Liz Crowe's Blog, page 35

Across the Beer Bar with Liz and Charlene Roberts!

Welcome to my Beer Bar Charlene! what can I pour you to start? (feel free to say whatever here but be prepared for a roast if it isn't beer!)
Well let's see--I have to admit that my favourite drink is Rum and Coke (I can't help that; I'm from the islands), but I will enjoy a Corona, please, thank you!
Smacks forehead...bounces head on desk...I make beer here.  It's BETTER than any of that watered down pseudo-Mexican crap...trust me.  Here (passes a Wolverine Premium lager across the bar). Drink. 
First and foremost, I want to know about the HOT TRAINER...details...lots of them please. and how the training itself is going.
Lol!! Nate is a wonderful trainer. I met him about 6-7 years ago (my gosh, where has the time gone?) At a gym I had joined. Unfortunately the gym closed, and I became one of his personal clients. We worked together for a couple of years until he was given the opportunity to run his own corporate wellness centre. But it was too far away for me to continue working with him. After about a year of training with other trainers, I decided to go back with Nate, but I had to do it via online training--sigh, it just isn't the same.
And as for the training, I have to admit it's been hard getting back into it. After taking a break I started up again in late November, but with the Christmas season here, I can't seem to ignore the treats. Bad me, I know. And here I want to compete in a fitness competition! Pretty hard to do when I want to eat Christmas cookies, brownies and all that other good stuff.
My trainer is also a Harlequin model. Here are a couple of his covers so you can get a good look at him.
 AIYEEEEEEEEE!  What the F$#@? a Harlequin model was your trainer and you let him get away?  REVOKES LADY CARD.  Seriously.  wow.  lucky girl.  I had a trainer for a while.  He was tres hot.  I did whatever he wanted just to get to the "ham string stretching" he indulged me with every time.  
What was the first book you had published?
My first book was Under Cover of Night, published in 2009. I had originally written it for Ellora's Cave's Horoscope Gem Series. September was sapphires, so I wrote my story based on that. The email from Ellora's Cave came through when I was at work and checking my personal emails during my lunch. When I saw the email I thought "Oh great another rejection", but then I read through it and it was an offer for a contract! The first person I called was my best friend, who screamed over the phone for me, since I couldn't do it without attracting my colleagues' attention. Lol
Then I found out later that my story was going to be a standalone book instead of being part of the anthology. Even better!
I'll spare you how much I want Ellora's Cave to pick up something of mine....still trying!
I'm very intrigued by A Gentleman's Savior.  Tell us how much a part art plays in your books.
AGS was part of EC's "Art of Love" series. I never had the idea of writing about art; it was just coincidental that the two stories I've published involved art. I like challenges, and the story had to be finished by a certain date and time. I pushed it right to the edge.
The story left an opening for a sequel, which I'm working on now. I'm hoping to finish it by the end of January.
Oops, empty glass! what's next?
I think I'm going to have my rum and coke.WRONG ANSWER. Here, drink this baltic porter: a rich, clean finishing roasty, kinda chocolate brew. Trust Me. I'm a Beer Wench.
What's in the WIP file for you?
Other than the sequel, I started the preliminary work on the third manuscript, so I'm hoping to make this a trilogy. I'm also working on a werewolf story that's half done and an erotic comedy. I'm also editing a Viking erotica manuscript with the goal of submitting it in January. Too many ideas, and not enough writing time.
What's on your bedside table--you know to READ?
A sci-fi series from Michelle Sagara called the Chronicles of Elantra. I'm on Book Four of the series.
Give us one sentence of advice for aspiring writers.
May I give two?1.     Don't give up--persistence does pay off.2.     Never stop learning. Enjoy it.
Okay nightcap time...what's your poison?
Ha! Baileys straight up! Thanks for inviting me Liz :)Oy.  Seriously. No.  Here, try the last of our bourbon barrel aged Oktoberfest.  Nectar in a glass. Now, give us some samples of your work!


BLURB from A Gentlemen's Savior:

When Stephanie's art teacher issues a challenge—create a painting based only on the torso of a human sculpture—she decides to paint a Regency lord. But with his muscular body, longer hair and a few well-placed scars, Stephanie's lord is definitely no Regency dandy. Her best work ever, the painting stirs an obsession Stephanie can't explain. Not content to wait for the next class, she visits the art center, just to get a peek at her lord. She touches the painting…
And suddenly finds herself in a bedroom in 1817 London, her lord standing behind her—very real, very naked and very ready to end Stephanie's sexual dry spell.
Before she can say "ton", Stephanie's indulging her desires with Gabriel, dressing in the height of Regency fashion and meeting the Prince Regent. But life in 1817 isn't all tea and crumpets. Stephanie soon learns she's reliving her past life—one that ended tragically. Thrust in the middle of a sinister plot, she must save the prince, save Gabriel…and if she's luckier this time around, save herself.
A Gentleman's Savior: http://www.jasminejade.com/p-8556-a-gentlemans-savior.aspx

EXCERPT from A Gentlemen's Savior:
On Friday, Stephanie decided to go straight to the community center after work. The thought of not seeing her Regency lord until Wednesday bugged the shit out of her. She needed a visual dose of his taut, muscular body to keep her fantasies running strong over the weekend. At the center, Stephanie hurried inside, the silence in the building eerie. There was always something going on at the center, but since it was after hours, the hallways now stood empty. The classroom doors were all closed and the early evening twilight lengthened the shadows in the long, narrow corridor.Stephanie walked quickly, her heels clicking with swift purpose. If she couldn't find the janitor before he left for the weekend… She shook her head. It wasn't the end of the world for Christ's sake! It was only a painting, after all.A movement ahead and to her right caught her attention."Excuse me?" Stephanie called out, seeing the familiar blue coveralls. "I was wondering if you could help me."The old gentleman stopped and turned to look at her. "What is it?"It wouldn't be easy getting him to unlock the door. She would need to come up with a good reason. "I'm one of Leila Rowe's evening art students. I can't find my paintbrushes and I think I may have left them in the storeroom."The janitor sighed, rolling his eyes heavenward. "Come on." He led the way to the storeroom and pulled out a large ring of keys, taking his time selecting one. "You artsy folk can be a pain sometimes.""I beg your pardon? What are you talking about?" Stephanie demanded, standing aside as he swung the door open and flicked on the overhead light."I'm talking about your weird requests. In the fifteen years I've worked for the center, the Adults Arts Program is the strangest.""In what way?""I've seen my share of people just like you, coming in here at weird hours, asking for me to open the storeroom door so they can stare at their masterpieces.""What's wrong with that?""They always forget to turn off the light and latch the door so it locks behind them, that's what's wrong! I can't be standing here watching them 'ooh' and 'aah' over their paintings." He made a limp gesture with one hand.Stephanie managed to keep a straight face. "I'm only here to find what I want.""You'll remember to turn off the light and lock the door behind you?""I promise."The old man nodded and walked off.Stephanie walked in and shut the door behind her. Five easels stood in a row at the back of the storeroom, the paintings covered with sheets to protect them from prying eyes and careless fingers.She moved forward, not knowing which one was hers, and yet she walked purposefully toward the last easel to her right, partially cast in shadow. Lifting the sheet, Stephanie gazed at her naked hero, feeling the rush of pride and slight embarrassment as she stared at his body.His gaze almost seemed to beckon her to reach out and touch his warm skin, to kiss the full lips curved slightly upward with a mysterious smile, to grasp his cock in both hands and feel its silky skin glide over her fingers.Stephanie let out a small gasp—she hadn't realized she was holding her breath. Reaching out with one finger, she grazed her lord's cheek ever so slightly…
*****London, England, 1817Friday evening
"My love," murmured a low voice.Stephanie stood absolutely still, waiting until her eyesight adjusted to the dimness. She stood in front of a mirror and saw her wide, frightened gaze staring back at her but nothing else. "Who's there?" she whispered.A low, sensuous chuckle. "Oh, I think you know," said a deep voice. "You enticed me back to the house, remember?"A slight scraping of metal on metal and a flame grew brighter in an oil lamp. In the mirror's reflection, Stephanie gasped as a naked man stood behind her, his skin gleaming in the lamp's warm glow.As she slowly looked at the reflection of a four-poster bed, the man's clothes strewn across the floor, she felt a nauseating lump grow in her stomach.Stephanie could just glimpse a dark moustache and beard, trimmed to accent the man's sharp cheekbones. Long, dark hair, slightly disheveled, covered his shoulders. As for the rest of him—she knew what to expect, but still experienced the heated flush that overwhelmed her face as she took in the full sight of hard, muscular flesh. She couldn't see his eyes but she knew their color—the color of the lush green grass she had painted weeks earlier in her landscape painting.Stephanie closed her eyes, believing it was all a dream."Is something amiss?"She shook her head, opening her eyes. "No, I'm fine." And taking a deep breath, Stephanie turned around.His stance, the way he looked at her with that smile…His eyes.It was true.She was inside her painting!


BLURB Under Cover of Night:


RCMP Lieutenant Emma Parris, a former jewel thief, loves nothing more than the thrill of the chase. And the international jewel smuggler known as "The Broker" proves to be fascinating prey. But she isn't prepared for Gerard McIver, The Broker's devilishly handsome right-hand man, whose boyish smile and hot, muscular body may prove too much for Emma's sense of justice.Gerard knows that Emma Parris is more than just an innocent, naïve tourist. But he's torn between uncovering the truth, and uncovering Emma's delectable body…
Under Cover of Night - http://www.jasminejade.com/p-7337-under-cover-of-night.aspxEXCERPT Under Cover of Night: As Emma started to dance, Gerard felt heat prickle his skin. She's going to do a striptease, he thought in wonder. His cock swelled swiftly at the image, and he reached down to adjust himself."No touching.""But darling, I can't—""I can stop if you can't handle one simple rule."Gerard jerked his hands away. "I'm all yours.""Good." She continued her dance, her hips swaying in time to the slow beat, her arms gently rising and falling. Now and again, she'd suggestively touch her body—rubbing her hands across her breasts, spanking her ass or using her finger to trace an outline around her pussy.He sat transfixed as Emma sashayed across the floor, tempting him with peeks of smooth flesh as she flashed a shoulder here, her waist there. She would gaze at him coyly over her shoulder as she turned, or move so seductively close that he would unconsciously reach for her, only to grab air as she danced away, her laugh low and sexy.Her shirt inched up, her stomach taut and the color of café au lait, and Gerard suddenly realized that he had never seen Emma completely naked.With one smooth pull, she had the shirt off and tossed it to him. He caught it. He raised the material to his nose, inhaling her fresh scent, while he kept his gaze glued on the full breasts barely contained in the lacy coral bra, the nipples just peeking over the edge.Emma moved towards him, her hands massaging over her globes, her fingers dipping into the generous cleavage. "Like what you see so far?" she asked.Gerard tossed her shirt aside and lunged for her, but she jumped back, laughing. "Don't be impatient," she scolded, wagging her finger at him. "The best part is yet to come.""Fine," he growled, sitting back. "Get on with it.""Hmm, someone's grumpy."He deliberately let his eyes travel over her until she started to fidget under his intent stare. "I want my dessert."The sneakers came off next. By this time, the storm was in force, and Gerard rose to shut the windows against its onslaught. He tried to pass Emma, but she figured out his plan, keeping her distance until he returned to the sofa.The sound of the rain pattering against the windows was a romantic counterpart to the music flowing from the radio and although his lust felt as sharp as a knife, Gerard managed to relax further into the sofa, watching as Emma hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her fitted pants. With slow, deliberate movements, she eased one side down, then the other, until the material pooled at her feet. She gracefully stepped out of them, kicking them aside, and allowing Gerard to fully appreciate the lush body that stood before him.Her lingerie was a matched set, the color glowing against the candlelight. As she turned, he drew in a sharp breath, his hands clenching into tight sweaty fists. The panties were high-cut, only covering half of her tight ass as she wriggled."What do you think of my underwear?" she asked matter-of-factly. She actually twirled in front of him. "Do you like the color?""I—" Gerard couldn't speak. All he could think of was getting his hands on her, but it wasn't going to be easy, if she had her way. "It's very pretty," he managed to say, sounding like an idiot.But Emma seemed pleased. "I never get the chance to show off my girly things," she said.Gerard wanted to see all of her girly things.

Buy It Here:  

It's My Birthday Week. We've Got a Soccer Theme. You Get the PREZZIE

On Friday, 12/16 it shall be Birthday Eve for yours truly.


To thank all you amazing readers, followers, fans and even you lurkers, I'm gonna give you a PRIZE...yes, a good one.


A $25 gift card to Amazon!


Why? Well, because I wanna share a little taste of my upcoming release from Decadent Publishing:
Caught Offside is a hot, fun, sweet story (well not sweet exactly but you get me).  
I'm gonna tease you kids with 2 excerpts. One a little tamer than the other.  


On Friday, 12/16 I'll ask one question here, on the Brewing Passion blog.  I need ONE correct answer.  Just one.  And I'll random.org-a-fy (funny that looks like "orgy-fy") one winner.  You can get MY ENTIRE backlist on Amazon with that $25.  Just sayin'.




BLURB

Ramon Castillo, world famous soccer player and international playboy has been brought low by a career-ending injury.  After the humiliation of a shattered knee and shin at the World Cup final he has spent year in surgeries and painful therapies, the last three months of which are at the Castillo resort in Las Vegas under the watchful eye of his cousin Jackson.  Ramon has lost interest in anything other than the black jack tables now that he will likely never play his beloved sport again.

Gillian Winter, catering  manager for the MGM Grand Hotel, and former US National Women's team goalie, is nurturing her own deep wounds.  Her husband has died unexpectedly, leaving her with a young son whose one dream is to meet his hero--Number 17--Ramon Castillo.  When a chance encounter in the lobby of the MGM reveals Ramon's presence in their midst, everyone's lives are changed forever.   Is healing possible for Ramon and Gillian after just One Night?
Excerpt #1:SETUP: Ramon's cousin Jackson Castillo (a well-known dude if you are familiar with the 1NightStand series) has hit on an idea to get his injured cousin and his friend Gillian together.  
 "You told her what?" Ramon stared at his cousin in disbelief.  "That you would be meeting her and her son at noon at Soccer Plus." "And what the fuck am I supposed to do with them there?" He protested while his body began reacting to the thought of being that close to the gorgeous red head from the MGM lobby. But Jackson had no right to do this. He'd sworn off soccer. All that ridiculous time, energy, money spent, only to get cut down in your prime by a random bullshit event. He turned and started to walk out of Jackson's office. The hour-long massage had loosened his leg, but his head started to pound at the latest turn of events.  "You will do this. Not because you owe me or anything. But because I've just made it a condition of your stay here."He gripped the doorknob. Yes, he owed his entire life to the Castillo clan. Born to a drug-addicted prostitute and left to languish in a Cuban-American neighborhood welfare hospital, he'd been adopted by the Castillo family, and Jackson in particular had taken an early interest in the boy's natural athletic abilities. He'd paid for his early training in the lily-white suburbs, amongst the wealthy soccer moms with their shiny SUVs. The rest could be called soccer history, including this latest ignominious chapter. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, not turning back to face the man at the desk.  "Okay—but just once. And I am not doing this for her or that kid. I'm doing it for you." "That's fine. But I assure you that you may have met your match with Gillian Winter." Suddenly curious in spite of his irritation, he turned. Jackson leaned back in his chair, shiny dress shoes propped on the huge walnut expanse of a desk, one eyebrow cocked. "Gillian Winter…." He had a sudden flash of realization. She had been the goal keeper for the women's national team back when he'd still been playing at the under-nineteen level. He'd quickly moved up. But she had left her gold-medal winning team after two brilliant seasons.  "Christ." He ran a hand over his face, yanked open the door and stomped out. First the pressure to stay in Vegas to take over the semi-pro team Jackson had funded with several other successful resort owners. And now this?  Back in his suite, resentment roiled in his gut at Jackson's overt manipulation. The man would not give up trying to get him to admit he would never leave soccer. But he had to. He gulped down his second espresso, and made a halfhearted stab at some eggs for protein. His whole life had been regimented by his sport. Without the structure provided by the game he absolutely adored, he slipped, unmoored, aimless, through the days. The pain in his leg matched the excruciating pain in his chest at the thought of never playing again.He studied her intense gaze as she readied herself in goal, celebrated key wins with her teammates in images he'd found on the Internet. The one at a press conference, when she announced her retirement, pregnant by the coach of the team, showed her as tough, resolved and sad. He knew the feeling. Her husband had apparently died of a rare heart condition two years ago, keeled over on the sidelines one day while coaching a club team here in Vegas. And I thought my life was fucked up? He frowned and slammed the laptop closed. Might as well get it over with. He put on loose-fitting shorts and a T-shirt, flexed his knee a few times, and marveled at how it had healed. He recalled the utter torture of major surgery, a two week twilight of pain killers, four more in early therapy, trying to get the damn thing to bear his weight. The four months in intensive repair work with weights, swimming, yoga and some light running had been working. But his entire body tensed at the thought of donning shin guards and cleats. He simply could not do it. Choosing short socks and indoor turf shoes instead, he grabbed one of the soccer balls lying around his room and made for the front door and taxi stand. He'd do this thing. Kick a ball around with that kid. Try not to be a walking hard on in the presence of the woman he now knew equal to his own talent. And be done with it. His thoughts wandered to the blackjack tables where his night would end, comforted by the concept of winning a few bucks in solitude once again.

Excerpt #2:
 Ramon's entire body hummed with energy as he stared at himself in the men's room mirror. His need to escape from her or risk his go slow vow to Jackson had become imperative. Her laugh, the line of her jaw, the tops of her breasts, her bare thighs as she crossed and uncrossed those amazing legs combined to make him nearly demented with desire. He sighed and leaned his hands on the granite counter. His cock could cut diamonds and his balls were starting to ache. His natural tendency to go overboard with women, to fall madly, deeply in love with every single one of them, had gotten him in trouble before. But his publicist had always spun him as super playboy, master cocksman of the soccer world. It worked for all concerned.  But this was different. He refused to let this one get away, goddamnit. They had a connection beyond physical. It was as strong as the deep throbbing in his lower belly, when he looked up into the mirror, straight into Gillian's deep green eyes. There she stood, bold as brass in the men's room, a wicked smile on her face. He turned. "Look, um, I don't think...." he started to say. But she reached out, hooked a finger through a belt loop and pulled him close. Before he could say another word, her arms were around his neck and her mouth covered his, her tongue caressing his lips. He moaned and gripped her closer, yanked her hair out of its flimsy clips, and buried his hands in the tangle of red that spilled over her shoulders.  He walked her backward, hands on her ass, holding her as tightly as possible. Their tongues collided, teeth clicking in urgency. She broke away to catch her breath, giving him access to the neck he'd been eying all night. He ran his tongue down a line from her jaw, caressing the porcelain length of it, keeping his hands fisted in her hair. When she looked at him again, her eyes shone.  "God, Gillian...." He gave into the mind blowing necessity to flick his tongue over her freckles. She smiled. "I knew it." He muttered, as he buried his face in her neck again. "Tastes like cinnamon." She drew him back toward the long chaise lounge conveniently situated in the large, men's room sitting area. He eased her down and slid the flimsy strap off her shoulder, cupped the exposed curve of her breast, so perfect and heavy in his hand. The proud, hard buds of her nipples begged for his mouth. He pulled one between his lips, sucking hard. His head buzzed. He tried not to rub against her body, afraid he'd shoot his load in the expensive trousers Jackson had sent up, like a high school kid in the back seat of his dad's car. "Wait, Ramon," she whispered.  "I'm not waiting. Not another minute." 

Yummy, no?And I will forgive you if you start mentally saying his name like my editor and I did...Rrrrrrrrrrrra-MON!
oh yeah.check back Friday.  Answer one question you'll find an answer to in one of these 2 excerpts and you could win!Now don't you have some shopping or decorating or baking to do?cheersLiz

Oh Andreas, We Love You. Another Tulip Six

From the 3rd in the critically acclaimed Turkish Delights Trilogy:
The 1NightStand date went badly. But Lale followed Andreas home, curious in spite of herself to see just what he meant about that "lifestyle."




He cut her babbling short with his mouth. It only took a few seconds of resistance before she had her arms around him again, had her luscious body curved into his. Andreas moaned and gripped her hair once more, using his lips and tongue to posses her, prove he wouldn't be toyed with. She tasted amazing, and he spent some time exploring her reactions to his kiss. A few moments of blissful lip to lip, and he forced himself to stop,caressed her face, and spoke."Let's go," he left her standing in the middle of the front room.




Thanks for following and for all your great comments!
More from many talented authors today at:
www.sixsunday.com

Having a Day? Plus a Sneak Peek at my Pre Editing Project!

One of my favorite non-commital phrases when I ask someone "how are things?" is:
I'm having a day.

It's a few words that can mean a lot.

As in: I won the lottery today.

or

Someone rear-ended my car today.

or even

After I turned in the winning lottery ticket and collected my huge ass check, I got rear ended by a garbage truck at the same moment I realized my insurance had expired.

For me, "having a day" is more like the last one.  Mixed.  Weird.  Like I should be grateful that something has gone so right (got a new contract/got another submission off my plate/got a new follower for my blog) that I have no reason to be pissy (because I can't get a decent review/because my daughter has another dent in her car/because everyone else on the planet can get published by houses that keep rejecting me/because I want one of those damn silver stars on AllRomanceEbooks so bad I can taste it).

So I take a deep breath, remind myself that I've really only been at this "published author thing" for little over a year, have had some very nice releases within this year and I must be patient.

Doesn't help when My "Day" includes the fact that I packed my Tap Room to the rafters for a great event on the same day I lost a crucial tap handle (draft account at a local popular restaurant) thanks to distributor politics I have no control over.  ARRRRGGGGHHHH....

Have day kids.
It's nearly the weekend.
I'm off to pre-edit my newest: Cheeky Blonde, a brewery intrigue/sabotage/funny/love story releasing in 2012 from Decadent Publishing.
here's a fun *unedited* excerpt to whet your whistle for what I promise will be one of the most unique, funny and uber hot romances you will read next year:

They are at the National Beer Festival where Jennifer Baxter has just hosted an off-site premiere party for her new brew, a wine cask conditioned pale ale: Cheeky Blonde.
Sean sorta looks like THIS guy:

while his fraternal twin Liam (who is bi- but the single father of a baby from a badly timed "moment" with a former girlfriend) looks like this guy:
These two are WHITE HOT...Rock Stars of the craft brewing world.  
And Sean is about to turn Jen Baxter's life inside out.


 As another reporter walked up to interview her, Jen's scalp tingled.  She turned and immediately clashed eyes with a set of deep sapphire ones that belonged to the supreme Alpha male of their craft-brewing world. She shivered as her mind registered who it was.Sean Garrison, half of the team of twin brothers who owned and ran the most successful brewery in Michigan stood, glass in hand, part of a large group of nationally famous brewery owners, with his gaze trained right on her. She swiveled her head around, thinking someone was over her shoulder. Why the hell else would the man be looking at her? Months later, she'd realize that was the split second her life changed forever. Garrison Brothers Brewing was the Sam Adams of her state, having started small, and made bigger by huge injections of family and investor money. The expert marketing guidance from the man now openly staring at her from across a clichéd crowded room hadn't hurt either. She gave a little wave, as if they were old friends. He raised his glass, which brought instant heat to her face, as she attempted to re-focus on the guy asking her questions. She gave rote answers, and mentally reflected on Sean's unparalleled reputation as class-A prick and marketing genius. She couldn't figure out how he garnered so much publicity with such a colossal attitude, but perhaps that was exactly it. Rumors abounded about rampant infidelities that led to a messy divorce from the woman whose family had given him start up cash. She'd never so much as been in the same room with him until now; yet there he was, all six-foot-plus-inches of compelling male.  Impressed, but unnerved by how absolutely gorgeous he was, she started to walk to another group of reporters. She nearly jumped out of her skin when a hand touched her bare shoulder. Her first thought--that eyes that blue should be criminal in a man--faded as her brain took in his ruggedly handsome face, coal-black hair that just skimmed the collar of a soft white cotton shirt hugging a classic male V-shape. Her toes curled and she gripped the beer glass in an effort not reach out and touch to see if his hair was as silky as it looked. She also struggled not to stare too obviously at the dark indigo crotch of his jeans. The small "Garrison Bros." logo on the left pocket brought her crashing back to reality. The din of the bar seemed to die down when their eyes locked. But the man stayed silent. She tossed her hair back, attempted nonchalance and glanced at the large hand still on her bare shoulder. Knee-jerk sarcasm won out over fear. "Holding me down, Garrison?"   He smiled—a lazy, crooked, thing. His eyes narrowed in a way that made her feel utterly undressed. A chill ran down her spine. She reminded herself this was Mr. Supreme Asshole of the Beer Universe, known for cutthroat tactics when it came to preserving his company's hold on large account tap handles. He was well known for making promises to retailers that small breweries like hers had no chance against, effectively shutting them out of major restaurants and bars. The distributor who handled his product in her area had done just that to her less than a week ago, and she still smarted from it. That memory gave her strength to shake his hand off and take a step back. He looked like a GQ model but was still a major jerk.  His smile never faltered, as he put the offending hand into his pocket, raised his own glass of Cheeky Blonde at her and took a long pull of what she knew was a damn better beer than anything his company had put out for a while.  "Nice gimmick," he said after he'd drained about half the glass. She just nodded, speechless, and processed the left-handed compliment. Her insides coiled in a combination of irritation and no small measure of lust—two warring sensations she'd come to closely associate with him.  Just as she was about to walk away, because he seemed inclined to take the whole "strong, silent type" thing pretty seriously, he took one step forward right into her personal space. He loomed over her, unsettling her with his sudden proximity. Lips brushed her ear. Did she imagine his fingers on her arm? An aura of malt, cigars and subtle citrusy cologne enveloped her.

"Couldn't have done it better myself." His voice was just a whisper. 

"E" is for "Emergency" -- "W" is for "Wait"

The modern medical system in America is a wonder, truly.  All those people scurrying around, taking your info, poking you with needles, asking the same questions over and over, nurses with their blood pressure monitors...oh and this is AFTER the long and somewhat disgusting wait known in the biz as "triage" where they determine just how important your emergency is after, one would surmise, gauging how you react to various vomit, blood and asthma attack scenarios that walk through the door.  


How do I know this?


I spent nearly six hours with a sick teenager in one of the area's two very well regarded medical establishments last night.  I skipped the potential gun shot wound/near decapitation triage possibilities at the University Michigan medical center, arguably the best trauma center in the free world as our emergency did not involve blood or dangling limbs.  We hit the "pediatric emergency unit" at St. Joseph Mercy med center, where this particular child had been birthed nearly seventeen years prior.


I don't know if you've had the pleasure of experiencing a modern emergency room lately. If not, I'd say they are well avoided.  No matter how many times I asked, neither George Clooney NOR Noah Wylie appeared.  What the hell is up with THAT?


Instead, we got very good care from friendly nurses and an extremely attentive doctor who just happened to have done some work in the nephrology area, just where our particular emergency was located.  After a hit of Vicoden to ease her pain (oh--these people are "pain level obsessed" too--which begs the question:  "If I can't FEEL any pain anywhere, how the hell do I know if I'm cured?" but whatever) an IV, blood draws, stomach Xray and renal ultra sound, plus many (many) hours of sitting around looking at each other we were sent out into the early morning hours of the Next Day with scripts and warnings to make appointments with more specialists.


I won't bore you with the details.  I'm just sharing a little something, as one does on this particular "blog" platform.  When one's child is ill, as this one has been, off and on for nearly four months with the same damn thing, it is the most helpless, frustrating feeling in the universe.  I've always been an extremely practical mom.  Not hitting the pediatrician much.  Able to mom-doc diagnose pretty much every single thing that's come our way.  This thing has me running in circles, antibiotics, pain meds and cranberry juice in hand for way too long.  Hence the little trip to fun-town a.k.a. our local emergency room, last night.  


I feel somewhat eased by a side diagnosis relative to "too many antibiotics but no real permanent damage" gotten by the VERY excellent (and kinda cute but he was no George Clooney) ER doc last night.  He even called to see how she was feeling when we got home.  I think he wants to date me.  But that's just my sleep deprived ego talkin'.


Overall it was down time well spent.  


But ER's are well avoided, unless you need your head sewn back on or that bullet removed.  And here's a hint:  walk in and say "My chest hurts" and all bets are off.  *makes note to try that next time to get the George Clooney/Noah Wylie treatment*


Thanks to all you for you supportive words as I killed time doing random posts on Facebook.
Liz

Across the Beer Bar with...Silvia and her Bears

Welcome to my beer bar Silvia!  What can I pour you to start? Oh, hello my lovely....*strokes the fur*

How about a nice stout? Once the weather turns chilly I tend to go for Guinness more times than not.

Allrighty then a beer girl! FINALLY...here's a lovely Baltic Porter (we do lagers here but there are some nice rich, dark ones for winter time).  Let me pour you BOTH one!


So.....North Carolina AND LSU eh? hmmm..sports fan are we? (i'll riff with you all you want on this, if you are a sports fan--Louisville Cardinal and Michigan Wolverine here!)

I was raised on Carolina basketball, and it's probably some kind of crime to go to LSU and not be into football but I'll confess that I'm just not into sports. I found the LSU football crowds more a traffic nightmare than a source of excitement. I can work up a bit of interest in soccer on occasion but I'm just watching for the men. Soccer players have the best legs.

*Shudders*  Carolina Basketball......(GO CARDS)


You've had a lot of great success with your books, are published with some fabulous houses. What the was the first book you had published? Tell a little of the story when you got the news.

The first story I sold was Pilot's Bargain, book 1 of the Shifter's Station series. I'd thought of myself as a historical writer. I'd finished several Regencies and tried submitting them to print publishers and agents while studying up on the growing ebook market. Then I got this crazy idea for an m/m/f menage sci fi story. It was completely different from anything I'd imagined writing, but I decided to go for it and write it as a series of novellas. When I submitted the first one to Changeling, they accepted it and I was ecstatic. I kept reading the email over and over not really believing that I was actually going to have a story published. Once reality sank in, I called my husband and then started frantically trying to get a sitter for my toddler so we could go out and celebrate. 

You really write across the board from historical to Sci Fi.  What is your favorite and why?

My favorite is probably whatever I'm writing at the moment because that is what I'm deep into. I've written a lot of shifter stories this year, branching out from werewolves into deers, bears, horses, and even an otter who probably needs his own story. I've had a blast creating these unique characters and exploring how their animal characteristics affect their human side. 

Oh look--an empty glass! not in my bar!  what's next for you?

How about something a little lighter this time. Maybe an amber ale.

           I have an amber lager you will love--it's an award-winner!

Seems like you are an avid cook.  have you always been? what's your favorite meal of the day?

I've enjoyed cooking for as long as I can remember but I really got into it when I lived in Baton Rouge. The culture of food in south Louisiana is amazing and I couldn't help but be swept up by it. I started watching a lot of cooking shows and getting friends to teach me. Breakfast is my favorite meal. I could eat breakfast food every meal of the day. I'll often get up early just so we can have fresh scones or muffins or cinnamon rolls.

Tell us about your newest release.

My newest release is Paws on Me, it's part of the multi-author Protect and Serve series which is set in a near future world where vampires, shapeshifters and other creatures have "come out" to society after an economic collapse. Each story has a cop, a fireman or another uniformed service person as a main character. Paws on Me stars police lieutenant, Seth Morrison, a character from my other two Protect and Serve stories, Sex on the Hoof and Savage Wolf. Seth is a big bear of a man who doesn't think he needs romance in his life until he meets a bear shifter named Brandon. Sparks fly when the two men meet but Brandon is involved in a case Seth is working, and they both have to break some rules to get what they want from each other.
I've got two more books coming up this month. Stallion's Accord releases later this week. It's an m/f futuristic set on a planet with Regency-like customs and one hot as hell horse shifter. And One Kiss, an m/m Christmas story that showcases my love of baking, will be available from Silver Publishing on December 11. 

Now describe your perfect hero....in explicit detail....

Hmm...I spent my late teens reading every historical romance I could get my hands on and all those tall, strong, dominating dukes with powerful thighs and expert horse riding skills left a very big impression on me. So there's a lot of that classic alpha hero in my idea of perfection. Let's see....my perfect hero would be tall with black hair and blue eyes, muscular but not ripped. He'd be dominating, a man who knows what he wants and goes after it, but he'd also have a vulnerable side and be willing to let his partner take the lead on occasion. He's rough around the edges, somewhat of a bad boy but ultimately does what's right like Captain Mal from Firefly. 

Ummmm.....huh...oh, sorry, was just doing a little head-writing there...

Okay, whew.  now for a nightcap. what's your poison?

Is Irish coffee a possibility? No. Just beer huh? Well, then I've not gotten nearly enough pumpkin ale this fall.
       Good, here is some of the last of my Pumpkin Lager....cheers!

Protect and Serve: Paws on Me by Silvia VioletBuy Link: http://changelingpress.com/product.ph... Seth Morrison. I'm a cop, a police lieutenant to be precise. I've been on the force more years than I want to think about. I've seen good men get killed, turn dirty, lose themselves in the bottle, lose their fucking minds, but I'm still here doing what I do. I don't know any other life. People tell me I need a break, a vacation, to relax. I don't want to fucking relax. I just want to do my job and keep this city from falling apart.I park my car, grab my coffee from the cup holder, and charge up the front steps of the station. I could take the side door, it's closer to my office, but I love the chaos of the bullpen. When I open the door, I breathe deeply, enjoying the variety of smells: coffee that's been on the warmer far too long, the sickeningly sweet smell of candy and doughnuts, pine-scented cleaner from the scrubbing the janitors gave the floors last night, and something unnamable that simply smells like cops and hard work. I shake my head as I try to imagine not being here nearly 24/7. This is where I belong.My stomach rumbles. I should've had dinner, but after pretending an afternoon nap was a night's sleep, I'm running late. I'll grab something from the vending machine while I dream about a juicy burger and thick home fries. It sure would be nice to have someone cook for me. I don't seem to get along with stoves. Years ago, I tried being married. That worked for about 30 seconds. My wife wanted me to work shorter hours. I wanted her to talk less, or maybe never.Friends tell me I should make an effort to date, but I'm more comfortable at a gruesome homicide scene than making small talk at dinner with a woman or a man. Yeah, I like both. I stopped going out with men when I entered the academy. I just couldn't deal with the shit the guys would give me. Now, I don't advertise what I like, but I pick up a guy now and then. I'm discreet, but if somebody finds out, I'll deal.One-night stands I can handle, but relationships are beyond me. People think police work is draining, but I'd rather spend all day in the field and all night at my desk filling out fucking paperwork — and often I do — than try to decode relationship signals. I inevitably screw things up and never understand why.Sex I need. Romance I don't.My phone rings. I pull it out of my pocket hoping the call will save me from the mountain of paperwork on my desk. It's Drew Danvers, detective and vampire. That's right, a vampire who works for the good guys. We've got a werewolf in homicide too. And he's a damn fine cop.I remember when the shifters came out of the closet, scaring the hell out of us humans. One by one other monsters made themselves known. Most people assumed they were all assholes who wanted to eat us, but I quickly learned not to judge a man because he sucked blood or turned into a wolf. I judge men based on how they treat others.I answer the call. "What's up, Detective?""Two dead werewolves found in a closet at Shift. Hacked up pretty bad. The scene's a circus. Jenkins called in sick. I'm on my own, and –""I'll be there in ten.""Thanks, sir.""No problem. Murder scene or paperwork, which would you choose?"* * *I step inside the club. A crime lab team is there and several uniformed officers are talking with employees. I spot Drew in the entryway of an office. He's frowning as he questions a tall hairy hunk of a man. I've seen this man around the area several times, and just like every other time, he makes my cock sit up and take notice.Our most recent encounter was a week ago. When I want to grab a beer and be left the fuck alone, I go to Mitch's, a dive just down the street from Shift. Last time I spent the evening there, he sat next to me at the bar and came on strong. I was in a shitty mood. I wanted him, and it pissed me off. He's not my type. He's young, hip, and outrageously flirtatious. I walked away, but I regretted it later that night when I couldn't stop fantasizing about him.The man looks my way and catches me staring. His grin says he knows the direction my thoughts are going. Fucking bastard winks at me. Drew scowls.I turn to face him. He grins down at me, that same cocky-as-fuck little smile he'd given me earlier, making me even more aware of how close we are and how big he is. At 6'2″, I'm hardly small, but he's got several inches on me. And while I've got a rather thick pelt, the fur visible above the vee of his t-shirt is astounding.He smiles mischievously. "You gonna cuff me if you take me in?""Impeding a murder investigation will get you thrown in jail."He rolls his eyes. "I found two dead guys in my closet when I came to work tonight. My business is shut down, and I'll be losing money every minute that you're here. But at least I have a sense of humor.""Well, I don't."He shakes his head. "Are you taken too?"I take another step back. "You're making a lot of assumptions."I look over at Drew and realize he and Jason are grinning like loons. Fuck. All I need is the two of them ragging me.I glare at Drew. "Detective, do you think you can question this man without killing him?""Probably.""Fine. Fleetfoot, head back to the lab. Take my car. I'll get a ride with Danvers." I throw him my keys, and he snatches them out of the air as he gives Drew's hand a final squeeze. Jason is better in the lab than any tech we have. We only send him into the field when we're desperately short-handed. I run a hand through my hair, wishing I knew how I'm going to hold the homicide division together if we don't get more funds.He holds out his hand. "I'm Brandon Lord. I own Shift.""Lieutenant Morrison." I shake his hand. His skin is surprisingly smooth, his grip tight and warm. I want to feel those big hands running over me. I want to rub his furry body with my own. Fuck! I should assign someone else to this case right now and get the hell away from him. But some crazy restlessness he's dredged up in me makes me fight my instincts."Nice to meet you, Lieutenant." His voice is low and rich. And his grin lets me know he's well aware of my body's reaction to him.I need to get away. His smell alone is making me hard. "I'm not here to play games. Drop the act and treat this case seriously, or I'll find an excuse to throw your ass in jail."He grins. Fuck, he knows he's got me rattled. "I'd never kill anyone, Lieutenant. I'm just a cuddly teddy bear."The bear shifter and the bear. Ridiculous. I need to leave now. This man is no cuddly toy. I don't think he's our murderer, but he's far smarter than he wants me to believe and likely far more dangerous. "I know what cuddling leads to."Brandon laughs, a deep, infectious sound. I can't help but respond. Now I want him more than ever. Taking this case was a supremely stupid idea, staying on it now is unprofessional.But I won't walk away.
Silvia's Website: http://silviaviolet.comFacebook: http://facebook.com/silvia.violetTwit... http://twitter.com/Silvia_Violet

Another Turkish Six Anyone?

Thanks to all of your great comments and support!

Today I'm excerpting once more from Tulip Princess, the 3rd in the Turkish Delights Trilogy.

Elle and Emre are discussing the potential 1NightStand for Emre's younger sister Lale. Elle implores her husband to let his sister find some happiness:



"You were only twenty-five my darling, remember, when we...."
 "I know but that's...."
 "So help me if you say 'it's different because she's a woman,' I will brain you with a frying pan."
"Okay, I won't say that--but it is--and you know it."
She held her temper; she didn't want to argue with him. What she really wanted was him inside her, again, like right now.



Check out all the other amazingly talented writers this Sunday at:
www.sixsunday.com

A VERY Hot Dozen from Tulip Princess (warning Rated XX)

Hold onto your knickers kids...this one is might make you blush! well, maybe not but you will like it


FROM TULIP PRINCESS, THE 3RD OF THE TURKISH DELIGHTS TRILOGY FROM DECADENT PUBLISHING:
ON SALE NOW AT WWW.SMASHWORDS.COM
Buy Turkish Delights and Blue Cruise and get Tulip Princess for 50% off until December 5!
use code:  BW92K

You want to read these together...they are more fun that way!

Ahem: the Dozen (You've been warned! Heat Level is UP):

He shifted his weight, spread his legs, and let her see the erection tenting his shorts. Her eyes locked on it and the tip of her tongue darted out. It nearly made him drop to his knees. He frowned, unhappy with his internal response to her.
"Is this why you came here tonight, Lale?' He put a hand on himself and rubbed through the fabric. "Because I can accommodate you. The thing you have to remember is—" He reached in and drew his cock out. "I get to say how."
She nodded, but before he could say another word, she crossed the room and had her soft hand on his cock, lips on his. He moaned, and grasped her neck. Sweeping his tongue into her sweet mouth, he reveled in the hard metal yet tender sensations inside. 

mmmmm.....let's go on shall we?


Her hand encircled his head, her thumb running across the fluid already pearled there and his hips bucked. Her other hand cupped his balls, traveled further down, stroking beneath them. She released him and broke away from his lips in one movement and went down on her knees. 
Shit, this is not how I…oh, dear Lord…. 
He grasped her hair as she swallowed him all the way down.

You can purchase all 3 of the Turkish Delights stories at  www.decadentpublishing.com
I'm on tour until December 9 giving away all sorts of fun stuff and giving you insight into why I wrote these stories PLUS some sneak peeks at The Diplomat's Daughter, the Prequel to the series PLUS PLUS:  But wait! Is Tarkan really dead?  
make it a HOT one!Liz

Welcome to the Beer Bar Linda LaRoque!

Welcome to my beer bar Linda! Thanks, Liz. Nice place you have here.
what can I pour you to start (just say whatever you want here...) Since I'm driving, I guess I better have a Diet Dr. Pepper.


I'm pretty excited to have you here--you are a true time travel expert in your writing! I'm excited to be here. I don't know how much of an expert I am, but I have written a few—7 to be exact. One I don't have a publication date on yet. 
I'm trying out one myself--hoping to keep as "real" for readers as possible.
What is the number one biggest challenge writing time travel stories? Making the mode of travel believable and staying true to the historical period in which your hero/heroine travels to.

What made you want to do them in the first place? Have a favorite writer in that genre?  Even as a child I wondered what it would be like to live in the past, especially the old west. Would I have been a farmer's wife or live in town? Maybe I'd be a dance hall girl like Miss Kitty on Gunsmoke. Of course I didn't have a clue what they did other than serve drinks and sing. Other eras interest me also. I have one set in the 1930s oil fields of Texas. Time travels are loads of fun to write!Yes, I loved Diana Gabaldon's Outlander and Dragon Fly and Amber and Constance O'Day-Flannery's Time For Love.


How long have you been writing? When and what was your first published work? I've been writing since 1992. My first book, When the Ocotillo Bloom, was published in 2007 by Wings Press. Yes, it took over 14 years, lots of rejections and rewrites before it was accepted. It's been rereleased by Champagne Books.



okay we share a "favorite:"  Oh Brother where Art Thou is hands down one of my go-to movies.  What did you like about it besides the obvious (George Clooney)? I thought George Clooney did a wonderful job in this movie, as did the other two actors. The time period fascinated me—the politics, the music, and the people. I don't usually buy soundtracks, but I did this one.


What keeps you going when you hit a wall, your muse locks up and you get the dreaded block? You know, if I leave home and go to Starbucks and sit down with a coffee, a pad, and pencil, the words usually begin to flow. I can get more writing done away from home as there aren't as many distractions. I carry a notebook to write in when waiting at the Dr.'s office, when I take the car in, and when we travel. While hubby drives, I'm writing. If I'm totally stuck, I put the story away, let it perk, and work on something else.


While I will likely never try my hand at a "cowboy" romance they are quite the going thing these days.  But your newest book goes into the future..and out onto the ice...how did you come up with that concept? From a dream. I dreamed a frozen woman was fished from the sea and taken to an undersea world where their advanced technology saved her. She had difficulty settling into their controlled society. That's as far as I got in the dream. My story has similarities—an undersea city with a controlled society, romance, and a suspense plot. The year is 2155 and the world is living with the results of global warming.


You are with several different publishers, as am I.  What do you like about working with the different houses?  Is there a publisher you'd like to work with? If what I've written doesn't fit one publisher's lines, it usually does the other. That way I'm not so limited and can I branch out.I'm very pleased with my publishers but wouldn't mind working with a larger house or possibly Carina.
Finally, how have you found the balance between "creating" and "promoting?" I haven't found a balance yet. For me the creating is the easy part. Promoting is hard. I participate on many loops, Facebook, and Twitter, but this is my first blog tour. I'm hoping it's a success. I'd like to remind your readers that the Grand Prize for my tour is a Kindle to be given away on January 1st. Details on how to enter are on my blog at http://www.lindalaroqueauthor.blogspo...

thanks for stopping by. Thank you for having me at here today, Liz. Fun crowd you have around here.


A Marshal of Her Own – Blurb and ExcerptBlurb:Despite rumors of "strange doings" at a cabin in Fredericksburg, investigative reporter Dessa Wade books the cottage from which lawyer, Charity Dawson, disappeared in 2008. Dessa is intent on solving the mystery. Instead, she is caught in the mystery that surrounds the cabin and finds herself in 1890 in a shootout between the Faraday Gang and a US Marshal. Marshal Cole Jeffers doesn't believe Miss Wade is a time traveler. He admits she's innocent of being an outlaw, but thinks she knows more about the gang than she's telling. When she's kidnapped by Zeke Faraday, Cole is determined to rescue her. He's longed for a woman of his own, and Dessa Wade just might be the one—if she'll commit to the past.
Excerpt:Dessa stood still and watched as they conversed. Something stank to high heaven about this entire situation. Why were the cops chasing robbers on horseback? It's not like Fredericksburg was that isolated. She glanced at the captured men. The boy moaned, and she made a step to go over and help him. The Marshal spun, and the expression in his eye froze her in place. "He needs first aid." "He's fine. The Doc will tend to him when we get to the jail."  "You could at least call 911 and let them patch him up for you." She nodded to the man lying so still with his eyes closed. "Your other prisoner doesn't look so good. He's going to die on you if you don't start CPR or get him some help." "Lady, no one is going to hear a yell from out here. Never heard of any 911 or CPR." He propped the hand not holding the shotgun on his hip and threw her a disgusted look. "Are you blind? That man is dead, shot through the heart."Her head swam for a moment, and she struggled not to give in to the sensation and faint. She drew in deep gulps of air. "Well...well..., what about the coroner and the meat wagon, not to mention the CSI folks? If you don't get them to record the scene, how are you going to cover your butt? The authorities might say you shot him in cold blood."He looked at her like she'd sprouted an extra head. "I don't know what the hell you are talking about woman. No one will question my authority. I'm the law in this county. Now, be quiet, or I'm going to gag you."
A Marshal of Her Own will be available now at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble.com and other online book stores. It is the sequel to A Law of Her Own available at The Wild Rose Press, Amazon.com, and Barnes and Noble.com and other online book stores. I'm awaiting a release date for A Love of His Own, the third story in the Prairie, Texas series.
My release contest for A Marshal of Her Own began November 9th. I'll be giving away this vintage rhinestone typewriter pin. To enter the drawing, go to my website or blog and sign up for my newsletter. Don't forget to verify your email address. If you already receive it, email me at linda@lindalaroque.com with A Marshal of Her Own contest in the subject line. Contest ends December 15, 2011.
Leave me a comment or ask a question today and you'll be entered into a drawing for an ecopy of A Law of Her Own.
Also, today's blog post is part of 2 blog tours—this one for A Marshal of Her Own and starting December 4th, one for Born in Ice. Follow along each day and leave a comment to be entered into the grand prize drawing and learn about my Born in Ice contest. The Blog Tour schedule will be posted on my blog and website. It will last 25 days and the Grand Prize is a Kindle. Leave a comment each day and your name will be entered 25 times. Pretty good odds, huh?Thank you for having me on your blog today, Liz!
Tomorrow, Dec. 2, I'll be on Jill James' blog at http://www.jilljameswrites.com/ talking about Courting in the Old West.Happy Reading and Writing!Linda LaRoqueWriting Romance With a Twist in Timewww.lindalaroque.comhttp://www.lindalaroqueauthor.blogspot.comhttp://www.facebook.com/?ref=tn_tinyman#!/linda.laroquehttp://twitter.com/#!/LindaLaRoque

Forbidden Fruit--A Sneak Peak at The Diplomat's Daughter

Greetings and welcome to Day 2 (or 3 but who's really counting) of the Turkish Delights Trilogy 
BLOG O RIFFIC Tour 2011!  Cue fireworks. 


  
Today I'm filling you in on how amazing it is that I actually LIKE Turkey, given the shit I went through there---not the least of which involved the Gendarme....but that's another story....over at Books Read 'N Make Up Done and I'm still giving away a ton of cool Turkish trinkets...


Okay. So, if you are a good little follower you know I've hidden in the writing cave for the past 3-4 days (just ask my family) and concocted and AMAZING end to this story that seemingly begins with Emre and Elle and Turkish Delights....and ends with Lale meeting her Dom in Tulip Princess while Caleb settles into a life without Tarkan but with his new love, Adem in Blue Cruise. 




But....


Did you know that Emre, Tarkan and Lale's parents have quite the story themselves?  You will, when The Diplomat's Daughter is released.  I have a working copy of cover art--it's pretty groovy.  'Cause this story is set in Istanbul of the 1960s between a man and a woman who were friends once, rediscovered each other and snatched love from the jaws of disapproval.


Blurb:

When Vivian Kincaid's eyes meet those of a hunky local at Istanbul University  it only takes her a split second to recognize her dear childhood friend. Levent Deniz was the servant boy who taught her to run the streets of the ancient city years before, giving outlet to her wild streak even as a child.
Now face to face once again as adults, the only thing standing between them and happiness is her father, and the man he has chosen for his only daughter. The newly appointed Consul General for the United States has other plans for her. Ones that do not include a former servant, now successful entrepreneur and businessman. He will do everything in his power to keep them apart.
The Diplomat's Daughter is set in 1960s Istanbul and tells the story of pre-destiny, passion and the rebellious power of true love.

Here's a taste of the early years between the two: Vivian's lungs were screaming with the effort of maintaining a breakneck pace through the crowd. She'd learned to ignore the grumblings of men who disapproved of her presence among them. There was no way she could spend every waking moment cooped up either in school or at home.  Her body craved activity. It wouldn't let her sit still.  The first time she'd snuck out to follow the servant boy as he made his rounds of street markets for fresh fruits and vegetables she'd stayed hidden in shadows and alleys.  Fascinated by his ability to come and go as he pleased, she'd tracked him for nearly an hour before he finally turned and pointed straight at her. She'd been hidden, or so she thought, tucked nearly underneath a street merchant's table and had been congratulating herself on her spy-like skills.             The boy's face was hard, but his eyes were dark and twinkly, amused at her.  "Go back girl." He said in pure, sing-song English.  "You don't belong here on street."            She stood, brushed the street dirt off her proper school uniform and crossed her arms, not moving. "No. And you can't make me."  He'd shrugged.            "Then you have to catch me." And he'd taken off like a shot.  She'd made a point to join him nearly every day after that.  He showed her how to steal bread, and eat it while they sat along the mighty Bosporus. On their forays she also learned how to really hide, to see while being unseen. A skill she treasured.            Her memories were snapped to present when he dashed by her, grabbed her hand and yanked her into a dirty narrow passageway between wooden buildings. His eyes were wild. He pushed her into a pile of wooden pallets.  "Climb! As high as you can go!" She heard the dog's bark before she could ask what was wrong.  She heard a yelp, looked down and saw he'd whacked one of the feral animals on the nose.  It kept coming at him though. Vivian was terrified but wasn't about to hide while he did all the fighting. She crested the top of the pile, found some chunks of concrete and started hurling them down to distract the animal. He glared up at her.  "Hide!"            She backed up against the smooth side of the ancient building. Her heart was pounding but she couldn't stop smiling. This was living as far as she was concerned.  Sitting around and reading Jane Eyre and doing crochet like her mother expected her to do made her want to scream and throw things.             He was calling out, yelling at the now three dogs that them cornered. Vivian leapt from her leaning pallet tower over to a balcony that jutted out into the dirty alleyway. There were some empty iron chairs there. She heaved one over the side, distracting the dogs long enough so her friend could scramble up the wooden pile out of immediate danger.  He stared at her, his chest heaving. She felt her face break into a grin again. He laughed at her. She thought that if she had a brother, she'd want one like him. But his gaze was intent, searching. She blushed and looked away.            After the dogs lost interest and wandered away they'd been sitting for nearly an hour and it was dangerously close to dark. They'd passed the time seeing who could hit the opposite wall with pebbles, talking in a mish mash of English and Turkish about what tomorrow might bring.  She heaved herself over the side of the balcony and dropped down, surprised when he caught her in his arms. Vivian gulped. His strong arms felt good around her. This was weird and she was late and was going to be in all sorts of trouble but she liked his hands on her. They made her feel ... safe.            He let her go and dashed away, knowing she'd follow.  Within minutes the dogs were on their heels again but it was too late to hide.  Their feet pounded the cobblestones, she in front so he could reach back every now and then and smack the lead dog's nose with a stick to delay them. As Vivian took the final long jump over the dirty canal that separated the diplomatic neighborhoods from the rest of Etiler, she heard a cry of anger and pain.  She wheeled around and didn't see Levent. Her breath coming in gasps, she doubled back and found him, crouched against a rusting pipe that jutted out from the street, his hands on his face.  Blood was everywhere.            "Oh no, Levent, did the dog..." she tried to touch his hands but he jerked out of her reach.  "Let me see!"            He stood, his legs wobbly, and kept making for her father's compound. Blood dripped on the cobblestones as she followed, pleading with him to let her help. He ignored her and kept moving towards the house.                                                             ***
            "Merciful Virgin child where have you been?"  The girl's mother stood at the kitchen door, her hands clutched together so tight Levent couldn't make out where one ended and the other began.  He saw as Vivian tried to smooth her wild hair, but the blatant dirt splotches on her once-white school shirt and maroon skirt were impossible to deny.  So she simply stood, staring as he ducked behind her mother and into the kitchen.             His own mother's reaction was about what he expected. Calling for the kitchen maid she shoved him down onto a bench and pulled his hands away from his face. Blood was all over his shirt, ran down his neck, was making disgusting puddles on the clean floor. She railed at him, smacked his head once or twice, yelled for his father.  But she went about this business of cleaning up the gash at the corner of his upper lip.              "This is your reward for stealing away with the little girl.  You must stop now. Her parents know. It is inappropriate for her.  She must stay here. And you must go.  We are sending you to academy. You can get started on that military career you want so badly." Another clout to the back of the head signaled that his father had arrived.  Levent felt his chest tighten.  Never see her again?  How could that be?              "No," he claimed. "I...I want to work. The academy is too dear. We can't afford it."            Whack, that one from his mother's hand again. His head was spinning.  "How do you know what your father can and cannot afford, you cur."  She shook her head as she pressed yet another fresh towel to his face to staunch the bleeding.  "Insolent spawn" was just one of the things she muttered including all manner of Turkish curses on his hide as her gentle hands cleaned his face and put a bandage over his upper lip.  His father's heavy hand fell onto his shoulder once his mother was finished with him.            "Son, I found you a job you can take for a couple of years, if you like.  I know you love building things so an uncle has offered to take you on as a tradesman. Starting tomorrow."  His father's voice was low.  "I want you to learn, do you hear me? Get all the knowledge you can, then spend your two years defending our beloved Republic, then I will have money for you to start your business. No son of mine will serve another, like I have done."            Levent frowned. "You are noble, father. I am proud to be your son." His father stared hard at him. "But...I don't want to leave...here."            His parents exchanged a Significant look. His mother moved into the kitchen presumably to fetch bandages, mumbling about "ungrateful sons" and "inappropriate friends." Levent felt a stone drop in his gut when he looked back into his father's dark eyes.  "You must, my son. It is for the best...for everyone."  For the first time in his nearly fourteen years, Levent let his temper lose to a beloved parent. He stood, aware his shirt was stiffening with his own blood and his upper lip hurt like the devil had it in a vise.  But he was not leaving here.  Not leaving her.            "No. I won't. I don't care what you think. She is my friend and I..." his shoulders sagged. He'd given away his position. Now his father knew the truth. The look in the older man's eyes told him it wasn't a huge news flash. Bulent Deniz stood, his six foot six frame taking up most of the room in he small kitchen alcove.             "You will go, Levent. This girl is not your friend. She is your superior. Don't ever forget it." He put a meaty hand on the boy's shoulder. Levent felt the weight of the world settle over him. His childhood--running the streets, laughing and joking, getting into and out of trouble, watching her lips curve into a smile and her voice as she spoke--was over. His father was right. He swallowed, nodded his head and moved into the kitchen to receive first aid. Bitter unshed tears made his throat ache. He sent a silent good bye to the girl, hoping she wouldn't be angry at him when she woke up tomorrow and he was long gone.

And one from later.... ("kucuk olan" means "small one": "koo-chook Oh-lahn")Vivian stood to thank the savior that belonged to the huge boot planted on the jerk's face. Her eyes travelled upward, taking in dark slacks, a trim waist, light blue shirt, long elegant, golden-hued skin of his throat. She put a hand over her mouth when she locked eyes with Levent. He wasn't even breathing heavy after his little wrestling match. He lifted his upper lip in a smirk, the scar standing out on his otherwise perfect face. Dear Lord the man was gorgeous. Her thighs tingled as she smiled at him. The purely physical response she was having registered in her brain as something entirely new. No man had ever elicited this from her. It was terrifying. And exhilarating.  A few of the regulars jostled the German out the door, shoving him out with shouts of encouragement. Levent stood, hands in his pockets and stared at her. She moved first, wrapping her arms around his neck, going up on tiptoe to reach him, breathing in his scent, the very essence of man and felt him return her embrace, a little reluctantly at first. She broke away, put both hands on the sides of his face and was embarrassed when a tear slipped down her face.  He put his large, dark hands over hers.  The room shrank, reduced from a loud, illegal bar to a darkened space where only two were present. The sensation was surreal. If he would kiss her, right now, she knew she'd be his forever.  But he took a breath, and a step back, keeping her hands clutched in his.  "Darling, Vivian." His voice was rough with emotion. "Kucuk olan. I can't believe it's you." She was temporarily blinded by a vision.  His hands, her body, his lips, her eagerness, candles, a bed, some wine. And him.  "Yes, it's...a surprise isn't it?" Lame. "The most pleasant one I have ever received." He kissed one hand then the other. His lips were full, soft and amazing. Vivian gulped, yanked her hands back before she did something really unsuitable, like fling herself back into his arms. "Let's sit, shall we? We have so much to talk about..." His firm hand on her elbow felt perfect. Lillian was gawking at them. "Hello," he switched to beautifully accented English. "I am Levent." He held out a hand to her friend. Vivian regained her senses. "Sorry, um, Lillian, this is my..." she was dumbstruck as she looked at him. He raised a dark eyebrow at her. "My oldest friend, Levent. We knew each other years ago, the first time I lived here." Lillian's eyes devoured the tall, striking man next to Vivian and she felt a rush of utterly irrational jealousy at the girl's stare. She glared at her and Lillian stuck her tongue out.  "Very pleased to meet you." she simpered and let Levent hover over her hand a tad too long for Vivian's taste.   "Yes, well we'll be over there," she indicated a couple of chairs in the corner. "We have some catching up to do." She looped her arm brazenly through Levent's and pulled him away. They sat, someone brought them a couple more beers. He sipped his and sat back, watching her. She fiddled with her bottle.  "Go ahead, I don't care." He indicated the dark bottle. She frowned.  "I don't care if you care." He burst out laughing and sound was like a beautiful symphony to her ears. He leaned forward and touched her hand. "Exactly like I remembered. Any opportunity to break rules, no?" He licked his lips and Vivian nearly fainted at the fantasy loop in her head ramped up a notch.  He was quiet again, his eyes were deep pools of brown. She wanted to drown in them. How had she forgotten him? They'd gotten into so much trouble that last day his family had sent him away. She'd missed him and soon after her life had exploded when her mother found out about some affair her father was having, packed the two of them up and skedaddled back to California for the next fourteen years. "I thought you had your own company or something," she crossed her legs aware  they were shaking. "Why are you taking classes?" "Finishing a Master's level degree. How did you know I had a business?" He crossed his arms over his chest. Vivian resisted the urge to stare at how the soft cotton of his shirt stretch across his shoulders. Her hands itched to touch, feel, caress. She must really be a slut. But she didn't care. She wanted this man. And sensed he wanted the same thing.  She shifted back, mirroring his posture. "I asked around." "Ah, well, yes I do. A small engineering subcontracting company. I am the go between really on large construction jobs right now. It's a living." He shrugged. Vivian took a deep breath, sucking in the essence of the man across from her. Light cologne mixed with something elemental, something urgent and needy. She forced herself to smile and flirt when what she wanted was for him to kiss her, press her up against a wall and .... and.. she shook her head.  As progressive and liberated as she was Vivian was still a virgin.  Groping and kissing and necking were the extent of her repertoire.  She'd never felt compelled by anyone to go any further in spite of a lot of spirited efforts to convince her otherwise. "And you. What brought you back to my city, eh small one?" She realized they had eased into Turkish. The endearment struck her right in the heart. He used to call her that every time they'd venture out, goading her to do more, take more chances, follow him into ever deeper trouble. She looked down to hide her overheated face. "What else? My father." "But you left, not long after...well, you know. I thought you would never return." "How did you know? Your mother told me you had moved to the military academy." She blinked back tears at the memory.  Her mother had yanked her hair so hard that day they'd shown up, late, filthy and in his case bleeding like a stuck pig.  He shifted in his seat and Vivian realized he was uncomfortable. Her parents had yelled at each other long and loud that day indeed. Over her. She'd been left to roam the streets like an urchin with an urchin. She'd slammed the door and ignored them. But the next day Levent's mother, the woman who babied her and coddled her in ways her parents never did choked back tears as she told Vivian that her son had gone away. Would not be returning.  "Forget him my darling," she'd crooned as Vivian's tears soaked her dress.  "I have.  We must.  It's for the best." He cleared his throat. "Earth to Vivian?" He cocked his head to one side and touched his scar. She blushed again. "Sorry, I was... remembering."  He nodded.  She drank the too-warm beer in a rush, hoping it would calm her. It went down the wrong way and she sputtered and coughed as he leapt up and pounded her back. Keeping a hand on her upper back he leaned into her ear. "You okay small one?" His breath was sweet and soft against her neck. She closed her eyes against the amazing chemical response she kept having to his proximity. He stood a moment longer at her shoulder then sat. She tried not to beg him to come back over, touch her some more. 

ahhhhh....the sweet succulence of the Forbidden Fruit....is it destiny? Or just chance?
The Diplomat's Daughter.Where you can find out where Emre and Tarkan get their charm, and Lale gets her wild streak!Releasing from Decadent Publishing early 2012.And because I love you...here's that peak at the working cover....I like it.  Tell me what you think.
IF you made it this far down (and why wouldn't you?) you get a double bonus!
USE THIS CODE: BW92K and get 50% off (yeah that's HALF) on TULIP PRINCESS when you buy both Turkish Delights and Blue Cruise at Smashwords.com!!!

There will be an opportunity to do the same on the Decadent Publishing site later this week.
Don't ever say I don't give you anything.
Gunayden (that's good morning in Turkish:  "Goo-nigh-den")Liz