She’d seen that expression in his eyes before and she knew what it meant. Something within her howled: Run.

Perhaps it was the expression in his eyes, or the knowledge that she was playing with fire, or the sudden realization that she’d foolishly come here, to this deserted loft with the most dangerous man she’d ever met, but she couldn’t still the urge to whirl and pace to the far end of the room to peer out of the smudged window. She was aware he followed. She felt his presence like a fire in a forge.

Desperation prompted her to continue their conversation, to put some space between them, to raise a shield. “The room is perfectly habitable,” she proclaimed. “And once we have pallets brought in, it will serve you well.”

“Will it?”

His voice was low in her ear, a whisper almost. And far too close. She wanted to turn, to confront him, but she knew, if she did, they would be face to face, perhaps lip to lip and she could not allow that. She could never allow that.

The last time he’d kissed her, it had been her undoing.

A pity he didn’t remember.

“My men willna like being housed with the dogs.” Holy God. Was that his hand on her hip? His thumb tracing her waist? “Nae doubt they will all want to find…other beds to welcome them.”

Susana stilled as his words sank in. The threat was clear. And it was rather horrifying. A horde of randy warriors set loose on the innocent maidens of Dounreay? That his hand had slid over to toy with the small of her back, to tangle in the skeins of her hair, didn’t help.

Her pulse thudded and her knees went weak. She couldn’t have it. She couldn’t have this man touching her. She sucked in a breath and slipped to the side, out of his grasp. When she was far enough away for some measure of safety, she turned to face him, a reproachful look fixed on her face. “Are your men so lacking in discipline?” She hoped her frown, her reproving tone, would bring him to heel. She should have known better.

He grinned and stepped closer. His eyes glinted, as though needling her was an amusing sport. “They are verra disciplined…when their needs are met.”

She crossed her arms, as though that could protect her, and pretended to study the room. Pretended she wasn’t aware of his thrumming presence, his heat, his intent. “Well, I shall hold you responsible for any…improprieties.” She took a step toward the staircase, only a tiny one—surely not an attempt to escape.

He chuckled—chuckled, the bastard—making it clear he recognized her cowardice for what it was. And he paced her.

“They’re all good men. They all volunteered to come with me. Each and every one of them is dedicated to the cause of protecting Reay from the villains who have been plaguing you. However…”

The way he trailed off derailed her retreat. She stilled. Glared at him. “However, what?”

“However, they do have…needs. Surely you can find better lodgings.”

She blew out a breath. “In time.” In time.

In time, he would be gone, God willing.

He stepped toward her again, although nonchalantly, as though he were not chasing her across the room. It occurred to her they were engaged in something of a macabre dance. It set her nerves on edge. She hadn’t realized what a long room this was, or how far it was to the stairs.

“Doona leave it too long.” His smile was heinous. It made all kinds of shivers dance over her skin. “My men are…restless.” She had the chilling sense he was talking about himself.

“I shall…do my best.” Like hell. “And now, if you will excuse me, I have things to do.”

His brow quirked. She tried not to notice what a perfect brow it was. “Ah, but I thought you and I could…talk.”

“Talk?” She didn’t intend to squawk, but she could tell from his predatory stance, a conversation was not the primary urge on his mind. At least, not one with words.

He nodded. Though his features were patently earnest, the sincerity was patently affected. “About the defenses you have in place…so I can decide what needs improvement.”

Aggravation rippled. It displaced her concerns about being here, with him, all alone. Fury did that, she’d often found. Overrode common sense and led one into dangerous waters. Her hands curled into fists. She strode toward him until they were nearly nose to nose. “Nothing needs improvement,” she snapped. They didn’t need him. Or his men. Or his stupid ideas.

“Nonsense. Now that we’re here, we intend to make a statement to Stafford, or whatever miscreants are lurking out there thinking Dounreay is an easy target. But before I set my plans in motion—”

“Your plans?” He already had plans? Och! He was so exasperating.

She barely noticed that he stepped closer…until their chests brushed. He was hard and hot; the touch made her tingle. His voice, low and luring made her tingle as well. His gaze skated over her face, then stalled on her lips. “Let’s meet and discuss—”

Her pulse skittered. “I doona have time to meet with you. Not today.” She took a step back. He followed.

“Nae?” A whisper. And his caress over her shoulder, that was a whisper as well. Like a panicked fawn, Susana eased back again. And again. He matched her, step for step.

She swallowed heavily. “I… You have descended upon us with no warning—”

“My brother sent a letter.”

He was too close. Far too close. She swallowed heavily. “Twenty-five men that now need to be housed and fed. On top of that, I have many other duties that need attending.”

He cocked his head to the side. “Which duties?”

“Many duties.” She frowned and glanced toward the staircase. Ah, lord. It was so far… He was too warm. Too broad. Too alluring. Though she didn’t intend to, she took another step back and—

Oh hell. He’d backed her against the wall. That he couldn’t stand straight in the low-ceilinged room was a small consolation.

“Susana,” he said as he leaned closer. His breath was a tantalizing trail over her face.

An unholy thrill snaked through her. Surely that wasn’t anticipation? Hunger? Need?

She could not allow him to kiss her. She could not—

Her knees nearly melted at the touch of his lips. His warmth, his taste, his scent made her mind whirl. Thank God he had his hands on her waist and was holding her steady, or she might well have collapsed.

It occurred to her that she should push him away, fight him, but she couldn’t. Something, something deep within her resisted. Something deep within her needed him. Needed this.

And ah, it was glorious. As glorious as she remembered.

His lips were soft, gentle, questing as they tested hers and then, with a groan, he pulled her closer, melding their bodies together. He deepened the kiss, sealing his mouth over hers and dancing his tongue over the seam.

She opened to him. She couldn’t resist. He filled her senses with his presence, his heat. With tiny nibbles, sucks and laps, he consumed her, enflamed her. All sanity fled. All logic and resolution and anger flitted away as Andrew tasted her, tempted her.

His hands were not still. They roved over her body from her shoulders, down her arms to her waist. They tangled in her hair and stroked her cheek and chin.

Heat blossomed, skittered through her veins. Her body softened, melted, prepared for him.

She should not have responded the way she did. She should not have pressed against him, rubbed against the hard bulge on his belly. She should not have explored the hard flesh of his back, cupped his nape, raked his silken scalp. She should not have moaned.

Surely all these things would only encourage him.

He lifted his head and stared at her, an odd mixture of befuddlement and awe in his eyes. His tongue peeped out and dabbed at his lips, snagging her attention. Surely she didn’t lean toward him in a mute plea for more.

Was she truly so weak?

Aye. She was.

Available from: Amazon UK | Amazon US

*****

WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING ABOUT SABRINA YORK’S UNTAMED HIGHLANDERS

Bold and steamy—Publisher’s Weekly

A stunning tale from beginning to end—Love, Life and Booklust

Top Pick—Night Owl Reviews

York turns her talent for sizzle to men in kilts—and the women who love them—in her newest sexy romp—RT Magazine

 

Untamed Highlanders Series

Hannah and the Highlander

Susana and the Scot—Coming December 29th

Lana and the Laird—Coming in May 2016

 

Want More Highlanders by Sabrina York?

Laird of her Heart–Highland Time Travel

Tarnished Honor–Waterloo Heroes Romance

*****

Sabrina_head_logoAbout Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates and alerts from Sabrina here: HotSheet Sign Up.

 

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Elite Ghosts by Various Authors

EliteGhosts3D

Blurb:

For more than two years they’ve been ghosts. Nothing but names on empty tombstones. Men and women forced to fade into the background after being pulled from the rubble. Dead Marines saved from a fate worse than death, but ordered to stand down while their lives disappeared all around them.

Some knew it could happen if a mission exploded. Double crossed by more than just Red Wolf. But now is their time to be reborn from the flames of a Phoenix. No longer imprisoned in the shadows. A half-life between them and their future. To make things right coming back to life is their only option.

Loyalty is their salvation but damage is always more than skin deep.

A new hope. A new family. Elite Ghosts.

 

Target: Tungsten by Heather Long

Bradley “Tungsten” Peck. Marine. Lover. Friend. He’s the man who can get anything, find anyone, and accomplish every goal. At least he was, before he lost the only woman who mattered…he won’t stop until he gets her back or she puts a bullet in him.

Zinc’s Heart by Rebecca Royce

Zinc has nothing to prove–and everything to lose.

Lithium’s Rescue by Sabrina York

He will save her…unless she saves him first.

Thallium’s Submission by Anna Alexander

From now on the only orders he will follow are hers.

Nickel’s Wounds by Saranna DeWylde

Hell hath no fury like a Marine who’s lost her way. Beauty was once her currency, but for a woman who can’t feel anything but agony, she has nothing left. Except the vengeance that could destroy the one man whose love could teach her how to save herself.

Titanium’s Sacrifice by Jennifer Kacey

Titanium. Warbucks. Commander. Brother. He is all of those things. And none of them. Giving up everything to save the men and women under his command was easy until it comes to one…last…sacrifice.

Lithium’s Rescue by Sabrina York

He will save her…unless she saves him first.

Michelle Parsons is on the run. She has evidence of a plot that could destroy the country, but in order to stop her boss and his extremist cohorts from taking over the US Senate, she needs to get the information into the right hands. Trouble is, her contact, the only man she trusts, has been neutralized. She’s all alone. No one can help her.

No one, but the Elite Ghosts.

It’s a shame then, that when Benedict Butler—Codename: Lithium—shows up to bring her in from the cold, she doesn’t know if she can trust him or not. And when their relationship evolves into something more…he’s not sure he can trust himself either.

She does something to him, changes him. Heals him, somehow. And in the end, it’s difficult to say who rescued whom.

TeaserLithium

Read an Excerpt of Lithium’s Rescue!

Michelle stared at her phone as the realization that Ralley was watching her every move—had been watching her every move—whipped through her in a howl of horror. She should have known. She should have guessed.

She was well aware of ASTCORP’s capabilities—of the sensitive information they collected and processed…and how they got it. She should have assumed Ralley would keep the same leash on his employees.

The thought of being watched, listened to, spied on infuriated her.

“Fuck you, Ralley,” she snapped, though he had long ago ended the call. Still, she was certain he heard. He had ears everywhere.

The hell she would wait here for someone to come and collect her.

If Ralley knew everything—and she had to assume he did—she’d never walk away from such an encounter.

She went inside and yanked the curtains closed, even though she knew, if Ralley had eyes on her, he’d be using a thermal scan as well. Shutting him out made her feel better. Then she quickly collected her purse, cash stash and a change of underwear—as well as a knife from the kitchen—and headed for the door.

She had no idea where she was going, other than away, but that would make it harder for Ralley to find her. She didn’t have family or friends outside work. No predictable patterns. She’d slip away in the night to the bus station or the train station and hop on the first transport out of town. Wherever it was going, she would—

She froze as the horrifying sound of a lock snicking shot through the silent room.

Her eyes widened. She lifted the knife.

Hell! Why hadn’t she turned off the lights?

The door eased open with an eerie creak. No one stood in the opening, but Michelle knew better. Someone was there. The barrel of a Sig appeared, capped with a long silencer. Michelle sucked in a breath and ducked back against the wall. When a hand emerged, she slashed it with the knife and, when it clattered to the ground, she executed a roundhouse kick into the doorway in the spot she assumed a face might be.

She got it right. Her assailant flew back with a bellow, slamming into the wall in the hallway. She bolted forward through the door, but he rallied quickly and caught her around the waist. With a howl, she kneed him in the crotch and gave him a healthy punch to the kidneys. She knew all the spots where a man was weak. She’d been trained for hand-to-hand combat since birth.

But he was trained too, and he was bigger. Stronger. A stocky, burly sort with a squashed in face and piggy eyes. And speaking of piggy eyes, when he slammed into her, launching them both back into her apartment onto the floor, she gouged at his.

His response was a clout to her cheek.

It stunned her, but only for a moment.

A moment too long.

He captured both her wrists in one hand and pulled a long KA-BAR from its sheath.

The bastard smiled then, revealing a hatred for dentistry. “He wanted you alive, bitch,” he growled in a thickly accented voice. Russian, if she wasn’t mistaken. Funny what little details filtered in when one was about to die. “It wouldn’t be hard to convince him this couldn’t be helped.”

It was disturbing, the way his eyes glinted as he set the blade to her neck, as though slicing it would bring him a great deal of pleasure.

A flicker of movement behind him caught her attention and her gaze shot to the doorway. She didn’t even bother to wince when his compatriot appeared. It was hardly a surprise. These sorts rarely worked alone.

She didn’t know why her focus locked onto the newcomer’s face, why something rose within her, a wail of denial, a wash of regret. Because he was, this second villain, drop dead gorgeous.

In that second, that fleeting moment of time before she died, a great wave of sadness swamped her. In another world, another universe, another dimension, if such things existed, she would want a man like him. He was tall. Broad. Beautiful.

Their gazes clashed and his eyes narrowed. A muscle bunched in his cheek. Something that might have been cold fury rippled over his features.

And then he moved.

To her shock, he grabbed her assailant around the neck with a muscled arm and levered him to his feet. The knife clattered to the floor. The first man howled and flailed, kicking and scratching at the second in a frenzy to be free. He whipped down, throwing the second man over his shoulders and onto the ground—but the beautiful warrior bounded to his feet and faced his foe with a snarl.

They circled each other, there in the foyer of her apartment, each taking the others’ measure. Michelle would have run, but they were blocking the door, damn it all anyway.

She grabbed the knife though, as it was in range, and scuttled back. She needed to be ready to face the victor when this was over. She had no idea why they were fighting over her, no idea who the second man was, but it hardly mattered. She wasn’t leaving with either of them. She didn’t trust anyone.

It was probably completely idiotic that deep down, in the well of her soul, she hoped the handsome man won. Being handsome didn’t make him a good man. In fact, it often meant the opposite.

The two men came together in a bone-crunching rush. The fight was furious. Fists and grunts and pummeling. The dull thuds of flesh on flesh. The crack of bones. The wet retort of splattering flesh.

It quickly became clear, the pig-eyed man didn’t stand a chance.

The warrior, the beast, demolished him with clout after ruthless, savage clout. With one crushing punch, he sent the smaller man teetering back onto the carpet. He didn’t move.

Michelle paid him little mind. She kept her eyes on the victor, the large and looming man with a sinfully beautiful face. Though she held the knife before her, it trembled.

He stared down at the broken man and his lips quirked in what might have been a smile. Or not. He cracked his knuckles and turned his attention to her. His eyes were cold, emotionless. His expression harsh.

“Strip,” he said.

Just that one word.

Strip.

Elite Ghosts Buy Links
AMAZON US – http://amzn.to/1L4YkMY
AMAZON UK – http://amzn.to/1NRk3sN
ARE – https://goo.gl/KlHzRr
KOBO – http://goo.gl/9WguaE
Smashwords – https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/584025

Sabrina_head_logoAbout Sabrina York

Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York, is the New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author of hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy to scorching romance.  Visit her webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates, alerts and giveaway announcements from Sabrina here: http://eepurl.com/bj8tKb.