Happy Wednesday and Happy Release Day, y’all! It took quite a while to get Slide Down On Me from submission to published, but it’s finally here and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I had a wonderful time working with a new-to-me editor but who is well known in the industry, Kelli Collins. She taught me so much and I can’t thank her enough.
Small-town mechanic and tattooed bad boy Travis keeps his profile low, his needs satisfied outside the city limits, and his business running smoothly. He doesn’t cause trouble and he certainly doesn’t want any.
Trouble finds him one scorching afternoon, however, in the form of the equally scorching Arabella Drake. The former heiress owes Travis for car repairs, money she can’t readily pay.
Their situation requires a creative solution, and while most of the town rejects Bella, Travis wants to ravish her. He offers a proposal, one that will soften the repair costs—and satisfy Travis’ longstanding wish to have Bella Drake naked, writhing and sliding down on every inch of him.
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“Twenty-five hundred dollars?” Bella’s lips barely moved over the words. Her throat closed and nausea rolled through her belly. If she said anything more, her breakfast of toast and coffee from several hours earlier were going to be all over the garage floor. They probably wouldn’t even notice, given the stains of oil, gasoline and what she could only hope were other car fluids dotting the concrete.
She supposed it could be the fumes making her lightheaded. She wasn’t used to such strong, bitter smells.
“Close,” he said, looking down at his clipboard. “Twenty-five hundred, sixty-seven dollars…” He looked up again, giving a benign smile. “And thirty-nine cents.”
Bella met his gaze. Travis. He was as gorgeous as ever. His cobalt eyes held no hint of emotion, no matter the sarcasm that dripped from his lips.
Tattoos covered his arms and disappeared under his short-sleeve shirt and drifted up the sides of his neck. Black hair brushed his collar and was so dark that in the right light, one could swear it shown blue. He was tall, broad yet lean-hipped, and she’d wondered for years what his rough mechanic’s hands would feel like on her skin.
She’d had a secret crush on him when she was growing up. She’d see him around town and out on the lake, but they were from two different worlds and though their paths rarely crossed, when he was near, she was always acutely aware of him.
“I…I don’t have access to that kind of money anymore, Travis,” she said quietly. No thanks to my brother. Humility seemed to be her new best friend, but in front of Travis? That was a new level she wasn’t exactly comfortable with.
Heat bloomed in her cheeks, but she was just stubborn enough not to look away. She wanted to get out of here, run as far as she could, but there was nowhere to go, no place for her to hide. And now, thanks to the transmission in her car, no way for her to get anywhere. She squared her shoulders and swallowed past the queasiness.
“That’s as low as I can go, Bella.”
Bella sighed. “That low or going lower or raising the number doesn’t matter. Not even the sixty-seven thirty-nine. At least not until payday.” Her voice didn’t shake and she was proud of that. He was sexier than a man ought to be, but she wouldn’t let that distract her. “Can you hold the car for a little while? At least a couple of days?”
“I take credit cards.”
“Really?” She didn’t roll her eyes, but the sarcasm in her tone couldn’t be mistaken. “Travis…” This wasn’t the first time she’d come up against this argument. “I don’t use credit cards anymore.”
“And I don’t generally hold cars for anyone other than friends. The lot is pretty small, you see,” he observed, looking over her shoulder out the bay door. “I don’t want legit customers thinking I can’t take care of them because there’s a fancy piece sittin’ out front.”
She ignored his emphasis on the word “piece” and fought the suddenly strong urge to kick him. She turned her head and followed his line of sight.
The front of the garage had a small parking area, but there was also room out back he used. “It’s a Cadillac. People drive them all the time. Please, Travis. Just a couple of days until I get paid on Friday.”
“Please” had become the most-used word in her vocabulary. She’d always used it, along with thank you, excuse me, yes ma’am and no sir among, other courteous terms, but they had all taken on whole new meanings since she was no longer the heiress who lived in a mansion.
Their gazes locked again and he didn’t seem moved by her plea.
“It was all I could do to get it here this morning. It kept dying anytime I got it over forty. I don’t have any way to get it back to the lake or anywhere else to keep it.”
He heaved a sigh. “Until Friday. Not a day later.”
Relief swamped her and she smiled. “Friday. Yes. Th-thank you, Travis. Thank you.” It was a small battle but she’d won. “I have to get back to the flower shop, but I’ll be in touch Friday when I get off work.” She spun on her heel, heart thumping wildly in her chest at the victory. Of course, her mind whirled with the fact that it would take longer than two days to get the money, but one step at a time.
His voice from behind abruptly stopped her forward progress. She was thankful that she didn’t stumble over herself.
“Do you need a ride?”
Lust flooded her, but Bella masked her surface reaction before facing him again. Oh yes, she’d love a ride. A long, hard, naked ride. On him. He hadn’t moved closer but heat flared between them. Maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as he’d have her believe. “N-no. I walked here. I can walk back. I don’t want to owe you any more than I already do.”
Travis shrugged. “Suit yourself. Have a good day then.”
I hope you will enjoy reading more about Travis and Bella… And please, whether or not you like and enjoy it, I would appreciate if you’d leave a review at the e-tailer of your purchase.
Now, as a little bit of a special treat, my friend Sabrina York also has an Ellora’s Cave release today. Dark Duke. What an intriguing and sexy title. I’m currently reading the first book in this series, Dark Fancy.
If you’re new to the series, download Sabrina’s free teaser book at http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ to read blurbs and excerpts for this popular series. Each book in the series is a stand-alone story.
Noble Passions, Book Three
Edward Wyeth, the Dark Duke of Moncrieff’s life has been turned on its end. His well-ordered home has been invaded. By destitute relatives. From Scotland. How on earth can he write Lord Hedon’s salacious novels with hellions battling in the garden and starting fires in the library? But with the onslaught has come a delicious diversion. His cousin’s companion, the surprisingly intriguing Kaitlin MacAllister. He is determined to seduce her. Using her desperate need for funds and her talents as an artist, he convinces her to draw naughty pictures for his naughtier books…and he draws her into his decadent web.
But Kaitlin has a secret. She’s fled Scotland—and a very determined betrothed. When Edward’s cousin is kidnapped and held in her stead, Kaitlin is honor-bound to return to her homeland and rescue her—much to Edward’s chagrin.
Because suddenly he can’t bear the thought of Kaitlin marrying another man. He can’t bear the thought of losing her at all.
A Romantica® Regency historical erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave
Buy Links: Amazon | Ellora’s Cave
Edward skirted the mêlée in the garden and made his way to the far end of the estate, where there was nothing but flowers and trees and a placid little pond. Nothing to attract diminutive fiends bent on mischief. He would sit in the folly until his temperature returned to normal.
Perhaps until spring.
Dear God. He’d had no idea having the Wyeths of Perth take over his house would be such a nightmare. If he had suspected as much, he would have turned them away at the start. They would probably have crawled in under the door. Through the cracks in the flue. Vermin had a way of finding entrance.
But now. Now they were here.
He had to get rid of them.
Perhaps he could send them back to Scotland.
Scotland would revile him for it, but he had little use for rocky tors, lochs and sheep.
Then he thought of Violet and his heart lurched. It would crush her to be trundled back to what she referred to as “the bleak wilderness.” She was looking forward to a glittering season in London. She was seventeen. She needed a husband. A husband of quality. That might be difficult to find in the wilds of Scotland.
And Ned. Ned was twenty. He was just starting to find his way with the ton. He’d made some friends—decent fellows. He’d even been receiving invitations to game at White’s.
The two of them—the normal two—deserved better than being lumped in with the rest.
He whacked at a rosebud as he passed. It exploded into a flutter of petals. He refused to feel any sympathy.
He couldn’t send them packing.
Hell. He was a duke of the realm. He had six houses spread throughout the empire. Why hadn’t he thought to purchase a spare in London?
That was brilliant.
He would. He’d buy them their own house. Move them all, lock stock and—well, maybe not the barrels, as the older boys did like to drink. He’d move them all into their own domicile.
With Aunt Hortense. Let her manage them.
His life would once again be orderly. He would be the master of his own abode. Free to pursue the life of a wealthy dilettante.
He rounded the bend with a satisfied smile on his face. The trickle of the fountain in the pond was a balm to his tormented soul. Birds sang in the trees. The sun—well, it almost shone. It was a beautiful day.
Soon, the world would be right again.
Soon, they would all be gone.
He skipped up the steps of the folly with a lightness of heart he hadn’t felt in ages. A book on the bench snagged his attention and his mood dipped, but only a bit. Someone had been here. But they were gone.
He picked it up and flipped through it and stilled.
It was a sketch book.
The first page was an attempt at this scene. The flowers and trees, the pond and the little fountain. Not very good. But the second arrested his attention. It was a simple line drawing of Violet. And it was stunning. The artist had managed to depict her beauty, but also captured that glint in her eye, the particular quirk of her lips. Her soul.
The next sketch was one of Ned, showing a brash young man, standing insouciantly with his hands shoved into his pockets, whistling a silent tune. The next was of the twins—whatever their names were—dark heads together plotting some manner of mayhem.
It was so realistic Edward expected them to leap from the page and whack him with a cricket bat.
But it was the last sketch in the book that stole his breath. It was a portrait, in profile. His own face. But not an Edward he would ever recognize. This man was heroic, tragic, a solitary soldier. It was only a few lines drawn in charcoal, but it revealed so much about him. Things he didn’t want anyone to ever know.
It was horrifying. And remarkable.
He snapped the book shut and spun around.
Of course. What’s her name. The girl. The owl. From last night.
“Oh, you found it.” She stepped into the folly and took the book from his hands. He did not know why he let it go.
“You left it here.” An accusation. Really? He hadn’t intended for it to come out like that.
She chuckled. “I had to go rescue Hamish. I was coming back.”
“What…why did you have to rescue Hamish?” This was her work? She saw him like that? And hell, she was a damn fine hand. How he would love to turn such talent to…darker purposes. What a pity she was such a prude. The kind of work he could offer her would make her rich—rich enough to quit serving as Violet’s companion.
But she would never do it. No decent woman would.
He must be crazed, truly crazed, to even think on it.
The gripping sketch of his wounded countenance lingered in his brain. If she could do that, if she could see through to his soul and bring it to life on paper—
“And then he got stuck. In the tree. So I had to rescue him.”
Lord. She’d been talking. He’d missed the entire explanation. No matter. The question had been purely rhetorical.
“How long have you been drawing?”
She winced, clutched the book to her breast. He recalled what fine breasts they were. “I… What?”
“How long have you been drawing? You’re quite good.”
“You looked at my book?” She squawked as though he’d just admitted to peering up her skirts. The lemony face returned. A beetled brow and pursed lips. It was, upon reflection, rather adorable.
“It was lying here.”
“You shouldn’t look at someone’s sketchbook.”
“You shouldn’t leave it where it can be found.” He crossed his arms over his chest and grinned at her. Damn, he loved her accent.
She sputtered. “I told you. Hamish and Tay—”
“Taylor. Hamish and Taylor were building a fort in a tree—”
“Yes. Yes. I know. You had to rescue him. Tell me, have they always been this much trouble?”
She blew out a breath. “You have no idea.”
They both laughed. It was a nice moment, because it seemed, for that brief flash of time, they were friends, bound in mutual misery.
And then he went and ruined it by letting his lust intrude. “So tell me, what did you think of that book?”
She tipped her head. “What book?”
“The one I gave you last night.”
She blinked several times, as though she had to try very hard to remember. “Oh. That book. I didn’t read it.”
He stepped closer. “Ah. You like to look at the pictures, then?” He knew the sort.
“Look at the… What? No, your Grace—”
“Edward.” He infused his voice with a low thrum.
“Your Grace. I didn’t have a chance to open it.”
Why petulance curled within him, he had no clue. “What do you mean you didn’t have a chance to open it?” She was supposed to have read it. Or at least looked at the pictures. She was supposed to be gazing at him, right now, with a dewy look.
She brushed an invisible speck from her skirt. “There was…a distraction.”
Well hell. “What kind of distraction?”
Her lips pursed. The look she shot him was not dewy in the slightest.
Still, he wanted to kiss her.
He wasn’t sure why. She was certainly not the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But her face had character and charm—especially when she smiled. Her figure was full—the way he liked them—but she didn’t show it off to its best effect. In fact, if he hadn’t known what lay beneath the thick layers of crinoline and bombazine, he would have been fooled. She was prickly as a hedgehog and smacked him down at every turn.
So why did he want to pull her into his arms and smother her mouth with his?
Perhaps because of all those things.
Then again, perhaps just because.
So he did.
He took the girl—whose name he could not remember, whose face he could not forget—into his arms and kissed her. It was a gentle buss, as kisses went, but extremely sublime. Because he’d surprised her.
Her lips were open, as though poised to speak. He took full advantage, sweeping in his tongue to dab at hers, nibbling and licking and tasting her sweet breath.
The prick at his side was not a surprise. He’d expected it.
He lifted his head and stared down into her eyes. Her expression was dazed and determined and perhaps a little dewy. “Not this time, darling,” he murmured. He took the knife from her hand and tossed it aside and then pulled her more fully against him.
And ah. She was soft. Sweet. Her breasts pressed against his chest. Her hips molded the cradle of his groin. Of course, he was the one doing the molding, but she didn’t fight him.
No. She sighed and tipped her head to the side so he could deepen the kiss. She tasted like ambrosia. A tantalizing flavor of cinnamon and woman and surrender. His ardor rose, and with it, his cock. He rubbed it against her belly.
She stiffened and tried to push away, muttering something into his mouth that sounded like “No.”
He changed his tack, running his lips down her cheek and along the line of her jaw to nestle in the crook of her neck. She shuddered. Some groan-like sound emanated from her throat. She clutched at his hair.
Thusly encouraged, he sucked at the tender skin of her neck. Nipped.
“Oh! Saints preserve us,” she whispered.
“The saints don’t care,” he responded, switching to the other side of her neck. He found a spot that delighted her even more and feasted there. In her distraction, she didn’t stop the palm skimming over her ribs to cup a breast.
He encased her. Ah. Exquisite. Full and round and pliable. He thumbed a nipple, testing its rigidity. She dipped as her knees gave way. He caught her. Swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bench.
From long experience, he knew better than to give a woman a moment to think. So as soon as he had her settled across his lap and firmly braced against the wall of the folly, he kissed her again. With one hand, he stroked her nipples while with the other, he slowly drew up her skirts.
About Sabrina York
Her Royal Hotness, Sabrina York is the award winning author of over 20 hot, humorous stories for smart and sexy readers. Her titles range from sweet & sexy erotic romance to scorching BDSM. 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 webpage at www.sabrinayork.com to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Free Teaser Book: http://sabrinayork.com/home-2/sabrina-yorks-teaser-book/ And don’t forget to enter to win the royal tiara!
For one commentor, I’m going to be giving away a copy of Slide Down On Me, and Sabrina’s Dark Duke… Mine is contemporary, her’s is historical, both are scorching hot!
What was the first romance you can remember reading?
It is author’s choice. And as the author, I decided to ask my readers what their choice would be for a snippet today. I was not surprised in their answer, however, I thought perhaps someone would come up with a different answer here and there, but, no. The results were overwhelming in the favor of…Simple Need. Everyone wanted a Vinter snippet.
I swear, if I could figure out how to re-create that magic, I would. Y’all kill me with how much you love him. Gives a girl a complex for every other male character she creates… And just imagine how those other heros feel… Be careful, they may gang up on Vin and beat his hotness right out of him. That wouldn’t be pretty! You might consider spreading the love a little… Grins.
So, as my readers have spoken, so it may be…
“Thank you. I just think names are a complication this kind of thing doesn’t need.”
“This kind of thing? Just what do you think this is?”
“You know, one night.”
“Huh.” He nodded once, though he completely disagreed and slid off the barstool, gesturing for her to walk ahead of him. She stopped short and had he not been paying attention, he’d have bumped right into her. As it was, he was able to catch himself just a hairsbreadth from her. When she turned around, her nose brushed his chest and she ended up being the one to stumble back in surprise. He caught her around the back of the neck only to haul her into his body.
Her breath came out on in a whoosh. “Th-the drink. Are you sure?” she panted out, her gaze locked in the center of his chest.
“I’m sure.” Vinter breathed in deep, the warm scents of fruit and spice wrapping around him. She looked up, questions in her eyes, and he smiled. “I own part of the house.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
She gave him a short, crisp nod and maneuvered out of his hold and out the door. He ignored the laughter ringing out behind him from the bartender and followed her outside into the cool night air.
She was on him in a second. The force of her launching herself at him pressed him back against the wall of the building as she pulled his mouth down to hers. Maybe she wasn’t as buttoned down as he’d first thought.
Her kiss was hungry and desperate. He hated that she’d been driven to need what he could give, but at the same time, he’d give it all and then some, grateful that he had what she needed. He was suddenly very glad that he’d stopped at the bar on his way home.
His arms wrapped around her and he turned them, reversing their positions. With a groan, he tore away from her mouth only to trail kisses along her jaw. “Put your legs around me.”
“N…no, I can’t. I’m too heavy. You can’t hold me up.”
He nipped at her neck and tugged on the skin with his lips, wanting to soothe the anxious edge in her voice. “My build is deceptive. I may be slim, but I’m strong enough. Trust me, I can do it. I’ll help you.” And to show her he meant it, he reached down and wrapped one hand around the back of her knee and lifted her leg up around his thigh. He pressed into her harder. “Lift your other leg, baby. I’ve got you, I swear.”
Her hands slid up his arms and her fingers gripped his shoulders as she lifted her foot off the ground. He shifted slightly and caught both her legs in his hands as he moved her up the wall with his body. She was heavy against him, but god, it was a glorious heavy and he fucking loved it. Her soft body and full curves welcomed him into the plushness and his cock strained against the zipper of his jeans where the heat from the juncture of her thighs teased him.
“Shit, woman. You’ve got to be the sexiest…” His lips captured hers again before he finished his statement. Tongue met tongue, breath mingled with breath, and as her hands slid up over his head, his fingers flexed around her thighs and ass, wanting her naked. She rocked against him and he shoved himself against her, the fucking through their clothes a frustrating and delicious friction. Could she feel the ridges of his cock piercings through the double layer of denim separating their flesh from one another? He sure as hell could. He felt them rubbing the inside of his jeans. What would she think, how would she react to seeing the metal along the shaft and through the head? He wondered these things and a lot more in the space of a few seconds and then stopped wondering altogether.
Forcing an end to the kiss, Vinter looked into her face, his hips still pumping against her. She tightened around him and gasped air into her lungs with her lower body bearing down. She was going to come. He could see it in her face, feel it in the tensing of her muscles. The street lamps, the parking lot lights showed everything in her expression.
It was a whisper as he surged up hard. It was a whimper as he ground into her.
He was going to have her this way back at his place with the exception that they’d both be naked. He was going to hoist her up against the door, the wall, set her on the kitchen counter, anchor her on the back of the couch, and fuck her. There wasn’t going to be a single surface left untouched in his house when he got through with her.
Then, after a little recovery, he was going to start all over again. Outside. On the porch, on the hood of his car, in the grass.
Snippet #2: (just because y’all are nice)
Gently, he turned her face to him and kissed her eyelids. She moaned and nuzzled her cheek in his hand. She was so sweet to look at. He hated that she’d been hurt, but he didn’t regret being the one who would get her through it to the other side. He knew what tonight was about and he was okay with that. There might even be more than just tonight, but they’d take it one step at a time. He was nothing if not patient when he wanted something and he damn sure wanted her. He knelt on the ground and leaned in to kiss the corner of her lips. “Wake up, baby. We’re here. Let’s get you inside.”
After a few seconds of him rubbing his thumb over her cheek, her eyes fluttered open. “I fell asleep.”
Her voice was all soft, sexy sleepiness. He smiled. “Yes, you did.”
“Don’t be. C’mon, I’ll help you out of the car.” He took her hand in his and let her take her time getting up out of the deep bucket seat. He grabbed her purse from the roof, closed the door and walked her slowly up to the front of the house, holding her close against his side. He pressed the lock button on the key fob for the car, then inserted the house key and unlocked the door, ushering her inside.
“Kick off your shoes,” he murmured once they were in the house.
She leaned back against the door and did as he said. He hadn’t noticed her pretty painted toenails before now, but heavens when she toed off her sandals, her bright pink toes winked at him in the hallway light. Was there going to be anything at all about this woman that didn’t make him want to throw her down and rut like an animal? Because so far, everything she did made him want to stuff himself inside her, feel her close around him, and fuck. She had the body of a pin-up girl from way back when and while she wasn’t his regular type, as he wasn’t hers, perhaps things were about to change for both of them.
With her head reclining back and her dreamy, half-closed eyes gazing at him, he stripped her of her shirt and bra. She never protested, just moved her body to accommodate him and made it easier for him to undress her. His breath caught in his throat when he had her naked from the waist up.
Her breasts were full and would overflow his hands, but not by much, and he had to fist them to keep from reaching out. His fingers itched to tug on her nipples, make her gasp as he twisted them, rolled them and bit them. He didn’t do any of that right then, only trailed the tips of his fingers over the pale, plump mounds.
“Do you want to sleep naked, in panties or in one of my shirts?” he asked as he went to work on her jeans. The snap was popped and the zipper pulled down and then he was pushing them down over her full hips and legs until she could step out of them. He didn’t know what it was about her that compelled him. She wasn’t dressed to pick up a guy, hadn’t been looking to do it. She’d been dressed as though she were going to have a casual dinner with some friends. Her jeans hugged the curve of her hips and the dip of her waist, molding around her ass, though they weren’t tight on her. Her bra was serviceable, plain, no adornments or lacy trim. It did nothing more than hold her tits in. It was designed for function, not for seduction. But everything about her when she’d looked at him in the bar screamed “fuck me”.
He took a step back and just stared at her, his mind filled with all the things he wanted to do to her, his cock filled to unbearable hardness. She was lush and gorgeous standing there in black lace panties that covered her lower belly and her hips. Her curves should be on display all the time, minimally covered and marked by a lover. He’d be lucky if he didn’t come in his jeans again just by looking at her.
“Panties and a tee shirt.”
“No, you get to choose only one.” Taking her by the hand again, he led her through the darkened living room to the bedroom. He tugged her inside and turned on a lamp. Damn, he should have made the bed. The blankets and sheets were strewn in all directions, one pillow rested on the floor, two more were piled one on top of the other against the headboard. He looked down at her, an apology on his tongue at the mess that greeted them, but the longing in her face as she looked at the bed erased the feeling. He left her in the doorway and went to right the covers and rearrange the pillows. “What’s it going to be?”
“Both please,” she whispered, a blush stealing through her cheeks and shoulders.
How could he deny her? “Okay, baby. I’ll let you have both tonight. Tomorrow night though, only one. Understand?”
She nodded and he walked to his dresser. He pulled the second drawer and snagged an old, soft shirt. Her eyes were closed as he stepped in front of her again. “Lift your arms up. Good girl.” He slipped the shirt over her hands and head, letting it fall around her body. It came to rest just below her ass. He’d never seen anything quite as sweet and sexy as her half asleep in his shirt. “Come get in the bed.”
She was on the mattress without having to be told twice, her full tits bouncing and swaying beneath the threadbare cotton. He pulled the covers over her after she curled on her side. Vinter knelt to be at eye level with her and brushed her hair back over her ear.
“I’m sorry I’m not much fun tonight. Drinking makes me sleepy. And the orgasm really made me feel good. You’re very nice to let me sleep here.”
“It’s all right. I’ll let you make it up to me in the morning.”
Please visit the following blogs for some awesome snippets…
Oh and because I’m going to the ACC Championship Game tonight here in Charlotte…