I'm posting another great release from my friend Sabrina York! Had to share her good news and also a Big CONTEST at the end of this post!!!
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exciting opportunity for you to discover new authors writing in the genre you
love in a world you know!
And if you become inspired to do so, YOU can write and
publish a HOT SEAL romance in Cat’s world too!
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Guard Dog by Sabrina
York
A scorching sequel to
Stone Hard SEALs
Mason Steele expected to be a SEAL until the day he died.
And he was. A pity they revived him. Now he’s been mustered out of the Navy and
his life seems wholly unsatisfying. He misses the action; he misses the
camaraderie; he misses being able to use his tightly-honed skills. He’s lucky
to have snagged this job with GAPS—the Guardian Angel Protective Services—it
provides some hope for his future. But the last thing he wants to do is babysit
a spoiled heiress who is obsessed with the color of her nail polish and carries
a Chihuahua in her purse.
But there’s more to Pansy Hightower than can be seen at
first glance. She’s smart, sassy and determined to save the business her late
mother built. She resents having a guard
dog and does what she can to lose her muscular shadow. But when it becomes
clear that someone is targeting her—perhaps for the same kind of fatal
“accident” that befell her mother, she decides having the 240 pound SEAL with
killer instincts and lethal hands at her back might be a good idea after all.
Until they share a kiss, that is. Until those lethal hands
prove they have other talents as well. Talents that leave her breathless and
wanting and weak. The last thing either of them wants is a relationship, but
the scorching passion between them cannot be denied…even though it will
undoubtedly spell disaster for them both.
READ AN EXCERPT
“All right
then.” Pansy’s surprisingly chipper voice cut through his dismal mood. It had
been mortifying admitting his weakness, his failure, especially to her. It was
something of a relief that she didn’t seem to understand the deep implications
of his confession.
He dared a
glance at her. Even bedraggled and tattered as she was, he wanted her. She shot
him a bright smile. It made him glower. “All right then, what?” he muttered.
“All
right, then. You’ll do.”
You’ll do?
You’ll do? Irritation riffled through
him. When she tipped her head and her ponytail swung, his ire blossomed.
“But I
don’t know about the others.”
“The
others are excellent.” He wasn’t sure why he was arguing with her. He wanted this job. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to keep
her safe. And for some reason, thought of some other dude, even one of his
brothers in arms, stepping into the duty rankled.
“But I
don’t know them.”
“We’ll
arrange a meet.” It was standard procedure…when they weren’t on a covert job.
She put
out a lip. God he wanted to suckle it. Maybe it would be better if someone else
took over. He was far too attracted to her to keep a clear mind. “But I want
you,” she said.
Again, her
words made something hard and needy sizzle through his bowels. He knew what she
meant. He knew she was talking about her protection and not some scalding,
savage coupling in the big bed in the next room that was far too close to be
successfully ignored.
It was a
testament to his delusional state that all he could think about was sex. All he
could think about was stripping her naked and taking her here and now. That she
wanted it as much as he did.
He
imagined he could smell her arousal in the air, which was ridiculous.
A woman
like her and a guy like him?
Yeah.
Nucking futs.
“No
worries. I’ll be on your team. But we’ll have at least three others.” Two on
days and two on nights. Although, if he had his way, she wouldn’t be going out
again. Certainly not to clubs where he couldn’t guarantee her safety. On that
note, he fixed her with a dark look. “We need to talk about security. You’re
going to have to make some lifestyle changes until this threat is contained.”
“Like
what?”
“Like
going out in public.”
“I have a
business to run.”
“Is that
what they call it? Partying all night with entitled socialites like Monique
Dupree?” He didn’t mean to snarl it as he did. But it hardly mattered. She was
utterly unaffected by his ferocity.
“Those entitled socialites are my customer
base. More than that. They are my influencers.”
He had no
idea what that meant. “Too many people. Too many blind spots. We need to keep
you in controllable environments.” Like this hotel. Like this suite. That bed…
“Controllable
environments?”
Again with
the pouting lip. God. It was driving him crazy.
With a
grunt, he pushed to his feet—ignoring the sharp string of yips this elicited
from Ratacus—and prowled to the wall of windows, pulling back the curtains and
peering out at the night in a pretense of assessing any potential hazards. Her
suite was on the thirtieth floor. Doubtful anyone would enter from the balcony.
Still, he checked the lock on the door. Probably wouldn’t hurt to install a
door brace on the front door. He strode back to the foyer and jiggled the
handle. Yeah, definitely a brace. He made a mental note of other upgrades the
suite needed, of the things he needed to check. First order of business was to
sweep for any bugs and check for hidden cameras.
He glanced
over at Pansy and immediately revised his priorities. She was leaning back with
her head resting on the sofa, her eyes closed. Her face was a cameo of
perfection, but it was wreathed in exhaustion. First order of business was to
get her to bed.
Lust
lanced him.
Shit.
No. Get
her in bed.
Alone.
By
herself.
So she
could sleep.
Aw, hell.
His gaze
skated over her and he took in the rips in her dress, the scrapes on her legs
and the dirt smudging her cheek. He should have tended to her wounds right off
the bat. He should have seen to her comfort. He should have—
An ominous
clicking sound and a sudden riffle of movement near his ankles captured his
attention and he glanced down.
Lola, in
her pink tutu glared up at him, her lip curled over impressively pointy teeth.
Mason tipped his head to the side and met her challenging gaze with one of his
own. It said: Really? Whatcha gonna do,
Ratacus?
He
probably shouldn’t have.
She lifted
her leg.
And peed
on his boots.
“Son of a
bitch.” He didn’t mean to boom as he leaped back, but he did. Pansy shot up,
her eyes wide. “What?” she cried. “What is it?”
He shot
her a contrite look. “Your dog peed on my boots.”
“She does
that.” Pansy huffed a sigh and headed for the powder room to grab a hand towel.
“One of the reasons I don’t date.” She knelt before him and mopped up the
puddle.
He should
have stooped to help her, but honestly, he couldn’t. He couldn’t move to save
his life. Because there she was, kneeling before him, with her head so close…
A
scintillating thought, a captivating vision, a scalding need rose like the
hydra. That, and a lowering realization.
He was a
pervert. A goddamn pervert.
She was
cleaning his fucking boots for God’s sake.
“You need
a shower.”
Right. No
idea why he blurted that.
Well,
maybe one idea. He desperately needed her to stand. To move away, before he
lost his mind and did something insane and necessary, like pull her closer.
She looked
up at him. He forced himself to step away, he had to. Or his erection might
have brushed her cheek.
And that
would have been a disaster.
“Yeah. Um.
You’re all banged up. We should get some antiseptic on those scrapes. Do you
have a first aid kit?”
She said
nothing so he glanced at her. That she was staring at his crotch sent a bolt of
lightning through him. Her tongue peeped out and she lifted her gaze. He could
have sworn he saw something simmering there. He tried mightily to ignore it.
Surely it
wasn’t what he thought. Imagined. Ached for.
“Do you?
Have a first aid kit?”
She shook
her head. “I have no idea.” Nearly a whisper.
“I’ll call
the concierge.” This was a penthouse suite. Surely there was a concierge. “Why
don’t you go…um, clean up and I’ll call down for something.”
She stood
slowly, holding his gaze. Something about her, her energy, her intensity, had
shifted. It made him antsy. It made him restless. It made him hungry. She
turned around—his heart sank—but then she said, softly, with a tentative quiver
to her voice, “Could you unzip me?”
Holy.
Fuck.
She peeped
at him over her shoulder. Her eyes, so beautiful and blue, bore into his. “I
can’t do it myself.”
He was
certain she could. She was a grown woman. She’d been dressing—and
undressing—herself for years. But he couldn’t refuse. Not when she asked so
politely. “S-sure.” Hopefully she missed the stutter.
She could
not have missed the fact that his fingers shook as he tried to grasp the tiny
teardrop at the top of her zipper. Why the fuck did it have to be so tiny? It
took forever for him to make the long journey down her spine, partly because
the damn zipper kept catching and partly because he really wanted to savor the
journey. As it advanced, more and more
of her creamy skin was exposed. He wanted nothing more than to place his palm
on her, to stroke her. To feel the heat of her skin against this.
But she’d
asked him to unzip her. Not make a move.
It was a
damn good thing he’d developed indomitable willpower as a SEAL. Denying himself
things crucial to his being—air, water, food—was par for the course in their
training.
This was
by far the most difficult denial of all.
When he
reached the bottom of the zipper, when a hint of a crease at the base of her
spine was exposed, he stepped back. Though it cost him. “There,” he said.
Jesus,
God. He was going to heaven for this.
He fucking
better.
His
restraint was nothing short of a penance.
But then…
Holy God.
But
then…she shifted her shoulders and the scrap of material drifted to the floor.
She shot another glance at him, something that was too much of an invitation to
be misunderstood or misconstrued, and, wearing nothing but her skimpy bra and
panties, padded into the bathroom.
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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 romance.
Visit her webpage at
www.sabrinayork.com
to check out her books, excerpts and contests. Get updates and alerts from
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