Wednesday, November 19, 2014

Add Some Heat To Your Shelves This Holiday Season. Three Authors-- Lisa Fox, Sabrina York, Sidney Bristol- That Will Bring Some Spice To Your Life.

Three authors are participating in this event.  Sidney Bristol brings us the heat with her Romantic Suspense with BDSM Elements title Duty Bound, Book 2 in her Bayou Bound series.  

Lisa Fox is introducing us to her Midnight Kiss Contemporary Romance series with One Kiss and the soon-to-be-released Her Perfect Lips. 

And a Contemporary Erotic Romance series from Sabrina York, her titles Rebound, Dragonfly Kisses, Smoking Holt, Heart of Ash, Devlin’s Dare and Parker’s Passion are all part of the Tryst Island Series. 

Join us in meeting these authors and spice up your shelves (or start your holiday shopping early) with one of these wonderful romances.


Sometimes one kiss can change everything.
One Kiss...


New Year's Eve is supposed to be a night for celebration and new beginnings. For best friends Kat and Dean, it is a nightmare filled with disastrous dates and enraged ex-girlfriends!

Lucky for them, they've got each other to help laugh off the embarrassing, and downright inappropriate, moments. But then midnight rolls around and neither of them have anyone to kiss…

There's no doubt this is a night they will always remember.

The real question is whether it will be a night they want to forget…


Dean climbed into the cab and smiled when he saw Kat. He always smiled when he saw her. She was beautiful. Most people saw some typical, vapid Southern California girl when they looked at her, she embodied it with her light blond hair, cornflower-blue eyes, and smoking beach body, but he knew better. He had seen it the first time she flashed him that dark little smile of hers. Underneath that seemingly tame exterior beat the heart of a brilliant, though somewhat warped, rebel woman and being with her was like being on a perpetual adventure, even when they were sitting on his couch playing video games.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, breathing in her scent, the heady combination of lilac and soap that had a way of stimulating his senses. He pulled back slightly and when their eyes met an electric current zapped his nerve endings, raising the fine hair on his arms. She made some noise, or maybe exhaled a little louder than usual, and his eyes flicked to her glossy red lips, plump and slightly parted, close enough to kiss.

For a heartbeat he considered it. All he had to do was dip his head a centimeter more and his lips would be on hers, her taste in his mouth. A part of him craved the contact, demanded it, but he pushed the temptation aside. It was nothing new. He was always kind of tempted, from the moment they met. But he was with the Congressman’s daughter at the time, and when that ended, there was the Knicks City Dancer, and then, not much later, Marine. He might have gone for it during one of the few occasions when they were both single, but he never quite knew if she would welcome it or not.

Sometimes he thought she might, other times, not so much. He decided long ago that finding out was not worth the risk. She was already his in the best possible ways. He didn’t need to gamble what they shared on one kiss.

Instead, he dropped his gaze to her lap and took her hand, running his fingertips over the tattoo around her wrist, the words, “We’re All Mad Here.” He was with her the night she got it done, holding her other hand while she laughed through the discomfort. Afterward, they’d gone to his rooftop, drank a bottle of Jack, and danced to “Don’t Stop Believin’” until the neighbors complained about the noise. It was one of his best memories.

He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed. She smiled over at him and returned the gesture. And just like that, his entire world was better.

“So, tell me about this guy,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence. Teasing her was one of his favorite activities, and he wasn’t about to let this prime opportunity pass him by. It had nothing to do with the niggling worm that wanted to squirm its way into his heart.

Kat snorted. “I don’t really know that much. He’s Alan’s sister’s massage therapist’s brother.” She waved her hand, dismissing it all. “Something like that.”

A lock of hair dropped in front of her face and she swiped it back behind her ear. “According to Ron, he’s ‘perfect for me,’ whatever that means.” Her hair was messier than she usually wore it, a chaotic tumble of waves that fell around her shoulders and almost looked as if she’d had a good romp in bed. He liked it. 

“You know how Ron and Alan are,” she went on. “Just because they’re happily married, they think everyone should be too.” She smiled, but it looked strained. “I don’t know how they talked me into it.”

“I was wondering that very same thing,” he said. “Are they blackmailing you or something?” 

Getting set up on blind dates was very much not Kat’s style. She was a notorious commitment-phobe and over the years he had known her, she’d had flings, but not much else. Agreeing to a blind date, a match from Ron no less, was completely out of character. 

Ron and Alan were hopeless romantics and because they wanted everyone to find their “soul mates,” they often set up the Sharpe Designs family members with suitable prospects. They were good at it too—three of their matches had turned into marriages. Kat knew what agreeing to a set up like this could mean and he was surprised that she might be considering something more long term. He wondered what changed. And why.

“Or something.” She shook her head and shrugged. “I guess they caught me a weak, horny moment.”

Dean smiled. A very typical Kat response. He tapped her knee, her stockings silky under his fingertips. She could be a hard woman, even cold at times, but her body was always soft, her skin warm and supple. “Guys are for more than just sex, you know.”

“Are they?” Her eyes widened with feigned innocence. “I can’t image what else I would do with one.”

“Oh, I don’t know, we can be handy to have around. We can lift heavy things, get the tops off most jarred products, kill spiders.” He was rapidly running out of examples, and he tried to think of things his dad did that made his mother happy, grasping onto the first thing that came to mind. “Yard work.”


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You have to take a risk to live an adventure.
Her Perfect Lips...


Determined, capable, and primed to rock her first big marketing conference, Stacy Saunders is not about let to anything get in the way of her ambition. It’s been a long time since she’s been in New Orleans, but she has no use for beads or Bourbon Street. She built a strict itinerary for this trip – one that certainly didn’t include running into the gorgeous Tennyson Landry again.

A chance reunion between the former lovers brings old feelings to the surface and the possibility of rekindling old flames. Their second time around could be the best time of all – if they can bridge the gap even wider than the thousand miles between them…


Stacy took a sip of her drink, the sweetness exploding on her tongue. The familiar lightheadedness of intoxication warmed her skull, and she frowned. She might not have the tolerance to take on Mardi Gras anymore, but she was no lightweight either. She held up the plastic cup, the low light reflecting in the funky yellow-green liquid. “What’s in these things?”

Ten gave her that wicked grin again. “Good old-fashioned New Orleans grain alcohol.”

Even as her eyes widened, she had to chuckle. No wonder she was feeling it. The drink in her hand was a one hundred and ninety proof bomb of pure alcohol. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”

“Maybe.” His gaze moved over her, so slowly and thoroughly it almost felt like a physical caress. “Wasn’t that part of your plan?”

Her gaze flicked to his lips and then quickly away. God, she still had it so bad for him. She took a quick sip of her cocktail to try to cool herself down.

He reached over took her hand. “I’ve thought about you.”

Every molecule in the air between them instantly ignited. “Have you?” Heat rushed to her cheeks, her pulse raced in her veins. “What’d you think about?”

He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Do you remember that night?”

“Of course I remember.” She would never forget the night before she left for New York. The night she spent with him. The memory often came to her in the darkest hours, when she was home, alone in her bed. No one had ever held her the way he did, no one’s skin had ever felt quite so good against hers. “I almost missed my plane.”

He traced patterns over the back her hand with his thumb, a delicate caress that made her blood run hot. When he met her eyes again, tension exploded between them, turning her insides liquid.

Her gaze fell back to his lips, and she couldn’t help but remember the taste of his kiss. The way he’d touched her. The texture of his skin. Given the chance to have it all again, she’d start right there at his mouth and then work her way down to his—

“Hey,” Peter said as he and Melanie returned to the table. “Do you want another drink?”

“No,” Stacy said, rising to her feet. This was too much. “I have to get back to the hotel.” And take an ice cold shower.

Ten stood up as well. “I’ll walk with you.”

She waved him off. The last thing she needed was Ten anywhere near her hotel room. That was just too much temptation. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and she wasn’t in New Orleans to get laid. She needed to remember that. “Thanks, but it’s just around the corner.”

“Stacy,” he said, his voice stern, a tone she knew all too well. It was the one he used whenever he thought she was being unreasonable. She’d heard it a lot. “This city is dangerous.”

She couldn’t really argue with that. He was right. The city was dangerous. And it wasn’t smart to walk alone. She knew that all too well. The very first night she moved out of the Loyola dorms and into the Marigny was a night that should have been like any other. But that night, seven murders occurred in a sixteen-hour span. 

Seven different people were killed for seven different reasons in seven different places all within the city limits. She had missed one of those murders by a single block. If she had turned left instead of right… A graveyard chill raced down her back. It wasn’t something she liked to think about. “Okay,” she said, and turned to the others. “Do you guys want to walk back with us?”

They wanted to stay, so Stacy and Ten said their goodbyes and exited the bar. They turned onto Canal, and Ten grabbed her around the waist to keep her from colliding with a Lucky Dog vendor heading into the Quarter for his shift. She wrapped her arm around him, enjoying the heat of his body.


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About Lisa Fox: 

World-renowned neurosurgeon, jet fighter pilot, secret member of American royalty, seducer of legions of beautiful, outrageously sexy angels and demons and vampires and werewolves and the occasional pirate, Lisa Fox has done it all…in her own mind. In reality, she can generally be found at her desk with a cup of coffee close at hand. Or maybe a martini. It really depends on the day.

Feedback, comments, opinions, words of wisdom, chocolate cake and the addresses of super hot men are always appreciated and encouraged. Please feel free to contact me any time.


She’s the woman he sent away.
Duty Bound...


Lisette wouldn’t be back in New Orleans if she didn’t need protection—and who better to turn to than her ex-boyfriend turned Detective? She’s got a closet full of secrets that include a stalker ex and a kinky past. She vows to not dream about Mathieu…much. If only he were a Dominant, one who would not just flog her into bliss, but love her as well. A girl can dream, can’t she?

He was her first love.

Mathieu wants nothing to do with another damsel in distress, but he can’t say no when the little blonde woman walks back into his life with proof her ex is big trouble. He’ll give her a place to sleep, but nothing more. His heart is locked up tight. Except, Lisette uncovers his past in the BDSM world and she’s never backed down from a challenge. He can handle her, can’t he?

Lisette and Mathieu embark on a relationship that is strictly about sexual gratification, but evolves into more. When the bodies align, the hearts entwine. Except their rekindled flame is in danger. Lisette’s ex has found his prey, and he’s not afraid of taking a life.


Officer Mathieu Mouton sat at one of the four-top tables along the windows of Café Du Monde and gazed out at the darkening city, a sense of foreboding deep in his gut. The glitz and glitter of New Orleans stared back at him, like a young woman hungry for her beau. If it wasn’t for his sister, Mathieu would have been at home flipping through the channels, scratching his dog, Gator’s head, trying to put another week behind him.
Instead, he checked his phone again.

She needs your help, Mathieu.

He grimaced at the echo of his sister’s words as she’d cornered him in their mamma’s kitchen after the weekly family dinner. Damsels in distress were a dime a dozen in New Orleans and getting entangled in a charity project was not on his to do list. But no one said no to Lola. Not even grandmère. If Lola wasn’t poised to take over the Assistant District Attorney spot opening up in the spring, grandmère would have made Lola a voodoo queen. It ran in their family since grandmère’s grandmère.

The coffee in his cup was cold, the beignet untouched.

If this broad didn’t show up in the next...

The café door opened and a bell chimed. A woman wearing a cherry red coat that covered her from knee to chin stepped in and shook the chill from her body. She carried a backpack that was stuffed until the seams strained.

Mathieu sat forward, propping his elbows on the table as he studied the patron.

She turned, honey blonde hair streaked with golden brown flipping over her shoulder as she surveyed the room. Her eyes snagged on him immediately and he sucked in a deep breath.

“C'est sa couillion.” He was a raving lunatic.

No wonder Lola hadn’t told him the name of the woman he was meeting. She started toward him. Even Mathieu could feel the cosmic pull between their two bodies. It’s what had drawn him to her all those years ago—and was the reason he’d left.


“Lisette Babineaux, haven’t seen you in a minute,” he drawled, rising to shake her hand.

Tricky, Lola. Real tricky.

Lisette’s gaze flicked from his hand to his face before she put her small palm against his. Her skin was still soft and her nails were chipped, but painted with a pale pink polish. Despite the good quality of her clothing, it was dirty and worn. That didn’t make sense. The Babineaux family was well off, and their little princess had never wanted for anything. But a lot changed in the years since he’d left her. He wasn’t the same boy he’d been back then.

She’d always been delicate, refined, as if she’d stepped out of a painting of some debutant ball. Too fragile for a man with his dark tastes, but he’d hungered after her regardless. In his inexperience, he’d thought he could be a different man for her, one who didn’t crave bondage with his women. He’d been wrong.

A handful of years hadn’t changed her appearance all that much. Her hair was shorter, her eyes just as green, and the smattering of freckles preserved the air of youth about her, but there was a wariness to her that was new.

“I know. It’s good to see you.”  She unbuttoned her coat and draped it over the back of her chair. Under the coat she wore a long-sleeved black shirt and jeans. Nothing too flashy, but it had never been her clothes that drew the attention.


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Author Bio:

Sidney Bristol: 

It can never be said that Sidney Bristol has had a ‘normal’ life.  She is a recovering roller derby queen, former missionary, and tattoo addict.

She grew up in a motor-home on the US highways (with an occasional jaunt into Canada and Mexico), traveling the rodeo circuit with her parents. 

Sidney has lived abroad in both Russia and Thailand, working with children and teenagers. She now lives in Texas where she splits her time between a job she loves, writing, reading and belly dancing.



Kristi Cross has had the hots for her friend, Cameron Jackson as long as she can remember, but she knows she’s not his type. She’s nothing like the women he dates. So when he suggests they play for a kiss over a game of Hearts, Kristi can’t resist. Even if she loses, she wins. Because she’s finally going to taste him.

Of course, one kiss can quickly become something altogether steamier, especially when both parties are on the rebound…


Cam nodded and dealt the cards. They were halfway through the first hand when he broke the silence.

“I can’t remember a time when we were both single.”

“What?” Thank God she hadn’t just taken a sip of beer—she would have spewed it across the table for sure. 

“Think about it. Since the day we met, one of us was always in a relationship.”

Usually him.

She didn’t respond. She didn’t know what to say.

He winced as he took a trick. “I just think it’s interesting. That’s all.”

“What’s… interesting?” It took everything in her not to mangle her cards.

“You know. That we’re both available. Both here. Alone.”

Oh. Yeah.

All uncertainty wafted away. That was definitely interest simmering in those steely blue orbs.

Kristi’s heart went into rapid fire mode. Her breath hitched. Heat lashed through her body.

“I…ah… W-what’s your p-point?” She tried to act all blasé, but the stuttering probably ruined it.

He grinned at her, investing his expression with an extremely seductive thread. “I was thinking we could play…for something.”


“A kiss, maybe?”

Brain freeze. Oh yeah. Every thought fled. Every rational cogent inkling spun out of reach. She could only feel. Stare at him in shock. Ache for him. 

His tongue came out, dabbing at his lips. She fixated on it, imagining that tongue, what it could do. The havoc it could cause in various parts of her trembling body—

“A kiss?” A squeak. “We’ve never k-kissed before.”

He leaned closer. His voice dropped an octave. “I’m aware of that.”

“But-but… I thought… We’re just f-friends.”

He studied her over his cards, stroking them slowly. “Are you saying you don’t want to kiss me, Kristi?”

“I… No! I just… We’ve always… It’s probably…”

Amusement—twined with certainty—softened his intensity. “What are you trying to say, Kristi?”

She meticulously rearranged her cards. “I just… I didn’t think you found me attractive. That’s all.”

He boggled. “Are you crazy? You’re gorgeous.”

A little thrill flickered up her spine. “I’m not.” She ignored his frown at that, and plowed on with her reasoning. “Besides, in all these years, none of us… well, none of us have.”

“Lane and Lucy did.”

She snorted. “And look how well that worked out.”

He drew in a breath. “I’m suggesting a kiss, Kristi. Just a kiss. Be honest. Haven’t you ever wondered what it could be like between us?”

A hot tide crawled up her cheeks. Oh, he didn’t miss it. He couldn’t. Her face was neon red. Like a well-cooked lobster.

His features tightened. A muscle ticked in his cheek. “You have. Haven’t you? Imagined it?” The hint, the thread of uncertainty in his tone struck her to the core.

He was uncertain? He was nervous? Holy Hannah.

“I…” She plucked at the label on her beer again. It was becoming quite mangled. “Maybe.” A whisper.

“Well. So have I. Often.”

She gaped at him. “Often?”

“Very often.”



“Carmen was perfect.”

“She was.” Her heart dipped at that. “But when she smiled?”


“She didn’t smile with her whole face. Not the way you do. She didn’t embrace life. She just kind of clung to the edges. You toss yourself in.” He fondled the neck of his bottle. “It’s an attractive quality, Kris. A man can’t help wondering…”

“Wondering what?”

“If you make love that way too.”

Ooh. Those words skimmed over the air between them, smooth and silky and oh so seductive.

Not that he needed to seduce her. 

Hell, all he had to do was breathe and she wanted him. Still…

“Are you drunk?”

He grinned. “Not in the slightest.”

“This is probably a bad idea.”

His smile broadened.

“Cam, we’re both on the rebound.”

He shifted, as though something was making his position uncomfortable. “Sometimes you score the winning point off a rebound.”

“A basketball analogy? Really?” He knew she was a football fan.

“If the shoe fits.” He reached across the table and took her hand in his. His heat enveloped her, sank in and made her want to weep. She could only imagine how good he would feel touching her all over. Pressing her down into a soft mattress. Entering her in a hard, hot thrust…

Yeah. She could imagine it. So well, her body was already preparing for it. A slick dampness eased between her legs. Her nipples pebbled. Her womb clenched in hunger.

“What would the others think?”

“Why would we tell them?” His smile was far too charming. “It’s only a kiss.”

“One kiss?”

“Yeah. One kiss. A forfeit. If you win the hand, I kiss you. If I win, you kiss me.”

She glanced at his lips. Strong. Powerful. Perfectly formed. She’d wanted to feel them, taste them, have them since the day they’d met. Why was she dithering? What was she afraid of?

Well, other than heartbreak.

But she’d long ago learned that heartbreak could come whether you were careful or reckless.

Might as well be reckless.

She would rather enjoy a sliver of decadent fudgy brownie than suffer through a lifetime of dusty rice cakes.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”

He stared at her. The tension between them mounted, hummed. His Adam’s apple made the slow journey up and back down his throat. Then he picked up the cards, shuffled once and quickly dealt out a new hand.

Kristi’s pulse raced. Her mind whirled. Her body trembled.

She was going to do it. After all these years.

She was going to kiss Cam Jackson.


He tossed out a card. 

She wrinkled her nose—damn, she was cute when she wrinkled her nose. “Really, Cam?”

“Huh? What?”

“That’s your lead? The queen of spades?”


“Are you trying to shoot the moon? Because I already took a point.”

“Just play.” She shook her head and underplayed the queen. He ate a whopping thirteen points. And then he led with the jack of diamonds. She took it with her ace and then went on to win the hand.

He really wasn’t paying attention. He was busy planning his assault. If he lost the game, he got to kiss her. And he wanted to kiss her. In fact, the desire, the need to orchestrate the entire clinch bubbled deep in his gut.

He dealt again, trying not to glance at the clock. This should be the last hand if he played his cards right. Or wrong, as the case may be.

And yes. She won. Easily. In fact, she spanked him.

Although he didn’t let his mind linger on that image. It was far too distracting.

Instead, he leaped to his feet so quickly his chair toppled over. He ignored it—and her little ‘eep’—and came around the table in a rush to yank her into his arms and…yes! Yes. The feel of her, molded against him, was delicious. He’d known it would be.

The scent of her shampoo, or her perfume, or just Kristi, enticed him. He drew it in, savoring the moment, the knife’s edge of intense anticipation. 

“You won,” he murmured, gazing down into her wide hazel eyes. “Now I have to kiss you.”

Her lashes fluttered. Her lips pursed. She wiggled a little against him and his cock stirred. “You have to? Well, isn’t that just—”

 She didn’t finish. Whatever she’d been about to say never made it out of her mouth because he took her then. He dipped his head and settled his lips over hers and ate the words, consumed them. A thrill shot through his solar plexus at the contact. Warm, supple, sweet. Fragrant.

He surprised her by diving in like that. She went a little stiff, but it didn’t take long for her to relax and respond.

And hell. Did she respond. Did she ever.

The kiss, which he’d intended to be slow and provocative, quickly raged into something else altogether. And when she uttered a throaty moan and her tongue peeped out to touch his, he nearly lost his mind.

He changed the angle of his head and deepened the kiss, holding her in place with one hand to her chin. The other roved. 

God, she was amazing. He drew his palm over the flare of her hips. It dipped in at her waist and then rose up her ribcage. He nearly passed out when he skimmed the underside of her breast. Nearly passed out because all the blood in his brain shot straight to his cock. His whole body thrummed with every beat of his heart.

He cupped her and she made another charming little noise. When he scraped a thumb over her nipple, she whimpered.  

He longed to suck it. Draw it into his mouth and nibble and nip. Make her thrash. 

He lifted her up onto the table and when she started to protest, he shifted his attention to her neck, nuzzling her there, right behind her earlobe. She gasped and garbled a word that might have been “more” and dug her nails into his shoulders. 

He loved that as he drew her higher, teased her to a fever pitch, her responses became like his—feral. 

He’d known she’d be like this in her passion. Wild. Unrestrained. Demanding. He loved it. Fucking loved it…but he wanted, needed, more.

He fumbled with the buttons on her blouse.

His euphoria tumbled into the dark abyss when she stopped him. He pulled back to look at her, although pulling back was the last damned thing he wanted right now. Fortunately, a tiny chunk of his brain was still functioning. It reminded him he’d been raised to be a gentleman.

He could go for the jugular again. He could renew his attack on the sensitive spot he’d found, the one at the base of her neck that made her warble and squirm and arch into his cock with a mind-bending pressure. He could make her forget whatever stupid objection she was about to present. 

But he wanted more than a mindless fuck with Kristi.

He wanted a lot more.

“What is it?” he asked. And damn, his voice was rough. He barely got the words out.

“You–you said one kiss.”

“I wasn’t done yet.”


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A Scorching Obsession, A Desperate Hope
Dragonfly Kisses...


Dylan Deveney has no interest in a wild fling. He simply wants a quiet place where he can try to forget a painful past and, barring that, drink himself to death. But when he catches a glimpse of his exquisite neighbor--in the buff--his passion for life reignites.

Cassie French can't resist Dylan's allure. From his scruffy beard to his earring to his intriguing
dragonfly tattoo, she's crazy about him. And sex between them is scorching. It all seems perfect...until a tragedy from Dylan's past threatens to ruin everything.


When they finished eating and bantering, a crackling silence fell. Cassie licked her finger and blotted up her crumbs. “Well,” she said. “I should probably be going.” She moved to stand.


One word, sharp, with a tinge of panic, froze her in place. She glanced at him.

“Please stay. I’ve…enjoyed talking to you.”

She forced a smile. “Lucy will be worried.”

“About me?”

She laughed. “About me. Poaching. We have rules about poaching, you see.”

“Poaching only counts on things you own. Lucy doesn’t own me.”

Cassie cleared her throat. “She wants to. And she has dibbs.”

He snorted a laugh. “Sounds like third grade. And, by the way, I thought Bella had dibbs.”

“They’re dueling over you.”

His expression sobered. “Do I get a say in this?”  

She tipped her head to the side. “Have you met them? They can be rather…adamant.”

“So can I. When I want something.”

Her heart flipped. “You, ah, want something?”

“You know I do.”

Holy heaven. His gaze was steamy. It left no doubt about exactly what he wanted. But she had to ask. “W-what?”

He stood, balancing on one foot. “Come here.”

The thread of command, of yearning, in his tone snared her. She couldn’t ignore it. She rounded the table and looked up at him. This close, he was even more mesmerizing. And he smelled…he smelled delicious. His cologne teased her nostrils. Musky and woodsy and manly.

She stilled as he threaded his fingers through her hair and cupped her cheeks. And then his head descended.

His lips brushed hers. Just a soft, sweet buss, but it held a skein of promise, a hint of hunger and a tinge of desperation. 

At her moan, he deepened the kiss, opening his mouth, pressing against her, consuming her. His taste, his essence, flooded her. Desire, wild and wanton, lashed her. Unbidden, a moan rose in her throat. He took it, swallowed it, gave it back.

He pulled her closer, flush against him. His body was hard and hot. Demanding. A trill of excitement rippled through her as she nudged the thick wedge of his erection. 

Oh, she shouldn’t be doing this, kissing, consuming a man she barely knew like a lust-crazed wanton, but she couldn’t stop. And she kind of was. A lust-crazed wanton.

Something about this man curled around her sanity, her core, and sank in with needy claws. She’d kissed a lot of men in her life. But never a kiss like this.

He slanted his lips and took her from a new direction, molding his mouth over hers, teasing, nibbling, licking. She shuddered as his tongue dipped in. She met it with her own, then, unable to resist, gently sucked.

He reared back and stared at her. His eyes were rimmed with red, burned with desire. 

“God, Cassie,” he groaned, but didn’t finish the thought. As though he couldn’t resist, he kissed her again, but this time with a fiercer passion, one that made her muscles lock, her heart thud, her body melt.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, stroked his hair, then scored his scalp in a rake of need. 

His fingers began to rove over her back, up to her nape, down her flank. He squeezed her buttocks. The pressure sent shudders through her.

And then, as he held her tight with one hand, the other skated to her breast, gauging her reaction as he gently cupped her. When she didn’t resist, when she wriggled impatiently in his embrace, he swept a thumb over her nipple.

Her body seized. Rivulets of pleasure washed through her, sending pings of absolute delight straight to her tingling clit. She couldn’t help it. She ground that nub against his hardness.
He growled.

Like the Highlander he was, he growled.

STEAMY Excerpt

Yeah. He was hard again, already, but this would be a slow, sweet fuck. He would make her howl and beg and thrash before he took her. Before he buried himself in her.

He eased her onto the bed and kissed his way down her neck and over her collarbone. 

He loved a beautifully shaped collarbone. Hers was fine and exquisitely arched. He lapped at the little hollows, sucking and nipping as he nimbly unbuttoned her blouse. It spoke to her elegance and style, that blouse, but damn, it had a lot of buttons.

When he finished the interminable row, he spread the lapels and gazed down at Cassie, well, at her breasts, encased in a lacy bra. His breath hitched. His pulse throbbed. Reverently he cupped her. Thumbed the two rigid peaks.

She wriggled restlessly.

“Do you like this?” he asked.

“Yes.” A breath. A sigh.

He dipped his head and took one tip in his mouth, enrobing her in his heat. Sucking gently with rhythmic tugs. God, he wanted to do that skin to skin. He wanted to taste her. 

But he was determined to take his time. To ratchet up her pleasure. So he didn’t rip off her bra as he wanted to do. Instead, he nuzzled the other nipple and slowly eased his hand down to the snap of her jeans.

“Dylan, Jesus.” She growled and pulled away. His gut clenched. But only for a second, because she pulled away to rip off her jeans and toss them onto the floor. Where they belonged.

The bra followed. 

His breath hitched at the beauty she revealed. 

Perfect, creamy mounds crested by tantalizing brown nipples. 

He was drawn to them like a bee to nectar. 

He lapped, curling his tongue around one turgid peak, and then the other. Sipping, sucking, feasting until she fisted her fingers in his hair and arched into him and whimpered. 

Only then, did he continue his exploration.

And ah, was there a bounty to explore!

The skin on her abdomen was velvety smooth. His caress roved impatiently, loving the little goose bumps rising at his touch. Over her ribs, down a gentle slope to her flat belly, over to the curve of her hips. And then, finally, as though he had been thinking of anything else, to the juncture of her thighs.

Her heat met him.

He lifted his head and found her gaze as he cupped her mound. She shivered. “Dylan.” She mouthed his name. A wordless plea. 

He responded. Because he knew. He knew what she wanted. And he wanted it too.

He slipped beneath the band of her delightfully innocent white cotton panties and traced her crease. Just traced it.

Her animalistic growl rumbled around him.

“You like this?” The words stuck in his throat. He felt like a schoolboy on an illicit date. Excited and worried and horny as hell.

“More.” A groan. “More.”

Watching her expression like the predator he was, he delved deeper between her steamy folds. Nudged her clit. Teased the tip. She hissed in a breath and threw back her head. He circled her. Her thighs spread wider. Hips pumped with impatient demand.

But still, he teased her, reveling in the warm cream coating her slit.

He chuckled when she pushed him away, sat up and ripped her panties off.

He didn’t even notice where they fell. Didn’t care. Because now she lay bare before him. 


Something shifted inside him. The sweet, patient man, determined to tease and delight her, faded. What rose up in his place was a beast. A hungry, snarling beast driven by the urge to have her, possess her, fuck her.

He wrenched her thighs apart, baring her core. Her scent, arousal and heat wafted toward him, enflaming him. His heart battered his chest in a manic tattoo. 

He couldn’t help it. He buried his face in her crotch. Breathing her in. Tasting her. Consuming her. She squealed a little at the ferocity of his attack, but she spread her legs wider and, after a minute, began pushing up, mutely demanding more and more.

So he gave it to her.


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A Simmering Attraction, An Irresistible Challenge
Smoking Holt...


Bella Cross has had a thing for Holt Lamm since college, but his scorching dominant energy scares her to death. And his list of conquests annoys her. But when Holt catches her smoking, and
offers her something else to fixate on--if only for a night--she simply cannot resist.

Before long, they are both lost in an erotic exploration that will last longer than one night. Perhaps

Sexy Excerpt 

She pulled away and gazed at him, her eyes luminous and damp. “Oh my God,” she said. “What are we doing?” She wriggled against him in an attempt to escape. He did not allow it.

“I should think that was obvious.”

“Seriously Holt. Seriously?” She wriggled again. He tightened his hold. A part of him ached at the fact she wanted to slip away. Another part of him really enjoyed the wriggling.

“I’m dead serious, Bella.”

“This isn’t a good idea.” She stopped resisting, but her chest rose and fell a bit too rapidly, indicating her internal distress. “You? Me? Like this?”

“Why not? That was a phenomenal first kiss. Can you imagine what the rest of it could be like?”

She stilled and stared at him. Her lips worked as she thought through the scenario. And goddamn, it was hot watching her think that through. When he saw that telltale flicker, when rational thought began to wedge its way in, he decided to push it.

Why the fuck not?

She’d been wild and inflamed in his arms. Clearly she felt something other than disgust for him. If there was even so much as a hint of attraction lurking in her breast, he would find it. Stroke it. Seduce it.

He could not let this go.

Not now that he’d tasted her.

“I want to fuck you, Bella.” This he whispered, caressing her breast and thumbing a nipple. It was hard, that nipple. Swollen and tender. “I want to make love to you. I want to make you come. I want you screaming in pleasure.” When she didn’t pull away, when her eyes widened and her beautiful lips parted and she whimpered a little in her throat, he tightened his hold on that tender crest.

“But I’m not… You can’t… I don’t…”


God preserve him from thinking women. He didn’t want her thinking. Didn’t need her thinking. Couldn’t bear to lose the ground he’d gained.

He dipped his head and put his mouth around her other nipple, manipulating one in his tight grasp while he sucked on the other through her shirt. This time when she wriggled, it was to get closer, to urge him on. She probably didn’t even realize her sharp nails were scoring his skull.

He didn’t give a shit. She could draw blood if she wanted to. As long and she let him continue.

To that end, he skated his other hand down her flank and over her thigh. And then, ever so smoothly, between her legs. She winced as he brushed against that heated crease. He pressed harder, imagining he felt a dampness pooling there.

Hunger churned in his gut. His pulse pounded in his cock. He flicked open the snap of her jeans and stroked her soft belly, then slipped beneath the band of her panties.

Thunder roared in his ears as he found her nest. Yeah, it was a tight fit, wedged into her jeans as he was, but a man needed to make the most of every situation. He covered her clit with three fingers and massaged her with tiny, restricted arcs as he relentlessly worked her nipples.

Her breathing devolved into gasps, and then hard pants. “Holt,” she panted, grabbing hold of his ears. “Holt. Holt. Holt!”

He didn’t need that gush of cream to tell him she’d come. Or the rigid spasms of her body. Or her assiduous grasp on his ears. The tone of her voice was plenty. It was a tone he’d never heard before, a low panicked hum, marking her complete loss of control.

God, he loved that tone.

He wanted to hear it again. And again.

Preferably with his cock buried deep in her body.

He liked making her lose control.

What he did not like was that she sprang from his lap almost as soon as she recovered herself. She took him at unawares, or he’d never have let her go.

She turned away from him, though he could see her clearly in the reflection of the windows, and fastened her jeans and rearranged her shirt. No matter how she rearranged that shirt, the wet spot where he had suckled her nipple as she came, the evidence of her passion, was still clearly visible.

She sucked in a deep breath. Then whirled around to face him. 

His mood plummeted. Hell. He knew that look. 

When she opened her mouth, he knew what she’d say.

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

The fuck.

The hell.

No way.

She was not going to deny this. He was not going to allow her to retreat back into that hard, impenetrable Bella-shell, the armor she wore to keep everyone and everything at bay.

He stood and faced her down, matching her stubbornness with his own brand. “Wrong.” Her eyes flared. 

Her nostrils pinched as he countermanded her announcement. He stepped closer. “It should have happened a long, long time ago.” 


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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 & sexy to scorching erotic romance.

Connect with her on twitter @sabrina_york, on Facebook or on Pintrest. Check out Sabrina’s books and read an excerpt on Amazon or wherever e-books are sold. Visit her website to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get the Free Teaser Book, and don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!  

Want more? Sign up to be a member of Sabrina's Street Team on Facebook!

Fall in Love on Tryst Island… When a group of friends share a vacation house, wild hi jinks, unexpected hook-ups and steamy sex ensue.


Grand Prize- win a 'delicate daytime' tiara from Sabrina York
each of the eBooks listed below. 

Two winners will get:
Picture Her Bound: Bayou Bound # 1 by Sidney Bristol: 
One Kiss: Midnight Kiss # 1 by Lisa Fox 
Rebound: Tryst Island # 1 by Sabrina York

  Drawing ends at 11:59 PM EST on 25 November – winner has 24 hours to respond. 18+ only


  1. Thank you for hosting today! ~Gaele

  2. THANK YOU so much for sharing the word about our books and this amazing giveaway!

    Who can't use a delicate daytime tiara?

    Good Luck to all who enter!


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