Fueling the Fire
By Liz Crowe
By Liz Crowe
We are all motivated by different things. For some of us it’s money, for others pride,
for some the sheer joy of creation.
I am in awe of all the millions of authors out there who can continue to plug away,
writing along, releasing books and who don’t give a rip who reads them. That sort of
raw creativity—the ability to keep coming up with plots and characters just for the
sake of coming up with plots and characters is pretty darn cool.
I’ve had a fairly prolific, yet short career so far. I’ve had over 20 books published,
with 4 different publishers and am in the process of revising and rewriting the
very first series that made it out there now that I have the rights back from that
publisher. And I have several new ideas floating around in my head, including
one for a more mainstream (read: Not Erotic or Romance) novel that I hope to get
written over the course of early 2014.
But I will tell you now that I am not driven by the pure joy of this very hard work
of writing books. I am driven to succeed at it. It’s a character plus and minus, were
I to map myself. I am fueled by the success of others both positively and negatively.
I sometimes let the green eyed monster get the best of me, and claim I will give up,
if the sort of books that are jumping up into all the best seller lists are indication of
what people actually want to read. But, then I am also propelled forward, eager to
shove my own latest and greatest creation out in front of readers in the search for
the ever-elusive Best Selling Author status.
It can feel like a bit of a hamster wheel sort of thing. But I think I will get there,
eventually. And in the meantime, although I may claim I’m giving up, I won’t. I love
crafting stories and characters even a few people enjoy reading, and so I view it as
a “one reader at a time” kind of battle. I don’t have the massive reach of some, but
I’ve come a long way in a couple of years so leaning patience with myself has been
a lesson I needed to learn. So, yeah, I guess I am “that author”—the one plugging
away and releasing new books with regularity, in hopes of gaining a few more
readers.
The main character of the Stewart Realty series, Jack Gordon, is a guy with similar
impatient tendencies. But he’s tenacious, and rarely gives up on himself. So I look to
him, and as part of that, I wrote a prequel to my top selling series that is his story,
from his point of view. I’m offering it free (on the publisher’s site) or drastically
reduced (everywhere else, just .99 permanently) in hopes that a few more folks will
get drawn into the fold of this epic saga of novels.
Happy Reading!
crafting stories and characters even a few people enjoy reading, and so I view it as
a “one reader at a time” kind of battle. I don’t have the massive reach of some, but
I’ve come a long way in a couple of years so leaning patience with myself has been
a lesson I needed to learn. So, yeah, I guess I am “that author”—the one plugging
away and releasing new books with regularity, in hopes of gaining a few more
readers.
The main character of the Stewart Realty series, Jack Gordon, is a guy with similar
impatient tendencies. But he’s tenacious, and rarely gives up on himself. So I look to
him, and as part of that, I wrote a prequel to my top selling series that is his story,
from his point of view. I’m offering it free (on the publisher’s site) or drastically
reduced (everywhere else, just .99 permanently) in hopes that a few more folks will
get drawn into the fold of this epic saga of novels.
Happy Reading!
************************************EXCERPT******************************************
Détente existed once more between Jack and his father, although Jack
could hardly look at the man without remembering his words, what he said about
Mindy, the woman he’d paid to fuck his own son.
A soft hand on his arm startled him. He turned, smiled, and accepted the
cup the blonde girl held out.
“Thanks, gorgeous.” He leaned into her. “What a scene, huh?” He sipped,
not looking at her but sensing her gaze on him. He knew he looked great.
Between the pure physical labor he put in daily on the job sites, lugging drywall,
holding up trusses, hammering, and carrying every manner of tools around, he
also ran every morning without fail, and did three hundred sit-ups and push-ups
no matter how tired he was. The routine of it soothed him, helped him forget, for
a moment, his fucked-up family life and that he had but a few more weeks before
he could escape to college.
Worry about leaving his sister behind tickled at his conscience but Mo
seemed at ease with her relationship with their father for now. She was a tough
cookie and had a solid set of friends around.
The discipline Jack imposed on himself felt great. The punishing exercise
coupled with the long hours of work and determined study so he could achieve
beyond what his asshole father expected of him centered him, gave him purpose.
Well, that and what he was about to do with the lovely female now under his arm,
giggling and running her hand up his thigh.
He tugged her inside, down to the basement, needing a connection so
badly his teeth ached. She sighed as he eased her down on the couch, kissing
her gently but with purpose, increasing his pressure slowly as his cock sprang to
attention under his swim trunks.
“Mmm…this feels promising,” she declared, reaching into his shorts.
He smiled into her mouth. He’d found one with a little experience—a
pleasant change of pace. She brushed her thumb across his head, making him
shiver. “Hope you’re prepared, big boy,” the girl said with a touch of awe in her
voice when she looked down at what she had in her hand.
Jack sighed and leaned over to snag a condom from the supply he kept
in the drawer of a rarely-used table in the corner. “Like a Boy Scout, sweetheart,”
he said, handing it to her.
She grinned and stood, slipping out of her barely-there bikini and standing
in front of him in all her curvy glory. He licked his lips, sat up, and yanked her
hips close so he could bury his face between her legs. She gripped his hair then
pushed back, forcing him to flop over onto the couch so she could straddle his
He groaned and flicked at the tender button of flesh. He loved pussy,
loved looking at it, licking it, watching it come to life under his careful attention.
The girl was moist, her folds were soft, and she tasted like the sweetest honey.
He sucked her clit, slid a finger inside, and moaned as she gripped him
hard. The knee-jerk girls were the best, he had discovered. They came fast
and typically had no clue that they were among the rarest of women—the multiorgasmic—and his favorite.
He looked up, watched her cup her own breasts and tug her nipples.
Perfect, just perfect. He reached in at an angle, seeking that bundle of nerves
most women possessed, right behind her pubic bone.
“Jesus,” he yelped, nearly coming out of his skin when a soft set of lips
encircled his dick and a finger traced down his balls and lower. “Baby, I didn’t
know this was gonna be a party,” he whispered.
The girl looked down at him and smiled, angling her hips so he kept going
as the other girl sucked his cock like a pro, until he couldn’t hold back another
minute. The girl on his face came again too, completing the moment. The other
girl still palming his balls moaned and jerked forward again, and again. Girl
number one climbed off him, and Jack put his arms under his head and watched
girl number two get fucked by his friend from behind. “Nice,” he said, admiring
the way her tits bounced.
“Her idea,” Brandis ground out then closed his eyes and pounded harder.
Jack reached down to fondle girl number two’s clit, making her eyes fly open at
the last minute. Her lips were so full. He had to kiss them. So he did, and all was
well for everyone in the room.
could hardly look at the man without remembering his words, what he said about
Mindy, the woman he’d paid to fuck his own son.
A soft hand on his arm startled him. He turned, smiled, and accepted the
cup the blonde girl held out.
“Thanks, gorgeous.” He leaned into her. “What a scene, huh?” He sipped,
not looking at her but sensing her gaze on him. He knew he looked great.
Between the pure physical labor he put in daily on the job sites, lugging drywall,
holding up trusses, hammering, and carrying every manner of tools around, he
also ran every morning without fail, and did three hundred sit-ups and push-ups
no matter how tired he was. The routine of it soothed him, helped him forget, for
a moment, his fucked-up family life and that he had but a few more weeks before
he could escape to college.
Worry about leaving his sister behind tickled at his conscience but Mo
seemed at ease with her relationship with their father for now. She was a tough
cookie and had a solid set of friends around.
The discipline Jack imposed on himself felt great. The punishing exercise
coupled with the long hours of work and determined study so he could achieve
beyond what his asshole father expected of him centered him, gave him purpose.
Well, that and what he was about to do with the lovely female now under his arm,
giggling and running her hand up his thigh.
He tugged her inside, down to the basement, needing a connection so
badly his teeth ached. She sighed as he eased her down on the couch, kissing
her gently but with purpose, increasing his pressure slowly as his cock sprang to
attention under his swim trunks.
“Mmm…this feels promising,” she declared, reaching into his shorts.
He smiled into her mouth. He’d found one with a little experience—a
pleasant change of pace. She brushed her thumb across his head, making him
shiver. “Hope you’re prepared, big boy,” the girl said with a touch of awe in her
voice when she looked down at what she had in her hand.
Jack sighed and leaned over to snag a condom from the supply he kept
in the drawer of a rarely-used table in the corner. “Like a Boy Scout, sweetheart,”
he said, handing it to her.
She grinned and stood, slipping out of her barely-there bikini and standing
in front of him in all her curvy glory. He licked his lips, sat up, and yanked her
hips close so he could bury his face between her legs. She gripped his hair then
pushed back, forcing him to flop over onto the couch so she could straddle his
He groaned and flicked at the tender button of flesh. He loved pussy,
loved looking at it, licking it, watching it come to life under his careful attention.
The girl was moist, her folds were soft, and she tasted like the sweetest honey.
He sucked her clit, slid a finger inside, and moaned as she gripped him
hard. The knee-jerk girls were the best, he had discovered. They came fast
and typically had no clue that they were among the rarest of women—the multiorgasmic—and his favorite.
He looked up, watched her cup her own breasts and tug her nipples.
Perfect, just perfect. He reached in at an angle, seeking that bundle of nerves
most women possessed, right behind her pubic bone.
“Jesus,” he yelped, nearly coming out of his skin when a soft set of lips
encircled his dick and a finger traced down his balls and lower. “Baby, I didn’t
know this was gonna be a party,” he whispered.
The girl looked down at him and smiled, angling her hips so he kept going
as the other girl sucked his cock like a pro, until he couldn’t hold back another
minute. The girl on his face came again too, completing the moment. The other
girl still palming his balls moaned and jerked forward again, and again. Girl
number one climbed off him, and Jack put his arms under his head and watched
girl number two get fucked by his friend from behind. “Nice,” he said, admiring
the way her tits bounced.
“Her idea,” Brandis ground out then closed his eyes and pounded harder.
Jack reached down to fondle girl number two’s clit, making her eyes fly open at
the last minute. Her lips were so full. He had to kiss them. So he did, and all was
well for everyone in the room.
**************************************************************************************
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three
teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years
of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her
for life as a successful author.
When she isn’t sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found
writing, editing or implementing promotions for her latest publications. Her groundbreaking literary fiction subgenre, “reality fiction,” has gained thousands of fans
and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What
Happens After?”)
Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views
on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.
For more information on Liz Crowe, please visit her website www.lizcrowe.com or www.brewingpassion.com
(her author blog). She enjoys interacting with her fans on her Facebook author page www.facebook.com/
lizcroweauthor. Information for all of her books, including eBook and print formats (where available), can be found on her Amazon author page.
www.brewingpasssion.com
www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor
www.twitter.com/beerwencha2
www.facebook.com/groups/romanceforreallife
www.facebook.com/jackgordonrealtor
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teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years
of experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer industry), has prepped her
for life as a successful author.
When she isn’t sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found
writing, editing or implementing promotions for her latest publications. Her groundbreaking literary fiction subgenre, “reality fiction,” has gained thousands of fans
and followers who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What
Happens After?”)
Her beer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views
on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high-powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.
For more information on Liz Crowe, please visit her website www.lizcrowe.com or www.brewingpassion.com
(her author blog). She enjoys interacting with her fans on her Facebook author page www.facebook.com/
lizcroweauthor. Information for all of her books, including eBook and print formats (where available), can be found on her Amazon author page.
www.brewingpasssion.com
www.facebook.com/lizcroweauthor
www.twitter.com/beerwencha2
www.facebook.com/groups/romanceforreallife
www.facebook.com/jackgordonrealtor
One of the best, if not best series I've read in a long time. More realistic alpha!
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