Liz Crowe's Blog, page 14
March 31, 2014
How To Lose
Before I go a step further in today's "reflection" post, let me make one thing perfectly, 100% clear:
Yep. I'm one of those….
I'll admit it….
I mean, who doesn't, really?
This past week I had some time to read a bunch of posts people sent me, comparing "succeeding in the publishing world" to "March Madness." The general concept was that no matter how good the good teams are there is always room for Cinderella to crash the ball with her glass slipper and piss all the other girls off.
I am fairly certain that all half dozen of the people who sent me the link to the same post were implying that we (that is to say I) as the "indie author" would be the Cinderella and should keep on plugging.
Because OMGeeee
Unless there are zombies involved. Then it is definitely a sprint.
I get this of course. We all do.
sigh.
But still…you know sometimes? It would be awesomely cool to get rewarded for all the moon-shooting, star landing and….marathoning.
But, as the Sweet 16 in this year's NCAA men's basketball tournament proved, if nothing else, sometimes you will lose.Be it a crucial game...
Or your mind as you try to navigate the roiling waters of "making a living as an author…"
I'm not here being a negative Nancy (I hear you thinking that, so just stop). I am merely taking a moment to acknowledge that losing sucks. Pretending that it makes you stronger, at that moment, is a waste of your energy. Own the loss. Make it yours. When the looooooong email comes from your editor saying, in essence, "you have, like three sentences in this worth saving, now go and re-write it again" you should take a moment to get pissed, defensive, and scream at the computer screen. But once that moment is over…it is over. Time to get to work, damn it. Stop your sniveling.
Go and shoot some free throws because you love the game. Go and write something else for a day, then come back to the email because you love that game.
This is not to claim that you won't be unhappy, nay--furious--when you see that the biggest douche nozzle in three states has just landed a nine and a half figure book deal based off a series of serialized snippets on his blog "WhyI'mAwesome.com." If he can do it, you can.As one of the author/bloggers I love to hate Chuck Wendig said just today:Writers Write. Get the f%$# off the internet and stop whining. Go write"(well, that is how I interpreted what he said, anyways.)
And as another blogger/inspiration Kirsten Lamb said recently: "I was white-knuckled-terrified of failure, of not knowing ALL the answers or being *gasp* WRONG. Every quiet moment was a montage in my mind of how I sucked, how I’d screwed up, how I should’ve could’ve would’ve…."
So which is it? Getting a grip on your inner perfectionist and hog-tying that bitch until she screams for mercy? (no, that is not your next plot bunny, stay with me here).
Marathoning it day in and day out, blinkers on, blind to the successes of the random assholes, douchenozzles and Squee sisters?
Being the constant, consummate social networker, lifting everyone else up while humble-bragging about hitting your "likes" goal?
I guess, after the crushing, gut-wrenching basketball loss my team experienced on Friday night and spending the entire next day pouting (and recovering from a pretty nasty hangover) I can safely say that I'm guessing the players on the Louisville Cardinals team (National Champions 2013) are back on the floor or in the weight room because, you know, they love the game.
…and there is always next year.
Hang in soul mates. I hate marathons myself. But sometimes you gotta train like you're in one….because damn, I hate losing!
And now: promo time!If you are a blogger/reviewer/author with a great blog and want to earn some prizes (as opposed to all the "commenters" earning them) I am hosting a new-fangled sort of BOOK BLAST for the re-release of my novel ESSENCE OF TIME in May.That's right. It's a #hashtag party!$50-100 of Amazon bucks are up for grabs!Please contact Stephanie@tridestinypublishing ASAP to get in on this unique opportunity. The Essence of Time book blast runs May 12-14, 2014.
Yep. I'm one of those….
I'll admit it….
I mean, who doesn't, really?
This past week I had some time to read a bunch of posts people sent me, comparing "succeeding in the publishing world" to "March Madness." The general concept was that no matter how good the good teams are there is always room for Cinderella to crash the ball with her glass slipper and piss all the other girls off.
I am fairly certain that all half dozen of the people who sent me the link to the same post were implying that we (that is to say I) as the "indie author" would be the Cinderella and should keep on plugging.Because OMGeeee
Unless there are zombies involved. Then it is definitely a sprint.I get this of course. We all do.
sigh.
But still…you know sometimes? It would be awesomely cool to get rewarded for all the moon-shooting, star landing and….marathoning.
But, as the Sweet 16 in this year's NCAA men's basketball tournament proved, if nothing else, sometimes you will lose.Be it a crucial game...
Or your mind as you try to navigate the roiling waters of "making a living as an author…" I'm not here being a negative Nancy (I hear you thinking that, so just stop). I am merely taking a moment to acknowledge that losing sucks. Pretending that it makes you stronger, at that moment, is a waste of your energy. Own the loss. Make it yours. When the looooooong email comes from your editor saying, in essence, "you have, like three sentences in this worth saving, now go and re-write it again" you should take a moment to get pissed, defensive, and scream at the computer screen. But once that moment is over…it is over. Time to get to work, damn it. Stop your sniveling.
Go and shoot some free throws because you love the game. Go and write something else for a day, then come back to the email because you love that game.This is not to claim that you won't be unhappy, nay--furious--when you see that the biggest douche nozzle in three states has just landed a nine and a half figure book deal based off a series of serialized snippets on his blog "WhyI'mAwesome.com." If he can do it, you can.As one of the author/bloggers I love to hate Chuck Wendig said just today:Writers Write. Get the f%$# off the internet and stop whining. Go write"(well, that is how I interpreted what he said, anyways.)
And as another blogger/inspiration Kirsten Lamb said recently: "I was white-knuckled-terrified of failure, of not knowing ALL the answers or being *gasp* WRONG. Every quiet moment was a montage in my mind of how I sucked, how I’d screwed up, how I should’ve could’ve would’ve…."
So which is it? Getting a grip on your inner perfectionist and hog-tying that bitch until she screams for mercy? (no, that is not your next plot bunny, stay with me here).
Marathoning it day in and day out, blinkers on, blind to the successes of the random assholes, douchenozzles and Squee sisters?
Being the constant, consummate social networker, lifting everyone else up while humble-bragging about hitting your "likes" goal?
I guess, after the crushing, gut-wrenching basketball loss my team experienced on Friday night and spending the entire next day pouting (and recovering from a pretty nasty hangover) I can safely say that I'm guessing the players on the Louisville Cardinals team (National Champions 2013) are back on the floor or in the weight room because, you know, they love the game.
…and there is always next year.
Hang in soul mates. I hate marathons myself. But sometimes you gotta train like you're in one….because damn, I hate losing!
And now: promo time!If you are a blogger/reviewer/author with a great blog and want to earn some prizes (as opposed to all the "commenters" earning them) I am hosting a new-fangled sort of BOOK BLAST for the re-release of my novel ESSENCE OF TIME in May.That's right. It's a #hashtag party!$50-100 of Amazon bucks are up for grabs!Please contact Stephanie@tridestinypublishing ASAP to get in on this unique opportunity. The Essence of Time book blast runs May 12-14, 2014.
March 26, 2014
Across the Beer Bar with Ciara Knight
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Thanks so much for having me here. It’s a pleasure to hang out with you again. </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Well, you ARE the Beer Wench. ;) What do you recommend? I read your fantastic book, <u>Paradise Hops</u>, so I am craving something original.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Speaking of Paradise Hops, OMG, I’m still aching for your characters. What a story!</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">AW shucks...thanks. I'm pretty proud of that one too. Ok, let's go with our seasonal "Snakes on a Shamrock, Irish Red Lager" ..... </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We met at "romance convention" yet your best selling books (at the moment) are not romance. Tell us about the Neumarian Chronicles series. How did you think of it? Will it continue? </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The Neumarian Chronicles does have romantic elements, but the romance really kicks into high gear between Ryder and Semara in the second book of the series, Pendulum.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The original ‘concept’ came to me while watching the news. It was a report about civil unrest due to unmentionable brutality by a countries leader. I’d always wanted to write a series with more science fiction elements and bring light to a terrible situation. These two meshed to form The Neumarian Chronicles.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Each book is unique. The prequel, Weighted, goes back to a twelve-year-old girl, Raeth, who is tortured for information. This story is about childhood friendships that blossom into greatness. In Escapement, book I, we fast-forward four years to Semara’s sixteenth birthday where she is ordered to sacrifice a slave to take her place on the council. The slave is her childhood friend. This book focuses on the theme of the series, which is to be bold and brave in order to win freedom in life.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Book II, is where the romance heats up and our hero and heroine lead a rebellion against the Queen’s empire. Of course, that is no easy task. During the epic conclusion in book III, Balance, everything comes together in a startling conclusion.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GVB_JEN6yZM..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GVB_JEN6yZM..." height="400" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I hear you have a new novel IS a "contemporary romance." What is it about? Do you have other romance or sexy books that you've released under a different pen name?</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BedAXLuTjWM..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BedAXLuTjWM..." height="400" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I do have a sweet contemporary series out now, <i>Sweetwater County</i>. <u>Winter in Sweetwater County</u> released in January and will be followed by spring, summer and fall. These stories are differ from my normal science fiction/fantasy/paranormal books, but many readers are saying it still has that ‘Defy the Dark’ style.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">whoops! empty glass. what can I get next for you.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Another one of your delicious brews, please!!</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Let's try the Volitionist, our stout lager, in honor of your seasonal series! </span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So you went the self-publishing route with your series, correct? How did you arrive at the decision to do that (because don't you work with a small press as well?)</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I do work as an acquisitions editor for a small press, and I LOVE it. Working with authors, guiding them toward publication is a joy. The ladies at the press house are so awesome. The reason I’m self-publishing at the moment is because I’m a little bit of a control freak. I did the agent thing, and might still go back to it someday, but I’m enjoying where I’m at right now. I’m not a fan of closed doors, I prefer to keep them all wide open.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J8e0RXk4NL4..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J8e0RXk4NL4..." height="400" width="266" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">You are a ton of fun to party with. I had never been to any writer's convention and when I met you (and Hilde, of course, that gal is the bomb) in Gatlinburg the first year I thought you were a blast and this past year we had a great time too. Do you attend a lot of writer conventions? Why or why not?</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Oh my goodness, you are SO the fun one. I had a blast getting to know you that first year. It was a fantastic time.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ve attended several conferences, but with three boys at home my travel time is limited. I’m hitting Romantic Times this year, The Novel Experience and Alabama Phoenix Festival.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And what is your view on the "blog or not to blog" issue? Does it help you sell books or just provide a convenient venting outlet for you?</span></span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I actually shut down my blog recently due to taking on a more vigorous writing schedule. I miss my blogging friends and family, but there just isn’t enough time in the day to do it all. I do post news on the front page of my website, but my blog has been removed for now. Each other is unique, in my situation, I reach more readers via Facebook, Twitter and other social media than my blog.</span><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hPYxuJR7Uwk..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hPYxuJR7Uwk..." height="400" width="275" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><br /><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Ok, nightcap time. What's your poison?</span><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Night cap? Um…I can’t feel my feet right now. LOL, I’m such a light weight. Besides, your brew is too good to pass up. May I have one last one for the road?</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 18.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’ll let you ease on out of here with Bluewater Light, our new light lager (just 92 calories. Just saying).</span><span style="color: red; font-family: Times; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Ciara Knight - Defy the Dark<br />YA Author<br />Visit me at: <a href="http://www.ciaraknight.com/" target="_blank">Blog</a>, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/Ciaraknightw..." target="_blank">Facebook</a>, <a href="https://twitter.com/ciaratknight" target="_blank">Twitter, </a></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/..." target="_blank">Goodreads </a>, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Ciara-Knight/e/..." target="_blank">Amazon</a><br /> <a href="http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_nos..." target="_blank">YA/NA Best-selling Series: The Neumarian Chronicles</a><br />Sweet Contemporary Romance: Sweetwater County<br /><br /> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size: large;">MY REVIEW of ESCAPEMENT (book 1 of the Neumerian Chronicles): </span><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb9Vsl95N4Q..." imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Qb9Vsl95N4Q..." height="132" width="200" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">A "5 LAGER" READ</span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">I will state up front that I am not a fan (in general) of the "steampunk" sub genre but I was intrigued by the concept of this novel and since I was hosting Ciara on my Across the Beer Bar with Liz interview series I wanted to have a sense of where she was coming from with this series.<br /><br />The story arc begins quickly and moves fast, faster and fastest, and the world starts building for the reader right away. It's chock full of alien creatures, a new language,odd (to me) machinations about body parts and all sorts of steampunk style elements. But at its heart the novel is about a brave young woman (Semara) who is finally able to look her evil mother in the eye (more or less) and say "Nope, this is not my life."<br /><br />Of course, that sort of complicates things as the young woman in question is being used as a political pawn by her mother the Queen and is slated to be married off to a real nasty dude of a general.<br /><br />That sets up a real thrill ride of an escape. Along with a girl she nearly killed once before AND the girl's hunky, conflicted, broody, arrogant older brother, Semara (the princess) gets knocked down literally and figuratively over and over again, only to leap back to her feet, ready for more. Things progress as you might expect between Semara and the hero but all around their slightly rushed romance is a ton of amazing adventure. With every page turn I encountered the sort of world-building creativity that I really admired.<br /><br />I highly recommend this book for anyone who enjoys super (duper) fast-paced narrative in a sci-fi, steampunk or fantasy genre--and note that there is definitely an element of romance I expect that will be further explored in the next book.<br /><br />One of my favorite things about this book is its gloriously rendered cover. It says a lot about how Semara is trapped within her life and her body, that has just begun to mature in the usual way but also in a scary, powerful other way. The subtle colors and light say so much about what is contained within it.<br /><br />Well done Ms. Knight.</span><br /><br />I gotta get me some of these: <br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yO5PxdCftGo..." imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yO5PxdCftGo..." height="210" width="320" /></a></div><br /></div>
March 23, 2014
Wrong Place. Wrong Time. The FREE Saga Continues
Welcome back….
Three words for you:
Who's playing whom?
catch up on our saga of international, sexy intrigue here with these click-able links:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
And now….in an entirely unsuitable for work new installment allow me to present...
Chapter 7
The following morning Alex stood, clutching her first cup of coffee, staring dumbfounded at the images unfolding on her computer screen. Jay had barged into her office without bothering to let her know he was coming within seconds of her regular, seven thirty arrival, startling her with the intensity in his gaze. “What?” She’d asked, once she’d gathered her wits back around her. Did he know? Had he found the tracking device on his phone? Lucas was on Jay’s heels, tablet in hand, hair still wet from a shower. Alex resisted to impulse to close her eyes at the sight of him, the memory of his lips on hers had haunted her entire, long day alone just yesterday. He was so…perfect. So perfectly young and so very much not for you good god get a grip.Jay’s clipped words broke through her fog of unrequited, inappropriate lust. “Turn on the news. Now.”“Oh, um…” She glanced over his blue-suited shoulder and caught Lucas’ eye. He gave her a quick shake of his head, indicating that he didn’t know any more than she did. “Sure.” She fired up the huge screen and found the television news channel.The talking heads looked worried. She made herself focus on them and what they were saying and not on how close Lucas stood to her—so close she could smell soap from his skin and hear his breathing, which for some reason made her feel calm.“In a shocking move, the Turkish government has shut down a popular social networking site today, promising that it would remain inaccessible to those wishing to undermine their authority with anything resembling an “Arab Spring” style uprising.”She frowned, trying to process what was not being said. A reporter appeared, standing in front of the Turkish parliamentary building in Ankara. She was surrounded by yelling protestors. “The Prime Minister is locked away, unwilling to answer media questions but one this is certain, shutting down access to a major social networking site may have been a mistake, if the response on the street is any indication. Information provided by a non-governmental source hints that many American-based companies are being notified that their internal servers are also under scrutiny thanks to their close ties with the American military. Some of the companies in question include …”But Alexa had stopped listening and had taken the tablet Lucas had handed her, which was already showing her private, highly encrypted set of passwords and server addresses. Tate Lincoln spent the GDP of a small country’s worth on privacy protection, thanks to their close relationships with the Air Force and she had put the entire thing in motion, once their lucrative contracts had been signed. She watched, eyes flickering down the always moving screen. Passwords were reset every seventeen minutes, twenty-fours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year. The sort of research being conducted in the four labs around the world were of the highest secrecy. It was her job to make sure they stayed that way.Lucas pulled up another screen on her laptop that was open on her desk, clicking through emails until he found what he was looking for. Without a word, he took the tablet, then pulled out her chair so she could sit and read what he had pulled up on the screen below the large one still spouting alarming words about “international companies under government scrutiny.” The message was from the highest authority possible, from her NGO contact in D.C. “Based on the recent events in Turkey, we have initiated the following protocols.” It went on to list several steps she had to take to undertake a massive data dumping project that made her blow out a breath of air. Her temples started pounding as she scrolled down the list.“Je-sus,” Lucas said near her ear. She turned, disconcerted by his proximity but realizing he knew exactly how much work they were staring at. Work that needed to begin now. “So,” Jay said from across the desk.Alex looked up at him, surprised to hear his voice. “Oh, sorry,” she said, running a shaking hand down her face. The convolutions were dizzying. He looked positively wigged out right then. She tried to parse his expression. “So,” he said again. “Can you tell me how this is going to effect us, in real time?” He had his phone out and was looking down at it. Alex turned and caught Lucas’ gaze. “Yes, well, according to the email from D.C. I have to starting dumping things off our servers, ASAP.”“Things, like what, exactly?” Jay kept his eyes trained on his phone.Alexa felt Lucas’ hand on her shoulder, pressing down, trying to tell her something. “Like all communications with the Air Force for starters, plus the research data that we collect on the main servers downstairs. Then they want a full purge of the intracompany network—all of it. And we are to tell employees to dump their online profiles.”He glanced up at her. “Wow,” he said before sticking his phone in his pocket. At that moment, Alexa glanced at her laptop screen on instinct. She saw the little stickie note Lucas must have put there in the last few seconds. “Lean back into me. He needs to think we’re together,” it said. She took a long breath and settled back into her seat, staring at Jay while Lucas’ hand rested on her shoulder in an entirely unprofessional, inappropriate way. Jay’s eyes narrowed at the sight in a way so utterly predictable it depressed her. “Wow,” he repeated taking a step towards her desk, his alpha male feathers fully ruffled now. “I have my talking points. I’ll be making an intracompany video announcement in about twenty minutes, once the PR flaks get the speech ready. What I really want to know is this…” He settled onto the corner of her desk, staring them down. She felt Lucas’ hand press harder, calming her as if he realized she was about to leap up and put distance between them. She recognized the set of her boss’s jaw well, had seen it plenty of times. “What,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “What do you need to know?”Jay stayed quiet, studying whatever bizarre tableau she and Lucas presented. At that moment, her office door opened, revealing Ebru clutching a tablet. Lucas took his hand off her shoulder at the sight. Jay raised an eyebrow. Alexa frowned. They froze like this, Alexa never more aware of the strange dynamic between the four of them.“Excuse me,” Ebru said, breaking the moment. Alexa blinked. Jay stood back up and shot his cuffs. “I thought I should show you some of the stuff going on in the social media-sphere…sort of, relative to us?” Her huge eyes looked bigger behind the snazzy glasses. “Uh, sorry to interrupt?” Her voice raised in question. Alexa didn’t miss the way the other woman’s sharp gaze shot over her shoulder, then narrowed at the sight of Lucas standing so close to her chair. “Well, I have to go deal with this,” Jay said, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll be in my office. Alex, can you join me in a few? We need to…reconvene.” And with that he was gone, leaving Ebru standing open-mouthed in the doorway and Alexa sitting, sweaty and confused at her desk.
Lucas stood in the hall, watching staff scurry around, everyone keeping their heads down. He took a long breath, squared his shoulders, smiled at a few of the women who shot him sidelong glances. He felt buzzy, addled by what he was trying to do combined with what the real world had decided to toss at them. His phone was blowing up with texts from Ebru. After the strangeness of the morning’s news flash and encounter in Alexa’s office, he’d sensed how distinctly not happy she’d been. And that realization alone had freaked him out so much he’d hardly been able to focus on Alexa and the task they had at hand. He’d been a twitchy mess, truth be told, even through the last nearly ten hours of work to follow the U.S. military ordered data and info dump from their massive servers. Since when was he so in tune to a woman’s vibe? Seriously. It confused him, kept him on edge and unable to fulfill the whole charade of being a couple with Alexa so as to tug the big boss into revealing his hand. He needed space. Hence, he was out here, taking long, deep breaths of air that he did not have to share with Alexa. She’d been like a demon on a mission ever since the morning’s news, which had steadily progressed downward throughout the day. They’d done the required data purge which had taken the better part of three hours, given the amount of shit that resided on their server connected to the U.S. Air Force. About half way through that exercise, Lucas had leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms over his head. “Why are we doing this. I mean, why not the department of fifty or so flunkies you have just overhead?” he’d asked.She’d looked up from her intent study of her computer screen and glared at him long enough to make him feel about three feet tall. “Because,” she’d said, then held up her empty coffee cup and resumed her work at the servers. He’d gotten her more coffee as an excuse to be the hell away from her. The damn Turkish government had impeccable timing that much was sure. He needed to ramp up the “fool the CEO into thinking his fuck buddy CIO was screwing her assistant” farce. He needed answers in order to maintain the veracity of his job here. But he couldn’t ignore the tenor of the messages he’d been getting all day from the mother ship back in Virginia. Once foreign governments got involved, typically he’d be called home to roost. But he was not done here—for a lot of reasons and on a lot of levels. After a few minutes, he felt prepared to face Ebru so he took the elevator down to her floor, disembarked and walked into the glass enclosed supplier relations department that she ruled. After a few minutes staring around at the controlled chaos, he spotted her at the far end of the room near her private office, tearing some hapless dude several new assholes. He smiled at the sight. Okay Cameron. Focus. This is not what you want. Alexa is…But at that moment she turned and fixed her dark gaze on him. Lucas Cameron had never in his entire adult, sexually active life felt as he did at that moment—the week-kneed, utterly bizarre sensation that tore through him when she raised an eyebrow, then crooked her finger and jerked her chin towards her office door made a cold sweat break out on every inch of his skin. Thankful to the gods of good timing for an excuse to have his shirttail pulled out over the waistband of his dress trousers, he took a breath and made his way towards the open door she indicated.Once inside, he turned, opened his mouth to say something innocuous and had to grip the back of a conveniently placed chair at the sight of her. She stood, back to the now closed office door, perfection on two legs. Her dark eyes snapped with what he assumed was lust, or jealousy. But the body he knew well was barely encased in a bright white blouse that dipped low enough to reveal her ample cleavage. The midnight blue skirt encircled her hips, caressing them, and ended well above her bare knees. He sucked in a breath and knew in an instant that she was bare underneath. “I don’t share.” Her voice was low, rough, sexy. He closed his eyes and tried to deny the power in those three words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He continued to white-knuckle the chair back. He heard the distinct sound of a lock shooting home. His vision started to fuzz over, then snapped into crystal clear focus as she strode over to him on her sky-high heels, the sway of her hips mesmerizing him even as he took steps away until his ass hit the ledge of a window. She stopped, the tips of her breasts grazing his chest, her full, dark lips centimeters from his. When she touched the edge of his jaw with a fingertip he heard someone groan. By the time he realized it had come from him, he had her in his arms, had his tongue shoved into her mouth, was lifting her up, setting her on the desk.“Yes,” she hissed, gripping his ass. “Now I think you understand.”Alexa, his brain screamed at him. Get back to Alexa. Get on with this thing you’re doing. Help her.“Fuck,” he mumbled as she yanked his zipper down and fisted his cock. “Ebru…I’m…oh Christ,” he moaned as she threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled hard. The hand gripping his dick tightened at the same time, sending a spiral of pain and fear up his spine to his brain, which intercepted it with a burst of pure, visceral pleasure. “You…can’t…”She held him, stroked him, and when he was on the ragged edge, his every nerve ending singing with a confused muddle of pain and ecstasy at her manipulation of his most sensitive parts, she stopped. Breaking their frantic tongue tangling kiss, she let go of him and shoved him away so hard he stumbled back and had to sit, lest he fall. So he sat, chest heaving, dick exposed, staring at her as she shifted, lifted her skirt to expose her bare pussy to his gaze. She touched herself, never taking her eyes from his. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the office outside her door, felt his phone buzz in his pocket, registered the bleep and dings of incoming email and messages and whatever else. But none of it mattered. Nothing mattered but the sound of her voice at that moment. He stayed seated, frozen, aching from head to toe, watching as she spread her legs, then beckoned for him again. “Come over here Lucas. I need you.”He gulped, never hornier in his life, yet torn by the strange urge to zip up and bolt, to get the hell away from her. He glanced up at the ceiling. When a brittle bite of pain shot through him, he grunted and looked down to see her pinching him, holding his dick so tight it nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Did you not hear me? Lucas?” Her eyes shone as she leaned down to lick his lower lip then bite on it hard as she released his cock. He had to call on every reserve he had to not blow all over himself right then.What in god’s name was going on here?“I need you Lucas,” she said again, her lilting accent coiling around up in head, making him dizzy. “Come over here.” And she stood, backed up and sat on the desk again. He stood, then dropped to his knees and did as he was told, on a weird sort of auto pilot that kept him going, kept him licking, sucking and drawing orgasms out of her again and again until she yanked him to his feet. “Now,” she growled in his ear, yanking his hair and digging her fingernails into his ass. “Now. Fuck me.”He did and when she finally allowed him to come he nearly passed out. Gasping, trying to collect himself, to get control, he pulled out of her body reluctantly and met her gaze. “Wow,” he said, lamely but unable to conjure anything more cogent. “I, um, well…” She laughed low in her throat and grabbed tissues from a box on her desk. He zipped up, shaking so hard he had to sit again. He closed his eyes, trying to re-focus, to come to terms with what he’d just allowed to happen. When pain sliced through his thigh, he opened his eyes and saw her stiletto-heeled foot digging in, piercing the fabric of his trousers. Perversely, it made his lizard brain buzz with inexplicable, renewed horniness. He stared at it, hypnotized, his body frozen, his mind spinning.She pressed in harder. He touched her foot, slid his hand up her smooth, dark skinned calf and thigh, finding the moisture under her skirt, smelling her, smelling himself. “I don’t share,” she insisted, giving him a déjà vu moment. “Lucas.” Her voice dropped a bit. “You’re mine. Not hers.”He nodded, and kept his hand moving until he cupped her bare, moist sex. She threaded her fingers in his hair again, making him wince from the pain she’d already bestowed there, her hips moving forward, encouraging him. Then, as soon as she’d pounced, she backed away, smiling, straightening her skirt and blouse. Lucas thought he very well might explode from lust.“Go,” she said, waving to the door. “I’m done. But when I call or text, you’d better be quicker next time.” She leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. He grabbed for her, desperate and pissed off. She bit down on his lower lip again, this time hard enough to make him cry out. “Go, I said.” She stood and walked behind her desk, staring down at her computer screen.He stared at her a full minute, confused, embarrassed and wanting nothing more than to lick his way up her shoes, her legs, her... He cleared his throat, hoping he could rally and act like a man and not a sniveling loser. “I’ll call you soon,” she said. “Be ready.”After a few minutes of silence, punctuated by her tap-tapping away at her keyboard, she looked up, glasses back in place. “Why are you still here, Lucas?”The way she said his name—like a curse and a caress all at once—made him grip the chair arms. He rose, turned and unlocked her door. Just as he was making his wobbly way out, she spoke.“You understand this, right? You are mine.”He blinked, nodded and then left shutting the door behind him. His pocket buzzed for the millionth time. As he tugged his phone out and tried to calm his clanging brain, he had one, distinct thought—this was about to get way more complicated than he had expected. Because while he may have a crush on his boss, the lovely, elusive, mysterious, powerful Alexa, if he did not get to go back and service the enticing Ebru soon, he would be one very unhappy man.He looked at the phone screen. “Where the hell are you?” Alexa had messaged him twice in the last hour while he was happily occupied. “Get back up here. Jay’s been in and out. We need our cover.”He put a hand over his eyes and cursed himself, hearing Ebru’s voice, her words and commands. As he held the phone, it buzzed again. Glancing down he could barely repress a wicked smile at the text message from the woman who stood not five feet from him, just inside her office door.
“I have a set of nice, soft ropes with your name on them Lucas. I’m bringing them tonight. Make sure you are alone and have ice cold vodka and a bowl of strawberries ready for me.”
Three words for you:
Who's playing whom?
catch up on our saga of international, sexy intrigue here with these click-able links:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
And now….in an entirely unsuitable for work new installment allow me to present...
Chapter 7
The following morning Alex stood, clutching her first cup of coffee, staring dumbfounded at the images unfolding on her computer screen. Jay had barged into her office without bothering to let her know he was coming within seconds of her regular, seven thirty arrival, startling her with the intensity in his gaze. “What?” She’d asked, once she’d gathered her wits back around her. Did he know? Had he found the tracking device on his phone? Lucas was on Jay’s heels, tablet in hand, hair still wet from a shower. Alex resisted to impulse to close her eyes at the sight of him, the memory of his lips on hers had haunted her entire, long day alone just yesterday. He was so…perfect. So perfectly young and so very much not for you good god get a grip.Jay’s clipped words broke through her fog of unrequited, inappropriate lust. “Turn on the news. Now.”“Oh, um…” She glanced over his blue-suited shoulder and caught Lucas’ eye. He gave her a quick shake of his head, indicating that he didn’t know any more than she did. “Sure.” She fired up the huge screen and found the television news channel.The talking heads looked worried. She made herself focus on them and what they were saying and not on how close Lucas stood to her—so close she could smell soap from his skin and hear his breathing, which for some reason made her feel calm.“In a shocking move, the Turkish government has shut down a popular social networking site today, promising that it would remain inaccessible to those wishing to undermine their authority with anything resembling an “Arab Spring” style uprising.”She frowned, trying to process what was not being said. A reporter appeared, standing in front of the Turkish parliamentary building in Ankara. She was surrounded by yelling protestors. “The Prime Minister is locked away, unwilling to answer media questions but one this is certain, shutting down access to a major social networking site may have been a mistake, if the response on the street is any indication. Information provided by a non-governmental source hints that many American-based companies are being notified that their internal servers are also under scrutiny thanks to their close ties with the American military. Some of the companies in question include …”But Alexa had stopped listening and had taken the tablet Lucas had handed her, which was already showing her private, highly encrypted set of passwords and server addresses. Tate Lincoln spent the GDP of a small country’s worth on privacy protection, thanks to their close relationships with the Air Force and she had put the entire thing in motion, once their lucrative contracts had been signed. She watched, eyes flickering down the always moving screen. Passwords were reset every seventeen minutes, twenty-fours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year. The sort of research being conducted in the four labs around the world were of the highest secrecy. It was her job to make sure they stayed that way.Lucas pulled up another screen on her laptop that was open on her desk, clicking through emails until he found what he was looking for. Without a word, he took the tablet, then pulled out her chair so she could sit and read what he had pulled up on the screen below the large one still spouting alarming words about “international companies under government scrutiny.” The message was from the highest authority possible, from her NGO contact in D.C. “Based on the recent events in Turkey, we have initiated the following protocols.” It went on to list several steps she had to take to undertake a massive data dumping project that made her blow out a breath of air. Her temples started pounding as she scrolled down the list.“Je-sus,” Lucas said near her ear. She turned, disconcerted by his proximity but realizing he knew exactly how much work they were staring at. Work that needed to begin now. “So,” Jay said from across the desk.Alex looked up at him, surprised to hear his voice. “Oh, sorry,” she said, running a shaking hand down her face. The convolutions were dizzying. He looked positively wigged out right then. She tried to parse his expression. “So,” he said again. “Can you tell me how this is going to effect us, in real time?” He had his phone out and was looking down at it. Alex turned and caught Lucas’ gaze. “Yes, well, according to the email from D.C. I have to starting dumping things off our servers, ASAP.”“Things, like what, exactly?” Jay kept his eyes trained on his phone.Alexa felt Lucas’ hand on her shoulder, pressing down, trying to tell her something. “Like all communications with the Air Force for starters, plus the research data that we collect on the main servers downstairs. Then they want a full purge of the intracompany network—all of it. And we are to tell employees to dump their online profiles.”He glanced up at her. “Wow,” he said before sticking his phone in his pocket. At that moment, Alexa glanced at her laptop screen on instinct. She saw the little stickie note Lucas must have put there in the last few seconds. “Lean back into me. He needs to think we’re together,” it said. She took a long breath and settled back into her seat, staring at Jay while Lucas’ hand rested on her shoulder in an entirely unprofessional, inappropriate way. Jay’s eyes narrowed at the sight in a way so utterly predictable it depressed her. “Wow,” he repeated taking a step towards her desk, his alpha male feathers fully ruffled now. “I have my talking points. I’ll be making an intracompany video announcement in about twenty minutes, once the PR flaks get the speech ready. What I really want to know is this…” He settled onto the corner of her desk, staring them down. She felt Lucas’ hand press harder, calming her as if he realized she was about to leap up and put distance between them. She recognized the set of her boss’s jaw well, had seen it plenty of times. “What,” she said, keeping her voice neutral. “What do you need to know?”Jay stayed quiet, studying whatever bizarre tableau she and Lucas presented. At that moment, her office door opened, revealing Ebru clutching a tablet. Lucas took his hand off her shoulder at the sight. Jay raised an eyebrow. Alexa frowned. They froze like this, Alexa never more aware of the strange dynamic between the four of them.“Excuse me,” Ebru said, breaking the moment. Alexa blinked. Jay stood back up and shot his cuffs. “I thought I should show you some of the stuff going on in the social media-sphere…sort of, relative to us?” Her huge eyes looked bigger behind the snazzy glasses. “Uh, sorry to interrupt?” Her voice raised in question. Alexa didn’t miss the way the other woman’s sharp gaze shot over her shoulder, then narrowed at the sight of Lucas standing so close to her chair. “Well, I have to go deal with this,” Jay said, his eyes never leaving hers. “I’ll be in my office. Alex, can you join me in a few? We need to…reconvene.” And with that he was gone, leaving Ebru standing open-mouthed in the doorway and Alexa sitting, sweaty and confused at her desk.
Lucas stood in the hall, watching staff scurry around, everyone keeping their heads down. He took a long breath, squared his shoulders, smiled at a few of the women who shot him sidelong glances. He felt buzzy, addled by what he was trying to do combined with what the real world had decided to toss at them. His phone was blowing up with texts from Ebru. After the strangeness of the morning’s news flash and encounter in Alexa’s office, he’d sensed how distinctly not happy she’d been. And that realization alone had freaked him out so much he’d hardly been able to focus on Alexa and the task they had at hand. He’d been a twitchy mess, truth be told, even through the last nearly ten hours of work to follow the U.S. military ordered data and info dump from their massive servers. Since when was he so in tune to a woman’s vibe? Seriously. It confused him, kept him on edge and unable to fulfill the whole charade of being a couple with Alexa so as to tug the big boss into revealing his hand. He needed space. Hence, he was out here, taking long, deep breaths of air that he did not have to share with Alexa. She’d been like a demon on a mission ever since the morning’s news, which had steadily progressed downward throughout the day. They’d done the required data purge which had taken the better part of three hours, given the amount of shit that resided on their server connected to the U.S. Air Force. About half way through that exercise, Lucas had leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms over his head. “Why are we doing this. I mean, why not the department of fifty or so flunkies you have just overhead?” he’d asked.She’d looked up from her intent study of her computer screen and glared at him long enough to make him feel about three feet tall. “Because,” she’d said, then held up her empty coffee cup and resumed her work at the servers. He’d gotten her more coffee as an excuse to be the hell away from her. The damn Turkish government had impeccable timing that much was sure. He needed to ramp up the “fool the CEO into thinking his fuck buddy CIO was screwing her assistant” farce. He needed answers in order to maintain the veracity of his job here. But he couldn’t ignore the tenor of the messages he’d been getting all day from the mother ship back in Virginia. Once foreign governments got involved, typically he’d be called home to roost. But he was not done here—for a lot of reasons and on a lot of levels. After a few minutes, he felt prepared to face Ebru so he took the elevator down to her floor, disembarked and walked into the glass enclosed supplier relations department that she ruled. After a few minutes staring around at the controlled chaos, he spotted her at the far end of the room near her private office, tearing some hapless dude several new assholes. He smiled at the sight. Okay Cameron. Focus. This is not what you want. Alexa is…But at that moment she turned and fixed her dark gaze on him. Lucas Cameron had never in his entire adult, sexually active life felt as he did at that moment—the week-kneed, utterly bizarre sensation that tore through him when she raised an eyebrow, then crooked her finger and jerked her chin towards her office door made a cold sweat break out on every inch of his skin. Thankful to the gods of good timing for an excuse to have his shirttail pulled out over the waistband of his dress trousers, he took a breath and made his way towards the open door she indicated.Once inside, he turned, opened his mouth to say something innocuous and had to grip the back of a conveniently placed chair at the sight of her. She stood, back to the now closed office door, perfection on two legs. Her dark eyes snapped with what he assumed was lust, or jealousy. But the body he knew well was barely encased in a bright white blouse that dipped low enough to reveal her ample cleavage. The midnight blue skirt encircled her hips, caressing them, and ended well above her bare knees. He sucked in a breath and knew in an instant that she was bare underneath. “I don’t share.” Her voice was low, rough, sexy. He closed his eyes and tried to deny the power in those three words. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He continued to white-knuckle the chair back. He heard the distinct sound of a lock shooting home. His vision started to fuzz over, then snapped into crystal clear focus as she strode over to him on her sky-high heels, the sway of her hips mesmerizing him even as he took steps away until his ass hit the ledge of a window. She stopped, the tips of her breasts grazing his chest, her full, dark lips centimeters from his. When she touched the edge of his jaw with a fingertip he heard someone groan. By the time he realized it had come from him, he had her in his arms, had his tongue shoved into her mouth, was lifting her up, setting her on the desk.“Yes,” she hissed, gripping his ass. “Now I think you understand.”Alexa, his brain screamed at him. Get back to Alexa. Get on with this thing you’re doing. Help her.“Fuck,” he mumbled as she yanked his zipper down and fisted his cock. “Ebru…I’m…oh Christ,” he moaned as she threaded her fingers in his hair and pulled hard. The hand gripping his dick tightened at the same time, sending a spiral of pain and fear up his spine to his brain, which intercepted it with a burst of pure, visceral pleasure. “You…can’t…”She held him, stroked him, and when he was on the ragged edge, his every nerve ending singing with a confused muddle of pain and ecstasy at her manipulation of his most sensitive parts, she stopped. Breaking their frantic tongue tangling kiss, she let go of him and shoved him away so hard he stumbled back and had to sit, lest he fall. So he sat, chest heaving, dick exposed, staring at her as she shifted, lifted her skirt to expose her bare pussy to his gaze. She touched herself, never taking her eyes from his. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the office outside her door, felt his phone buzz in his pocket, registered the bleep and dings of incoming email and messages and whatever else. But none of it mattered. Nothing mattered but the sound of her voice at that moment. He stayed seated, frozen, aching from head to toe, watching as she spread her legs, then beckoned for him again. “Come over here Lucas. I need you.”He gulped, never hornier in his life, yet torn by the strange urge to zip up and bolt, to get the hell away from her. He glanced up at the ceiling. When a brittle bite of pain shot through him, he grunted and looked down to see her pinching him, holding his dick so tight it nearly brought tears to his eyes. “Did you not hear me? Lucas?” Her eyes shone as she leaned down to lick his lower lip then bite on it hard as she released his cock. He had to call on every reserve he had to not blow all over himself right then.What in god’s name was going on here?“I need you Lucas,” she said again, her lilting accent coiling around up in head, making him dizzy. “Come over here.” And she stood, backed up and sat on the desk again. He stood, then dropped to his knees and did as he was told, on a weird sort of auto pilot that kept him going, kept him licking, sucking and drawing orgasms out of her again and again until she yanked him to his feet. “Now,” she growled in his ear, yanking his hair and digging her fingernails into his ass. “Now. Fuck me.”He did and when she finally allowed him to come he nearly passed out. Gasping, trying to collect himself, to get control, he pulled out of her body reluctantly and met her gaze. “Wow,” he said, lamely but unable to conjure anything more cogent. “I, um, well…” She laughed low in her throat and grabbed tissues from a box on her desk. He zipped up, shaking so hard he had to sit again. He closed his eyes, trying to re-focus, to come to terms with what he’d just allowed to happen. When pain sliced through his thigh, he opened his eyes and saw her stiletto-heeled foot digging in, piercing the fabric of his trousers. Perversely, it made his lizard brain buzz with inexplicable, renewed horniness. He stared at it, hypnotized, his body frozen, his mind spinning.She pressed in harder. He touched her foot, slid his hand up her smooth, dark skinned calf and thigh, finding the moisture under her skirt, smelling her, smelling himself. “I don’t share,” she insisted, giving him a déjà vu moment. “Lucas.” Her voice dropped a bit. “You’re mine. Not hers.”He nodded, and kept his hand moving until he cupped her bare, moist sex. She threaded her fingers in his hair again, making him wince from the pain she’d already bestowed there, her hips moving forward, encouraging him. Then, as soon as she’d pounced, she backed away, smiling, straightening her skirt and blouse. Lucas thought he very well might explode from lust.“Go,” she said, waving to the door. “I’m done. But when I call or text, you’d better be quicker next time.” She leaned down and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to his lips. He grabbed for her, desperate and pissed off. She bit down on his lower lip again, this time hard enough to make him cry out. “Go, I said.” She stood and walked behind her desk, staring down at her computer screen.He stared at her a full minute, confused, embarrassed and wanting nothing more than to lick his way up her shoes, her legs, her... He cleared his throat, hoping he could rally and act like a man and not a sniveling loser. “I’ll call you soon,” she said. “Be ready.”After a few minutes of silence, punctuated by her tap-tapping away at her keyboard, she looked up, glasses back in place. “Why are you still here, Lucas?”The way she said his name—like a curse and a caress all at once—made him grip the chair arms. He rose, turned and unlocked her door. Just as he was making his wobbly way out, she spoke.“You understand this, right? You are mine.”He blinked, nodded and then left shutting the door behind him. His pocket buzzed for the millionth time. As he tugged his phone out and tried to calm his clanging brain, he had one, distinct thought—this was about to get way more complicated than he had expected. Because while he may have a crush on his boss, the lovely, elusive, mysterious, powerful Alexa, if he did not get to go back and service the enticing Ebru soon, he would be one very unhappy man.He looked at the phone screen. “Where the hell are you?” Alexa had messaged him twice in the last hour while he was happily occupied. “Get back up here. Jay’s been in and out. We need our cover.”He put a hand over his eyes and cursed himself, hearing Ebru’s voice, her words and commands. As he held the phone, it buzzed again. Glancing down he could barely repress a wicked smile at the text message from the woman who stood not five feet from him, just inside her office door.
“I have a set of nice, soft ropes with your name on them Lucas. I’m bringing them tonight. Make sure you are alone and have ice cold vodka and a bowl of strawberries ready for me.”
March 18, 2014
Shadows of Damascus: A Virtual Book Tour
I'm excited to host a stop on this tour today. This book sounds fascinating to me!
Shadows of Damascusby Lilas Taha
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Debt. Honor. Pain. Solitude. These are things wounded war veteran Adam Wegener knows all about. Love—now, that he is not good at. Not when love equals a closed fist, burns, and suicide attempts. But Adam is one who keeps his word. He owes the man who saved his life in Iraq. And he doesn’t question the measure of the debt, even when it is in the form of an emotionally distant, beautiful woman.
Yasmeen agreed to become the wife of an American veteran so she could flee persecution in war-torn Syria. She counted on being in the United States for a short stay until she could return home. There was one thing she did not count on: wanting more.
Is it too late for Adam and Yasmeen?
Shadows of Damascus to be released by Soul Mate Publishing mid January, 2014.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT
PROLOGUEYASMEEN
Damascus, SyriaSummer 2006
The seductive fragrance of Damascus roses drifted through the open window and flirted with fifteen-year-old Yasmeen’s olfactory senses. The potent flowers in her neighbor’s yard delivered the best awakening. She loved beginnings, especially early, mid-summer mornings like these. Stretching across the bed, her imagination raced with possibilities for the promising day.
Thursday. The day her older brother’s friends visited and stayed well into the evening. Yasmeen ticked off potential visitors in her head, dashing young university students who loved to talk politics with Fadi. Today, she would do her best to discover the name of the quietest member in the group, the thin one with round-rimmed glasses. On her nightstand, the sketch she worked on during the last visit waited for his name, and more details around the eyes.
Peeling off the covers, she tip-toed to the window. Lively noises matched her optimistic mood. Nightingales sang greetings. Clanging dishes and pots resonated from surrounding houses beyond high walls. Mothers called out for their daughters to get breakfast ready. Men’s deep voices describing fresh fruits and vegetables with tempting traditional phrases drifted above hidden alleys. One vendor claimed his cucumbers were small as baby fingers, and likened his ripe apples to a virgin bride’s cheeks. Another boasted his plum peaches shed their covers without enticement, and his shy eggplants hid well in a moonless night.
Yasmeen succumbed to the enlivening chaos spilling in from her bedroom window, her own special and personal opening to the world. Tilting her head back, she exposed her face and neck to the sun, allowing its invigorating rays to paint her cheeks.
Today, her mother told her she would be allowed to take a coffee tray into Fadi’s room once all his friends arrived. What would she wear? She should tell her best friend Zainab to stop by earlier than usual to go through her wardrobe. She could help her decide. Perhaps one of Fadi’s friends would notice her. More than one? Why not?
Draping her arms on the windowsill, she looked at the neighbor’s yard, counting the blooming roses, a ritual she performed each morning since the season started. In the north corner of the largest flowerbed, two violet buds grabbed her attention, their delicate petals about to unfold. Once they came to full bloom, their deep purple color would dominate the landscape.
A knock sounded at her door.
“I am awake.”
Her father walked in. “Good. We have work to do.” He held a hammer in one hand and a couple of boards in the other. “Move aside, Yasmeen.” He approached the window.
She stepped away and pointed at the boards. “What do you need those for?”
Her father closed the windowpanes, locked them, placed one board across the frame, and hammered it in place.
“What are you doing?”
“This window is not to be opened again, child.”
She could not believe her ears. “Why?”
“Neighbors moved out last night.” Her father nailed the second board in place. “Mukhabarat took over their house.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Lilas Taha is a writer at heart, an electrical engineer by training, and an advocate for domestic abuse victims by choice. She was born in Kuwait to a Syrian mother and a Palestinian father, and immigrated to the U.S. as a result of the Gulf war in 1990. She earned a master’s degree in Human Factors Engineering from the University of Wisconsin- Madison. There, Lilas met her beloved husband and true friend, and moved with him to Sugar Land, Texas to establish a family. She is the proud mother of a daughter and a son. Instead of working in an industrial field, she applied herself to the field of social safety, working with victims of domestic violence.
Pursuing her true passion for creative writing, Lilas brings her professional interests, and her Middle Eastern background together in her debut fictional novel, Shadows of Damascus.
Website: www.lilastaha.comAuthor Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/LilasTahaAuthorBlog: http://lilastaha.blogspot.comTwitter: Follow @LilasTaha https://twitter.com/LilasTahaLinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/lilastahaEmail: info@lilastaha.comGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Lilas_TahaFacebook page for the book: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Shadows-of-Damascus
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Shadows-Damascus-Lilas-Taha-ebook/dp/B00HUZUG8Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389749986&sr=8-1&keywords=Shadows+of+Damascus
Publisher: http://www.soulmatepublishing.com/
And now for the contest! Click here to go to the Rafflecopter Entry portal.
Shadows of Damascusby Lilas Taha
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
Debt. Honor. Pain. Solitude. These are things wounded war veteran Adam Wegener knows all about. Love—now, that he is not good at. Not when love equals a closed fist, burns, and suicide attempts. But Adam is one who keeps his word. He owes the man who saved his life in Iraq. And he doesn’t question the measure of the debt, even when it is in the form of an emotionally distant, beautiful woman.
Yasmeen agreed to become the wife of an American veteran so she could flee persecution in war-torn Syria. She counted on being in the United States for a short stay until she could return home. There was one thing she did not count on: wanting more.
Is it too late for Adam and Yasmeen?
Shadows of Damascus to be released by Soul Mate Publishing mid January, 2014.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
EXCERPT
PROLOGUEYASMEEN
Damascus, SyriaSummer 2006
The seductive fragrance of Damascus roses drifted through the open window and flirted with fifteen-year-old Yasmeen’s olfactory senses. The potent flowers in her neighbor’s yard delivered the best awakening. She loved beginnings, especially early, mid-summer mornings like these. Stretching across the bed, her imagination raced with possibilities for the promising day.
Thursday. The day her older brother’s friends visited and stayed well into the evening. Yasmeen ticked off potential visitors in her head, dashing young university students who loved to talk politics with Fadi. Today, she would do her best to discover the name of the quietest member in the group, the thin one with round-rimmed glasses. On her nightstand, the sketch she worked on during the last visit waited for his name, and more details around the eyes.
Peeling off the covers, she tip-toed to the window. Lively noises matched her optimistic mood. Nightingales sang greetings. Clanging dishes and pots resonated from surrounding houses beyond high walls. Mothers called out for their daughters to get breakfast ready. Men’s deep voices describing fresh fruits and vegetables with tempting traditional phrases drifted above hidden alleys. One vendor claimed his cucumbers were small as baby fingers, and likened his ripe apples to a virgin bride’s cheeks. Another boasted his plum peaches shed their covers without enticement, and his shy eggplants hid well in a moonless night.
Yasmeen succumbed to the enlivening chaos spilling in from her bedroom window, her own special and personal opening to the world. Tilting her head back, she exposed her face and neck to the sun, allowing its invigorating rays to paint her cheeks.
Today, her mother told her she would be allowed to take a coffee tray into Fadi’s room once all his friends arrived. What would she wear? She should tell her best friend Zainab to stop by earlier than usual to go through her wardrobe. She could help her decide. Perhaps one of Fadi’s friends would notice her. More than one? Why not?
Draping her arms on the windowsill, she looked at the neighbor’s yard, counting the blooming roses, a ritual she performed each morning since the season started. In the north corner of the largest flowerbed, two violet buds grabbed her attention, their delicate petals about to unfold. Once they came to full bloom, their deep purple color would dominate the landscape.
A knock sounded at her door.
“I am awake.”
Her father walked in. “Good. We have work to do.” He held a hammer in one hand and a couple of boards in the other. “Move aside, Yasmeen.” He approached the window.
She stepped away and pointed at the boards. “What do you need those for?”
Her father closed the windowpanes, locked them, placed one board across the frame, and hammered it in place.
“What are you doing?”
“This window is not to be opened again, child.”
She could not believe her ears. “Why?”
“Neighbors moved out last night.” Her father nailed the second board in place. “Mukhabarat took over their house.”
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Lilas Taha is a writer at heart, an electrical engineer by training, and an advocate for domestic abuse victims by choice. She was born in Kuwait to a Syrian mother and a Palestinian father, and immigrated to the U.S. as a result of the Gulf war in 1990. She earned a master’s degree in Human Factors Engineering from the University of Wisconsin- Madison. There, Lilas met her beloved husband and true friend, and moved with him to Sugar Land, Texas to establish a family. She is the proud mother of a daughter and a son. Instead of working in an industrial field, she applied herself to the field of social safety, working with victims of domestic violence.
Pursuing her true passion for creative writing, Lilas brings her professional interests, and her Middle Eastern background together in her debut fictional novel, Shadows of Damascus.
Website: www.lilastaha.comAuthor Facebook Page: www.facebook.com/LilasTahaAuthorBlog: http://lilastaha.blogspot.comTwitter: Follow @LilasTaha https://twitter.com/LilasTahaLinkedIn: http://www.linkedin.com/in/lilastahaEmail: info@lilastaha.comGoodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/Lilas_TahaFacebook page for the book: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Shadows-of-Damascus
Buy Links:
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Shadows-Damascus-Lilas-Taha-ebook/dp/B00HUZUG8Y/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389749986&sr=8-1&keywords=Shadows+of+Damascus
Publisher: http://www.soulmatepublishing.com/
And now for the contest! Click here to go to the Rafflecopter Entry portal.
More Liz Books ON SALE!
March 11, 2014
A Bitter Pill
My writing journey has not been as long as some. I was not the earnest college student on the MFA track. I don't have a stack of notebooks filled with a lifetime of story ideas.
I mean, I've had a few "ideas" every now than then because I am a completely voracious reader/listener and have always been. There is a family joke/urban legend about me on my hands and knees in the Tarry family sustenance garden, weeding --- and reading (or at least holding a book).
I would consider myself first and foremost a reader. When I caught the "bug" to write it was at a strange period of my life. I was busy with a successful real estate career, had 3 active and somewhat oversubscribed kids, 2 large dogs, a house, and what not. I also had a 15-year marriage (to a man I'd been "with" for 25 years) in a bit of a low ebb, heat-wise. You know what I'm talking about here. The zing was gone and we were left staring at each other over the morning coffee or turning away from each other at night with not much in between.
It happens to busy, driven people like ourselves.
Then, he got proactive and did some research, knowing my preference for the written word and a box from Amazon showed up at my house full of books I had never heard of with dubious sounding titles to my English Lit Degree programmed brain. I read them, found about half of them worthwhile and I literally concocted a couple of potential characters while I was sitting at an empty Open House one Sunday.
I sat down, and started crafting their story. "They" are now the "almost famous" couple Jack and Sara from the Stewart Realty series. The writing of their story was a tale of disappointments for me on many levels. Based on some of the books I read early on I figured it was a sort 'any old thing gets published' atmosphere. I learned otherwise, mainly because I chose the more traditional route of agent and publisher submission vs. self publishing (at least at first).
So, as many of you know, I found a small publisher willing to take a shot with these books and we have built a bit of a fan base of readers for them (now an 8-book series with a free prequel). The series has blossomed into something I am very proud of, both from an author standpoint but also as a business one as I have learned waaaaay more than I expected to about "this business of publishing" than I expected to, given the Brave New World of things these days where authors are their own marketing and promotions departments.
This said, one thing I have also learned is how to be a better writer. I have gone through my fair share of editing stages and learning curves and have arrived at a place where I think (hope) I am ready for the bloody mess of a manuscript I anticipate back from my New Editor for a New Project in a few weeks. But…with that….comes the realization that some of my early books are just….not that great.
I mean, the plots and characters and what not are okay but they need help, serious help. And because I have evolved to this place where I don't want anything "out there" with the Liz Crowe name on it that does not represent the VERY BEST of what I can offer, I am pulling 2 books from availability.
The rush to publish more and more and more is strong. It's very nearly become a "necessity" to crank out 4 or 5 or 6 books a year. In 2013, I had 6 of the damn things published myself INCLUDING a book I consider to be a real magnum opus: Good Faith, the final novel of the Stewart Realty series. However, now that I have caught my breath from that marathon of creativity, editing and promotion I realize that some of my "stuff" needs a harder look, a spit and polish and in a couple of cases a Hardcore Rewrite.
So this is me telling you, gentle fan, reader or hater (I know you are guys are out there and I send you lots of love) that as of today you can no longer purchase either VEGAS MIRACLE (a stand alone novel) or CONDITIONAL OFFER (book 5 from the Stewart Realty series).
The plan for Conditional Offer is for me to dive in and give Craig and Suzanne the story they deserve, not the slapped together rehash of the first 4 books of the series. Think "Mutual Release" level of background and character development, as well as the ability for it to stand alone, as Mutual Release, Essence of Time and Good Faith all do at the present moment. It will re-release on January 21, 2015 and not long after will be available as a "3-book series within a series" that will offer;
Essence of Time
Escalation Clause
Conditional Offer, as a "bundle" similar to the way we have bundled the first 3 books in the Stewart Realty series.
Have you seen this beautiful new cover for ESSENCE OF TIME? this is a book I revised and will be re-releasing on May 11, 2014! Sorry, I digress a moment….
Accepting that there are periods of your writing life when you just are not QUITE as good as you'd like to think you are is a huge part of an author's evolution from rookie to professional. I like to think that I have crossed that rubicon and am now eager to move forward not only with my 2 new 2014 projects but also to re-craft Conditional Offer into a novel that can stand alongside the others in this series with its head held high.
Vegas Miracle will also re-release in 2015 but we have not yet set that date.
So this is me, awaiting the red pen of death first content edit for a novel that is 100% of a departure from what I usually write (think: psycho-sexual character-driven thriller set in a revived Detroit) and bidding you a lovely Tuesday.
Happy Reading
Liz
p.s. FLOOR TIME IS FREE!!
amazon
Ibooks
Smashwords (remove the "adult filter" to get to this one)
p.p.s. GOOD FAITH is just .99 for 4 more days
amazon
B&N
p.p.s. I am loving The Goldfinch by one of my all time favorite authors Donna Tartt.
p.p.p.s. I will be posting a FREE SCENE from the new CONDITIONAL OFFER in my Facebook fan group in a few days. Click here to join! there are LOTS of extras and deleted scenes from the series there PLUS a ton of free first chapters to whet your whistle for my other books)
p.p.p.p.s. The books he got me (plus writing my own), worked. I recommend trying a few of mine if you need to rekindle some spark. I have my fair share of reader fans sending me "husband says thanks" messages!
I mean, I've had a few "ideas" every now than then because I am a completely voracious reader/listener and have always been. There is a family joke/urban legend about me on my hands and knees in the Tarry family sustenance garden, weeding --- and reading (or at least holding a book).
I would consider myself first and foremost a reader. When I caught the "bug" to write it was at a strange period of my life. I was busy with a successful real estate career, had 3 active and somewhat oversubscribed kids, 2 large dogs, a house, and what not. I also had a 15-year marriage (to a man I'd been "with" for 25 years) in a bit of a low ebb, heat-wise. You know what I'm talking about here. The zing was gone and we were left staring at each other over the morning coffee or turning away from each other at night with not much in between.
It happens to busy, driven people like ourselves.
Then, he got proactive and did some research, knowing my preference for the written word and a box from Amazon showed up at my house full of books I had never heard of with dubious sounding titles to my English Lit Degree programmed brain. I read them, found about half of them worthwhile and I literally concocted a couple of potential characters while I was sitting at an empty Open House one Sunday.
I sat down, and started crafting their story. "They" are now the "almost famous" couple Jack and Sara from the Stewart Realty series. The writing of their story was a tale of disappointments for me on many levels. Based on some of the books I read early on I figured it was a sort 'any old thing gets published' atmosphere. I learned otherwise, mainly because I chose the more traditional route of agent and publisher submission vs. self publishing (at least at first).
So, as many of you know, I found a small publisher willing to take a shot with these books and we have built a bit of a fan base of readers for them (now an 8-book series with a free prequel). The series has blossomed into something I am very proud of, both from an author standpoint but also as a business one as I have learned waaaaay more than I expected to about "this business of publishing" than I expected to, given the Brave New World of things these days where authors are their own marketing and promotions departments.
This said, one thing I have also learned is how to be a better writer. I have gone through my fair share of editing stages and learning curves and have arrived at a place where I think (hope) I am ready for the bloody mess of a manuscript I anticipate back from my New Editor for a New Project in a few weeks. But…with that….comes the realization that some of my early books are just….not that great.
I mean, the plots and characters and what not are okay but they need help, serious help. And because I have evolved to this place where I don't want anything "out there" with the Liz Crowe name on it that does not represent the VERY BEST of what I can offer, I am pulling 2 books from availability.
The rush to publish more and more and more is strong. It's very nearly become a "necessity" to crank out 4 or 5 or 6 books a year. In 2013, I had 6 of the damn things published myself INCLUDING a book I consider to be a real magnum opus: Good Faith, the final novel of the Stewart Realty series. However, now that I have caught my breath from that marathon of creativity, editing and promotion I realize that some of my "stuff" needs a harder look, a spit and polish and in a couple of cases a Hardcore Rewrite.
So this is me telling you, gentle fan, reader or hater (I know you are guys are out there and I send you lots of love) that as of today you can no longer purchase either VEGAS MIRACLE (a stand alone novel) or CONDITIONAL OFFER (book 5 from the Stewart Realty series).
The plan for Conditional Offer is for me to dive in and give Craig and Suzanne the story they deserve, not the slapped together rehash of the first 4 books of the series. Think "Mutual Release" level of background and character development, as well as the ability for it to stand alone, as Mutual Release, Essence of Time and Good Faith all do at the present moment. It will re-release on January 21, 2015 and not long after will be available as a "3-book series within a series" that will offer;
Essence of Time
Escalation Clause
Conditional Offer, as a "bundle" similar to the way we have bundled the first 3 books in the Stewart Realty series.
Have you seen this beautiful new cover for ESSENCE OF TIME? this is a book I revised and will be re-releasing on May 11, 2014! Sorry, I digress a moment….
Accepting that there are periods of your writing life when you just are not QUITE as good as you'd like to think you are is a huge part of an author's evolution from rookie to professional. I like to think that I have crossed that rubicon and am now eager to move forward not only with my 2 new 2014 projects but also to re-craft Conditional Offer into a novel that can stand alongside the others in this series with its head held high.
Vegas Miracle will also re-release in 2015 but we have not yet set that date.
So this is me, awaiting the red pen of death first content edit for a novel that is 100% of a departure from what I usually write (think: psycho-sexual character-driven thriller set in a revived Detroit) and bidding you a lovely Tuesday.
Happy Reading
Liz
p.s. FLOOR TIME IS FREE!!
amazon
Ibooks
Smashwords (remove the "adult filter" to get to this one)
p.p.s. GOOD FAITH is just .99 for 4 more days
amazon
B&N
p.p.s. I am loving The Goldfinch by one of my all time favorite authors Donna Tartt.
p.p.p.s. I will be posting a FREE SCENE from the new CONDITIONAL OFFER in my Facebook fan group in a few days. Click here to join! there are LOTS of extras and deleted scenes from the series there PLUS a ton of free first chapters to whet your whistle for my other books)
p.p.p.p.s. The books he got me (plus writing my own), worked. I recommend trying a few of mine if you need to rekindle some spark. I have my fair share of reader fans sending me "husband says thanks" messages!
March 5, 2014
March 4, 2014
Laura DeBruce Has a Riddle For You
Be sure and check out the contest! Ms. DeBruce is giving away:$50 Amazon Gift Card to ONE lucky commenter!Details at the bottom of the post.
The Riddle of Pragueby Laura DeBruce
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:
When 18-year-old Hana Silna travels to Prague to reclaim her family’s home, she discovers a riddle that may lead to a long-lost flask.
The contents of that flask could change the fate of the world. When a ruthless enemy kidnaps her family Hana has to find the flask to rescue them. On her quest she meets a mysterious man with a penchant for poetry, a Gypsy girl with a haunting past, and Alex, an all-American boy who’s trying to save his sister from a crippling disease. It’s hard to trust anyone when the stakes are this high — especially when surrounded by experts in deception.
There’s only one flask, and Hana desperately needs to find it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Excerpt:
JFK Airport, New York, 1991
My mother says when we face our fears, we tap into a reservoir of courage. I’m not so sure. I’m strapped to this seat like a captured beast, and all I feel is panic. The airplane screams down the runway and thrusts its 800,000 pounds of steel into the sky. We’re taking off in the middle of a thunderstorm. My seatmate, immersed in a book, seems oblivious to the danger.
He’s got curly, blond hair that’s a little on the long side and one of those perfectly sculpted noses, and he’s wearing jeans and a batik-patterned shirt. Early twenties, I’m guessing. Not much older than me. The airplane gives a sickening lunge, and I tug the seatbelt tighter. My seatmate glances over, a bit eagerly, with piercing blue eyes.
“You all right there?” he asks with a crisp, European accent of some kind.
“I’m fine.” I’m not fine at all, but I don’t want to tell him that.
“This is the amazing part.” He gestures out the window, twirling his hand as if he’s conducting the storm outside. “Look!”
“I’d rather not.” The plane shakes, and I grab the armrests.
I’m only on this flight because my mother has inherited a house in Prague. Actually she’s reclaiming a house—the one where she grew up. The one the Communists took from her family when they seized all private property. My mom and dad had to escape when the Soviets invaded Prague in 1968. Now the Iron Curtain has lifted, and the people who left can finally return without being thrown into jail. Unfortunately for my mother, now means surgery and doctors. She’s at a hospital and can barely walk down the hallway, much less haul herself onto a plane. This didn’t matter to the bureaucrats in charge of the restitution of property. If the transfer of the house doesn’t happen immediately, they say it might not happen at all. That’s why my mother is sending me, her only child, in her place. That’s why I’m on this airplane instead of at the hospital at her side, where I should be.
Laura DeBruce is a documentary filmmaker and writer. She grew up traveling all over the world thanks to her father’s work with the U.S. Embassy. She and her husband spent twelve years living in Europe including Prague, Paris, Amsterdam and London where she found inspiration to write The Quicksilver Legacy Series. In Prague she worked as a lawyer for the first private nationwide television station in the former Communist bloc. It was there that she fell in love with the ancient city of Prague and its legends.
She lives in the Washington, DC area with her husband and son and an unruly Golden Retriever.
Website with blog and trailer: http://theriddleofprague.com/
Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Riddle-Prague-QuickSilver-Legacy-ebook/dp/B00FFBNUVA/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1386523998&sr=8-1&keywords=riddle+prague
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/TheRiddleofPrague
Twitter: https://twitter.com/LauraDeBruce
NOW CLICK HERE TO BE ENTERED TO WIN!
February 28, 2014
But Liz….Why? Why?
Greetings loyal fans, supporters, readers, reviewers and yes, even you haters (I see you, you rascals),
I have made a kind of radical decision about something that I want to share because, basically, it's something you will benefit from.
The first book in the Stewart Realty series (Floor Time) is NOW FREE!
That's right…
But why? you ask. Liz…you insist…you want to "make a living writing and selling your books!" How can you do that when you just give them away? Is this book worth NOTHING to you?
Your concern (at least my imaginary version of it) is admirable and I thank you.
However, the reason that I'm doing this is simple: I believe so strongly in the amazing nature of this series, and I know that you have so many things vying for your "book budget money" I just thought I'd offer this first book up to capture your interest. I am pretty darn sure that once you meet Jack (and Sara) you will want to keep reading about them….It is #9 on the Top 50 List of "What to Read After 50 Shades" (but fair warning, my folks don't always behave the way some readers "like!")
It's that simple. It's a hook that I hope to use to snag you so that you can join the rapidly building buzz of chatter about this series…
So, enjoy! This one's on ME!
CLICK HERE FOR THE GOODREADS REVIEW PAGE!
CLICK HERE FOR KINDLE!
CLICK HERE FOR IbOOKs!
Smashwords/B&N freebie-hood is coming soon….
Thanks for your support. I'll be buried with a MS revision post-Beta reads once I park my ego for a while and get serious with it. Have a great first week of March!
Liz
p.s. Don't miss the beautiful teaser quotes/memes from Cocktails & Books leading up to the cover reveal for ESSENCE OF TIME, book 4 of this amazing series!
Click here for one
Click here for another
the next one is March 2 and the cover reveal AND exclusive new scene I added to the book is March 3 along with a SpreeCast with yours truly that night 8-10 pm EST….click here for that info.
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The very NEXT day I'm taking over the Book Enthusiast's Facebook page…there will be contests, chatter, some hot new memes from the first 3 books never before seen. Click here to "like" them and come back Tuesday, March 4 for the Stewart Realty fun!
Click here to read their reviews of books 1-3 in the series!
p.p.s. The Stewart Realty series anthology release tour is STILL going on and while it is, the final (potential standalone) highly acclaimed novel GOOD FAITH is ONLY .99. This is full length novel. Buy and download now for a limited time for this price and either read it first or finish your Stewart Realty journey with it. Click here to read the Goodreads reviews. (it includes a single one-star unhappy former fan's review along with the other 40+ 4 and 5 star ones. Such is a writer's life, no?)
Click here to buy
Amazon
B&N
p.p.s. Click here for the link to the rest of the tour stops.
p.p.p.s. Floor Time!
February 25, 2014
Hanging with Charmaine Gordon (But Not With Beer)
Today I welcome Charmain Gordon to the Beer Bar.
Liz, please pour me a half glass of Chardonnay and let’s begin. Any more will have me tap dancing on the bar. Really. Been there/Done that.
Um…sorry doll, but this here is a BEER BAR….so I'll have to say "have some of Ann Arbor's finest (tap water)"…And my manager guy Josh tolerates zero bar dancing, trust me. I've "been there/done that."
Tell us about yourself.
Charmaine Gordon is my name, in marriage, acting, and my latest career as an author. Too many names might muddy the water so I keep it simple.
Re: Women who survive and thrive. That’s my credo. Keep a sense of humor, take one step forward and move on. Otherwise you go slip sliding backwards and then where are you? In No-where-ville.
After years of good daughter, faithful Air Force Wife and mother of too many, this caterpillar morphed into a butterfly and spread wings to fly into NYC. An actor friend suggested I was ready and needed a few classes in commercial acting. And I did, landing my first audition in an off Broadway Play as one of the two leads. What a kick! Then, after an interview with an agent who told me I was a woman of indeterminate age and limited resume and would never be cast with all the prominent actors vying for work, I left thinking, “Someone’s got to get the job so why not me?” With that attitude, and the fact that I didn’t expect to be a star, I booked walk on and under fives on daytime drama and sometimes background artist (extras). Cool and so much fun. And I became known as the actor who knew how to walk through swing doors and not let them continue to swing. A skill like no other.
Here’s a tidbit from the sweet time. In the movie Working Girl, I sang Happy Birthday to Melanie Griffith and carried the balloons. Mike Nichols selected me out of all the panting actors. During lunch break I first heard the phrase “Don’t speak to The Stars.” Hmm, I thought. Never shy, I sauntered over to Harrison Ford standing alone eating a hot dog at the unfinished World Trade Center Building #7. Smiling, I said, “You were seriously sexy in Witness when you sang in the barn, “Don’t Know Much About History.”
Liz: I need another beer…hang on….(Love me some Harrison Ford)
He grinned his adorable lopsided grin and together we sang the song, shared the remainder of the hot dog and whirled around in the sunshine on a chilly spring morning.
Another sweet time happened at Lake Mohonk, a beautiful lodge upstate NY where Anthony Hopkins starred in a film being shot up there. I was booked for a month. The second day there, I sat in a corridor in costume waiting for my call and the man headed straight toward me. He stopped, put ou” his hand. “Tony here.” I introduced myself. “Let’s have lunch.” Next thing I knew, we were arm in arm entering a private dining room where the elite were dining on filet mignon, red roasted potatoes shaped like mushrooms and steamed spinach.
Liz: Hmmm….hopefully you guys skipped the fava beans and a nice Chianti….
I don’t know how these things happened but they did and that’s why I call my years of acting the sweet time.
Now I write and instead of instant gratification with applause, applause, I sit in my small cluttered office and bring fictional characters to life.
LIZ: wowzer….well let's see the official bio
Bio: Charmaine Gordon writes books about women who Survive and Thrive. Her motto is take one step and then another to leave your past behind and begin again. Six books and several short stories in three years, she’s always at work on the next story. The books include To Be Continued, Starting Over, Now What?, Reconstructing Charlie, Sin of Omission and The Catch. And a new series of Mature Romances about Sexy Seniors under the umbrella title The Beginning. . .Not The End.“I didn’t realize at the time while working as an actor in NYC, I’d become a sponge soaking up dialogue, setting, and stage directions. I learned many tools of writing during the years watching directors like Mike Nichols and actors including Harrison Ford, Anthony Hopkins, and Billy Crystal. And would you believe, I was Geraldine Ferraro’s stand-in leg model, my first job giving me entrée into all the Unions needed to work. When the sweet time ended, I began another career and creative juices flowed.”
My latest release is titled She Didn’t Say No.
Blurb:
Another Mature Romance... with a twist!
Grace didn’t say no to the Big Man On Campus, Scott Dwyer. And then her life changed...Grace makes her way to a new town and with the kindness of strangers, establishes a business called The Pet Emporium where she grooms , what else? Dogs and cats.Years later, a too-close encounter of an unpleasant kind with a skunk and Scott’s German Shepherd reunites the former lovers.What happens in between are their stories of beginnings and endings and love lost, then found.
Coming Soon in Audio!http://www.amazon.com/She-Didnt-Say-Beginning-Not/dp/0615959865
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I1MRP9S
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-shedidn039tsayno-1404960-149.html https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/400933
http://youtu.be/fdBbIVdBXXo
You can reach Charmaine at http://authorCharmaineGordon.wordpress.com
And on her FB page http://www.facebook.com/charmaine.gordon
Twitter @CharJGordon
Thanks, Liz and before I leave, another half glass of Chardonnay , please. It’s been fun visiting with you.
Oh heavens….people, I own a BEER BAR …. your chardonnays are down the street at the TGI Fridays, sorry!
BUT Charmaine is offering a free copy of her new book for the awesome-ist comment below….let us know what you think about her and her new book. I'm a total fan of this lady now!
But I must leave you with this visual:
Liz, please pour me a half glass of Chardonnay and let’s begin. Any more will have me tap dancing on the bar. Really. Been there/Done that.
Um…sorry doll, but this here is a BEER BAR….so I'll have to say "have some of Ann Arbor's finest (tap water)"…And my manager guy Josh tolerates zero bar dancing, trust me. I've "been there/done that."
Tell us about yourself.
Charmaine Gordon is my name, in marriage, acting, and my latest career as an author. Too many names might muddy the water so I keep it simple.
Re: Women who survive and thrive. That’s my credo. Keep a sense of humor, take one step forward and move on. Otherwise you go slip sliding backwards and then where are you? In No-where-ville.
After years of good daughter, faithful Air Force Wife and mother of too many, this caterpillar morphed into a butterfly and spread wings to fly into NYC. An actor friend suggested I was ready and needed a few classes in commercial acting. And I did, landing my first audition in an off Broadway Play as one of the two leads. What a kick! Then, after an interview with an agent who told me I was a woman of indeterminate age and limited resume and would never be cast with all the prominent actors vying for work, I left thinking, “Someone’s got to get the job so why not me?” With that attitude, and the fact that I didn’t expect to be a star, I booked walk on and under fives on daytime drama and sometimes background artist (extras). Cool and so much fun. And I became known as the actor who knew how to walk through swing doors and not let them continue to swing. A skill like no other.
Here’s a tidbit from the sweet time. In the movie Working Girl, I sang Happy Birthday to Melanie Griffith and carried the balloons. Mike Nichols selected me out of all the panting actors. During lunch break I first heard the phrase “Don’t speak to The Stars.” Hmm, I thought. Never shy, I sauntered over to Harrison Ford standing alone eating a hot dog at the unfinished World Trade Center Building #7. Smiling, I said, “You were seriously sexy in Witness when you sang in the barn, “Don’t Know Much About History.”
Liz: I need another beer…hang on….(Love me some Harrison Ford)
He grinned his adorable lopsided grin and together we sang the song, shared the remainder of the hot dog and whirled around in the sunshine on a chilly spring morning.
Another sweet time happened at Lake Mohonk, a beautiful lodge upstate NY where Anthony Hopkins starred in a film being shot up there. I was booked for a month. The second day there, I sat in a corridor in costume waiting for my call and the man headed straight toward me. He stopped, put ou” his hand. “Tony here.” I introduced myself. “Let’s have lunch.” Next thing I knew, we were arm in arm entering a private dining room where the elite were dining on filet mignon, red roasted potatoes shaped like mushrooms and steamed spinach.
Liz: Hmmm….hopefully you guys skipped the fava beans and a nice Chianti….
I don’t know how these things happened but they did and that’s why I call my years of acting the sweet time.
Now I write and instead of instant gratification with applause, applause, I sit in my small cluttered office and bring fictional characters to life.
LIZ: wowzer….well let's see the official bio
Bio: Charmaine Gordon writes books about women who Survive and Thrive. Her motto is take one step and then another to leave your past behind and begin again. Six books and several short stories in three years, she’s always at work on the next story. The books include To Be Continued, Starting Over, Now What?, Reconstructing Charlie, Sin of Omission and The Catch. And a new series of Mature Romances about Sexy Seniors under the umbrella title The Beginning. . .Not The End.“I didn’t realize at the time while working as an actor in NYC, I’d become a sponge soaking up dialogue, setting, and stage directions. I learned many tools of writing during the years watching directors like Mike Nichols and actors including Harrison Ford, Anthony Hopkins, and Billy Crystal. And would you believe, I was Geraldine Ferraro’s stand-in leg model, my first job giving me entrée into all the Unions needed to work. When the sweet time ended, I began another career and creative juices flowed.”
My latest release is titled She Didn’t Say No.
Blurb:
Another Mature Romance... with a twist!
Grace didn’t say no to the Big Man On Campus, Scott Dwyer. And then her life changed...Grace makes her way to a new town and with the kindness of strangers, establishes a business called The Pet Emporium where she grooms , what else? Dogs and cats.Years later, a too-close encounter of an unpleasant kind with a skunk and Scott’s German Shepherd reunites the former lovers.What happens in between are their stories of beginnings and endings and love lost, then found.
Coming Soon in Audio!http://www.amazon.com/She-Didnt-Say-Beginning-Not/dp/0615959865
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00I1MRP9S
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-shedidn039tsayno-1404960-149.html https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/400933
http://youtu.be/fdBbIVdBXXo
You can reach Charmaine at http://authorCharmaineGordon.wordpress.com
And on her FB page http://www.facebook.com/charmaine.gordon
Twitter @CharJGordon
Thanks, Liz and before I leave, another half glass of Chardonnay , please. It’s been fun visiting with you.
Oh heavens….people, I own a BEER BAR …. your chardonnays are down the street at the TGI Fridays, sorry!
BUT Charmaine is offering a free copy of her new book for the awesome-ist comment below….let us know what you think about her and her new book. I'm a total fan of this lady now!
But I must leave you with this visual:
