Liz Crowe's Blog, page 19

The Release Day....Reds?

Greetings Liz Fans, Followers, Friends and Foes!

Well, it's rolled around again: The Release Day!

I've been through a few of these now (over 20 of them to be precise). I can track my progression of cynicism in nearly direct proportion to the number of them I have experienced. It never fails to thrill, mind you. Anyone who puts their energy into writing anything, put themselves through round after round of well-needed editing, proofing and what not would be inhuman to not wake up on a date that has been mentally circled on the calendar for so long without a tiny tingle of anticipation.

Your creation has finally seen the light of day. Your hard work will be in the hands of appreciative readers. They will gush. They will write reviews and your stock value in the scheme of things will positively skyrocket up the Amazon charts giving you excuse after excuse for egregious bragging...erm...."self promotional activity."

Well......not always.  

The thing I am coming to grips with is that, as an author with Big Goals for Myself, I have to take every release day as simply an opportunity to create more. Which is now how I tend to celebrate. Thanks to my intrepid publicity staff at Tri Destiny Publishing I have well-thought-out and planned book tours. I've written the required posts, answered the requisite questions and the posts are ready to go on their designated days. So I get up, capture the posts, do my facebook/twitter/yahoo group/pinning activiy--the abject begging for attention that is starting to feel a little futile to be honest, but I still do it, if for no other reason than to justify all the time I spent writing, revising, editing, re-writing, re-revising and proofing the damn book.

But instead of calling it the "release day blues" that we have read and written about ad nauseum, I'm dubbing them the Release Day Reds--as in the color of fire, as in the fire in my belly, or under my feet to keep getting better as an author.

Today is release day for MAN ON, book one of a pretty ambitious project called the Black Jack Gentlemen. It has 3 books so far (book 2 releases in a few days so this week promises to be a doozy, emotionally speaking). I have a couple more planned sort of depending on how much traction I get from the first 3. They are NOT traditional romance, but have love stories as part of the plot arc. "Loving soccer" is not a requirement for enjoyment of them either. I've converted a bunch of people about this game including my publisher thanks to these books however, so if that is the case, so much the better.

Thanks are due to a few folks for this day. Of course, first and foremost to my publisher and the team that helps me realize that my first drafts are shit, with a few shining gems of potential, all the way through the final stages when we find whatever word I've chosen to overuse (it varies from book to book with zero logic).  And to Stephanie, the gal who finds me places to blab about myself and my books and hopefully reach a few more readers. And to the soccer players who inspire me. OH and the gals at Literati Literature Lovers for organizing the Red Card tour....

Happy Release Day to me!
Buy MAN ON:   HERE and HERE. (print is coming soon)
and because I would not be fulfilling my vow to be the biggest self-promotion whore around otherwise....


 

Black Jack ARCs -- You Know You Wanna

A city and a sport with something to prove—Meet the men who take that challenge.The Black Jack Gentlemen—Detroit’s expansion soccer team.They play hard. And live harder.
The Black Jack GentlemenThe newest series by Liz Crowe

Book 1:  Man On (August 2013) Book 2:  Red Card (August 2013)  Book 3:  Shut Out (September 2013) And Coming Soon… Book 4:  Set PieceBook 5:  Hat Trick Man On (Black Jack Gentlemen: Book One) Bad boy of European football, Nicolas Garza is about to hit American shores with a vengeance. Signed by the Detroit Black Jack Gentlemen as lynch pin for their expansion club, Nicco only half believes he’s making the right move. But with a past full of ghosts and rotten behavior chasing him from his homeland, he has no real choice.

Parker Rollings is a college soccer superstar, but his parents’ plans for their only son do not include professional athletics. When the Black Jacks approach him to finalize their roster, Parker leaps at the chance to keep playing, leaving behind medical school, stability and his first and only college sweetheart.
Nicco and Parker face off as bitter rivals for a coveted starting spot at midfield and are forced to channel their negative energy into something positive for the sake of the group—and themselves.
All eyes are on the fledgling team in its debut season. It’s crucial that the Black Jacks prove all the doubters wrong. They must make a good showing in the league and with new fans. But player drama, club dynamics, and misplaced priorities may tear it apart before it even begins.


Official Excerpt-MAN ON: 

His fingertips grazed a small card in his pocket making him wince at the memory of his first encounter with the team psychologist. He’d set it up one morning after booting Terry out the door, along with a couple of girls he’d convinced to come by for some playtime. His head had been pounding, not so much from a hangover but shame.
When he had flipped through his expensive-looking orientation packet the words “team psychologist” had leapt out at him as if connected to a hand that gripped him by the short hairs. Not a new thing, all teams had one. But, sick of his bizarre need for constant physical contact—for fucking, he’d corrected, tired of even glossing over it in his own stupid head—he had been desperate for someone to simply listen. So, he made the call. And in the meantime, had enjoyed the workouts with the trainers, the few times he’d scrimmaged around with some of the other players. They’d all been contracted but not obligated to do anything for a month but “acclimate to their new surroundings.”
Part of that acclimation came with the requisite social networking and attendance at a some high visibility fundraisers—which is where Nicco had hooked up with Terrance who’d been attending as personal assistant to some politician. He’d also been encouraged to look around for a place to live with the assistance of an eager young real estate agent, an adorable, sexy, woman whose name he had forgotten within minutes of banging her brains out in an empty mini-mansion. Par for his course, really. But behavior that made him angrier than ever.
His first session with the psychologist, an earnest, nerdy-looking guy with square glasses and a cleft chin, had been brutal. But Nicco had deflected, and to his credit, the shrink had let him front, and show off like a dumb ass for a full hour.
Then, just as he was getting up to leave, convinced the whole thing had been a total waste, the guy looked up at him, pinning him with eyes so sharp and clear they made Nicco gasp in spite of himself. “Nicco,” he’d said. “When you’re ready to face up to your addiction, I’m here to listen. I know you have a problem with sex. You know you have a problem with sex. I’m glad you made this appointment. Next time, let’s make it more useful, shall we? And for your information, I did not support the concept of putting you out there as poster boy for gay rights or gay athletes.”
The man had removed his glasses, staring Nicco down as if he could see into his very soul. “I am gay. I have been with the same partner, a man I love dearly for six years. I understand, on a certain level, what you’re dealing with. So,” he’d put the glasses back on and glanced down at his tablet computer. “When will I see you next?”
Now, Nicco pulled the card from his pocket and stared at the therapist’s name and phone number. Then ripped it into small pieces as the rest of the new team filed into the room. He noted two German players he’d had run-ins with in World Cup play, a South African player who must have cost the casino owners a pretty penny, at least three Brits, a Welsh guy or maybe Irish, and two South Americans whose dark, intense good looks made him shiver with memory.
A handful of fresh-faced young Americans interspersed in the group made him feel old. And that pissed him off. What was Inez thinking anyway? There were two per position in the room, two strong players for each spot—except his. He sipped his water bottle and glared at the Germans. Nervous tension gnawed at his gut but he kept his face calm. Finally when their temporary coach showed up and flipped the blinds closed, he relaxed.
So everyone in the room has to fight for their spot except me? That works. He dropped his feet to the floor at Rafe’s pointed glance and propped his elbows on the table prepared to ignore the forthcoming pep talk.
He’d already made plans for the night and wanted to rest up before hand. This goofy welcome pep talk would be as good a time as any. Letting his thoughts wander to the nightclub catering to gay men and promising full discretion, he made himself stop obsessing over the failed therapy session.
The door clicked open and all eyes landed on the tall, blond man who walked in, backpack on his shoulder, dressed to play. Nicco’s scalp tingled at the sight of him—strong torso, long legs, firm jaw covered with several days’ worth of fuzz. Good Christ but he was a perfect specimen. Nicco kept his casual stance but startled when the kid’s bright blue eyes and huge white smile landed on him.
He resisted the urge to smile back. Something about the man made Nicco distinctly uncomfortable but horny at the same time. He suddenly wished he’d held onto the shrink’s business card.
“And Parker will be working with you, Nicco.”
Nicco sat up, knocking his water to the floor as Rafe’s words got his immediate attention. What the fuck? He stared at the polite hand the kid stuck in his face then over at Rafe. His throat closed up between the proximity of the impossibly handsome man and realization of the fact that the vision of masculine perfection he’d lusted after for the last few seconds wanted to take his spot on the field.
Oh hell no. He leaned back again and ignored his brain that clamored for him to be nice, to take the kid’s hand. To smile and act like an adult.
Instead, he smirked, ignored him, and turned to face their coach as if suddenly fascinated by what the guy had to say. Parker stood a minute, and Nicco watched his face turn red before he sat in the one empty chair nearest the door.
Rafe passed out new phones, instructed them that they were obliged to “tweet” and “post profile updates” on Facebook at least three times a day. All shit that Nicco already knew. Rafe’s hot young lady assistant issued key cards to the ones who’d just arrived, including the kid Nicco studiously ignored but whose very presence was making the front of his jeans uncomfortable.
He shifted in his seat, trying to get control of himself, a bizarre combination of anger and lust spinning around his brain. The room rose, and Nicco joined them making their way out into the hallway.
A gaggle of kids and parents awaited them, and the team spent about an hour signing soccer balls, slips of paper, jerseys, getting photos for camera phones. Nicco joined in to prove his ability to schmooze like a pro. At one point he caught sight of his new young coach with his arm around a tall, attractive, pregnant woman with coal black hair. Rafe caught his eye and beckoned him over.
“Nicolas Garza, this is Maureen, my wife and her son, Adam.” A dark-skinned teenager next to the stunning woman stuck out a hand. Nicco took it, noting the kid’s own club kit and backpack. He took Maureen’s hand, kissed it, and eyeballed Rafe.
“Well done, young Rafe. What a vision. How did a loser like yourself rate such beauty?”
Maureen frowned but her eyes sparkled. “Spare me, Nicco. I’ve heard all about you.”
“I have no doubt of that lovely lady.” He gave a short bow. “But may I also say, congratulations on the coming joy.”
She smiled at him, and he mirrored her liking her already. He valued women who took no shit from him. He winked at Rafe and made his way back into the teeming throng after nodding at the woman’s son who didn’t look that much younger than his mother’s new husband. But when he turned he immediately locked gazes with the blond American usurper and his throat closed up. The man stared at him wide-eyed and innocent, and Nicco had to grip the back of a chair to keep from saying something utterly stupid.
He’d wager his left nut that young Parker had never been with a man, but the sheer sexual energy that poured off him was intoxicating. His fresh, clean good looks spoke of a typical American, upper class upbringing, expensive soccer clubs and college scholarships. Shit that Nicco usually despised and denigrated.
He broke the eye contact and set his jaw. The kid had another think coming if he honestly believed he’d be taking Nicolas Garza’s place on the team. Pure and simple, no matter how fevered his sudden fantasy over popping the kid’s cherry. He ran a hand down his face and swallowed hard. Things had certainly gotten complicated and then some. But he knew that he had a focus now—keeping his starting spot ahead of the delectable Parker. Red Card (Black Jack Gentlemen:  Book Two)
Free will makes us human.

Choice makes us individuals.
Love makes us unique.
Metin Sevim has it all. At the pinnacle of international soccer playing success, he has managed to craft a perfect world for himself along the way.
When fate strips him of free will and the ability to choose his own path, he retreats from everyone and everything, destroying his hard-won career in the process.
Dragged back from the brink by his desperate family, Metin reluctantly agrees to coach the Black Jack Gentlemen Detroit soccer team but remains debilitated by memories and loss. When a surprising friendship emerges, it renews his passion for life, providing much needed solace… and extreme complications.
A saga of family dynamics and gender politics that cuts across cultures and circumstance, Red Card illustrates the human capacity for forgiveness through the life of one man as he attempts to rebuild his shattered existence.  
Official Excerpt-RED CARD: 
Metin studied the attractive woman sitting across from him at the huge kitchen island. Musing that she probably would just as soon pour him a lovely glass of cyanide as sit and drink red wine with him, he smiled, trying not to overreact to her unsubtle hostility.
“So,” she said, sipping and staring at him. “How is Graciella?”
He forced an ever-wider smile. “Fine, I am assuming. She is on a photo shoot in Italy for a month. I haven’t talked to her in…a while.” He lifted the glass to his lips, not breaking eye contact.
Melanie Matthews Miller could be a model herself. Something he was sure she’d heard plenty of times. Her dark brown hair was thick, curly, barely contained by a headband. Dark eyes shone in her angular, handsome face. He noticed that her hand shook when she put her glass on the granite surface. Unable to resist, he reached for it. She yanked it back as if he’d touched a lit match to her flesh. “Your mother must have been a stunning woman.” He said, softly, as if to a cornered, frightened animal.
“Yeah. She was,” Mel polished off her first glass. Metin poured her some more. “Spare me the lecture. I’m not an alcoholic.”
He looked up, shocked. “I wouldn’t think of calling you that.”
“Sure you would. I see it in your eyes.”
“The only thing in my eyes right now is terror.”
She scoffed, left the newly refilled glass on the counter and propped her chin on her hands. The defeated slump of her shoulders made the natural caretaker in him want to soothe. But he knew better than to comfort her, at least at that moment. He took another drink of his wine, and the silence took on a life of its own. Clearing his throat, he put his glass down, deciding if anyone could take him being straightforward, it was this woman.
“I love your sister,” he said.
Mel just stared at him, her face betraying nothing. “No you don’t. You’re just a collector of women. And Alicia is something new and exotic to you. Get over yourself.” Her hard voice fit her. It was as if she had sharp edges he would wound himself on if he were not careful. Her face was nearly perfect—high cheekbones, large expressive eyes. In a different situation, she would be his type. “I won’t let you hurt her, soccer boy. We clear on that?”
He nodded, believing silence was the better part of valor at the moment. “Tell me about him,” he finally said, unable to stop himself. “This man. Your… husband. Who hurt you and made you into this….”
“Bitch?” Her laughter hurt his ears.
“No, that is not what—”
“Yes, it was. It’s okay. I’m getting use to it now. Scott was the guy who swept me off my feet, knocked me up, installed me in a house while he went to work at the bank. I caught him fucking his secretary one day, right in that very house, when I was supposed to be volunteering at Zach’s school.” She gripped her glass, gazing into the middle distance. “I left. Came home to my father’s house with my son. Told him we were through. And started going out, to clubs, bars… you name it. I was a total slut. As I’m sure you will confirm, being the traditionalist that you are. Men can stick their dicks in however many women they want and they are super studs. I go out a few nights, let a few strange men do that to me, and I’m a whore.”
He gulped, forcing away that very reaction, reminding himself that this woman’s life was absolutely none of his business. She glared at him, holding the stem of her wine glass in a death grip. “And then, bam, I was pregnant again. And Scott said he’d take me back, wanted me back, needed me back. Blah blah. Whatever.”
“Oh, um, Tanner is not…”
“No, Metin. I don’t know who Tanner’s father is. How about that for your traditional principals? Shocked enough by me yet?” Her eyes darkened.
He sat up straighter his ire rising at her seeming need to prove how bad she was for some reason. “I don’t shock that easily.”
“Sure you do.” She got up to pace. Her wild, curly hair kept escaping from the headband and haloed her flushed face. In an instant, he saw what appeal she did hold, when she was not being so bitter.
He glanced around. The giant house was freezing, empty, positively cavernous. He couldn’t fathom it. His family was huge, loud, and annoying, but that was a whole hell of a lot better than this empty, echoing space filled with nothing but unhappy people.
“Mom!” An older boy stomped into the kitchen from the laundry room, slamming the garage door behind him. “I thought you were… oh, hello there.”
Metin stood and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m….”
“I know who you are. My mom and aunt have been doing nothing but argue about you lately.”
“Oh, well.” Metin ran a hand through his hair, watching the boy’s body language around his mother. “Sorry, I guess.”
“Nah, it’s cool. They don’t need much excuse to fight.” He dropped his soccer bag to the floor of the kitchen. Metin fought his inner neat freak. His mother never tolerated his soccer kit anywhere but out in their garage. And a cuff to the head was all it took for him to remember it. He and his three brothers had all played, which made for a pretty smelly garage.
“Mom, where’s dinner.”
“Order out,” she said, her voice low and distant.  
“Whatever, I’m going out anyway.”
Metin stared as they did their non-communication dance for a few more minutes then got up before the urge to smack the smartass kid upside the head got too strong.
“Sorry, Metin.” Mel’s voice was soft. “We’re hardly the exemplary family. I have no business being mad at you for judging us.”
“I am not judging…. Oh, thank god,” he said when Alicia strode in, her gorgeous face dusted with makeup, amazing curves draped in a silky black dress. “You are beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She blushed, which he loved. “You guys getting along okay? Zach, are you being your usual teenager jerkish self?”
“Sure thing, Auntie.” The kid grabbed a few cookies from the jar and walked out without another word to his own mother.
Metin shook his head.
“Okay, stud. Let’s go to dinner. Or whatever.” She shot a worried glance at her sister, but the other woman kept her back to them. By the time Metin realized Melanie shoulders shook from crying, Alicia was pulling him out of the room.
Shut Out (Black Jack Gentlemen: Book Three) A submissive once, a submissive forever?

A man on the run from the only life he’s ever known, Brody Vaughn is poised to accept the Black Jack Gentleman’s newly vacant goalkeeper’s position. It’s a desperate move, but one he must take to regain his emotional equilibrium. Reeling from his Mistress’s rejection and on the ragged edge of a total breakdown, he arrives in Detroit. Numb with thinly veiled grief, he walks into the club’s front office completely unaware that an encounter with true destiny awaits him.
Sophie Harrison has seen it all--as Domme, sub, and victim. Now that her complicated circumstances have landed her as legal counsel for the expansion Black Jacks team, she holds herself aloof in body and spirit. Nothing and no one gets past her fiercely guarded walls. Until the day she looks up to greet the new goalie standing in her doorway, his raw combination of vulnerability and strength making her breathless.
Two people, horribly scarred by the excesses of the BDSM lifestyle and hiding from their true selves, meet across a desk over a simple contract. All bets are off.
Official Excerpt-SHUT OUT:  Sophie kept her chair turned from the office door, unwilling to even acknowledge the next soccer player awaiting her wise words. Sweaty and exhausted, she had a bitch of an afternoon low caffeine headache. And talking these over-paid, over-sexed, full of themselves prima donnas through their final contracts and benefits packages. However, as head of legal for the team in its third year, she had a new crop of new players to orient—ten to be exact. And had managed to do so for the last week. But if one more of them waltzed in here reeking of sweat and eyeballing her as if she were the last crumb on the cookie tray, their flirty high beams blazing, as if she would ever be interested in any of their little boy bullshit... so help her. For the thousandth time, she questioned her sanity, taking on this utter crapshoot of a project. Oh, right. She shut her eyes a moment, closing off the memories. Shutting down her natural reaction to pore over them, poke at them, rip off the scab that had more or less healed over them in an attempt to start over."Hey," a deep, syrupy-sounding voice intoned, sending a strange tremor straight down her spine. "Um, am I in the right place?" It hit her ears as: “’m ah in the raht playce?”She swiveled around and shoved her glasses up her nose to get a good look at the next one standing in her doorway. Her gaze slid from his jet-black hair, along the strong lines of his stubbled jaw, across his t-shirt clad shoulders. The Black Jack Gentlemen wore grey when they practiced, in uniforms provided by a famous shoe company she didn’t recognize with a company logo emblazoned across the back. And said shirt clung to his sculptured torso in a way that really ought to be outlawed. All the while, Mr. Southern Accent stood stock still, as if used to being so frankly appraised.A drop of sweat formed at her temple. He cleared his throat so she jerked her gaze back up to a set of the darkest eyes she had ever encountered. He smiled—a sweet, lopsided thing that imprinted itself on her retinas in a wholly annoying way. She tried not to swallow her own tongue.  "Hey… uh… I'm Brody. Brody Vaughn." He ran a hand through his hair and she sensed his nervousness as if there were a neon sign over his head. Adorable. Her radar pinged like mad. But she forced it to shut the hell up. She had no business thinking about these…these kids in any way other than purely professional. So far they had all been the exact same breed of cocky asshole, alternating eye-fucking her and extreme boredom in response to her monotonous drone of legal-ese. Sexy Southern Accent—Brody, she muttered under her breath—put his hand out, as if to shake hers. His face reddened charmingly when she raised an eyebrow at his outstretched palm—the same one he’d just dragged through his sweat soaked hairShe smiled, rising slowly to her feet, needing to be at his eye level. His eyes widened as he dropped, as if boneless, into the chair opposite hers without a word. Sophie took a long, calming breath, forcing her brain to focus in ways she had learned, practiced, utilized for years in her time as a professional Dominatrix—a woman who took money in exchange for bringing pain and raw, rough sex to the men who requested her services. As she shut the door, keeping her back to the boy...  to… Brody… her pulse kept racing, and her heart continued its disconcerting rhythm, no matter what tricks she employed—which pissed her off. And that finally, calmed her enough to face him.“Hello Mr. Vaughn, I’m Sophie Harrison, legal counsel for the Black Jack Gentlemen. I’ll be explaining the terms of the contract you or your agent negotiated with our organization.” She kept talking, using words she’d said a hundred times already. But her own voice echoed around in her head. She purposely kept her eyes on the paper in front of her, glasses sliding down her nose. Ignoring the raw, visceral reaction her finely tuned body and brain were having to the man across from her—Brody, a twenty-five year old man, she saw on his employee fact sheet. No, he is a boy, and you do not play with boys, not anymore. She compressed her lips together, pretending to find a non-existent problem with the stack of legal documents pertaining to his agreement. To his credit, he stayed silent and very, very still, in a way that intrigued her. Finally, she met his eyes once more and blinked—then frowned. “So, another goalkeeper?” she said, fully aware how it would needle the average, ego-driven high-level athlete. A glimpse at his salary indicated his golden child status. The keeper that the club had managed to sign, thanks to the aggressive recruiting activity by their new assistant coach. She tried out a casual smirk but discarded it. And the way he just sat, glaring at her as if memorizing her, or hoping to intimidate her brought a hot flush to her cheeks. God damn it. She straightened her back, sucked in her gut and forced her thoughts to her next real workout—the kind she preferred, that involved tight leather, her favorite bull whip, and a willing submissive. “You okay there… Miz Harrison?” His voice slithered around in her brain, nestling in nice and low, gripping the base of her skull in a way that made her want to jump up and run out of the room. Asshole. She glared at him.“Of course. I’m fine.” She shoved her glasses back up nose and slapped the contracts down in front of him, probably a little too hard, but fuck it. She needed Mr. Brody Vaughn the hell out of her office. She tried to keep her face neutral, not snarl or growl or snap the poor kid’s head off. He shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, and glanced down at the papers she had pinned under her manicured hand. Which gave her a well-needed rush of control over the situation. Her spine tingled in a familiar way but she channeled it—the distinct, loose, fluid feeling of impending need that she recognized. “Now, let’s go through this…” She brought her focus back to the contracts. His hand covered hers. Surprised, she flinched, and a strange, embarrassing sound emerged from her throat.“I think you need a drink of water. You seem a little… done in,” he claimed, his deep drawl coating her brain like the sweetest honey infused bourbon. She snatched her water bottle, gulped some, set the thing down and took a breath. Within thirty minutes she had laid out the terms of the contract, including his non-disclosure and good-behavior clauses, the health insurance guarantees, all of it. He had asked few questions, his voice soft, musical and soothing in a way that somehow had the opposite effect on her nerves. She gritted her teeth against the urge to stand up, lock the door and yank the kid’s sweaty clothes off. Jesus, help me. Get him out of here. He stood quickly, startling her. “Well, if that’s it.” He leaned back, studying her. She got to her feet, unwilling to let him stand above her for some reason, and noted how his chocolate brown eyes darkened at the sight of her facing him. “Yes. That will definitely be it.” She lifted her chin and willed her damn knees to stop shaking. She would have little reason to ever see him again, unless he landed in trouble and she had to handle a public relations problem on his behalf. His physical presence, not that different than all the others who’d paraded through here in the last few days, compelled her in ways she refused to acknowledge. At nearly six foot eight, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, long, strong legs....he cleared his throats. She blinked, and the traitorous flush crept up her neck to her face again. His angular features at that moment were set, and bored, and slightly amused at her obvious discomfort. She narrowed her eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Her pulse fluttered as she put a hand to her throat.As if reading her mind, Brody Vaughn lifted his chin slightly, and she got a good long look at it—the inky black chain imprinted on his neck. A dark circular pattern of interlocking, heavy loops encircled the flesh at his throat. He smiled again, slow moving, like his drawl, and he touched it, once, then turned, giving her a breath taking rear view that included the sight of the chain continuing around the back of his neck. The man wore a collar, a permanent one, inked right on his skin. But the vibes he threw her proclaimed one thing loud and clear—the person who’d bestowed the collar no longer had a say about him at all. Her mind swooped, whirled, and doubled back on itself, picturing him—Brody the man—at her knees, bound, and waiting her command. She shivered and jumped when her assistant appeared at the door. He’d left. Taking his mysterious aura of vulnerability and strength, and raw sexy need, with him.



ARC GIVEAWAY ANNOUNCEMENT....If you want to win a copy of the first 3 books of this compelling series in ebook format you need to let me know why....in a comment. Pretty simple....just tell me why you think you should have copies of my latest books early.

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From A Milestone, a New Beginning

Greeting Liz fans, acolytes, followers, supporters, friends and...well, anyone else. I'm not exclusionary.

As it happens on occasion I had a serious epiphany while on a walk with my semi-famous Poodle muses today. I'm listening to a GREAT book by Hilary Mantel, "Bring Up The Bodies" a sequel to her original novel about Thomas Cromwell, "Wolfe Hall." I'm a huge Anglophile, and the Tudor period especially totally enthralls me. I have done a lot of crawling around in various London castles (and most especially The Tower of London where I actually got to see the Exchange of the Keys at days end, and to share a pint with the Yeoman Warders. Long story, tell you another time) seeking the compelling ghosts to this ever-popular you CANNOT make this sh*t up tale of King Henry and his wives.

so....I'm walking along, listening to Thomas Cromwell shoot himself in the foot over Anne Boleyn and it occurred to me, I have my own writerly anniversary literally right upon me, as we sit here and speak, or blog, or whatever.

Yep, it was this weekend, exactly FIVE YEARS AGO that I concocted my very first scene of the at times best selling, but usually "top selling," Stewart Realty series. I had a fairly simple vision. That of a dark office hallway in a deserted real estate office in Ann Arbor where two driven, complicated adults meet, and cannot resist the pull of destiny.

I love this scene. It has it all--the ultimate push and pull of the Jack and Sara relationship that has entrhalled and frustrated so many--it was, as they say, My First. And five years ago this weekend, (the 4th of July 2008) I wrote it.  From it, an eight-book series was born. I am revising the final installment, which I am crafting as a more mainstream novel about adulthood, mature marriage, and the parenting of children with addictive personalities. Good Faith will drop on November 13 and I will be signing it and the rest of the series at the Ann Arbor Borders store on November 16. I would love to see you there.

I have had a sort of bizarre set of experiences this weekend, my anniversary of bringing the Jack and Sara story to life.  The sum total of them have taught me a few things:
1. I enjoy writing for the sake of it. The resulting semi-success I have enjoyed can be directly attributed to the advice and assistance of a few folks. But the bottom line is that now that I have had some experience with "fans" and "support from strangers" I will never give that up.
2.  Some people exist for the sake of teaching me how not to react to negativity.
3. My words are my own. I love to share with others--readers, fans, bloggers and reviewers. But the words? They are mine.
4.  I may never achieve my ultimate goal of having the words"NYT Best Seller" on my covers and the Stewart series on cable, but I will always (always) write. And I will never pass up the opportunity to improve via hard edit or strict beta read. I will, however, no longer allow anyone to come between me and my muse. He is a tough bastard, you really don't want to get in his way.

So, that said, I would like to announce not only the Milestone Anniversary of the Jack and Sara Family Saga, but also a new beginning. The Black Jack Gentlemen, an off shoot series from this popular and at times polarizing Stewart Realty series will drop in mid August, beginning with the releases of the first 2 books, then the third in September. The stories will all be, potentially, stand alone novels. But the more you read, the more you will want to know about the other players, the coaches and the staff of this fictional expansion soccer league and team, based in (where else?) Detroit. 

I am thrilled and proud to announce the Official Cover, Blurb and Excerpts for the first 3 novels of this series today, July 8, 2013 on two superb book blogs:
KINDLEHOOKED
ANGIE'S DREAMY READS

A city and a sport with something to prove—Meet the men who take that challenge.The Black Jack Gentlemen—Detroit’s expansion soccer team.They play hard. And live harder.


Enjoy the beautiful game and its equally beautiful stories and players with me, won't you?
Liz

Liz's Ten Commandments

I recently posted 3 of my 10 commandments of Social Networking as authors or editors or anyone really who wishes to sell anything be it a book, a service, a beer, using the dreaded and wonderful world of Social Networking.
Here is that post.....carry on to the end if you wanna see the REST of the Commandments...

A Life Lived PubliclyBy Liz Crowe  
 Click here for a link to the original post
In this day and age of full frontal confessions, utterly revealing personal information and daily barrages of miniscule details via the blessing/curse of “social networks,” is it any wonder that those of us who are even the slightest bit in the public eye feel a tad exposed?
I mean, it’s more or less expected—even required—that we maintain at least a facebook or a twitter presence, preferably both, and tack on a Pintererest board or three, a tumblr account, a you tube persona, a goodreads author page, and, in varying order of how important you find them: a google plus account, a reddit avatar, a skype number, an Instagram account, and a Vines connection. PLUS all the zillions of groups within facebook and on the yahoo groups circuit—it truly is hard to know which of these things are worthwhile and which are annoying to the people you keep whacking over the head with your daily updates.
I’ve seen it all (and made my own mistakes at it as well). The successful author who maintains their sedate “fan page” with an update or two per day and nothing else. The mid-major who runs contests on goodreads and links them to their facebook and twitter accounts, while posting them in their 3 or 4 carefully selected yahoo groups. The up-and-comer self-published Next Big Thing who is a twitter expert savant, having conversations and hooking editors and big publisher attention with merely the prowess and careful selection of his tweets. The newbie who posts pretty much every single step she makes through the day, so that we all know when she had coffee, took a potty break, folded laundry and wrote 645 more words on The Next Great American Novel—or the next 50 Shades, whatever comes first.
The bottom line is, as an author at any one of these levels, you have got to be “out here,” engaging, chatting, promoting, then chatting again, exposing yourself to overt criticism along with the kudos and fan grrrl squees and OMGees of release days, cover reveals and contract announcements.  It’s not an easy thing to navigate and some authors have gotten themselves in a heap of trouble overstepping and directly criticizing peers (or people they wish were their peers), or reader groups, or in other ways sabotaging their actual work (writing books) by bitching and moaning and crying about “the unfairness of it all.”
I surely do not have the answer to this dilemma. However, I would offer the following 3 rules of thumb about social network usage to newbies and mid-majors alike (all you twitter savants can carry on because I swear I have NO idea how you do it). In no particular order other than they need numbering AND to be read with tongue tucked firmly in cheek:
1.     Thou shalt not complain about anything other than the weather on thy networks.·      Nobody cares how hard you worked to write, edit, revise and publish your novel. Get over yourself. Just write, edit, revise and publish and let the work speak for itself (or not). Then move on to your next book. Sales and readers as fans speak the loudest.2.     Thou shalt not criticize other authors on thy networks·      We all have authors who make us want to gouge our own eyes out when we see they’ve sold yet another 8 zillion copies of their horrific dreck. Tough sh*t. Don’t criticize them in public. Save it for your coffee clatch, your crit group, your mom and dad and your spouse or your bartender. Anything else makes you look petty and jealous. Believe me this is the hardest one for yours truly. But I will write the bitchy, whiny, “why her and not me?” post, stare at it, then delete it. “Delete” is your best friend.3.     Thou shalt not promote thine own sh*tty life on thy social networks·      Save it for your therapist. Your life is GREAT, you are a SUCCESS, you LOVE WHAT YOU DO, and even though you might not have those elusive letter and word combos “NYT” or “USAtoday” or even “Podunk Backwater Gazette Best Selling Author” behind your name it simply does not matter because you write for the sheer LOVE of writing. This sounds harsh but it’s way too tempting to get into the machinations of a crappy marriage, rotten kids, crumbling or struggling career, especially late at night, when you’ve had too much booze on your social nets and it just doesn’t do your image as Professional Author any good to be crying into your beer over your cheating spouse or shop lifting teenagers. Live the dream, or at least fake it like a boss.So there you have it. Three of Liz’s cardinal rules-slash-commandments of living your life in public. If you will excuse me, I have to go delete a few things off my Facebook timeline….Happy Reading!

(preacher's kid, bear with me)All right then...~cracks knuckles~ who is interested in my other seven, hmmm?
Even if you are not, here they are (remembering where my tongue is planted):4.  Thou shalt not commit Spam-age     You are a published author. You are also your own publicist and promoter. This does NOT MEAN that all you ever do on the 'nets is "buy me, read me, blog me, or I will cry."  You do these things (sans the "or I will cry" referencing Commandment #1). But you are also there to engage people, as in with a conversation, using something OTHER than your own books to do so. Talk about your favorite TV show, your garden, your cats (if you must) but talk about something else. Think about it as a 3:1 ratio. For every 3 promotional posts you post one completely NON promo, informational or interesting tidbit but not about your sh*tty life (referencing Commandment #3).
5.  Thou shalt not let thine twitter feed get stale      Twitter, as you will come to learn, is a a different creature than Facebook, or even Pinterest.  It is meant to be more "live" that is to say, "active."  Nothing is more annoying that glancing over at a twitter feed someone has embedded in their blog or website to see something like "Merry Christmas 2012!" when it's, like June 2013. Or worse, "Happy release day to me" when that day was 6 months ago. Keep it fresh. Put an app on your smart phone, get up every morning and put 5 quick updates (remembering the ratio rule). Then do the same at noon, and again before bed. It's like vitamins, or exercise. Gotta do it. So just get over it. If you do not, then do the rest of us a fav and delete the dang thing off twitter. You are clogging up the works with your laziness.
6.  Thou shalt not suck up      This one is a double-edge sword. I love to be sucked up TO.  Truly, nothing turns my muse's crank like opening up Facebook or twitter to a gushing new fan. But the sucking up thing is not you telling an author how much you enjoyed their latest book. I do that too, then I let it go. Allow me to open up and confess however, that I tried this, on a small scale, on twitter with a Big Time You All Know Her Publisher Person and with an agent. It was an unmitigated disaster, mainly because, you know, I got all "know it all" about craft beer which pissed one of them off (what? she named a macro beer as "craft." I can't have that sort of mis information floating around can I?). My point is this: make your contacts to the Bigs, shoot them the ocassional response to something they toss out in an obvious bid for responses. But don't suck up (or give them advice about What Not To Drink).

7.  Thou shalt not post photos of thine body parts
     I do not care how proud you are of that navel piercing, save it for your family members. Now, of course, those of you who make a living from posting body parts (cover models I'm talking about here) please, post away and be sure and tag me so I can study them. If you have an author persona that is aided by you showing off your piercings and tatts, do not let me stop you...if that is working. If you post them and can't seem to make connections with new readers you might reconsider your strategy. You are online as an author to do one thing: make money. If showing off your bits (even if you think it helps reflect what a bad a** you are) is not increasing your bottom line, consider backing away from that sort of post.

8. Thou shalt not expose thine politics
    We all have opinions. We all take sides. We all either like what's happening with our government or we do not. We believe in God, or we do not. We believe life begins with a gleam in Papa's eye, or we do not. You are entitled, nay, encouraged in our modern political culture to take a side and talk about it, a lot.  However, I can guarantee that whatever side you take, 50% of the people out there will disagree with you. If you have an author (or any other professional) persona on line, keep your politics away from it. My advice, for those who require a platform for their views on anything remotely controversial (i.e. "politics and religion") is to have a separate Actual Person Profile on Facebook or twitter that in no way can be linked to your author or professional fan page or profile. Consider it thusly: If you take a stand by simply re-posting someone's goofball meme about the Tea Party, or the liberal controlled media or whatever, you have in one click, alienated as many as half of your potential readers. Keep it neutral. Or pay the price in lost royalties.

9.  Thou shalt not fib
    If you state on your facebook page, your twitter feed or other source that you are "working all week on a new project, writing, editing, revising" or whatever and won't be "around" for the duration, you really ought not be messing around on said networks commenting, posting, and tweeting. Consider the potential reader base out there, with its vast options and opportunities to read books that you did NOT write as your boss. If you tell you boss you are out sick or your grandma died and you need a week off and then post photos from a semi orgy in Las Vegas or from your fishing trip in the Gulf of Mexico you'd better be posting pix of grandma's funeral really quick. Once something is ON the internet, it is ON the internet and can be FOUND again. It's called "screen shots."  Your boss sees the photos, strokes his chin and tries to square that with your reason for absence...just like your potential readers and fans see your ranting about "needing time to work! Please just back off and let me work!" and then spot you cavorting around in groups, promoting or chatting....yeah. No.

10.  Thou shalt not hook up
    This is also a touchy subject as we all know stories about happily married folks who met "on line." However, venues like Facebook and twitter truly are not meant to be dating services. And frankly, no matter how private you might think are being, flirting online will bite you in the a**. Especially if you are TRYING to sell books. "But Liz!" you whine, ignoring commandment #1 again. "I write books with sex in them! I want to put out there how sexy I am!"  And I say to you, IF you are trying to be an Author who makes real money from writing books you should carefully consider the image you are portraying of yourself. If you want to be seen as a sexpot who writes sex books, be my guest. But the majority of published and pre-published authors I know who do indeed write books with sex in them, are more about being taken seriously as a person who writes books, not as a person who claims that their "sexiness" makes their books that much better.  Oh, and Commandment 10.5: don't assume anything about the people you are communicating with, good or bad. But realize that assumptions ARE being made about you, constantly. You are Now a Public Person, dear published author. Get over thinking you have anything like privacy left to you, unless you work hard to maintain it.  It's tempting to spew everything about yourself online. Resist it. Trust me.

So there you have it! Liz's (and no one else's, as in "my opinions and observations and my blog" so if you disagree, feel free to spare me righteous indignation).
Love ya!
Liz


HOUSE RULES IS FREE! The Stewart Realty prequel novella you just GOTTA read to get a real glimpse at our man Jack Gordon, the uber-hero of this best selling series!
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Melanie Codina on Stereotypes

The Stereotypes of Society

Have you ever felt like you were in a box? Were you placed there by someone else, or did you climb on in yourself? What did you do when you got in there? Were you satisfied with the box or did you stay there because you thought it was where you were “supposed” to be? If you climbed out of the box, were you tossed back in? And if you did get tossed back, did you get up and try to claw your way back out? Have you ever stopped to wonder why there are so many boxes, in which society tries there hardest to secure us in? Lumping us in a group or category instead of allowing us our individuality. Can I ask for a tiffany blue colored box next time, complete with satin ribbon? Do you want to know what happens when you finally make it out of that box … because I do. I'm sure that at one point or another in your life, you have been labeled and placed in a category. Whether you belonged in that category or not didn’t matter, the labeling was put there by society, and those around you assumed you belonged there. And we all know what happens when we assume something, don’t we. Stereotypes seem to be very prominent in our society. A way to judge others, and possibly even make you feel better about yourself. They aren’t something new to tolerate though, they have been around since the beginning of time. You can go back centuries to stories told and see references to stereotypes all over the place, but I fear that in recent times they have become more powerful. Social media alone can fuel a stereotyped label and make it go viral before a person even knows they have been labeled that way. It’s frightening. So what should a person do when they find themselves within a stereotyped category that they don’t feel they belong in? Would you like to know my opinion on the subject? I can usually be quiet when others like to voice their loud opinions, but on this subject matter; I never take the quiet path. Plainly speaking, I hate them. I loathe them. I detest them. To me, stereotypes are insults people throw at you because they don’t take the time to know anything about you.Did I mention how much I hate them? Okay, now that I’ve leaked the secret of how I feel about them, do you want to know what else I view them as? A challenge. To me, being placed in a category based on minimal information is a big fat challenge saying “I dare you to prove me wrong.” And believe me when I say, to me, there is nothing sweeter than proving a person wrong about you. Well, when it comes to the good stuff that is. If someone thinks you are total jerk, and then you act like one, well then shame on you. But if they are wrong, and don’t see the good stuff, get some comfy shoes on because you have some hurdles to jump over.People say that as a writer, you are supposed to write about what you know. The places you have been can be easily used in a storyline because you know them well. This of course can be interchangeable with life experiences. For me, the life experience of teenage motherhood is brought out in my work simply because it’s what I know, and the passion I feel over the stereotypes placed on me because of that experience can’t be contained. In my recent release, Love Realized, the heroine touches base on her irritation of stereotypes that are placed on people because of such an experience. Gillian comments to herself about the stereotype placed on her as a teenage mother, those placed on her children for being the product of a teenage mother, and even assumptions that relate to the fact that her and her husband got married only because they had a child. Gillian also comments on how different it was for her as a mother raising a child where she was the youngest mother around. These are of course all things that I am very familiar with.My own irritation with society’s stereotypes allowed me to create a strong character who was able to show the world, and those who labeled her, that they were wrong. People that have a child before they marry CAN actually be getting married because they love each other. A young woman who becomes a mother when still a child herself, IS capable of higher education goals and financial stability. Children born to teenage parents ARE capable of being good students and can grow into successful adults. And most importantly, a strong woman who had successfully overcome many challenges, is very capable of leaving a man who betrayed her, instead of staying because she was too afraid to leave.In my current work in progress, Love Resisted, you will also find a few stereotypes that come into play in the storyline. As a reader you will get to witness your heroine attempt to climb out of the boxes that she has actually placed herself in. Feeling it was what she was required to do, that is until she meets the hero who chose to stand on that box instead. I truly do believe that when society places you in a box because you fit a label, you have to ask yourself, do I belong in here? If you do, and have no problem with it, own it. Jump up and stand on top of that box proudly. If you believe you don’t belong in that box, dig your heels in hard and resist being tossed into it. Rip a hole in the side of that box and claw your way out. Prove those who label you wrong, over and over again. Why? Because nobody should ever settle, and if you don’t want to be what they say you are, there is no sweeter victory than climbing out of the box and waving at everyone from the other side. 


 Book Blurb:

For Jake, it’s always been Gillian. It’s been her since that day she unknowingly stole a piece of his heart...when he watched her fall for one of his best friends. Resolved to the fate that she couldn't be his, he locked up the deeper emotions he felt for her and loved her as a friend.

As friends, they went through it all together. Marriages, births, divorces and even death. But when a shameful secret Gillian has kept from her friends is revealed, Jake realizes she needs him more than ever. He knew what it was like to go through heartbreak and he wasn't about to stand back and watch her endure it alone.

He also knew she would turn to him for support. What he wasn't prepared for was the return of the emotions he had long ago locked away. Could he control those emotions again and did he even want to? Could he make her realize his love for her was real, or would she slip through his fingers again?



Excerpt:
There she was standing amongst her party guests, blushing and smiling like a fool when she had things to be doing. Attempting to focus on her role of hostess, she turned toward the house when a voice rumbled in her ear.“What’s that smile for, sexy?” Her smile got even bigger. Now the day was perfect; Jake was here. Always falling into the playful banter with one of her oldest and dearest friends was second nature for Gillian. Jake Michaels was always a flirt with her; it stretched all the way back to high school, and it was just part of their relationship. Of course, it was also easy to do since he was as sweet and sexy as they come.Tall, dark, and handsome was certainly a phrase that could easily be used to describe Jake, with his chocolate brown hair and light brown eyes that resembled topaz. And let’s not forget the broad shoulders and chest that sported the perfect proportions for his six-foot two-inch frame. Seriously, she had no idea how she ended up with all these good-looking men in her life? Hell, when they all were indulging in pool time, it looked like freaking spring break, with real adult males instead of those still trying to grow chest hair.Jake leaned in to kiss her on the cheek, which she offered up gladly because he was easily one of her favorite people. “Just relishing in the joy of all these handsome men in my life,” she said with a wink.“Well then it’s a good thing I got here, so you really have something to smile about.” Both of them laughed as Jake winked back. Gillian loved that she still had Jake in her life, even after all these years; they always had a good time together.“Hey, I found some party guests at the front door, and I brought them in for you since they said they rang the doorbell. Hope that’s okay; he says he works with you.”“Oh, thanks, I didn’t even think about people who aren’t used to just walking into my house like the rest of you guys do,” she said as she nudged him with her hip.“Well if I announced myself, then you may not let me come over, and then how will I get to have dinner with one of the hottest moms I know.”Gillian couldn’t contain her giggle. “Damn Jake, you sure know how to make a girl’s day. Now go check in with the birthday boy, he was looking for his “favorite uncle” earlier. Of course, that always gets under my brother’s skin when he hears Dylan say that.”Jake laughed out loud at that. “Which is exactly why I have trained Dylan to call me that, just to get under Sean’s skin … it’s so much fun. How about Ryan, has he been good?”“He is always good for his favorite aunt. Both boys have been in the pool for hours … the two of them should be sprouting gills any minute now.”Ryan was Jake’s son, from a brief marriage to a woman who couldn’t be bothered with settling down with just one man. They divorced when Ryan was only one, after Jake walked in on her with another man. She then followed this man to Florida and didn’t have any problems with granting Jake full custody of Ryan. Jake loved his son and didn’t want him to be subjected to a woman who couldn’t seem to focus on anyone but herself.“Hey, we have matching titles: you, the favorite aunt, and me, the favorite uncle. It’s a wonder the rest of these yahoos ever get paid any attention at all.” Jake smacked her on the ass and walked away to search for Dylan and Ryan while yelling toward the pool, “Has anyone seen the birthday boy? His favorite uncle is here!” Gillian just laughed as she turned around to look where her brother, Sean, was sitting with his wife, knowing that Jake only did that to rile him up. Boys will be boys, regardless of their age.

Giveaways:

An ecopy of Love Realized. Leave a comment with an email address to be entered to win

Buy Links:Amazonhttp://www.amazon.com/Love-Realized-Real-Series-Volume/dp/1482730030/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1371212624&sr=8-1&keywords=love+realized

Smashwords:http://www.smashwords.com/books/search?query=melanie+codina

Barnes and Noble:http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/love-realized-melanie-codina/1115276296?ean=2940044512078


Author Bio:

Melanie is an amazing mother of four, an awesome and tolerant wife to one, and nurse to many. If you don’t believe her, just ask anyone in her family, they know what to say. She is also a devoted chauffeur, the keeper of missing socks, a genius according to a six year old, the coolest soccer uniform coordinator according to a twelve year old, and the best damn ‘mac-n-cheese-with-cut-up-hot-dog maker in the whole world. Well that last title isn’t really official, but it’s still pretty cool to be called it.

When not being ordered around by any of the kids, you can find her with her nose in a book or on the sideline of a soccer game cheering on one team or another. But that’s mostly because she has a thing for the coach. When she is not doing all of the above, you can find her obsessed with a group of fictional characters all vying for a spot on the page of whatever she’s working on. It’s a fun and crazy life to lead, but wouldn’t have it any other way.


Author Links:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/MelanieCodinaAuthor?ref=ts&fref=ts

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelanieCodina @MelanieCodina

Goodreads:http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7043981.Melanie_Codina

Across the Beer Bar with Melissa Keir!

Welcome to my beer bar Melissa what can I pour for you to start?Thank you Liz for having me at the bar. I love to visit local breweries. There’s always so much to try! Can I have your Revilo? The idea of a beer with a carmel malt…sounds like a delicious place to start.
You are relatively new to the publishing game. Tell us about your journey to that first acceptance.I started out as an editor for a brand spanking new publishing house. The owner suggested that I write my own story and submit it to her. I spent a few weeks writing my short story to submit to their Second Chance at Love anthology. When I sent the short story to the owner, she wrote back within days that she wanted it. I was over the moon. But that didn’t last long.When my book was in edits, the publishing house closed and the rights reverted back to me. I didn’t know what to do. I was afraid it was a sign that I shouldn’t be an author. But a swift kick in the butt from you, I submitted to one of the places where you had a book published. They accepted the story as a novelette and published it on it’s own. In the meantime, one of the ladies I worked with at the defunct publishing house, went to another publishing house. Since the book I had written was accepted at Rebel Ink Press, I wrote another story that publishing house for their Love, Again anthology.
And how many books have you had published since?Currently I have six books published. They are all short stories which are perfect to read on an ereader or at night before bed.
What is your opinion of the value of "review sites" with regard to sales? How much stock should authors take in various reviewers' opinions (good or bad) of their work?This is a challenging question for me. I used to work with a well-known review site. I loved reading books  and writing reviews of them. My reviews were published on their site and allowed me to meet many wonderful authors. But as a reviewer, I had a strict moral code about my reviews. I always tried to find something that I enjoyed about the books which I reviewed. It was important to be constructive while not trashing a book. After all, it was only one opinion.Some readers place a lot of importance on reviews. I read reviews for different purchases that I make from televisions to books, but I take them with a grain of salt. I read through them and still make my own choice. Sometimes they do sway me, but mostly it comes down to what I want and if the product fits my needs.As an author, I want people to connect with my story. I want to hear that people enjoyed my book. But I’m aware that they won’t appeal to everyone. Authors need to have a thick skin. There are going to be bad reviews.Letting the bad reviews roll off my back is hard. They make me doubt my choices but like the reviews I read before a purchase, I have to weigh it against what I know and believe. I’ve heard from many people that a bad review can also be a good thing. After all bad publicity is still publicity.
Oh look! empty glass--what can I pour next for you?Can I try a Barista? The blending of coffee and beer is a wonderful idea but I don’t know if it will put me to sleep or keep me up! I’m not much of a night owl now with having to wake at 6 am for a full day of teaching 7 and 8 year olds. No one wants a crabby teacher!
Who is the character you created that you love the most and why?That’s a tough question. I love all my characters. They are each special in my heart for various reasons. But the chacter that I’m having the most fun with is Mr. Wilder from my books “Forever Love”,” Beach Desires” and “A Christmas Accident”. He is the father of the Wilder sisters who are five girls who grew up thinking of their dad as a hero. But they left Amherst, Ohio after high school. Each feeling the need to escape the small town. Yet when Dad needed them, each of them return to Amherst. In “Forever Love”, we see Mr. Wilder at his most vulnerable but also readers get to see him enjoying life again after the death of his wife. Love doesn’t end when you are in your sixties and seventies.
If you were to be granted the wish of "writing a book about anything you want, guaranteed to be published big time." what would it be about? what genre?I’d love to publish a contemporary romance or paranormal romance ala JD Robb or Nora Roberts. I love her stories about family and how characters choose to be the people they want to be, not letting the world or their past choose for them. I’d love to tell the story of a family that loves each other yet still has strife and conflict as they search for love and being the best they can be.
Why?Growing up in a family dynamic of five girls, all very close in age, it was a challenge at times. I remember clearly fighting with my sister one minute but also threatening someone who wanted to pick on her. It was the idea of family being the strongest part of my life and how my family made me into the person I am today. I think that other people could really connect with a story like that. Families are flawed yet they are stronger. Think about shows like Dallas-the readers connect to the Ewings, even love to hate them.
Tell us about what's coming up for you...new releases, new contracts, new plans.I have a book currently in edits. It’s the sequel to my first story-“Second Time’s the Charm”. The title is “Three’s a Crowd” and continues the story of Lissa and Alex Hunter who were introduced by her best friend and his ex-wife, Chloe. This time, Chloe’s marriage is falling apart and she turns toward her ex-husband. Will LIssa lose her best friend or her new husband?I also have three books in the works. One is the forth story in the Wilder Sisters series and one is the second book in the Pigg Detective Agency series. I’ve also almost completed a story about a teacher who has a one night stand with one of her student’s father. To keep up with all my latest information and releases, stop by my website at http://www.melissakeir.com

And for a nightcap?Let’s finish up with your award winning Amber Lager. Thanks again for letting me sit across the bar from you. I’m grateful for your friendship and support. And thank you to your readers for allowing me to visit with them for awhile.


Forever Love by Melissa KeirBlurb:Fifteen years ago, Syndie Wilder left her small hometown- Amherst, Ohio- to escape the pain of losing her best friend and boyfriend. Deciding that Chicago offered more for an up and coming jewelry designer, she enjoyed the big city life until she chooses to return and care for her father. Taking care of her father and relocating her internet business, Syndie has no time or desire for romance but fate has a way of playing with best-laid plans.
Thom Johnson broke Syndie’s heart all those years ago and regrets it every day. As a firefighter, Thom sets out to protect Amherst and redeem himself for his bad choices. However, he never has forgotten Syndie and the hurt he caused her.
When a chance meeting happens, can the two former friends allow themselves the chance to become friends again, or will the sparks turn a childhood friendship into a forever love?EXCERPT:Deciding to get out of the house, we headed out for dinner at a popular local restaurant. The Armors Diner was located in an old home that had been converted into a homey place to eat. They had a full menu, containing anything that might tickle your fancy, but they had the best Coney dogs and fries. The Armors was a favorite hangout for the high school crowd, so the walls were covered with photos from all the sports stories covered by the local newspaper. The place was packed, but we found a spot at a small table near the large front window.The Armors held a lot of fond memories from my time in high school. I used to come to the restaurant as much as I could to hang out and visit with my friends. We would always order the large fries and talk about the boys we liked. The restaurant also had its share of sad memories too—mostly surrounding T.J. and our time together. As if just thinking about him caused him to appear, I looked up to find him walking through the door, alone, and heading directly over to our table.“Hi Syn, Mr. Wilder. Do you mind if I join you? This place is packed, and I hate to eat alone.”“Hello Thom. Nice to see you. What have you been up to lately? I haven’t seen you since you dated Syn, here. I must have scared you off good,” Dad replied with a grin.“Mr. Wilder, you didn’t scare me off. Syn decided to run away to the big city and leave this small town behind.” T.J. winked at me, so I stuck my tongue out at him.I felt like an idiot while they spoke about me, and a little shocked that Dad didn’t remember T.J. being at the recent fire. “Hello—I am sitting right here. You shouldn’t talk about me like I’m invisible.” They continued to ignore me, in favor of the conversation. I took the moment to look at T.J. He certainly had grown up. I studied his profile, trying to find a small part of that little boy who was my best friend growing up. His strong jawline and full lips were new to me. His baby fat was gone, but his strong nose was the same. The aquiline had a bump that always looked like he had broken it, which earned him the nickname Rocky. I loved his smile. It was a full grin that lit up his whole face and made his eyes twinkle. I wish I could go back and have a chat with my teenage self. I would share with her just how sexy T.J. was today. Of course, I would probably also have a few words to say to teenage T.J. too. After all, I wasn’t the only one in that relationship.My ears perked up when I heard Dad invite T.J. over for dinner tomorrow night. It will be nice to give Dad something to do, but another evening with T.J…can my heart handle it?The Armors provided a nice dinner among friends. Dad seemed to enjoy talking with T.J. about guns, hunting, and his job at the fire station. Sitting there in the background watching them interact was a treat. Dad was animated, reminding me more of the guy I grew up with than the pale version of himself he had become since my return. He hasn’t been so upbeat in a long time. I don’t think I’ve felt so upbeat in a while, as well. T.J. had many fun stories of life in the station that made us laugh. I was getting reacquainted with the guy I left behind, as he was filling in the missing years.T.J. had been my best friend growing up. We were childhood playmates. Then, in high school, we turned into a couple. He became my boyfriend. We used to spend a lot of time hanging out at the train depot and talking about our future, but that didn’t last. T.J. was looking for a girl who was sexually active, which wasn’t me. He broke up with me and went on to date other girls who were more physical with him. It was hard watching him move on, but I was going to leave our small town for bigger pastures when I graduated, so I didn’t need to be tied down. Now that I was back, though, would we try to make it work?Buy Link:Secret Cravings Store:AmazonB&N
Bio: As a writer, Melissa likes to keep current on topics of interest in the world of writing.  She’s a member of the Romance Writers of America and EPIC.  Melissa is always interested in improving her writing through classes and seminars.  She also believes in helping other authors and features authors and their books on her blog.Melissa doesn’t believe in down time.  She’s always keeping busy.  Melissa is a wife and mother, an elementary school teacher, a book reviewer, an editor for a publishing company as well as an author. Her home blends two families and is a lot like the Brady Bunch, without Alice- a large grocery bill, tons of dirty dishes and a mound of laundry. She loves to write stories that feature “happy endings” and is often found plotting her next story.This is what readers are saying about Melissa’s books:Amazon 5 star review for Second Time’s the Charm- “Such a sweet and heart warming story. As I read it, and the details unfolded, I was engrossed to see if that I thought was going to happen, would really happen.” – Lacey Wolfe, Romance Author.Barnes and Nobel 5 star review for Protecting His Wolfe- “Great read. I couldn't put it down. I really liked the characters, especially Betsie and the Pigg brothers. A love story with suspense and surprise.” – Anonymous

Melissa loves hearing from readers!www.melissakeir.comhttp://www.facebook.com/melissaakeirh... (fan page)www.twitter/melissa_keir Leave her a comment on this post and you could win a keyring (as in the photo below). Be sure and leave your email address too!

HOUSE RULES Blog Tour

Ok, I've got all sorts of sweet Jack Gordon never-before-heard-ofs and a ton of really funny Liz Crowe "how she does it all" on this tour AND a killer giveaway--a free set of the original trilogy Floor Time/Sweat Equity/Closing Costs in ebook OR print!

Starts tomorrow...check it out around your House Rules reading time! It's FREE on the publisher's site and only .99 everywhere else.



A kick off with 3 great blogs!
6/16               Tome Tender6/16               My Fiction Nook6/16               Romance Addict Book BlogThen the fun continues with:6/17               Twinsie Talk6/17               Erotica For All6/18               Adria's Romance Reviews6/19               Alphas, Authors, Books6/20               Shh Mom's Reading (shout outs and kudos for the awesome promo photos)6/21               I Love Lady Porn6/21               Living Fictiously6/22               Three Chicks & Their Books6/23               Words of Wisdom From the Scarf Princess6/24               Bookworm Brandee6/25               She Book Blogs6/27               So Many Books, Here's Mine6/28              Read Your Writes Book Reviews6/29              Tattooed Book Review6/30               Busy Moms Book Review7/1                 Seaside Book Nook7/2                 Jessy's Book Club7/3                 A Love Affair With Books7/5                 Sandwich Making Book Bitches Blog7/6                 I Feel The Need, The Need to Read

Liz Crowe EXCLUSIVE Peek at GOOD FAITH

An utterly unedited and pivotal ENTIRE CHAPTER of the upcoming final novel of the Stewart Realty series, Good Faith.

This book is a long one, encompassing the growth and lives of the children of the original cast of characters plus various crises they encounter themselves. It is, in my opinion, an epic ending to an epic series.

Release date is November 13, 2013.  I am hosting a little Stewart Realty-Con in Ann Arbor that weekend that will include parties at my Tap Room with live Stewart Realty trivia, beer and other surprise fun and a scavenger hunt on Saturday 11/16 that will culminate with a book signing for GOOD FAITH (and the other books in the series) at the Ann Arbor Barnes & Noble store.

I am gifting you this free chapter to celebrate the Liz Crowe Author Page on Facebook hitting (and well exceeding) 4100 "likes".

I have other exclusive deleted scenes from the entire series plus peeks at WIPs ONLY in the Romance For Real Life private Liz Fan group you are welcome to join!

And now....chapter seven....



Brandis sat at the kitchen table, his heart and skull pounding with anxiety and hangover. His parents were across from him. His father’s face was stony and ominous. His mother’s resigned. They were waiting on a response from him but his aching brain wouldn’t cooperate and release an answer, or even help him remember the question. Anger rose, followed quickly by nausea. He set his jaw, hoping not to puke all over the table and make this scene a thousand times worse. His mom started to get up, but his dad grabbed her hand and made her stay seated.“Answer the question.” The man said, his voice low. Brandis blinked and in an instant was transported back to one of those weird kid memories—the kind you never remember unless you try really hard. But it was there, clear as day. He was about eight or nine, a brisk fall Saturday and he and his dad were at their usual diner for breakfast. He didn’t know how the whole “guys only breakfast” thing started but he did enjoy it, mostly. He’d been scarfing down blueberry pancakes, bacon and chocolate milk and they’d been laughing about something, Brandis didn’t recall. But they had tickets to a Michigan State football game and were headed out to East Lansing as soon as they were done eating. It had been the most perfect day of Brandis’ life—probably still was. Just him and his dad and a football game were ahead of him, no sharing with his sisters or anything.He recalled gripping his dad’s hand, such a huge seeming thing then, warm and safe as they walked to the car, bellies full. His dad had taken some phone calls, like always as Brandis settled into the back seat, ready to sleep his way North of Ann Arbor. But he’d leaned up, put a hand on his father’s broad shoulder first. “I want to work with you dad, someday. That okay?”“Sure, son. That would be nice.” Jack has patted his hand, put his phone away and started the Mustang’s engine. A sweet, throaty roar filled Brandis’ ears—a sound he would forever associate with his powerful, strong father. “Belt up. We have a game to catch.” He’d said, smiling into the rearview mirror. Brandis’ heart had expanded then, nearly burst open all over the back seat. “If we work together we could get up, have breakfast and stuff and…then you know…work.” He’d snuggled down into the pillow after buckling up, a sense of peace suffusing his every molecule.Brandis stared at his father now, that sensation welling up inside him, making his eyes burn with alarming, babyish tears. Jack’s face softened somewhat as he reached across the table and grabbed Brandis’ hand. “Son, I need to know what happened with the girl. Did you…did you boys force her to … shit.” His father got up, started pacing like he always did, his huge personality filling the room and shoving both Brandis and his mother against the walls. Brandis took a breath and tried not to yell. “No. Dad, I would never do that. But I know who did.”“Was it Gabe?” his mother asked, sitting, looking small and defeated. “No! Please, seriously,” he waved a hand and tried to focus. “I was drunk, Gabe was high, but when I heard her yelling I ran over outside the firelight and found … them. I pulled him off her, Dad, mom, I would never…” he gulped. He had been busy drinking and had just come out of his own little tryst with a different girl. She’d given him a killer blow job, if he recalled correctly—a crap shoot at this point. Then when they’d come stumbling back to the fire, she’d let Gabe grab her and kiss her, then they’d started dry humping until Brandis had told them to take it somewhere else. He’d been relaxing staring at the fire and picturing Blair when he’d heard the scream. The rest of the night was a little fuzzy, but he had yanked the offending guy off the girl, punched him, if he remembered right. And then, there were red and blue lights, cops, yelling, and the cold confines of the police station. And now…“I didn’t do anything to her. I swear it.” He said, his voice hoarse. He wanted water, a shower and a nap. “Son, you realize that you are gonna owe me money for this infraction. And for the lawyer I’ll have to hire to go to court with you for the M.I.P. charge.” Jack leaned on the counter, arms crossed.“Yeah.” He mumbled, a strange, unexplainable fury starting to buzz in his ears. He’d told them already. Wouldn’t they just fucking leave him alone. He ran a hand down his face.“Excuse me?” His parents said in tandem. He winced.“I mean. Yes sir. Yes ma’m.” He tried to sit up straighter but his head kept pounding.“So, in addition, I’m taking your car keys,” Brandis sighed and stared down at his hands. He’d expected this. “And your laptop,” he looked up, panicked, trying to remember if he’d cleared the cache of porn and realizing he would have to go old school and look at magazines or something. His brain was already spinning around, trying to figure out how he’d … “And your phone. You can have it at school and after practice but then you give it me.” “B-b-b-but,” he blew out a breath. His father held up a hand, his blue eyes icy. Brandis’s heart sank. He so wanted his father to approve, to like him. But he knew that look, had been on the receiving end of Jack Gordon discipline enough times. Always doled out with a quiet voice, deadly calm, his father’s judgment was written in stone. The madder he was, the quieter he got. There was no point trying to argue.He glanced at his mother who met his eyes once then looked down. His skin hurt, his face burned, his entire head seemed to echo with the massive silence that suffocated everything the room.  He got to his feet, wobbly, dizzy, needing to escape the disappointment that hit him between the eyes—disappointment with him. He opened the fridge and held back the urge to grab one of the beers there, to numb himself, drink his way out of this horrible, disgusted with himself sensation.His father held out a hand. Brandis reached into his jeans pocket and tugged out his phone. After staring at the screen long enough to determine that three of the six girls from the night before had texted him wanting him to “hang out” with them again…soon. He sighed, and handed it over. Jack glanced down at it, took in the messages and raised an eyebrow at Brandis, a smile dancing around the edges of his lips. “Give me that,” his mother intervened, grabbing the device, then turning it off without glancing at the screen. “You,” she pointed to him. “Go to your room. Don’t come out until I say so. And you,” she poked Jack in the chest, startling him out a seeming daze. “Go call Rob. He’s called me three times already.” Brandis started down the hall, his brain spinning, his feet as heavy as lead. By the time he’d showered, standing under the hot spray long enough to make someone pound on the door and demand he get out unless he wanted to pay the gas bill too, he honestly thought he could sleep for days. He flopped face down on his bed, taking deep breaths of his pillowcase, letting it take him back, way back, like it always did to his boyhood. When things were so much simpler. He jerked awake from a deep sleep, dreams chock full of Blair, and then cops, and then his dad, and then Blair again, which pissed him off so much his heart was pounding when he sat up, alarmed. Strange noises, muffled sounding shouts hit his ears. His door opened slowly and he saw his little sister there, her eyes full of tears. She handed him a phone. Puzzled, he stared at her. “It’s for you. It’s Blair.” He frowned, kept hold of the phone, staring at Bethany like an idiot. “What?” She leaned in the door and wiped her eyes with the shirt sleeve of a ratty Washtenaw football sweatshirt. He could hear Blair’s tinny voice coming from the device. But he gripped his sister’s arm. “What the hell is it Bethy?” She burst into fresh tears, and he held onto her, confused, terrified, as the phone kept squawking in his hand. Finally he put the thing to his ear. “Blair?” he croaked out.“Oh Brandis. I am so, so sorry.”“Uh, for what?” he still had hold of his sister, her small body heaving with sobs. “Your grandfather. Brandis, he died this afternoon.”
                                    ***Sara sipped her lukewarm coffee and watched Jack pace the kitchen. Back and forth, running a hand through his hair and around the back of his neck. That little quirk she’d known and loved for so long, made her smile. She tried to catch his eye, knowing better than to talk at that moment. If she did, her head would be summarily bitten off, which would make her mad, which would cause him more grief. And then this thing, they were dealing with, their son and his slow descent into a strange, scary place would only get worse. So she sipped, running her finger down Brandis’ phone. She turned it over, noted the giant green “S” for the Michigan State Spartans and smiled. Jack had done a great job indoctrinating the kid that was for certain. Jack had taken his role seriously, once they’d established that Brandis required his father’s active presence, his full attention. He gave it, but in fits and starts. Would take Brandis away for entire weekends, a couple of times for a week at a time, plus the rarely skipped Saturday morning diner breakfast, just the boys. And up until about two or maybe three years ago, that had been enough. Brandis got into his fair share of trouble, mostly mischievous stuff—frogs in his sister’s beds, and the time he’d let Bethany’s hamster loose in the tree house. But now…tears made her eyes burn. “I’m sorry,” Jack said, finally, his voice low and defeated. She got to her feet. This whole parenting thing had come at them early in their relationship. And had been strange from the beginning, given that she’d kept Katie from him for nearly six years before acknowledging how much she truly did need and love the man. The look in his now was wild, lost, confused. It made her want to weep, to rip her hair, to throw things. But she went to him and gathered him close. “I’m so sorry.” He held onto her, gripping the edges of her sweatshirt as if to let her go meant he’d literally drown. The concept that she, Sara, was the one giving comfort for what felt like the first time in their long, convoluted relationship made her own tears dry up.  A contented feeling suffused her, made her skin flush in a way familiar now that she’d entered the “hot flashes” side of her life. They had been through so fucking much. Floating into their older years, free of diapers, toddlers, and babysitters had such appeal. Katie had proven drama free for the most part, playing soccer, getting a scholarship, going to college in Florida and now, with a very nice boyfriend that even Jack begrudgingly admitted might be worthy of her. “Sh…” she whispered, kissing his shoulder, loving him so much she thought her chest might burst. “It’s okay honey. Really. Don’t blame yourself. He’s just…a kid. It will be fine.”Jack looked down at her, his eyes dark and full of things she didn’t understand. That made her a little dizzy so she stepped back, keeping her hands on his arms. She could feel the strength of him, his arms, his body, under her hands. Suddenly, she needed to be with him, truly with him. She stepped close again, molded herself into his familiar frame and pressed her lips to his stubble-coated neck. “I love you,” she whispered. “So much.” Her hand roamed down his back, needing to feel skin and not clothing. He shifted, and she felt him harden against her. Smiling, knowing this was what they needed, right now, no delay. He kissed her then, urgent, demanding, back-walking her until her ass hit the granite covered island. “Hang on, let’s not do this here,” she whispered, pulling him down the long hall to their bedroom. Sex with a familiar, well-loved partner did have its advantages when there were kids in the house. Buttons get pushed, release is achieved, thanks to years of dedicated practice on each other. They hit their bathroom, tearing at clothes, lips locked in urgency.The orgasm snuck up on her, making her gasp and grip his bicep. “Yes,” she sighed, turning his lips to hers, needing his kiss. As their lips were locked, she unzipped his jeans, allowed herself a few minutes to stroke the heat of his erection. “Turn around,” he growled.She bent over the vanity without a word. He filled her, completely, slowly, his fingers dug into her hips. She raised up, gripped his hair and moaned when his lips and teeth found her neck and shoulder. “God,” she sighed as he reached around with one hand and stroked her then cupped a breast, pinching hard on her nipple. “Baby,” he sighed, increasing his pace, shoving her into the island. “Sara,” he groaned, letting go her breast and propping one hand on the countertop next to her. “I’m gonna…I need to…” he leaned over her, buried his face in her hair.Sara arched her back, needing him even deeper. “Harder,” she cried out, threading her fingers in his on the island’s top. She watched them, their hands, older now, but no less eager. She sensed a fresh release on the horizon, the glorious, breathless sensation of climax as he shuddered and stroked deep, his voice a hoarse whisper of satisfaction. He draped himself over her, then pulled out, smacked her ass and then tugged her up, kissing her, sweet, sexy, just like she liked it. “Mmm hmm…” he sighed, putting his finger to her lips.  “Nice. I needed that.”“Me too,” she said, tugging her shorts up. She kissed him softly, helped him reassemble his clothes then sent him towards the kitchen, wobbly but with a grin on his face she loved to see. Sara cleaned herself up, washed her hands, then caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was wild, half falling out of the tie back, her green eyes were bright with the familiar “just fucked by Jack” look he liked to point out to her. Then her brain darkened as reality hit. Her son had a minor in possession charge, was in all manner of trouble. He drank, she knew. He had sex, a lot, she also knew. He was just sixteen. A sob broke from her lips but she covered her mouth, then splashed water on her face. She had to hold it together. She heard a phone ring, then Jack’s rumbling baritone in answer. A cold chill stole down her spine, something she’d not felt since….she threw the bathroom door open and hurried down the hall to the kitchen, watching as her husband sat, his handsome face in his hands as he listened. He held out a hand and she went to him. He pressed his face into her belly, gripping tight like he’d done earlier, as if holding on for his very life. She tilted his chin up, already knowing, somehow, what he was going to say. “My dad,” she whispered, running her fingers through his damp hair, feeling tears on her cheeks. He nodded.“Your mom will be over from hospice in about an hour.” He said, standing and folding her into his strong embrace. They stood together in the kitchen and she cried, but felt loved, completely and knew that everything would be all right at that moment. “Okay,” she said, puling away and wiping her face. “This will take some doing,” she collected the coffee cups and made a fresh pot acknowledging just how far they had come in one morning. It was nearly three o’clock when she opened to door to find her mother, small, stoic, flanked by the tall blond man who’d been Sara’s brother’s lover for so many years, and his wife, Lila, her dark eyes red-rimmed and haunted. Sara’s first thought—that it was good to see Rob and Lila together again for a change—was quickly overtaken by her mother’s sniffle. She turned and guided Beth Thornton into the living room, already mentally moving on to the next stage of her life, one without her father in it anymore.


Coming Saturday, June 16, 2013:
HOUSE RULES
the Jack Gordon novella
FREE on the publisher's site (link to be added here soon)
.99 everywhere else.
You will want to grab this to bracket you Stewart Realty reading experience. Jack's backstory says a LOT about where and how he ends up by the end of the saga and about his son, Brandis, whose story GOOD FAITH truly is....

Across the Beer Bar with D.L. Jackson

It has been a year since we've last gotten together over beers at  my bar.....what can I pour for you to start?
Not much of a beer person, but I hear you’ve got some good stuff. Surprise me.
hmmm...yep, let's see...try my Premium Lager to start I think...
What's happened in your publishing life since then? Any Big News? I’ve published several titles with Decadent Publishing, including some short stories. Recently, I contracted, Being Prince Charming, which is the story that follows Cinderella Wore Combat Boots. It should be out late this year, or early next year. I also contracted, Last Flight of the Ark, for republication.

 Well, since then I have read Seducing Liberty AND My Boogie Woogie Bugle Guy--loved them! So creative and beautifully written. Do you have more books along the lines of those planned or in the works? Absolutely. I have Finding Mercy, part of the Prepper Line and the first book in the Evan’s Point series. I’m working on Dry Spell which follows that. Also, Being Prince Charming is about Gunny and Lissa, who you first meet in Cinderella Wore Combat Boots. It’s a fun story about second chances.
Tell us about how you market yourself as an author--what has worked, what hasn't? I try to blog several times a month, but that can be hit and miss. I find a website that makes it easy for your readers to see not only what is soon to be released, but what you have in the works, books you’ve read, love and recommend, and yes links to your books with excerpts and reviews. Keeping it up to date and easy to navigate is one of the best things you can do.
I’ve also heard from readers and reviewers they wish my stories were longer. I have listened, and have just finished a full novel that is close to 100k. And this is the first book in the series. I’ll be shopping it soon. I plan to continue my short stories, but I also will be working on larger novels, for those that want more of my worlds and characters.
What else.... Oh, I’ve found short two day blog blitzes are a great way to get your name out there, show your readers what’s new, and get to know them a bit. My numbers on my website jumped for a good two months after a blitz I did in April. I think the best way to promote yourself is to get out there and share a bit about your writing, yourself and try to balance the promotion with socializing and having fun. If all you do is post promo, readers get bored. Same old thing. Who wants that? They like to hear about freaky stuff you’ve researched, what you’re working on, and maybe some fun and quirky things that might have happened during your week.
your glass is empty--what can I get for you next? I’m easy, surprise me with something that’s the polar opposite of what you just gave me, then at least I can say I tried a broad range beer.
Well that's easy...here, try this bourbon barrel aged Imperial Dark Lager...
Name one book you read in the last 12 months you wish you had written and why (can be any book any genre, not just one published in the last year either).  Okay, I’ve read a lot this year, and I have to say, Lauren Dayne’s, Never Enough was amazing. I loved the characters, the story line. Arlene Webb and Barbara Elsborg’s Prepper novels completely blew me away. And...Beautiful Creatures. I love this book. Well done, creative and I love books that teach you a little something, like the whole bit about painting ceilings blue to confuse the bees so they won’t nest in them. Not sure if it’s an old wive’s tale or what, but I love it.
If you had to pick one of the sub genres you write in and focus on it, which would it be?
Dystopian. There are so many ways I can take it. On this world, other worlds. I can take it back to a primitive world or keep it high tech.
What is your least favorite trend in publishing right now?  Not fond of copy cats. Be original. Write what speaks to you, not what you think is going to make you breakout. If it’s shifters, then write shifters, vampires, then do it. Just don’t write it because someone else was wildly successful doing it.
And give us a quote that will help us remember you by.... My mother used to say, don’t say anything, if you haven’t got anything nice to say, or do unto others what you’d want them to do unto you. I say write a book. Then you don’t have to be nice and you can do unto your characters whatever you’d like.
Nightcap time! what's your poison? Better give me a water. Two beer—lightweight here.


Bio:  D. L. Jackson is an award-winning author of urban fantasy, science fiction, military romance and erotic romance. She loves to incorporate crazy plot twists, comedy and the unexpected into her worlds. As a U.S. Army veteran, she naturally adores men in uniform and feels the world could always use more. She does her part by incorporating as many sexy soldiers in her novels as she can. When she isn't writing or running the roads, you can often find her online chatting with her peers and readers. Grab a cup of iced coffee, pull up your virtual chair and say hi. She loves emails and blog visits from her readers. www.authordljackson.com
Links:
http://backwardmomentum.blogspot.comwww.authordljackson.com (excerpts and buy links for all my books are under “Book Store” on my website.)
FaceBook:  Dawn JacksonTwitter:  Dlaree69
Blurb for Being Prince Charming:  “You’re no Prince Charming.”Words screamed in anger, an empty nest, empty life--there are a lot of reasons people divorce. For Gunny, a diehard Marine who refuses to give up the Corps, and Lissa his wife of over twenty years, the reason isn’t a good one. When words exchanged in anger morph beyond their control, Lissa leaves and August doesn’t go after her, letting his pride get in the way.Two years later, Lissa is about to move on with her life and marry another man, except her reason isn’t the right one either. Her heart still belongs to a Marine she left behind. Now, an unexpected gift in the form of a 1Night Stand may change everything.August is back, looking for a second chance, but this time he isn’t letting Lissa walk away without a fight. He’s thrown everything he’s got into their date to prove that he can still be her Prince Charming. But if he can’t convince her in one night it’s for keeps, he may very well lose the only woman he’s ever loved.A peek at my WIP, Dry Spell:She reached in her pocket and pulled out an inactive reserve card. “I just got out of the Army a month ago. I’m headed to California and running low on funds. I’m a meteorologist, or that’s what I used to do in the Army. I’m hoping I can pick up a job doing the same thing.”That state again. He held his hand up, not wanting to hear a word about the West Coast. “That doesn’t explain why you were climbing over the fence onto private property.” He glanced down at the card. SSG. Addison Smith. Army? She didn’t look like any female soldier he’d ever seen, but then again, he didn’t get out of Wyoming much. “So, Miss Smith, care to tell me what any of this has to do with you breaking the law?”“I knew if I could get video of this storm, I could sell it for a profit and have change to spare when I got where I was going. Plus it would look great on my resume. Best shot was from up there. Just trying to make a little money to get home.”The hair on his neck stood on end. There was a funny electricity in the air, like he clung to a high voltage wire. Jake shook off the warning and focused on the pretty woman before him. “So you were going to stand in the rain and film, hoping something would happen?”“Actually,” she said, “something is going to happen.” She used her thumb to gesture behind her. “See all those bumps in that cloud that dip down like a bunch of breasts? That’s a cumulonimbus. Those pockets hold hail stones. A supercell is created when a cold and warm front collide. I’ve been tracking this weather, watching and waiting. And look at how low they are—the little wisps and the rotation? Incredible. I can’t put words to it. It’s....” He looked up and noticed not only the rotation, but the twister that dropped down as she spoke. “A tornado.” Though he could appreciate the graphic description, breasts in the clouds and all, there were much bigger things than tittles in the sky to worry about. He grabbed her hand. “This way.” Jake dragged her at full run a hundred yards down the interstate toward a culvert that ran under the highway. They were lucky she’d stopped so close to it, or they’d be out of luck.She glanced back. “Oh. A tornado. Wait.” She lifted her camera and he jerked her around and all but shoved her over an auto-gate and down into a dried out stream bed. He gave her another push toward the galvanized pipe under the pavement, big enough for two people to squeeze into. “Get in there.” The beast roared behind them, drawing closer. Jake unclipped his flashlight and slapped it into her hand. She looked back again, but this time she didn’t hesitate, diving into the dark tunnel, the bright beam bouncing before her. He crawled in after her.

BOOKS ON SALE!

Cheeky Blonde:
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A unique, brewery based romantic suspense with humor and serious heat! a novel. JUST .99

blurb--Violence, intrigue, and passion are brewing in the craft beer world. When bitter rivals Jennifer Baxter and Sean Garrison meet, the notorious and handsome owner of Garrison Brothers Brewing stays true to form, seducing his rival at a national brewer’s convention.

Sean arrived at the convention expecting to get down to business, including his stated goal of hiring Jen away from Brick Street Brewery. But the beautiful fellow craft beer expert provides more of a distraction than he expected.

When sabotage strikes their fellow breweries, they unite to solve the mysteries. But fate and rumors brew more than beer as love, lust, jealousy, and misunderstanding collide in a way neither could have expected or anticipated.

Can they overcome the malicious chatter long enough to explore the emotion bubbling beneath the surface? Or will lust fall flat and leave them nothing but memories of the moment that slipped away?

Essence of Time: Stewart Realty book 4 (but can be read as stand alone/intro to series). A novel just $1.99BUY IT HERE blurb---For years, Rob Frietag has resisted anything resembling a true emotional connection, preferring instead to explore life, and his own desires, without committing to anyone for very long. The reason remains known only to a few, among them Jack Gordon, his college cohort in female conquests, and life-long friend. At thirty-seven, while he is close to achieving his career goal, head chef at a five-star restaurant in Chicago, he is still very much alone. 
After an intensely emotional relationship with Suzanne Baxter in Ann Arbor, Blake's heart is left shattered. Completely broken by what he believes was his one true love, he arrives at a Chicago food and beer festival, prepared to drink his sorrow away. When the two men meet, their lives change forever. But time is of the essence. When Rob acknowledges his true feelings, he will stop at nothing to keep them together, including finding a surrogate mother for the child Blake so desperately wants.
Lila Warren is recovering from a nasty divorce, needs cash and believes carrying their baby will fulfill her in ways marriage never did. None of them could suspect that the connection they share would provide the final emotional key to their life-long puzzle. 
When Rob’s secret is revealed, time becomes the one luxury they don't have, setting in motion a chain of events that destroys the fragile illusion of happiness for them, and everyone who loves them.
PARADISE HOP: Stand alone, brewery based, adult fiction. A novel just $1.99BUY IT HERE
Burb--A brutal attack left Lori Brockton convinced she was damaged goods. By the time she emerges from hiding two years later, ready to run her family's famous brewery, she's determined to be independent--never rely on anyone ever again. Nearly a year of working in every corner of Brockton Brewing Company, from warehouse to pub, front office to kitchen, teaches her all she needs to know about the business. Then, she comes face-to-face with masculine perfection in a suit and her world is rocked in more ways than one. Garret Hunter is the new Brockton business manager who takes one look at the beautiful, sad young woman and his entire existence coalesces around winning her heart. 
But standing between Garrett and what he believes is his true love, is a six-feet six-inch blond-haired bad boy brewer. 

Eli Buchannan is a craft beer rock star, recently hired by Brockton to drag the company into the 21st century. He brings innovation and attitude plus a prima donna ladies’ man reputation. But he's sworn off anything resembling commitment, personal or professional, after getting burned at his last job on both fronts. 

Garret Hunter is “The Perfect Man” -- handsome, successful, stable, eager to settle down. Eli Buchannan... is not. Compelling, smoking hot, creative and elusive, he represents everything Lori Brockton should avoid. But just as she makes a difficult choice, a drastic life-changing shift occurs, and nothing is ever the same again.
VEGAS MIRACLE--m/m/f menage with a slice of reality--a novel, just $1.99BUY IT HERE blurb: Ryan and Grace Sullivan have all the outward indications of a happy life: money, success, an undeniable physical attraction that quickly evolved from whirlwind relationship to marriage. But lately, Ryan’s become moody and distant. As their relationship starts to crumble, Ryan discovers something about himself he can’t admit just as Grace realizes the young man she encounters at an invitation only party, Henri Christophe, a celebrity chef with the most successful restaurant in Las Vegas, is her husband’s lover. But Henri holds a secret himself. He wants to be more to both of them.
Trying to make their unconventional arrangement work, Ryan’s deep-seated fear of relationship failure continues to thwart everyone’s happiness. When he finally walks away instead of confronting the emotional connection the trio share, he returns to find their lives flipped inside out. A sought after hotel and resort consultant, Ryan has yet to meet a problem he couldn’t solve. But when it comes to his own heart, Ryan may be too late.