Tag Archives: Flower Passage

Interview with Liz Crowe, author of the Turkish Delights series @beerwencha2 @DecadentPub #romance

Turkish Delights (front) by Liz Crowe

Please welcome romance author Liz Crowe to my blog. Liz is one of those authors whose stories I sit down to read with a box of tissues. I just know she’s going to make me cry. And that to me means I automatically love the book. 

Hi Liz! Can you tell us about how you started your writing career?

LC: Kind of by accident, or, if I’m completely honest, boredom.  I am a voracious reader, but primarily mainstream fiction. I have never read (nor do I plan to read) “traditional romance” books. However, I was sort of bored with my book options back in 2009 or so, and was pleasantly surprised to find a box of hot ‘n steamy books at my door one day (one only had to complain a few times to spur the spouse to action back then).  I read my way through Shayla Black and Lauren Dane’s non-paranormals and the “Mona Lisa” series by Suny (the only paranormal series I ever really liked). And between taking little “me time breaks” if you know what I mean I was hooked.

And I was bored at work—I was a realtor, a successful one mind you but that job is fraught with boring stretches of waiting and staring out of windows. So I came up with a concept for a book that eventually became my best selling Stewart Realty series (while I was working on getting my microbrewery open—dang, I must have been really bored!)

And the rest is history, on a small scale, I suppose.

Liz Crowe BundleNow, I’ve heard a bunch of your stories have been released as a print anthology, and in an ebook bundle. Can you tell us about them?

LC: The Turkish Delights series began as a trilogy of “1Night Stand” stories, the popular Decadent Publishing series about a mysterious dating service run my the never-seen Madam Eve.  Once those were done I simply had to tell the  prequel story and then the plot line I left dangling needed tying up so I wrote the final novella. There are 5 books in the series, ranging in length from 9,000-33,000 words.  Decadent has re-packaged them for me as an “ebook bundle” at Amazon and under one really beautiful cover as a print anthology, and let me tell you they read like a long juicy novel now.

Available on Amazon in PRINT & Ebook BUNDLE

What was your inspiration for these stories?

LC: A challenge, actually.  I had just gotten yet another rejection (from Decadent) for Floor Time, Stewart Realty book 1.  The editor tossed me a bone by suggesting that I try “one of their short story lines for submission.” Well, I fumed around, kicked some rocks, pouted, declared myself incapable for writing short stories, then started to ponder the possibility of a 1Night Stand branch….in Istanbul. I lived there for a bit over 2 years myself and it was the first place my mind went when pondering this challenge—what sort of couple could I put together that would not otherwise meet? That would require the help of a dating service in order to get real about what they already felt about each other?  And so Emre’s story developed, a “cougar story” as he is ass-over-teakettle in love with Elle Kensington, an American executive of a pharmaceutical company who is 15 years his senior.  That was the original “Turkish Delights.”

As you know Jessica I am pretty much incapable of crafting stories without compelling side or secondary characters. And once I realized that Emre’s identical twin Tarkan was already involved with Elle’s male personal assistant…and that Tarkan  had agreed to take on the family’s military obligation by serving the required 2 years at an outpost somewhere…well, the rest of the series just took off from there.

Blue Cruise is Caleb’s story (Elle’s assistant). Tulip Princess is the story of the twins’ younger sister Lale.

The Diplomat’s Daughter is the story of the fated-loved of the parents of these people and Flower Passage is the final novella.

Who is your favorite character from any of these stories? Can you include an excerpt involving this character?

LC: Honestly, there are so many compelling characters in this series…between Lale and her Greek Dom Andreas; Emre and Elle’s power play dynamics; Tarkan, Caleb and a new man, Adem…

I think though when I was writing it, Caleb truly spoke to me.

Caleb sipped at the smooth brown liquor. Once again, he ran a finger over the heavy ring Tarkan had given him on the small yacht theyd rented for the week. Fear made his throat tighten at the thought of his soul mate, spending his last weeks on duty in the Turkish capital. Theyd argued their last night on the boat.

I still dont understand why youre doing this,hed said, sitting back on a large bench on the boats second level, Tarkans head in his lap as they took in the fading beauty of a sunset over the ocean. Theyd consumed a huge delicious meal prepared by the on-board cook, an attractive young man whod obviously been chosen for the job because he didnt mind two men sharing a bed. Adem was attractive and slender with a French father and Turkish mother. An aspiring chef, hed told them, and one day hoped to own his own exclusive restaurant in the southern resort town of Antalya. And he knew when to disappear and leave them alone.

The deep blue sea below them and velvety soft air all around had turned the trip into one of the most erotic vacations Caleb could possibly imagine. He shut his eyes tight, fighting anger at the memory of putting Tarkan back on a plane in his stark military uniform the day before.

That night, he had taken Calebs hand, threaded long fingers through his and brought them to his lips. Its a Turkish thing, my love.Caleb grimaced, remembering how hed yanked his hand away in anger.

Bullshit. Youre just trying to please your father again. Deflect attention from us so your family wont notice that were together.

Tarkan had stayed silent, turned on his side, and let his empty hand trail along Calebs knee, down his bare calf and back up, soothing and calm as usual.

Shh, my lover. It will be fine. Only a few more weeks, and then we will be together again, like we planned. Seni seviyorum.

Caleb swallowed hard, remembering how hed tried to resist, tried to stay mad, but Tarkans hands, then later his lips and tongue, and his lean strong body, had made him forget his anger, forget everything but how much he loved the man once again. He had demanded they tell Tarkans parents the truth. After nearly six years in a monogamous, loving relationship, he was not about to keep sneaking around and hiding who he was. He had an uneasy truce with Tarkans parents, but the aging grandmother who lived in their large mansion loved him, Caleb knew, because she wanted whatever made her grandsons happy. But as tough as it might be to live as openly gay partners in the U.S, it was unthinkable in Turkey, so their plans included a move to California in three more weeks. Tarkan and Emres nineteen-year-old sister, Lale, was already begging her parents to let her move to the States as well, finish college at UCLA to be near her brothers and their families. She and Tarkan were extremely close, and his stint in the military made her even angrier than Caleb at times.

A sudden, piercing pain between his eyes made him grunt and lean up, forcing the woman drooling on his shoulder back into her own seat.

Jesus.He rubbed the bridge of his nose. A flight attendant set a bottle of water on his tray. He gulped it down, but instead of helping, the pain spread, making him squint and grab his temples, trying to quell whatever thrashed around behind his eyes. He groaned and sat back, dreading the thought of a migraine on the last three hours of this flight. Then, as quickly as it gripped him, the headache left. For the first time in his memory he literally saw stars. He took deep breaths until his head cleared when a massive wave of panic replaced the pain.

He yanked his seatbelt off and stood. Running a hand over his stubbled face, he tried to fathom what in the hell was happening. It had to be some sort of anxiety attack, brought on by memory, anger, fear, and longing. Jesus, whatever it was it sucked. Shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, he started pacing the aisle, willing the lump away in his throat. He sat again. Got antsy. Stood and paced some more. Flight attendants gave him worried glances.

Nothing helped. If anything, he became short of breath. His heart pounded in his ears and he tried to lecture himself into calmness. Attempted to picture Tarkans soft eyes, imagine his hands on his shoulders, rubbing, soothing away Calebs Type-A stress. For some reason, for the first time in years, he couldnt conjure mental images of his lover at all. That tore it. He took four long strides to the flight attendants area. He had to be quite a sight, eyes wild, hair standing up where hed pulled at it for the last hour, but he no longer cared. Something was seriously wrong.

No one acknowledged his presence. That was odd. First class passengers typically wouldnt tolerate being ignored. Caleb cleared his throat. The group stayed clustered around a small screen in their kitchen area. He muscled past them. Someone in the group quickly flicked off the screen. The attendant whod been bringing him drinks fixed a smile on her face, but he saw the fear in her eyes.

What.His jaw ached from clenching it.

Nothing sir, can I get you anything else?The group disbanded, doing their jobs, completely silent. He used all he had not to yell with frustration. Obviously whatever had happened, no one planned to share it with passengers who might panic. His gut rolled again.

Water,he croaked. Can I?

Someone shoved a piss-warm glass of water into his handagain, very unlike the formerly polite and attentive crew. He took a deep breath, tried to catch the eye of the uniformed woman now carefully ignoring him. Giving up, he stumbled back to his seat, his knees suddenly unreliable. What in hell is going on? Whatever it was, he didnt want to face it, hoped the flight would simply go on and on forever, never setting down and forcing him deal with the utter devastation that must have occurred. Was it an earthquake? Was Istanbul hit by terrorists? He talked himself out of the doomsday scenarios playing in his head, popped an aspirin, and concentrated on getting some sleep. Anything to hold at bay what was about to make him throw up the bourbon, food, and water hed had that day. He settled for fuzzy daydreams about Tarkan, their smoking hot beginning, turbulent early days, and the moment he gave in to his true heart and admitted how he felt. He sighed, ignoring the niggling sharp pain that had developed behind his eyes again and drifted. Memories crowded his medicated brain, tumbling around and bringing home the very first time he realized hed found the love of his life in Turkey.

Turkish Delights Anthology by Liz Crowe

Available in PRINT & Ebook BUNDLE

I agree. They are are so compelling. What other titles do you have published?

LC: I have a book called CHEEKY BLONDE with Decadent Publishing that is a bit of romantic suspenseful romp through the craft beer business that came in 2nd in the Love Romances Café popularity contest—right up there with JD Robb (the significance of which had to be explained me).

I also have another 1Night Stand with Decadent, a soccer based one called CAUGHT OFFSIDE.

HEALING HEARTS is a novella that launched the Challenge Series for Decadent.

My Stewart Realty series is a soon to be 7 book series that is a best seller.  It includes: FLOOR TIME, SWEAT EQUITY, CLOSING COSTS, ESSENCE OF TIME, CONDITIONAL OFFER, ESCALATION CLAUSE, and coming this spring: MUTUAL RELEASE (which could be read as a stand alone novel)

PARADISE HOPS is a stand alone also set in the craft beer business and one of my favorites.

HONEY RED is a recent ménage I had published.

So, a lot to keep readers happy. Where do your best ideas come from? 

LC: I try to pull from my real life experiences and ground my stories in reality as much as I can which sometimes leads to some tough endings for some of them.

What is your favorite book that you’ve read?

LC: Depends on when you ask me. Right now I would say “The Fault in Our Stars” by John Greene followed closely by “The Dinner” by Herman Koch that I am reading right now. I judge my “favorites” by “willing to read them again-isms” and for that I’d say Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell or Cat’s Eye by Margaret Atwood.

Do you belong to a critique group or have critique partners? If so, what have you learned from them? How has it affected your writing?

LC: I don’t belong to groups per se although I have a solid base of beta readers and other folks I bounce ideas off of.  I can’t offer my time to read pre published things as I am pretty darn busy elsewhere in my life so I don’t feel right asking anyone else to critique me in the early stages.

What is the best piece of advice you would give to aspiring authors? 

LC: Don’t think you are above a hard editing session. You aren’t. Ever.

So true! Is there anything else my readers should know about you?

LC: I am also known as The A2 Beer Wench because I am part owner of a craft brewery in Ann Arbor and handle marketing, sales and Tap Room management for it (hence my lack of time to read and critique things for other writers).

Liz Crowe BundleThe Turkish Delights series by Liz Crowe:

A young American woman comes face to face with her destiny in Istanbul in the 1960’s and an epic dynasty is born.

When Vivian Kinkaid turns around in her college classroom and makes eye contact with a man who was once her forbidden childhood friend, her life is changed forever.

A sweeping saga of family, love, loss and recovery—The Turkish Delight series begins with a special sort of magic. Then  Madame Eve works her miracles for the Deniz family, but even she can’t overcome the harsh realities that force this Turkish/American family all to deal with tragedy when one of their own is ripped from their close-knit circle.

“The Turks” opens with best-selling classic romance for the ages.  Then ends with a thrilling novella that brings all the players back together.  Set in Istanbul, Las Vegas, and Southern California, The Turkish Delights series has it all—heat, heart, intrigue and a deep, family connection that transcends all barriers.

The Diplomat’s Daughter
Turkish Delights
Blue Cruise
Tulip Princess
Flower Passage

Available in PRINT & Ebook BUNDLE

Tour Giveaway!!

Turkish Delights (front) by Liz Crowe

The final stop: www.decadentpublishing.blogspot.com is a contest that consists of 5 questions plus a bonus round. All answers can be found in various posts throughout the tour.

The commenter who gets the most answers correct AND leaves their email in their comment wins:
1 signed print copy of Turkish Delights
$50 Amazon gift card
and if they get the BONUS question too: a Beer Wench tee shirt from Liz’ brewery.

Here is the tour schedule:

2/25   www.backwardsmomentum.blogspot.com
2/26    www.harliesbooks.com
2/26    www.twinsietalk.blogspot.com
2/27  www.stickgirlbookreviews.blogspot.com
2/27  http://happilyeverafter-cgtetreault.blogspot.com/
2/28   www.msspencertalespinner.blogspot.com
2/28  www.literatiliteraturelovers.com
3/1  www.sevensexyscribes.blogspot.com
3/1 www.cindyspencerpape.com
3/2  www.shhmomsreading.com
3/2 www.melissakeir.com
3/3 www.desireeholt.com
3/4 www.kimcharmichaelnovels.com
3/5  www.markofthestars.com
3/7  www.nicolezoltack.com
3/8 www.carrieannryan.com
3/9  www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk
3/10 www.decadentpublishing.blogspot.com

About the Author:

Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, 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 groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and followers who are 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.


Blog Tour: Liz Crowe’s Turkish Delights series continues with two new releases!

I’m so excited to have Liz Crowe here to share her first memories of Turkey which helped to inspire her Turkish Delights series. I’ve read the first three, and am anxious to read the next in the series, Flower Passage, as well as the prequel, The Diplomat’s Daughter. Take it away, Liz!

Istanbul, Turkey: Day 1. August 2000

Heat simmered, small children whimpered, mom tried to hold it together. The driver they sent to fetch us from the Ataturk International Airport spoke 2 words of English, literally. We had rented our flat sight unseen as the one we had originally chosen got rented out from under us (more on “Graft Inherent in the System” later) had no idea what to expect really other than vague descriptions and a few photos. Instead of the going with the “soft landing” many ex pats opt for in which you go from airport to cushy hotel for a week or 2 we somehow thought jumping into our living quarters straight away was somehow a good idea. It was a very bad one. August in Istanbul is truly abhorrently brutally hot. Most natives have decamped for the coastal resort areas, including the majority of people who would be working for my spouse. The flat had no functioning A/C as it had been closed up a while. And we had no fans, no food, no water and no way of finding any. We show up, disheveled, exhausted, sweaty and pissed off.

Suffice it to say the “kapaci” (doorman) took perverse delight in our misery at first. It would take nearly 2 years for me to gain his trust by learning his native language. We were rescued by a lovely young Turkish man whom we still call “Emre Our Turkish Brother”. He scooped us up after a long night I personally spent sitting on my suitcase refusing to unpack determined I was on the next flight home with my kids screw this place. He took us across the Bosporus to the Asian side (we lived in Europe) to “Carrefour” which is French for “Walmart” got us set up with food, water, fans, and blessed alcohol (which is hard to come by and expensive there).

Within a week we secured our fate as “Mail-less” for the next 2 years by not understanding that the men at the door selling “tickets to a concert in the park for the mail men” were actually soliciting bribes so that we would receive mail.

Within three weeks I still had not unpacked.

By the time we hit a month I had gotten used to being woken by the cluck-cluck of chickens and the bleat of goats that lived down the hill from our super luxe, Bosporus view flat and the 5-times a day call to prayer, had found a decent grocery in walking distance. Still lived out of my suitcase although the kids had moved their clothes into dresser drawers and made friends with the Turkish kids across our small complex.

The day the kids went to school in the historic Istanbul International School Rumeli-Hisar complex literally in the shadow of the remains of an ancient Roman wall, I had been befriended by the “buyuk Anne” (Boo-yook Ah-nay—literally “Big Mother” translated to Grandmother) of the complex. She spoke zero English. I spoke 5 words of Turkish and 2 were cuss words. But our little mornings over the bitter tea and sweet cakes came to give me solace, made me feel welcomed and I slowly settled in.

After 2 years of travel, adventure, craziness and random misbehaviors we were on our way out and to England. The last day of my kids’ school out at the larger International School campus there was a pool party at some classmate’s house. I was on my way there, sans passport or visa as the spouse’s company had them to arrange our departure papers. There was an impromptu roadblock as the large neighborhood where I was heading housed a drug lord and they were attempting to capture him doing something illegal and caught me instead. I spent 2 hours in the company of the Turkish Gendarme, in the middle of nowhere, nearly hysterical and pissed off and finally amused.

My landing and departure both don’t do the amazing, frustrating, beautiful, ugly, exciting, lethargic, exhilarating, smelly, historic, modern, amazing place justice. I can’t wait to go back!

The Diplomat’s Daughter:

When Vivian Kincaid’s eyes meet those of a hunky local at the Turkish university her father forces her to attend it only takes her a split second to recognize her childhood friend. Levent Deniz was the servant boy who taught her to run the streets of Istanbul 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. The newly appointed Consul General for the United States has other plans for his only daughter. 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.

The Diplomat’s Daughter excerpt:

Vivian tore her gaze from the large windows, tried to ignore the tedious professor. She tugged a lock of her dark hair over her eyes. The stupid, frumpy outfit her father made her wear to school chafed every inch of her skin. She glanced around, not finding anyone interesting to stare at in the stuffy economics classroom. Frowning she looked over her shoulder, bored, angry at her circumstances, and itching to get out of the confines of the room. It was stifling hot already.  Her thoughts wandered to her plans for the evening with her friends.

They’d discovered an old Roman cistern that had been transformed into an illicit nightclub. Precisely the right amount of danger, served up with imported whiskey, local cigarettes, and attractive Turkish men plus a few daring tourists—the very thought of the place made Viv smile. Sneaking out of the consulate residence was a snap. Her father never paid attention to her anyway. Istanbul in the late 1960s was awash in tourist money and development. Plenty of trouble could be found if a girl knew where to search.

When her gaze met that of some hunky local staring at her like she was a water mirage in the desert her skin prickled. His eyes were dark, his features sharp and striking. The dark tie and light blue shirt hugged his obviously strong torso. Her eyes narrowed. Two can play the stare down game. When he smiled, she gasped and her heart lurched into her throat. She whipped around and clutched her hands together on the desk.

Oh God. It was Levent Deniz. Her childhood friend. The boy who’d made her early years as the child of a busy diplomat in this teeming city bearable. They’d spent countless hours playing in the parks by the Bosporus, daring each other through various mazes of dangerous boat docks, across rickety bridges through neighborhoods and streets where she had no business.

How could it be? She snuck a look back. The unique color of his eyes—a soft, deep blue—and that scar at the corner of his mouth, when he’d fallen and gotten injured trying to protect her from the feral dog that was chasing them. Yep. It was him all right. She turned again to face front, her heart pounding.

That day, his poor mother had been apoplectic. So had hers once they’d returned to her house. His father was the chief groundskeeper and his mother was the cook that came with the diplomatic residence where her family lived. She’d technically been forbidden to play with him again. But it didn’t matter, because after that day, he’d disappeared from her life. She remembered desperately looking through the kitchens and back halls where he usually lurked doing his schoolwork while his parents worked to serve hers.

Damn. He’d gone and gotten handsome. The years she’d spent back in the states after her parents’ divorce she’d nearly forgotten about him. Now she was back, thanks to her mother’s death and her father’s insistence on having her nearby. Stuck going to Robert College, getting into as much trouble as she could behind her father’s back, Viv hated every moment of her life since her return to Istanbul.

She snuck another look back over her shoulder at the young man. He had one dark eyebrow raised. His finger touched the scar at his full upper lip and was starting right at her. Vivian felt sweat break out under her stiff blouse. She crossed her legs. This was an interesting turn of events. One for the diary for certain. She grinned to herself, picturing her father, the newly appointed Consul General for the United States of America, all fat and sassy with his new wife and baby when he caught her making out with that lovely hunk of Turk under the consulate steps. Just what he deserved really.

Vivian gave her old friend one last quick glance, letting her eyes soften so he’d know she’d recognized him. Her skin pebbled again under his intense gaze. She studied his broad shoulders, his classical, almost Roman, features. Lovely. And about to get into a perfectly delightful amount of trouble with her, if she had any control over it. And she knew she did.

As if reading her mind, he leaned back in his seat, stretched his long legs out in front of him, and ran a hand through his thick hair. Was he actually blushing? Yes. Delightful trouble. Vivian grinned at him. It was a life changing moment that she would never, ever forget.

Flower Passage:

What would you do if the lover, brother, son and friend you thought you’d lost forever was returned to you?

Brutally battered emotionally and physically for the past two years, Tarkan Deniz has escaped his captors. When the Deniz family discovers the shocking truth they rally and do everything in their power to bring him back safely. But all have been affected by the tragedy of his loss, and must come to terms with the new reality, each in their own way.
When Happily Ever After seems like a nightmare…one man can bring healing to all, but will he ever be the same man again?

Flower Passage teaches the lesson that love once lost, can be regained, even if it takes a slightly different form than before.

Flower Passage excerpt:

Caleb stared at his computer screen, unfocused, exhausted. He took a breath and hit reply on the Skype chat, after typing a response to Adem’s recent inquiry as to his state of mind.

“About the same really. Only worse. Because I miss you like a fucking amputated limb. When are you coming back?”

“I finally got the location secured, on the corner I wanted and the contractors start today on the remodel. It will take at least six months so I thought….”

Caleb frowned. It was not like Adem to leave decisions hanging. He ran a hand down his face. He had not slept for more than three hours at a time since the other man had left. That made it, what, two weeks since he’d had a decent night’s rest? The dream kept cropping up during their last week together in California and after they’d fought, Adem had gone as promised, leaving Caleb to himself. Exactly what he did not want right now.

“You thought what? I can’t leave here for a while. You’re a lot more flexible than I am. I’m on salary, remember?” He hit return before letting his inner self-editor soften the words.

It was a solid five minutes before Adem replied. Caleb spent the time slugging back yet more caffeine and pondering Elle’s calendar, hoping he didn’t screw it up again like he had that morning. He’d misplaced some dates and had to tell her she was scheduled to be in Prague next week, not in September like they’d thought. Jesus. He was losing it.

“I actually thought I’d go to Turkey day after tomorrow, spend about a week, and then head back to the States.”

Caleb’s heart lifted somewhat. Thank God. He hadn’t spoiled things with his lame-ass emotional constipation or whatever his problem was lately.

“That sounds great. Really really (really) great.” He hit return. Then typed, “I miss you. So much.”

“I know. I miss you, too, my love.” Caleb smiled. “Try the massage before bed. Call that service. Or, if all else fails, rub one out.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing? Drinking chamomile tea?”

“No. I guess not. I must go. Meeting with general contractor in ten.”

“Okay. Call me later.”

“I will. Caleb. I love you. Remember that.”

“I know. I do. I don’t deserve you.”

“Now that is the truth. But it’s mutual. Until later….”

He closed the Skype window as his phone buzzed at his elbow. Frowning at the international number his heart clenched when he realized who it was.

“Vivian! So good to hear your voice!” He stood, intending tore fill his coffee cup while he chatted with Emre, Tarkan, and Lale’s mother. Her next words made him release the ceramic mug to the floor, bouncing it off the cork flooring and splattering the dregs of warm liquid up one pants leg. He dropped back into his chair and put his head on the desk, listening, realizing why he’d been having the dream again, and mentally booking his flight to Istanbul.

After ten more minutes of back and forth, he hung up, staring at the device that had somehow delivered news that he had longed to hear for years, but now only served to make him want to crawl into the corner and pull a blanket over his head. He’d promised to call Emre for her. But how to begin? Didn’t matter. It had to be done. He stood, pacing and placed the call that would blow apart everybody’s newly ordered world all over again.

Author Bio:

Microbrewery owner, multi-published author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz brings years of experience in beer sales, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse to her life as erotic romance author.  When she isn’t sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or concocting promotional efforts for her beer bar or her latest publications.

Liz writes “romance for real life” utilizing less traditional storylines in which characters have flaws, quirks, and multi-layered histories behind their motivations.  They could be your best friends. Or the girl in your office that drives you crazy.  She wants readers to sees a little of themselves in her characters—to identify, sympathize, and even get a little aggravated by them but always want to know more.

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.

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