By
Sabrina York (Guest Blogger)
Lisabet
asked me to share some of my adventures during my recent visit to
Scotland, to research my next Highlander series. My brain started to
spin, because there were so many stories I would love to share! Let’s
stick to the top five things I experienced in Scotland!
We
took the Caledonian Sleeper Car from London to Inverness Very
romantic! Here’s my berth:
We
had High Tea at the Grand Highland hotel!
I
sat at a table with a plate of Haggis Balls in front of me. (Notice I
am not eating them). I think my expression says it all.
We
visited the village my mother’s family came from!
We
found the end of the rainbow!
What
do you write?
People
often ask me what I write…and then they are surprised by my answer:
Everything
My
huge confession: In addition to being dyslexic, I have ADD. Yeah, I
write all over the place. Every genre fascinates me and I cannot
resist testing myself everywhere! (I recently even wrote a Sci Fi
Space Opera!)
What
do you like to read??
Hot
Highlander? Gottem.
Do
you read contemporaries too?
Yeah.
I pretty much have it all!
Here’s
what I promise. All my romances, no matter the sub-genre, are filled
with steamy passion, snarky humor, super HOT heroes and a happy
ending.
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New
Release!
Bestselling
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
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.
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
Want
More Highlanders by Sabrina York?
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 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.
There’s
also The
Toymakers’ Guild,
which I’ve had on my back burner for a long time—a
steam punk erotica series about a mysterious organization of sexual
engineers who construct custom sex gadgets for the rich and
well-connected—but
who have their own relationships and secrets.
