Sabrina York will
Push Your Buttons in this hot new release!

Have you ever sat in a really boring meeting at work and
found yourself scribbling idly on a legal pad to keep your brain from numbing
over? Well, that happened to me. What appeared on the page were the bones for a
super hot novella, that became Pushing Her Buttons. Just before the
aforementioned boring meeting, I stepped on the elevator. And the hottest guy
I’d ever seen in my life stepped on behind mer.

Oh heavens. What a thrill. I didn’t make eye contact (of
course), but I watched him in the chrome and my fantasies began to bubble.

The result was my new release, Pushing her Buttons, which comes out on August 22^nd, but
is now available
for preorder on Amazon and Barnes
& Noble. This novella tells the story of a dance between dominant JR
who is determined to seduce Samantha, despite her determination to avoid any
more dark relationships. Most of the seduction takes place in the elevator. JR
looks suspiciously like the dreamy fellow who unknowingly ignited my passion
during a dull elevator rise, and an even duller meeting.

Pushing her Buttons
was the first place winner of the Celtic Hearts Novellas Need Love Too contest
and named the 2011 Distinguished Novella of the year. If you like super hot
sex, domination and kinky play, this one’s for you!

Pushing Her Buttons
by Sabrina York

 Now available for preorder on Amazon
and Barnes
& Noble

Every single day, he’s there. Waiting. Watching her. Closed
in with her for a hundred stories as they ride the elevator to their floor. And
every single day, for a hundred floors, Samantha simmers with banked lust. She
wants him—her mysterious neighbor who seems to get off on tempting her. Whose
eyes promise the kind of kinky domination she’s too afraid to give in to. And
then just when she thinks she’s safe, just when she’s convinced she can resist
his allure, he steps up his relentless pursuit. The passion that flares between
them burns so hot and so bright it could consume them both. But that’s just on
the way up. Who knows what will happen when they’re going down.

Reader Advisory: Samantha’s sexy neighbor tries to drive her
wild with lust, and he’ll stop at nothing to succeed. Spanking? Of course.
Leather straps? You bet. Girl-on-girl action? Oh yeah. Wear your
flame-retardant panties while reading this one.

An Excerpt From:
PUSHING HER BUTTONS

Copyright © SABRINA
YORK, 2012

All Rights Reserved,
Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

 

Chapter One

Wednesday

I
almost got off the elevator when he stepped on, that slick sophisticated
creature oozing with masculinity, the man who haunted my dreams. He could turn
me into a bundle of jangled, weeping nerves with a look.

So I
didn’t look.

This
took some effort.

I
wanted to, was drawn to the energy, the intensity, the heat rolling off him in
waves. Instead I diligently studied the sleek chrome of the elevator doors as
they slid silently shut.

We
were alone, together, in a box. Again. For a hundred floors.

“Going
up?” His voice was a slithering snake, raspy, undulating and smooth.

I
nodded. A short, curt dip of my head.

From
the corner of my eye, I watched as he pressed the button for our floor. His
thumb was long and blunt. He did it slowly, caressing the face. As though
making a promise.

And
all the while, he stared at me. Tracking my every reaction. Taking in the rise
of my breast, the quick dash of my tongue on suddenly dry lips, the quiver of a
lash.

This
unrelenting attention made my skin prickle, my nipples swell.

I
riffled in my purse for a stick of gum. There was no gum but I riffled anyway.

Honestly.
How long could an elevator ride last? I focused on the lights of the header,
ignoring his presence. Desperately trying to, at least, as his searing gaze
lingered and stroked.

I
was managing quite well, thank you very much.

Until
he did it.

He
made a noise I couldn’t ignore. It was something feral, between a grunt and a
moan. A sound a lion might make, unconsciously, distractedly, upon sighting a
particularly juicy gazelle. Or a female in heat.

I
was not a female in heat.

More
than one man had commented on my frigidity. The idiots. My coolness was merely
a reflection of their ineptitude.

This
man was probably not inept. A frightening truth for someone like me.

The
sound, the growl, the urgent hungry groan, washed through me in a vibrating
bass.

I
punched the button for our floor several times in succession. It was a tell and
I knew it, but I couldn’t help myself. Panic rose in my throat as the heat he
sent off swirled around me, sank in and settled in my belly.

His
interest in me had never been a secret. He’d tried flirting and sweet talk,
he’d asked me out more than once but I always shot him down. I knew what kind
of man he was. He had that vibe, that look, that alluring menace.

I
knew what he was, for God’s sake. I could smell it, feel it, taste it. I’d been
there before and sworn I’d never go there again.

Any
woman with a pulse would think him attractive, what with that sable hair
flopping onto his forehead, that square dented chin, that boyish insouciance
belied by a satyr’s smirk. And, ah. Those deep-brown eyes ringed with sinful
sooty lashes. Those exquisitely molded lips. That hard athlete’s physique.

But
not every woman would notice the simmering passion, the sultry sadism that
called to a woman like me. Telegraphed in secret code. Tapping. Tapping on my
nerves.

I
did not want a man like that. Not anymore. A man like that would eat me alive.

Against
my will, I caught a glimpse of his chiseled reflection in the chrome. He’d
opened his suit jacket and tucked his fingers into the front pockets of his
slacks. He leaned like a lazy panther against the mirrored wall and tipped his
head back, studying the ceiling. His long legs were crossed at the ankles,
showcasing immaculate Ferragamos gleaming with a high gloss. A crooked grin
tugged at his luscious lips.

Mercy.
Those lips.

Heat
sizzled through me as I imagined those lips on me, sucking, nuzzling, nipping.

But
that would never happen. He was not my type and I was not his. I wasn’t.

I
told myself to look away but I didn’t do it quickly enough.

He
straightened as we neared our floor. Adjusted his jacket. Shook out his pants.
Raked his thick dark curls…

And
caught my gaze in the mirror. Caught me staring hungrily.

Horrified
by this wash of vulnerability, I turned my head. Our eyes locked again but this
time directly, intimately, across the car. Tangled, tied.

His
body stiffened, nostrils flared, pupils dilated. He leaned slightly, almost
imperceptibly, toward me. His scent, his aura intensified. He held me immobile
by the sheer power of his intent.

And
then he licked his lips.

Something
within me liquefied. My knees went weak and I nearly dropped my briefcase. Who
knows what would have happed, what could have happened, if the elevator hadn’t
opened at just that moment?

The
welcome ding snapped me out of this lazy, hazy daze. I clutched my briefcase to
my chest and rushed through the doors almost before they were open, doing a
determined power walk to my penthouse.

He
followed, slowly stalking. I didn’t hesitate. I waved my keycard over the lock
and slipped inside. To safety.

I
tried not to look back. Really. I did. It was only a quick glance but the sight
of him standing next to his double-doored entrance, pinning me with a
heavy-lidded gaze, rocketed through me like a fist to my solar plexus. There
was heat in his eyes. And hunger. And certainty.

I
shut the door, shutting him out. Shutting it out. He wasn’t my type. I wasn’t
his.

A
man like that could destroy the woman I was, melt the
mask I had worked so hard to forge. I refused to think about him. I refused to
want him.

I
didn’t sleep all night.

 

Connect
with Sabrina!

You can connect with me on Twitter at
@sabrina_york and on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/SabrinaYorkBooks. Of course, you can
always contact me, check out coming books and read more excerpts on my webpage
at www.SabrinaYork.com.