Liz Crowe's Blog, page 17

The Liz Crowe Serial Novel Project: Take 3

Please enjoy Part 3 of "Wrong Place Wrong Time"while I wrestle with my inner authorial demons and do a bit of traveling this week (soccer tournament, North Carolina, lots of college coaches "watching").
And please realize (those of you new to the Liz Book World) Nothing Is As It Seems…even in this seemingly obvious (perhaps) little lark of a story.


Catch up to part 1...

and part 2…


cheers!
Liz

Chapter Four
Lucas waited a few minutes for the tent in his pants to back down, then he got up and fetched them both tea. His hands shook as he walked back to the small table. She was so amazing, this woman. Smart, strong, complex, facile, and fucking hot as hell. He gulped, as she shot him a mushy smile, put a hand on his arm, playing the part already like a pro. She blew across the top of the steaming mug of bitter liquid, making his body clench at the sight of her pursed lips, the memory of them against his fresh and real. Her silvery eyes were wide as she spoke.  “I got pregnant when I was a junior in high school. By the first guy I ever had sex with. Probably within weeks of even having sex for the first time.” She sighed, cradled the hot cup between her hands. “He was as clueless as I was, head over his heels in teenage boy lust.” She glared at him when snorted, then apologized. “My parents had their own issues. My dad has lost his job, my mom worked two of them, my younger, soccer star of a brother took all their time, attention and money. I never even got the birds and bees talk. Picked it up from books and from friends.  When I missed a period I ignored it. When I missed again, and was sick as a dog for a month, I kept ignoring it. Then, when I couldn’t pretend anymore I confronted my parents. They freaked and sent me to live with my aunt in another state.” She swallowed hard, and Lucas had to clench his fists not to reach out and touch her hand. Then he remembered he could. All part of the little charade. She startled some when he ran a finger across her hand still clutching the tea mug. “Anyway, long story short, I had a baby. Finished high school living with an aunt who was more like an older, irresponsible sister. Funny thing happened though. The baby…” She sucked in a breath. “My daughter’s father showed up at the hospital with his parents. They wanted her. So I gave her to them.” Lucas frowned. “Pretty practical for a teenage girl.”Alex sighed, sipped, her hands shaking as she lifted the tea to her lips. “Yeah, well, I was determined to succeed in life. Not work shitty jobs like my mom to make ends meet, not be middle management, first to get cut like my dad. I don’t know.” She looked out at the still busy darkened Istanbul sidewalk. Her haunted eyes made him quiver with need to gather her up, hold her close. He sensed she hadn’t trusted anyone then. And still didn’t.She cleared her throat. “So, there she is. Kristin. Raised by her father and stepmother whom she knows as her mother because I agreed never to contact her in exchange for regular updates as to her life. Which I get by photo. Her father was nothing if not a keeper of promises. So.” She leveled her gaze at him. He smiled, and had to move around in his seat again. “That’s me Lucas. Tell me about you. For real this time, please.”The urge to blurt it out, all of it. His bland, wealthy, only-child upbringing in Southeast Michigan-one of the soulless Detroit suburbs had been where he discovered his inner rebel. The military straight out of high school as a nose-thumb to his snooty, academic parents, the girls who seemed to fall at his feet from the time he was sixteen, college on the GI bill then getting plucked out of a sea of candidates for FBI training. His lack of stated background a plus for a change, he’d taken to it like a duck to water. But…he cocked his head and looked at her. To her credit she stayed quiet and let him mull over which version of the truth he could release and still maintain her trust. All the while a small voice started the beginnings of a whisper that would eventually become a roar in his ears. “Alexa.” He gulped and spoke, barely hearing the bullshit he spewed, letting his training take over, hoping the story sounded plausible.She reached over at one point during the monologue of obfuscation, giving him an unimpeded view of the tops of her breasts once more. “Your story sounds…”He nodded, still unsure which one he’d told her, but suddenly needing to be away from her before he did something stupid.  He still had a job, a case and he needed to communicate with the mother ship tonight, let them know the issue here was not espionage but grand larceny, the scale of which took his breath away. He watched her lips move. “Well,” she demanded. He shook his head. “Sorry. What?” He honestly had zoned out, staring at her.  Not good.“Your plan, lover boy. You know, to trap him?” She kept her voice low. Lucas rolled his neck around, tried to move out of the haze of desire that threatened to overtake him. She raised an eyebrow, the natural, bossy attitude sliding over her features.“Yeah, okay. He’s obviously pressing you to marry him for a reason. And I think it’s because he knows you will say no. It matches your profile.” He grabbed her hand, threaded his fingers through hers as they spoke, hoping he didn’t offend her but knowing it had to be said. “Loner, successful, but unable to commit you know.” She nodded. “And he’s made such a huge deal out of his ego with women it would stand to reason that if he broke up with you because you wouldn’t marry him you’d be pissed. And try to get back at him somehow. For your own gain but also to show him a thing or two about what an independent woman can do.” She frowned, let go of his hand, sat back. “So where does all this fake lovey dovey fit in then?” She crossed her arms. He took a breath. “If you show interest in the office boy also known as yours truly, he’ll go nuts. You shut him down for me? Seriously? He won’t be able to stand it. He’ll ramp up the effort to frame you and we can catch him making one more transfer to seal your fate but we’ll be monitoring his every step by then and can catch him in the act.”Lucas sat back, satisfied with himself but his every nerve ending zinging with lust. He was going to have to track down that office girl tonight without a doubt. Knock off his edge if he were going to follow through with this. “One huge problem with that plan, mister smarty pants.” Her eyes glowed. He frowned. “I’ve already shut the guy down, cold. Just this weekend as a matter of fact, when he tried to give me an obnoxious engagement ring.” She sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Lucas’s ears buzzed at the sight of her neck, exposed, beckoning his lips. “This little plan might have worked a couple of weeks ago, but now, I’m afraid it’s too late. He’s implemented his end of the deal. I’m sure the Feds will swoop in on me any second once he ‘discovers’ the accounting discrepancy. Fucker probably manufactured the firewall breach to get everybody suspicious.”Lucas winced, realizing how close she was to “the Feds” at this moment. He nearly did it then. Revealed his true self and his reason for being there in the first place. But his inner wish to stay employed won out over his heart. A decision he regretted more than once in the months to come.
                               ***
By the time he had walked her to her building, not far from the ice cream shop, he had filled her in on every ounce of intel he had on her colleagues, couching it in terms of “company gossip” he’d “gleaned” by “keeping his ear to the ground on her behalf” as behooves a “good assistant.” She’d been dumbstruck by a lot of it. That the marketing director was gay, and hung out at high end clubs in Prague which was why he was there so damn much. That her COO had been cheating on his wife for nearly four years with a Russian chick from a rival company, already impregnating her once and paying for an abortion. And plenty of other, much more benign tidbits that tumbled from his memory banks like water from a bucket. “Well, that pretty much makes me fucking the CEO seem tame.” She turned to him when they reached the door. He stayed close, the protectiveness in him reaching nearly gargantuan proportions for some reason. Her steely shell had cracked and he knew the soft mushy inside and he wanted it, all, for himself, bad.  He watched her swallow, leaned in to take a deep breath of her, the long line of her neck a pure temptation. She shivered a little, he put an arm around her. “Of course, you screwing my local-hire supplier manager makes us a scary full circle, doesn’t it?” She leaned back as he stared at her, put a hand to his cheek. “Kiss me already, damn you. We gotta make this look convincing.” He stepped away, wiped a hand down his face. “Um, what?”“Come on Lucas. You think nobody knows? You’re not the only one with company gossip? Hell this is the biggest city/smallest town on the damn planet.  Ex-pats know everybody’s business. I’ll admit I’m out of the mommy loop and miss out on a lot of the really juicy stuff but…” She shrugged, turned to let the door man open the door for her. He grabbed her arm, alarm bells ringing all through him at this little tidbit. She jerked out of his grip, anger oozing from her like visible smoke.  He grappled once more with the twin demons of truth and reality, and let reality rule. “Fine. Well, yeah, I’ve had a few pleasant evenings with, uh, …” His face flushed, realizing he could not even remember the girl’s name. “Ebru.” She reminded him. “Jesus. What a pig. But,” she smiled, and he relaxed. “I think you in her pants is as much use to us as me in Jay’s.” Lucas suppressed a thrill of utter possessive jealousy when he realized what had to be done now. “Yeah, you’re right. So we’re clear? You get me access to his laptop and phone tomorrow night after the regional marketing meeting.”“Yes dear. I have my orders. Seduce, finagle him into a quick fuck in the conference room—totally out of character for me so he’ll be caught off guard, which gives you fifteen minutes alone in his office. But I still don’t know how we’ll manage the phone thing. He is never, ever without it.”Lucas stared at her. “Does he hold it in his hand while he’s, you know, with you?”She grinned, making him blush and pissing him off all over again.  He put a hand to the back of her neck, threaded fingers in her thick, black hair, tugged her close. “Don’t make me say it Alexa,” he teased her again, letting his lips brush the line of her jaw, tickle her ear. “Does he hold the damn phone while he’s fucking you?” She turned her face, met his lips, covered them, held him close right on the sidewalk. The kiss left nothing to the imagination, her lips and tongue spoke volumes and his body responded in kind. She broke away. “No, Lucas. He doesn’t. I get the picture. But it means a little finagling as he usually puts it in his damn trouser pocket. I don’t anticipate us totally naked on the conference room table.”Lucas winced, picturing it, picturing her, with him. “You’re smart. Figure it out. He’s still wearing the trousers, slip your sexy, wandering hand into the pocket.” He released her then, stuck his hands in his pockets and hoped like hell the doorman didn’t see how turned on he was. That the etiquette of not noticing an ill-timed erection still worked overseas between men with a certain level of understanding. The guy frowned at him, then smiled as Alex turned and walked through the massive glass doors leaving him alone, watching her go.

LIKE MOM BOOK BLAST!

***contest***Cheryl will be awarding a $50 Amazon Gift Card to a randomly drawn commenter during the tour
Like Momby Cheryl Robinson
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BLURB:

Determined to lose weight, Nevada Pearson participates in a twelve-week clinical trial for a new diet pill. Nevada thinks if she’s slim, her life will be so much better. She won’t have to wear dark clothes to hide her big belly and can kiss the plus sizes good-bye. Her husband will stop ogling every skinny woman in sight, and she’ll stop accusing him of cheating. She won’t have to worry that he’ll leave her the way her dad left her mom. She can stop ranting on her YouTube channel about being fat. She’ll get promoted at work. Her fifteen-year-old daughter will want to lose weight, too, instead of staying holed up in her bedroom eating junk food and surfing the Internet for a cure to her social anxiety. But Nevada isn’t prepared for what happens next and how quickly her life changes—and it has nothing to do with her amazing weight loss.   

EXCERPT:


I stared across the booth at my mom with a blank expression on my face and told her what I felt she needed to hear, what I’d never heard her husband say. “You look pretty.” And she did—prettier than I’d seen her look in a long time. She looked like she’d lost a few pounds. Either that or bought a better girdle. And I had an instant vision of my mom losing half her size, like the people on The Biggest Loser.
We were at Red Barrel, celebrating their three-year wedding anniversary on Halloween with a bunch of people dressed up in costumes. Who gets married on Halloween? Better question: Why did they get married at all?
Mom was wearing a long-sleeved purple and black dress that she got from Macy’s. I remembered when she got it last year, because as soon as she came home, she tried it on and asked me a bunch of times if I liked it. Each time I told her I did, but she didn’t believe me, so she took it off, put it back in the bag, drove to the store, and returned it. The next week she saw it on sale online and ordered it, but this was her first time wearing it.  I wanted a more glamorous mom, one who looked like she could be my sister. Someone who could teach me how to put on my makeup and do my hair and had a sense of style I admired—someone like Beyoncé.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Cheryl Robinson is a native Detroiter currently residing in Central Florida. She started her literary career as an independent author, publishing two books before eventually landed a publishing deal with Penguin/NAL Trade. She published six novels with NAL Trade and two more novels as an independent author. She is currently working on her next novel. Visit her Website at cherylrobinson.com, where you can read her blog and enter her monthly blog contest.



Amazon purchase link:
http://www.amazon.com/Like-Mom-ebook/dp/B00FW6PYD0/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1381848472&sr=1-1&keywords=Like+Mom
My Website link
http://cherylrobinson.com/books/like-mom/

I'm So Thankful for My Fans, I Wrote A Short Story!

Greetings and Happy Turkey Day! 
I am so very grateful for many things: family, friends, my health, my relative successes in 2013 and my plans or 2014. But at this moment, I'm so damn thankful for my fans I have written you something new. A short interlude from Good Faith, the final Stewart Realty novel that is garnering tons of praise and buzz and lots of new fans.
This is, for the most part, spoiler-free although with hints of a storyline you will find once you read that novel.

A Happier Thanksgiving--It's All Relative
A Stewart Realty Short
by Liz Crowe 
All rights reserved
(unedited, forgive typos)


“What the fuck are you talking about?”  Evan asked and sighed and watched as Julie dashed from room to room, muttering under her breath, calling out at varying intervals for June or Claire to fetch this or that, or to materialize at her side. Which they did. He shook his head, ever in awe of the Total Female Presence in his home. “Dad! Daddy!” “Oh, huh?” He got shoved aside. “Sorry.” He scuttled into his study and sat in front of the computer a while, ignoring the whirlwind chaos just outside the heavy wooden door. After about an hour he glanced up from brewery profit and loss spreadsheets, his newly acquired reading glasses sliding down his nose. There it was again, a soft knock. He looked out the large, un-curtained window onto the lawn. When did it get dark? Jesus, he was getting old.“Yeah,” he stood and stretched, pondering a bourbon drink and a fire in the fireplace.Julie stood at his open door, dressed only in a silky robe, holding two tumblers of amber liquid. “Sorry. I never answered your question.” She said, tiptoeing into the large, bookshelf lined space that took up an entire corner of their house. A smile lit the corners of her gorgeous lips. “I forgot the question.” He grinned and tugged her close, relishing her smell, her taste.“Hang on, I’m gonna spill these.” She shouldered him away and started to set the drinks on his big, mahogany desk. “Mmm, hmm…” He muttered, gripping her ass and walking her backwards. “Here,” he took the glasses from her, set them on the desk and cradled her face between his hands. “So…”She raised an eyebrow, leaned in and blanked his mind a moment with a kiss. “I was talking about,” she whispered, letting her lips trail down his jaw and neck and bringing every single one of his nerve endings to full attention. “The fact that I needed to make more appetizers and the fact that you fucking forgot…” She dropped to her knees and unbuckled his belt, unzipped his jeans.“I will go and get whatever it is you want that I forgot as long as you keep…oh hell yes,” he groaned and gripped her hair. She teased him a bit, brought him to the ragged edge, then popped up in front of him, leaving him breathless. She kissed him then broke away. “You forgot the god damn feta cheese, Country Club.” Her smile was flirty, just like he liked it. His brain processed the words and he gave himself a mental slap but he was so tingly from the waist down he could hardly stand it. “I have appetizers to make for something like a hundred people including a hoard of soccer players.”“Feta…cheese…Okay, just let me do this…first,”  he sighed, shoving her back and pinning her on the desk, her arms spread on either side of her head. “I’m all over it baby.” He said, yanking open her robe and getting to work. “Oh…well, all right then,” she sighed. “We can discuss it later.
                                    *****
“I don’t know why they are subjecting themselves to this…this…”Julie plopped her bare feet on Evan’s lap, contentment rolling through her like pleasant, warm climate waves. Never mind the huge snowstorm brewing outside their walls. Her man never failed to make her feel this way, ever. Her earlier fury at his forgetfulness and obstinacy had disappeared like a puff of proverbial smoke. She smiled, sipped her bourbon and watched as Evan did the same, staring into the fire in the massive stone-fronted fireplace of their family room. The girls had decamped at some point, at her encouragement, once she’d sorted out that Evan was ignoring them.“Jack has to make a statement. He wants to have the team over, at least once,” he sipped, stared, his face set in happy lines. She grinned into her glass.“Well, it’s gonna be a zoo. Sara was freaking out today. I mean in a big way. Like I’ve not seen her do in a while.”“Yeah,” Evan grunted, and leaned his head back as he kneaded the instep of her left foot.  “She should take that shit out on her husband, not you.”“She’s not taking anything out on me, dear. She’s my friend. You know. It’s what we do.” She leaned her own head back, relaxing, for the first time in what felt like weeks, despite the inherent stress of her job as president of a successful beer and wine distribution company, especially at this time of year.“So since you forgot one of my key ingredients…ouch!” She sat up when he dug his knuckle deep in deep. “You have to help me figure out how to finish up these damn appetizers. No biggie. I mean, you know, for a genius like yourself.”“Where are our daughters?” He asked, mildly, still rubbing her foot.“Out,” she said. “Some party or another. They’ll be around all weekend, never fear.”“I don’t fear that. I just worry…you know…about them because that is job one for me. I guess that tool of a boyfriend is coming tomorrow?”“I know,” she said, putting her glass on the table next to the couch.  “You’re great at it honey. And no, Todd is officially out of favor.”They sighed in unison. “Thank god. I really hated that smarmy kid. Can I convince you to head to bed with me Missus Adams?” Evan asked, now standing and holding out a hand.“You have got to lighten up on the bad mouthing boyfriends Country Club.” She sat, staring at him. “It’s gonna backfire. You hate them. The girls go for them. Why has it taken you so long to figure that out?” He sighed, and sat back down, looking defeated as only he could when it came to the active love lives of their twin daughters. She’d put them both on the pill a couple of years ago, had long, sit-down conferences with their father and without, hoping to get him to come to terms with reality. But it seemed only to make him more uptight.    She smiled and got up, wrapping herself around him, smothering her misgivings about this whole over the top pot-luck soccer club project of her friends.  She let him pull her up to their bedroom, her haven, the one place she could feel totally free to be what she wanted to be.“Hold on,” he said, halfway up the steps, turning to her with a concerned look on his face. “Do I have to get up early, I mean, to get to the store and get…what was it again?” She smacked his shoulder and shoved him up against the stairwell wall, loving him so much at that moment she had no words. But also so worried about her friend Sara, the memory of her frantic, angry voice very clear, she knew she’d have a hard time sleeping.

            *****Sara sat at the kitchen table, staring around at the utter chaos of the room, on the edge of that party moment—the moment any honest person will admit to, when you say “Ok, I don’t want to do this anymore,” to yourself and really mean it. Kind of like when you are about to push a baby out—the zero hour, the moment of hard reality and you’d just as soon go home and forget the whole fucking thing.  Stop it. You suggested this. It was, in essence your damn idea. So deal with it. She shook her head, sipped her tea and blinked, bleary-eyed out at the sea of food and preparations.  The turkeys were ordered, the bar purchased at astronomical expense. She only knew because she had to use her personal credit card to buy it all and also knew that her husband monitored every nickel they spent like a frigging church mouse, worrying over ever farthing. He’d texted her about thirty minutes after she’d spent it, asking her what the holy hell was worth nearly six hundred god damned dollars at the liquor story just now. It was exhausting, justifying it all to him. Although she knew by now that much of his bluster was just bluff. She was just as frugal in her way as he was. They were well matched that way.Just as that put-upon feeling was creeping up on her, he appeared, dressed in a pair of ratty, Michigan State flannel pants and nothing else. She shook her head, determined to hang onto the low-lying fury that had hovered around her consciousness for so many days. He leaned in the doorway, Jack Gordon, all six foot five inch trim, lean, cocky amazing man of him. Hers.She looked away, unwilling to acknowledge that she was in any way going to acquiesce to his charms. Not tonight. She was too exhausted.
                                                *****
Jack’s head pounded. Every damn inch of him thrummed with stress.  He should never have agreed to such a stupid thing—hosting the entire roster and staff of the Black Jacks at his house? Jesus. What had he been smoking?But, here he was—here they were, on the cusp of the day itself. Sara had outdone herself, and he knew it. He also knew he’d not acknowledged it properly.  But at this moment, observing her sitting at their large kitchen table, with  a cup of her favorite Earle Grey tea clutched in one hand, his heart clenched with stress. She looked so tired, so worn out. And he’d done that to her. He would never, ever love or desire another woman like he did Sara Thornton, despite her (at times) stubborn bullshit. The concept that he had made her unhappy, stressed, overly tired, made his heart pound with anxiety.He took a step into their large, gourmet-style kitchen a little unsure, reading her wife cues on how to proceed. Opening their large, Sub Zero fridge he frowned at the crowded contents, until he found what he wanted. He pulled two coffee mugs out of the cabinet and filled them with chocolate milk, zapped them a few minutes in the nuker, then set one in front of Sara while sinking into a chair opposite her with is own mug.“Thanks,” she said, sipping but not meeting his eyes. “Sure, “ he said, not worrying about it just yet.“Did you set up the tables in the basement?”“Yes”“Did you guys fill both racks full of firewood?”“Yes.”“Is the alarm set?”He got up then, dragging Sara to her feet. “Yes. Kiss me,” he insisted. “I love you.”“I know that Jack. I’m just doubting my…our…sanity right now, hosting all these damn soccer players. I mean, you know they are all gonna show to please the big boss. Jesus. I want a small celebration back. The kind that doesn’t mean I’m doing a baseboard level cleaning, you know? No. Don’t answer that. You don’t know.” He sighed, set his mug down and leaned into her. The sounds of her son and his best friend Gabe playing endless violent war games down in the basement floated through her brain. “I am so tired,” she said into his neck, relishing his familiar scent and feel.Without a word he picked her up, cradling her to him like a baby and walked them back to their bedroom, kicking the basement door shut with a foot, silencing the video game noises behind them. He kissed her, blotted out everything, the fatigue and still half finished to-do lists, everything but the beloved, familiar contours of his lips, shoulders, torso, face. His voice in her ear, commanding her, compelling her to let it go, to drop it all, to surrender to him—it all worked, just like she knew it would. She lay, wrists lightly bound together, blindfolded and sucking in huge breaths of slightly bleachy-scented air from the cleaning services efforts that day and had never felt more content. Jack knew what to do. He could read her like a book, contribute his own footnotes and illustrations and she adored him for it. Even though she knew damn good and well the Book of Sara Thornton was full of selfish misunderstandings and unexplainable hairpin turns. Jack didn’t mind. He’d studied it back to front, accepted what it contained and made it his own.“Baby…Sara….” She could hear the quick breathing behind his words. Playing this way was always such a turn on for him. Granted the man would gladly fuck her any way she wanted, but going this extra mile when she needed the mental break was just like him. And he got his pay off. “I need something from you.”She could sense him, smell his skin, tinged with his subtle cologne but underneath it pure, raw lust. She nodded her head, as she had not been given permission to speak. He pulled her up to seated. Now that he’d licked her to the edge of orgasm only to back away and leave her gasping, unable to release she was humming with erotic energy but yet within a lovely, silent, white space in her head. One of her very favorite places. Using her bound hands she stroked his cock, then leaned into taste him, to take as much of him into her mouth and throat as she could. He groaned, low, then hissed when she released him, loving his taste, wanting to do more but waiting for her instructions. He stayed quiet, hovering near as she sat perched and still blindfolded on the edge of the bed. “Lay back,” he whispered. “Use this,” he untied her hands and placed a cool, glass dildo in one of them. “Make your self come. And you can, but slow, easy, I want to watch.” He kissed her deeply, in that somewhat subtle way he had, teasing but at the same time owning her, putting his mark on her with his lips and tongue.She flopped back and did as she was told, teasing her clit with the glass toy, then using her finger as she pressed the thing inside her drawing out the climax, feeling her whole body clench and pulse and release. “God I love that,” he said, now stretched out beside her, his erection pressed against her hip. She lay there, gasping, attempting to regain her equilibrium, not really wanting to emerge from the place where he’d taken her. “Now, come on up here for a ride.” She turned her head and met his wicked gaze. He raised a dark eyebrow, then the hand that had been stroking her stomach gave her hip a hard smack, making her shiver in anticipation.She scrambled up to straddle him, taking him inside her with a quick tilt of her hips. They both groaned at the sensation. He smacked her ass as she rode, using him to satisfy her, to bring on another mind blowing orgasm. “That’s it,” he said, his voice hoarse, his eyes closed against the urge, she knew, to gain his own release. “Now, roll. I need to fuck my wife.”They rolled and the sensation of him filling her, taking his own pleasure from her kept her breathless. “Tell me,” he gasped at one point. “Come Jack. Come inside me….I want it.” She said, fisting her fingers in his thick black hair and meeting him thrust for thrust.He did with a low groan and a sigh into the damp skin of her neck. “I love you so much,” he said, kissing her again.They lay tangled in sheets, their bodies cooling, Jack lightly snoring. She traced a finger along his stubbled jaw, marveling at this, at him, at her luck finding him and at how much they had been through. She settled into his shoulder, draped an arm and a leg over him and took her own refractory nap.
                                    *****Jack woke with a start, a unbelievably real nightmare still rattling around in his subconscious. His breathing was short. He was covered in a slight sheen of sweat. He reached for her, needing to feel her, kiss her. But the bed was empty. He lay there, alone, coming to terms with the sounds down the long hall behind the closed bedroom door. Sara. Where was she? Why had he dreamt about…about…he shook his head, dispelling the demons of unconscious fear to a far corner. He had a ton of work yet to do. It was Thanksgiving eve, his clock shone eight o’clock, he’d been asleep for about forty-five minutes. He put his feet on the floor, shook his head again forcing the horrific images of himself, his children, mourning her—Sara. Jesus. Ridiculous. He sometimes did that, worried himself into a bad dream about one or more of his family members. But this one—damn it had been vivid.It clung to him like spider webs as he pulled his jeans back on, found a clean shirt and wandered out to find the Gordon kids in full-throated argument over something, probably nothing. He ignored them as best he could, still seeking Sara, as that damn dream would not leave him. She was unloading the dishwasher, also ignoring the kid fight. He grabbed her, tugged out the holder and buried his face in the tumble of her dark blonde hair, sucking in huge, reassuring breaths of her. She hadn’t taken a shower. She smelled like him. And he liked that. A lot. “Okay, so you deal with World War Three in there.” She turned and kissed him lightly before moving out of his embrace. He gripped the cold granite counter edge, grinding his teeth and berating himself for being such a sap over a nightmare. “I’m gonna go pick up the birds.”They’d ordered three huge turkeys to feed the crowd headed their way tomorrow. Zingerman’s had smoked one, barbequed one and baked the other in the traditional manner. They were something like twenty five pounds each and Sara had already worried about it not being enough. He assured her that while they were grown men, and professional athletes to boot, they were also bringing dishes to share. There would be so damn much food it would be obscene. He took a breath, smiled at her, and watched her put in her coat and gloves before disappearing into the garage with a lightly blown kiss.He squared his shoulders. The kid noise had escalated alarmingly. He waded into the fray, sorting out who had done what to whom, figuring it was, as usual, Brandis instigated, something about reading an online diary and tweeting out a deep dark secret of his younger sister’s. Katie was in town for the holiday and had been giving her younger brother what-for over the sounds of Bethany’s tears and screaming accusations. He separated them, got the stories, figured out that it was less about what Brandis had tweeted and more about that he had been such a jerk as to read her secrets.He reminded Bethany that keeping a diary on the computer was probably unwise even if her system was password protected. He told Katie it was admirable of her to stick up for her sister but that calling her brother a perveted shit-head might be a bit much. Then he opened his son’s bedroom door and watched a few minutes while the kid tossed a football up and down over his face, concentrating, unaware that Jack even stood there. Brandis was tall already at fifteen going on twenty-one, and was turning his mischievous nature into a bit of a mean streak that worried he and Sara both. Jack observed as the ball went up and down, right into Brandis’ talented quarterback hands. He had such amazing potential—for good and evil, like most boys Jack supposed. But something about his own son frightened Jack at times. The way you might raise a lion you caught in the wild, trained it up to be a furry, lovable housecat but woke one day to find a full-grown, male predator sitting in your living room, looking at you like you resembled dinner.He cleared his throat. The football tumbled to the floor. “Okay son, let’s figure out a good punishment. That was a total asshole move. Why did you do it?”They talked a while, comfortable, easy, no predator in sight, and established that Brandis would have to be confined to the Gordon house for a couple of weekends in a row. Not being able to move around, as it were, to come and go as he pleased, was the worst sort of punishment for a kid like this, Jack knew. “All right, let’s go,” he smacked the boy’s shoulder.“Where?” Brandis asked sullenly, dropping onto his back after snagging the football from the floor. “Work to be done, son. I’m getting your sisters in on it never fear. We gotta get this place set up for tomorrow.”“Why did you even do that? Invite all those people over?” Brandis rose, knowing better than to resist.“Because, it’s Thanksgiving and I’m thankful for this team and want them to know it and share the day with the people I love.”Brandis rolled his eyes. “Nice speech. So, a bunch of soccer dudes, huh?”“Some of them have very hot girlfriends.” Brandis shot him a look. Jack held up both hands before moving down the hall to pull his daughters from their rooms. “Not that I would notice of course.”By the time Sara returned and Brandis had carried in the turkeys which they had instructions to keep cold in the spare fridge then warm slowly in the morning Jack had all the rented tables and chairs set, the girls had draped them with deep maroon table clothes and had set up the long tables in the living room ready to receive the food orgy the next day. He smiled at his brood, moving around, laughing and joking and preparing their house for guests. He was such a lucky bastard. At one point Sara glanced at him, her face puzzled. He’d startled. Had he said something? The dream still lingered around his brain, making the whole scene take on a sheen of surrealism. Her eyes shone and she walked over to him, put her arm around his waist and leaned into him. Brandis had laid a fire and the kids were all piled onto the couch, seeking a movie to watch. Katie had made hot chocolate and set out five huge white mugs with the Stewart Realty logo on them on the ottoman. Bethany had a popcorn bowl ready to go. Jack closed his eyes a second, thanking a god he barely believed in for this, all of this. He leaned down and kissed Sara’s sweet-smelling hair then dropped into his large leather chair and let his kids wait on him a while.
                                    *****


Lila observed as her husband and daughter mixed, rolled, crimped, dusted, filled and baked half a dozen pies over the course of the afternoon. She herself had been given cookie duty so their double Wolff ovens were running at peak performance, accepting carefully crafted ingredients and producing delicious smelling desserts for the hoard of people expected at the Gordons the next day.“What possessed them to want to do this anyway?” she said, pulling another tray of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies out. “Not sure. But you know Jack, always looking for ways to mix it up. I think he thought to invite a few people, Metin, Rafe, Sophie and Brody and then felt bad because so many of the team can’t travel thanks to the friendly on Monday. So he extended the invite to everyone.”Rob wiped his cheek, leaving behind a streak of flour. She frowned, wanting to reach out and wipe it, to kiss him. But unwilling to do so. Words were etched into her brain, words on the small screen of her husband’s smart phone. From a number, no name attached. But clearly…she shook her head, determined not to let it ruin Thanksgiving.Tears welled in her eyes so she put the cookies on the cooling racks and left the large, busy kitchen, site of so many wonderful memories with her and Rob and their kids. Gabe was over at Brandis’s at the moment, helping carry in wood, set up tables, likely playing video games. Blair and Rob kept working, talking, laughing. She dropped into a chair and had a small cry, then wiped her eyes and sat, staring into the darkened yard. She and Rob had to have the conversation but it would wait. She would not ruin the holiday for her kids or their friends.
                                    *****Rob worked at lightening speed, pleased at how well his daughter took to the crust making process. The crust of a pie is the most crucial part, the foundation. If it were underdone, had too much milk in it the sogginess ruined whatever you put over it. If it were too brittle and broke apart it turned each piece into a jumbled mess. The crust—crucial. He looked up when Lila left the room without saying anything. A small nugget of worry nestled down in his chest.An image rose in his mind’s eye but he banished it, stuffing it in to the compartment he labeled “California” and kept working. After all the pies were done and cooling and the kitchen cleaned up, he wandered out, beer in hand to find Lila asleep on one of the leather couches. He sat across from her a minute, taking in her petite form, her delicate features, the contours of her well-loved body under a light blanket. Sighing, he got up and walked out of the room. He didn’t deserve her. Didn’t deserve to even be in the same room as her. Lila—the one good thing in his life, whose appearance in it had given him the sort of dimension he’d never thought he’d gain, and of course, whose body had borne his children. His, Blake’s….he leaned his forehead on the wall, breathless with loss and raw fury at himself.He stomped into the kitchen, dumped the beer down the drain and turned, fully intending to come clean to his wife. But by the time he’d returned to the living room, she’d left. Must have gone upstairs. He followed her, the old house steps giving off their familiar creaks and groans. He needed her, in his arms, now. He needed to make love to her, to bring her pleasure and find some of his own in the process. She was brushing her teeth, her back to him, dressed in a pair of silky shorts and a ratty sweatshirt of his from college. His mouth practically watered at the sight. He came up behind her, but she stepped aside without a word, rinsed, spit, wiped her lips and left the bathroom. Unhappiness rolled off her in waves. Rob brushed his teeth, stripped down to his boxers and climbed into the cold, dark bed behind her. He scooped her up, held her close, unsaid words choking his throat. His body hardened as his hands roamed up and down her, cupping her breasts, kissing her neck. She took one of his hands and put it between her legs and he stroked and teased her to a silent, shivery climax. When she rolled to face him, tears were streaming down her cheeks. He sat up, flipped on the lamp and stared at her. “What is it honey? Did I hurt you? God…” he wiped at her tears, kissed her, desperate for connection, to not know what he thought he already knew at that moment. Lila shook her head. “I…I…need you Rob. To be here, with me, just me.”“Of course, Lila, honey what is this….”But she shoved him onto his back and straddled him, taking him deep, her body gripping him in the familiar way he loved. It didn’t take long. And later, she lay across his chest, her small frame a perfect fit against his torso…so much different, so much more perfect than….No, Rob. Stop. Don’t. He held her close, kissed her hair and they slept that way, skin to skin until she rose to go the bathroom. When she returned, she stood, re-dressed, shivering, her huge dark eyes somber. “I think you need to go sleep down the hall.” She said. Rob attempted to focus his brain on her words. He sat up, staring at her, mouth hanging open. What had he done?
When he opened his eyes the next morning, he came face to face with Blair’s cat, which sat heavily on his chest, batting at his nose. He groaned, and stretched, trying to figure out where he was and why his back hurt so badly. The cat gave a small yowl of protest as he rolled, sat and glared at him from the floor as if to ask: “Really? This? This is worth what you did you sick, lame bastard?” Before turning giving him the cat-ass salute on its way out the guest room door.“Daddy?” Blair stood in the hall, wrapped in her robe, looking like such a little girl it broke his heart. “Why are you sleeping in there?”“Later Blair. We gotta get ready to go to the Gordons.” Lila opened their bedroom door then, and stood, glaring at him, Blair between them looking confused. “Yes, Blair, go get a shower. I’ll make some breakfast. Rob,” she said, briskly. “Wake Gabe up please and you guys go shovel the steps and walk. It snowed.” Then she moved past him without another word, leaving him to look at Blair, his heart somewhere in the vicinity of his feet.
                                    *****
Evan, Julie, Claire and June arrived first, hauling in half a dozen platters of appetizers. Katie and Bethany were playing food traffic cops, and pointed out the right spot before the doorbell rang again, revealing the Frietags. It took Jack about two seconds to suss out that his pal Rob was in the doghouse, big time. For what, he had no idea. Lila, his petite, quiet and efficient wife was not prone to the sort of explosions of spousal anger he got subject to on a regular basis. He glanced at Sara, met her eyes and without words conveyed that there was something up between Rob and Lila and it was serious. She nodded, smiled at her friend and guided her into the kitchen.Jack handed his friends each a bloody mary, they all clinked, and sipped. The silence emanating from Rob’s end of the small circle was deafening. Evan narrowed his eyes, Julie gave him a worried glance, then made her excuses to head for the female-dominated kitchen space. The men chatted about football, about the soccer team’s shot at winning their international friendly on Monday, then the doorbell rang again. A smiling couple flanked by two young men stood the man holding a small, pink wrapped bundle, and more cars were pulling up the long drive behind them. Brandis and Gabe were parking attendants. The grown was frozen solid and the boys were directing the cars onto the large front expanse of snow-covered lawn. “Welcome! Metin, Mel, boys…come on in, please.” “Where does the bread go?” Mel asked, pointing her sons into the room. They both held towel draped trays of home made yeast rolls.A small-boy shaped missile streaked past his shins, making him think for a split second that Brandis was little again and tearing around like the hellion he’d been. He snagged the kid by the collar and picked him up, grinning into the dark brown eyes of Sam Harrison, son Sophie, his chief legal lady and their former star goalie Brody Vaughn, who’d retired thanks to one too many concussions. Brody appeared and grabbed Sam, putting him up on his shoulders and shaking Jack’s hand. Sophie put her food contribution on the side dish table, then she turned and accepted a bloody mary from Katie with a smile.The house quickly filled. Katie adjusted the ambient music coming from the whole-house speakers. Jack tried to find Rob, to check in on him but the living and dining rooms were too crowded to spot him. Brandis and Gabe’s parking lot job was done and he’d put them on bartender duty, walking through the crowd making sure glasses stayed filled with whatever. The boys were doing their fair share of ogling the many hot WAGs that populated the room. He smiled a second, holding onto his cold beer glass, just observing the party evolve. He loved this moment, loved entertaining people in his house, with Sara. She loved it too. He spotted her, chatting with Nicco Garza who had a small boy up on his shoulders. Nicco and Parker were two of the original team members. They co-parented the small boy, Parker’s son with a woman who now ran the Black Jacks PR department. At that moment, Parker was on the back lawn, playing a game of snow soccer with a mix of team members, kids and significant others. These men were incapable of sitting still for long, Jack knew. So he’d made sure that both footballs and soccer balls were plentiful on the back patio, should a breakout game or three become necessary. It had not taken long.
After champagne toasts and the food line, Jack stood at one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching as the man-boys played another quick pick up game of footie. “Hey, boss,” Sophie stood next to him. “Nice place. Thanks for letting the inmates take over for a while.”He smiled and gave her a squeeze. Julie, Evan’s wife materialized on his other side and they all watched as the overgrown boys play actual boys and a few girls in the snow. Both of their husbands were out there, getting rowdy with the rest of the group. Julie leaned across Jack and squeezed Sophie’s hand. “I am so happy for you.”Sophie looked at her. Jack felt the moment squeeze down to something with potential disaster encoded into it, considering Sophie’s long ago history with Evan. But she smiled, and Jack blew out a breath. “Thanks Julie. I really appreciate it. And same to you.” She nodded towards Julie’s twin daughters, long, gorgeous blondes at the moment sitting on the hearth and flirting with a few of the declared bachelor team members. “Thanks.” The two women put their arms around him and gave him a squeeze. He laughed, kissed each of them on the cheek then made his way across the crowded room to snag Sam as he ran under the tables, being chased by Parker’s little boy, he forgot the kid’s name. He grabbed them both, stuck one under each of his arms and hauled them to the basement to show them the giant table full of legos Sara had pulled out of the bowels of the basement storage and set up for just this moment. The boys got straight to work building something. He turned and saw that June or Claire, one of the Adams twin girls was on the couch, playing FIFA soccer on the giant TV with Kago, the dark-skinned, official team clown, another original Black Jack team member. He watched as the two of them yelled at each other, deep into their game. At one point Kago yelped as June/Claire must have scored and she grabbed him for a hug. Jack shook his head. Poor Evan.He bounded back upstairs and almost ran smack into Rob, who was carrying a couple of empty pie plates from the nearly decimated table. “Whoa, hey, sorry.” He grabbed one of the plates before it hit the hardwood. “Hey, come in here a second and talk to me over a beer.”Rob sighed and followed him into the kitchen, which looked like a rampaging army had run through it. He shoved a few things aside on the table and grabbed a couple of beers from one of the coolers, opened them, handed one to his friend and held his up for a clink. Rob just stared at him, his eyes haunted looking. “Do I want to know?” Jack asked, sipping and suddenly terrified of whatever was going to come out of his friend’s mouth. Rob sighed, started to speak but they were interrupted by a clatter of noise when someone opened the back French doors and a bunch of the backyard players spilled into the house. “Hey, Brandis!” Somebody yelled. “Time for a real football game. Let’s go!” Jack saw his son stride across the living room, drag his eyes over every girl in the room, then snag a football and turn to the crowd. “Ten minutes. Battle for rights to the video game later! Rafe, you’ve got the other team, let’s go!”

                                                *****
By the time the outdoor war was won (Brandis’ team, by a touchdown) several couples and families had made their goodbyes. Sara sat in her favorite chair, nursing a glass of rich red wine, surrounded by her friends Julie and Lila, Sophie, the legal lady for the team, Melanie, the coach’s wife and Mo, her sister-in-law. The fire snapped and crackled. Her house was a stone cold disaster area, the kitchen piled with dishes and silverware and food. But she didn’t care. Julie sighed and stretched her bare feet towards the fire. “You guys headed out to Manistee tomorrow?” she asked Sara, sipping her own glass, and staring into the flames. “Nope. Jack and Brandis want to ski so they’re going up to Boyne. The girls and I will be engaging in some serious retail therapy. Wanna join us?” Sara watched as Blair, Katie and Melanie’s sons Zach and Tanner played Euchre at one table. Bethany had a couple of the little boys corralled for a game of Battleship at another. Jack had told her he would pay her to be a babysitter/ kid distractor and the girl never turned down the opportunity to please her father, or take his cash. Brandis was downstairs with Gabe and a bunch of the soccer players, killing people on a video game, if the sounds floating up the steps were any indication. The house smelled of outdoors, firewood, desert, coffee and candles. She sighed and stretched, thankful the party was, for all intents and purposes, over. Evan, Jack and Rob came in from outside, where some of the other, non-video playing men were still kicking around a soccer ball.  She wondered, at that moment, if her life could be more perfect. Jack stopped and put his ice-cold hand down the back of her sweater, making her screech and leap up. He grabbed her, kissed her long and deep, then whispered into her ear: “I am most thankful for you, wife.”She grinned into his lips. “You’d better be.”Evan and Julie were standing by the fire their arms around each other. When Rob had come in with the others, Lila had excused herself. “What’s up with them?” She asked, watching Rob plop into the chair his wife had just vacated. “Not sure. We keep trying to talk but getting interrupted.”“Go, find out.” She gave him a shove. Brody had reappeared and he and Sophie were gathering up Sam’s toys. Metin had taken the now-crying baby girl from Melanie and was wandering down the hall, crooning  to calm her while Mel snagged her boys from the card game. The party’s final groups were breaking up. Sara looked forward to the usual gathering of her best friend stragglers—but for that strange thing brewing between Rob and Lila. She watched Jack say something to Rob near the fireplace, then the two men headed for the formal living room and the bar. The various players and their wives, or girlfriends made their thanks and farewells, gathered up their dirty serving dishes and headed for the door. It was nearly dusk now, and snow was falling again. Brandis and Gabe stayed downstairs and the rest of the team shuffled up the steps.“Hey, where’s Kago?” One of them asked. “He’s my designated driver.” A tall, blonde, extraordinarily good looking player asked, glancing around. The others shrugged, muttered, took their coats from Katie. So much testosterone in the room, it was heady. Sara smiled, accepted hugs, kisses, a little woozy from the wine and all the good looking men in the space.“Yo, Kago!” One of them called down the steps. “Where in the hell…?”“June!” Evan stepped around the crowd, his face angry. Katie glanced at Sara, then slipped down the back hall towards the bedrooms. Sara tried to distract Evan, and shot Julie a look when she appeared at her husband’s shoulder, carrying a stack of empty serving dishes towards the kitchen. “What?” She asked.“Where the hell is June?” He demanded, arms crossed, eyes blazing. Julie rolled her eyes and elbowed past him. Sara knew they had a lot of discord over the girls’ active social lives. It drove Evan a hundred percent nuts that they even had such a thing, much less as robust as one as they apparently had. “She’s around…move out of the way Country Club. Make yourself useful.” She shoved the stack of plates into his hands just as the entire group turned at the sound of a door shutting behind them in the hall. Katie stood with June, both of them looking sheepish. Even frowned. “Where have you been?” He demanded. But Julie started shoving him towards the kitchen. Not soon enough though. Sara groaned inwardly when the missing soccer player appeared behind the girls, hands tucked into his pockets and looking a little stunned. “Oh, well, great,” Evan started spluttering. But Sara and Julie both pulled him into the kitchen so Kago could get his coat and leave sans an angry father scene. “Jesus,” he muttered, putting the dishes down and rubbing his forehead.  “Relax,” Sara soothed, rubbing his shoulders. Then, when he turned and glared at his wife across the kitchen, she made some unheard excuse and left them to their discussion. The house had mostly emptied now, but she had no idea where Lila had gone. She grabbed more dishes and blew out candles on her way through the living room. Jack and Rob were sitting across from each other in the formal living room chairs, heads bent together in discussion. She frowned when Jack sat back as if Rob had slapped him, a stunned look on his face.  Then she turned and saw Lila standing by the front door, her coat in her hand, eyes full of tears. Sara set the dishes down and pulled her friend into the kitchen where Evan and Julie were still arguing.“Break it up,” she shoved Evan aside. “Go. Be with your man friends. This is now a female zone.” She mimed drawing a line around the kitchen. “You might catch a germ. Beat it.”Evan snorted and spluttered but backed out. Sara poured them all a glass of wine, shoved more crap out of the way on the table pushed Lila gently into a chair. “What is going on with you guys?” She asked, grabbing her friend’s hand. Lila took a long breath, fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “I’m…it’s…he…”But the women were interrupted by the sounds of Brandis and Gabe thundering up the basement steps, arguing about something. Lila stood. “We should go.” She said.Sara and Julie looked at each other. “Well….we’re here. You know, to listen.”“I know. I’m not…I can’t talk about it. Sara, this was an amazing party. Thanks for doing it. I think everyone had a lot of fun.”Julie eyeballed her daughters who’d just wandered into the kitchen. “Yes. Some of us had a lot more fun than others it would appear.” June stuck her tongue out at her mother then ate a bite of pie. Claire stood next to her, a solid wall of support as always. Julie sighed. Sara got up to referee whatever was going on between the boys but found Katie had cornered them into a game of scrabble to distract them, along with Blair.Her family and friends all around her—she put a hand to her throat, suddenly choked by emotion. Jack and Rob were standing now, Rob with his arms crossed over his chest, Jack still holding onto a beer bottle. Julie came out, wrapped her arms around Evan’s waist from behind, bringing a reluctant smile to his face. Sara wanted to go to Jack, to hold him, to have him hold and reassure her. But she saw Lila whisper something to Blair then kiss Gabe’s cheek before turning and walking past all of them, open the front door and close it firmly behind her. Rob stared at the closed door.  Blair stared at her father, then at her brother. Brandis snapped impatient fingers under her nose. “Yo, earth to Frietag. Your turn already!”She frowned at him, then focused back on the board. Rob walked to the table and grabbed the few remaining empty plates and headed for the kitchen in silence. Jack watched him, then looked at Sara, his eyes worried. She walked over to him then, went up on her tiptoes and kissed the tip of his nose, then his lips. “Tell me later?” He nodded, turned and cranked up the tunes. As the sound of the Rolling Stones blared through the house the adults all started dancing, much to the embarrassed chagrin of the kids, until Bethany jumped into the fray, joined by Little Black, Mo and Rafe’s little boy.  By the time the song shuffled to, of all things, Don’t Stop Believing by Journey, everyone except Rob who stayed in the kitchen was dancing and singing in the middle of her large living room. She smiled when Jack grabbed her ass and pressed her close. He bit her earlobe, making her shiver.“Great party baby. As always.”“Same to you Jack. As always. Happy Thanksgiving, my love.


The end.
Buy Good Faith Here. If you have read it, be sure to leave a review here!
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If you made it this far and will leave me a comment telling me if you are a current or new fan of the Stewart Realty series and which book is your favorite, I will be awarding One Free Signed Stewart Realty Book of the Winners' Choice---to not one, not two but THREE LUCKY WINNERS! Winners are chosen by one of my famous random drawings, and which will be shown on my Facebook Fan Group on December 3, 2013! 

                                               

Wrong Place? Maybe…The Serial Continues….

Welcome to the 2nd installment of the Liz Crowe Serialized Novel Project:
Wrong Place. Wrong Time.

If you are just now seeing this thing, get caught here.

Otherwise….carry on…enjoy….



                                                       Chapter ThreeAlex couldn’t breathe. She could literally not suck in air as she stared at the young man, the object of her fairly overheated fantasies lately, as his last words swirled through her brain. She stumbled back, almost fell over a chair. The second time he grabbed her arm to steady her within five minutes of making her breathless for other reasons. She yanked out his grip and let a stew of anger and disbelief cloud her vision. “What in holy hell are you talking about?”Lucas swallowed once. Put some distance between them. “There is a discrepancy in the escrow accounts, fairly deep down in the financials, and the amounts box exactly with large sums getting deposited and withdrawn from your bank accounts.” She tried to register what he was saying, but something gnawed at a corner of her consciousness. Something Jay had said about two months ago. “You know,” he’d been wining and dining her at that time, trying to lure her to his bed. She’d been ready to tell him to stop trying so damn hard, just ask, she was bored enough to do it without all the fuss. “The board wants to shut down this division. The Eastern European branch is losing money. Move us all back home, or let us go.” He’d sipped his wine, stared into its deep purple depths. “I have to give them reasons not to. Or reason to, whatever I like, I guess.” She’d let him babble on, barely hearing him. His ego was enormous.  Everybody knew this. His delusions of grandeur combined with a fierce competitiveness made him who he was. “I don’t want to leave here though. It’s an amazing place. Wish we didn’t have to.” He had pinned with a blue glare then, as if willing her to offer some advice. When she’d stayed quiet he went on. “Wish there were a way to keep things exactly like this, forever.” Alex didn’t fool herself into thinking Jay Reynolds loved her. She was convenient, a challenge at first, and his equal in many ways. He’d get bored with her soon enough. And she didn’t trust him any further than she could throw him. She put a hand to her throat, snapping back to the present. Lucas still stood, arms crossed, giving her the oddest look.“Oh fuck.” She shoved past him, hit the down button on the elevator, shutting him out as she got her head around something she did not wish to acknowledge. That she’d given Jay access to all the internal server passwords. “For research,” he’d drawled, trying to kiss her in his office for the millionth time. Typically only the CIO held those, for top to bottom security. They changed nearly hourly but she’d given him the key to access the encrypted files. She’d trusted the asshole, against her better instincts. “Holy shit, I’ve been…played?” Tears burned but she forced them away as she raced to her computer in her office, fired it up and stared at her bank accounts.

Lucas watched as the doors shut between them, his body zinging in ways entirely not suitable for work. Now was not the time to get attached to this woman but he sensed himself doing it already. They developed such a great working relationship he sometimes forgot why he was sent here in the first place. She was high strung and high maintenance but if you could get a handle on her temperament, sense the anxiety behind her inner control freak and embrace it, things went pretty well.  He sat, waited about ten minutes, then hit the elevator button and followed her down, trying to sort through the complex mix of emotion in his gut.He’d settled on simple relief that it was not her doing the stealing by the time he stepped into the near darkness of the foyer outside her suite of offices. He halted at the first sound, a strange, low decibel decidedly human noise, somewhere between a sigh and a whimper. He took the few steps to her half open door and peeked inside. She sat, staring at something in her hands below the desk. Her shoulders shook with what he mistook for laughter at first, then realized she was sobbing. He gulped and stepped back, unsure what to do. Marshalling his inner care taker, he pushed the door open, going with the “oh sorry for the interruption” mode of operation. She looked up, tears streaming down her face, shocking him to his core. Without really thinking about it went to her side, put an arm around her shoulders, and caught of a glimpse of a photo as she slid it into the automatically locking drawer. She rose, her classically lovely face wet, her incredible eyes glowing and really, really close to his…holy shit. Lucas closed his eyes when her lips met his.He gripped her hair, met her more than halfway as she walked him backwards until he his back met the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Bosporus. She parted his lips with her tongue, making him groan at the amazing taste of her, the press of her lean body against his. He couldn’t figure out where to put his hands. A joke, he mused, briefly as he settled on one gripping the back of her neck, the other sliding down to cup a breast. He’d been called Magnet, as in pussy, as in he’d been a player his entire adult life. This should be nothing new to him, but somehow it was.She broke the kiss, stared hard at him, and spoke. “I need you,” her voice ghosted through him, making his entire body harden in anticipation. But he reached deep, yanked out his inner nice guy and took her by the arms. “No, you don’t.” He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from flinging her over the tidy desk and fucking her six ways to Sunday. But something bugged him. “You don’t need him, and think you can purge it with me. But you can’t. The stakes are bigger than just who’s sleeping with whom and you know it.” She gulped, let him push her away. Then she turned away, giving him perfect back view, bringing that little devil guy to his other shoulder ready to arm wrestle Mr. Nice Guy into submission. She sank into her chair, hand over her eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “Pretty embarrassing.” He was at her side in an instant, tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes.“Can’t blame you for doing what I’ve been thinking about since I met you.” She blew out a breath, a look he recognized settling over her features. One of determined focus, regrettably no longer of lust. “Whatever. Go away.” She waved a hand, but Lucas was not about to be dismissed now. They had to talk. But not here. He didn’t trust this building.“Come on Alexa,” He held out a hand. “Let’s go get some ice cream.” She glared at him a minute, angry for using the softer, more feminine version of her name. But he knew her one major food weakness so he beckoned with his hand again. “You know you want to.” She rolled her eyes and stood, but avoided his hand. He grinned at her predictability, put a hand to the small of her back, relishing the warm potential of her, but biting back on it, realizing it for an impossibility. She jumped a head of him. “Don’t touch me.” Her voice was low, angry. Something in his lizard brain snapped and her grabbed her, forced her to face him, leaned into her lips.“Don’t pretend that didn’t just happen Alexa.” She tried to turn her face, tears brightening her eyes once more. “Look at me.” She did and Lucas sensed the first of a million moments with her that his heart would cease beating for a half second, leaving him breathless. He got closer, keeping mere millimeters between their lips. “We will revisit it. I promise you. But not now, and not here.” He kissed her, keeping it noncommittal and frustrating himself beyond belief. Then let her go and strode to the door, his body thrumming with lust and a strange new sensation. Something he’d not identify until many months later.
Alex ignored him all the way down the twenty plus floors to the marble and glass lobby. The obvious swirling erotic tension settled in her gut, making her sweaty and anxious but she jerked her libido back under control, smiling at him as they exited the building together, entering the slightly polluted atmosphere of the Istanbul evening. She started down the sidewalk, annoyed that he kept so close, as if they were a couple or something. Damn the man. And damn her for acting like a horny old lady up there, jumping all over him like a cougar. “It’s him, isn’t it?” Lucas’ first words startled her. She grimaced realizing exactly what he meant but unwilling to recognize it. “Well, if you mean ‘him’ as in the man who runs this company and is stealing from it and setting me up, then yeah, I guess so.” She tried to find a place for her suddenly awkward hands, settling on shoving them in her jeans pockets. The memory of his firm lips, his hands on her nearly bowling her over with lust. “This place has the best dondurma going.” Lucas touched her again, making her nearly leap out her skin and step out his reach. “Such weird stuff, but I love it.”  She sat, let him bring her a dish of the thick, sticky concoction. “Yeah,” she gave in to her hunger pangs and admitted addiction to odd combination of milk, sugar, mastic and salep—flour from an orchid.  “Chewy and strange, but good.” He grinned at her over his own dish and they ate for a while, silent, but comfortable. They guy had slid into her life and taken over, seemingly simpatico to her needs as an assistant. Amazing, since she’d fired every other one of her assistants within months of hiring them.  She squeezed her eyes shut at the memory, then opened them to find her staring at her.“We have to trap him. Force him to show his hand. Anything else and he puts it all on you. It’s a perfect set up, really.” Lucas kept eating, and Alex tried very hard not to stare at his full lips, his strong hands, the angle of his currently stubble covered jaw. She snorted, recalling the last night she’d spent with Jay. “He’s been so insistent lately. His divorce was final last week and the asshole brought me a damn ring. Tried to get me agree the fourth Missus Reynolds. Amazing.” She shook her head at herself, still unwilling to compute what the guy had been doing while simultaneously fucking her brains out and begging her to marry him. Lucas gave her a searching look. “How did he get access to your personal bank accounts anyway?” Alex shrugged. “I’ve left him alone in my place enough. I mean I encrypt so much stuff at work, I probably let my guard down some on the personal side. Don’t do anything as simple as clearing my browser on the laptop. You know. I’m a loner,” She gave him a little wave of a spoonful of the delicious frozen treat. He grabbed her hand, guided it to his mouth, making her nearly pant as he closed his lips around her spoonful of chocolate flavored goo. He grinned and let her go. “Cut it out,” she muttered looking down. “Sorry. Wanted to try the dark stuff. I’m pretty vanilla myself,” he raised an eyebrow at her, making her body heat up alarmingly. “I said, cut it out.” She frowned at him but couldn’t help but crack a smile at his goofy face. “You are impossible. What are you anyway? Fifteen? Twenty?”“I’m twenty-nine and completely impossible, yes.” He smiled and scooped up the last of his ice cream. “But I have an idea. And one I think we might both enjoy.”“I’m not enjoying anything about finding out I’ve been fucking played.” She shivered with a sudden chill, the swirl of emotions she’d experienced for the last hour or two almost overwhelming. She gasped when Lucas grabbed her spoon, set it down in the metal dish and held both her hands. The warmth of his touch eased her some but also revved her libido back up to near earth shattering levels. “I know,” his naturally low, gravelly voice shot through her. “But,” she watched as he raised her hand to his lips, incredulous as his brazen, public display. “I think,” he brushed her knuckles with his lips, then did the same with the other hand. Her thighs shook. “We can set a trap that a guy like Jay Reynolds has no choice but to fall right into.” Alex glared at him, as realization hit her in the gut.She lifted her chin, leaned on her elbows, pressing her breasts together and giving Lucas a lovely view at the V of her shirt. “Hmmm…,” she let him slide his large hands down her arms, cupping her elbows and then up the pebbling skin of her biceps. “You may be right.”
He leaned back, shifting a little in his seat, making her smile. “I know I am. Now,” he draped an arm over the back of the chair. “Tell me about the girl, the one in the pictures in your desk drawer.” Alex frowned, started to stand but he reached out and touched her again, his amazing green eyes alight. “I need to know everything about you if we are going to make this little charade work.” He let his hand linger on her skin. She took a breath, sat back down and changed her life forever by trusting him.

Reflections From the Not Quite Famous

By the time you read this, I will be likely collapsed in a quivering heap in the corner of the room, with my loved ones giving me a wide berth between bouts of tossing food in my direction.

In other words, the Big Release and Signing / Party Weekend has ended.
I can now move on.
Or can I?







Reviewers have given me props for having "the balls" to do what I did in this book. Many are "ripped up" by it but "understand what I did." Some are positively gushing about the "epic nature" of it. Others are still pondering their book hangovers while figuring out just how to feel about it. Many others are, to put it mildly, pondering the "Misery" option with me I think.
So, what I set out to do worked.
I write what I like to read, period.
So I wrote a book that I would have enjoyed reading full of nuance, depth, layers of characterization, including having characters who act like real people act, not the way cookie cutter heroes and heroines might.  
It was tough.
And will continue to be.
But it was a fucking buzz this weekend and I am so grateful for the help of so many who support me both in person and on-line!
And for those of you who made it your personal mission to try and ruin it for me? You lost. Go find something productive to do instead. 

my brewery gang, and their Blue Steel faces…..
This week I'll be posting the second installment of my Serialized Novel Project: Wrong Time. Wrong Place. Read the first few chapters here.
In the meantime, I hope you will join the conversation or at least grab a copy of GOOD FAITH and read for yourself….it is not for the faint of heart, but it is definitely for anyone who loves a juicy novel of real life twists and turns….heartache and recovery….and everything in between.


And Now…Hans Sez….get yer ass back to work Liz….there are new projects to conquer….more tales to tell….fit it in around more incessant promotion but GET BACK TO WORK!

cheersLiz

Across the Beer Bar with PK Hrezo

Across the Beer Bar with PK Hrezo
Welcome to my beer bar PK! What can I pour for you to start? And while I pour, tell us about your name…
Thanks so much Liz! I’ll have a Guinness.  So PK is actually what I’ve been called my entire life. Stands for Paulette Kay. My dad was Paul, and he named me. My mom didn’t love the name, so nicknamed me PK and it just stuck.  As for my last name, well I married into that sucker. LOL. It’s Czech in origin and pronounced with the H silent and E soft.
And, once again, I am forced to 'splain:I only serve the actual beer we actually craft in this actual building. Guinness is made in something like a dozen buildings around the US (the kind you drink in the US. The only decent Guinness is made in Ireland.) So, I'll serve you my brewer's take on a stout, since I assume that's what you meant to say.
I am so intrigued by your blog. You have a zillion followers, always get a ton of comments on your (very good) posts.  How did you get started doing that?
Aw, thank you! That’s so nice to hear. Although blogging is a fun way to connect with others, I take it very seriously.  My readers are my friends and I treat them as such. I started 3 years ago and had no idea what I was doing, but I got in there and started visiting as many blogs as I could, actively commenting and learning what kind of content I wanted to post for my own blog. It was a slow build at first, but once I got going, I made lots of great friends. It’s very time consuming, but in a good way. Bloggers who want to be successful have to interact with their readers and if possible, return visits. 
And this amazing Time Travel book….tell us about that.        
Butterman (Time) Travel, Inc. is my debut. It’s a New adult sci-fi romance that reads much like a futuristic contemporary. I’d been wanting to write a time travel story for awhile, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. Then one day it hit me: a time travel agency. This concept was so fitting for me, since I’ve worked for an airline for 16 years. I know all the ins and outs of commercialized travel, and have worked with travel agencies first hand for years. Putting the concept together was so obvious to me. The rest was just pure fun. I had the time of my life writing this story!

Is this your first book?
I’ve written about 6 novels to date, but this is my first publication.

Oh look! An empty glass….what is next for you?
Oh man, I’m full after that Guinness. How about some water? Bo-ring, I know. But I’m a light weight. ;)
(makes note to locate authors who can drink more than one beer….)
And so what is next for you? Doing the NaNo thing? Got more books in process? Fill us in on your plans for 2014.
No NaNo for me this year, though I’ve done it in the past. 2014 will be busy. I’ve got a sequel to write for Butterman, and a special project to collaborate on. I also hope to have Butterman Travel Part 3 out by the following year, if not sooner. Dreaming big, right? But a girl’s gotta have goals. 
You have a very intriguing website: Down the Rabbit Hole. Tell us a little about that concept.
I wanted something different—fun for readers. And something that showed my personality. I’m very outside the box. A little crazy, a little weird, and super unique. They say authors need a professional website with their name as their domain, but I prefer to be different. That’s just how I roll.                                                In addition to writing, I handcraft pixie ornaments with their own personalities, so my website features that as well.
And finally, a nightcap—what’s your poison?
Ah, feeling lighter now. How about a shot of Turkey? That should warm me up. I should mention I’m not a big drinker, but I worked behind a bar for many years in my own new adult years, so I know my stuff. ;)                                             Thank you SO much for having me Liz! This was a blast! We must do this again sometime. Cheers! (makes every attempt NOT TO POUND THE BAR when I say for the zillionth time….this is a craft microbrewery NOT a "bar" ergo….there is no "Turkey" here for you.)

My Links:
GoodReads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/18633268-butterman-time-travel-inc
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00G9ADV2O
My Blog: http://pk-hrezo.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authorpkhrezo
Twitter: https://twitter.com/pkhrezo
Website: http://down-the-rabbithole.com/


We did  little trade off interview. You can catch me at her blog today with a fun interview about how my life as brewery person influenced my writing. 

So An Author Walks Into A Local Bookstore….

Just thought I'd jump in here and make a few quick observations:
1. Waaaaaaaay back in the spring/summer (before the book was even done, frankly) my publisher was asked if I would be willing to have a book signing for Good Faith at the local "big box" store a.k.a. Barnes & Noble. Since I had literally just been told "no thanks" by an indie store when I asked them about hosting me….well...Would I?  (Oh, an, um, they want me back when we release the Black Jack Gentlemen in print.)

2. "Supporting local" has taken on a whole new meaning for me personally. As another "big box" store (Whole Foods Market--the one on Washtenaw, mind you. Ann Arbor has 2 of these suckers) has been hugely supportive of my brewery. And is hosting my book signing after party on their mezzanine.

3. This week is nuts, what with party planning, and fingernail chomping over the release. BUT it's pretty awesome when you pop into said LOCAL Barnes & Noble and your book is featured at the customer service counter. And then, when you tear up a little like a big old baby (what? this book is important to me on so many levels) and touch it 4 or 5 customers turn and talk to you about it, and the management comes out to take photos and tell you that in the next day or 2 the WHOLE SERIES will be out and featured.  

4.  I need a drink. Shit just got real. You'll see what I mean once you get your paws on this book.


Carry on, 
Happy Reading. Hope to see you Friday AND / OR Saturday! 

Liz

In Praise of the Small House

Settle in folks and let me tell you a little story….it's a sexy one….and it began in the after hours hallway of a downtown Ann Arbor fictional real estate office…

'FLOOR TIME' is the first book in what was to become a successful series for me.  

No, it is not on the New York Times Bestseller list. Hell, I haven't even made it to USA Today's list (I think I may have pissed somebody off there once...but whatever).  

It is, however a fan favorite and will continue to form the foundation of what I like to call the Liz Author Arc.

We all know what a "story arc" is.  Well, actually there are a shit ton of theories and nonsense out there about this very simple term. But here is MY version of of it: The arc of a story, be it long, short, or in between, is the journey a character makes through life--the ups, the downs, the horizontals, the mistakes, the triumphs and, ultimately, The End.

My own personal Author Arc began quite literally, with the formulation of the following scene:

(from FLOOR TIME, by Liz Crowe ~ Tri Destiny Publishing ~ All Rights Reserved)


Still sitting at her desk on a Friday night, Sara had never felt so exhausted. She'd spent the past two weeks focused on nothing but the damn deal with Jack. He'd taken the opportunity to get all friendly with her and they'd had some long chats. He loved to text message her with thinly veiled messages about hooking up, but he never managed to ask her out on an actual date. The annoyance crossed with irritation was a buzz.It had been an abnormally hot June. The office, full of people all day, had finally emptied. Sara had changed into comfortable clothes and faced a solid hour or more of work before heading home. She'd just pulled her hair up into a ponytail and focused on her computer – when her phone buzzed."Hey, Sara, I'm driving by your office right now." The sound of Jack's deep, raspy voice touched off something in her, as it did every time. Her brain slowly processed that he proposed a face-to-face encounter. Like now."Are you there? As if I didn't know?" he laughed. "I have a document for your buyer and I thought I'd just drop it off and save us some time."Shit.She glanced down at herself. Sara loved spending her hard-earned money on great clothes, but didn't have any of them with her tonight. She ran into the office bathroom, yanked out the ponytail holder in her hair, and tried to remember if she had lipstick in her purse."Sure!" she claimed brightly. "I'll meet you at the door."She used the toothbrush she kept in the office bathroom closet, and splashed water on her flushed face. Anger at the fact she felt nearly frozen in place by the idea of Jack Gordon – that he planned to simply "stop by" after hours to see her made her dizzy. In spite of her resolve to be strong, something yearned for him, in a way that utterly terrified her.Yeah, well fuck that. Of course he's interested in you.She pep talked herself all the way to the front doors – a wide expanse of glass facing Ann Arbor's main street. She heard the roar of his engine before she saw the car. Sara rolled her eyes. A Stingray. What else?Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself against the coming onslaught. She had work to do and would not be distracted by this – she couldn't afford to be. But her body began to betray her; her panties already damp at the thought of him in her personal space. It was a familiar feeling. She'd been having wet dreams about him for the better part of a year. She sighed, determined that he'd likely never measure up to her fantasies but realized her hands shook as she reached for the door handle.Yeah, OK, girl, settle down. This is Jack Gordon, every woman's dream date. But he's only here with paperwork.She shook her head, looked up and there he was – all six foot, four inch, dark hair, blue eyes, sexy white smile, of him. Resisting the sudden compulsion to look away, to not meet his eyes, she smiled back."Hey gorgeous," he began as he always did on the phone, his voice a low growl that matched his car engine's rumble. "I've got something for ya.""Ha, I'll just bet you do," she threw back. Lame, she thought as she took in the sight of him in his dark blue suit trousers, striped dress shirt with French cuffs emphasizing what had to be an incredible torso, arms and chest. Jack boasted a classic male shape – wide shoulders tapering to a slim waist and long legs – and he wore a suit better than anyone Sara had ever seen. His red and yellow tie, which stopped just short of being loud, flung over his shoulder from the ride. He smelled great too, some combination of spice, cigar and leather.Damn. I'm screwed."No, really. My asshole seller agrees to your asshole buyer's requests post inspection. I've got it all signed up here. Now all we lack is a good appraisal, and we are golden my lovely!""You call all the girl agents that, I'm sure." She sighed and reached for the paper he held out, grazing his hand in the process.His skin was warm. No, not warm, hot, as if he'd been near a fire. She shivered, and the tingling in her scalp crawled down her spine and settled nicely between her legs.She drew back. He moved forward to fill the empty space between them. Their silhouettes darkened the entry foyer. He remained shy of touching her – keeping just out of reach."You know, I was looking for an excuse to see you in person," he said. "I'm really gonna miss our little evening chats once this deal is done.""Yeah, well, you know where I live." Sara waved in the general direction of the office as her breath caught in her throat. "I, um, gotta do some, you know, busy work tonight so. . . " Don't go...don't go... don't go.... Sara tried not to let her face betray her inner begging."So do I – but I just can't help thinking that we could come up with something a bit, I don't know. . . more fun to do together," his voice tempted"Um, yeah, I guess we could go out if you want, but I'm not really dressed for it." Sara's brain fogged over. Was he asking her out on date? Before she could respond, react or even move, his lips covered hers.Her mind immediately grasped the fact that the entire downtown of Ann Arbor could see them sucking face in the vestibule of her office. Her manager would really not be pleased.Oh dear Lord.As he became more insistent, Sara responded, her psyche screaming with happy release. His lips were softer than she would have thought, but became increasingly more demanding that she share and open her mouth to him. She gave in, parted her lips, and placed her hands on his chest with her last bit of resistance swirling down the drain.He licked her lips, nipped at her bottom one, and then swept inside, possessing her with his tongue. She gave way, fully aware that this guy, wanted by so many, held her, right there, and had reached under her hair to tug her closer. Sara had not fully acknowledged her level of own horniness until that moment – when the man who represented everything so wrong for her prepared to blow apart her world with the touch of his hands and mouth.Jack had kept distance between them during their initial contact, as if gauging how she would respond before committing himself. Once she green-lighted him with her body language, he moved closer, grasped the back of her head with one hand, his fingers twisting and threading through her hair.Any and all hesitation disappeared completely as he deepened the already toe-curler of a kiss. His other hand traveled the length of her back and reached up again to cup her head. He flitted over her ass, teased, seemingly determined to draw it out until she asked for more. Her traitorous arms wrapped around his neck, as she rose up on her tiptoes.Oh my God don't do this Sara. Just. Don't. But the compulsion that had built over the past year commanded her, and she molded her body to his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. A loud knock on the glass made her jump away and run her hand through her hair as the college kid on the other side laughed and mimed a blowjob, until his buddies drew him away.She glanced up at Jack, saw that his skin flush with anger or passion, she wasn't sure. He smirked as he watched the guys' retreat into the soft Michigan summer night then turned to face her. His face remained inscrutable, but when he turned that sapphire gaze back to her, she had to reach back and grab the wall or risk doing something truly alarming, like fling herself at him.Where in the hell had that come from?She shook her head, took a step back. Before she could speak, he was in her space again, running a finger down her face, Gentle, but without a doubt, in complete control."Sorry Sara, I just couldn't help myself." His rough voice made her skin pebble. "Let's lock up here. You grab your stuff. We'll go somewhere for a drink."
He followed her inside the second set of doors, close enough so she could smell him – a unique combination of soapy manliness, expensive cologne and lust. Her chest constricted. She had no business there with him reacting like that. Danger signals flashed in her vision. He reached up and flipped off the lights as she rounded the corner of the front desk on her way back to her office. She turned around to tell him not to bother with them—that they kept that set on, and ran straight into his neck. He pulled her to him and muttered into her ear as she struggled to disentangle herself.
-----As I mentioned, I got my fair share of rejections, both kindly and not so much (one fairly well known publisher suggested I keep my day job and stop "bombarding her" with submissions. That hurt. But I did not let it stop me).Because you see, gentle Liz bloggy follower, IF you wish to be published, even by yourself without any publisher's help, "rejection" is the name of your game now. Because once your book is out there, it is still available for "rejection" via "readers and reviewers."So what I'm here today to suggest is that you do some homework and dig deep to find yourself a small publisher, one willing to hold your hand, boot you in the ass, and help you along to find your voice.  I'm not dissing self-published people. Many of them are making a hell of a lot more money than I am at this thing. But I'm suggesting that in general, most budding authors needed what I got: a very small publisher excited about their voice and potential who is willing to sit through a fair bit of hair-pulling and gnashing of teeth to get to the nugget of a good story or 2 (or in the case of me and my small publishers: 20 good stories).
Between both Tri Destiny and Decadent Publishing I received an entire year or more's worth of Hard Core Editing and Real Life Lessons in the Scary World of Publishing. Evil lurks around every bend in the form of both glowing reviews and scathing ones and everything in between including bloggers with agendas that are unfathomable to anyone but themselves. I will be ending the Stewart Realty series that began with FLOOR TIME in a little over a week, with the release of GOOD FAITH, the final, stand alone, mainstream New Adult novel. And none of these amazing books---from the Jack & Sara trilogy (Floor Time/Sweat Equity/ Closing Costs), through the Blake & Rob novel Essence of Time, into the Craig and Suzanne story Conditional Offer, past the aftermath of Essence of Time with Escalation Clause, around the world of Evan and Julie with Mutual Release and even back to Jack with his (free) back story House Rules--not a single one of them would be the way they are now: EXACTLY The way I wanted them to be, were it not for the determination, support and assistance of TRI DESTINY PUBLISHING.They even indulged me with a side series:


No, they don't have a ton of authors and they are OK with that so far as it gives them the time and space to offer everything from early onset "this is pretty good--now go back and re-write it and we'll continue to work on it"s to the well-thought out book and blog tours.  They LIKE offering this close-by support. And frankly, if you have some manuscripts polished and lurking or want a place to send that NaNo project may I humbly suggest them.You will not be sorry.  They have 3 of my stand alones too (one of which I gave them when I got rights back on it)



(this one should come with it's own cold shower)


and one of my favs ~ the one who netted me my first Official Liz Haters:

Plus this little something that my own brewery's art director designed the cover for


They are fairly picky of course. Not all submissions will be accepted. But if they see potential in you or your voice or your work, you will be thrilled at the sort of learning and publishing experience you will have in their capable hands. Here is some insight into their submissions guidelines (no, I do not work for them and do not get a bird dog fee for your novel so relax). *  Guidelines for Special Lines  *In addition to the above guidelines, some of our specialty lines have specific requirements.  Please check below and follow the specific requirements if your manuscript falls into one of these categories:Tri Destiny Romance – All submissions should have a strong romantic overtone.  It doesn’t have to be the main focus of the book (ie: romantic suspense) but there should definitely be a “couple” that has the reader rooting for a HEA (happily ever after) or HFN (happy for now) ending!  Sexual or sensual scenes are a necessary part of any good romance, but please remember it should add flavor and spice to the story, not be the story.   Please include “Tri Destiny Romance” in the subject line of your submission email.Sizzlin’ Books - Tri Destiny’s hot and spicy romance line.  Any story which contains heavy sexual content, BDSM, GLBT (M/M or F/F), ménages, paranormal or supernatural, or erotica will be considered for this line.  This line leaves a lot of room for creativity and inventiveness.  Please include “Sizzlin’ Books” in the subject line of your submission email.Young Adults (YA) – Submissions for YA consideration should contain no more than a PG-13-type content.  They should be appropriate for ages 12-18 (though we know some YA books do become beloved by many adults too!)  Explicit sexual scenes, graphic language, or overly mature situations will exlude a submission from this line.  Please include “YA line” in the subject line of the submission email.YA – Beacons of Light –  A special off-shoot of our YA line, submissions considered here will be ones which contain young adults as the main characters who face and triumph over a specific adversity (physical, situational, emotional, etc), thus becoming “Beacons of Light” (positive role models) for our younger readers.  A strong moral/value-based theme is a must.   Please include “Beacons of Light” in the subject line of the submission emailSpecial Submissions and Anthologies – From time to time Tri Destiny will have a call out for submissions to be included in a special line or anthology (holiday, summer, winter, etc).  We will post these open calls to our Facebook page as well as the Tri Destiny website along with any specific guidelines and submission deadlines.
Here is a link to the page that shows you the proper way to format your submission (formatting it correctly will get you past gatekeepers. That is key). http://www.tridestinypublishing.com/html/authors-wanted/submissions/#.Unk1B6Ve8tsGoing with a small publisher is not for everyone. If you can afford to pay for really GREAT editing and  cover art and want to not share your royalties, by all means join the self-published fray.  I myself enjoy the slight hand holding I get working with publisher(s). And I don't have time to be a publisher myself. And please do NOT assume that "just because you wrote it" means "it's perfect." Because it is not. Your first draft is an accomplishment but it's likely 10 miles of bad road on the way to the shit house. It is a first draft, a first step, a way to say you WROTE a book instead of blabbing about writing a book. And way to go you! Now, take a step away from it, have someone not your mom or bestie or aunt Edith with all the cats read it and take their suggestions to heart (that is to say NOT personally BUT professionally) then revise. Then revise again. Then check for errors, have your critique partners or edit pals do a proof read then…three…two…one…SUBMIT! I wish all you NaNo-ers and other random scribblers all the best luck in the world. Write! Edit! Revise! Polish! Submit! (and if you seek a great small house to help you get started, look no further than TRI DESTINY PUBLISHING!)
SO, TO CELEBRATE all you hard working authors and submitters (I'm among you, trust me) I am offering something VERY special: A shot at an Advanced Review Copy of GOOD FAITH!Click here to read blurbs and excerpts….Here are the rules: Leave me a comment below and tell me about your current writing project and how you plan to get it ready for either submission or publication (the 2 things should be damn close in the prep time). Tell me as much or as little as you like. And also tell me why you'd like to get a shot at this ARC which has been held very close to the vest, not offered to nearly as many folks as usual, for various reasons. WE WILL AWARD ONE EBOOK ARC ON Saturday, November 9, 2013. I GOTTA HAVE YOUR EMAIL IN THE COMMENT OR YOU CAN'T WIN 'CAUSE I CAN'T BLOODY WELL FIND YOU.
The owner of Tri Destiny Publishing will pick a worthy ARC winner from among the comments. 
Cheers!happy reading and writingLiz****small print***Liz Crowe has books with 3 publishers. Tri Destiny holds the rights to the majority of her books including the Stewart Realty and Black Jack Gentlemen series. In 2014 watch for a re-release of a new and improved (read: re-written) Brewing Passion Series (4 books set in a fictional brewery in Ann Arbor formerly released with a different publisher) plus 2 or 3 more Black Jack soccer stories with Tri Destiny.  She receives NO compensation for this endorsement. 

Once & Forever: An Anthology. Super Book Blast

Once and Foreverby Mary Blayney, Elaine Fox, Emelle Gamble, Lavinia Kent and Evie Owens
~~~~~~~~~~~~~  NOTE: 
The authors will be awarding an eBook copy of "Once and Forever" to five randomly drawn commenters during the tour, and a Grand Prize of a $25 Amazon GC to one randomly drawn commenter during the tour.

BLURB:
Once and Forever -  An anthology
By Mary Blayney, Elaine Fox, Emelle Gamble, Lavinia Kent and introducing Evie Owens
From five compelling authors, five original novellas which will make you laugh and cry, and believe in a love that once found will last forever. Meet a duke, a psychic, a bodyguard and a professor…and one "guardian fairy" in absorbing stories ranging from regency and contemporary romance to paranormal and women's fiction.
Playing for Keeps by Mary Blayney
Actress Kendall Marshall is determined to get an autograph for her sick sister from famous TV personality Mike O’Hara, the Oprah Winfrey of sports. In the process she meets his brother, security consultant Steve Marshall, lands a job on O’Hara’s show and gets in the way of a man set on causing big trouble. As the stalkers attacks escalate, Steve and Kendall are thrown together and find it impossible to ignore the chemistry between them.
The Princess & the Pinot by Elaine Fox
When a beautiful woman shows up at the Vineyard Inn, wine manager Kim is certain she’s been sent by fate for the inn’s owner, Cooper. Self-effacing to a fault, Kim knows she can’t hold a candle to Principessa Bella, who also seems to know even more about wine than Kim herself, but her heart has belonged to Cooper since they shared one kiss as teenagers.
While Prin sweeps easily into the job of sommelier at the renowned inn, Kim is afraid Prin will sweep just as surely into Cooper’s arms if she doesn’t do something about it. Can she tell Cooper how she feels without losing even his friendship?
Kim is willing to try except for one problem: she’s almost certainly losing her mind. Or is that belching, swearing, smoking, farting fairy – who claims to be trying to help her – real?
Duets by Emelle Gamble
Duets offers alternating looks into the lives of two women who would seem to have little or nothing in common.
Screen star Molly Harper is on the verge of marrying a man who has swept her off her feet, thought perhaps hasn’t swept all her feelings for her first love away. Anne Sullivan, happily married for twenty-five years, is fighting to hold onto the man she loves, and hold off a confrontation that could shatter her family’s image of what they are.
Duets confronts a past secret that ties these two women’s lives together, just as chance events turn Molly and Anne’s worlds upside down. 
Never and Forever by Lavinia Kent         
Never and Forever is the beginning of the love story of two people who shouldn’t belong together.  Molly, Miss Wilkes, runs an employment agency helping women of quality find positions perfected suited to their characters.  Although her father held the title of Earl for just over a week before his death, Molly has never wanted to be a lady.  She knows her place in this world – and it is not at the center of society.
The Duke of Radford also knows his place in this world – and it’s above everybody else’s.  He cannot imagine a world without all the privilege and power that comes from being Radford.  He’s had foreign princesses and heiresses dangled before him for years.  Why would he ever have interest in a simple woman who doesn’t even understand that she should want to be a duchess?
Can these two overcome the obstacles of their own beliefs and realize that love can make all things possible?
Never and forever are both a very long time.  Where will their love fit?
The Psychic Detective by Evie Owens
Psychic Martin Sterling doesn't trust cops--and the feeling is mutual. Detective Erin Healy needs more than a ghost story to save her job and reputation. Her partner is dead, a million dollars in drugs and money is missing, and all the evidence points to her.
Can a sexy psychic and a by the book cop, trapped between the living and the dead, unearth the truth? Or will a cold-blooded killer get away with it all...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excerpt:
(Contemporary Women’s Fiction – Emelle Gamble’s Duets)
“When are you thinking of having the wedding, Molly? And where?” Norma cleared her throat. “Here in LA or up at the Santa Barbara house?”
“In a couple of weeks, actually. At Cabo San Lucas. I think only two dozen people at most. It will be easier to keep the location a secret that way.” Molly clapped her hands together, throwing herself into the part of a thrilled bride-to-be. “It’s going to be perfect. I’ll wear your veil and your mother’s emerald earrings. Jason can give me away. Isn’t that what you always dreamed of? Me as a bride?”
Norma nodded. “Yes, I’ve dreamed of that.”
“Then be happy for me, Mom. For all of us. Please.” She folded her hands around her mother’s. “It’s a new chapter. And Ben’s perfect for me. Give him a chance and you’ll see.”
The limousine pulled into the driveway and a few seconds later stopped at the front entrance. Molly kissed Norma’s cheek and bounced out, directing the luggage removal and welcoming the family dogs that leaped around her like canine paparazzi at the sound of her famous voice.
But Norma didn’t move. A few moments later her chauffer opened the door and leaned inside. “Are you feeling alright, Senora?”
She pointed through the window at Molly. “My daughter is an excellent actress, Mr. Garcia. She looks very happy. But did you hear her say even once that she loved her fiancé?”
The old man shook his head. “No, I did not hear Molly say that.”
Norma nodded. “Ben Delmonico might be a lot of things, but ‘perfect’ for my daughter isn’t one of them.” 



~~~~~~~~~~~~~
AUTHOR Bio and Links:
Mary Blayney:
NY Times Best Selling author Mary Blayney’s first two romances were contemporaries published by Silhouette Books. Since 2000 she has been writing regency set historical novels and novellas for Kensington, Bantam and Berkley. Returning to the contemporary market with her novella in ONCE AND FOREVER, Mary hopes to continue to tell stories set in both the regency and the 21st century.             Married to a retired Coast Guard officer, Mary has lived all over the US from Alaska to Puerto Rico, but is now settled near Annapolis, Maryland within sight of the Chesapeake Bay. Her life close to the Coast Guard and its mission to search and rescue, has convinced her that life is best lived with joy, love and a generous heart. Those convictions are what she most wantS to share with her readers. Family will always play a strong part in her books since she believes that family relationships are as fundamental as the love between a man and a woman.
ONE MORE KISS:            “Mary Blayney’s newest Regency romance is a genuine pleasure to read”(NY Journal of Books)            “One More Kiss is a delightful combination of social comedy, slight mystery, and sweet romance. It’s a thoroughly charming novel, well worth a read.” . . .(NY Journal of Books)            MIRROR MIRROR anthology, “If Wishes Were Horses”             Debut at #3 New York Times Mass Market List October 2013            “Blayney's wish-granting coin entwines a pair of lonely adventure seekers in romance beyond their lives as a servant and a sergeant in her charming 1816 fantasy, If Wishes Were Horses. . . .” (Publishers Weekley, October 2013)
Links:
http://www.MaryBlayney.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mary.blayney
Elaine Fox
NY Times Best Selling author Elaine Fox began her career writing time-travel romances, such as Rita-finalist Traveler, and Impostor (both now available as e-books on Amazon and Barnes & Noble), then added historicals to the mix. After six books with Leisure Books, she moved to Avon to begin writing contemporary romances. Her first, Maybe Baby, hit the USA Today Bestseller list and eight more novels and four novellas followed, with several of them also reaching the USA Today list.
Most recently she participated in the anthology Mirror, Mirror from Berkley Publishers, which debuted at #3 on the New York Times Bestseller list.
Elaine lives just outside of Washington, D.C., with a small Cuban dog and a lovely Argentinean man. Elaine is trying to learn Spanish.
Review Quotes:
Praise for Beauty, Sleeping, in the anthology MIRROR, MIRROR:
“Fox introduces a charming ghostly television reporter to the woman who buys his haunted house in Beauty, Sleeping, a clever, turned-on-its-head version of Sleeping Beauty.” Publishers Weekly
Praise for HELLO, DOGGY!:
“HELLO, DOGGY! by Elaine Fox is a laugh-out-loud, character-driven story that will captivate readers from their first introduction to the lovable pooch and her dreamy owner.” Fresh Fiction
Praise for BEWARE OF DOUG:
“A must read.” Fresh Fiction
Links:
Email: authorelainefox@aol.com
Website:  http://www.elainefox.com 
FaceBook:  www.facebook.com/AuthorElaineFox           

Emelle Gamble
Emelle Gamble was a writer at an early age, bursting with the requisite childhood stories of introspection. These evolved into bad teen poetry and worse short stories. She took her first stab at full length fiction in an adult education writing class when her kids were in bed.  As M.L. Gamble, she published several romantic suspense novels with Harlequin. She has contracted with Soul Mate Publishing for Secret Sister, published in the summer of 2013, and Dating Cary Grant, a Spring 2014 release.
Molly Harper will be released by Posh Publishing in December, 2013.
Emelle lives in suburban Washington D.C. with her husband, ‘Phil-the-fist’, her hero of thirty years,  and two orange cats, Lucy and Bella. These girls, like all good villains, have their reasons for misbehaving. Her daughter, Olivia, and son, Allen, are happily launched on their own and contributing great things to society, their mother’s fondest wish.
Review Quotes:
Praise for Secret Sister
“Along with being a very unique and captivating plot, SECRET SISTER offers a shocking turn of the paranormal kind. So if you are the type of person that wants ordinary romance in a book, you won't find that here. This is a story of friendship, family, and most of all, true love and what those things can mean. I cannot recommend SECRET SISTER strongly enough… “ Fresh Fiction, Fresh Reviews
"If you're looking for a typical women's fiction/romance, don't look here... this story has a twist of the paranormal that will have you willingly stretching your belief in order to enjoy the plot. Emelle Gamble has created a story that will tear your heart out."  Long and Short Reviews
Links:
Email: emellegamble@aol.com
Website:  http:/www.EmelleGamble.com 
FaceBook:  https://www.facebook.com/Emelle.Gamble
Twitter: https://twitter.com/EmelleGamble
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/...    
Secret Sister  http://www.amazon.com/Secret-Sister-e...      

Evie Owens
Evie Owens was born in Japan, but grew up on a dairy farm in Upper Michigan. She's waited tables and tended bar, which makes her a very good tipper, but writing is her passion. She's thrilled to be included in this anthology with some of her favorite authors.
These days, Evie lives in Maryland while her two fabulous daughters and one glorious granddaughter live too far away. Leaving her no alternative but to turn to a life of crazy cat ladyness (except for the "cat" and the "ladyness" parts).

The Psychic Detective is Evie’s first published novella.
Links:  
Email: author.evie@gmail.com
Website:  http://www.evieowens.com 
FaceBook:  https://www.facebook.com/evie.owens.3...
Twitter: https://twitter.com/EV_Owens
Goodreads: Evie Owens
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4909958.Evie_Owens



Lavinia Kent
Lavinia Kent never knew that most people don’t make up stories in their heads to pass the time. She still has a hard time understanding how those who don’t survive the doctor’s waiting room or a grocery store line without another world to escape into.
Growing up in New York state and Wisconsin, Lavinia graduated from Wellesley College and, for reasons that are still not quite clear, also holds an MBA from Washington, D.C.’s Georgetown University. Lavinia has remained in Washington ever since.
She lives under the gracious (and usually benign) rule of Erzsebet, the cat, along with her husband, three children, one cockatiel, two rats, and Erzsebet’s younger, subordinate tomcat, otherwise known as The Golden Snitch.
As the mother of three, Lavinia finds “leisure time” to be ever-elusive, but when she is not reading romance novels, she watches far too much HBO and reality television. It must also be noted that she has an encyclopedic knowledge of all things Buffy and Doctor Who.
Lavinia was a two-term president of the Washington Romance Writers and is proud to be a four-time Romance Writers of America Golden Heart nominee.
She was excited (and humbled and thrilled and over the moon) about the publication of her first historical Romance, A Talent for Sin, in June 2009. Her second book, Bound by Temptation,was released in February 2010.  Her third book, Taken by Desire, is available in December 2010.
http://www.facebook.com/LaviniaKent
http://www.laviniakent.com
http://twitter.com/LaviniaKent

Wrong Time. Wrong Place. A Liz Crowe Serialized Novel Project

Welcome fans and yes, even you foes.

I want to share a free novel with you via this blog, in installments, the old-fashioned way!

No blurbs. No excerpts. No cover (yet--I will solicit ideas for this down the road!)


Without further ado…..

Wrong Time.
Wrong Place.
by Liz Crowe



Lucas Cameron, recently demoted FBI junior grade, didn't know which was worse: finding out that his target was an "Alexa" not an "Alex" or laying eyes on her for the first time. As she rose from behind her huge art-deco desk to greet him, his mouth dried and his body tensed. Her steely grey eyes revealed nothing. He tried to match her nonchalance but had to resist the sudden urge to wipe his palms on his suited legs before taking her hand. Forbidden images rose: her, bent over this desk, his hands in her hair, her back arched to...oh shit Luke, reign in the porn loop before it gets you in trouble yet again. He had no one but himself to thank for this latest exile to BFE. No need to revisit that particular near-career ending lapse in judgment. 
"Hello," her voice curled in his ear like a fog. He gulped. "I'm Alex. Looking forward to having you on board as my assistant."
He had to shake himself to ensure he said nothing stupid like, “will you marry me?” or “I’m not here to be your assistant.” Forcing a smile from his cracked lips he touched her palm. “Thanks, uh, Alex. Or should I call you Miz Trillium?” He kept his grip firm, but not too strong. He just prayed his hands didn’t feel as sweaty as he felt. Her throaty laughter sounded utterly sexy to his addled, jet-lagged brain. “No, no, don’t be silly.” She waved him to a seat and he took it before he collapsed or ran out of her office to beg for a different assignment. Lucas stared at the aggressively tidy desk top, took in all the details he’d been trained to: lack of photos other than one of Alexa with President Obama on his recent trip to Istanbul, tasteful yet understated fresh flower arrangements and a giant computer monitor. It could be any office of any high level executive in any multi-national company. He’d been sent here to prove the company had traded aviation technology secrets to a questionable source.Boring. Scut work. The “questionable source” wasn’t even anyone that dangerous. Just “questionable.” Lucas sighed and leaned forward, playing the part of eager new assistant and tried not to notice how perfectly his new boss’ silky blouse highlighted her breasts. Smiling without any real reason to, he turned on his portable computer and started taking notes on her upcoming week. If what he’d been told was true, Alex chewed through PA’s like the antacids she kept in a bowl on the table under the window. He needed to last a little longer than the various carcasses strewn between her office and the no-doubt luxurious, Bosporus view penthouse suite where she ate and slept. Hopefully all this would take would be a few months of gaining her trust and getting her passwords and nailing the CEO’s and perhaps his lovely new boss’ ass to the wall.He gulped when that very luscious ass rose from its leather seat and made its way towards him. She crossed her arms over her chest, leaned on her desk right smack in his personal space bubble and glared at him. He let his gaze travel up from black patent high heeled shoes that were the stuff of any man’s sex fantasy, along the exquisite expanse of leg revealed by her above-the-knee pencil skirt, rested a while on her no-nonsense manicure then finished the pleasant journey taking a round trip along the tops of her breasts exposed between the buttons of her shirt. Resisting the compulsion to lick his lips as he watched a pulse beating in her throat, he allowed himself a brief glimpse of full, lightly glossed mouth before…“You done fucking me with your eyes, or should I sit here quietly a bit longer?” She demanded, jolting Lucas out of his growing haze.  “Well? Do you need a refractory nap, or can we get to work now?” He nodded, still trying to form words. “Jesus,” the woman spit out, and stomped back around to her seat. “Where’d they find you anyway? The horny teenager posing as a man placement service?” Lucas sensed blood pounding between his ears and struggled to let fury and not lust win the fight for dominance in his head. “At least you have the manners to blush.” Her lip lifted in a half smile. Dear god but she was gorgeous. And, apparently, a bitch. Lucas choked back a retort. Just a few months, get the evidence and get out, he reminded himself once again.Smiling, he noted a few appointments he would suggest streamlining and the steady stream of email already filling his new email Lcam@TateLincoln.com inbox with requests for her opinion, her presence and her time. “Yes I'm done, and no, I don’t need a nap and didn’t come from the horny man service. So, let’s get to it.” Lucas kept his eyes trained downward. Anger still pounded in his chest. She snorted. He heard her chair creak as she must have leaned back. When he chanced a glance he saw the red on the soles of her shoes, propped on the desk, her odd, silvery-blue eyes right on him. He raised an eyebrow. This might be tougher than he thought.After an hour of work he had not gotten anywhere near her passwords but had at least re-organized her schedule for the coming four weeks to include a trip to one of their far-flung production facilities in China. A nice long ten-day stretch he’d have to poke around in her computer loomed pleasantly. She’d been all business, but the sharp edge of her personality was never far from the surface, and he felt more than a little bloodied by the time he’d escaped and leaned on the men’s room sinks, observing the high color in his cheeks from the two-hour long exposure to her. He’d been so pissed about getting this shit assignment he’d more or less ignored the dossier on her, obviously, since he’d walked in today expecting to meet a Mr. Alex Trillium. But a few things he’d read floated through his lizard brain as he willed himself to stop obsessing over her long legs in those fuck-me pumps. Nearly fifteen years with Tate Lincoln, first as systems analyst, then director, then VP and now CIO for a company that built electrical components for the aviation industry. And whose biggest contract was with the United States Air Force. Alexa Trillium was unmarried, had no children, made nearly seven hundred thousand dollars a year before bonuses and stock options, was a strict vegetarian, exercise fanatic and spoke three languages fluently. She was a driven, Type-A, forty-something, wealthy, stereotypical executive, who maintained strict control over herself and her environment. He splashed cold water on his face and neck, dried himself off and frowned at his reflection. You got this crap job because you fucked around with your last, one, literally, compromising a witness in a large tax evasion case causing her to recant and go into hiding because of his bullshit behavior. Lucas was a very self-aware man. He knew his natural tendency to see a tough woman as a challenge and rise to it, so to speak.But this Alex—Alexa, he reminded himself to call her next time, just to mess with her—she was something else entirely. Almost ten years his senior, she exuded a sort of raw emotional vulnerability his radar had somehow picked up on within minutes. And he’d let it rattle him, but it had brought out her inner bitch—the façade she used to hide the real her. And somehow, he though if got to that, he’d be in like Flynn, likely in her silky panties but also in on the con she and her CEO were suspected of perpetrating. He grinned and awarded himself two points with a perfect paper towel arc into the waste bin before whistling his way back to his office, the smell of Alexa’s spicy perfume still up his nose.
Chapter Two
Alex tried not to grind her teeth in frustration. Sipping perfect French roast coffee as she gazed out over the already teeming Bosporus from the balcony, she forced herself to relax. But nearly jumped out of her skin when he touched her shoulders and tried not to jerk away and tell him to get the hell out, that she needed her space. Forcing a smile to her lips when he dropped into the lounge chair next to her, she took in the long, lean frame of Jason Reynolds, CEO of Tate Lincoln, clad only in soft flannel pants. The man was not hard on the eyes for certain—tall, sinewy, wound tight like herself.  He held out a hand and she let him thread his long fingers through hers, although her skin was crawling with a need for him to just leave. His deep blue eyes shone as he put her hand to his lips. “Why?” He asked, for the millionth time in the last month since they’d consummated a year-long flirtation by falling on each other like starving animals. Since then, they had kept it strictly business at work, although he’d tried to cop various feels and lure her into the sort of tawdry sex over the desk thing that she’d never consider. “Because you are on your third wife already Jay,” she insisted, tugging her fingers from his grip. “As in you are still technically married. And I told you, I’m not ever getting married.” Her jaw had started to ache. “Look, I’ve got a personal training appointment in an hour and….”  He held up a hand.“Okay, I get it. You had your fun, now I have to leave and get your of your hair.” But his smile belied his words.  She tried to smile back but knew it must look lame. She didn’t care. It had taken her nearly forty-one years to get her life in order after a series of early disasters that would have made a weaker woman turn into something much less than she’d managed for herself. She was not about to let a lovesick, alpha male, serial philanderer derail her now—force her into a role of someone’s wife. No way, no how. Not matter how much of a perfect specimen he was.She watched him rise to his feet, stretch his six foot four inch frame, run his hands through his thick, salt and pepper hair then dawn his square stubbled jaw. Biting her lip against the urge to jump his bones again, make him work her body into a frenzy like he knew how to do, she crossed her feet at the ankles and turned her face up for his kiss. She watched him amble back inside, admired the span on his shoulders once more then berated herself for being weak and even half considering his plea to marry him. No, she had it just the way she wanted. Him in her bed, but not in her life. Her mind drifted to her original reason for frustration, mentally flipping through the various annoyances and distractions this week and settled firmly in the deep brown gaze of her new assistant. “I’ll be in Prague this week,” Jay called, interrupting her brief imaginary foray into cougar-town with young Lucas. “So, you know, in case you wanted to kiss me goodbye like you mean it, I’m not gonna say no.” His deep voice settled pleasantly in her brain. She rose, as images of the young man who’d invaded her life this week fluttered across her vision. His tall, lean, cotton and wool covered frame, boyishly handsome face and thick brown hair were also very easy on the eyes. But something about him made her twitchy, nervous, even, in ways she had not felt around a man since…she shook her head, forcing him out and focused on the man in front of her, clad now in just a towel, beckoning her back into the bedroom. She slipped into his arms with a sigh of something like relief, but a little like dread.
After her two-hour workout and massage were complete, Alexa lay on the table, limp as a noodle and allowed her PA back into her thoughts. She’d been such a bitch, but he’d acted like some kind of sex starved co-ed eyeballing the lady professor. It had infuriated her. But his near immediate grasp of the complexities of her daily schedule and seeming ability to find order in chaos, much like herself, had forced her to admit that he knew his stuff. She sighed, and stretched her arms over her head, letting her back arch up off the soft table. A sudden, unbidden and wholly erotic though slammed into her. Lucas’s large hands, sliding up the outside of her leg, his lips starting at her ankle, working his way up to the inside of her knee, tickling her thighs, before settling in against her... She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her fists, all relaxation forgotten. Damn him. She should get rid of him…soon. Her eyes flew open, sudden irrational and unwelcome tears pressed against them. His direct manner, no-nonsense organization and firm handle of IT operations were one thing. But the way she’d catch him looking at her when she would glance up, as if he knew the depths of her soul, her very reason for the motivation that drove her night and day to be the best, the most fit, the richest and most successful woman in this business was unnerving in the extreme. She sat up, forcing him out of her thoughts once more. Sundays had always been her favorite day of the week. The one time she could not think about work. But a recent breach of their company firewall had her nerves on edge. She might as well head into the office. As they sometimes did, memories tumbled in on her as her driver risked life and limb speeding through the streets of Istanbul to the Eastern European headquarters of Tate Lincoln. It was why she hated anything resembling real down time, those memories. She pulled her wallet from her purse, slipping the small photo she’d received a few weeks ago from between credit cards. A striking young woman in a graduation gown, a huge smile on her lovely face stood between a tall distinguished looking man and a slightly frazzled looking female. Alexa ran a finger over the image of the girl’s face, nearly identical to her own and wondered if she had the same nervous energy Alexa had had at that age, the same drive, the same need to be the best at everything she did. If the girl’s father—and the diploma she held from the University of Michigan Medical School—were to be believed, she did.Alexa looked out the window a moment, back down at the girl’s face, then pulled an earlier photo out. This one of the tall, slim girl in an elegant white prom dress, on the arm of an athletic looking young man in a tuxedo. And another one, of a small, determined looking little girl in a school uniform, feet planted firmly apart and a frog gripped between her hands. This one was Alexa’s favorite of them all. Sighing she wiped her face and tucked everything away again, forcing the day’s trip down a familiar maudlin memory lane of pain and regret into a compartment, sealing it once more and focusing on the present.

Lucas extracted himself from the beneath the sprawled, naked woman and crept to the bathroom. After a quick clean up, he pulled his jeans back on and fired up her small desktop computer, glancing over his shoulder to make sure she stayed asleep.  He had his fed laptop but since the security breach at Tate Lincoln he’d been extra cautious, not trusting the wifi anywhere but off site for his communications back to D.C.  Luckily, the flirtation he’d begun with the Turkish girl down the hall in marketing had born fruit. He could knock his edge off and use her building’s network, safely several miles from the Tate Lincoln building. After logging in he checked his web-based email, all innocuous mildly personal stuff, not that he had much of a life outside his job.  His phone dinged. Alexa, in battle mode on a Sunday afternoon no less. He sighed, and debated not answering her. But after the week they’d had, her in full throated roar with the entire department over the fairly egregious breach of their complex firewall security by some still unknown source, he figured that would be bad form. The thought of her still gave him no small amount of thrill down his spine. But they had settled into a somewhat comfortable working relationship after he’d proven that he knew that the hell he was doing. And he had those important passwords now. The ones giving him her direct access to all company documents and information.After answering her question about next week’s meeting with the Japanese company Tate Lincoln was purchasing, he switched browsers, then, and resumed his surreptitious examination of the company’s books. After about an hour, the light had dimmed in the girl’s small living room. Lucas’ eyes burned from staring at the backlit screen, trying to make heads or tales of all the money transfers that seemed to be coming from none other than his own boss’ personal bank and brokerage accounts, at least lately.  Thanks to the hacker helpers back stateside they’d gained access to both her US and Turkish based data and they supported the odd series of money transfers he’d tracked from the company's Luxemburg based accounts.  The girl’s hands on his shoulders startled him, but as they traveled down his bare torso, he smiled, took one of them and pressed it to his lips. She was a perfectly delightful diversion. He let himself be led back to her tiny bedroom, forced all thoughts of his sexy and high strung target from his head. But later, lying awake and trying to figure out what in God’s name would have made her think she could simply siphon money from one of the most highly encrypted bank account systems in the universe to her own personal funds, he gave up trying to sleep. Putting a kiss on the girl’s forehead, mumbling something about “see you tomorrow” he quashed a small finger of guilt tickling his brain over the ease at which he’d seduced her. As he slipped into his car and headed towards the glass and metal edifice that represented his current assignment, he contemplated the new and colossally annoying erotic albatross around his neck. As he pulled into the underground parking Lucas had a sudden burst of self awareness, the sort of whole-body-shuddering enlightenment moment that would make a weaker man turn tail and get as far from the current situation as possible. But he had not choice. He had to face this particular music.It would appear that the whole espionage issue was a dead end at Tate Lincoln. However, the woman he’d been assigned to befriend, who might hold the key to whole mess was not a spy, but a thief. Not only that, she was literally in bed with one Jason “Jay” Reynolds, thrice married, nearly re-divorced CEO. Nothing like a little adultery to keep things even more interesting. By all accounts, Alexa was smart, savvy, laser focused. Her recent apparent major lapses in judgment simply did not box. Lucas’ brain fairly buzzed with all the information spinning through it. The security breach itself was suspect and part of him believed she might have engineered it as a decoy. The elevator sped its silent way upward, disgorging him onto the thirty-seventh floor, where the giant servers were housed. He needed to poke around a little in its innards. Because he refused to believe that the woman he was slowly becoming infatuated with was capable of such overt, stupid robbery. A sudden flash of idea made him gulp and grip the elevator’s railing. One of the accounts he’d been monitoring, her local, Turkish bank account, had been full to bursting a week ago, then emptied out just as quickly. While she’d been in China at some high level, stressful meetings. And he’d caught Jay Reynolds at her desk fooling around on her computer. The two things suddenly clicked into place along with a shit ton of general uneasiness about the man at the helm of the large conglomerate. When the doors slid opened he started out, still looking down at his smart phone, his brain going a million miles a minute at the potential twist in the tale. “Oh, shit, sorry,” he grunted as he ran straight into someone, whose now familiar scent filled his nose and made him wince with realization. He kept his hands on Alex’s arms, holding them both up. She glared at him. “Watch where you’re going. What are you doing up here anyway?” Her silver-blue eyes narrowed with suspicion. Lucas’s scalp prickled at her proximity. She was a blue-jean, polo shirted example of female perfection. He let go of her, stepped back. “I, um, well, I had this idea…”She crossed her arms and he realized how odd this must look. No one ever darkened the door of this place on the weekends. The ex-pats who worked here learned to do their American workaholic thing from their flats, so they wouldn’t look like freaks to the natives.  “Really.” She stood her ground, blocking his access to the banks of flat screens and buzzing computers. Something about her look, a combination of frustration and strength, of determination and vulnerability at that moment made him gulp in some air and speak. “Why are you stealing from the company?” She dropped her arms and gaped at him. At that moment he knew he’d been right.


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