Mutual Release: The Excerpts

My latest book, Mutual Release, is a project I am proud of for a lot of reasons. It comes at a time in my writing and publishing journey where I feel that I have learned so much, but yet still have so much to learn. It allowed me to stretch back and capture a protagonist couple's full teenage back stories, so it could be considered amongst that New Breed of Erotic Novel: The New Adult.  It has elements of the currently trending BDSM and Dom/sub life but mostly it is a growing up story, about how 2 people who nurture deep, abiding emotional pain find each other, and while that is definitely not "perfect" (because really, what is?) it definitely feels "right."

MUTUAL RELEASE IS AVAILABLE FOR PRE ORDER NOW ON ALL ROMANCE E-BOOKS. The e-book version will be live on April 4, 2013, with print copies available about 10 days after that. It is the 7th book in my popular Stewart Realty series but is a stand alone, novel. You don't have to know the characters or anything about the series to appreciate it but I warn you, you may be hooked after reading it.

Pre order link: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-mutualrelease-1145557-147.html


Click here for the Trailer.

The Blurb:

Can two dark souls ever make a light?

As president of her own distribution company, Julie Dawson has all she ever wanted -- money, power, and respect. But her carefully crafted façade conceals a  torment of abuse and helplessness.  After years remaining emotionally aloof, she is finally independent, but alone. Because she refuses to rely on anyone but herself ever again. 

Evan Adams is no stranger to success, or personal demons. The horrific trauma that destroyed his twin sister, and tore his family apart, forced him to craft a new life from the ashes of the old. He's content enough, focusing ahead and not dwelling on his murky past. But something important is missing. He knows what that thing is but refuses to acknowledge it.

When a chance encounter brings these two strong-willed but damaged people together , what seems like a long, erotic journey through hell could lead them to a match made in heaven.

MUTUAL RELEASE:
A coming of age novel about trust...on the long road to love.

2 excerpts:

PG13: The First Meeting

Monday dawned bright, clear, and cold, even for an October morning. Evan ran his usual route around the west side of his newly adopted town, relishing how strong he felt and looking forward to his workday—the one where he had a tight grip on his own destiny for a change. After a long hot shower, two huge cups of coffee, and an apple, he grabbed his presentation thumb drive and laptop and headed out.

One of the things he’d inherited from his father was a love of classic English cars. He had sold two of the Jags, keeping his favorite and purchasing an MG Spyder, not giving a shit at how much it cost to keep the damn thing running properly. As he sped in his sportscar across Interstate 96 on his way to the far-flung Northern Detroit suburbs to sweet talk, finagle, and wow the big-time distributor, he was on top of his own personal mountain. Nothing would spoil the day. He refused to allow it.

He pulled into a visitor’s parking spot, tucked his Ray-Bans over the visor, and smoothed his hair before jumping out and striding to the glass front doors. “Dawson” was etched in the glass, nothing more or less, as if it were a boutique law firm or ad agency. Nothing out front indicated that it was one of the most successful craft beer and domestic wine distribution companies in the Midwest.

Tucking away a shiver of intimidation, he pushed the door open and saw a small shrine to Michigan craft beer. The front receiving area was full of faux six packs, cases, kegs, and displays representing every brand, including some that were nationally known. A single desk sat near another set of doors. Through its clear glass he could see a bustling group of people, men and women, all dressed in top-notch suits, getting ready to go out on their sales day. The place oozed professionalism, even a bit of snootiness that surprised him.

But he shook it off, walked up to the stunningly attractive blond woman at the front desk. She sat frowning at a large computer screen. He stood for a few seconds, thinking she would acknowledge him. Finally he had to clear his throat to make her look away from whatever had her mesmerized.

“Oh, hello. Sorry about that.” Her smile made her already gorgeous face light up and left him slightly breathless. Looking back, he figured he must have looked like a complete ass as he stood there, unable to form coherent words, his brain awash in sensations he had not allowed himself to experience in a damn long time. She arched one perfect eyebrow. He gulped, knowing he should say something.

“Uh, so, I have an appointment?” He winced at the upturning of his sentence as if he were asking her a question. Clearing his throat, he started over, pasted on his best “Evan Adams, Charmer” smile and held out a hand. “Evan Adams, owner of Big House Brewing in Ann Arbor, here to see Mr. Dawson. I’m a little early.”

She tilted her head, then shook his hand matter-of-factly. But he had to stop himself from stumbling backwards at the thoughts that coiled up in his lizard brain at her touch. His mouth dried out and an odd yet familiar roaring sound fired up between his ears. She frowned. “You okay, there, Evan?” Her lips caressed his name, making him repress a shiver.

“Yeah, sorry. So, anyway, I’ll just sit… over here… until Mr. Dawson is ready. You know, since I’m, uh, early.” He winced, marveling at the depth of his dorkiness. She put her elbows on the desk, eyeing him closely. He observed that she seemed a little overdressed for a receptionist but figured this place must have a strict dress code.

“Sit here,” she said, patting the seat nearest her desk. “Keep me company for a while.”

“Um, sure,” he said, flushing red to the tips of his ears, then moving closer to her while trying to look cool, casual, not ready to jump up and escape.

She smiled. “So, tell me about your company. You know, while we wait for Mr. Dawson.”

He relaxed and launched into the tale, thankful to have a reason to talk and not sound like the world’s oldest high school geek trying to flirt with the prom queen. She asked a lot of questions, kept him talking. And after about a half hour, he was laughing with her at his tale of trying to empty a brewing vessel full of wet grains and dumping about ten pounds of the stuff all over himself.

At one point she brushed her hair back, and his breath caught in his throat at the glimpse of her long neck and the small indent between her collarbones. He had no idea what that was, that soft spot that seemed to pulse with her heartbeat. But he wanted to put his tongue there very, very badly. Allowing his eyes to flicker over her profile, the striking angles of her face, he gulped, looked away.

Getting a grip, he pulled a business card from his portfolio and handed it to her. “I’d love to talk with you more,” he said, trying to ease his voice down from its high-pitched nervous whine to a sexier, more natural tone. “But since I don’t even know your name….” He looked at the nameplate on the desk. It was blank.

She leaned back, propped her high heels on the desk in a strange move that had him instantly on edge and practically panting with horniness.

“Uh, so,” he glanced at his watch, his nerves dancing up and down his spine once more, “if you are interested, maybe we could, you know, go out. Have a beer? Keep chatting?” He closed his eyes, unable to bear his own flop sweat another minute. “Never mind.” He slumped back in his seat. Where the "Master Dom" Evan Adams had hidden he did not know, but damned if the guy was staying there and leaving this ridiculous, stuttering loser in his place.

The silence spun out about a minute longer than was truly polite. He finally looked up at her. She was staring at him over the tops of her shoes, her head tilted to the side as if wondering why the hell he was even cluttering up her space. Finally, the doors to his left opened and a tall, good-looking guy in a suit stood there, surprise clear on his face. “Julie,” he said. “We’ve been looking all over for you. Your nine o’clock appointment isn’t here yet but….”

The woman held up a hand, silencing the man but keeping her eyes pinned on Evan’s. His heart sped up and that familiar, yet nearly forgotten, roaring sound started up in his ears once more.

Julie Dawson. J. Dawson. The person he’d been communicating with through his… or her… secretary.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

He stood, furious that she’d sat there and let him babble on like a bloody idiot for nearly forty-five minutes. “Well, that was fun,” he said, staring her down, or attempting to. But his skin was both on fire and cold at once. Something about the woman made him have to hang on to his laptop case tight, just to keep from stepping close and kissing those full red lips so hard she would be his in an instant. “Or not. Thanks for your time.”

“No, no, don’t go,” she said, getting to her feet in one fluid, sexy move. She was over six feet tall in her shoes, curvy, womanly, and sending out the sort of signals he had not intercepted in a long time—too long, if the way he was overreacting was any indication. “Really, I want to know why you think my company would be in any way interested in yours.”

He processed her barb, clenched his jaw, and poured out the reasons behind why Dawson would benefit from jumping on his bandwagon now, in the early days, so they could grow the brand in a key market together. She listened, standing behind the stupid receptionist’s desk, her assistant wildly typing notes on his tablet.

Finally, she held up a hand again. “How very… creative.” She walked around to the front of the desk, giving him an eye-popping full view of her. She was like sex on two perfect female legs, the exact body type he craved—full breasts and hips, cinched in but not obnoxiously small waist, long hair, and legs that went on and on… and on. “And, um, Evan?”

He jumped back, hearing his name again.

“Yeah, my eyes are up here. But never mind. I’m used to being ogled, and by way more successful brewery owners than you.” She held his business card between thumb and forefinger, as if it were made of dog shit. “Tell you what, why don’t you let me ponder your… proposal. And assume that your eye-fucking session won’t happen again.”

She turned from him and walked away without a word. Her assistant shrugged and followed her back in, leaving Evan breathless, furious, and never more aware of his neglected libido.

rated X: One of Evan's early lessons ....

“Welcome to Club Piquant,” the voice spoke near Evan’s ear, startling him. “As a newly invited initiate, tonight will be merely a show for your titillation. Once it is determined that you are an appropriate addition to our group, based on member evaluations, you will be contacted for another visit. In the meantime, please relax and enjoy.”

A leather chair appeared from the gloom. Evan looked around, then took the seat, disappointed but intrigued. He could hear Jack’s voice, his laughter low and inviting. What the fuck? Was Gordon getting in on action while he had to watch? Then he heard Jenna’s annoying giggle and realized the club must be making her watch too, only she got to do it with her date. He sighed, leaned back, and prepared himself to be underwhelmed.

“No,” a sexy, rough female voice broke through the clamor in his head. It must have surprised everyone because all the people on the couches glanced up. “I want him. Out here.” Evan looked straight at her and saw the hot-as-shit Domme point her bullwhip right at him. He gulped, actually looked around like a dork, thinking there must be someone behind him. He was no sub.

She crooked her finger, her ruby-red moist lips drawing his gaze and making him feel positively hypnotized. His cock kept up its painful pressure along the inside of his zipper. A drop of sweat formed on his temple but he couldn’t move his arms to brush it away. All he knew… was her.

“Mr. Adams,” the disembodied voice said. “Your presence has been requested by our Mistress. Please. Do not make her wait.” The sheer curtain separating him from the crowd parted as he stood. Shoving his hands in his pockets and no longer aware of anything at all but what he wanted right now, he took the few steps down to the main floor.

“Stop!” She held up a hand. “Do not come any closer until I tell you.” She snapped her fingers. A tall man dressed only in leather pants emerged from somewhere to her left. A woman approached him, smiling and holding out a tray filled with…. He stared, then shook his head, backing away, his brain on fire and his body in flight mode. “Where are you going, slave?” The woman cracked her whip. Evan sensed its bite near his cheek.

“I am no one’s slave,” he croaked out, sounding like a whiney kid.

“Perhaps. But I am not just anyone.” Before he could catch a breath, the woman was in his space. He kept his hands at his sides, knowing if he touched her he would be punished. Her full lips were inches from his. She leaned in, placed a tender kiss on his cheek, then stepped back.

“The Mistress has chosen!” the voice boomed and the room heaved a collective sigh. Evan whipped his head around, suddenly terrified and hornier than he had been in his entire existence. He closed his eyes as a loud whooshing sound started echoing around in his head in perfect time with his heartbeat. He held his ground, biting the inside of his cheek raw to keep from falling to his knees and kissing his way up her shiny patent leather shoe. The woman stood, the cape-like cloak draped around her tall, perfect body. He couldn’t move and had no idea what to do now anyway.

She took two long steps and was back in his space, tugging his tie, lifting it free of his collar and letting her lips linger over his, tempting, teasing, and bringing his body to full attention from his scalp to his toes. What in the hell was going on here? He was a sub? But the whooshing sound would not stop; it deafened him and he started to shake. The woman put her hands on his shoulders and kept kissing him just enough to make him insane. Disembodied hands removed his suit coat. Then, with a powerful jerk, She ripped his dress shirt into two scraps of expensive cotton that hung from his wrists.

His nipples hardened, his skin broke out in goose bumps. More bodiless hands unfastened his cuffs and took what remained of his shirt away. The woman kept smiling, trailing her fingertip down his chest. Evan’s lungs hurt he was breathing so hard.

“You are very….” She leaned in and touched her tongue to a nipple, making him gasp. “In need of….” She licked her way across his chest to the other hardened nub of flesh and bit, hard, making him yelp and grunt to distract himself from coming in his trousers. “A lesson in what it means to wield control.”

She unfurled the whip, keeping her lips on his skin, licking and nibbling her way up his neck as he stood, fists clenched and teeth grinding. Then she bit down on his lower lip, bringing tears to his eyes and yet more urgency to fuck. What was happening to him?

“Sit.” She shoved him down. Evan dropped, hoping someone had put a chair there. His ass hit leather and wood. Watching mesmerized as she dug a sharp heel into his still-covered thigh. The pulsing behind his zipper had reached a level he’d never experienced. It was as if he were already coming, in his head, trying to relieve the pressure without actually ejaculating. This was a total goddamn trip. He sighed, looked up at the ceiling.

“Don’t look away from me, slave.” Her rough voice made the whooshing sound return between his ears. She snapped her fingers. Two nearly naked women scuttled to his side, undid his belt, unzipped his pants, and pulled off his shoes while removing his trousers, leaving only his tie and boxers.

“Holy fucking mother of… ah!” he cried out, unable to stop when the woman stood over him, her warm, inviting sex right at his eye level. Other hands rubbed, teased him through his underwear. But he kept his eyes trained up as he sucked in a lungful of her heady scent.

“You think this is all there is, don’t you, boy?” The woman’s voice filled his head. “Your giant cock and what you can do with it.” She stepped away from him, flicking her whip at his inner thighs, breaking up the pleasure with a bite of pain that made him curse and lean forward. The lovely, soft hands that had been on his aching shaft disappeared. “Oh no you don’t. You sit; you take, and you do not come. For any reason. If you do, I will make you very,” she slid the handle of the whip along his reddened inner leg, “very sorry. Are we clear? Dear?”

Tah Dah!!!! The Countdown Begins....

Introducing the OFFICIAL kick off post....the ESCALATION CLAUSE countdown to release has begun!
*insert confetti toss and fist pump, plus distinctive beer glass clink*


Escalation Clause: Stewart Realty Book 6 releases November 4, 2012 with a book signing at Nicola's Bookstore in Ann Arbor!

I am so honored to be continuing this series. There are 2 more books planned within its scope plus the off shoot Black Jack Gentlemen Series and a potential series involving The Suite in Detroit.

So here are the Need to Knows:
the cover

the blurb:

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Young love burns hot and bright. Soul mates are found, then lost in the blink of an eye. When young widow Maureen Gordon Taylor meets her daughter's sexy soccer coach, her body and heart slowly unthaw.  But will holding tight to the past cost her a future?  

A devastating blow shatters a family's fragile happiness. Rob Freitag and Lila Warren now confront life without the emotional glue that once bound them, but a shared goal brings them back together. Is it enough to make them whole again and become the family they were meant to be?

Mutual trust is hard won for the Gordons.  When tragedy strikes, Jack and Sara’s lives are sent into a tailspin.  To keep her family from falling apart, she must force Jack to admit his deepest fears. After everything they’ve been through, can they revive the spark and move to the next stage of marital fulfillment?

The sweeping saga of the Stewart Realty series continues as long-time friends learn to rely on each other, and to grab hold of happiness before it's too late. 

the excerpts (rated)
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PG 13 for language:

The sunlight pierced the light haze of his sleep. Brandis groaned, rolled over seeking shade and found himself hand-and-kneeing it facing the brick pavers of his parents’ patio. “Christ in a sidecar what time is it?” He mumbled, flipping around so he sat, back against the chaise lounge that must have served as his bed for the night. Not that he recalled anything after the second joint. He groaned and ran a hand down his already sweaty face.

Jack walked out the back door, Mountain Dew in hand, dressed for work at his father’s construction site for the day. Brandis blinked at his friend. “How in the hell can be so awake and non-hung over? I feel like three day old shit.”

“You look like it, too.” Jack slammed the remaining soda and threw the can into the returnables' bin. “You taking those back today? We need food at the house while you’re at it.”

Brandis flipped him off. “I look like your personal shopper?”

“No,” Jack sat, laced his work boots up then leveled a deep blue stare at him. “You look like a guy lucky enough not to have to work on the Saturday after a giant pool party.” His friend leaned forward on his knees and gave Brandis an ominous look. “You also look like the guy who could possibly be messing around with my sister. I don’t recommend you be that guy. Not at all.”

“I’m…” Brandis started to say something, but he had nothing, so he stayed quiet. Jack stared him down, turned on his heel then left, letting the gate bang loud behind him. Brandis crawled to the edge of the pool, noted all the shit he needed to clean out of it including at least two condoms, then stuck his feet into the cold water, groaning when his temples started pounding to the beat of his heart. He put his head in his hands. Mo was the first thing he saw when he closed his eyes. Her bright blue eyes snapping with laughter, anger, and…desire … God help him, he had nursed a crush on her for years.

She’d been such a tomboy, running with him and Jack, tagging along then joining in the baseball, basketball, soccer whatever they concocted, up to and including egg throwing at Halloween and more less innocent vices. Their easy camaraderie had always allowed them to wrestle, to tickle, to touch. After she’d shown up at his house last month, determined to escape her jerk-off father, he thought he could just ease back into it. But, he hadn’t seen her in over a year, and in that time, she had become a full-fledged, jaw-dropping woman. Her tall, athletic frame was lush, lovely, full-hipped and inviting. The deep blue of her eyes and inky black fall of her hair made him want to bury his hands in it, to kiss her until she begged for more.

So, it seemed, his crush had bloomed into full-blown lust. A desire she apparently matched.

 No way.

He’d heard Jack’s message loud and clear. And as much of a man-whore as Brandis was, he was a loyal friend. So, Mo was off limits. Fine. He did not need that hassle, not now, with just a month and a half before he left for Colorado.

He leaned back on his hands and willed his cock soft, but the memory of her lips, and the feel of her skin against his if just for that one moment was not something he would soon forget. When he’d fucked that girl in the basement then realized Mo had been down there, watching them, it had taken him a couple of seconds to acknowledge he’d been picturing her beneath him, her body taking his, the sounds of her climax in his ears the entire time.

What a fucking mess.

“Hey,” he nearly jumped a mile into the air at the sound of her voice. “I, um, just want to say, you know, well…” She sat a couple of feet from him and let her feet dangle in the water. “Sorry.” She looked straight ahead.

“For what?” He cleared his throat, nervous beyond belief.

“For spying on you. I mean, I wasn’t, I was getting a drink and just kind of … oh hell. You know what I mean.” She looked down into the water. “This pool is disgusting.” She shoved a greasy looking floating seat away with her foot. “Are those…” She pointed to the used rubbers on the bottom.

“Yeah,” he ran a hand down his face, then jumped up and grabbed the skimmer. He cleared the condoms, a bottle of sunscreen and three beer cans from the pool, trying to ignore her. But his baser self would not cooperate and he had to grab a towel and fasten it around his waist to hide the damn tent in his shorts. She moved all the chairs back into their usual places and cleaned off the two glass-topped tables, finding yet another rubber in the grass near the back fence.

“You guys sure do know how to throw a party.” She smiled at him, lifting his heart and making his damn cock pound in time with his headache.

“Huh,” he grunted, before turning the water on to refill the pool and taking a reading on the chemicals. Sweat dripped off his forehead, blurring his vision. Fuck it was hot out already and it was barely eight o’clock in the morning. She crouched down next to him, her arm grazing his, making him flinch. Crush, Brandis. Remember? She is a no-go zone. Don’t do it.

PG:

Sara handed Lila another tissue, but her own eyes stayed dry. Observing the slow dissolution of her brother’s remaining family hurt, but pretty much everything hurt these days.

It was just, as they say, one more thing.

She patted the woman’s shaking shoulders, listened to her rant about Rob. But she hardly heard anything. The bubble wrap that seemed to encase her had not loosened as she hoped and prayed it would. And after a year, the wall between her and Jack approached Chinese construction standards. She watched, numb, while Katie and Maddie rolled around on the floor with their little brothers.

“Sara,” Lila said.

She turned her head slowly, noted she was late for work . “Yeah, sorry.” She tried a smile, but the other woman’s face remained frowning.

“Are you okay?” Lila’s black hair was shorter these days, and framed her heart-shaped face. Sara tried to focus on anything beyond that. Katie yelled when one of the little boys bopped her on the head with a plastic toy. The dog barked, wanting food. Her head pounded, throat ached with unshed tears. People needed her. She rose, pressed her skirt down.

“Yes, no, who knows. But I am late for work. Will you be all right here with all this chaos?” She pointed to the kids on the floor. “The nanny will be here at noon. I … Jack was supposed to be home already.” she looked up, confused when she heard the door open, and the clink of keys, watch and fountain pen being deposited in their appointed spaces on the table by the front door. “He flew in on the red eye from the west coast last night,” Sara sat back down, suddenly exhausted and needing her husband’s arms around her more than her next meal.

Jack strolled in, still dressed in dark suit pants and a thoroughly travel-wrinkled white shirt. Her heart did its usual roll at the sight of him. But he didn’t look at her. More than once she’d demanded time to talk, requested his undivided attention for some serious conversation about his distance. He kept coming up with excuses to avoid her and given how chaotic their lives were with two kids, a dog and very busy careers, excuses were easy to come by. So she had held back the one thing she knew he required, telling him flat out that she would not be sleeping with him until they cleared the air with a long talk. They had not had sex, or actually exchanged words beyond the necessary logistics of work and children for seven months.

Jack smiled down at Katie who’d latched onto him, kissed her and was staring down at the two little boys. Brandis was standing up holding onto the couch, a recent trick and one Sara had dreaded since it meant mobility for a kid who was never still anyway. He made his slow way to the edge of the leather ottoman glaring at Gabriel whose bright blond hair was back lit from the sun coming through the large window. They were in a mortal battle over a single dump truck and warfare was escalating fast. Brandis had already pushed Gabe down on his butt once, but the other boy quickly recovered. In a funny toddler attempt at diversion, he’d handed Brandis a matchbox car giving Gabe enough time to grab the obnoxiously orange truck and drop to his knees to make a swift crawling getaway. Since Brandis seemed stuck hanging onto the furniture, he wailed and threw the car, hitting his sister in the temple, then dropped to all fours and chased Gabe to the kitchen. Katie followed them. “Mom!” She yelled. “They’re feeding the dog Cheerios. That okay?”

By the time Jack had arrived Brandis was in full-throated fury, just as Sara was trying to leave the house. The boy made a crawling beeline for his father, and Gabe followed. He was already pretty steady on his feet, the cheap plastic toy clutched to his chest as if it were the Hope diamond. The dog brought up the rear, lapping up the little round circles of processed sugar dropped in their wake.

“Hey sport,” Jack plucked his son from the floor, kissed him then did a double take when he saw the other boy. “Well hello there. Little Rob. Wow.”

Sara watched the scene unfold, silent, but thankful he at least acknowledged his own son. Since Brandis had such a raging temper he was usually screaming about something or throwing things or in his crib for a time out, which meant Jack could ignore him, leaving the discipline to her. Gabe stared up at Jack, thumb in his mouth, the truck still held tight.

“Pa!” Brandis glared at his father. “Mine.” He pointed down at Gabe. Brandis had developed clear speech patterns early and was on the verge of walking at a year as well. The kid was an eerie mirror image of the man holding him, Sara observed for the thousandth time. Jack bent down and put Brandis on the floor. The boy lunged for the truck but his father held him back.

“No. Share,” he said, reaching over and snagging one of the zillions of trucks scattered around the room. “Yours.” He pressed an identical cheap blue dump truck to Brandis’ small chest. The boy’s face lit up with joy and he dropped to all fours and rolled the thing back to the kitchen with Gabe tottering along behind, so they could resume kitchen demolition by cereal. The eager dog scampered after them.

XXX:

“It’s not rocket science. Neither of you guys were cut out to manage a restaurant that’s all. You wanted to manage your kitchen, Blake his brewery. And you kept hiring dumbasses to handle the front of the house for you. I’m organized and know how to deal with the staff. No big deal.” She started to sit but Rob gripped her arm.

“Please, come back home, Lila. I…I miss you, I miss us so much.”

She shivered at his words. “I don’t know, Rob. I mean, maybe you and I aren’t meant to be. Not without—”

Rob’s broad shoulders slumped and he looked so completely bereft it was almost funny, if it weren’t so shitty. She let her gaze travel down his apron-covered torso and her palm itched to untie it, to hold him and kiss him until he couldn’t stand it another minute. A bright pulse of erotic energy hit her core, making her gasp. She watched him clench and unclench his fists, then sit again, running his hand through his hair. She couldn’t resist. She touched it, ran her fingers through its silky yellow softness.

The bartenders called out and she waved to them. The main lights flickered then went off, plunging them into dark. His eyes held hers, their deep brown lit from the street. “I need you,” she whispered. Then she pulled him to his feet, wrapped herself around him. The kiss spoke words she wished she could say, and hoped he heard.

Just when he gripped her hair to hold her closer she tore herself away. “I need this,” she whispered as she untied his apron. He stayed still as it dropped to the floor and she popped the button on his jeans. “Please,” she leaned into his ear as she slid the zipper down and fisted his shaft. He groaned as she pushed him back towards the bar then went down on her knees. He tasted just like she remembered, and the tilt of hips, the sweet sound of his moans as she kept her fist moving and sucked the head of his cock between her lips were like music to her ears.

She slipped her other hand under his balls, stroked the smooth skin there. He gripped her hair. “Lila,” He grunted. “Stop.” But she didn’t.

Suddenly she was on her feet, folded into his arms and he was bending her back over the table, sending all their charts, phones and one empty beer glass to the floor. He ripped her panties off with one flick of his wrist, shoved her skirt up. “Oh, yes. Robert,” she threaded her fingers in his hair, met his lips and they cried out as one. The glorious feel of her man inside her, finally, again, made her want to cry but she didn’t. “Fuck me, hard. Now.”

“God,” He gripped her ass, thrust deep and slow then withdrew, biting down on her lower lip when she tightened herself around him. “Oh hell yes,” He moaned into her neck increasing his rhythm, pounding into her, making the table’s iron base screech against the concrete floor. She wrapped her legs around him, leaned her head back and let the orgasm lift her, take her and spin her around. “Damn, I have missed that,” He said, looking deep into her soul as she pulsed and thrummed from the climax.

She held his face in her hands, kept moving her hips. “Come now, Robert. Give it to me. Give me all of it.” He shuddered, then kissed her and did as he was told. She shivered, held him close. “I love you. But I’m not moving back in. Not yet. We have a long way to go and I want to make sure you’re sure. That you aren’t just doing this because you think you have to. Because of Gabe, or Blake’s memory or whatever.”

He withdrew from her, stood, and zipped his jeans back up. She sat on the edge of the table, terrified but certain.

“That’s fine,” he picked up the apron. “I’ll get the broom.” He started to turn but she grabbed his arm.

“Don’t shut down on me. I mean it. I want us to handle this together. To grieve together. And I want to plan a two-year memorial for him at the lake house.”

Rob shut his eyes. But she kept talking. “Listen to me, please.” He opened them, and the pain there she knew matched what she felt every damn day. “I want you, I want us to be together. I want another baby. I want to sell that house filled with everything that was Blake and buy another one. But I want something else even more. I want you to be certain you really love me.”

He sucked in a breath, let the silence spin out about a half minute too long for her taste. She let go of him. “I’ll clean it up. Go home. Gabe’s at your house this week, and we both know he won’t sleep unless you’re there.”

Rob opened his mouth, but Lila shook her head. Proud of herself but at the same time in misery for what she may still yet lose, she watched as he went out the back door of the kitchen without another word.

and........hold onto your panties kids.....the trailer!  (it rocks)


the buy links:
Stewart Realty series books 1-5 AND a pre-order link for the paperback of Escalation Clause

Pre order for Ebook of Escalation Clause (all formats)

FLOOR TIME (book one) is kick ass and taking names sales-wise!  Get started on this compelling series today!  You still have time to read the first 5.....

Click here for my favorite excerpts from the first three.


Arriba!
Liz

Trailer Time!

Liz's Best Selling Realty series has a new installment coming Saturday, August 25!

Blurb:  

Craig Robinson and Suzanne Baxter had no reason to meet, no real excuse to be friends. But when heart calls to heart...blood to blood...should two people who seem destined to be together heed the spin of Fate's wheel? 





Craig spent years floating through life on cruise control, using directionless jobs, his rock band, swimming, and a string of older women in his bed to smother feelings of loneliness and loss.  He finally thought he had found his true love in one Sara Thornton -- A sexy, beautiful, fellow real estate agent and mentor. But his self-doubt and innate sense of failure is only reinforced when he realizes her heart belongs to another man.  





When Sara introduces him to Suzanne, a woman fighting her own demons from an abusive marriage and subsequent feelings of inadequacy and deep unhappiness, that chance moment snaps Craig's hazy existence into crystal clear focus.  A bond born of instant physical attraction is nurtured by time and shared experience, and plenty of erotic energy.  





 As Suzanne's past continues to haunt her, making her push Craig away just as he thinks he’s getting closer, each of them must come to terms with their true selves and face their ultimate realities. 

Rated PG Excerpt:  

He smiled, and kept his distance. Something in her stance told him she wanted that.  Contenting himself with looking at her a second, taking in the delicate features of her expressive face he waited while she shut the door behind her, and visibly squared her shoulders as if girding herself for battle. “Listen,” he said, putting a hand on her elbow and ignoring her slight flinch. “Let’s play a game.” She shot him an odd look. “No, no hear me out. Let’s just pretend this isn’t a date. We’ll just say we’re going to mutually enjoy a musical performance, then share a meal and a beer and then I’ll drive you home because it’s just more convenient to take one car instead of two. You know, because I’m so into being environmentally correct and all.”

She smiled, and his heart clenched. Oh crap. He was doing it again. Falling for an older woman. But this time it felt very very real and that terrified him. He kept his tone light. She elbowed his side. “All right, humor me. That’s fine. But I get to decide at the end if we share a friendly kiss. How about that?”

Craig tried not to smile too widely. He felt like a teenager on his first date ever as he opened the door and handed her up into his SUV. She stayed quiet during the short drive from her Barton Hills mansion to downtown. He crawled around looking for a parking spot, letting her keep her silence. It wasn’t awkward really so he decided not to fill it with useless chatter. “Thanks,” she said as he came around and helped her out of the truck. “Tell me about this band we’re going to see.”

Relieved, he gave her a brief history of the Paul Thorn trio, a bluesy-folk group out of New Orleans. They took their place in line outside The Ark, one of Ann Arbor’s best places to hear live music. She leaned into him as he ran his mouth, and he put what he hoped felt like a casual arm around her shoulders. She felt one hundred percent perfect to him and he tried hard not giving him a perfect excuse to do just that. He put his lips to her hair, closed his eyes a split second as the incredible blend of scents that were quintessentially Suzanne crawled into his brain—a sweetness tinged with heat, like cinnamon laced with a malty richness that he figured must be in her pores by now having spent so much time in a working brewery. It was amazing.

By the time the concert was over he’d had a chance to stare at her in the darkened venue, admiring the way she sipped her beer, talked to all the people who knew her, everything about her really. He gave himself a mental smack and refocused on being casual, friendly. But his body was sending him some serious “I want” signals he recognized. He guided her out afterward, keeping a hand in the small of her back. As promised they shared a meal, a beer and he barely remembered anything that came out of his mouth, or went into it he was so damn lost in her by now. Her jokey sarcasm matched his, she loved all the same foods he did, and he adored how she would go off on a tangent about beer at the slightest provocation.

He sipped his hoppy ale and smiled at her.

“What?” She blushed and put a hand to her face making his body react in an alarming way to the sight. He shifted, making room for his suddenly stiff zipper. “I’m sorry, I go on sometimes.”

“Huh?” he put his pint glass down. “You had me at abv’s then lost me at “house ale yeast” but I could listen to you read a menu I think…now.” He looked down, embarrassed by the admission. He jumped when she put her hand on his.

“Okay so now we are on a date it’s pretty clear and I have a question for you. It’s kind of important to me but I don’t want to…you know…freak you out or anything.” She stopped, picked up her glass and he got mesmerized all over again by her lips as they caressed the edge of it, by the perfect line of her neck as she swallowed.

“Sure.” He swallowed, trying to regain his composure. Craig would look back many years and many heartbreaks later and realize that that split second was a fork in the road for him. He wanted to follow her wherever she went and steeled himself for whatever tough question she had. It could be anything and he dreaded the “didn’t I see you naked with a guitar on the cover of a gay porn book?”

“When are you going to take me swimming?” She put the glass down, put her chin on her hands and batted her eyes at him.

He blew out a breath and sat back, trying to process it. Then chuckled. “Damn woman, you know how to throw a guy off.” He ran a hand down his face, leaned back further. “How about…now?”

 He stood, threw some money on the table and held out a hand. She slid her palm into it and he tugged her close, no longer caring what she thought about being in her personal space. He planned to get even closer tonight. She looked up at him. “I’m about to initiate the friendly kiss,” he whispered as the room shrunk to the two of them. “You good with that?”

She nodded. He touched his lips to hers, softly, determined to go at a pace she could handle but by the time he heard the first cat calls of “get a room kids” from the other diners and a round of applause had broken out she had herself wrapped around him so tight and her hands buried in his hair and he was drowning in her. He broke away, but held her close. “Okay then. Good start.” She grinned and blushed again. “I love it when you do that.” He bit back anything more, let her go and held her hand all the way out to the car

RATED EXXXcerpt:

“Craig, sweetie, humor me,” she purred, rising from the bed in her full naked glory and running her hands through his hair, down his face, and settling on his lap. She set the guitar aside and slanted her lips over his. He drowned in her kiss, tried very, very hard not to make this into anything more than sex.  He loved every single one of the women who’d taught him, who’d been drawn to him like bees to a bright flower. But eventually he’d let them go. Lindsay, however, made his whole body shiver and his ears get hot. He wanted her, all of the time. Love? Not likely. But it would do for now.

He smiled at her, stood and slid his shorts off, fisted her dark hair when she got to her knees and sucked him down her throat. He groaned at the absolutely incredible sensation when she slid her expert fingers under his balls and stroked him there, then inched her way towards his ass. He thrust into her mouth grunting with the simple exertion of getting off, yet again. His brain clicked in for some reason at the last minute and he groaned and bent over her, trying to stop about ten seconds too late.  He gripped her hair harder, but she kept up her exquisite suction then her finger slid deep into his ass.

“Fuck!” he cried out, furious at himself but helpless to stop. He came for what felt like an hour, groaning with the effort-slash-pain-slash-pleasure.

She released his cock with one last lick, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and grabbed that infernal camera again. “Craig,” she sighed, “show me.”

He sighed, ran his hands through hair, his cock still hard and throbbing. “Jesus. Whatever,” he flopped down onto the couch and caught his breath. He heard the camera clicking away but ignored it, reaching for his guitar as a sort of shield. He plucked out a tune, sang, his voice croaky with exhaustion and frustration.

She climbed around him, had him sit up, move the guitar so it was just covering his crotch.  She kissed him a lot, ran her hands up and down his bare torso, teasing his nipples to hard peaks then backed off to take yet more fucking pictures. She set the camera down and lit a joint as he strummed and tried to convince himself to make her leave. He’d never been to her place once in all their torrid time together. But had managed to fuck her in every room of his condo, in his cubicle at the dealership, in the rooftop pool, after hours on top of another motorcycle in the dealership. He took a drag, held it in, and then resumed playing. She climbed up on the bed, draped her arms around his neck, and held the joint to his lips. He smoked, played, and before he knew it he was naked, with a cowboy hat on his head, holding the guitar and doing whatever the hell she wanted him to while she snapped away with her infernal fucking camera.

“You putting me on the internet or what?” he gasped at one point after she’d reached down to stroke him again. He grabbed her neck, forced his tongue between her lips, making her moan and mold herself into him. He let the emotion carry him, as he always did. He knew his own weaknesses with women—knew he would love them, fuck them, whatever they wanted, as long as he could get something in return. Something beyond the physical. He had not found it yet and doubted he would with this woman, but she was kind of addicting.

“You wish,” she giggled as she pushed him back on his bed and straddled his hips, rocking into him. He yanked her down, pinched one of her nipples and kissed her hard, letting her get off on him, rubbing her clit against his still half-hard shaft. She moaned, pulsed and sighed, then sat up, her grin evil and infectious.

“I am feeling used right now. Sort of dirty.” He said, his hips already moving again, involuntarily, his cock pulsing with need but his brain shutting down, making him take her arms and shove her off. She flopped over, frowning, but he rose, and made for the kitchen, ignoring her. This whole thing was making him insane, restless, and courting insomnia. He swam for hours, sold bikes, paid his bills and played music. Lindsay occupied his nights. He hated himself, but he could not stop, no matter what he did.

CLICK HERE for the killer trailer....

And you can even PRE ORDER here... but please read the following Caveat:

Dear Loyal Reader:
Conditional Offer is the 5th book in the Stewart Realty story arc and develops the relationship between Craig Robinson and Suzanne Baxter; two not-so-secondary characters from the first four books: Floor Time, Sweat Equity, Closing Costs, and Essence of Time.
Please do not attempt to jump into the Stewart saga with this book. You will be frustrated and might even not like it. And I simply will not allow that.
Also, if you are picking up this oh-so-romantic story of love and redemption between two damaged people, please realize some familiar scenes from the first books are touched on or repeated from different perspectives, with full attention on Craig and Suzanne. Hence, not all conversations will occur verbatim. We all hear things differently, so do my characters.
Well? What are you waiting for? If you haven't started the Stewart Realty saga, go get Floor Time, Sweat Equity, Closing Costs, and Essence of Time, immediately. If you are all caught up with the Stewart gang through Essence of Time... dive in. Craig tells me the water is perfect.
Love, Liz.

coming soon....ESCALATION CLAUSE.... book 6! Jack is BACK baby...