Monday, April 6, 2015

Spotlight: Typewriter from Hell by Diane Cox

Typewriter from Hell
Diane Cox




Genre: paranormal romance, romance suspense
Publisher: Opal Creative Enterprises, Inc.
Date of Publication: November 2013
Number of pages: 147
Cover Artist: Rebecca Poole
Dreams2Media



Book Description:

Unemployed librarian Ellen Brinson submits her steamy manuscript to literary agent Henry Morgan. The only thing they have in common is that they are both desperate for money. Henry believes the unfinished piece is his ticket back to the big time.

His hopes for a winner are thwarted when Ellen falls in love and is offered a cushy job. As her interest in finishing the manuscript wanes, Henry's desire to get it published increases.

Enter the Typewriter from Hell. Ellen can't stop writing. The old Corona is a magnet and it's wrecking Ellen's new romance. Henry will pull any dirty trick he can think of to win - and he does!

You'll laugh your way through this fast paced suspense story and you'll never guess the ending.

Book Trailer

Amazon


Excerpt:

Chapter One

Ellen Brinson peered over her half glasses at the messy typewritten page. The ‘e’ on the old Corona was so occluded it looked like a giant dot. She quickly read through the last few paragraphs she’d just pounded out. She had a screaming headache.
Where the Hell was this stuff coming from? It was true she’d always wanted to write. Her MLS in library science was all about Ellen’s belief that she couldn’t write, so being around books was the next best thing. But, this, this stuff she was typing -- she’d never done the things, never even known anyone like the people in this story.
It didn’t matter. Six more weeks and her unemployment was going to run out. The stress of not having a job for two years, of trying to find something else she could do to earn a living and getting nowhere, the sheer desperation, was about to drive her crazy. This book was the only hope she had right now, and she clung to it.
Rubbing her eyes, Ellen stretched and the old afghan that covered her lap slipped to the floor. This damn dump was so drafty; she was always cold. Pushing her chair back, she moved to the other side of the room where a row of cabinets and a miniature stove and fridge masqueraded as a kitchen. She poured a cup of hot water from the kettle warming on the stove and dunked a tea bag in it. Then, she reached under the sink and found a pint of vodka, splashing a liberal shot into the tea mug.
The mug cradled in both hands, she plopped down on the rumpled bed that dominated the small room, and leaned back against the wall. Sometimes she felt like she was someone else. Maybe that explained what happened at the typewriter. Or maybe she was just going nuts. That was probably it.
Ellen took a big gulp of the spiked tea, her mind running in circles like a hamster on a wheel. She had to do something, even if it was wrong. She got up and crossed to the rickety wooden table that held her typewriter. She grabbed the messy pages of the manuscript that had been pouring out of her for the past three weeks. Automatic writing, wasn’t that what they called it? Ellen read a paragraph at random:
Serena slid a glance at the senator next to her. With a twitch of her shoulders, she hit him with a blast of décolletage, and then sent her tongue on an exploratory tour of her mouth. She could feel the man heat up like a kitchen stove.
 Another sideways glance confirmed that the front of his pants now looked suspiciously like a tent. Turning her head to look directly at him, she lasered him with the 100 Watt Sex Bomb Smile. Tossing her head back, she trailed her long, red fingernails down her arched, white neck toward her bosom. Then she rose and wiggled her way across the room, giggling to herself.

My God, what crap! Where had it come from? All the same, it was so trashy that maybe it had some potential for being published. It reminded her of the stuff written by Isabel Ritter –no, Isabel Rider.
Rider - she got a visual of the author astride a naked man, bucking in unabashed lust. Ellen laughed out loud, then as quickly sobered as the gravity of her situation struck her.
She ran her fingers through her curly hair. What could she do with this stuff? She needed to send it out to somebody, but who?
And, why would they read it? She was nobody, unpublished. She didn’t even have a friend at a publishing house. She knew a few writers, but they were mostly historians. They would be appalled if she asked them to pass this trash on to their agent.
She read through the pages again. What the Hell. It’s worth a try. Taking in a deep breath, Ellen jumped off the sagging bed, pulled her parka on over her sweats, and tugged on some mukluks. Slamming the door to her flat, she descended five floors of walk-up, her mukluks slapping against each step.
A late spring snow was lazily drifting down as she pushed through the front door of her building, cursing as a splinter poked her hand. She hated this dump. She was beginning to hate New York. Ellen had come here with such high hopes, sure she would discover the glamor and excitement that beckoned in so many novels. Instead, the reality was that New York was no fun for the poor.
In spite of her disappointment, the farmhouse in Iowa where she’d grown up still didn’t look good to her. That was something. Her mother would make her life a living Hell if she had to go back home, broke. Only her father had believed in her dream, and he’d been dead five years now.
“Watch where you’re going!” A guy in a plaid wool jacket bumped her as he passed on the busy sidewalk. She turned into the Strand book store, and headed straight for romantic fiction.


About the Author:

Diane Cox lives in Atlanta, Georgia with two dogs and two cats. She loves to garden, snap photos of her flowers, and dine out with friends.  She works hard for her money, so she squeezes in her writing early in the morning.

Some years ago she fell in love with the true story of one of her neighbor's pioneer ancestresses. After seven years of rewrites, she had learned about the craft. Her next tale -"Typewriter from Hell" was a complete departure from the first, incorporating romance, satire and a bit of fantasy. This year she will bring out a third project, and once again writing will be part of the plot.

She has been in love with books and reading all her life and has always wanted to write. Finally it has happened.


Author Links:
Facebook | Twitter | Youtube | Goodreads | Pinterest

Friday, April 3, 2015

Spotlight:Circumstantial Evidence by Lisa Clark O'Neill

Circumstantial Evidence
The Sweetwater Trilogy
Book 3
Lisa Clark O’Neill


Genre: Romantic Suspense
Date of Publication: February 26, 2015
Number of pages: 475
Cover Artist: Brian Koch

Book Description:

As Chief of Police in Sweetwater, South Carolina, Will Hawbaker has seen more than his share of violent crime. But none of it has prepared him for the aftereffects of a young boy dead at the hand of his mother’s boyfriend. And when the suspected killer turns up dead himself, it raises more questions. Could this crime which has already shaken the town be even more sinister than it appears?

Camellia Abernathy has seen her own share of heartache following the violent death of the husband she only thought she knew. In returning to Sweetwater, her childhood home, Cam hopes to pick up the pieces of a shattered life for both herself and her young son. One piece of that life includes Will Hawbaker, the man who not only launched the investigation which uncovered her husband’s double life, but with whom she’s been in love since they were teens.

A rapid fire series of events turns both Cam and Will’s lives upside down, drawing them together even as they find themselves in the crosshairs of a killer.

Amazon  | BN | Smashwords

Excerpt:

The fog was so thick you could slice it with a knife and serve it up a la mode.
Will Hawbaker scrambled over fallen logs, wading through a sea of saw palmettoes as deep as his waist. The maritime forest was nearly impenetrable, with boggy patches of ground to catch the unwary in its earthen grip, sucking the boots right off your feet if you weren’t careful.
Will paused, shining his flashlight around, the beam a feeble weapon against the moonless night. It was hours yet until daybreak, when the sun would burn off the fog like the wispy vestiges of a bad dream.
And this was definitely a bad dream. One Will wished he could wake up from.
Even at this time of night the air felt like a slow cooker, baking him from the inside out. Sweat rolled down his temples, his back, causing his shirt to cling and his hair to drip salty tears on the fanned leaves of the nearest palmetto. Mosquitoes droned just outside the protective zone of the repellent he’d applied, black clouds swirling through the white.
Nearby, an owl hooted.
This was an uncomfortable environment for an adult, even one who was accustomed to putting himself in danger.
For a child, it had to be terrifying.
“Sam!” Will called out, listening as his voice seemed to be absorbed by the soup-like air.
He heard barking, but couldn’t tell if it was coming closer to him or moving away. The team from the Sheriff’s Department with the bloodhounds had set out at the same time he had, but they’d all headed in different directions.
They had a lot of forest to cover, and not a lot of time. The twenty-four hour window, that critical time after an abduction, was closing fast.
Hearing something – had that been a whimper? – off to his left, Will turned the flashlight that direction.
“Sam?”
Even though no response was forthcoming, Will began moving toward the sound. If the child was hurt, he may not be able to answer. If he was frightened – and why the hell wouldn’t he be? – he may be too terrified to make his hiding spot known.
“Sam!” Will called as he shoved a small sapling out of his way. “I know you must be scared, buddy, but I’m here to help you.”
And because the kid probably didn’t believe jack shit coming from adults right now, especially adults he was supposed to be able to trust, Will didn’t bother to mention anything about being a cop. That wasn’t quite the vote of confidence it once was, anyway. Better to try something on the boy’s level.
“I hear you like dogs,” he said, his voice radiating calm even as he viciously kicked at a vine that wanted to tangle him up in its thorny grip. “Do you hear the dogs barking? They’re looking for you, too.”
Fingers of fog tickled the back of Will’s neck, teasingly cool against his overheated flesh.
Mother Nature was definitely female, Will thought sourly. Soothing and confounding at the same time.
“I like dogs,” Will said conversationally, because what the hell. If nothing else, maybe the boy would get sick of hearing him yapping and tell him to shut up. “You hear those bloodhounds barking? They’re out here looking for you, too. Kind of like Timmy and Lassie.” Will paused, wondering if the kid even knew who that was. Given that this was the age of animated sponges living in undersea pineapples, probably not.
“That was an old show I used to watch, about this awesome collie that was always saving this kid Timmy’s butt. I thought it would be cool to have a dog that could get help when you did something dumb like fall down a well, but I couldn’t have one when I was a kid. My mom didn’t want one. She thought it would mess up the house and was too much responsibility.”
His mother didn’t particularly want him or his siblings either, for much the same reason. But that was beside the point.
“Your mom told me that you’ve been asking for a dog.” Will stopped, shone his flashlight toward the base of the enormous oak tree off to the right. Was that a flash of red he’d just seen?
“But that you two had been debating about that responsibility thing, too. And that line about a boy who can’t even pick up after himself not being responsible enough to take care of a dog? I heard that one too, and it sucks. But the thing is, your mom is kind of right. I think she’s willing to give you a chance though. She told me that when you get back home, safe and sound, she’s taking you to the pound, first thing.”
“Liar!”
Will froze. It had been the merest whisper of sound, ephemeral as the fog itself. He half thought it was wishful thinking on his part.
“Now, I’ve got no reason to pull your leg about that, son. Dogs are a pretty serious business. A lot more serious than putting away your Legos and getting your dirty clothes in the hamper. You’ve got to make sure you feed them and water them and take them for walks… but maybe you’re not ready for all that responsibility.”   
“Am too!”
That was definitely no figment of his imagination.
Covering his relief with a look of exasperation, Will followed the voice with the beam of his flashlight.
Nine-year-old Sam Bryant peered back at him from one of the branches of the oak tree.
“Pretty good climber, are you?”
The kid looked terrified, but defiant. “Yes. But my mom…” his voice trembled on the word   “tells me that I’m going to fall and break my head.”
“Your head looks pretty hard to me.”
“She’s dead.”
“Excuse me?”
“He…” the kid’s whole lower face started to quiver. “He said my mom was dead. So you’re lying about the dog.”
Will swallowed the curse he wanted to say, but silently wished all the seven plagues to be visited upon the man in question. Hopefully while he was naked. And staked out on a fire ant mound. Why the hell would he say such a thing?
“He lied,” Will told the boy. “He’s the liar.”
He was Matthew Hastings, Sam Bryant’s mother’s boyfriend. After a particularly nasty argument over Hastings’ belief that Sam’s mom was coddling him too much because she was squeamish about Sam learning to hunt, Hastings decided to take the kid out into the woods anyway while his mom was at work. He’d abandoned him there, with no food, no water, and little hope of finding his way out. Apparently this was meant as an illustration of the importance of developing survival skills.
Luckily they’d managed to track Hastings car to this area, a stretch of uninhabited woodland used primarily for a hunting club.
Hastings seemed to have abandoned his car along with the boy, which meant he was in the wind somewhere. But the important thing was that they’d found Sam, alive and in one piece.
At least he looked to be in one piece.
“Sam, I need you to listen to me, okay? Your mom is fine. She’s worried sick, but she’s fine. But I need to know if you’re hurt anywhere.”
“I’m thirsty.”
“I’ll just bet.” The kid had been alone in the woods for almost eighteen hours. Given the fact that it was August in South Carolina, dehydration was a given. Will pulled a bottle out of the pocket of his cargo pants.
“Lucky for you I brought some water with me. Now, I have to contact the other people who are looking for you, so that everyone knows you’re okay. Can you climb down from there, or do you need help?”
“I can do it.”
“Good man.” But because Will didn’t want to take any chances, he moved closer to the base of the tree even as he thumbed on his radio. “Found him,” he said, and gave his approximate coordinates. “I’ll give you a status report on his condition just as soon as I have a chance to check him out.”
Fog swirled, obscuring his view of the boy, the tree, and Will moved his flashlight around in an attempt to see through it. “Sam?” he said, but received no answer.
“Sam?” he said again. “Be careful climbing down.”
That would be just what they needed at this point, for the kid to fall out of the tree and actually break his head.
Concern niggled. “Sam? Maybe you should just stay put, buddy, and let me help you.”
Will closed the final distance to the tree, but he tripped over an exposed root near the base and nearly went sprawling.
“Some help I am,” he muttered. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” he called out. But still the boy didn’t respond.
“Sam?” Will aimed his flashlight toward the branch of the tree where he’d last seen the kid sitting. Empty. He started moving the beam lower.
“Sam!” he said one more time when he saw no sign of the boy on any of the branches. The nerves that had so recently calmed began to jump beneath his skin. Shit. Had the boy fallen? He shone his flashlight at the ground, the boiling fog making it nearly impossible to distinguish shapes, around the side, back toward that root he’d tripped –
“Oh Jesus. Oh no.” Will stumbled the two steps that would take him to where the boy lay, dropping down on his knees beside him. How could he have fallen without Will hearing a thing?
“Sam?” Will reached out, turned the boy over.
And felt the blood drain out of his head.
The boy hadn’t fallen. He’d been shot.
And he’d been dead for quite some time.


About the Author:


One fine day in the not-too-distant past, Lisa Clark O'Neill left Wittenberg University with a BA in English, which she promptly neglected. After working as an interior designer, decorative artist, and Montessori art teacher (there may have been a BA in art as well,) she finally settled into the role of mother to two very fine children.

However, two years of doing the stay-at-home-mom brain cell melt drove her to pull out a pen and one of her old college notebooks.

That turned into six manuscripts.

Lisa spent subsequent years avoiding housework by burying her nose in just about every romance novel she could get her hands on, after completely falling in love with the genre. Her own work falls into the romantic suspense sub-genre, with strong comedic undertones.

Lisa currently lives in the Atlanta area with her family, her dog, her cat and her daughter's pet rabbit. When she isn't attempting to keep the rabbit from eating the woodwork, she's hard at work on her next novel.


Author Links:
Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

Tour giveaway
5 digital copies of Circumstantial Evidence

Tuesday, March 31, 2015

Spotlight & Tour Giveaway: The Stewart Realty Series by Liz Crowe

Floor Time
The Stewart Realty Series
Book 1
Liz Crowe

Genre:  Romance / Family Saga 
Publisher:  Tri Destiny Publishing


Book Description:

Jack Gordon is Ann Arbor's most delectable bachelor. At age thirty-five, he's made millions as a top-selling Ann Arbor real estate broker and has the right connections to close a deal by any means necessary. With his rugged good looks and compelling personality, he has a virtual black book most men would kill for and he uses it often, never settling for one woman for very long.

While his D/s past remains buried, exactly where he wants it, an undercurrent of boredom and dissatisfaction runs through his life now. A disastrous experience years earlier made him swear off the whole scene, but the more Jack suppresses his natural Dom, the more his frustration grows.

Sara Thornton, a rookie in the real estate game, has fast-tracked herself to the top of the Ann Arbor market. Her life reflects a disciplined and focused routine, exactly the way she wants it. However, as her career takes off, the fulfillment she seeks remains inexplicably out of reach. The one thing she knows for sure, she will not join the Jack Gordon groupies in her company, no matter how tempting that might seem.

A chance encounter and a difficult transaction throw Jack and Sara together and the sparks fly high and hot and often. Forced to confront the compulsions that gain momentum with each sizzling hookup, their relationship seems to spiral out of control until Jack finally admits what he needs, and shows Sara what she's been missing.

Available for Free at  Amazon   BN   iTunes   Smashwords   Kobo




Floor Time Excerpt:

Two o’clock became two forty-five with no guests. No big surprise. She made it through half of her water and a few chapters of the latest hot vampire novel she’d brought with her to pass the time. Bored, she got up to walk around when she saw a car pull into the long gravel drive.
She watched as Jack unfolded his tall frame out of the Corvette and walked around to reach into the passenger’s seat. It struck her that she had never seen him in anything but a suit, or at least dress pants, shirt, and tie, as she admired his ass in the dark jeans. He looked good enough to eat. But panic replaced her blooming desire.
What was he doing at her open house? Was there a problem with their deal?
She glimpsed a shopping bag from the local organic chain grocery in one hand. He grinned at her, lighting up his arresting eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.
Shit.
She had made a vow to herself she would not get caught up in the Jack Gordon whirlwind. However, here she was, high and mighty, and yet about to explode with need for his lips on hers.
Double shit.
“I thought you might be lonely all the way out here and we should have a picnic. What do you say?” He made his way to the front door. He wore a plain burgundy t-shirt, jeans that hugged his front as nicely as his rear, and driving shoes. Momentarily blinded by lust, she fought the impulse to pull him into the foyer and make him fuck her until she was spent.
Nice, very nice. The guy brings you a picnic and you want to skip right to the after-play?
Turning on her heel she headed back into the house without even responding to his suggestion, assuming he would follow her. Sara realized she had to get control of herself before talking or her voice would surely betray her. She glanced at her watch. Three p.m. – she had to focus on her job for one more hour. Let him wait.
“Don’t you have an open house of your own?” She sounded a tad more irritable than she intended.
“Nope.” He walked right into her personal space, brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her. His firm lips remained noncommittal. She shivered as he kept his hand on her neck under her hair. He caressed her almost absentmindedly as he looked around at the house.
“Well, the view is great,” he admitted as he strode into the front bedroom suite. Sara watched as he walked out of that room and took in at the high cathedral ceilings made of light ash wood. Then he whistled, picked up his grocery bag, and walked into the kitchen complete with new gleaming stainless steel appliances and white tile floor.
“Nice, but it’s sort of cold in here, isn’t it? Maybe some color, flowers or something, would help?”
“Fuck off, Jack. I don’t need your help. Why are you here, anyway?”
“Easy, tiger, easy.” He leaned on the countertop. “I know you know what to do. I can’t help it. It’s second nature for me to say something about the house first.” Sara caught herself clenching and unclenching her fists, and stopped.
Damn the man, anyway.
She couldn’t even stay mad at him. She slumped against the doorframe.
“It’s a shit listing. I don’t get any showings and hardly any new buyers from these open houses. The sellers couldn’t care less that it sits here and gets stale.” She sighed, then relaxed, only to have her desire for him rush over her like a tidal wave. He attended to his grocery bag and began setting stuff on the counter.
“What the hell am I going to do when a guest shows up, Jack? Put that crap away.”
“It’s okay, babe, we’ll just say we rolled out the red carpet for your potential buyers with these nice strawberries and this cream.” He pulled the last container from the bag with a flourish.
“You are insane, you know that?” She stared at the array of stuff on the counter.
“You won’t think that when I show you this amazing bottle of wine I found. I forgot I had it.” He pulled out a green bottle with a French label of some sort, two wine glasses, and a corkscrew.
“Um, yeah, well, I’m not really comfortable doing this here. I mean, it’s not my kitchen.” Sara gulped as she took another step away from him to get his smell out of her nose.
“Sure it is.” He worked the cork out, allowing her to admire the amazing definition of his arms. “I’ll bet you’ve spent more time in this fucked-up house with its million-dollar view than you have in your own house since you listed it. I mean, you do opens, you refill sales brochures, you check on the lawn – what else? Tell me I’m wrong.” He pulled the cork free, splashed some golden liquid into each glass, and handed one to her. By the time he’d completed the task, Sara had made her way nearly six feet away from him.
“Baby, I don’t bite,” he said, holding out the glass to her.
She surged forward, as if to prove she wasn’t afraid, grabbing the glass as she passed.
“Thanks. Never had a happy hour at an open house.”


Sweat Equity
The Stewart Realty Series
Book 2
Liz Crowe

Genre:  Romance / Family Saga
Publisher:  Tri Destiny Publishing

Book Description:

Jack Gordon thought he’d finally made it. He had a wildly successful career, money in the bank and even returned to his life as Dom, putting an end to a string of unfulfilling sexual encounters. Now that he's made the ultimate commitment to Sara Thornton, he believes all is right in their world. However, a series of misunderstandings and a dose of self-fulfilling prophesy bring his perfectly crafted house of cards tumbling down around him, forcing him to confront lingering misgivings about marriage and trust. Could those be the only two things he can never achieve?

Sara struggles with her intense need for Jack and her desire for less volatility in her busy life, two goals which appear to be mutually exclusive. Although willing to put in the time and emotional effort to make their relationship work, she finds it futile and frustrating, littered with clashes thanks to near-identical personalities and temperaments. Given Sara’s history, easing back into the comfortable status quo becomes easier than fighting a war with the one person who should be her safe haven. But will the easier choice satisfy her the way only Jack can? Is her "war" one that comes from without or within?

Buffeted by circumstance, temptation and distraction, Jack and Sara’s tenuous relationship crumbles, sparking a continuous quest for the ever elusive: trust, love and acceptance. By the time they rebuild a foundation for renewal, fate has other plans. This leaves them both reeling, once again questioning their destiny.

Available at Amazon   BN   iTunes   Smashwords    Kobo



Sweat Equity Excerpt:

Jack watched his now ex-fiancée screech out onto the quiet street, sipped his bourbon and relished its slow lubrication of the horror at what had just happened. He sank back into the chair and glared at the fucked up still life of the condom and ring together on the table.
“Happiness Thwarted” he could call it, or even better, “In Which Jack Is a Dumb Ass.” The purple foil packets stacked next to the nearly twenty-thousand-dollar hunk of metal and compressed coal he’d put so much faith in just a few months ago.
“Goddamnit.” He swept the whole mess onto the floor. His usual method of instant spin control had abandoned him. He had nothing, remained a hollow shell, scraped clean, raw and pulsing like a six-foot five-inch exposed nerve ending.
The fucking condoms.
He’d left them there from over a year ago. From when he’d taken that crazy-ass blonde bitch of a client away for a weekend. The weekend she tried to convince him to marry her. But he’d already met Sara by then. So, he had fucked the woman six ways to Sunday then dropped her at her house, his mind and heart elsewhere.
Oh, the bitter irony of the situation did not escape him. Vegas had been fun, sure. He’d flirted like crazy and let some ladies buy him drinks but he went to bed alone every single night without a single qualm or regret. He hadn’t talked to Sara that week, but he’d been busy, serving on countless panels and attending dozens of stupid glad-handing receptions. When he wasn’t doing that he’d played Texas Hold ’em and lost his ass with gleeful abandon. He’d had his mind firmly fixed on the future. With Sara. He’d even entertained a pretty out-there fantasy of her beautiful body, swollen and full with their child.
“Oh fuck.” His face and eyes burned. His throat closed up. The room spun. He had to get her back.
How? Was he even worthy?
No, he wasn’t. But he didn’t care.
Jack got up, retrieved the expensive ring from the floor and set it on the front hall table with his other stuff. His heartbeat pounded at the sight of it. Anger followed close on the heels of despair. The house echoed with silence. He knew what he needed. Picking up his smart phone he quick dialed his friend, Suzanne.
“Hey, Jack, what’s up?”
“I need to talk.”
“Where are you?” The noise of her beer bar receded, so he assumed she must have walked into the brewery.
“Home. But I’m coming over. You gonna be there?”
“Well, I wasn’t, but I’ll stick around.” Silence spun out between them before she spoke again. “You did it, didn’t you?”
Jack dragged a hand through his hair. He knew exactly what she meant. “Yeah. I did.”
“Oh hell.” The ensuing silence deafened him. He trusted Suzanne more than he trusted just about anyone, except her business partner, who was currently on the West Coast at some beer conference. “C’mon over, you fucking idiot. I’ll buy you a beer.” Jack slumped against the wall, relieved to have somewhere to go, sick to his stomach and emptier than he’d ever felt in his entire life.

Closing Costs
The Stewart Realty Series
Book 3
Liz Crowe

Genre:  Romance / Family Saga
Publisher:  Tri Destiny Publishing

Book Description:

Love conquers all? Not likely, according to Sara Thornton. She's spent eight years coming to terms with the new parameters of her life while resigning herself to the idea that “happily ever afters” are best left to fairytales. Sales manager for her successful real estate office and juggling an added element of responsibility she never thought she'd face, Sara continues to struggle with the men in her life. Love, for her, has only meant hurt, broken trust and anger; all of which she’s completely banished from her life, so she claims.

Jack Gordon has come a long way since his early days of obsession with Sara. As the general manager of Stewart Realty, his own level of responsibility for the well-being of others has ramped up. He’s even honed his caretaking skills, now that he has someone who loves him unconditionally.

Continuing to invest effort and rebuild their relationship, he and Sara grow close as friends. Despite this, his ultimate question remains unanswered; the one he keeps asking, no matter how many times she says no. Sara isn't prepared for the keen focus of his need--to have her back, once and for all. Her stubborn resistance nearly rips both lives apart

The epic conclusion to The Realtors series, Closing Costs brings Jack and Sara truly full circle. Proving that the heat of lust and obsession; the need for control and to be mastered in many areas of life can lead to love —surprising you when you least expect it – if you will only allow it.

Available at   Amazon    BN    iTunes   Smashwords   Kobo


Closing Costs Excerpt:

Once Jack and Sara had eased back into a wary friendship, the entire Stewart Real Estate Company rejoiced because it meant fewer fraught upper management meetings. Jack Gordon was a hard-ass leader, tough, firm, driven and with high expectations of everyone around him. He had turned the brokerage around. But for almost a year he’d been impossible to work with – antsy, quick tempered, never seeming to leave the office even to sleep or eat except on Tuesdays and Thursdays – the days he had Kate at his house.
Their conversations lasted long into the night nearly three or four times a week and between sorting through work issues and discussing theories of raising a successful future woman, they’d drifted into more personal details.
“So…” she’d asked at one point, needing to know but dreading the answer at the same time. “Have you, um, moved on, like I told you to?”
“Since when do I do what you tell me?”
She’d shivered at the sound of his voice. It had compelled her in so many ways, for good and bad. She needed to hear it, like she needed to drink water.
“Never mind.”
“And you? Find a new boyfriend yet?”
“Yeah, in all my spare time, I’m out clubbing, picking up guys.”
“Well, there is the internet.”
“That’s sick. You gonna answer me?”
He sighed. “I’ve been down at the club again. Playing.” Sara shut her eyes.
“Why didn’t you ever take me there? I would’ve…”
He cut her off. “You weren’t ready and every time I thought you were, you’d scream at me to get the hell out of your life, if memory serves.”
“Yeah, I guess so. We sure are good at bad timing, aren’t we?”
“Uh huh. You, my dear, are the queen of overreaction. But I still love you.”
Her scalp had tingled and she snuggled down in the covers. “Don’t know why. I’m a real bitch, I hear.”
He chuckled and her thighs tightened at the sound. “You horny, baby? That what this is about?”
She’d bitten her lip. “You psychic?”
“Only as relates to you.”
“Good night Jack. See you tomorrow.”
“Wait – let’s have phone sex. It’ll be fun.”
It had been her turn to chuckle. “You are so…”
“Blue-balled? Seriously Sara. I may be messing around downtown but I don’t…I can’t…oh hell why am I telling you anyway. You’ll just gloat.”
“No, I won’t. Tell me.”
“Another time. When you’re on your knees, begging me.”
“Dream on.”
“No, you will be.”
She’d shuddered, her whole body on fire now with need for his hands, his lips, his voice. “Stop it.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
She’d sighed, realizing the hopelessness of her whole relationship with him.

  

About the Author: 
Amazon best-selling author, mom of three, Realtor, beer blogger, brewery marketing expert, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville currently living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.

Her early forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”). More recently she is garnering even more fans across genres with her latest novels, which are more character-driven fiction, while remaining very much “real life.”

With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and at times in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are unique and told with a fresh voice. The Liz Crowe backlist has something for any reader seeking complex storylines with humor and complete casts of characters that will delight, frustrate and linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.

Don’t ever ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.

Website       Beer, Books & More Blog    Facebook Fan Page





PRAISE FOR THE ORIGINAL STEWART REALTY TRILOGY

“The sizzling power of attraction and the sexiness of a take charge Alpha male attitude is incredibly written by this talented author.”-- Romancing The Book

“The chemistry felt between the characters is nothing short of electrifying.  I was struck by a range of emotions while reading this novel, I love a read that can toy with my emotions but not leave me feeling emotionally devastated!”-- Flirty and Dirty Book Blog

“This series, especially Sweat Equity, is emotional, hot and realistic. There are lots of break-ups and A LOT of make-ups. I urge readers to pick this book up, but only after reading the first book, Floor Times, in this amazing series. The cliffhanger in this book will make you want to throw your Kindle or paperback. But you will immediately rush to get the third book in this series.”-- Cocktails and Books

“Once again, kudos to Liz Crowe's writing on CLOSING COSTS for the happily ever after that was long coming for Jack and Sara. I found myself frustrated, anger and also teary-eyed because I just wanted to see them together and start living their life as a happy family. I truly loved this book even with all the complications of the lives of the characters but that is the beauty of it: It is so realistic that you can see it happening, unfolding right in front of your eyes.”-- The Romance Reviews

“Crowe's writing is so realistic and enjoyable, I found myself alternating between extreme frustration, tears and happiness. I literally could not put the book down and read it all in one sitting. This is a book I will read more than once.”— *Most Helpful Amazon Rated Review by Amazon User My Book Addiction and More

“I positively enjoyed this book, especially the characters, which were appealing and well-developed–and the writing which impressed me from the first page.”-- Guilty Pleasures Book Reviews

“What Worked
Just. About. Everything. That’s not to say life was beautiful all the time, but there wasn’t a single moment where I was upset with this read.”-- All Romance Reviews

“Be prepared to read non-stop as the adventure continues and leaves your jaw dropping for more. I 100% recommend this book that has left me anxiously waiting for the next installment. The characters are so amazing and well developed and the situations they experience evoke so much emotion. I could not stop reading this book because it was that addicting!!!”-- *Most Helpful Amazon Rated Review by Amazon User A_Carve


Read the rest of the series Available on Amazon -including an anthology that has Floor Time/Sweat Equity/Closing Costs all in one PLUS “House Rules” the Jack Gordon prequel.

ESSENCE OF TIME (Stand alone novel or book 4)
CONDITIONAL OFFER (book 5)
ESCALATION CLAUSE (book 6)
MUTUAL RELEASE (Stand alone novel or book 7)
GOOD FAITH (Stand alone “final” novel or book 8)
HOUSE RULES (The Jack Gordon Prequel)

***BONUS NEW COVER LOVE!***

Conditional Offer
The Craig & Suzanne Story

It is highly recommended that you read book 4 (Essence of Time) before this one.

Book Description:

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 simple, chance moment snaps Craig's hazy existence into crystal-clear focus. A bond of instant physical attraction, nurtured by time and shared experience, and plenty of erotic energy, is born.

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.

Conditional Offer Excerpt:

"Hey," Suzanne said, looking up from her laptop. "What's up?"
Craig gulped, stuck his hands in his suit trouser pockets. His voice seized up, his throat felt as dry as a bone. He took a look at her, her small frame encased in jeans and a brewery tee shirt, tendrils of dark red hair curled around her neck. He was more consumed with nervousness. She looked up at him again, her gaze neutral and expectant, polite.
"I, uh, thought I'd take you up on the brewery tour offer. You know if you're not busy."
He suppressed an inward groan at how incredibly lame that sounded.
 "Never mind." He sank into a bar stool across from where she stood behind the bar.
She shut the computer, leaned on her elbows and smiled at him. His heart skipped a beat. Typically, a hot woman would intrigue him, make him want to flirt, impress and ultimately seduce. Suzanne brought out a completely new feeling in him – one he didn't understand and that scared him practically shitless. But he’d come here again, unable to stop himself.
"Here." She handed him a beer and walked away. He was mesmerized by the sway of her hips but tried to force his usual A-game down under a layer of chivalry. One thing he'd never been around women was tongue-tied. Yet, there he was, smiling, and slamming down half the beer she slid across the bar at him while she talked with the bar manager and put all her stuff away.
She glanced at him once, a puzzled look in her eyes. He shrugged, smiled and forced his eyes up to the television and away from her.
After about fifteen minutes of messing around behind the bar, chatting with other customers and other diversions, she was back in front of him, leaning in, way too close for his comfort. He sat back, sipped and tried to ignore her.
"And so," she said, sipping her own beer. "A tour, huh?"
"Yeah, well, you mentioned it last time and I thought…." He heard his voice trail off, and started to stand and leave—anything to escape the horror of his lame-ass behavior. But he couldn't. Not when she leveled that intense gaze at him. He had to clench his fists to stop himself from touching her hair, from pressing his lips to that sweet spot just near her ear. He blinked.
"Um sorry? What did you say?"
She leaned her head back and laughed, making him tingle all over.
 "I said, you adorable thing you, if you want a tour, then follow me."
 She lifted the service arm and came out from behind the bar. He sat back, unsure what to do now, but wanting more than anything to follow her wherever she went. Something about her was so compelling, so tempting and so right. He smiled, and grabbed his glass.
She stepped into the brewery, holding up the superficial chain barrier between it and the Tap Room. He ducked under and listened as she launched into what was obviously a well-practiced spiel. He sipped, looked around, and pointed to a glass jar of small candies.
 "Hey, are those M&Ms?" He walked over to a tall, makeshift worktable.
She followed him putting her hand over his when he started to take the lid off the giant container.
 "No, Reese's Pieces." He looked at her, loving the feel of her palm on his hand. "They're mine. I'm an addict." She shrugged and stepped away.
"So give me the real story here Suzanne. I mean, you guys are successful, rolling in dough, expanding twice inside ten years. All is great?" He lifted the lid and scooped a handful of the peanut butter candies.
She sighed and held out her hand. He put one chocolate covered morsel in it. She glared at him, ate it, and seemed to relax, for the first time since he'd arrived, dropping her façade of business woman in control. He stood close to her, held out his hand and gave her a few more candies.
"It sucks sometimes, but I wouldn't do anything else. I love it."
"It sucks. And you love it," he repeated, crunching down on the chocolate peanut butter morsels. "Damn I haven't had these in years. I forgot how good they are."
"I know," she said, holding her hand. "So, Craig, why are you here, really? You obviously don't give a shit about my standard brewery tour."
He seized up a half a second, then pushed away from the table and grabbed more candy from the jar.
 "How do you work here anyway? With these damn things around all the time…Jesus." He popped a few more in his mouth.
She joined him, perched on a backless stool nearly right under his arm. He started to move away from her, but then didn't. She put the lid back on the jar.
 "I have to keep it stocked, that's the only rule. Because I eat the most of them, I guess. You gonna answer my question, or what?"
He draped his arm around her shoulder and they munched on candy like little kids.
 "I came to see you," he said suddenly, needing her to know.
"I figured," she said, leaning her head on his shoulder. "I'm glad you did."


Coming soon:

NET WORTH (Good Faith sequel)

EXCLUSIVE AGENCY (The Sara/Blake Thornton Prequel)




Tour Giveaway:
1 $25 Amazon gift card 
2 audiobook (Audible) downloads of Floor Time 
1 set containing one copy of each of the three books in the series (winner’s choice of formats – mobi, ePub, PDF) 
a Rafflecopter giveaway