My guest today at Seven Sexy Scribes is the fabulous Liz Crowe! If you haven't already heard of Liz, you will soon. Liz is a star on the rise and her speciality is big, bold characters who live with gusto in the real world. I can't compare her writer's voice to anyone else's because she truly has her own style and stands apart. In a writers market where a lot of the same thing is offered, Liz Crowe is a fresh flavor on the menu. I want to share a little more about Liz and share an exclusive deleted scene from "Conditional Offer" that only Seven Sexy Scribes was lucky enough to score!
(Pisssst please do not ask this lady for a Bud Light she means business..)
Liz
Bio:
Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and
journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great
middle west, in a Major College Town.
Years of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint
as an ex-pat trailing spouse plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the
beer industry) has prepped her for life as erotic romance author. When she isn't sweating inventory and sales
figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or sweating promotional
efforts for her latest publications. Her
ground breaking romance sub genre: “Romance for Real Life” has gained thousands
of fans and followers, interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA”
(“What Happens After?”)
Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for
its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in
the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered
real estate offices. Don’t ask her for
anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.
Conditional
Offer: Stewart Realty Book 5
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.
Here's that exclusive scene and a very hot music video that inspired Liz.
This is Grace Potter and The Nocturnals--Paris (Ooh La La)
Ooh La La...Oui
The Gig
Sweat dripped down Craig’s face but he shook it off, let it
fly, and kept his lips near the microphone and his already sore fingers moving
on the guitar strings. They’d been playing for a solid two hours without a
break. The crowd had gotten huge since their last break and he’d kept the band
at it, not wanting to lose momentum. Well, actually, he had not wanted to stop
ogling the amazing woman who’d made her way down to the front of the dance
floor and now stood practically at his feet, swaying and undulating to the
band’s folk indie rock original tunes.
He ended the song with an extra flourish, halfway drunk but mostly high
on performance.
He fucking loved this shit. Absolutely got off on playing
live music—no doubt about it. All his perceived failings, the sense of doom and
gloom he got staring at his dwindling bank account, and the general “I don’t
give a shit anymore” attitude since his father’s death faded. All he knew was
his guitar, the beer-y smelling mike and….potential sex.
He smiled, gave a low bow and let his hair fall over his
face. When he peeked between the wet strands he saw exactly what he figured he
would. Said hot woman had moved even closer, using the guise of a crowded dance
floor to hug the edge of the stage. He ignored her, slugged back the rest of a
beer and yelled to the crowd. “Who wants more? Huh? Let me hear ya! We got
plenty more…”
He held a hand back to his band. The only one who looked
winded was his forty-something drummer but the guy held up his sticks
indicating he could keep going.
He glanced down at the woman, took in the simple black,
sleeveless likely silk excuse for a shirt that skirted the waistline of tight,
pencil thin cream pants, and had to force himself not to lick his lips. Her
deep chestnut hair was pulled up off her neck but tempting tendrils escaped,
inviting his fingers.
“Hey, lover boy,” a female voice interrupted the erotic
fantasy loop that had started playing in his brain as he watched her deep red
lips circle the tiny straw in her drink.
“What? Oh, hey, thanks, um…” he accepted a fresh beer from
an attractive female bar tender. He gave her his best sheepish grin.
“Michelle. But not that you would remember.” She shot him a funny look. He wracked his
brain then hit on it. Two weeks ago, a long gig, in this very bar. They’d had a
quick and dirty fuck between sets. Yeah. He remembered now. She’d approached
him. And he’d given her what she wanted. As usual.
He tipped his bottle to her and stepped away. Forgettable
women were his forte. But he made no bones about preferring them older, experienced
and eager for what he had to offer. She raised a dark eyebrow then faded back into
the crowd. He watched for a half second, trying to recall if he’d enjoyed it or
not, then shrugged and set the beer on an amp and strummed a few notes of their
next song.
By the time they played another entire forty five minutes he
was approaching exhausted. “Hey, Michelle!” he yelled over to the bar. “Red
Bull? For me?” He winked at her and she rolled her eyes but grabbed one and
brought it to the stage. He’d spent the last half hour covering his fairly
obvious erection with the guitar. The female target of the night had made her
intentions clear. And he was ready.
He flopped down on the edge of the stage, sucked back the
Red Bull and draped a towel around his shoulders. The woman spent exactly two
minutes ditching her date, then sidled up to him. “So,” she said, her perfect
lips moving and coming ever closer to his. “You must know how hot you are
right?”
“Yeah,” he leaned back, grateful he’d regained big-boy
control over himself and didn’t have to cover an embarrassing bulge in his
jeans from her. “You’re not too bad
yourself.” He kept it light but flickered his gaze up and down her delectable
form. “Work out, do you?”
“Oh, I swim, do yoga. That’s about it.”
“Ah.” He hid his surprise that she shared his swimming habit
and leaned forward. “Want to…” he tilted his head.
“Yes.” She put her drink down and pulled him to his feet.
The sound system had kicked back in after the band wrapped up. He held her
close, put a hand on her hip and the other at her neck as they fake danced for
about a minute. She leaned up into his ear. His skin pebbled and his already
half hard cock punched into his zipper at her words. He took her hand and led
her outside. Lightening lit the edges of his vision. He was instantly soaked
after a few seconds outside.
The woman curved into his body. “I should go home.” She
purred into his ear.
He kept pulling her towards the back of the parking lot.
Tunnel-visioned, horny as hell and determined to fuck this woman six ways to
Sunday, he willed the rain to stop. By the time he had tugged her between his
motorcycle and the giant SUV parked next to it, the downpour had done its job
soaking them and had reduced to a sprinkle.
“God,” she sighed as he pulled her close, pressed her
against the truck and dove into her mouth with his tongue. She felt just like
he knew she would. Her slight, angular frame fit into the palms of his hands
fairly predictably. He cupped one of her small breasts, flicked his thumb
across her stiff nipple. She twined her fingers in his soaking wet hair. “Yes,”
her voice made him buzz all over.
Before he knew it she had him unzipped, was fisting his
cock. He groaned, angled his hips. Her
tongue met his, she shifted just enough to give him easy access to the front of
her pants. He slipped a practiced hand down the front of them, found her bare
sex and sighed into her mouth when his fingers slid inside her welcoming
body. God he loved older women.
He pressed his thumb against her clit, shoved her shirt up
and lowered his lips to her nipple and lost himself, yet again, around the body
of a nameless, pretty much faceless woman.
(Wow, I'm sweating like a yoga class, thank you Liz!)
Conditional Offer: Stewart Realty Book 5
Available now!
Other Books in the Stewart
Realty Series:
Floor Time
Sweat Equity
Closing Costs
Essence of Time
Conditional Offer
Escalation Clause (November
2012)
House Rules (March 2103)
Due Diligence (May 2013)
Good Faith (September 2013)
Thank you Liz for being our guest today and sharing "The Gig" with us!
XXOO Kat
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