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![]() 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. AMAZON | iBOOKS | NOOK | KOBO | SMASHWORDSAmazon 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. AMAZON | NOOK | KOBO | SMASHWORDS
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Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play / Audible / Bookbub -- EXCERPT:
Her throat was nearly too tight for words. She forced out, “It’s not safe for me to go back to Phoenix. I told you everything that happened with my ex, Francis. There is some weird stuff going on there with the police and, I think, other drug dealers. So, I called up Sister Annunciata, the principal of my Catholic high school that I went to in New Mexico, and she called up a friend of hers, Father Thomas—” “Father Thomas Aquinas from Immaculate Conception in Phoenix,” he said with her, in unison. “The Catholic Mafia strikes again.” Augustine shook his head. Not Augustine, Maxence. And yet, he was still the astonishingly tall, ripped, beautiful specimen of a man Dree had met in Paris. But, he was named Maxence. She had to remember that. Deacon Father Maxence. The white tab of the Roman collar on his shirt shone in the late afternoon sunlight streaming through the windows, accusing her. He had not been wearing that in Paris, and he should have been. “Yeah,” she said. “Father Thomas said he could get me on a plane for somewhere far away from the southwestern US without any questions asked. So, here I am, far away from the southwestern US.” Augustine nodded. “Nepal is very far away from the southwestern US.” “Didn’t he or somebody tell you I was coming? Did you know?” “The Catholic Charities division managing the project emailed me yesterday that a person named ‘Andrea Clark’ had been assigned to us.” He was pronouncing it wrong, Ahn-DRAY-ah. She corrected him, “Andrea.” ANN-dree-uh. “I thought it was amusing because you had mentioned that Clark was a very common name,” he said, “that there was a university and shoes and department store, and other things also named Clark. So, I thought that the person coming must be yet another Clark. It did cross my mind that they might be a cousin or distant relative of yours, but I assumed the person would be male.” “I can’t believe you thought I was a guy.” He frowned. “Well, there’s the name, Andrea.” “There you go again, mispronouncing it. I thought it was weird the way you said it when we were in Paris when you were talking about your cousin. I’ve never heard anybody pronounce it that way, Ahn-DRAY-ah. Who even says that?” He looked up at her, his eyebrows raised in exasperation. “That’s how you pronounce Andrea. I’ve never heard anyone say it the way that you do, ANN-Dree-uh. Andrea is a boy’s name.” “Andrea is a girl’s name. It’s always been a girl’s name. It’s how you get Ann, which is a girl’s name.” “Andrea is one of the most common name for boys in Italy. It’s more common than Marco or Leonardo. My cousin’s name is Andrea Casiraghi, and I assure you, he’s male. Every Andrea I’ve ever known has been a male. Why would I think it was different now?” “I can’t help the fact that your cousin’s parents gave him a girl’s name.” “It’s not. Andrea is a male name.” “Well, I assure you I’m not a male.” “I’m well aware of that.” “I should say you are. Speaking of which, why are you wearing a Roman Catholic priest’s shirt and people are calling you father? Are you impersonating a priest? That has to be a crime or something. This is weird.” He flipped his hand in the air toward the door. “As Sister Mariam said, I’ve been ordained as a deacon, not a priest, so I am called Deacon Father Maxence. I have a vocation to be a priest but have not been ordained as one yet.” After being a nurse in an inner-city hospital for years, Dree had a finely tuned bullshit detector. “Deacons are supposed to be either married or celibate.” He shrugged. “Not yet.” “Do you mean to tell me that you are waiting for God to grant you the ability to keep your pants on? It doesn’t work like that.” He bit his lip, his white, even teeth pressing his full lower lip in a way that Dree had done just two days before. And wanted to do again. No. He was a priest. Or close enough. And she was detecting some mighty large bullshit. She said, “Don’t you have to go to confession and enumerate your sins and say penance like the rest of us do, or do deacons get a free pass?” “Deacons do not get a free pass. I’ve had to do the rite of reconciliation twice for our time together in Paris.” “Yeah, I’ll bet you did.” Something rather stupid in her felt pride at that. “You should’ve told me you were a deacon and supposed to be celibate.” One side of Maxence’s mouth rose, and the depths of his dark eyes sparkled with mischief. “I’m rather glad I didn’t.” He sighed. “And now I’d better go to confession for that, too.” Dree snorted at him. “Having some impure thoughts?” “You have no idea how impure my thoughts are right now.” “You’ve got to stop doing that, Augustine. Speaking of which, what is your real name? Is it that Maxence thing or something else?” “I was baptized Maxence Charles Honoré Grimaldi. Because I have been ordained as a deacon, you can call me Deacon Father Maxence or Father Maxence.” Her tone sharpened. “‘Yeah, it’d be too suspicious if I called you daddy.” ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() The Breakup Plan
-- EXCERPT: 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. ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() Ain’t She Sweet
-- EXCERPT: 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. ![]()
GIVEAWAY!
Young Adult
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. Contact Links Purchase Link a Rafflecopter giveaway ![]() A Sweet, Soft Glow
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks -- EXCERPT: 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. ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() Fireflies at 3 am
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GIVEAWAY! ![]() The Art of Loving Ellie
-- EXCERPT:
The wind whirls around me on my walk from the train to the office, and I continuously have to pull my hair out of my sticky lip gloss. My scarf has come loose from my coat and is flapping around, slapping me in the face repeatedly, and I’m starting to get irritated. I promised myself today would be a better day and dammit, I’m not going to let a little wind ruin it. I’m attempting to wrangle my scarf and push the door open, all while trying to somewhat maintain my composure so Margaux doesn’t think I’m a total twit. Judging by her squinted eyes and puckered face, I can see that I’ve less than succeeded in that mission. Finally getting inside the building, I turn around to scold the doors and realize I’ve dropped one of my bags in all of the chaos. I huff as I walk over to grab it off the floor, and turn to make my way back toward the elevator. Instead of advancing forward to my desired destination, I’m propelled backward when I full-on body slam the solid form standing in front of me. Without even knowing who I’ve run in to, I start to sputter, “Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” Reaching out to try and stabilize us both, my hands wrap around what I realize are firm, male biceps. My eyebrows rise in shock as my eyes adjust to what they can only perceive as the most attractive man in all of New York City. I’m struck by the curious way he’s staring at me, making me feel like a bug in a petri dish. The warm amber scent of his cologne slams my senses, and I feel a quick head rush. I expect him to be annoyed by my clumsiness, but to my surprise, he appears amused. He lightly chuckles, “Whoa there, Windy.” His deep, masculine voice rumbles between us, and I have to blink a few times to keep myself focused. The long sleeves of his shirt are folded halfway up his forearms, showcasing a tan that practically glows with warmth, and my fingers twitch with wonder at what it would be like to run them across his exposed skin. The humor in his eyes shines bright, and he appears to be laughing at me. Did he happen to see the scarf display? Surely he didn’t. “I thought that scarf was going to strangle you before you even got through the door,” he says teasingly. Dear God, he did. My heart beats loudly in my chest, and I feel my face burning hot. My gaze follows his movements as his arm flexes to fix his disheveled hair. His shoulders are wide, and even under his button-up shirt, and form-fitting vest, I can tell he is physically fit. His slacks hug his legs in all the right places, and I’m immediately drawn to his warm, welcoming presence. His laughter is gentle, but I feel awkward standing here in front of this gorgeous guy, looking like a klutz. The man is taller than me, and I have to bend my head back slightly just to look up at him. He blinds me with a bright white smile as my eyes travel to a small scar on his left cheek just below his eye, and I’m curious as to how he acquired it. There’s something about him I can’t put my finger on. He’s attractive, sure—but he’s unlike any guy I’ve ever met before. A lazy, confident smile graces his lips, and the way he crowds me while keeping just the right amount of distance causes my skin to flush. I feel self-conscious, so of course, I have to blurt out something super embarrassing. “Yeah, this scarf is a real bad boy!” My eyes practically bug out of my head in shock. Please, tell me that did not just come out of my mouth. With a hand cupping my eyes to block him from my sight, I try to skirt around Mr. Attractive to find anywhere to repeat to myself what a big, awkward idiot I feel like. “Hey, wait a second!” he calls after me. His large hand wraps around my arm gently, the casual touch warming its way to my skin through my layers. I turn toward him, halting my escape. “Look, I—I’m sorry that I ran into you, and I’m glad I could give you a good laugh, but there’s no need to carry on.” I rub the back of my neck nervously with my free hand. Trying to move around a man who’s a good foot taller than me is a lot harder than I realized. His eyes, which I now notice are the most beautiful shade of whiskey brown I have ever seen, lock with mine, momentarily freezing time. Though smacking the amusement out of them is pretty tempting, I’m finding it increasingly hard to breathe around this man. The stranger continues staring at me, making me a little uncomfortable, and I glance around the lobby nervously as I wait for him to speak. I rock back and forth on my heels, gently shrugging out of his hold. “I really should get upstairs. My boss is kind of an ass when I’m late, and god-forbid I tell him I’ve been terrorizing guests downstairs.” Tilting his head slightly, as if something about me perplexes him, he asks, “Would you like to get coffee with me?” “G—get coffee with you?” I stutter uncertainly. He hasn’t stopped smiling since I attempted to take him down Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson style, and I’m starting to wonder just how crazy this guy is. “We’ve only known each other for five minutes?” My heart begins to flutter a little when he takes a step forward into my personal space. “I think I’d like five more.” He winks at me and my jaw drops a little in surprise. He laughs lightly at my reaction to his request. “Listen, uh—” I give him a second to insert his name. When he doesn’t supply me with one, I continue, “I’m not exactly the dating type.” “Who said anything about dating?” he teases, but there’s a confident look in his eyes as if he knows I’m going to agree. This guy is charming, and if I had to bet—a lady killer. His light brown hair is tousled about, but it’s not too long to be unmanageable. I momentarily let my eyes roam over him and think how he favors Alex Pettyfer quite a bit. I’m staring at the adorable way his hair curls away from his ears when he politely clears his throat. Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts, “Oh! Well, I—I suppose coffee couldn’t hurt.” “Charlie’s?” he asks, and I squint my eyes at him in question. There are at least five different coffee shops between this block and the next, and he chooses my favorite one. It’s odd, but I can’t find a single good reason to say no, so I breathe out an unsteady, “Okay.” “How’s noon, tomorrow sound?” I look past him to see that he’s left his bags by Margaux’s desk. Curious. I wonder what business he has here, but I smile up at him, trying not to give away my thoughts. “Sure, sounds great.” Maybe he’s an artist too, or possibly meeting with someone to reserve space on a floor here. “May I have your name?” He extends his hand for me to shake, and I reach out, feeling the soft heat of his palm against mine. “Elizabeth, but I prefer Ellie.” He pulls my hand up to his unbelievably soft lips, giving the back of it a quick kiss, and the crooked grin he gives me piques my interest as he turns away, swaggering back toward Margaux’s desk. I begin to sweat with nervousness on my walk over to the elevator, nausea coating the back of my tongue, and my stomach threatens to heave its contents. What was I thinking saying yes? Turning back toward the lobby slightly, I see him leaning over to Margaux with both elbows on her desk as they smile and talk about something that I can’t make out. Mmhmm, he’s a lady killer alright. She’s practically drooling. Poor thing probably isn’t even listening to what he’s saying, but he uses his hands excitedly while talking to her and I find it almost… endearing. I get on the elevator and I’m forced to stare at them as I wait for the doors to shut. Margaux’s back is to me, but Mr. Attractive flicks his gaze up to meet mine right as the elevator doors are beginning to close and gives me a smile so mischievous, it causes my body temperature to rise to a feverish degree. The doors shut and I realize—I gave him my name, but he didn’t give me his.
GIVEAWAY! ![]() Freak
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo -- EXCERPT: 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. Two. 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. Ohmigod. Ohmigod. Oh. My. God. Sasquatch was real. And I was looking at him right now. ![]()
GIVEAWAY! ![]() Heedless
Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / iBooks / Kobo / Google Play -- EXCERPT: 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. Yes. Now. ![]()
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