Title: FLOW, Detroit Sports Network Book 2
Author: Liz Crowe
Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
Release Date: December 18, 2020
Cover Designer: Jay Aheer, Evernight Publishing
When Emerson Tyler’s unrequited high school crush crashed into her first group meeting of the DSN’s social media department, it was strange to say the least. When she learned that her crush wasn't as “unrequited” as she’d always believed, things got even stranger.
She'd sworn on the day Bryce Nordlinger crushed her teenaged heart--not to mention ruined her reputation in order to save his lady-killer status--that she would never trust him or any man ever again. And she had no intention of breaking that oath, no matter how much more tempting he’d become as a grown up NHL star.
Bryce had always wanted Em to be more than the smart, snarky high school girl who helped him with his terrible English essays. But he’d been busy burnishing his rep as future jock stud, and when his fellow hockey bros caught him skating with her alone in a deserted rink, he’d chosen the easiest path--one that left her hurt in a way he never thought he’d be able to heal.
His complete shock at seeing her, all grown up and more beautiful than ever in the meeting room at DSN, morphed into a steel-plated resolve. He would win her back and make up for the mess he’d made of her high school senior year, while dragging the once-proud Detroit hockey program out of the dumpster fire and back to prominence at the same time.
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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?”).
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.
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The Breakup Plan
I think that if my family had died differently, or at least under better circumstances, I would have felt less angry. Better, maybe. More at peace. I don’t know, I guess that sounds pretty crazy. But I have to believe that if their deaths hadn’t been so fucking tragic, I could have accepted it and moved on. But I couldn’t and I never will. Because I just can’t. That’s why I was the way I was as I kid. That’s why I was the way I was as a teenager. That’s why I am the way I am now. Their deaths were a perfect illustration for the fucked up son and brother they got stuck with, and they paid the final price.
I’m just thankful I eventually got my life together. Finally pulled my head out of my ass. Somehow made it into a good college (my uncle helped with that, it pays to have connections), and that’s when things started to turn around. After years of beating myself up and hating myself, I finally figured out the secret to life. Stop giving a fuck. And I started funneling all my God-given energy into making something of myself. I live my life for me and no one else. This way I’m happy and no one gets hurt—Including myself. I keep everyone I know at arms-length and it works. I’m a damned successful executive of a damned successful corporation and I’m finally happy. After a life of torment and agony, I’m finally happy. I take what I want, pass on what I don’t, and naturally, I don’t do relationships. There’s no need for them—they only cause unhappiness which is what I’m looking to avoid. After getting a good job straight out of college (thanks again, Uncle Richard), I worked my ass off all the way to the marketing executive of a dominating online retailer, and my every dream has come true. I am exactly who and what I’ve always wanted to be. Until one day my entire fucking life was turned upside down.
So, that’s how I met the biggest pain in the ass I’d ever known—Penny Reynolds.
Ain’t She Sweet
After arranging an assortment of gourds on her newspaper-covered dining room table, Ruby picks up her telephone to call her oldest son, Brogan. “How are you and Addie doing?” she wants to know. As the first recipients of her matchmaking endeavor, the success of their union is integral to her confidence in setting up her younger son, James, with her new pastry chef.
“She’s great. We’re great. New York is beautiful in the fall.”
Whoever said glitter was the herpes of the crafting world never fully appreciated its hypnotic effects, Ruby thinks while spraying gold glitter paint. “I knew you two were meant to be.”
“I don’t know how you decided that, but I’m glad you did. For a while there I thought you were trying to set Addison up with James. Speaking of which, how are things going between him and Tara?”
“What do you mean?” Ruby asks, trying—and failing—to sound innocent.
“Don’t try to tell me you haven’t set your sights on her for my little brother.”
After several moments, Ruby dejectedly confesses, “It’s been hard finding ways to throw them together now that James’s farmstand is mostly closed for the season. I’ve had to resort to hiring your brother to put in a garden here at the lodge.”
“Interesting. I’m not sure I should offer, but let me know if I can do anything to help.”
“You and Addie are still coming home for Christmas, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. We arrive the second week of December and are planning on staying until the first week of March. I’ll be working on my new novel and Addie is going to commute to a hotel she’s redesigning in Portland.”
Ruby walks around the table, eyeing her decorative fall creation before firing off a final burst of sparkle. “I might need your help then. In the meantime, don’t bring up Tara’s name when you talk to James. I don’t want him to guess what I’m up to until it’s too late.”
“You make me nervous, Mom, but you did such a great job for me that I promise not to interfere in your latest project.”
“Good. Now, I’ve got to go. Your brother will be here any minute to meet with Tara about the dessert portion of the garden.”
“Does he know he’s meeting with her?” Brogan asks.
“Of course not. What fun would that be? Bye!” Ruby hangs up on her son before he has a chance to reply. After refreshing her lipstick and picking invisible lint from her sweater, she’s off to make another love connection.
Date Published: 11/17/2020
Publisher: Lands Atlantic Publishing
Nineteen-year-old Juliet can't shake the nightmares after surviving a brutal bank robbery. In order to put those terrifying memories behind, she'll have to testify against the criminal known as the Half Face. She convinces herself that she is perfectly safe, until he manages to break free and grab the nearest hostage he sets his sights on. Her.
In an effort to escape the captivity of the law, and his tortured past, the Half Face takes Juliet on an obsessive search for answers and redemption. During the harsh journey, his unpredictability fuels Juliet's worst fear, that he just may be insane and beyond any hope of saving.
About the Author
Mara Li has been writing from an early age. She is inspired by fairytales, myths and legends from all over the world. In 2016 her debut novel De Stem van de Zee was nominated for the Harland Awards Roman Prize for best Dutch fantasy. Winter is her writing season (summer never gets much of it). Tea and ginger nuts are her writing food, her cat's attention can sometimes be an obstacle. Her novel, Half Face, launches her as an international author with books published in multiple countries and languages.
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A Sweet, Soft Glow
He felt a soft, cool touch on his arm. He opened his eyes, and to his right, standing next to him in the rain was Elly. Tears streamed down her cheeks, her hands outstretched toward her father. John let go of the gun and rushed to her. He swept her off her feet and held her close. Her small arms squeezed him around his neck like they always had. She was here; he could feel her heart beating against his chest as he held her tight to him.
“Elly,” he cried, his tears fell into her locks of golden-brown hair.
“Daddy,” she said.
Her arms still tightly around his neck, Elly leaned back so John could see her face. Her bright blue eyes shone back at him. And there it was, that smile he missed so much. Her face was bright, ebullient as always.
Then she was gone. John’s arms were still locked in her embrace, but she was no longer there. When he blinked, he could see her like the image on a polaroid coming into focus except in reverse. Each time he blinked, she became a little less. His head was numb, and he suddenly felt lightheaded.
Fireflies at 3 am
The Art of Loving Ellie
How was I supposed to get close enough to the Reclusive Songwriter to snap his picture?
Gathering up my bag, I followed the fence line back through the trees toward the front of the property. Finding a spot that gave me a good view of the front of the house, I settled down to wait, hoping he came out the front this time.
An hour passed.
I tried to get comfortable on the hard ground, reading on my Kindle and glancing up at the house every once in a while. But the man was indeed a recluse.
I didn’t know what to do. Desperation clawed at me. Should I go back to the front gate and ring the buzzer again, and keep ringing it until the man agreed to speak to me?
Right. That was only going to get me arrested.
I eyed the nearest “no trespassing” sign mounted on the fence about ten feet away. With all the surveillance cameras, he had to know I was out here. I was probably lucky the guy hadn’t had me arrested yet.
Another hour passed.
The sun was disappearing over the horizon now, darkness settling in. It didn’t look like I was going to be successful today.
With a heavy sigh, I gathered up my bag and rose to my feet, deciding to call it a day.
My skin prickled as something moved on the other side the fence.
I spun around, my heart smacking into my ribs.
The heavily-treed yard now deep in shadows, it took a moment for my eyes to take in what had appeared before me. Even then, I wasn’t entirely sure what I was looking at in the low light. He stood as still as the tree trunks surrounding him.
My hand flew to my throat, my eyes widening.
Gasping, I stumbled back, tripping over my own feet and falling into the underbrush, my bag landing beside me.
I tilted my head back, unable to tear my gaze away.
Oh. My. God.
Sasquatch was real.
And I was looking at him right now.
Elisa swallowed hard…and shook her head.
No. She would not put Nate in Gil’s sights just for sex.
“Tell me who it is.” Nate’s low voice was caressing. “I’ll fuck him up for you.”
Elisa laughed. “Aw. That’s sweet. Is that your idea of seduction?”
His breath caressed her ear as he leaned closer. “No,” he murmured. “That’s just my idea of common, baseline courtesy. Believe me—when I start seducing you, you won’t need to ask me if it’s happening or not.”
The air hummed with tension. She looked up at him, searching for the right words to put him off, push him away. She didn’t have the words. Or want to say them.
She felt the warmth of his hand against her neck. Stroking her hair, fingers sliding through it. Cradling her head. She was pinned between those two opposing forces. The hunger in his eyes, and the huge, cold fear holding her back.
She drifted closer, not opposing his gentle pull…and their lips met.
Emotion jolted through her like lightning. His lips were warm, moving gently over hers. Seeking, asking for entrance, then as she opened to him, slowly daring more. The flick of his questioning tongue got bolder, entering her mouth, probing delicately, like he was inviting her to come out into the light. Drawing part of her soul right out of her body. It rushed out to meet him like a fountain of color, out of control. The seductive invitation of his kiss blossomed into a hot carnal promise.