Thank you, Sabrina, for being my first guest! You wear many hats, and I won’t go into all those details, but what keeps you sane in your life?
Writing is one of the toughest careers anyone could choose—though technically, no one chooses it. You’re either bitten by the bug or you’re not. And once you’re bitten, there’s no escape. My favorite writing quote is, “If you can quit writing, you should.” I’ve tried to quit many times, but failed. It’s in my blood.
So what has kept me sane through all the rejections, the critiques, the dark cloud that hovers overhead and rains upon you the suspicion that you’re utterly alone in this? Simply said: My friends. Other writers are the best insulation against the vagaries of the publishing world.
As for the voices in my head…there’s no cure for that! (Thank God!)
What one thing would surprise readers about you, Sabrina York?
My readers probably would not be surprised to learn that I have over a thousand romance novels on the shelves (and yes, in boxes) in my library. I’ve probably read a thousand more. I read voraciously and have studied romance for years.
If they’ve read my books, or visited my Pintrest page (http://pinterest.com/sabrinayork/) they have probably come to the conclusion that sex is all I think about—they’d be surprised to learn it’s not. I am also fascinated by quantum physics, entomology (particularly the sex lives of bugs) and Scotland. As a child, I read the encyclopedia (we had them then) and delighted in learning quirky bits of trivia. I was especially fascinated with historical trivia. And bug trivia.
If you could fall in love with any character, in any book, who would it be?
Well, I have. My first great love was Brandon Birmingham from Kathleen Woodiwiss’ The Flame and the Flower. I don’t know why, looking back, because he was moody and petulant and unrepentantly self-absorbed. Then again, I was moody and petulant and unrepentantly self-absorbed as a teen, so we probably made a good couple. He forms the mold for all my heroes. Although, thankfully, they have matured with me. I think what I loved the most about Brandon was that he was utterly besotted with Heather (Heather being me, of course).
I still dig a dark tormented hero and I really enjoy redeeming them, but now my guys are considerably less misogynistic and they actually have a sense of humor. They share something very important with Brandon, though—an obsession for their heroines.
In my first book, Adam’s Obsession, our hero begins to suspect that the sultry Wildkat he’s been trysting with online may actually be his adorably demure coworker. He becomes obsessed with discovering the truth and seducing her into his bed. Once he does, he has to win her heart as well. His brother Tristan suffers for his love as well in the sequel, Tristan’s Temptation. Poor Tristan is crazy for his secretary, Shannon Weiss, but can’t be with her because he has this steadfast rule against fraternizing with his employees. When Shannon discovers that Tristan—her secret crush—has hot & horny feelings for her, she is determined to seduce him into breaking his rule. Poor Tristan is a hero trapped between a rock and a very hard place. (Check out the excerpt below.)
Folly, my Regency romance coming this summer, follows a similar meme. Ethan Pennington is fixated on the one woman he cannot have—his enemy’s bride. After the bastard dies, Ethan overhears a whispered conversation wherein Eleanor confides she is desperate to produce an heir to secure her future. Ethan is more than happy to oblige. Bu the time he realizes that if he gives her the child she needs, he will lose her, it’s far too late. His heart is lost.
What’s Coming Next?
I am sketching out the plot of a sexy space opera series—kind of Firefly meets Game of Thrones. But right now I am busy working with my editor to finish the six stories I’ve sold. Adam’s Obsession and Tristan’s Temptation are done, but I still have several others to finish before I can dig into the Celadon Galaxy. Here’s a little about them:
■Pushing Her Buttons is a contemporary novella about a woman who is attracted to the very kind of creature she has sworn to avoid—a dominant man. How long can she resist? This story won the 2011 Distinguished Novella Award.
■Rising Green is an erotic horror about a botanist who tangles with a strange (yes, alien) plant on a remote island in the Pacific.
■Folly is one of my favorites—I love Regency romance. In this story our widowed heroine is desperate to get herself with child and our hero—the dead husband’s greatest enemy—is delighted to oblige. He just never suspects the entanglement will cost him his heart.
■I am also working on an as-yet untitled novella about some naughty witches and warlocks for Ellora’s Cave Hex Appeal series.
How Can Readers Find Out More About Sabrina York?
The best way to make sure you don’t miss anything is to sign up for my royal Hotsheet. When I have anything to share about releases or contests, I send out a blurb to subscribers. (Thankfully, I am too busy and too lazy to send you spam. Plus I HATE spam.) Folks who sign up for the newsletters are also entered in my contests, which I offer when the mood strikes. You can sign up on my website at www.sabrinayork.com. While you’re there, you can check out all my covers and read excerpts from coming books.
Also, I love to connect with readers on Facebook (http://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks) or you can follow me on Twitter @sabrina_york. If you are obsessed with Pintrest (like me), check out my page to see what inspires me (http://pinterest.com/sabrinayork/), but make sure you are 18+ first.Keep it hot baby!!
Pintrest (NSFW): http://pinterest.com/sabrinayork/
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.
In this excerpt, Tristan has learned that he and Shannon are neighbors. The knowledge is driving him wild…
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.
NOTE: This excerpt has been edited for public consumption.