When you think of a cowboy, do you see a lean hipped, swaggering kind of man? Tough from the saddle? Hard in the desert? (snort.) Quick on the draw?
I see him as BIG, as in muscular and BEEFY. yum.
I see him as gruff-voiced, dark stubble on his square jaw. Kind of like this man:
Like this man:
See all my men, cowboys or city-slickers, here: www.jasminejade.com/m-560-cerise-deland.aspx
What does your western man look like?
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Welcome to my guest, Sabrina!
Temptation is the Spice of Life
My debut novel, Adam’s Obsession, exploded into the world to rave reviews. Many of you who read Adam’s story have been asking about his sexy brother Tristan. You will be happy to hear that Tristan’s Temptation, the second book in the Trillo Brothers duet, will be available May 25th! You can find it on my Ellora’s Cave Author Page, or visit my website to check out where it’s available.
Here’s a little taste:
Tristan Trillo has one steadfast rule: Thou Shalt Not Fish in the Company Pond. That puts his sexy secretary, Shannon Weiss, firmly out of reach. But when Shannon discovers the depth of his desire for her, she vows to seduce him.
After a blazing, illicit tryst, Tristan insists that ‘they can never do this again.’ So Shannon, ever the obedient assistant, makes certain the next time, they do something completely different.
Poor Tristan is a man trapped between his steadfast rule and a burning passion. A rock, if you will, and a very hard place.
An Irresistible Temptation…
It was nearly ten that night when he finally broke down and called her. He used the phone, because they’d already done the computer thing, and he’d insisted that couldn’t happen again. The phone, for some reason, he could justify.
It took her a moment to pick up, though he knew she was home. He could see the light streaming softly through her windows as he stood on the bluff overlooking her house.
“Hello?” Her voice was soft, watery. Like she’d been crying.
“Tristan.” She fairly breathed his name.
“Are you all right?”
She sniffled. “Oh yeah. I was just, um, watching a movie. How are you?”
“I’m… good.” It was a lie. He was hungry and antsy and annoyed. “I’ve been thinking about you.” Like incessantly.
“Have you?” Her sniffles seemed to have cleared up. He watched as she stepped out onto the patio, wearing a terrycloth robe, cell phone in hand and looked up at his house. He sketched a wave.
“Yes. Have you been thinking about me?”
“A little.” He heard the smile in her voice.
“Just a little?”
“Well. Okay. A lot.” He watched as she sat on a lounge chair and pulled a blanket over her lower body. It was a cool night and her legs were bare.
“Did you just get out of the shower?” Something started to simmer in his groin.
He groaned at the vision her words created in his head. “Did you have bubbles?”
“Not tonight. But I could do that, if it would interest you. I’d let you watch.”
“Would you?” He liked that idea. He liked it very much. “Did you touch yourself while you were in the bath?”
She chortled. “Of course, Tristan. But do you know what?”
“What?” He was breathless with curiosity.
“I’m touching myself right now.”
“What!” He nearly dropped his cell over the cliff. Jesus. There. On the balcony. Outside!
“Oh yeah.” She moaned deep and low. He swore he could see her fingers undulating inside that robe, under the blanket, a quarter mile away. In the shadows.
“Shannon, Jesus. You’re killing me.”
She didn’t reply, but he watched as her knees rose to points in the distance as she shifted her body. Anyone else watching would have no idea that the woman relaxing on the lounger was slipping her fingers deep inside her body, but Tristan knew. He knew with a visceral jolt to his solar plexus as he heard her groan, the sharp gasps and the tiny little whimpers of pleasure. “Hell.” He squinted his eyes in a vain attempt to see her better. There in the dark. A quarter mile away.
“Oh yes.” Her voice was like velvet. “I’m so wet for you, Tristan. I’ve been thinking about you all day and I want you in me sooo bad.”
“Do you?” Hell. He wanted that too. More than fucking anything.
“Mmm. Do you know how hard my little nub is? It’s like a stone. So hard. So swollen. It feels so good when I touch it. I wish you could touch it. I wish you could lick it. I wish…”
But Shannon was talking to herself. Tristan had severed he connection and was heading for the door, his car keys and his hard on making twin bulges in his jeans…
Because Everyone Needs Sparkly Handcuffs
My Tiara contest was so popular I have vowed to do it again in the future, but in the meantime, I have a really fun new contest for a pair of sexy rhinestone handcuffs. All you need to do to enter to win is subscribe to my Hotsheet (for info on new contests & releases). There is only one entry per person, but you can earn more entries by referring your friends to SabrinaYork.com. For each friend that signs up for the newsletter, you earn another entry, but they must tell me you referred them. If you have already subscribed to the newsletter, you are automatically entered.
So why handcuffs?
Well, other than the fact that I absolutely fell in love with them—they are so sparkly!—they go along with the theme of my next two releases which, like Adam’s Obsession, include some playful BDSM. You can check out covers and read excerpts of all my coming books on my website. Feel free to pop by www.sabrinayork.com to say “Hi,” or visit me on some of my other favorite sites.
You can find me on Twitter at @sabrina_york, on Facebook and on Pintrest. If you feel brave, check out my Inspiration for the Hotness board which is filled with exquisite sexy visions that set my blood afire! (Definitely NOT Safe for Work, but that’s the way I roll!)
I hope you have a wonderful summer filled with sexy, spicy books.
Keep it hot, baby.
PS If you’re a fan of sexy horror, you can preorder a copy of Rising Green, which is coming July 11th from Ellora’s Cave.
Here’s the blurb:
Chaos erupts for the members of a scientific expedition on a remote island in the Pacific when the team’s botanist, Sage Green, is impregnated with the spores of an alien plant form. Sage has always been the crew’s Ice Princess, but now something’s changed. Now, something is driving her, raging through her, compelling her to fuck every man on this desolate rock. She wants nothing more than to fill her every orifice with powerful, protein-rich sperm. Again and again and again.
What the very appreciative men don’t realize is that each illicit interaction, each hedonistic comingling, will take its toll on them as well. Will anyone survive the pleasure?
Monday, May 28, 2012
Thanks so much, Cerise, for your formidable hospitality.
Sometimes love is welcomed with open arms and a big smile, and sometimes… not so much.
Meet Stefan Doffer, a man who unexpectedly falls head over heels in love with another man. There’s just this minor detail of being married and having a family of three small children.
If Unspoken had been situated in modern times, it would be possible to deal with this complicated situation in a nice and civilised manner. It happens often enough individuals discover their true sexual nature at a later age and many gay or bi men are fine parents who stay good friends with their ex-wives.
But, Unspoken is situated in the nineteen-thirties in a Dutch town and Stefan is a jobless working class man. Society isn’t exactly accepting of same-sex attraction and with little money, the possibility of creating a nice little alternative beside the official marriage is also extremely limited.
Staying loyal to both a promise made and to a love that hardly dares to whisper its name isn’t easy…
If you give a reaction to this post, you make a chance to a copy of Unspoken. I do need your e-mail address, however, to send you the e-book.
A short excerpt of Unspoken: (Copyright 2012, R.A. Padmos, All rights reserved.)
Adri put the money into the outstretched hand of the woman. Stefan wanted to snatch the coins back from the pocket of her apron and run away; there was too much unsafe distance between this place and the marital bed he called his own.
She looked sharply at them before she ushered them up the stairs, opened the bedroom door and showed them in. "I want you out within the hour. Your kind doesn't need half that time, so I'm not buying any excuses."
The room had nothing about it worth noticing or mentioning. There was a bed, a chair, a small table with a water jug and bowl. It all looked reasonably clean, although Stefan doubted Marije would agree with him on that. She certainly would have told him to whitewash the ceiling, find some cheap wallpaper, and what could a bit of paint for the door and skirting boards possibly cost if he asked for leftovers?
"I found this place via an acquaintance. One of us, of course. A good address, I promise you." Adri didn't seem to notice Stefan's doubts, but perhaps it was a good address in comparison with a stairwell or a public urinal. "She can get into serious trouble with the police for this; she must really need the money. Or perhaps she's a tough one, who pretends to have no idea what's going on."
"I can't do this. Can we please leave?" Stefan sat on the bed. There was something undeniably dirty about the room, though he doubted it had anything to do with washing soda and soft soap. The thought of undressing to surrender to his lover's caresses seemed unbearable in this environment.
"I know this isn't the bridal suite of a luxury hotel, but they wouldn't accept us anyway. It's this and not much else, if we want to do it laying down from time to time." Adri knelt down and loosened the laces of Stefan's shoes.
Stefan didn't stop him, accepting the facts for what they were.
Adri told him to lay down and started to explore his body as if it was the very first time he had seen Stefan naked. His hands travelled over shoulders, chest, belly, arms and legs like a blind man discovering the reality of a body not his own. He spread his fingers wide to touch as much skin as possible at the same time, kneaded muscles, weighed the scrotum in the palm of his hand, pulled the foreskin down, pressed on the skin between penis and anus, pulled the cheeks apart, pressed a finger inside.
"What are you doing, man?"
"I'm scared as hell I'll forget you," Adri explained, but what was that supposed to mean?
Adri's hands kept on moving and touching. "Don't think about it, redhead."
Unspoken is available at Manifold Press. http://www.manifoldpress.co.uk/2012/04/unspoken/My blog: http://rapadmos.wordpress.com/