Don't Blow Your WCL

In retrospect, the last 2 weeks of frantic Olympic games (including the kind played at the athlete's village) have really spurred me to re-dedicate myself to my own physical appearance. I mean, I have been staring at the amazing bodily perfection (you know, for research) that emerges from the pool/kicks the winning goal/wins the race/spikes the volleyball so long I forget that I don't look like that!

I'm proud to say I've been in the hot yoga room for 4 days straight and am hungry at regular intervals--a good sign for me. If I remember to let myself "get hungry" I'm usually not doing my usual mindless eating while staring at a writing or editing project.

Those incredibly toned and fit athletes don't get that way overnight. And it also has me thinking about how we, as writers, have to continuously exercise our creative muscle in order to hone it properly.  I'm in the 3rd year of my own publishing journey and only just now feel like I have hit a nice striding pace.  You may or may not know that I am a Marathoner. Oh no...no...not the crazy kind that RUNS for 26 miles at one time. oh heavens no.

I am a writing marathoner.  I get an idea, lately for continuations of my various existing series or novels, do a little head writing (usually in the Bikram yoga room to distract me from the agony), then sit and write. And write. And write. Typically pushing through with one story until the damn thing is done.

For example, the 4th novel of the best selling Stewart Realty series, Essence of Time is a near 100k word, 4-part book that I began sitting on the verandah of the Hotel Galvez in Galveston, Texas on a short-notice, mental health spring break trip that I took on a total spur of the moment whim for reasons some of you know. I knew I had to write Rob and Blake's story. I also knew how it would end (no spoilers). I began it on the plane, got nearly 45k into after the end of the week, and finished it the following weekend.  The words truly do clang around in my head and have to get OUT otherwise I go insane.

Now, I'm not necessarily advocating this method. My family dreads it when I go into this mode. It translates to cereal dinners, unwalked dogs and many more chores for them.  But it's my way, and I don't know that I will ever change it.  It's my "boot camp"ultra P90X super duper form of exercise for my personal writing muscle. And that puppy is nice and strong right now---I keep it that way, so I don't blow it out, like an overworked, undertrained runner, left to writhe on the track, with a knee blown all to hell.

Exercise that muscle! Don't Blow your Writer Crucial Ligament!

So speaking of writing....My latest release, a first for me from Ellora's Cave, is Lust on Tap!  Check it out!
Blurb: 
When brewery owner Dustin Prufrock meets sexy saleswoman Helena Turner, sparks fly—angry sparks. They seem destined to clash, until a hot hookup in a cold beer cooler changes everything.

For Dustin, it’s a life-changing moment that sets him on a path away from his birthright, while Helena faces her fears about committing to a man considered the playboy of the microbrewing world. The power of preconceived notions nearly tears them apart—until they meet up with Dustin’s friend Erik, who provides an erotic and emotional connection that completes them all.

But fate has different plans. When Dustin is forced to honor his responsibilities as heir to a large business, Helena and Erik are thrown together in an attempt to run Dustin’s brewery. Now the strength and trust of their once-balanced threesome has been shattered…and mutual lust might not be enough to keep them all together.

Buy it here (and read the excerpt)! http://www.jasminejade.com/p-10265-lust-on-tap.aspx

AND.....check my fun and oh so very very HAWT "deleted scene" over at Jayne Kingston's blog today! WARNING! MAN LOVE THAT WILL MELT YOUR FILLINGS! 

http://www.jaynekingston.com/2012/08/guest-author-liz-crowe.html

So that's me, late, but here, on my assigned blog date!

cheers

Liz

me and couple of ...fans....some lovely young men I met at a beer festival...last year. Ah Beer Wench thou art naughty. 

Red Stilettos Contest!

I’m celebrating the print release of my newest Ellora’s Cave title, RED STILETTOS with a new contest. The anthology includes my story Head Over Heels, plus Whirlwind Affair by Francesca Hawley, Dear Sexy Lexie by Ashlyn Chase and Bad, Bad Girlfriend by Delilah Devlin.

The rules are listed on my website home-page and all you have to do is follow them to be entered in the drawing. And for those of you who comment today some lucky person will be receiving a download of IOU, my short story that’s part of the Carnal Reunions anthology with Resplendence Publishing.

RED STILETTOS:

A New Year’s Day auction and a pair of legendary red stilettos guaranteed to bring the wearer their heart’s desire have four friends pooling their money to take a chance on love. Here’s a blurb and excerpt from Bella’s story, the heroine of Head Over Heels.

Height-challenged Bella Jacienski literally falls head over magic red stilettos into sexy philanthropist’s Rhys Vincent’s arms and wonders if the legend attached to the shoes is true. Has she found her heart’s desire, a passionate, lust-crazed lover who wants only her¬—always?

Rhys can’t keep his big hands off the curvy shopkeeper. Her smile captivates him and her lush body has him behaving totally out of character. Heated glances and sizzling touches turn into a hot office interlude and wild break-the-bed sex that only make him want her more. She thinks the shoes are magic but Rhys knows that Bella is all the magic he needs.

Excerpt:

Rhys Vincent ground his back teeth and took Veronica Smith–Hathaway’s elbow as they crossed the street. It was snowing and not for the first time did he wish he were wearing boots instead of dress shoes with his tux. Ronnie didn’t seem to notice the puddle that soaked her designer heels or the frigid wind that tore at the edges of her flimsy black evening coat. Neither had been designed for January in Kansas City.
Veronica—Ronnie—was his best friend Brian’s estranged wife. She had insisted she knew a shop that had the fedora they needed to complete the scavenger-hunt list—right after he’d politely refused her offer to give him the best sex of his life. Was it too much to ask for a woman who didn’t have an agenda to want to have sex with him? He’d been down the revenge-sex path years ago and it was one he didn’t want to take with a woman he’d known for twenty years.

He’d promised Brian that he’d keep an eye on her and that meant he couldn’t very well let her walk around alone in the Crossroads art district after dark.
As CEO of the Vincent Foundation, he’d put Veronica in charge of the annual event as a favor. One he was coming to regret. He was still trying to figure out why Brian was so worried about a wife he’d clearly been neglecting for the past year when Ronnie leaned over and peered into a dimly lit shop.

“There it is,” she hissed, pointing at a weathered brown fedora, jauntily perched on a torso mannequin’s head. Before he could figure out why she was hissing, he glanced through the window, started to shout and everything went into slow motion.

He saw a pair of curvy legs that ended in sexy red spike heels leaning forward and overbalancing a rickety ladder. The bell over the door jangled as he pushed it open and sprinted three full strides. He reached her before she finished screaming.

“She” was an armful of black and white fluff he grabbed and swept out of the way as the ladder fell.

Maybe he couldn’t breathe because she’d smacked him square in the chest but he didn’t think so. Although it could have been because her arms were wrapped solidly around his neck, as if she didn’t intend to let go anytime soon. Fine by him.

He didn’t know if she was shocked that he’d caught her or because she knew the shudder that rippled through her like a faint orgasm had telegraphed its way into his fingertips. She looked like a naughty fairy-tale princess with big blue eyes. A fall of silky dark hair brushed the top of her black turtleneck and her creamy cheeks were flushed as bright as an apple. She knew.

Have a safe and happy Labor Day weekend and until next month,
Happy Reading!
Paris