Tribute To Fathers

Happy Father's Day!

In romance books, we authors tend to overlook the role of fatherhood, or in my case, give them the short end of the stick. In my first book Love is Sober (soon to be retitled Love On The Rocks), I was having an issue with a female neighbor and channeled my anger at her by creating a very dominating father....' When my dad read the book, he jokingly said to me, "Let's talk about this control-freak you created in Con Keller..." I was quick to reassure him he had NOT been the role model for the character!

In Love Finds A Way, the father is not thrilled with his daughter's choice of boyfriend. But when she shows her maturity and proves her plan will work, he is (reluctantly) supportive. And in my upcoming Forbidden Love, I have three fathers depicted: Mike, Keri's father, is thrilled to have a daughter following in his footsteps; Eric, Keri's step-father, who has a very good relationship with both step-children and is loving and supportive of their career choices; and Kyle, the love of Keri's life, who spends as much time with his young son as his vindictive ex-wife will let him.

As far as Kenzie's stories go, fathers are also depicted across the spectrum. In All She Ever Wanted, Clint Denton is Victor Newman personified. He schemes and manipulates his only son in order to run his life.

In Wild At Heart, I have the kind and loving Dad in both Neil Nichols and Gavin Granger. They keep an eye on Ethan and Emma, but only interfere when necessary.

And in my ever-upcoming Teacher's Pet, Tammy's deceased husband was not-so-nice, but thankfully Kevin Tayler proves to be step-father material.

As a tribute to the loving and caring fathers out there, here's my favorite scene from Wild At Heart, in which Gavin, who treats Emma like a daughter, invites the entire Nichols clan into his home. I hope you find this as humorous as I do:)

Blurb:

Feb- Decided to change my pen name on these so my younger audience wouldn't be shocked by any inapropriate language/situations. My new Pen Name is Kenzie Daniels. Both Wild at Heart and Head of the Class are geared more toward the 18+ age group.

Angela Clayborn has just discovered Steve Blumenthal, the man she sent to prison nearly two years before, has been granted an early release. Torn between wanting to see him and fearful if she does, sparks fly when Steve Blumenthal appears in her gift shop and later at her condo. Will Angie free her heart from its icy prison? Has Steve really turned his life around, or is it a hoax?

Meanwhile, in Colorado on business, Angie’s current boyfriend, Brad Morrison, is wrestling with his own call of the wild. He’s met unconventional, sexy Emma Nichols, who runs not only her own riding stable, but helps out with her family’s woodworking store in EstesPark. Emma resents Brad’s offer to help during a family crisis, but eventually discovers that Fate sometimes sends people down unexpected paths to love. Can Brad tame a wildcat? Or will Emma settle for the safe path?

Buy link:

https://www.xoxopublishing.com/shop-online/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=12&products_id=107

Excerpt:

"The rain’s here, and Ethan called. He’s going to be slightly late, but he’ll be here.”

“That’s good.” Gavin munched on celery stick. “Your mother brought rabbit food with her.”

“It’s good for you,” Janet Nichols retorted from the kitchen. “You said so yourself you’d had steak two days in a row. And probably not many vegetables.”

“I ate plenty at the ranch the other night,” Gavin grumbled. “Meddling women. Give me good Buffalo wings or fried onions? No…they’ve got to force me to eat this shit. That’s why I stay single. Remember that, Brad.”

“I didn’t observe Emma forcing any healthy food down your throat,” Brad joined him at the table, greeting Emma’s parents.

“She’s young enough to know better than to pull that on me.”

Emma joined her mother in the kitchen. “When you have your heart attack, I’ll be right there by your side, making you eat right…or I’ll have Nora do it.”

“I’m too ornery to have a heart attack.” Gavin stood up as Nora entered, carrying several pie containers. “Now there’s a sensible woman. Brings me pie.” He reached for the containers and got his hand slapped.

“They’re for after dinner,” she scolded, and joined Janet in the kitchen. “It’s starting to really pour out there. I hope Ethan and Lori make it.”

“Lori?” Neil raised his eyebrows.

“The therapist,” Gavin returned to the table. “I told her to come around four-thirty.”

“Good idea. Eat first, alienate Ethan second,” Emma said, helping herself to a beer and offering one to Brad. She joined the men at the table and munched on a carrot. “Need any help, Mom?”

“Now honey, I’ve told you. Stay out of my kitchen, and I’ll stay out of your stable,” Nora admonished.

Brad laughed. “I take it you don’t cook?”

“I can too…I do a very good microwave,” Emma said, reddening. “And I can make a few things.”

Neil coughed. “I don’t think hot dogs count as cooking, sweetheart.”

“I can also make a good meatloaf.”

“She and Hamburger Helper are good friends, Brad,” Nora winked at him.

“Ooh! I get no respect in this house!”

Gavin patted her hand. “Stick with me, kid. I like your meatloaf.”

“At least someone appreciates me.” Emma glared at Nora.

“She does a mean take-out, also,” Gavin added.

“Okay, ha ha. I get it,” Emma grabbed her beer and stormed over to the fireplace. “It’s pick on Emma day.”

“No, honey, it’s called warning the boyfriend that you can’t cook,” Gavin laughed. “See Brad? She and Nora are a package deal.”

Like what you're reading? Buy it at

http://xoxopublishing.com/shop-online/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=12&products_id=107

Or on Kindle:

http://www.amazon.com/Wild-at-Heart-ebook/dp/B004GEAOK2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG5\
6TWVU5XWC2&s=digital-text&qid=1308322926&sr=1-1

Guest Blog:Toni V. Sweeney: Entertainment vs. Social Commentary - Translating a Regency Novel into Science Fiction

Recently, my editor commented on my current novel she was reading, “It sounds more like a Victorian novel…”

Attentive lady! I intended it that way. Whereas the first novel, Three Moon Station, was considered a “futuristic Western,” being set on a station (or ranch) on a pioneer planet where the people lived like mid-18th century Terrans, The Finer Gentleman is set on the planet Arcanis, where society is presently in a Regency-Victorian frame of mind though their technological advancements are miles ahead into the future.

I meant it that way. I like Regency stories, and I like Westerns, so put them together, toss in a futuristic setting, stir well, and…

Wanting to show the hero’s reaction to a place in complete opposition to where he’s grown up and lived all his life, I felt a time period encompassing mid-18th century England was the right one. Taking an individual from one culture and plunking him down in another has been done before…look at Gulliver’s Travels or Visit to a Small Planet or that wonderful but short lived TV series, Hard Time on Planet Earth. Practically any SF story featuring an alien (think of Mr. Spock’s deadpan criticisms of Earth—that single raised eyebrow could speak volumes!) makes a commentary on life on Earth. I wasn’t writing a satire but decided to employ this satirist’s staple to point out the foibles and failings of the Arcanian society. And believe me, it definitely has a lot of failings!

OK. Got my characters, got my situation, got a plot. I was on my way…somewhat…

Taking a quote from Marcus Aurelius, “He would be the finer gentleman that should leave the world without having tasted of lying or pretence of any sort, or of wantonness or conceit,” I asked the question: Exactly what’s going to happen to my hero? Like the Old West, Tritomis-2 is a primitive place. Men carry guns to protect their property and their families. They have computers and drones to fly from place-to-place in emergencies, but otherwise, they use horses and wagons. They ride into the little town, Zero, on a Saturday night and head for Larkin’s Saloon, to drink and let off steam…and above all, they say what they think and treat everyone as equals.

Got it! It’s going to involve more than a little chaos at the ol’ homestead…namely, Craigsmere Manor, as Sar barges into the kitchen to prepare his homesick wife’s breakfast and then invites the cook to share it; the servants are scandalized when he breaks down Katy’s bedroom door because the idea of a married couple having separate bedrooms is “just plain crazy!” And when he meets the king?
Who would think His Majesty would enthusiastically indulge in a drinking contest and even break out some illegal cigars for the occasion? Enthralled by his new cousin, the Margrave of Arcanis joins Sar in guzzling Scotch whiskey until both men are so snockered they have to hold each other upright in the reception line…while the Margravine looks on with a disapproving eye.

Back to the main idea… If you’re doing a commentary on society, that society has to have problems.

So what’s the matter with Arcanian society? Plenty! Plain and simple, they’re now hypocrites. Once a barbaric people, guzzling mead and gaining property by sword as they marauded about the countryside, they’re currently on the upswing of the pendulum. They’ve become civilized!So civilized they’re now complete prudes, hypocritical in their public natures…hedonistic in their private ones. A pregnant woman is expected to stay at home, hidden away until she gives birth, that very condition so forbidden to even mention that a physician hesitates to speak of it to the lady’s husband—and Sar certainly plies his own with pointed questions on the subject, while that learned gentleman turns red and stammers his answers. Yet this same gentleman may be found at the local tavern with a barmaid on his lap after he closes his offices for the way. Arcanians have fantastic sex lives, but don’t expect to get one to admit it. For a man to declare himself in love with his wife is a scandal, as Sar discovers that when he’s invited to the local Pleasure Dome and gets laughed at when he refuses. His reason: “I’m a happily married man.” His friend’s answer: “So are all the other men who go there!”

All very…dare we say it… Victorian?

Having read the Inspector Pitt and Thomas Monk series of mystery novels written by Anne Perry, which are loaded with historical facts and background—and if reading them doesn’t raise your 21st century hackles, nothing will!—I was all too aware of the double-nature of that period of history, and I felt transposing it to the aristocratic society on another planet would do what I wished perfectly. Now I was really into the story, contrasting the life Sar had left—a friendly, down-to-earth, equality-laden pioneering community much like the mid-18th century Mid-West, with the hypocritical, repressed, and at the same time thoroughly sensual and libertinistic lives of the aristocrats whom he’s now expected to emulate. They considered themselves “gentleman” by right of birth but laugh at Sar, who’s a gentleman because he was raised that way.

The continuing battle between mores and morals.

Sar ends up in big trouble, mainly because of his trusting nature, and…because he’s a gentleman…a gentle man, and, in that sense, also a trusting one, wishing to see the good in his fellow men…and women. It’s that very gentle nature which will earn him the title of “the Finer Gentleman” before he’s through with the Arcanians, for Sar truly lives up to Marcus Aurelius’ criteria.

The Finer Gentleman is available from Class Act Books, http://www.classactbooks.com/The-Finer-Gentleman-by-Icy-Snow-Blackstone-Trade-_p_297.html

Researching for fun facts

I’m a research junkie. Love, love, love digging. Pride myself on researching each book I write, CAREFULLY, and so far I’ve had no objections from fans or reviewers. Cross my fingers on keeping it tup. What’s more, I thoroughly enjoy researching. I did more research before writing Spies and Roses than any of my other books. Although I don’t start any book until I’ve researched the time period, whether a true historical or not. The year is 1815, right before the battle of Waterloo. The hero and heroine have a hard time agreeing on anything, but together they must decipher a coded message to save Wellington’s life. The battle of Waterloo fascinated me and I’ve included the battle scene in the ending. Now I’m waiting to see if anyone disagrees with any of the details. Also had to learn about codes, since the hero has to break the critical code in order to save Wellington. Codes are fascinating, but hard for me to make one up that worked. Fortunately I have a mathematical son who helped me.
Sometimes I jot down a few lines to suggest the opening scene but no serious writing until I get anchored in the mood of the period. Clothing, current events, etc. For Love is New, my first historical romance is set in the same time period. The time is 1814-1815, and that book is all about the gorgeous heroine and handsome hero trying to foil the wicked villain. And boy, is that villain wicked. He’s not only trying to help Napoleon escape from Elba, he’s sadistic. You’ll purely hate him.

Every nuance of any book has to be accurate or a reader will let you know. I found myself completely fascinated by the complex character of Napoleon, in fact I’ve just been checking a book stating that Napoleon’s hemorrhoids were responsible for the disastrous delay of the final battle of Waterloo. According to this account pain kept him from mounting his horse and so he spent hours reviewing his troops on foot in hopes he’d feel better. This gave Wellington badly needed time to join forces with his allies and possibly allowed him to win the battle. Certainly Napoleon fled the scene in a carriage, not his horse. Interesting to speculate, isn’t it, and an example of what fascinating stuff you can find when you start digging.

Another interesting thing about Napoleon is how differently he’s viewed. I have a French friend who thinks he’s the greatest hero France ever produced, so I tred carefully around her.

My Druid and Mage books all required extensive research into mythology and history and the powers these fantastic people were alleged to possess. My characters in the Mage books are direct descendants of Merlin and Lady of the Lake and inherit their powers. In the first series the Druids are descendants of a Druid priestess, in the Mage series from Merlin. I’m just finishing book eight in the Mage series tentatively named Double Love and each of those series books has been wonderful fun. Three of this series are due out yet this year from Passion in Print.

But I LOVE reading and writing historicals. I’ve definitely got one or two churning in my mind right now. One has a little leeway in paranormal books, but in historicals you must stick strictly to the facts. Easy to put my rather active imagination into the sex scenes, so I can let loose there.. Weaving the details of the clothing, mind-set, atmosphere is always fun. Would love to know what you think, so here’s a sample from Spies and Roses.

Don't have the cover for it yet, so will use the cover for Love is New.

"Josh reached a decision while she twisted the button on his coat. Unfortunately, most unfortunately, his annoying wife was right. If he could pass this trip off as a honeymoon he’d have a much better chance of reaching Wellington. He looked at her beguiling face, the face becoming so dear to him, and hesitated. Could he take a chance with her life, even to save Wellington? But might she be in more danger if he left her behind?
Sara saw the indecision on his face and moved in adroitly.
“I’ll follow your every instruction, Josh. Only let me go with you. I know I can help.”
From the tiny smile at the corner of her expressive mouth, he could tell she knew he was weakening. He mentally threw up his hands.
“Just a moment, my girl. I want you to know exactly what you’re proposing. If we go to Brussels as newlyweds on an ecstatic honeymoon, I’ll expect you to act accordingly. I’ll caress you in public, you will hang on my every word, and you’ll sleep in my bed at night. Every night. There will be no separate accommodations for a couple in love and newly wedded. I serve you notice that under those circumstances, I can’t promise to keep my vow not to force you.”
He couldn’t interpret the look on her face. It wasn’t the horror he’d expected, although she seemed a little surprised. She’d not thought this through, then. With thrilling satisfaction he saw she was not repulsed.
She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes.
“I accept your terms, my lord. All of them.”
He reached for her again and buried his face in her curls. Carrying her to her bed was only the beginning of his desire. Even drained as he was, he wanted to bury himself in her warm body and find the peace he’d not known since she invaded his life. He thought she’d submit to him. Vulnerable tonight, she’d try to please him.
He did not want to take her in such a manner. She must come to him because she wanted him.
He straightened.
“If we didn’t have to leave so early I’d do much more than give you a goodnight kiss. You tempt me unbearably, Sara, but for this one more night I’ll honor my word. Don’t count on any more.”
He folded her in his arms with a fervor he’d not previously allowed himself. He kissed her more deeply than ever, molding her hips flush against him so she had no doubt of his desire. He touched her lips with his tongue and when she opened to him plunged in with a rhythm forecasting the way he wanted to invade her body. She let him do as he willed, and he plundered her mouth, marveling at her sweetness and uninhibited fire. Reveling in the knowledge she was breathing as hard as he, Josh finally lifted his head, and smiled down at her.
“You’re a child from hell sent to sway me from the path I should take. I’m powerless to resist you once you’re near.” His voice grew serious as he held her eyes with his. “Take warning, wife. We will be thrown together in great intimacy if you insist on going with me.”
She lifted her head, her voice husky, conveying at the same time both defiance and pleasure.
“I want to go with you,” she said.
He was a weaker man than he’d thought. Even though he was taking her into danger, he rejoiced she’d be with him.
He set her from him abruptly.
“We must be on the road before five in the morning. I wish to make Canterbury by evening, and leave Dover on the morning tide. Since we’ll be on our honeymoon, we’ll be entertained in Brussels. Take as many clothes as you deem necessary, but you’d better pack tonight. Leave instructions for your maid to waken you.”
His tone curt, he turned and strode to his own room. He was going to have hell’s own time trying to keep his lustful hands off her. Especially if she looked at him with those huge passionate eyes."

Guest Blog: Barbara Westbrook: Is Procrastination Driving You Crazy?

If something's hard to do, then it's not worth doing.” ~ Homer Simpson

By far, the best part about procrastination is that you are never bored, because you have all kinds of things that you should be doing. As a matter of fact, I’m right in the middle of not doing something I should be doing right now, because I should be working on my newest book that I just started. The poor thing has been calling my name for an hour or so now, and I’ve been working very hard to ignore it.

Sometimes it’s not hard for me to get to work—these are the early days usually when I have a great idea and I just can’t wait to get it put down on paper. (these days don’t come around often enough, sadly) But if I don’t have a clear idea in mind, or if the weather outside is just too pretty, or there is something really good on TV…you get the picture. It’s all too easy to just put it off for a little while.

Then the guilt sets in. And the self-doubt. There is a silly little commercial on TV for a breakfast product in which a little girl is in a spelling contest and dancing around her is Mean Old Self Doubt chanting “You don’t know it!” You can’t do it!”

How well I know the feeling, Little Girl! What an annoying little twerp. So is there anything we can we do about procrastination? What would that be? Is there an answer?

Let's start with the standard advice. You've heard all these trite little aphorisms before: Just Do It (If I could “Just Do It” I wouldn’t be sitting here, arranging all my paper clips into order by size and color)

Break the unwanted task into smaller tasks (Like what? Write one paragraph? Which I will then sit and stare at it until it looks like untalented, no good garbage—which the little dancing twerp has been trying to tell me all along)

Do the hard task first (it’s all hard)

Reward yourself – blah, blah, blah…(by the way, this is definitely NOT my problem—I am very good to myself all the time—these tight jeans I have on are mute testament to that)

You've probably read about the so-called reasons why we procrastinate: It's a mechanism to deal with stress. (The stress is caused by my not getting to work!)

You do not want to do it (well, duh).

You have no interest in the task (no kidding?)

Your fears are holding you hostage (Well, that and the Ghost Hunters Marathon on SciFi channel).

Perfectionism (Have you seen my house today? Hmmm, not so much)

So what is the answer? I’m not sure I have the answer. (if I had that kind of power over time and space, I can assure you I wouldn’t be sitting here, not writing my novel) For me, it’s trying to get rid of the distractions. Turning off the TV, the phone and not even trying to go online “just for a minute to check emails.” Then I tell myself, just write for about 30 minutes, and see how it goes. Usually I get caught up in the storyline in that time, and I keep going. If not, I get up and try again later. I’ll always come back to it eventually, because I’m OCD like that.

To misquote Jonathan Winters just a little bit, “I couldn't wait for motivation, so I went ahead without it.” What about you? Do you have any tricks up your sleeve? What do you do when your muse has taken a hike?

The witty Dorothy Parker once said, “Live, drink, be merry, love the reeling midnight through, For tomorrow ye may die, but alas we never do.”

BIO:
Barbara is happily married and the mother of four children. She has a degree from Berry College in English and currently teaches literature and writing. She has lived in Europe, and traveled extensively all her life. In addition to writing, she loves to paint landscapes in oils and acrylics.

Her favorite reads are Historical Romance, Paranormal Romance and Romantic Suspense. Her novel, Standing on Stolen Ground is a unique combination of all these genres. Born in Virginia, Barbara heard stories about the Shenandoah Mountains
all her life, and her new novel is set in this beautiful area.She has done
extensive research on the area, and her mother, now 97 years old, used to tell her fascinating stories about her childhood in this lovely area of Virginia.

Barbara is from Georgia, and also has a home in the North Carolina mountains, near Sapphire NC.

There will be two more novels in this series based in the Shenandoah Mountains. The series is called Brides of the Blue Ridge.

BLURB: Standing on Stolen Ground (Historical Romance)

The year is 1934. In the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia Lila Bruce, a young woman nearing the age when she might be called an "old maid" marries handsome Joe Jenkins, a man she has loved since she was a young girl.

He’s made it clear to her that this is a marriage of convenience, but she still has hopes that she can somehow make him love her. Their lovemaking is passionate and steamy, right from the start, but Lila can't connect with his heart.

Their lives threatened by forces beyond their control, they share an absolute passion, but can they find love before it’s too late? Set against a backdrop of conflict and danger, this is a novel of great love and great courage.

Wow...It got up to 80 degrees today...

Summer is almost showing its face...

And I am still waiting for my editor's final decision on whether to contract my latest wip.  Got fingers and toes as well as my eyes crossed...but I have started on another one just in case.

My sequel to Hallie's Cats is almost finished. I am working on fleshing it out and adding more detail. 

All in all, I definitely think my muse has returned from her sabbatical, and is willing to work now. Thank heaven! It's been a long, dry twelve months. I never thought I'd get out of that rut I buried myself in. U-u-g-l-y!

I want to stop being envious when all my pals announce a new contract or a new release. The only way to accomplish that is to get my fanny in gear and not give up again. So here I go, jumping back onto the merry-go-round. This time, I won't reach so far out for the brass ring, and maybe I can stay in that slippery old saddle, instead of turfing it.  

Come on summer...and let's see how many wips I can pump out of this old computer before September.

Hugs,

Fran Lee

http://www.franleeromance.com

Summer

It’s my favorite season of the year. I need warmth and sunshine to fuel my soul. I love spending time on my pool deck or floating around on a raft in the pool. It took us longer than usual to get the pool cleaned this year and while the hot and humid temperatures past to cooler, rainy days, I’m sure the warm weather will return.
June is a busy month in our house with three birthdays in the family and Father’s Day. It also brings the end of the school year, which is an added bonus for me. No more rushing to get the daughter off to school. Now I’ll have an extra hour to myself. Woo Hoo!
This summer I’m hoping to finish my wips. One is about 4-5k away from being finished. The other needs another 10k or so. No pressure this summer for me.
The DH and I are planning more day trips then long vacations this summer. After reading the blog posts over at Penelope’s Romance Reviews yesterday I have some fun ideas for trips. If you want to learn more about New England drop over and see all the great posts.
One thing we always do is take in a few Red Sox games. That will still happen. ;o)
What are your plans for the summer?
My newest release is a summer read: Chasing Forever available now from Ellora’s Cave.

Blurb:

Jordyn has longed to make her relationship with best friend Diego more than platonic. Her body drips with need to know what it would feel like to have his lips kissing every inch of her skin. Desire to wrap her legs around his waist and plunge into deep waters with him fills her every dream.

Diego is one with the ocean. His passion is surfing and chasing that ultimate wave. He doesn’t have time for a relationship. Or does he?

A storm is brewing and when a tragedy occurs, Diego and Jordyn need to decide if they’re both chasing the same dreams.

An Excerpt From: CHASING FOREVER

Copyright © AMBER SKYZE, 2011

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Chapter One



Jordyn sat on the beach towel watching Diego riding out the waves. Her pulse raced. He knew he shouldn’t be out there. Hurricane Ivan was heading inland and the weatherman had warned of the dangerous undertow. She’d attempted to chase a few waves, but once she’d swum a few yards she knew it was a mistake. She’d quickly swum back to shore and waited while her best friend tried to prove he was smarter than the ocean.

The waters had turned mean and ugly over the last twenty minutes and the sky was an ominous gray. The hurricane was moving closer. A breeze came in off the water and a chill passed through her body. She’d unzipped her wet suit down to her waist, exposing her bikini top when she exited the water. She should cover up again in case the rains poured down.

She scanned the waters. Someone on a Jet Ski buzzed around, stopping every so often to take some pictures. She hoped he would keep away from the jagged rocks. The razor-sharp rocks were Jordyn’s bigger fear with Diego being out on the water. One wrong move and a wave could drag him under and throw him against the rocks, ending his life.

Jet skis were prohibited at any time on this part of the beach, but it didn’t stop them, especially on a day like today. They’d swarm around the surfers—in this case, just Diego—hoping to get a great shot of him nailing a thirty-foot wave.

Hopefully that’s all he catches.

She scanned the beach looking for any other fools. People with cameras hoping to click the ideal picture of the perfect storm peppered the sand.

“Dumbasses,” she muttered. What did that make her? She was on the beach too. Why had she allowed Diego to convince her this was a good idea?

“Because I’m a fool too.” She buried her foot in the sand and watched how the tiny particles glided between her toes. If she was smart she’d grab her board, jump in her Jeep and hightail it back to her place. Common sense flew out the window when it came to Diego, because she was head over heels in love with him.

Too bad he doesn’t feel the same. He loved her like a sister he’d said a few too many times, especially on drunken occasions.

If she’d had a nickel for all the times he’d said, “If you weren’t like a sister to me, I’d fuck you.”

How her pussy moistened with the thought. A few times she’d been tempted to sock him one and other times she’d wanted to tackle him and show him the woman inside waiting for him to fill that void deep within.

Instead she’d sat back and waited.

Ah, Summer!

Never mind that the calendar says summer doesn't officially begin until the 21st, it's well and truly here in Michigan, with record temperatures last week, the kids out of school, and the sound of lawnmowers being the first thing I hear on the weekends. After adding on to the house last year, we are currently without a deck, which is sad, as I love to sit outside. The husband and I spent this weekend taking wood from the old deck to build a small platform to hold the barbecue, pending the construction of a new deck later in the summer. I also found temporary homes for some of our chairs, so at least now there's a place to sit. Mind you, I'm loving my sunny, breezy, family room/office that's filling the space where the deck used to be. It's just that I do miss my outdoor space as well. And with construction debris all over the yard, we haven't even thought about putting up the inflatable pool. still not sure where that's gonna go.

And that's it for summer plans for us. Hopefully we'll do some fun day trips around southern Michigan, but I suspect the deck will be instead of a vacation. And that's just fine. There's lots to do locally, and it will be nice to take some time to do it. I have my eye on the vintage 1890s baseball they play at Greenfield Village, part of the Henry Ford Museum, and a visit there will be a great boost to my steampunk knowledge. In August there's the Michigan Renaissance Festival, and right here in my little town we have a big annual balloon race with all kinds of other stuff going on.

So what are your plans for this summer? Drop a comment, (please include a contact email) and one lucky winner will receive a free download of Midsummer Dreams (learn more about the book here), or  one of my other available e-books. Because after all, you have to have something good to read at the beach, right?

Happy Summer everyone, or for those of you in the southern hemisphere, stay warm during the winter!

Introducing: A Few Words from A Wench

Greetings and salutations all you Romance Book Readers and Writers and Others!

I'm Liz Crowe, and I'm over-committed (or perhaps should be committed)....I mean, who isn't right? But no seriously, I am.

I own a craft microbrewery in Ann Arbor, Michigan.  As Marketing, Sales and Distributor Relations Director I am in charge of all promotions for the Tap Room (the beer bar that is attached to my brewery), staffing of the Tap Room (which essentially consisted of Me, Myself and I and anyone I could bribe to help for the first ten weeks or so), working with my brewer to come up with beers that will sell, managing all aspects of said sales both in and out of the Tap Room (i.e. bottles on shelves, tap handles at other bars), and all the social and face to face networking I can squeeze in there in order to further all of the above.  And it's a Small Business, meaning it's a constant, daily battle of the Great God Cash Flow, sometimes catastrophic equipment failures, managing growth (we have been very successful so far which bring its own set of dilemmas) and personnel issues.

Me and My Boys (i.e. Partners)

My first set of stories--The Brewing Passion Series--has been published by Breathless Press, beginning with "The Rookie" last September, "XXXMas Ale" this past December (on my birthday no less), and "Jockey Box" this past March.  These three hot shorts are the missing chapters that introduce characters in my novella The Tap Room, a "choose your romance" style novel releasing September 30 (and there is a follow up short to The Rookie called "Specific Gravity").


I also have a short story that was contracted at Rebel Ink Press ("Player Conference") as part of their Claw Marks Cougar Anthology.

And, as many of us do, I am sitting on my hands waiting to hear from a publisher about My Big Project: Floor Time, The Realtor Series which has been excerpted Six Sentences at at time each Sunday on my blog:  www.brewingpassion.com.  Plus the three huge WIPs I've got in some stage or another sitting on my computer or still up in my brain.


Yeah, and teenagers who play sports at a high level, an executive style spouse who's not home much, 2 dogs and....oh you get the picture.

My life wasn't always this complicated.  I spent years as a Professional Trailing Spouse, moving from town to town and eventually overseas and then some, schlepping from Japan to Turkey to England ever in pursuit of His Next Job.  My kids were small then, so it was probably good I focused on them (although  "stay at home mom" was never something I considered as a career).  In hindsight I wish I had embarked on writing then, when I had time between learning new languages just to function, and going to "International Ladies Lunches" (a.k.a. the Society of Aggravated Trailing Spouses Just Waiting for the Hubs to Stumble over a Local Hottie On the Make--been there done that, that's another blog post).  

Instead, when we determined that heading back to the U.S. was the only way we were gonna stay married, I picked up my Realtor's license where I had left it and made some pretty good money (selling real estate is basic guerilla marketing---not just anybody can do it and be good at it trust me).  When the opportunity to join craft beer bandwagon presented itself it only took me a week to ponder and research the possibilities before gathering my marketing toys and jumping on board.  I like to think the rest will be urban legend someday...


But the writing....I know that's why we are all here...after cutting my teeth on some erotic classics (Story of O/the Highlander series/Clan of the Cave Bear--oh the pleasures!) my now somewhat forgiven spouse tossed me a few newer ones (Shayla Black is one of my Biggest Influencers) told me to "shut up about it and just write" and the rest is history.  Using my life in the world of men (and the growing ever more popular with women world of Craft Beer) I concocted a brewery owned by 2 men and a woman who is going through a divorce (no I'm not projecting, merely saying "what if?").  Their lives intertwine and connect in ways that are both romantic and smoking hot.  Ultimately, "Erin" must make a choice--hence The Tap Room's "choose your romance" format.  

Coming up with three completely different story arcs and potential HEAs was brutal considering I had already decided who I wanted her to end up with but I will say that it made me flex the creative muscle in ways I never though possible and I'm glad for it.  Now once that dreaded email labeled "Tap Room First Edits" lands with a thunk in my inbox I might need more moral support BUT that's just part of the writer's life, now isn't it?


So that's Liz, in a not so brief nutshell.  I'm gonna stick an excerpt from The Tap Room here, keeping in mind it is still going through editing.  I hope you enjoy---be sure and fill in some of the blanks by grabbing The Rookie, XXXMas Ale and Jockey Box, available at Amazon, Good Reads, and on the Breathless Press site.  Follow the Adventures of the Beer Wench if you are so inclined at www.a2beerwench.com  (she's a lot of fun).  

Naughty brewer...

Cheers
Liz
Set Up:  Erin Brady's life is spiraling out of control in spite of the fact that her microbrewery has been wildly successful.  Her spouse is resentful of her time away and has decided to find comfort in the arms of a young colleague at his bank.  One of her business partners (Owen) has a mad crush on her but she has no idea how to deal with it while the partner who brought her into the company (Trent) is trying to revive an old flame they nurtured many years ago.  Now that Owen has revealed his intentions with her during a particularly hot day in the brewery, depending on what story arc the reader chooses, she will rebuff him, or give in to his advances.  But both options include a brief flashback to a day early on in their working threesome with Trent....and adding fuel to the inferno on that day is one ruined pint of beer....


(WARNING EXPLICIT ADULT CONTENT - X Rated)

            Erin closed up the bar and climbed into her SUV.  Her exhausted brain automatically cast back to the exact moment she realized that her cozy little business threesome with an old friend and a new one could get complicated.

****

“Fuck, fuck, God damn fucking FUCK!” Trent raised his head up from the bar top and glared at the cloudy glass of viscous liquid that was supposed to be their latest addition—a first attempt at a dunkel style beer.

Erin leaned on her elbows across from him.

“What happened?”

Trent stared hard at the nearly black liquid—liquid that should have been a deep reddish brown. Erin studied him. His dark hair and intense deep brown eyes were a nearly perfect foil to their other partner’s bright blue eyes and thick blonde curls. The three of them did make for an attractive picture—something she used to full promotional advantage even if she was getting a little tired of the “amber ale between pilsner and stout ” commentary. Trent heaved a sigh worthy of a teenager.

“Christ, I knew I heated that mash too fast,” he turned around on his bar stool and leaned back. Erin reached over and moved the glass before he knocked it over, glancing at his phone which was buzzing its way across the bar top and frowning at the caller ID.  Knowing this would be a long conversation and probably end badly--sort of like the conversations she’d had lately with her own spouse--Erin  sighed and grabbed a glass of water.

Trent stomped into the brewery without looking back, the phone pinned to his ear. Erin continued to stare at the poisonous looking brew in the glass and mentally calculated how much it was going to cost them in terms of distributor’s good will and actual purchased advertising now that they were back to square one with this damn thing. She could hear Trent’s raised voice through the thick concrete walls.

When he came striding back towards the tap room doors she busied herself wiping down the already spotless bar top. Trent did not have a short fuse—he was probably the calmest of the three partners, but his wife was not happy with his commitment to the brewery on top of the time he spent at his two restaurants. Erin suspected that she also didn’t care for the hours Trent spent with his attractive red-headed female business partner.

It didn’t help that Erin and Trent had some history. Memories of  their wild Ann Arbor summer evenings together the year they graduated from high school were never far from the surface. Erin truly liked him a lot, and would have considered a serious relationship after that summer but they went to different colleges, lost touch and didn’t really reconnect until she moved back to town with her husband and kids. It made for some pretty racy corporate meetings, but she considered it all talk and would not have dreamed of actually doing anything with him now that they were both married, albeit not so happily.

The bang of doors being thrown open startled her. She looked up and caught Trent’s brown eyes glimmering with a fury she didn’t know he possessed. He crossed the room in four strides of his long legs, grabbed the incriminating glass of useless, burnt coffee tasting lager and heaved against the wall, barely missing Erin’s head. The foul smelling brew splashed on her face, and dripped down her blouse. She stared at him, speechless.

“What the FUCK,” she regained her voice when she realized he wasn’t moving, just standing and staring at her across the bar.  Beer went sluicing down her arms to the just cleaned floor and onto the bar top. “You know nearly brained me with that shit.”

Turning around to grab a clean towel, thinking ahead of how she would have time to get cleaned up in here now, change and get to her son’s band concert and get some sort of dinner established for her demanding husband and other son Erin jumped as she felt hands on her waist. Trent pulled her up straight and close to his body.  Heart racing, she leaned back to stare at him, questions in her eyes.

Trent put a finger on her lips before she could speak, then leaned in and covered them with his. Erin opened her eyes wide but within seconds had her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. His body was long and lean, a runner’s frame, and she molded herself against it, familiar, as if they’d never had a nearly twenty year break between physical encounters. His tongue demanded hers and she gave it.   Leaning her head back Erin surrendered to his touch, his whispered endearments and pressed herself against the growing bulge under his jeans. 

“God, Erin, I have wanted to do this. . .” he came up for air and took her face in his hands once more. She shook her head, and tried to break away.

“Trent, seriously stop,” she put her hands on his shoulders. But she knew her eyes belied her words as he smiled slowly, and his eyes darkened, this time with lust, as he pulled her close again. At just shy of five feet eight inches she was not that much shorter than he was and they fit together nicely, just like she remembered. He fisted his hands in her thick hair and brought her lips back to his, which he caressed with his tongue, again, like she remembered. The tell tale dampness in her jeans at the memory of other talents he had with his tongue made her shift when he shoved his leg between hers to allow more contact. She hiked one leg up and around him as he turned her so she was leaning with her back against the bar.

“No, we can’t” she muttered into the skin of his neck as he ran his hands down to cup her breast under her thin t shirt.  Sweat dripped between her shoulder blades and she could taste the salt on his skin. His hands felt so comforting, so familiar. Erin sighed and could feel Trent grinning against her skin.

“What? Bored already?” he pulled his face back and stared into her eyes.

“Shut up and kiss me some more,” she demanded and he obliged her, but slower this time, at first holding her face in his hands and lingering over her lips. He made a satisfied sound deep in his throat and popped the button on her jeans Her brain fuzzed over with desire, but was starting to sound alarm bells as she maneuvered so he had better access. It was six on a Sunday night, they were actually still open, and there was a huge nasty mess of beer dripping down her wall. But his fingers found the edge of her panties and as he pressed against her flesh all rational thought fled.
“Mmmm,” he muttered against her lips. “I remember this now.”

It was her turn to grin. 

“Yeah, me too, now less talk, more action,” she shifted again, so he could reach down further and gasped when he plunged two fingers into her wet depths.

She gripped his shoulder as her knees went instantly weak at his touch. It had been weeks, hell, maybe in months since her husband had laid a hand on her. Their passion for each other got a daily dousing ever since she agreed to join this venture—he preferred her home, out of the limelight, at his side, wherever but certainly not always gone and unable to make dinner every night like she used to. She hadn’t realized until this exact moment how much she missed a man’s touch on her skin, or how horny she was.   Her pussy clenched and she shuddered against Trent’s chest.

“Damn, sorry, I’m sort of pent up I guess,” she whispered before he covered her lips with his.

He broke away and smiled at her. 

“That was the goal, dear, now let’s see if I remember how you like this,” he whispered in her ear which brought goose bumps to every inch of her skin.

Turning her around Trent eased her jeans down over her hips, his hand lingering on her flesh. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror across the room--thick auburn hair disheveled, green eyes glittering,  lips red and swollen from Trent’s kisses. 
 Oh yes, he remembered just what she liked all right.  
 She arched her back and pressed against him. He grasped her hips and slowly slipped into her, one amazing inch at a time, groaning as he reached up to fist his hands in her hair and pull her back against him harder.

Skin flushing with long-suppressed passion, Erin pressed back, longing to feel Trent’s entire length.

“Harder,” she muttered through a clenched jaw.  “You know how I want it."  The hand clutching her hair flexed and pulled her head back.

  Erin braced herself on the bar as his thrusts shoved her up against the cold stainless steel top.  The sour smell of a ruined beer that represented weeks of work on Trent’s part and tons of publicity effort on hers was replaced by the musky odor of their combined lust. Spreading her legs farther apart, Erin could feel the glass from the destroyed pint under her thick-soled brewery boots.

“Oh God, Trent, yes, right there,” she shoved herself back, wanting to possess every inch of him.

 One hand took on a life of its own, rubbing and stroking her own clit as he pounded her from behind. She could tell he was close, and with one last stroke sent herself over the edge, grasping the bar with both hands again just to stay on her feet. Her pussy spasmed and she cried out as Trent shoved her hard up against the cold stainless steel with a final thrust and a grunt of release. He shuddered and released her hair, running his hands across her shoulders and down to the small of her back.

“Jesus, I needed that.” he pulled out of her body, his cock glistening, pulling his jeans up from his knees.  With a deep breath he turned her back around to face him again.  

They shared a long, satisfying kiss as he eased her jeans back up and zipped them.  Erin was struck with the memory that she had been ready to marry this guy all those years ago, based on his talented lips and tongue. Now, her brain was starting to engage again, reminding her she’d just fucked a married man, in her bar, while she herself was still married, granted to a controlling asshole who begrudged her every single moment she spent trying to build this company into something more than a gimmick. She pulled back from him, her mind spinning.

Trent put a hand under her chin and forced her to look at him. Erin blinked as tears of regret and stress formed behind her eyes.  Brushing them away, he brought his lips to hers once more.

The sound of the door rattling forced them apart and Trent turned quickly to tuck his shirt back in and zip up his own jeans. Their other partner, Owen sauntered in, his thick blond hair windblown, blue eyes bright with excitement.

“Hey guess what?” he yelled out as he threw some new posters down on the end of the bar nearest the door.

“Um, what,” Erin blushed, and pulled her hair back into a pony tail.

Owen looked up at her, his eyes narrowed and his nostrils flaring.

“I think I found us a brew master." His voice was low and slow and, she realized, suspicious.

She smiled at him, trying to shake the just fucked look off her face and those stupid tears out of her eyes.

“Really? Great! Who?”

Trent stepped from around the bar, but she could see he was still flushed from their encounter and just knew Owen would be onto them.  Ignoring them both, she busied herself with cleaning up the shattered glass and now congealing mess of ruined beer on the wall.

“Yeah, it’s this kid Jeff Thornton, he’s a townie and just got back from a stint in Munich.” Owen watched Erin scurry around.

“What the hell happened in here?”

Her skin flushed deep crimson.  Erin could still feel Trent pushing her up against the bar... then realized he could be asking about the mess of glass and dark liquid on the wall. She closed her eyes against the image of their intense encounter and felt her pussy pulse again. Jesus, what had she done? This could ruin their perfectly balanced working threesome.

Trent ran a hand over his face and sighed.

“The dunkel is totally fucked, dude. I’m gonna go dump it out right now.”

Owen reached out and grabbed Trent’s arm as he passed by him on his way into the brewery. “That’s not what I meant,” he glowered at his old friend and business partner. “I know a ruined batch of expensive ingredients when I smell it.”       

Trent pulled his arm out of Owen’s grasp and looked over at Erin. She was frozen in place, with a death grip on the broom handle. Owen stood for a minute and watched them, then threw his hands up in disgust.

“Sweet zombie Jesus, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded staring straight at Erin. And she would swear the look in his eyes was naked jealousy. Her own eyes widened in surprise as it hit her. Owen was an avowed bachelor, and their long running joke was that part of the appeal of their beer was his surfer-boy good looks and long list of female admirers. She swallowed as she thought back to the many late nights work sessions that many times ended in backrubs for her, from him.      


Christ. This is gonna get messy.

*****

Erin gasped and turned the key, as the powerful vehicle roared to life.  How long had Owen been wanting to kiss her?  While she selfishly fucked around with his friend and co-founder of the company they would all take a bullet for?  Face stinging with memory and remorse, she tore out of the brewery parking lot onto the main road, headed to her large empty house.

Guest Blog: L. K. Below: A Fairy Tale Ending

Every little girl wants that glass slipper, the feeling of being a princess, the ride into the sunset -- the happily ever after. As we grow up, that urge is buried beneath years of cynicism, but that lingering wish, of finding our very own Prince Charming, I don’t think ever completely leaves us. Heck, I have a little frog-prince pin on my coat which claims to attract that prince (ironically, I got it shortly before I met my boyfriend). That lingering little girl inside me, the one who wants everything to work out perfectly, fuels my love of fairy tales.

As does, come to think of it, my love of history. Fairy tales (and yes, I read the originals) are little pieces of the past, oral tales passed on and changed until finally written down. These little clues into the foggy past never fail to intrigue me and set my imagination spinning.

Yes, that was the inspiration behind writing Unveiling His Princess, based on the Brother’s Grimm fairytale “Princess Mouseskin.” Reading the one-page story only opened the doors to my inner muse in the form of Natalia, the heroine. She insisted on telling her story, even leading me on some deviations from the original tale.

While writing this retelling appeased the bone nudged from reading the tale, it didn’t appease that little girl hiding inside me. This still could not happen, she insisted. You are living in the past. Well, in a mythical past when fairy tales were real. But I got her point. I understood her disgruntlement.

Which is when she revealed a new storyline to me. Never a Princess, Always a Frog also has fairytale elements (this time, as you can likely guess, from “The Princess and the Frog”). But it has no magic. Prince Charming is a real, work-a-day man. And the heroine a gawky librarian. But magic is made between them one fateful Halloween when Colleen attends a rowdy party wearing nothing but green paint.

Is this story, which will be released from Lyrical Press, Inc. on July 4th, enough to satisfy that little fairy-tale loving girl? Certainly not. Never a Princess, Always a Frog is the beginning of a series of hot contemporary romances with elements from a favorite fairytale. And personally, I can’t wait for them either.

What about you? Do you love a good fairy tale or happily-ever-after?

BIO:
L. K. Below writes romance and speculative fiction. Under her full name, Lindsay Below, she publishes young adult books. Visit her online at http://www.lbelow.net or join her on her blog at http://lbelow.blogspot.com

BLURB: for Never a Princess, Always a Frog
Has this frog finally found her prince?

From the moment Colleen confesses her deepest desire -- to experience the same passion she's read about in books -- she is swept away on the most daring escapade she’s ever experienced. Dressed in nothing but green paint,she attends a Halloween party searching for the man of her dreams. She finds him, but then fears she won’t be able to give him up.

Since the death of his wife five years ago, Dan's life has been on auto-pilot. But from the moment he meets Colleen, he starts to feel alive again. And he knows he can’t let this would-be princess stride out of his life…

Learn more at http://bit.ly/NeverAPrincess