Liz Crowe's Blog, page 25
August 23, 2012
Just Liz...Checking In....Pondering Life...and an Excerpt
Well...really I'm procrastinating. You see, I've reached that moment where the combination of successes and hard work this summer are resulting in, uh, yeah--more hard work.
It's a phenomenon I've been pondering lately and because I am here on my blog and you are there, reading it, I'm gonna share it with you.
As a writer I watch other, more successful ones -- I not only read many of their books, I observe how they interact with the (mostly internet) public via their social networking platforms, how much time they spend on this versus the actual "craft" itself. I can only speak as one whose successes are creeping along slowly but steadily and who is not bound by Major Publisher Deadlines but by deadlines of my own pretty strict design. But it seems to me that the key is the "craft."
***with 37 Amazon reviews averaging 4.5 STARS!
Write the dang book.
Promote it of course, but don't beat people over the head with it. Give it away free for a few days, sure, we've all done that. Blog hop until you can't see straight, then do a few more, you know because "one more reader" you reach is exactly that: "one more reader." Run the blurbs and excerpts up the flagpoles of your various and sundry Yahoo groups once or twice.
Then what?
A Just Erotic Romance Review GOLD STAR winner
Write the next dang book.
I take one of my favorite, most inspirational and creative sexy romance writers: Lauren Dane and study her website a fair bit. The woman has umpteen zillion titles to her name. She has written the dang books people. And trust me for those of you who have NOT done it--writing the book is a flipping hard thing. You drag characters and plots from nowhere (ideally, but then again I don't get the fan fic thing--that's just me so relax fan fictioneers), dump them out of your fevered, busy head and onto the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard, or clenched in anxiety when the words won't come.
5 STARS from The Romance Reviews and a Top Pick!
Then you spit and polish and submit (if you are new, you send it through the crit group/crit partner meat grinder FIRST please) and then edit, rewrite/revise, then again, then again. Then....it's done. It is a long grueling process that at times is so daunting it thwarts many a good-decent-potentially great writer from even finishing.
Another JERR Gold Star Winner and TRR Top Pick.
So this is me, Liz, sitting here with 4 books to galley check before sending them up for a next print run in anticipation of my book signing this fall-- a sequel that is nearly 40k words done but has only just reached the conflict--a new release to promote--a next book to edit for an October release--and yet another epic Stewart Realty novel to revise/edit/revise for said Fall signing.
Available August 25, 2012
The more you work, the more work you create. The more people who read you and become your fans, the more readers and fans there are still out there to discover you. The harder you try, there is still yet another more challenging project to craft (I know I have one in my head that I can't wait to start!). And the never ending cycle of write/edit/publish/promote/write/edit/publish/promote keeps spinning in endless squeaky circles, like a worn out ceiling fan you know you should turn off, but can't make yourself. Because really, it's a nice feeling, that breeze....
NEWS:
The Turkish Delights series is kicking reviewer ASS lately:
Tulip Princess gets 4 stars from The Romance Reviews:
http://erotic.theromancereviews.com/viewbooks.php?bookid=6167
Flower Passage gets 5 stars and a TOP PICK from The Romance Reviews: http://glbt.theromancereviews.com/viewbooksreview.php?bookid=6169
The Diplomat's Daughter gets 5 Hearts from The Romance Studio:
http://www.theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/diplomatsdaughtercrowe.htm
Lust on Tap is now available on All Romance Ebooks:
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-lustontap-910421-340.html
and Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Lust-on-Tap-ebook/dp/B008VS643U/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1345737610&sr=8-1&keywords=lust+on+tap+liz+crowe
You can PRE ORDER CONDITIONAL OFFER the 5th Stewart Realty book at ARe:
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-conditionaloffer-907922-148.html
And I'm hard at work on the sequel to Cheeky Blonde. Honey Red will be the story of Jen and Sean's brothers, Liam and Cameron and Hannah. It's a hot, emotional m/m/f story featuring a wounded warrior, a skittish single dad and a woman who brings them together. Here is a teensy taste:
The room was loud. The band was setting up about to get going. That weird tingly sensation hit him again. He looked around, ignoring the people in front of him seeking the red hair of one, and the blond of another. He ended the conversation, wandered back to the bar and had them pour him another mild lager. He was trying to keep it cool, to be the sober one. He sensed Hannah, as if their few encounters had encoded her smell, her touch, into his brain. Her hand on his waist, that then dropped down to his ass made his cock press against the back of his zipper so fast he gasped, and stepped away from her. “Cut it out,” he muttered into his beer. “Liam,” she whispered, setting his every nerve ending on edge. “I need you.”“No you don’t,” but he he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the crowd. There was a basement to the small club where Sean and Jen were throwing themselves a reception. And his body was crying out, fairly screaming for contact with her. He no longer heard the band, or the conversations, or pretty much anything but her voice in his ear as they found a dark corner.“Jesus, Red, what’s gotten into you?” he groaned and shoved her skirt up, needing to touch her, to taste her. “You have Liam. God help me.” She sighed, as he ran his thumb across her lips and stroked into her, hard up against the wall. “Yes, oh yes.” She gripped his hair, yanked his face to hers and kissed him as her body clenched around his, pulling him over the orgasmic edge fast.“Shit,” he grunted, gripping her ass and pumping into her. “You are…ah god.” She smiled, threaded her fingers in his hair. “Lucky me. I remembered your condoms.”“Yeah,” he said, burying his face between her breasts. A sweet scent filled his nose, something he’d noticed before around her but that seemed even more intense right now in this illicit hidden space under his brother’s newly married feet. “Hannah,” he sighed as his body released, tensing and holding her close while her pussy spasmed and pulsed around him. “Huh,” she said, lifting herself up and off him, zipping him back up and adjusting her dress. “That’s me.”He pulled the condom off and wrapped it in a paper towel, his face flushed and his heart pounding. He held her face, stared into her eyes. “You are going to kill me. Or something.”She bit his lower lip and slipped out from his touch again, like she always did. “Something I’d hope. So you’re around for more.” She took a few steps around the corner while he leaned there, trying to recover and get a grip on himself. “Oh, uh, hi, Cam.”Liam tucked is shirt back in fast, then looked up to see him, the man he had loved, still did, if he would admit it, standing with a look of disbelief on his face. “You smell like honey when you come,” Cam said, leaning into Hannah but keeping his face turned to Liam. “Sorry to interrupt. But your son is throwing a fit worthy of a pop star diva up there. I was sent to find you. I guess I can thank my dog that I got to catch the last bit of your quickie.”He turned and walked slowly back up the steps. Liam stood, mouth gaping open. Hannah scratched her nose, fiddled with her hair. “Wow.” She said, not looking at him. “Yeah,” he said, walking past her. But she put a hand on his arm.“I still don’t want any more from you…” she put a hand on his zipper. “But...you need to clear the air with him.” She said. “For both of your sakes.” Her eyes were sad and Liam felt all kinds of shitty at that moment. “Hannah, I…” But she turned from him, and climbed the stairs, leaving him alone yet again.
It's a hot one, I promise.
Oh, and for those of you awaiting your Jack Gordon fix, never fear! The next book Escalation Clause is currently being put through its editing paces! We will reveal the cover next week. In the meantime, if you haven't already TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOUT THE STEWART REALTY SERIES! I will happily Skype into a book club meeting with you to discuss it.
cheersLiz
It's a phenomenon I've been pondering lately and because I am here on my blog and you are there, reading it, I'm gonna share it with you.
As a writer I watch other, more successful ones -- I not only read many of their books, I observe how they interact with the (mostly internet) public via their social networking platforms, how much time they spend on this versus the actual "craft" itself. I can only speak as one whose successes are creeping along slowly but steadily and who is not bound by Major Publisher Deadlines but by deadlines of my own pretty strict design. But it seems to me that the key is the "craft."
***with 37 Amazon reviews averaging 4.5 STARS!Write the dang book.
Promote it of course, but don't beat people over the head with it. Give it away free for a few days, sure, we've all done that. Blog hop until you can't see straight, then do a few more, you know because "one more reader" you reach is exactly that: "one more reader." Run the blurbs and excerpts up the flagpoles of your various and sundry Yahoo groups once or twice.
Then what?
A Just Erotic Romance Review GOLD STAR winnerWrite the next dang book.
I take one of my favorite, most inspirational and creative sexy romance writers: Lauren Dane and study her website a fair bit. The woman has umpteen zillion titles to her name. She has written the dang books people. And trust me for those of you who have NOT done it--writing the book is a flipping hard thing. You drag characters and plots from nowhere (ideally, but then again I don't get the fan fic thing--that's just me so relax fan fictioneers), dump them out of your fevered, busy head and onto the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard, or clenched in anxiety when the words won't come.
5 STARS from The Romance Reviews and a Top Pick!Then you spit and polish and submit (if you are new, you send it through the crit group/crit partner meat grinder FIRST please) and then edit, rewrite/revise, then again, then again. Then....it's done. It is a long grueling process that at times is so daunting it thwarts many a good-decent-potentially great writer from even finishing.
Another JERR Gold Star Winner and TRR Top Pick.So this is me, Liz, sitting here with 4 books to galley check before sending them up for a next print run in anticipation of my book signing this fall-- a sequel that is nearly 40k words done but has only just reached the conflict--a new release to promote--a next book to edit for an October release--and yet another epic Stewart Realty novel to revise/edit/revise for said Fall signing.
Available August 25, 2012The more you work, the more work you create. The more people who read you and become your fans, the more readers and fans there are still out there to discover you. The harder you try, there is still yet another more challenging project to craft (I know I have one in my head that I can't wait to start!). And the never ending cycle of write/edit/publish/promote/write/edit/publish/promote keeps spinning in endless squeaky circles, like a worn out ceiling fan you know you should turn off, but can't make yourself. Because really, it's a nice feeling, that breeze....
NEWS:
The Turkish Delights series is kicking reviewer ASS lately:
Tulip Princess gets 4 stars from The Romance Reviews:
http://erotic.theromancereviews.com/viewbooks.php?bookid=6167
Flower Passage gets 5 stars and a TOP PICK from The Romance Reviews: http://glbt.theromancereviews.com/viewbooksreview.php?bookid=6169
The Diplomat's Daughter gets 5 Hearts from The Romance Studio:
http://www.theromancestudio.com/reviews/reviews/diplomatsdaughtercrowe.htm
Lust on Tap is now available on All Romance Ebooks:
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-lustontap-910421-340.html
and Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Lust-on-Tap-ebook/dp/B008VS643U/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1345737610&sr=8-1&keywords=lust+on+tap+liz+crowe
You can PRE ORDER CONDITIONAL OFFER the 5th Stewart Realty book at ARe:
https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-conditionaloffer-907922-148.html
And I'm hard at work on the sequel to Cheeky Blonde. Honey Red will be the story of Jen and Sean's brothers, Liam and Cameron and Hannah. It's a hot, emotional m/m/f story featuring a wounded warrior, a skittish single dad and a woman who brings them together. Here is a teensy taste:
The room was loud. The band was setting up about to get going. That weird tingly sensation hit him again. He looked around, ignoring the people in front of him seeking the red hair of one, and the blond of another. He ended the conversation, wandered back to the bar and had them pour him another mild lager. He was trying to keep it cool, to be the sober one. He sensed Hannah, as if their few encounters had encoded her smell, her touch, into his brain. Her hand on his waist, that then dropped down to his ass made his cock press against the back of his zipper so fast he gasped, and stepped away from her. “Cut it out,” he muttered into his beer. “Liam,” she whispered, setting his every nerve ending on edge. “I need you.”“No you don’t,” but he he grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the crowd. There was a basement to the small club where Sean and Jen were throwing themselves a reception. And his body was crying out, fairly screaming for contact with her. He no longer heard the band, or the conversations, or pretty much anything but her voice in his ear as they found a dark corner.“Jesus, Red, what’s gotten into you?” he groaned and shoved her skirt up, needing to touch her, to taste her. “You have Liam. God help me.” She sighed, as he ran his thumb across her lips and stroked into her, hard up against the wall. “Yes, oh yes.” She gripped his hair, yanked his face to hers and kissed him as her body clenched around his, pulling him over the orgasmic edge fast.“Shit,” he grunted, gripping her ass and pumping into her. “You are…ah god.” She smiled, threaded her fingers in his hair. “Lucky me. I remembered your condoms.”“Yeah,” he said, burying his face between her breasts. A sweet scent filled his nose, something he’d noticed before around her but that seemed even more intense right now in this illicit hidden space under his brother’s newly married feet. “Hannah,” he sighed as his body released, tensing and holding her close while her pussy spasmed and pulsed around him. “Huh,” she said, lifting herself up and off him, zipping him back up and adjusting her dress. “That’s me.”He pulled the condom off and wrapped it in a paper towel, his face flushed and his heart pounding. He held her face, stared into her eyes. “You are going to kill me. Or something.”She bit his lower lip and slipped out from his touch again, like she always did. “Something I’d hope. So you’re around for more.” She took a few steps around the corner while he leaned there, trying to recover and get a grip on himself. “Oh, uh, hi, Cam.”Liam tucked is shirt back in fast, then looked up to see him, the man he had loved, still did, if he would admit it, standing with a look of disbelief on his face. “You smell like honey when you come,” Cam said, leaning into Hannah but keeping his face turned to Liam. “Sorry to interrupt. But your son is throwing a fit worthy of a pop star diva up there. I was sent to find you. I guess I can thank my dog that I got to catch the last bit of your quickie.”He turned and walked slowly back up the steps. Liam stood, mouth gaping open. Hannah scratched her nose, fiddled with her hair. “Wow.” She said, not looking at him. “Yeah,” he said, walking past her. But she put a hand on his arm.“I still don’t want any more from you…” she put a hand on his zipper. “But...you need to clear the air with him.” She said. “For both of your sakes.” Her eyes were sad and Liam felt all kinds of shitty at that moment. “Hannah, I…” But she turned from him, and climbed the stairs, leaving him alone yet again.
It's a hot one, I promise.
Oh, and for those of you awaiting your Jack Gordon fix, never fear! The next book Escalation Clause is currently being put through its editing paces! We will reveal the cover next week. In the meantime, if you haven't already TELL YOUR FRIENDS ABOUT THE STEWART REALTY SERIES! I will happily Skype into a book club meeting with you to discuss it.
cheersLiz
August 15, 2012
Welcome Katie Harper! Across the Beer Bar with Liz
Welcome to my beer bar Katie! What can I pour for you to start?I am pregnant and totally miserable. I'd love to drown my sorrows in a vat of alcohol but I don't want a funny looking baby. So, I'll have a cranberry juice.**you know my mom loves to remind me that she kept drinking wine and smoking cigs while pregnant and basically it meant instead of squeezing out 10 pound babies they had 6 pounders****OH CALM DOWN ALL YOU HYSTERICS! THIS IS IN NO WAY TO ADVOCATE DRINKING OR SMOKING DURING THE PRECIOUS PREGNANT MONTHS. IT'S FUNNY.
You have a very cool book out right now...tell us about it.It's a cute little story about a woman, Kat Boudreaux, who used to be a mercenary/assassin/contract interrogator who leaves the life to get married. Her husband dies and she becomes the steward of a huge oil company. Someone from her past wants her dead. Her brother, a Force Recon Marine, and his unit decide they need to protect her. The unit's sniper, Shooter, is the only one tough enough to stand up to Kat. When her daughter is kidnapped she will do absolutely anything to save her. Murder, torture, nothing is off limits. Shooter has to decide if he can handle all that is Hell Kat Boudreaux.
Yeah, yeah, and so what I really want to know more about is....catnip man! Tell me the amazing romance novel you are CURRENTLY living in!Oh, you mean my sexy as all holy hell Brazilian husband. Five years ago, on Christmas Day, my first husband died. I'd decided to remain single and spend my nights snuggled up with a pile of hot romance novels. Then I meet Rogerio. I couldn't write a better romance novel hero. He's pretty much perfect. He is GORGEOUS! He practices Brazilian jiu jitsu. He's a pastry chef. He absolutely loves, adores, and spoils my seven year old daughter. He is the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate man in the whole world. Aaaaannnd....if he'd let me, based on his performance alone, I could write the sexiest, hottest love scenes EVER. So when he had the balls to ask me to marry him on Christmas Day, knowing how crappy that day had been for me in the past, I had to say yes. There really was no reason to say no. Now, I'm knocked up with his kid and drinking cranberry juice. *DOES HE HAVE A TWIN BROTHER?* ahem. sorry, said that out loud....
plus: what we all MUST know: boxers or briefs?Boxer briefs. The ones that hug their thighs and manly bits.....DAMN! This extra pregnancy blood flow is giving me a hot flash. Can you turn that fan on down there?
whoops empty glass--what can I get next for you?How about ice? Just ice. I need to cool down a bit.Oh honey wait 'til you get to my stage....the term "hot flash" does not do my power surges justice!
how did you come up with the idea for your book?When I first started writing I wrote this truly terrible spy epic. Some of my readers were a bit upset that the hero and heroine didn't fall in love. I couldn't see either of them being that vulnerable. So I took them out of that story and put them in one where they could fall in love. I wrote it to appease my pissed off readers.
Is this your first published book? tell us about your journey -- long? short? annoying? frustrating? easy?Yes. I started writing when I was locked up in a hospital for a month. You can only watch so many episodes of Maury testing 60 guys to discover the paternity of one child before you're begging the nurse to throw you out of a sixth floor window. Nurse Nancy wouldn't play Splatter the Patient, so I started writing. Never Say Just was my third finished book. I'd tried to have my other two published, but no one wanted them. I think I received more rejections than a pimp in a nunnery. I never intended to publish Never Say Just. It was my first romance novel. It didn't sound like a typical romance novel. It has guns, fighting, murder, torture. It's not romantic in a traditional sense. I joined a critique group and the members told me to submit it. So I did and it was accepted right away. I guess snarky, sarcastic stories about bitches who could kill you fifteen different ways with a paperclip are romantic.
and now for a nightcap what's your poison?I think I'm going to have Brazilian catnip.
Bragger....seriously Katie you are the bomb and you deserve all the catnip, morning sickness, and dirty diapers you get! Love ya and good luck!Oh, she's giving away a free copy of her book to one lucky commenter so leave us some love down there...I mean...oh you know what I mean.Buy Never Say Just:
http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=569&osCsid=3ild4a4d4f5s7d44kdmd634ra4
http://www.amazon.com/Never-Say-Just-ebook/dp/B008C9MD06/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1344886493&sr=1-1&keywords=never+say+just
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html
Liz
Welcome to my beer bar Katie! What can I pour for you to...
Welcome to my beer bar Katie! What can I pour for you to start?I am pregnant and totally miserable. I'd love to drown my sorrows in a vat of alcohol but I don't want a funny looking baby. So, I'll have a cranberry juice.**you know my mom loves to remind me that she kept drinking wine and smoking cigs while pregnant and basically it meant instead of squeezing out 10 pound babies they had 6 pounders****OH CALM DOWN ALL YOU HYSTERICS! THIS IS IN NO WAY TO ADVOCATE DRINKING OR SMOKING DURING THE PRECIOUS PREGNANT MONTHS. IT'S FUNNY.
You have a very cool book out right now...tell us about it.It's a cute little story about a woman, Kat Boudreaux, who used to be a mercenary/assassin/contract interrogator who leaves the life to get married. Her husband dies and she becomes the steward of a huge oil company. Someone from her past wants her dead. Her brother, a Force Recon Marine, and his unit decide they need to protect her. The unit's sniper, Shooter, is the only one tough enough to stand up to Kat. When her daughter is kidnapped she will do absolutely anything to save her. Murder, torture, nothing is off limits. Shooter has to decide if he can handle all that is Hell Kat Boudreaux.
Yeah, yeah, and so what I really want to know more about is....catnip man! Tell me the amazing romance novel you are CURRENTLY living in!Oh, you mean my sexy as all holy hell Brazilian husband. Five years ago, on Christmas Day, my first husband died. I'd decided to remain single and spend my nights snuggled up with a pile of hot romance novels. Then I meet Rogerio. I couldn't write a better romance novel hero. He's pretty much perfect. He is GORGEOUS! He practices Brazilian jiu jitsu. He's a pastry chef. He absolutely loves, adores, and spoils my seven year old daughter. He is the kindest, sweetest, most compassionate man in the whole world. Aaaaannnd....if he'd let me, based on his performance alone, I could write the sexiest, hottest love scenes EVER. So when he had the balls to ask me to marry him on Christmas Day, knowing how crappy that day had been for me in the past, I had to say yes. There really was no reason to say no. Now, I'm knocked up with his kid and drinking cranberry juice. *DOES HE HAVE A TWIN BROTHER?* ahem. sorry, said that out loud....
plus: what we all MUST know: boxers or briefs?Boxer briefs. The ones that hug their thighs and manly bits.....DAMN! This extra pregnancy blood flow is giving me a hot flash. Can you turn that fan on down there?
whoops empty glass--what can I get next for you?How about ice? Just ice. I need to cool down a bit.Oh honey wait 'til you get to my stage....the term "hot flash" does not do my power surges justice!
how did you come up with the idea for your book?When I first started writing I wrote this truly terrible spy epic. Some of my readers were a bit upset that the hero and heroine didn't fall in love. I couldn't see either of them being that vulnerable. So I took them out of that story and put them in one where they could fall in love. I wrote it to appease my pissed off readers.
Is this your first published book? tell us about your journey -- long? short? annoying? frustrating? easy?Yes. I started writing when I was locked up in a hospital for a month. You can only watch so many episodes of Maury testing 60 guys to discover the paternity of one child before you're begging the nurse to throw you out of a sixth floor window. Nurse Nancy wouldn't play Splatter the Patient, so I started writing. Never Say Just was my third finished book. I'd tried to have my other two published, but no one wanted them. I think I received more rejections than a pimp in a nunnery. I never intended to publish Never Say Just. It was my first romance novel. It didn't sound like a typical romance novel. It has guns, fighting, murder, torture. It's not romantic in a traditional sense. I joined a critique group and the members told me to submit it. So I did and it was accepted right away. I guess snarky, sarcastic stories about bitches who could kill you fifteen different ways with a paperclip are romantic.
and now for a nightcap what's your poison?I think I'm going to have Brazilian catnip.
Bragger....seriously Katie you are the bomb and you deserve all the catnip, morning sickness, and dirty diapers you get! Love ya and good luck!Oh, she's giving away a free copy of her book to one lucky commenter so leave us some love down there...I mean...oh you know what I mean.Buy Never Say Just:
http://www.decadentpublishing.com/product_info.php?products_id=569&osCsid=3ild4a4d4f5s7d44kdmd634ra4
http://www.amazon.com/Never-Say-Just-ebook/dp/B008C9MD06/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1344886493&sr=1-1&keywords=never+say+just
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/storeSearch.html
Liz
August 14, 2012
BOOK BLAST: Crimson Footprints by Shewanda Pugh
CRIMSON FOOTPRINTSByShewanda Pugh
BLURB: When an insecure, bi-racial woman begins a cloak-and-dagger love affair with a Japanese American man, she is intent on keeping her bigoted family in the dark—albeit with devastating consequences. On the night of her brother’s murder, Deena Hammond stumbles upon Takumi Tanaka, lost and on the wrong end of a .32. After rescuing him from the certain fate driving through the hood in a Porsche will bring, a sweet kind of friendship begins. A balm for her grief. Maybe, Deena likes to think, it happened the day her white mother killed her black father. Or maybe, it was always a part of them, like DNA gone bad. Whatever the case, Deena knows that her family would never approve, hell, never acknowledge her fast-growing love for Takumi. And had he never made love to her that way, in that unraveling, soul-searching sort of way, she could’ve done the same. But love’s a devil that way. So, their game begins. One where they hide what they are from everyone. Anyone. And Tak understands this—for now. After all, Deena’s career hinges on the favor of her mentor and boss, his hard-ass of a father. And the Hammond family is already stretched thin with grief. Yet, each step Deena takes toward family and career brings her closer to an acceptance she’s never had. And away from him.
EXCERPT: Please choose ONE to use with your postExcerpt One“I wish that I didn’t want my family’s love so bad. I wish I could be one of those people who wore leather jackets and didn’t give a damned.”Tak shot her a look. “You’d be musty if you wore a leather jacket in this heat.”Deena grinned. “You know what I mean.”He shrugged. “Who doesn’t want a decent family, Dee? It’s not much to ask for.”Tak paused to pluck a seashell from the sand. Chipped and polished by time, it shone under the glint of a fast setting sun. “I don’t know the answers,” he said. “But they seem to be in things like this,” he held up the shell.She frowned. “I don’t follow.”He shrugged. “Well think about it. What’s a shell? It’s just a—a hard, protective outer layer.” He hurled it in the ocean. “The same is true with family. They’re an outer layer, a protection from the world. At least that’s what they’re supposed to be.” He paused. “Think about what happens when you screw with an animal that has one of those hard shells. What does he do?”“He goes into it.”“Right. He retreats.” He thumbed the shell thoughtfully. “Now imagine if you were to rip the shell off a turtle and expose him. What do you think you’d find?”Deena cringed. “Something soft and hurting.“And dead, if not close to it. So, our hypothetical turtle, who’s able to stand our shell transplant, needs another shell, another form of protection. And so do you.” Tak handed the grooved and sand-polished subject to Deena. She looked down at it.“So, how’ve I been surviving all this time? What’s my shell?”Tak grinned. “Tell you what. I’ll let you know when I crack it.”
Copyright by Shewanda Pugh
AUTHOR INFORMATION:
Shewanda Pugh is a native of Boston’s inner city, though she now lives in sunny Miami, Florida. She has a bachelor’s degree in Political Science from Alabama A&M University and a Master’s in Writing from Nova Southeastern University. Fueled from a young age, her passion for crossing societal boundaries like race, class and culture, is the inspiration for both her cluttered bookshelf and her writing. When she’s not busy obsessing over fiction, she can be found traveling, nursing her social networking addiction or enjoying the company of loved ones.
Shewanda is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift card at the end of her tour! check out all the dates here:
http://goddessfishpromotions.blogspot.com/2012/07/book-blurb-blitz-tour-crimson.html.
[image error]
LINKS:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Author.ShewandaPugh Twitter: https://twitter.com/ShewandaP Follow on Twitter: @ShewandaPBlog: http://shewandapugh.blogspot.com/ www.shewandapugh.com
August 9, 2012
LUST ON TAP RELEASE DAY! Welcome NYT BSA Laurann Dohner to the Beer Bar!
You are a true writing success story. Tell us a little about how you got into this business.
I loved to read, wrote poetry in my teens, but never thought I’d write books. Then when I was 22 I read a horrible romance that really ticked me off. The lead was the kind of guy I’d have shot before I kissed and the woman just...was pathetic. I won’t mince words. I wanted to scream “WAKE UP” at the character. I thought...I could do better! Mr. Laurann bought me a word processor and it took me a year to write my first book. I wrote for fun for years until 2009 when I sent in Ral’s Woman and Ellorascave accepted it. It changed my life.
You have a lot of series out. I'm addicted to reading and writing series myself but they come with a built in issue in that you have to explain to people your books are "part of a damn series read them in order please."
What is your personal favorite series you've read? What about your own series...which one is your favorite and why?
My favorite all time series would be the Psy/Changeling series by Nalini Singh. Every time a new one comes out - I’m at a book store when those doors open to buy the latest. My personal favorite series of mine would probably be New Species just because I spent so many years writing them...and then was able to salvage them to get them published...plus write new ones.
Did you grow up wanting to be an author? If not, what was your dream job? No. LOL. I thought I’d do something working with animals - like being a veterinarian. I’m glad I got into writing instead. There’s always a happy ending with my books.
Oh look, empty glass. What can I get next for you?I drink iced coffee.Huh. Well that’s a real bummer. I’ll wait here while you run down to Starbucks….*taps foot and drinks a beer in the meantime*
Welcome back. When you aren't writing, what is your second favorite thing to do?
I love to watch movies. I’m kind of obsessive about seeing every zombie, end of the world, Underworld/Blade/Alien types of movies...plus anything with comic book characters. I love ‘guy’ action films. You know, those shoot’em up, blow’em apart, and kick bad guy butt films.
We have a mutual friend who has a great reader group on Facebook. For me it's been instrumental helping me reach actual readers so I can stop harassing fellow authors with all my promotions. How has it been beneficial to you?
I’ve made some terrific friends. That wonderful Ditter the Great has introduced me to a lot of people and she’s talked a lot of them into reading my books. She’s awesome and the group is just a really fun place to hang out.
Do you prefer reading/writing paranormal romance? why or why not?
I read a LOT of vampire books. I love them. I’ve written two stories for the Something Wicked This Way Comes anthologies with that as the topic but I tend to write about other stuff. It’s just a really nice break for me to escape into that.
Major congrats on the huge deal with Ellora's Cave. In your honest opinion do you believe that you have to be connected to one of the "Bigs" (as in publishers) to truly make it in this very competitive and very crowded market?
I love Ellorascave and everyone who works there. They gave a chance to a virtual nobody in the writing world. I think if you write a great book - it sells. The fact that I write for Ellorascave gave me a lot of exposure to their readers and it launched my career as an author. I don’t believe I could be where I am without them, especially this fast. I’ve made a lot of author friends over the years and they’ve had some great success too, from different launching pads. I have one friend who does really well with self publishing, another friend who writes for one of the big print houses, and another who writes for another ebook publisher. Basically, write a book people want to read and you can do it. Exposure though determines how fast you get where you want to be in the writing world. My home is with Ellorascave. They are the perfect fit for me. I’m really happy writing books for them and I think that shows. Write what you love and work with people who you admire and enjoy. It’s a win/win!
Ok night cap time: what's your poison?I’d love another iced coffee. I live on this stuff. Yeah. Well, too bad. Here is more tap water.
Any final thoughts you'd like to leave behind at the beer bar?
Thank you for interviewing me. I deeply appreciate it. It was a lot of fun.
LUST ON TAP! Available now from Ellora’s Cave. http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10265-lust-on-tap.aspx
BLURB: When wealthy brewery owner Dustin Prufrock meets sexy saleswoman Helena Turner, sparks fly—angry sparks. They seem destined to do nothing but clash, until a hot hook-up in a cold beer cooler changes everything.
For Dustin, it’s a life-changing moment and one that sets him on a path away from his birthright. Helena is forced to face her fears about committing to a man considered the playboy of the micro brewing world. The power of pre-conceived notions nearly tears them apart, until they meet up with Erik, Dustin’s old friend from the brewing institute in Munich, who provides them with an erotic and emotional connection that completes them all.
But fate has different plans, and Dustin is forced to take responsibility for his old life as heir to a large business. While he slips back into his expected role, Helena and Erik are thrown together in an attempt to run Dustin’s brewery without him. But the strength and trust of their once-balanced threesome has been shattered, and mutual lust might not be enough to keep them all together.
For info on my back list visit: www.lizcrowe.com
Friend me on FB: http://www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthorFollow me on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/beerwencha2Join my street team! http://groups.yahoo.com/group/LizCroweStreetTeam/Join the Romance for Real Life conversation on Facebook!http://www.facebook.com/groups/RomanceForRealLife/
August 2, 2012
COVER ART and a Blurb...and a contest!
Greetings fans, readers, followers, stalkers, creepers/others!
I am thrilled to announce that CONDITIONAL OFFER: STEWART REALTY BOOK 5 has cover art AND a blurb and......come a little closer....no...closer...there, that's lovely. I am gonna post an excerpt and I am giving away Not $10...not $25...but $50 in the form of an Amazon Gift Card for a simple answer to a question waaaaay down at the bottom of this COVER ART announcement post!
I love this thing. It's Craig's story...and it turns out that Mr. Robinson was a very bad boy, a very unfocused young man by the time he claps eyes on Sara in Floor Time....
RELEASE DATE: August 25, 2012 from Tri Destiny Publishing. The best selling Stewart Realty saga continues!
Blurb: Craig Robinson and Suzanne Baxter had no reason to meet, no real excuse to be friends. But when heart calls to heart...blood to blood...should two people who seem destined to be together heed the spin of Fate's wheel? Craig spent years floating through life on cruise control, using directionless jobs, his rock band, swimming, and a string of older women in his bed to smother feelings of loneliness and loss. He finally thought he had found his true love in one Sara Thornton -- A sexy, beautiful, fellow real estate agent and mentor. But his self-doubt and innate sense of failure is only reinforced when he realizes her heart belongs to another man. When Sara introduces him to Suzanne, a woman fighting her own demons from an abusive marriage and subsequent feelings of inadequacy and deep unhappiness, that chance moment snaps Craig's hazy existence into crystal clear focus. A bond born of instant physical attraction is nurtured by time and shared experience, and plenty of erotic energy. As Suzanne's past continues to haunt her, making her push Craig away just as he thinks he’s getting closer, each of them must come to terms with their true selves and face their ultimate realities.
and an exclusive, currently-in-editing, excerpt (shhh....do not tell the publisher):
“Hey,” he answered his sister’s call by rote, wondering how many of them were on the other line this time. “Sort of busy,” he wasn’t at that moment but was not in the mood for their crap.“Craig!” Grace shrieked in his ear. “When did you start modeling?”“What?” he half ignored his oldest sister, one of three who’d taken one look at him as an infant and been instantly infatuated. They had coddled him, fussed over him, and he had to barely lift a finger to do anything the majority of his growing up years. He never exerted energy with laundry, cleaning or preparing food---nothing but taking care of himself his entire life until he moved to college. And even then they’d been at him reminding him to brush, floss, wash, wear condoms, well, not that that last bit. He groaned, determined not to blame the phalanx of women on the other end of the phone for his own failures. “Craig,” another one grabbed the phone. Frannie, the high school principal spoke low in his ear. “We saw a…a ... book cover. And, you, your…”“What the fuck are you…” he rolled his eyes when Lillian took the phone.“Sweetie, we didn’t know you were modeling.”“I’m not.” He growled, worry setting up a distinct home base in his chest.“Well, you’re on a book cover. I hope you’re getting paid.”“Holy shit. How do you, I mean…” he clapped his hand over his eyes, remembering that night, with the camera, and the guitar.“Are you gay?” his bold youngest sister blurted into his ear.“No. I’m definitely not gay.” He opened his laptop, and pulled up google.“Well, you are on the cover of a best selling man love novel. ‘His Guitar Cowboy’ is climbing the charts. And my brother’s near naked bod is on the cover.” He tried not to yell. “Okay. Well, how do you…I mean..”“Your face, you dumb ass. Your pretty boy mug is there, along with your chest, arms, hands, guitar, and legs. You know, we can imagine the rest given your bare hip, sticking out from the side of the instrument.”“Holy fucking shit.” He groaned and sank into his chair.
oh heavens...Craig what HAVE you gotten yourself into now????
You guys will love this book I promise. And...on the horizon, Escalation Clause. The next full length novel of the Stewart Realty series. coming November 4--the day of my first Ann Arbor book store party/signing/beer bash. I have hotel info. join us!!!love yaLiz
what? Oh yeah..the question...what is the name of the man love book where Craig's shocked sisters found his image???
I will pick a winner on Thursday, August 9.
I am thrilled to announce that CONDITIONAL OFFER: STEWART REALTY BOOK 5 has cover art AND a blurb and......come a little closer....no...closer...there, that's lovely. I am gonna post an excerpt and I am giving away Not $10...not $25...but $50 in the form of an Amazon Gift Card for a simple answer to a question waaaaay down at the bottom of this COVER ART announcement post!I love this thing. It's Craig's story...and it turns out that Mr. Robinson was a very bad boy, a very unfocused young man by the time he claps eyes on Sara in Floor Time....
RELEASE DATE: August 25, 2012 from Tri Destiny Publishing. The best selling Stewart Realty saga continues!
Blurb: Craig Robinson and Suzanne Baxter had no reason to meet, no real excuse to be friends. But when heart calls to heart...blood to blood...should two people who seem destined to be together heed the spin of Fate's wheel? Craig spent years floating through life on cruise control, using directionless jobs, his rock band, swimming, and a string of older women in his bed to smother feelings of loneliness and loss. He finally thought he had found his true love in one Sara Thornton -- A sexy, beautiful, fellow real estate agent and mentor. But his self-doubt and innate sense of failure is only reinforced when he realizes her heart belongs to another man. When Sara introduces him to Suzanne, a woman fighting her own demons from an abusive marriage and subsequent feelings of inadequacy and deep unhappiness, that chance moment snaps Craig's hazy existence into crystal clear focus. A bond born of instant physical attraction is nurtured by time and shared experience, and plenty of erotic energy. As Suzanne's past continues to haunt her, making her push Craig away just as he thinks he’s getting closer, each of them must come to terms with their true selves and face their ultimate realities.
and an exclusive, currently-in-editing, excerpt (shhh....do not tell the publisher):
“Hey,” he answered his sister’s call by rote, wondering how many of them were on the other line this time. “Sort of busy,” he wasn’t at that moment but was not in the mood for their crap.“Craig!” Grace shrieked in his ear. “When did you start modeling?”“What?” he half ignored his oldest sister, one of three who’d taken one look at him as an infant and been instantly infatuated. They had coddled him, fussed over him, and he had to barely lift a finger to do anything the majority of his growing up years. He never exerted energy with laundry, cleaning or preparing food---nothing but taking care of himself his entire life until he moved to college. And even then they’d been at him reminding him to brush, floss, wash, wear condoms, well, not that that last bit. He groaned, determined not to blame the phalanx of women on the other end of the phone for his own failures. “Craig,” another one grabbed the phone. Frannie, the high school principal spoke low in his ear. “We saw a…a ... book cover. And, you, your…”“What the fuck are you…” he rolled his eyes when Lillian took the phone.“Sweetie, we didn’t know you were modeling.”“I’m not.” He growled, worry setting up a distinct home base in his chest.“Well, you’re on a book cover. I hope you’re getting paid.”“Holy shit. How do you, I mean…” he clapped his hand over his eyes, remembering that night, with the camera, and the guitar.“Are you gay?” his bold youngest sister blurted into his ear.“No. I’m definitely not gay.” He opened his laptop, and pulled up google.“Well, you are on the cover of a best selling man love novel. ‘His Guitar Cowboy’ is climbing the charts. And my brother’s near naked bod is on the cover.” He tried not to yell. “Okay. Well, how do you…I mean..”“Your face, you dumb ass. Your pretty boy mug is there, along with your chest, arms, hands, guitar, and legs. You know, we can imagine the rest given your bare hip, sticking out from the side of the instrument.”“Holy fucking shit.” He groaned and sank into his chair.
oh heavens...Craig what HAVE you gotten yourself into now????
You guys will love this book I promise. And...on the horizon, Escalation Clause. The next full length novel of the Stewart Realty series. coming November 4--the day of my first Ann Arbor book store party/signing/beer bash. I have hotel info. join us!!!love yaLiz
what? Oh yeah..the question...what is the name of the man love book where Craig's shocked sisters found his image???
I will pick a winner on Thursday, August 9.
July 17, 2012
Cheeky Blonde WINNERS and a Lusty Announcement!
Congrats to:Marie LiskandKimmy Lwho won FREE COPIES of my latest release: Cheeky Blondeand to Cara Marsi who will receive a swag pack from my brewery!
I was told yesterday that the release date for LUST ON TAP has been set!August 10, 2012 my first Ellora's Cave book will be available.
Blurb:
When wealthy brewery owner Dustin Prufrock meets sexy saleswoman Helena Turner, sparks fly—angry sparks. They seem destined to do nothing but clash, until a hot hook-up in a cold beer cooler changes everything.
For Dustin, it’s a life-changing moment and one that sets him on a path away from his birthright. Helena is forced to face her fears about committing to a man considered the playboy of the micro brewing world. The power of pre-conceived notions nearly tears them apart, until they meet up with Erik, Dustin’s old friend from the brewing institute in Munich, who provides them with an erotic and emotional connection that completes them all.
But fate has different plans, and Dustin is forced to take responsibility for his old life as heir to a large business. While he slips back into his expected role, Helena and Erik are thrown together in an attempt to run Dustin’s brewery without him. But the strength and trust of their once-balanced threesome has been shattered, and mutual lust might not be enough to keep them all together.
Click here for an excerpt (mainly because I can't get effing Blogger to cooperate with me!
YEAH BABY....mark those reading calendars NOW
For August 10!cheersLiz
July 10, 2012
Summer Time is BEER Time with a HOT Giveaway
Greetings Liz fans, followers, stalkers, creepers and non-haters!
My latest book, CHEEKY BLONDE was released last week from Decadent Publishing and I am so excited about this story of romantic, humorous suspense I am gonna give away a copy or two PLUS a gift box of swag from MY Brewery (the Wolverine State Brewing Co. in Ann Arbor) including a tee shirt, a pint glass, a ball cap. AND a $50 gift card from a local (Ann Arbor based) foodie mail order company called Zingerman's. I'd encourage you to click the live link for them. They are nationally famous having been featured on Oprah, about a million food channel shows and tons of magazine. They ship anywhere from their mail order catalog and I can personally recommend either the Road House Joe coffee or the sweet rolls but it's all good, trust me!
This is a sweet prize pack, let me assure you....and why all this goodness?? Well, CHEEKY BLONDE is not only set in Ann Arbor it's based in a relatively small, start up microbrewery and asks the "what if?" question I love so much as in...."What if you met your hugest rival at a big national beer festival, a guy you were convinced was the Evil Emperor of micro brewing based on mostly hearsay, but found out for yourself that was not quite the case. And what if that guy turned out to be the man you might, possibly love?"
Damn I LOVE This story....So on with the egregious promotional bit (hey this is my blog after all). You gotta answer the question at the end of the excerpt to win!
Cheeky Blonde 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?
And an NC17 rated excerpt: She pushed open the bathroom door and walked out into the dark room at the bottom of a long flight of steps. Within seconds inside the room, she realized she was not alone.
“So.” A deep voice came from the vicinity of the pool table further out in the room. “Nice event. Well planned and executed. All the right beer yakkers and necessary geeks in attendance and properly fawning.”
Sean Garrison sat perched on a table, elbows on denim-clad knees. He leveled a stare at her through the gloom. Air from the downstairs cold storage streamed across the floor between them, chilling her from the ankles up.
She stumbled back, sending a stack of empty stainless steel beer kegs clanging to the floor. Mortified, she jumped from the mess then shuddered when she sensed him close enough to touch her. Shoulders squared, she faced him and choked back the urge to reach out to him, if only to run a fingertip along his just rolled-out-of-bed stubbled jaw.
“Well, as I live and breathe, Sean Garrison knows who I am, and if I’m not mistaken, has stalked me down to the ladies’ room.” She pulled her hair out of its band and let it flow around her shoulders. “Should I sound an alarm?”
He chuckled, bringing chills to her entire body. She crossed her arms, trying not to clutch at her elbows and give away her anxiety. In one step, he was close enough to put his empty, still cool glass against the skin of her arm. She flushed, irritated at her reaction to him. She was conscious of his body’s heat; the subtle hint of his cologne tinged with the familiar odors of beer. When she leaned back to look into his eyes, their bright blue depths made her blink.
“Oh, um, well, I mean, thanks—you know for the earlier compliment.” She cursed herself.
His other hand traced a line down her arm. She gritted her teeth against the urge to sigh with satisfaction. Someone stomped on the floor above her head and laughter roared through the whole place, a not-so-subtle reminder that a party was going on upstairs. But at this moment, the universe had shrunk to the two of them.
“Sure,” he said, his lips once again too close for comfort. His fingers grazed her skin, the touch zinging straight to her panties. She’d not had such a reaction to a man in years. She fought the urge to shove him away and run up the steps. Mainly because what she really wanted was for him to keep doing what he was doing.
“No need to be alarmed,” he said, backing away a fraction. “Wanted to make sure I paid my respects to the new queen of beer marketing before you left.”
“I suppose this is where I’m supposed to say something that sucks up to the emperor?”
She tried to move back, farther away, before his lips came closer.He smiled but took a few more steps back and leaned on the pool table where he’d been sitting. She mirrored him, taking a seat on an old barstool.
“Yeah, well….” He ran a hand down his face, his smile changing from slightly predatory to rueful. The concept that he might actually be unnerved nearly made her stifle a giggle.
“You know….” He patted the spot on the pool table next to him, indicating she should join him, but she stayed put. He shrugged. “The only thing I would have done differently?”
Jen frowned, already processing her mistakes according to the acknowledged marketing expert.
“More John Q. Beer Public in the place.”
“How in the hell could I have crammed another body in here?” She winced at her defensive tone.
“These guys have a third floor. You could have had your little media circus up there, then kept the entire first floor teeming with the beer geeks raving about your funky little project.”
Bastard was right. Word of mouth was the mantra she’d operated under for five years in this business. How did she overlook it for this important day?
“Shit,” she muttered.
“Then again, what do I know?” He pushed himself up off the table and took her hand. Still too pissed at herself, at the mistake she’d made, it took her a minute to realize he was touching her. Again.“I should—” He started, but seemed distracted all of a sudden. She fixated on his lips—sheer temptation, at once close and far away.“You should what?” Her voice came out barely a whisper to her own ears. The deadly quiet coiled between them, the muted sounds of footsteps and music a distant background to her breathing, which sounded rushed, desperate. “Yeah, well, you know, these things take a lot of planning and I—” She shut up before babbling any more nonsense to keep him from leaving, but he closed the gap between them, exactly like she figured he would, and ran a finger down her face. His thumb passed over her lips.
“Look,” she said, regaining some sense. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—” She made a small noise of surprise when his lips took hers, smothering all words, thoughts, and logic. Soft, supple yet entirely in control, he tasted delicious, the distinct tang of Cheeky Blonde a ghostly presence on their tongues. She leaned back against the wall and nearly tripped over the empty keg behind her, but he reached out to brace them, curving her into his embrace.
Before she could speak, or protest, or do anything she knew she ought to do to get out of the situation, she reached out, tugged him closer, wrapped her arms around his neck, and met his kiss halfway. He made a sound deep in his throat and ran his hands down her back to her ass, pulling her against him. The sensation of falling down a deep well of forbidden desire forced a swirl of images and possibilities through her brain.
She pulled away, breaking the contact, hoping to get her head straight. He licked his way along her jaw and down her neck. Her sleeveless, low-cut summer shirt gave no resistance when his lips landed at the top of her breasts. When he maneuvered a hand around to open her bra clasp in one swift motion before he pulled the fabric aside to suck a rock hard nipple into his mouth, she groaned, tried to disentangle herself.
“Wait, Sean.” But even as she spoke, she threaded her fingers in his thick black hair. The spun silk sensation exactly as she’d imagined it. “The bathroom, what if…?”
“Had somebody take the sign down. Don’t worry.” He leaned in to nuzzle her exposed breasts. “I put it there to begin with, anyway.”She frowned. He’d arranged this whole scene, followed her downstairs, and had practically lain in wait for her. Now this was one for the diary. The master of the micro-brewing universe had sought her out and had his—she did gasp this time, as he kissed her with such intensity the room spun.
She kept her fingers in his hair and kissed him back. The spark ignited between them centered right in her damp panties. Hesitating about a second, enough time for her brain to remind her exactly what she was doing, Jen propped one foot up on the overturned keg at her feet.
“Mmm…” He mumbled around her lips, his erection a heated rod between them. She reached down, felt its heft under his zipper. She allowed herself a quick second to detach, to watch as the man who most people admired, feared, and hated for his success shoved a thigh between her legs, finally allowing her clit some much needed contact.
“Touch me,” she whispered, and closed her eyes as he shoved her poor excuse for a skirt up and dove inside her soaking panties. Teasing her swollen clit, he leaned in, bracing himself against the wall.
“Give me that nipple.” He growled. She yanked her shirt aside again and clapped her palm over her mouth to keep from moaning when he sucked hard and plunged two fingers inside her. She clutched his arm, angling her hips to give him room. He pressed deeper, keeping his thumb in contact with her engorged nub.
“Now kiss me like you mean it,” she whispered. He lifted his dark head from her breast. Holding her gaze, he pushed up higher, reaching that nerve bundle under her pubic bone, and her knees buckled. His deep midnight-blue gaze never left hers until the moment he obeyed and slanted his mouth over hers.
The orgasm roared up from her core. The vortex that had held her spun once again, making her bite her lip to keep from crying out.
OKAY KIDS: What was Sean's advice to Jen about the debut party?
Can't win if you don't answer the question!
Three Prizes To Win! The contest runs for a solid week....CheersLiz
Oh, and if you CAN'T wait for the giveaway....
Buy links:
ARe
Amazon
Decadent Publishing
Snashwords
My latest book, CHEEKY BLONDE was released last week from Decadent Publishing and I am so excited about this story of romantic, humorous suspense I am gonna give away a copy or two PLUS a gift box of swag from MY Brewery (the Wolverine State Brewing Co. in Ann Arbor) including a tee shirt, a pint glass, a ball cap. AND a $50 gift card from a local (Ann Arbor based) foodie mail order company called Zingerman's. I'd encourage you to click the live link for them. They are nationally famous having been featured on Oprah, about a million food channel shows and tons of magazine. They ship anywhere from their mail order catalog and I can personally recommend either the Road House Joe coffee or the sweet rolls but it's all good, trust me!
This is a sweet prize pack, let me assure you....and why all this goodness?? Well, CHEEKY BLONDE is not only set in Ann Arbor it's based in a relatively small, start up microbrewery and asks the "what if?" question I love so much as in...."What if you met your hugest rival at a big national beer festival, a guy you were convinced was the Evil Emperor of micro brewing based on mostly hearsay, but found out for yourself that was not quite the case. And what if that guy turned out to be the man you might, possibly love?"
Damn I LOVE This story....So on with the egregious promotional bit (hey this is my blog after all). You gotta answer the question at the end of the excerpt to win!
Cheeky Blonde 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?
And an NC17 rated excerpt: She pushed open the bathroom door and walked out into the dark room at the bottom of a long flight of steps. Within seconds inside the room, she realized she was not alone.
“So.” A deep voice came from the vicinity of the pool table further out in the room. “Nice event. Well planned and executed. All the right beer yakkers and necessary geeks in attendance and properly fawning.”
Sean Garrison sat perched on a table, elbows on denim-clad knees. He leveled a stare at her through the gloom. Air from the downstairs cold storage streamed across the floor between them, chilling her from the ankles up.
She stumbled back, sending a stack of empty stainless steel beer kegs clanging to the floor. Mortified, she jumped from the mess then shuddered when she sensed him close enough to touch her. Shoulders squared, she faced him and choked back the urge to reach out to him, if only to run a fingertip along his just rolled-out-of-bed stubbled jaw.
“Well, as I live and breathe, Sean Garrison knows who I am, and if I’m not mistaken, has stalked me down to the ladies’ room.” She pulled her hair out of its band and let it flow around her shoulders. “Should I sound an alarm?”
He chuckled, bringing chills to her entire body. She crossed her arms, trying not to clutch at her elbows and give away her anxiety. In one step, he was close enough to put his empty, still cool glass against the skin of her arm. She flushed, irritated at her reaction to him. She was conscious of his body’s heat; the subtle hint of his cologne tinged with the familiar odors of beer. When she leaned back to look into his eyes, their bright blue depths made her blink.
“Oh, um, well, I mean, thanks—you know for the earlier compliment.” She cursed herself.
His other hand traced a line down her arm. She gritted her teeth against the urge to sigh with satisfaction. Someone stomped on the floor above her head and laughter roared through the whole place, a not-so-subtle reminder that a party was going on upstairs. But at this moment, the universe had shrunk to the two of them.
“Sure,” he said, his lips once again too close for comfort. His fingers grazed her skin, the touch zinging straight to her panties. She’d not had such a reaction to a man in years. She fought the urge to shove him away and run up the steps. Mainly because what she really wanted was for him to keep doing what he was doing.
“No need to be alarmed,” he said, backing away a fraction. “Wanted to make sure I paid my respects to the new queen of beer marketing before you left.”
“I suppose this is where I’m supposed to say something that sucks up to the emperor?”
She tried to move back, farther away, before his lips came closer.He smiled but took a few more steps back and leaned on the pool table where he’d been sitting. She mirrored him, taking a seat on an old barstool.
“Yeah, well….” He ran a hand down his face, his smile changing from slightly predatory to rueful. The concept that he might actually be unnerved nearly made her stifle a giggle.
“You know….” He patted the spot on the pool table next to him, indicating she should join him, but she stayed put. He shrugged. “The only thing I would have done differently?”
Jen frowned, already processing her mistakes according to the acknowledged marketing expert.
“More John Q. Beer Public in the place.”
“How in the hell could I have crammed another body in here?” She winced at her defensive tone.
“These guys have a third floor. You could have had your little media circus up there, then kept the entire first floor teeming with the beer geeks raving about your funky little project.”
Bastard was right. Word of mouth was the mantra she’d operated under for five years in this business. How did she overlook it for this important day?
“Shit,” she muttered.
“Then again, what do I know?” He pushed himself up off the table and took her hand. Still too pissed at herself, at the mistake she’d made, it took her a minute to realize he was touching her. Again.“I should—” He started, but seemed distracted all of a sudden. She fixated on his lips—sheer temptation, at once close and far away.“You should what?” Her voice came out barely a whisper to her own ears. The deadly quiet coiled between them, the muted sounds of footsteps and music a distant background to her breathing, which sounded rushed, desperate. “Yeah, well, you know, these things take a lot of planning and I—” She shut up before babbling any more nonsense to keep him from leaving, but he closed the gap between them, exactly like she figured he would, and ran a finger down her face. His thumb passed over her lips.
“Look,” she said, regaining some sense. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but—” She made a small noise of surprise when his lips took hers, smothering all words, thoughts, and logic. Soft, supple yet entirely in control, he tasted delicious, the distinct tang of Cheeky Blonde a ghostly presence on their tongues. She leaned back against the wall and nearly tripped over the empty keg behind her, but he reached out to brace them, curving her into his embrace.
Before she could speak, or protest, or do anything she knew she ought to do to get out of the situation, she reached out, tugged him closer, wrapped her arms around his neck, and met his kiss halfway. He made a sound deep in his throat and ran his hands down her back to her ass, pulling her against him. The sensation of falling down a deep well of forbidden desire forced a swirl of images and possibilities through her brain.
She pulled away, breaking the contact, hoping to get her head straight. He licked his way along her jaw and down her neck. Her sleeveless, low-cut summer shirt gave no resistance when his lips landed at the top of her breasts. When he maneuvered a hand around to open her bra clasp in one swift motion before he pulled the fabric aside to suck a rock hard nipple into his mouth, she groaned, tried to disentangle herself.
“Wait, Sean.” But even as she spoke, she threaded her fingers in his thick black hair. The spun silk sensation exactly as she’d imagined it. “The bathroom, what if…?”
“Had somebody take the sign down. Don’t worry.” He leaned in to nuzzle her exposed breasts. “I put it there to begin with, anyway.”She frowned. He’d arranged this whole scene, followed her downstairs, and had practically lain in wait for her. Now this was one for the diary. The master of the micro-brewing universe had sought her out and had his—she did gasp this time, as he kissed her with such intensity the room spun.
She kept her fingers in his hair and kissed him back. The spark ignited between them centered right in her damp panties. Hesitating about a second, enough time for her brain to remind her exactly what she was doing, Jen propped one foot up on the overturned keg at her feet.
“Mmm…” He mumbled around her lips, his erection a heated rod between them. She reached down, felt its heft under his zipper. She allowed herself a quick second to detach, to watch as the man who most people admired, feared, and hated for his success shoved a thigh between her legs, finally allowing her clit some much needed contact.
“Touch me,” she whispered, and closed her eyes as he shoved her poor excuse for a skirt up and dove inside her soaking panties. Teasing her swollen clit, he leaned in, bracing himself against the wall.
“Give me that nipple.” He growled. She yanked her shirt aside again and clapped her palm over her mouth to keep from moaning when he sucked hard and plunged two fingers inside her. She clutched his arm, angling her hips to give him room. He pressed deeper, keeping his thumb in contact with her engorged nub.
“Now kiss me like you mean it,” she whispered. He lifted his dark head from her breast. Holding her gaze, he pushed up higher, reaching that nerve bundle under her pubic bone, and her knees buckled. His deep midnight-blue gaze never left hers until the moment he obeyed and slanted his mouth over hers.
The orgasm roared up from her core. The vortex that had held her spun once again, making her bite her lip to keep from crying out.
OKAY KIDS: What was Sean's advice to Jen about the debut party?
Can't win if you don't answer the question!
Three Prizes To Win! The contest runs for a solid week....CheersLiz
Oh, and if you CAN'T wait for the giveaway....
Buy links:
ARe
Amazon
Decadent Publishing
Snashwords
July 4, 2012
What IS it About A One Night Stand?
Not sure....but I do know I like them so much, I wrote an entire trilogy of them! The Turkish Delights Series (or, more affectionately, "The Turks") tells the stories of a blended Turkish American family and how each sibling is affected by Madame Eve's magical dating service.
I WILL GIVE AWAY A COPY OF ONE OF "THE TURKS" TO ONE LUCKY COMMENTER. But you have to answer a question....it's at the bottom!
Here are a few excerpts:
Buy Turkish Delights Here.
“I miss you already,” Emre said, with his usual candor. “I can’t believe I just met you and now we must part.” He finished his tea and signaled the waiter for another. Before she could lean back, he reached over the tiny table and captured her hand, putting it to his mouth. Elle’s entire body zinged. His lips were gentle, soft but with a firmness that spoke of his potential talents with them. Exactly as she thought they would be, even if only pressed to her hand. She bit her lip, no longer caring what the gawkers around them thought, as she pressed her thighs together to ease the ache building between them.“I know.” Her voice was a whisper. “It’s been…nice getting to know you.” Lame, her brain screamed. Just kiss him, for crying out loud. You are the newly-named CEO of a major pharmaceutical company. You eat fear for breakfast. What the hell is your problem?She stood, pulling up her bag. Emre remained seated, staring at her.“I’m not what you think,” he said, as he stretched long legs out in front of him. Her face flushed with anger. Good. Now I’m on familiar ground. Mad at a man for assuming things about what I think.“Just what do I think, if you don’t mind sharing.” She used her coolest-cucumber voice, and it pleased her to see the young man frown. Anger she could cope with. Besotted was beyond her, especially since she felt the same damn way about this boy nearly fifteen years her junior.“Never mind.” He stood, towering over her even as she stood in her highest heels. “Let’s not fight. It’s our last day together, no?”The urge to run a finger down his strong, stubbled jaw was intense. She clenched her hands together so hard they hurt. He put a familiar arm around her shoulder, nearly bringing her to her knees with lust. The smell of his subtle cologne, mixed with the exotic manliness she’d come to associate with him in his element at his grandfather’s spice booth nearly sent her over the edge. She shut her eyes, leaning into his strong torso ever so slightly. Was it her imagination, or did he flinch? She drew away, ashamed at herself. “I should get back,” Gesturing in the general vicinity of where her car and driver waited, she gasped when Emre held her close then dropped to one knee right onto the cobblestones. Embarrassment and excitement fought for her brain. He took her hand, kissed it, held it to his heart.“You are the most amazing woman in the universe. It has been my honor to know you. I wish….” He blinked, and she used the opportunity to pull her hand away. “I just wish we’d known each other sooner.”It was Elle’s turn to blink. Realization rushed through her, heating her face. He knows damn good and well I’m a dried up specimen, too focused on my career to find and keep a man or sustain any relationship beyond the office. Fists clenched at her sides, she tried to calm her breathing. You are a fool, Ellery Kensington. He knows you’re a horny old lady. And he might oblige you between the sheets, but get the foolish romantic bullshit about spiriting him back to the States with you out of your head. That’s patent nonsense and you should know better. Finished with her self-lecture, she squared her shoulders and leaned in to press her lips to his jaw. Closing her eyes against the chemical reaction she had to him, she stepped away quickly.
From there I moved on to a little "man love" story with Caleb, Elle's personal assistant. He is already in love with Tarkan, Emre's twin brother by the time the Turkish Delights saga begins. But tragedy has struck. Click here for the buy link.Excerpt:
Caleb finished his two-hour workout by nine PM. and was sitting at the coffee bar, nursing an espresso when he locked eyes with one of the most attractive creatures on the planet. He’d seen the guy before. They worked out at about the same time most days, exchanging polite nods and “excuse me’s” as they completed a long weight circuit. He’d started looking forward to what he considered Extreme Turkish Eye Candy, of the straight variety it seemed, as the man was never without some equally gorgeous female hanging on his every word.He sighed and sipped, relishing the ache in his muscles from the workout. After two and a half years in Istanbul and intense language lessons paid for by the company, he had a good grip on the conversations swirling around him. He caught his fair share of “beautiful yellow hair American” and “sexy boy” from the ladies and smiled at them, for shits and giggles, aware of his affect while completely unaffected by them. But he was there now—the man Caleb had been admiring for weeks. And he was sitting near enough that Caleb could feel the heat of his skin and smell the shampoo in his damp hair. His skin prickled and he looked away.“Merhaba.”Caleb swallowed and answered back, in Turkish. They introduced themselves, shared a few pleasantries until the conversation got more complex than he could handle. The beautiful man’s accent when they switched to English rang in Caleb’s ears like a symphony. He gave himself a shake. Don’t be a sap. He’s straight, remember?“You are here every night, like me.”“Yes, my office is around the corner and it’s an easy stop before going home.”Caleb was mesmerized by the other man’s full lips and the extreme white of his teeth as he struck up conversations with every female who stopped by. They kept touching him, his hair, shoulders, arms. Caleb resisted a sigh of regret. “So,” Tarkan finally returned his focus to him. “I have a boat. Do you like boats?”“Uh...sure.” Caleb looked around, suddenly nervous. He’d been warned to keep his sexuality under wraps in this conservative country. He’d found some pretty high-end gay bars, and discovered the same men there every time he went. But he’d remained celibate for going on three years, unwilling to engage with anyone there, in spite of several extremely tempting occasions. His cock punched hard against the zipper of his jeans. It hurt like a bitch, but he shifted and smiled at his new friend. “I, um, love boats.”“Okay, Caleb, I’m having a party this weekend on mine. Leaving from the Asian side, this dock.” He flipped a business card onto the bar between them.Tarkan DenizBroker, JP Morgan Chase, Istanbul.On the back, he’d written a phone number and address. Caleb frowned into Tarkan’s dark chocolate gaze. Nothing in it spoke of intimacy closer than a couple of buddies on a boat likely full of women and booze. He sighed and stuck out his hand. The electric spark that passed between the two men made them both blink. “Pleased to meet you, Tarkan. I’ll let you know about this weekend. I have to check my schedule.” Caleb’s schedule was full of work, exercise, work, exercise with an occasional injection of more work. He knew he’d be going, if for no other reason than to watch Tarkan do whatever one did when one “had a boat.”The next night he dashed into the exclusive twentieth floor gym, gutted out seven miles on the treadmill, and tried not to stare too obviously, around for the other man’s dark face and body. After he’d toweled off and made his way toward the elaborate weight machines, he’d given up. The guy must not be coming tonight. It was Friday. He probably actually had a social life. After about an hour of arm work, Caleb prepared to call it quits. His boss had dumped a huge project on him and he knew he could get a head start tonight, if he went home now. A familiar laugh made him stop dead in his tracks. He whipped his head around, catching the spectacular rear view of the tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned Turk that was the star of his recent lonely fantasies. He took a deep breath and walked toward him.The man was flirting with some women, as usual, as they lay draped around the weight benches, mouths open with eagerness. He didn’t blame them. The guy was a vision. He could be a model. He touched Tarkan’s shoulder. The mega-watt smile and deep mocha eyes caught Caleb off guard. He grinned.“I’ll go,” he said simply, running a hand through his damp hair. The other man raised an eyebrow, as if questioning him. “I mean, I’ll join you. You know, on the boat. Sunday? Like we, ah, discussed?” He started to doubt his sanity. The guy looked positively confused. Then he nodded.“Ah, yes, you must be Caleb.”“Uh, yeah. We met, remember?” The other man’s musical laughter pealed out into the room, drawing attention to their conversation. He slapped a large hand on Caleb’s shoulder.“You are looking for my brother. Tarkan?”It was Caleb’s turn to be open mouthed. There were two of them?“Evet. Ne istyorsun kardesim?”Tarkan’s face appeared from behind a bank of free weights at the other end of the room. Caleb flushed and looked from one man to the other. They were scarily identical. He was willing to bet they’d used that to their advantage more than once if the impish grins on both handsome faces were any indication.The boat trip had only been the two of them, to his pleasant surprise. In the powerful fancy speedboat, Tarkan had torn away from the shore, one hand on the wheel, the other in the air waving to the dockworkers. Caleb sat and watched the man’s body, covered only in khaki shorts and a tee shirt, and tried to will his cock down from its compromising position of extreme hard, bordering on agonizing. They cruised down the shoreline slowly. Tarkan pointed out various historical views and regaled Caleb with stories of growing up with a proud Turkish father and stubborn American mother. By the time they reached a spot about an hour down the coast and had pulled into a dock that looked to be an historical relic on its own, Caleb was drunk with lust.
By the time you get to Tulip Princess, the tragedy has occurred, Elle and Emre are together and Lale (pronounced "Lah-Lay" which means beautiful tulip in Turkish) is about to make her parents insane. So they send her to live in California to help out with her niece, Ayla who is a bit of a kindred spirit to her wayward aunt. They bond immediately but Elle has a plan...to let Lale experience the magical 1NightStand for herself. Little does she know that her sister-in-law is in for a world-rocking experience with Andreas Michos, second generation Greek, former NFL star and Dom. Buy it here.A Nice Long Excerpt: Lale took a deep breath and walked to the table where he stood, holding out her chair. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes for some reason and sat. The moment he joined her, a plate of succulent fruits, nuts, olives, cheese and some smoked salmon appeared in front of them. Her wine glass got filled with something red and rich smelling. Lale blinked then looked up. Dear God, he is gorgeous. And something else…something dark, yet lovely… just out of reach…. “Cheers.” He lifted his glass. “Nice to meet you.” She raised hers, clinked his and took a sip. Realizing she had yet to speak, she cleared her throat, touched a soft napkin to her lips, stalled. “So, I guess I should know your name, otherwise you are going to be ‘the Greek’ to me all night.” Lale winced at herself. “I’m, um, Lale.” She held her hand out over the small table. He took it, and the electric spark that crawled up her arm to the base of her brain nearly made her moan. Sweat beaded her upper lip but the rest of her body shivered. She gulped as his huge hand engulfed hers. “Beautiful Tulip, eh? Nice. Very apt. You are lovely.” He let go. Lale frowned. He stayed quiet, munching on an olive, staring holes into her. She sipped more wine. The silence stretched out beyond anything resembling comfortable or even polite. “Okay then.” She reached out for an olive, popped it in her mouth and nearly choked on it. He stood and pounded her back. She grabbed water, mortified. After she regained her breath, he sat back down and motioned for the waiter without taking his eyes off her. “The lady will have the Circassian Chicken, no bread, with a spinach salad, hold the onions and blue cheese. I’ll have the osso buco, extra bread, no salad,” he ordered in textbook perfect French. Lale gaped at the man, amazed, pissed at his assumptions and suddenly starving at the thought of the chicken dish. Easily one of her favorites; she hadn’t had it since leaving Turkey. “How did you know I ….”He held up a hand. “Let me clarify this for you now, my dear. I like to be in control. I expect it, frankly.” He took a sip of wine. Lale’s core continued its dangerous meltdown. She had no idea what he meant, but something in her already responded in ways she couldn’t fathom. “I take pride in knowing what my, um, partner needs from me. I noticed you didn’t eat a bite of the cheese. I have some other Turkish friends—although I am loathe to admit it—who are lactose intolerant. I think it is common in your country, this digestive weakness.” “But—” Lale’s face burned and her temper rose to meet the lust that roiled through her, keeping her skin pebbled and her heart thudding. “I’m not finished.” His voice stayed low, firm, sexy. “Yes, I played football. In Miami. For seven years I hit the center of the opposing team as hard as I could, trying to get to the quarterback. I played this position well because I’d been the center in college at Arizona. After my third major concussion I retired.” He refilled Lale’s wine glass. She kept staring at him, transfixed by his face, his eyes, the soft cadence of his voice. “Yes, I have been married. My ex-wife started out as my sub, or my submissive, then transformed into a slave. Our relationship was very complex, exciting and as it turns out, a complete lie.” “Uh, your ‘slave’ did you say?” Lale’s face flushed again. If this Greek thought she had it in her to bow down and let herself be treated like shit by the hottest thing with a swinging dick she’d encountered in a while, he’d better think twice. He put a hand over hers. Lale stared at it as her pounding heart calmed and she could suddenly take a deep breath, seemingly at his touch. Dark hair dusted his bronzed skin. Her eyes travelled up the expanse of his light blue shirt, to the tie around his neck, noted his clenched jaw and came to rest on his shining green eyes. She had to cross her legs to keep from trembling. “Yes, I did. But once I left the NFL and moved here to take a job as the athletic director for UNLV, her real self emerged. Selfish, spoiled, suddenly immune to punishment, but I had let myself be weakened by her. I loved her, but she loved the limelight from being the wife of a big football star—and living in the desert didn’t appear on her to-do list, apparently.” Lale watched his throat as he swallowed his wine. He removed his hand from hers. She had never felt more abandoned, although the man still sat right across from her. She shivered. ”Until I came home early one day and saw my neighbor’s cock in her ass I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Some slaves are unredeemable, especially the ones who are merely posing for some sort of gain. So I dismissed her. In my lifestyle, that is more final than any legal statement of divorce. And my neighbor may be able to walk again by now.” “Wow, um that’s….” Lale pecked at her spinach salad. “Eat that. You need the iron.” She glanced up at him. “What, you’re a doctor too?” “No, I can tell. It’s my job.” Something like anger shot through her. “Look, Greek, you have no job as relates to me, okay? Just put that out of your head. I mean, you’re, ah, interesting and all, but I think there’s been some mistake.” “Do you?” Lale had to admit the spinach tasted good. She had never been the best eater and these last few days she had not ingested much more than granola bars, coffee, and alcohol. “Yeah, I do.” He stayed quiet a minute while she wolfed down the dark greens. “So you are perfectly happy with the men in your life?” “What men?” She dabbed at her lips again. “I mean, I am on a blind date with you, after all.” “What I mean is, I think you might be perfect for me. But I don’t know if I have the energy or inclination to make you understand that.” Lale sat back. What the hell did he mean? “I thought relationships were supposed to be fun, you know, not work that required a lot of energy. Just so you know, my brother met his wife through this little set up and one of my best friends found his new boyfriend thanks to this Madame Eve person as well.” The huge Greek hunk chuckled and removed a card from of his pocket, wrote something on the back, and pushed it across the table at her. She picked it up. Andreas Michos, Athletic Director The University of Nevada Las Vegas. She flipped it over. 4770 North Cumberland Drive, Summerlin She stared at him. “Gee, I thought we’d exchange email addresses first.” He leaned forward and held out his hands. Against her better judgment, she placed hers in them, trying not to flinch at the heat that passed from him straight to her lap. Her throat clenched, making it hard to swallow as she studied how small her hands seemed in his again, unable to meet his gaze.“Look at me now.” She lifted her eyes to his which blazed with intensity. “I want you, Lale. I wanted you last night. I want…more than you know. But I’m not sure you can handle what I have to offer. It’s a complex relationship between a Dom and a sub and I don’t know if you’re ready, although….” He stopped and shrugged, his face settling into noncommittal lines. Her face heated alarmingly. Rage surged through her brain and she yanked her hands out of his large, warm ones. “You know what, you have got to be the cockiest man on the planet. What makes you think I even want what you have to offer, hmm?” “You do. I can tell.”Lale pushed her chair back and stood. She had to get out of there. This Greek…Andreas… did something to her she had no frame of reference for. She needed air. She needed space. But at the same time she had to ball her hands into fists to keep from flinging herself into his strong arms. What the hell? Since when did she let someone dominate her? That was utter bullshit. He looked up at her, one dark eyebrow raised. “Your move, beautiful tulip. I’ve laid it out for you. Shall we finish our dinner? I think you should.” He gestured toward her chair, an eyebrow raised as if in question. She shut her eyes against the weird compulsion to obey him. To sit down and eat the meal that sat before her, tempting with the familiar smells of home. Slipping back into her seat, she took a bite and let the silence gather some force between them. “I am not interested in being anyone’s ‘slave’,” she finally said as casually as if she were discussing the weather. “So I guess this will be our first and last date.” The lovely man smiled and his face transformed once again into something she wouldn’t mind seeing every morning of her life, next to her on a pillow. “I know that. Believe me, I’ve been doing this long enough to spot a woman as capable as I am of being a Dom.”She tried not to smile back at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Greek.” She got a small bit of satisfaction at the frustration that passed over his strong features. “Lale, the Dom/sub relationship is not about anything but trust. Something tells me you don’t trust anyone. Not anymore. Am I right?” She blinked. “Maybe. What difference does that make?” “All the difference in the world to me. I want to be the man you trust—with everything. With your body, your safety, your very soul. That requires relinquishing an amount of control I’m not sure you’re capable of handing over….yet.” He motioned for the waiter to take away his empty plate. She hadn’t even registered he’d been eating. “So, perhaps you’re right. This should be our last encounter. We will only frustrate each other. Although…” He licked his upper lip, which sent Lale right over the edge. She grabbed her water glass and tried not to hold it to her flushed face. “The process would indeed be gratifying, that I promise you.” Lale had heard of women having an orgasm from the sound of a voice, without any physical contact. But until that moment had dismissed it as virginal bullshit—the stuff of overheated romance novels. But the dampness between her legs, and the quick second of bliss she had at his words proved otherwise. She had to get away from him before she did something ridiculous. “I think we should call it a night.” She stood, wobbly in her shoes. He joined her and her eyes were drawn directly to the huge lump under his zipper that he made no effort to hide. He took her arm and steered her toward the door. “You see the affect you have on me. I’ve nursed this hard on since you walked in the room, Lale. But I need more from you than the quick lay you would no doubt allow me.” She yanked her arm out of his grip. Her anger finally allowed her to speak. “Fuck off, asshole. Take your Master and slave bullshit and find yourself a brainless bimbo. This town has got to be full of them, hot for your bod, no?” He put his hands in pockets as they stood in the cavernous lobby. His gaze remained inscrutable. Lale glared at him, the twin compulsions to smack him and wrap her entire body around his and never let go warring in her brain. She took a deep breath.“Well, thanks for an interesting night,” she put out a hand to shake his. This is crazy. I need to go home, see my niece, take some control of my life. He took her hand, brought it to his lips, then suddenly tugged her close to put a possessive arm around her waist. Her body immediately responded. Trying to keep standing as her knees gave out, she kept her face averted. His lips brushed her ear, already familiar, his lilting voice filled her head. “You are not a slut, that’s not what I meant. You should treat yourself better. Take some pride in more than your appearance. You are strong and special. Don’t forget it.” She closed her eyes at the touch of his lips to her cheek then he released her. “Farewell, my beautiful Turk. My dead grandmother thanks you for blowing me off.” Lale wanted nothing more than to run her tongue over his crooked, ironic smile. Her body jangled with need for his touch again.“My very much alive, very Turkish brother and father feel the same way, Greek.” She took one step back, then turned and stalked over to the bank of elevators.
And Now: The QuestionWhat college does Andreas Michos work for?Happy Reading!www.lizcrowe.com
And hop on over to the other blogs today! there are tons of prizes to be won! Click here for the full list of prizes and links to the other hosts: http://www.markofthestars.com/wp/?pag...
I WILL GIVE AWAY A COPY OF ONE OF "THE TURKS" TO ONE LUCKY COMMENTER. But you have to answer a question....it's at the bottom!
Here are a few excerpts:
Buy Turkish Delights Here.“I miss you already,” Emre said, with his usual candor. “I can’t believe I just met you and now we must part.” He finished his tea and signaled the waiter for another. Before she could lean back, he reached over the tiny table and captured her hand, putting it to his mouth. Elle’s entire body zinged. His lips were gentle, soft but with a firmness that spoke of his potential talents with them. Exactly as she thought they would be, even if only pressed to her hand. She bit her lip, no longer caring what the gawkers around them thought, as she pressed her thighs together to ease the ache building between them.“I know.” Her voice was a whisper. “It’s been…nice getting to know you.” Lame, her brain screamed. Just kiss him, for crying out loud. You are the newly-named CEO of a major pharmaceutical company. You eat fear for breakfast. What the hell is your problem?She stood, pulling up her bag. Emre remained seated, staring at her.“I’m not what you think,” he said, as he stretched long legs out in front of him. Her face flushed with anger. Good. Now I’m on familiar ground. Mad at a man for assuming things about what I think.“Just what do I think, if you don’t mind sharing.” She used her coolest-cucumber voice, and it pleased her to see the young man frown. Anger she could cope with. Besotted was beyond her, especially since she felt the same damn way about this boy nearly fifteen years her junior.“Never mind.” He stood, towering over her even as she stood in her highest heels. “Let’s not fight. It’s our last day together, no?”The urge to run a finger down his strong, stubbled jaw was intense. She clenched her hands together so hard they hurt. He put a familiar arm around her shoulder, nearly bringing her to her knees with lust. The smell of his subtle cologne, mixed with the exotic manliness she’d come to associate with him in his element at his grandfather’s spice booth nearly sent her over the edge. She shut her eyes, leaning into his strong torso ever so slightly. Was it her imagination, or did he flinch? She drew away, ashamed at herself. “I should get back,” Gesturing in the general vicinity of where her car and driver waited, she gasped when Emre held her close then dropped to one knee right onto the cobblestones. Embarrassment and excitement fought for her brain. He took her hand, kissed it, held it to his heart.“You are the most amazing woman in the universe. It has been my honor to know you. I wish….” He blinked, and she used the opportunity to pull her hand away. “I just wish we’d known each other sooner.”It was Elle’s turn to blink. Realization rushed through her, heating her face. He knows damn good and well I’m a dried up specimen, too focused on my career to find and keep a man or sustain any relationship beyond the office. Fists clenched at her sides, she tried to calm her breathing. You are a fool, Ellery Kensington. He knows you’re a horny old lady. And he might oblige you between the sheets, but get the foolish romantic bullshit about spiriting him back to the States with you out of your head. That’s patent nonsense and you should know better. Finished with her self-lecture, she squared her shoulders and leaned in to press her lips to his jaw. Closing her eyes against the chemical reaction she had to him, she stepped away quickly.
From there I moved on to a little "man love" story with Caleb, Elle's personal assistant. He is already in love with Tarkan, Emre's twin brother by the time the Turkish Delights saga begins. But tragedy has struck. Click here for the buy link.Excerpt:Caleb finished his two-hour workout by nine PM. and was sitting at the coffee bar, nursing an espresso when he locked eyes with one of the most attractive creatures on the planet. He’d seen the guy before. They worked out at about the same time most days, exchanging polite nods and “excuse me’s” as they completed a long weight circuit. He’d started looking forward to what he considered Extreme Turkish Eye Candy, of the straight variety it seemed, as the man was never without some equally gorgeous female hanging on his every word.He sighed and sipped, relishing the ache in his muscles from the workout. After two and a half years in Istanbul and intense language lessons paid for by the company, he had a good grip on the conversations swirling around him. He caught his fair share of “beautiful yellow hair American” and “sexy boy” from the ladies and smiled at them, for shits and giggles, aware of his affect while completely unaffected by them. But he was there now—the man Caleb had been admiring for weeks. And he was sitting near enough that Caleb could feel the heat of his skin and smell the shampoo in his damp hair. His skin prickled and he looked away.“Merhaba.”Caleb swallowed and answered back, in Turkish. They introduced themselves, shared a few pleasantries until the conversation got more complex than he could handle. The beautiful man’s accent when they switched to English rang in Caleb’s ears like a symphony. He gave himself a shake. Don’t be a sap. He’s straight, remember?“You are here every night, like me.”“Yes, my office is around the corner and it’s an easy stop before going home.”Caleb was mesmerized by the other man’s full lips and the extreme white of his teeth as he struck up conversations with every female who stopped by. They kept touching him, his hair, shoulders, arms. Caleb resisted a sigh of regret. “So,” Tarkan finally returned his focus to him. “I have a boat. Do you like boats?”“Uh...sure.” Caleb looked around, suddenly nervous. He’d been warned to keep his sexuality under wraps in this conservative country. He’d found some pretty high-end gay bars, and discovered the same men there every time he went. But he’d remained celibate for going on three years, unwilling to engage with anyone there, in spite of several extremely tempting occasions. His cock punched hard against the zipper of his jeans. It hurt like a bitch, but he shifted and smiled at his new friend. “I, um, love boats.”“Okay, Caleb, I’m having a party this weekend on mine. Leaving from the Asian side, this dock.” He flipped a business card onto the bar between them.Tarkan DenizBroker, JP Morgan Chase, Istanbul.On the back, he’d written a phone number and address. Caleb frowned into Tarkan’s dark chocolate gaze. Nothing in it spoke of intimacy closer than a couple of buddies on a boat likely full of women and booze. He sighed and stuck out his hand. The electric spark that passed between the two men made them both blink. “Pleased to meet you, Tarkan. I’ll let you know about this weekend. I have to check my schedule.” Caleb’s schedule was full of work, exercise, work, exercise with an occasional injection of more work. He knew he’d be going, if for no other reason than to watch Tarkan do whatever one did when one “had a boat.”The next night he dashed into the exclusive twentieth floor gym, gutted out seven miles on the treadmill, and tried not to stare too obviously, around for the other man’s dark face and body. After he’d toweled off and made his way toward the elaborate weight machines, he’d given up. The guy must not be coming tonight. It was Friday. He probably actually had a social life. After about an hour of arm work, Caleb prepared to call it quits. His boss had dumped a huge project on him and he knew he could get a head start tonight, if he went home now. A familiar laugh made him stop dead in his tracks. He whipped his head around, catching the spectacular rear view of the tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned Turk that was the star of his recent lonely fantasies. He took a deep breath and walked toward him.The man was flirting with some women, as usual, as they lay draped around the weight benches, mouths open with eagerness. He didn’t blame them. The guy was a vision. He could be a model. He touched Tarkan’s shoulder. The mega-watt smile and deep mocha eyes caught Caleb off guard. He grinned.“I’ll go,” he said simply, running a hand through his damp hair. The other man raised an eyebrow, as if questioning him. “I mean, I’ll join you. You know, on the boat. Sunday? Like we, ah, discussed?” He started to doubt his sanity. The guy looked positively confused. Then he nodded.“Ah, yes, you must be Caleb.”“Uh, yeah. We met, remember?” The other man’s musical laughter pealed out into the room, drawing attention to their conversation. He slapped a large hand on Caleb’s shoulder.“You are looking for my brother. Tarkan?”It was Caleb’s turn to be open mouthed. There were two of them?“Evet. Ne istyorsun kardesim?”Tarkan’s face appeared from behind a bank of free weights at the other end of the room. Caleb flushed and looked from one man to the other. They were scarily identical. He was willing to bet they’d used that to their advantage more than once if the impish grins on both handsome faces were any indication.The boat trip had only been the two of them, to his pleasant surprise. In the powerful fancy speedboat, Tarkan had torn away from the shore, one hand on the wheel, the other in the air waving to the dockworkers. Caleb sat and watched the man’s body, covered only in khaki shorts and a tee shirt, and tried to will his cock down from its compromising position of extreme hard, bordering on agonizing. They cruised down the shoreline slowly. Tarkan pointed out various historical views and regaled Caleb with stories of growing up with a proud Turkish father and stubborn American mother. By the time they reached a spot about an hour down the coast and had pulled into a dock that looked to be an historical relic on its own, Caleb was drunk with lust.
By the time you get to Tulip Princess, the tragedy has occurred, Elle and Emre are together and Lale (pronounced "Lah-Lay" which means beautiful tulip in Turkish) is about to make her parents insane. So they send her to live in California to help out with her niece, Ayla who is a bit of a kindred spirit to her wayward aunt. They bond immediately but Elle has a plan...to let Lale experience the magical 1NightStand for herself. Little does she know that her sister-in-law is in for a world-rocking experience with Andreas Michos, second generation Greek, former NFL star and Dom. Buy it here.A Nice Long Excerpt: Lale took a deep breath and walked to the table where he stood, holding out her chair. She looked down, unable to meet his eyes for some reason and sat. The moment he joined her, a plate of succulent fruits, nuts, olives, cheese and some smoked salmon appeared in front of them. Her wine glass got filled with something red and rich smelling. Lale blinked then looked up. Dear God, he is gorgeous. And something else…something dark, yet lovely… just out of reach…. “Cheers.” He lifted his glass. “Nice to meet you.” She raised hers, clinked his and took a sip. Realizing she had yet to speak, she cleared her throat, touched a soft napkin to her lips, stalled. “So, I guess I should know your name, otherwise you are going to be ‘the Greek’ to me all night.” Lale winced at herself. “I’m, um, Lale.” She held her hand out over the small table. He took it, and the electric spark that crawled up her arm to the base of her brain nearly made her moan. Sweat beaded her upper lip but the rest of her body shivered. She gulped as his huge hand engulfed hers. “Beautiful Tulip, eh? Nice. Very apt. You are lovely.” He let go. Lale frowned. He stayed quiet, munching on an olive, staring holes into her. She sipped more wine. The silence stretched out beyond anything resembling comfortable or even polite. “Okay then.” She reached out for an olive, popped it in her mouth and nearly choked on it. He stood and pounded her back. She grabbed water, mortified. After she regained her breath, he sat back down and motioned for the waiter without taking his eyes off her. “The lady will have the Circassian Chicken, no bread, with a spinach salad, hold the onions and blue cheese. I’ll have the osso buco, extra bread, no salad,” he ordered in textbook perfect French. Lale gaped at the man, amazed, pissed at his assumptions and suddenly starving at the thought of the chicken dish. Easily one of her favorites; she hadn’t had it since leaving Turkey. “How did you know I ….”He held up a hand. “Let me clarify this for you now, my dear. I like to be in control. I expect it, frankly.” He took a sip of wine. Lale’s core continued its dangerous meltdown. She had no idea what he meant, but something in her already responded in ways she couldn’t fathom. “I take pride in knowing what my, um, partner needs from me. I noticed you didn’t eat a bite of the cheese. I have some other Turkish friends—although I am loathe to admit it—who are lactose intolerant. I think it is common in your country, this digestive weakness.” “But—” Lale’s face burned and her temper rose to meet the lust that roiled through her, keeping her skin pebbled and her heart thudding. “I’m not finished.” His voice stayed low, firm, sexy. “Yes, I played football. In Miami. For seven years I hit the center of the opposing team as hard as I could, trying to get to the quarterback. I played this position well because I’d been the center in college at Arizona. After my third major concussion I retired.” He refilled Lale’s wine glass. She kept staring at him, transfixed by his face, his eyes, the soft cadence of his voice. “Yes, I have been married. My ex-wife started out as my sub, or my submissive, then transformed into a slave. Our relationship was very complex, exciting and as it turns out, a complete lie.” “Uh, your ‘slave’ did you say?” Lale’s face flushed again. If this Greek thought she had it in her to bow down and let herself be treated like shit by the hottest thing with a swinging dick she’d encountered in a while, he’d better think twice. He put a hand over hers. Lale stared at it as her pounding heart calmed and she could suddenly take a deep breath, seemingly at his touch. Dark hair dusted his bronzed skin. Her eyes travelled up the expanse of his light blue shirt, to the tie around his neck, noted his clenched jaw and came to rest on his shining green eyes. She had to cross her legs to keep from trembling. “Yes, I did. But once I left the NFL and moved here to take a job as the athletic director for UNLV, her real self emerged. Selfish, spoiled, suddenly immune to punishment, but I had let myself be weakened by her. I loved her, but she loved the limelight from being the wife of a big football star—and living in the desert didn’t appear on her to-do list, apparently.” Lale watched his throat as he swallowed his wine. He removed his hand from hers. She had never felt more abandoned, although the man still sat right across from her. She shivered. ”Until I came home early one day and saw my neighbor’s cock in her ass I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Some slaves are unredeemable, especially the ones who are merely posing for some sort of gain. So I dismissed her. In my lifestyle, that is more final than any legal statement of divorce. And my neighbor may be able to walk again by now.” “Wow, um that’s….” Lale pecked at her spinach salad. “Eat that. You need the iron.” She glanced up at him. “What, you’re a doctor too?” “No, I can tell. It’s my job.” Something like anger shot through her. “Look, Greek, you have no job as relates to me, okay? Just put that out of your head. I mean, you’re, ah, interesting and all, but I think there’s been some mistake.” “Do you?” Lale had to admit the spinach tasted good. She had never been the best eater and these last few days she had not ingested much more than granola bars, coffee, and alcohol. “Yeah, I do.” He stayed quiet a minute while she wolfed down the dark greens. “So you are perfectly happy with the men in your life?” “What men?” She dabbed at her lips again. “I mean, I am on a blind date with you, after all.” “What I mean is, I think you might be perfect for me. But I don’t know if I have the energy or inclination to make you understand that.” Lale sat back. What the hell did he mean? “I thought relationships were supposed to be fun, you know, not work that required a lot of energy. Just so you know, my brother met his wife through this little set up and one of my best friends found his new boyfriend thanks to this Madame Eve person as well.” The huge Greek hunk chuckled and removed a card from of his pocket, wrote something on the back, and pushed it across the table at her. She picked it up. Andreas Michos, Athletic Director The University of Nevada Las Vegas. She flipped it over. 4770 North Cumberland Drive, Summerlin She stared at him. “Gee, I thought we’d exchange email addresses first.” He leaned forward and held out his hands. Against her better judgment, she placed hers in them, trying not to flinch at the heat that passed from him straight to her lap. Her throat clenched, making it hard to swallow as she studied how small her hands seemed in his again, unable to meet his gaze.“Look at me now.” She lifted her eyes to his which blazed with intensity. “I want you, Lale. I wanted you last night. I want…more than you know. But I’m not sure you can handle what I have to offer. It’s a complex relationship between a Dom and a sub and I don’t know if you’re ready, although….” He stopped and shrugged, his face settling into noncommittal lines. Her face heated alarmingly. Rage surged through her brain and she yanked her hands out of his large, warm ones. “You know what, you have got to be the cockiest man on the planet. What makes you think I even want what you have to offer, hmm?” “You do. I can tell.”Lale pushed her chair back and stood. She had to get out of there. This Greek…Andreas… did something to her she had no frame of reference for. She needed air. She needed space. But at the same time she had to ball her hands into fists to keep from flinging herself into his strong arms. What the hell? Since when did she let someone dominate her? That was utter bullshit. He looked up at her, one dark eyebrow raised. “Your move, beautiful tulip. I’ve laid it out for you. Shall we finish our dinner? I think you should.” He gestured toward her chair, an eyebrow raised as if in question. She shut her eyes against the weird compulsion to obey him. To sit down and eat the meal that sat before her, tempting with the familiar smells of home. Slipping back into her seat, she took a bite and let the silence gather some force between them. “I am not interested in being anyone’s ‘slave’,” she finally said as casually as if she were discussing the weather. “So I guess this will be our first and last date.” The lovely man smiled and his face transformed once again into something she wouldn’t mind seeing every morning of her life, next to her on a pillow. “I know that. Believe me, I’ve been doing this long enough to spot a woman as capable as I am of being a Dom.”She tried not to smile back at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Greek.” She got a small bit of satisfaction at the frustration that passed over his strong features. “Lale, the Dom/sub relationship is not about anything but trust. Something tells me you don’t trust anyone. Not anymore. Am I right?” She blinked. “Maybe. What difference does that make?” “All the difference in the world to me. I want to be the man you trust—with everything. With your body, your safety, your very soul. That requires relinquishing an amount of control I’m not sure you’re capable of handing over….yet.” He motioned for the waiter to take away his empty plate. She hadn’t even registered he’d been eating. “So, perhaps you’re right. This should be our last encounter. We will only frustrate each other. Although…” He licked his upper lip, which sent Lale right over the edge. She grabbed her water glass and tried not to hold it to her flushed face. “The process would indeed be gratifying, that I promise you.” Lale had heard of women having an orgasm from the sound of a voice, without any physical contact. But until that moment had dismissed it as virginal bullshit—the stuff of overheated romance novels. But the dampness between her legs, and the quick second of bliss she had at his words proved otherwise. She had to get away from him before she did something ridiculous. “I think we should call it a night.” She stood, wobbly in her shoes. He joined her and her eyes were drawn directly to the huge lump under his zipper that he made no effort to hide. He took her arm and steered her toward the door. “You see the affect you have on me. I’ve nursed this hard on since you walked in the room, Lale. But I need more from you than the quick lay you would no doubt allow me.” She yanked her arm out of his grip. Her anger finally allowed her to speak. “Fuck off, asshole. Take your Master and slave bullshit and find yourself a brainless bimbo. This town has got to be full of them, hot for your bod, no?” He put his hands in pockets as they stood in the cavernous lobby. His gaze remained inscrutable. Lale glared at him, the twin compulsions to smack him and wrap her entire body around his and never let go warring in her brain. She took a deep breath.“Well, thanks for an interesting night,” she put out a hand to shake his. This is crazy. I need to go home, see my niece, take some control of my life. He took her hand, brought it to his lips, then suddenly tugged her close to put a possessive arm around her waist. Her body immediately responded. Trying to keep standing as her knees gave out, she kept her face averted. His lips brushed her ear, already familiar, his lilting voice filled her head. “You are not a slut, that’s not what I meant. You should treat yourself better. Take some pride in more than your appearance. You are strong and special. Don’t forget it.” She closed her eyes at the touch of his lips to her cheek then he released her. “Farewell, my beautiful Turk. My dead grandmother thanks you for blowing me off.” Lale wanted nothing more than to run her tongue over his crooked, ironic smile. Her body jangled with need for his touch again.“My very much alive, very Turkish brother and father feel the same way, Greek.” She took one step back, then turned and stalked over to the bank of elevators.And Now: The QuestionWhat college does Andreas Michos work for?Happy Reading!www.lizcrowe.com
And hop on over to the other blogs today! there are tons of prizes to be won! Click here for the full list of prizes and links to the other hosts: http://www.markofthestars.com/wp/?pag...
July 1, 2012
The In Between Days Blues
Ok, I'll admit it, I'm a little stuck. I know, I know, I've claimed that "writer's block" is not something I get afflicted with much at all. That I can just "walk away" from a project and return to it in my own sweet time without causing myself or my (still pouting because Germany lost) beloved Hans the Muse any undue stress.
But I literally sat down this weekend to work on the next big Stewart Realty novel, Escalation Clause and froze like the proverbial deer in the headlights.
No problem, I said to myself. "Self," I said, "just walk away, do something else, do a little more head writing. All will be well."
So I did, and thought I had come up with the killer segue but...I sat staring at the empty screen/blinking cursor so long it seared into my retinas, I swear it (but the image of Alex Pettyfer stripping shoved it aside in due time.)
I went to see Magic Mike. I got duly hot and bothered and even more obsessed with Mr. Pettyfer (who, by the way is The Perfect Craig Robinson from the series). Let the songs from the movie roll around in my head for a solid day. Then tried again.
No dice.
A mild panic flared in my chest. But I took a Tums and ignored it.
And now, I can assure all you breathlessly waiting folks who are dying for that next Big Installment of our favorite saga about our favorite alpha male and the people who love him---thanks to Bikram Yoga. I am officially UnStuck.
Mainly because thanks to impending menopause, I am afflicted/beset/tortured by hot flashes. "no problem" yon scrawny 20-something year old bikram yoga instructor chirps to me at 7 a.m. today. "doing this will balance all that out." I glared at her. But entered the room anyway. And was able to complete not quite half of the 26 poses in the 110 degree/50% humid room without running out. All that time I spent Really Nailing my Savasana (the resting pose) and staring at the ceiling tiles gave me the epiphany I needed.
I'll be buried in this project for a while, but it's gonna be a GREAT book.
Thanks Yoga. Or better yet, thanks scrawny bitch at the front of the room who has no cellulite, no kids and no idea what additional torture I am enduring thanks to the fact that I am a woman In Her Late Forties.
Have a GREAT holiday! I'm participating in the Decadent Publishing 1NightStand hop on the 5th be sure and check us out!here is a link to the group of bloggers/writers you can visit that day.http://www.markofthestars.com/wp/?page_id=10037
But I literally sat down this weekend to work on the next big Stewart Realty novel, Escalation Clause and froze like the proverbial deer in the headlights.
No problem, I said to myself. "Self," I said, "just walk away, do something else, do a little more head writing. All will be well."
So I did, and thought I had come up with the killer segue but...I sat staring at the empty screen/blinking cursor so long it seared into my retinas, I swear it (but the image of Alex Pettyfer stripping shoved it aside in due time.)
I went to see Magic Mike. I got duly hot and bothered and even more obsessed with Mr. Pettyfer (who, by the way is The Perfect Craig Robinson from the series). Let the songs from the movie roll around in my head for a solid day. Then tried again.
No dice.
A mild panic flared in my chest. But I took a Tums and ignored it.
And now, I can assure all you breathlessly waiting folks who are dying for that next Big Installment of our favorite saga about our favorite alpha male and the people who love him---thanks to Bikram Yoga. I am officially UnStuck.
Mainly because thanks to impending menopause, I am afflicted/beset/tortured by hot flashes. "no problem" yon scrawny 20-something year old bikram yoga instructor chirps to me at 7 a.m. today. "doing this will balance all that out." I glared at her. But entered the room anyway. And was able to complete not quite half of the 26 poses in the 110 degree/50% humid room without running out. All that time I spent Really Nailing my Savasana (the resting pose) and staring at the ceiling tiles gave me the epiphany I needed.
I'll be buried in this project for a while, but it's gonna be a GREAT book.
Thanks Yoga. Or better yet, thanks scrawny bitch at the front of the room who has no cellulite, no kids and no idea what additional torture I am enduring thanks to the fact that I am a woman In Her Late Forties.
Have a GREAT holiday! I'm participating in the Decadent Publishing 1NightStand hop on the 5th be sure and check us out!here is a link to the group of bloggers/writers you can visit that day.http://www.markofthestars.com/wp/?page_id=10037
