A “take life by the throat” philosophy has always served
Rob well. It keeps him focused, forcing emotions and potential relationships to
take a back seat to his aspirations. But once every obstacle has been conquered
and he’s achieved his goal—executive chef at a famous Chicago restaurant—he
must acknowledge that he has reached his mid-thirties very much alone.
Blake has just jettisoned his dream job—head of a
fast-growing craft microbrewery—to escape from the woman who shattered his
soul. Arriving at a Chicago beer festival prepared to drown his sorrows before
moving on he is miserable and numb.
Fate throws the men together altering their respective
worlds forever.
Once Rob reveals the personal demon that has haunted him
for years, Blake allows himself to fully trust again, and admits he
wants a child. But a mutual attraction evolves out of a business arrangement
with the woman hired as their surrogate, which has the potential to destroy an
already delicate status quo.
But time is of the essence, and becomes the one luxury
they don't have.
An honest depiction of a modern relationship mosaic
reminding us to treasure every single moment we are allowed to love and be
loved.
Essence of Time Excerpt: Rated NC 17 for sexually
explicit scene/implied ménage
The room pulsed with sweaty bodies and music. Rob was
tired, but Blake had wanted to hit this club and he was finding that what made
Blake happy did the same for him. He lifted his glass as Blake looked over at
him, and then was swallowed up by the undulating crowd.
Attractive men, women and everything in between moved
as one body. He tried to repress a surge of jealousy as hands groped all over
Blake’s form. The guy looked damn good, in dark denim jeans and a bright white
shirt that hugged his strong frame like a sexy glove.
“Hey handsome.” A lovely female with long black hair
slid in alongside him, mirroring his stance. She held out her beer bottle and
Rob touched his to it. The soft heat of her exposed skin made his body snap to
attention. He shot her a glance that would speak volumes, if she were
receptive.
She turned, leaned against the rail and let her hair
tumble down her back, the incredible perfection of her breasts clearly exposed
to his gaze. Yeah, he thought, she will do very well. He moved
closer, touched the top of her cleavage, pleased at the quick pebbling of her
skin. She smiled at him, stepped closer. “Mmm….” She sighed as she covered his
lips and probed with her small tongue. Her soft curves fit nicely against him.
When he opened his eyes and spotted Blake sandwiched between a couple of lovely
women, he broke the kiss and cupped the girl’s chin, his brain a whirl of
possibility and his whole body zinging with desire.
“Hey,” he whispered close to her ear. “You up for some
fun tonight?”
“Mai oui.” She bit his earlobe. Putting his
hands on her bare arms, he held her back, shoving down the sudden urge to yank
her into the back room and have her to himself.
“You game for two of us?” He
ran his finger down her neck and across the tops of her breasts.
“Depends.
The other one as hot as you?” She licked her plump lips, took a step into him
and covered his zipper again with her hand. He let himself enjoy it a half a second,
then smiled, turned her around and pointed over her bare shoulder at Blake,
still stuck between the two supermodels, writhing in time to the pounding
techno music. She sucked in a breath. “Really?” Rob leaned in, kissed her
shoulder, ran a hand up her thigh, found her as pantiless as he figured she’d
be. She kept her back to him, her breathing coming in small gasps as he licked
his way up her neck, his fingers busy under her skirt.
“Really.” He pressed his erection against her hip,
relished the soft wet folds at his fingertips. She pulsed under his touch,
moaning when he gave it just the right amount of pressure and speed. “Come for
me, ma petite.” She stiffened, put a hand over her mouth. Rob smiled as
her body shuddered. “Oui, just like that.” He bit down on her shoulder,
slid his fingers from between her legs and sucked them into his mouth as she
gripped the rail, still gasping for breath. He cupped the back of her neck,
tugged her close, kissed her hard and then released her. Turning her slowly once
again, he cupped a breast, ran his thumb over the peaking nipple. “That’s him.
Go, dance, seduce him. I’ll be watching.”
She smiled, grabbed his hand and sucked the fingers
he’d just used to bring her to orgasm in this room full of people into her
small, pert mouth. Then bit his fingertips and released him before sashaying
out onto the dance floor, leaving him standing, his brain humming with
anticipation.
Over the next half hour or so she delivered, in
spades, inserting herself between Blake and one of the chicks dripping off him
with ease, wrapping herself around him and pulling him close. Rob leaned on the
rail and watched, mesmerized, as Blake laughed, danced, and let the girl tease,
touch and dirty dance with him.
He grabbed another beer from
a passing tray, and then caught the two of them in an incredible kiss, Blake’s
hands roaming all over her half-dressed body. Just as Rob started to cut it
short, not sure if he was actually ready to share Blake, the man opened his
eyes and stared straight at Rob. He broke the kiss, turned the girl around and
ground against her from behind. Rob lifted his beer bottle as Blake reached
around and cupped a breast, leaning down to lick her neck. Rob smiled, relaxed,
and let himself be calmed. Blake wanted this. So he did too.
He
put his fingers to his lips again, tasting her, finished the beer, then stalked
out onto the floor, entering the fray and breaking a solid sweat sandwiching
the girl, sneaking kisses with Blake over her head. At one point the girl,
Juliet, he’d discovered, reached up and grabbed his neck and laid a kiss on him
that made him breathless. “You guys are hot as shit. We gonna do this, or
what?” He nodded, grabbed her hand and Blake’s and pulled them out into the
warm Parisian night.
Essence of Time Excerpt
rated: X for explicit, homosexual sex
Rob’s
head pounded. Sweat poured from every inch of his skin. His stomach roiled as
he looked up from the glamorous task of re-bolting toilets to the floor in the
women’s room just hard enough to connect his skull with the metal container for
the whatever the hell women threw away in here. “Shit!” He rubbed the rapidly
forming knot.
and
sat on the cold tile floor, letting the wrench and ratchet dangle from his
shaking fingers. “This is insane. Utterly, completely, totally insane.”
“Nah.”
Jack’s voice floated in from where he was fastening mirrors to the walls.
“Well, maybe. But hey, I’m in it with you so it’s a guaranteed success.”
“Fuck
you,” Rob said, still rubbing his head as he rose. After giving the toilet a
shake to make sure it was seated correctly he wandered out into the hall. He
watched, heart sinking as the newly hired staff set up the tables and chairs
and bar stools that had literally arrived two hours before—approximately twelve
hours before they were due to open to the public with a huge, splashy party.
“Excuse
me.” Blake tapped his shoulder.
Rob
moved aside so the other man could go past him. They hadn’t exchanged much more
than terse, polite words since a giant blow out fight three nights ago over, of
all things, the height of the custom made bar that was the featured centerpiece
of The Local.
Rob
sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair. He had at least two days worth of
real work to get the kitchen set up, integrating used equipment with new and
making sure the sous chef was as good as he claimed to be. They had one day
before the opening. He groaned and leaned against the dark paneled wall,
letting smells of fresh wood, paint, and brewing beer wash over him.
“All
right, I gotta go.” Jack handed him the toolbox and wiped his hands on a towel.
“I think you’re all set with the bathroom stuff. I looked over your electric
panel and figured out the problem but you’re gonna need to pay a licensed
electrician to fix it. Lucky for you I have one on his way now. Thank me
later.” Jack put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh and that brewery drain Blake is
bitching about—he’s right. You’ll need to get that re-trenched and soon. I’m
surprised the city let you get by with it, but whatever.” Rob shot him what he
hoped was a thankful look. Jack burst out laughing. “Dude. It will be fine. Oh,
and that bar,” he pointed to the massive fifty foot, carved blonde wood and
granite edifice that had cost way more than they’d budgeted for, “it’s about
two inches too high.”
“Get
out of my face Gordon, before I stab your eye with a screwdriver.”
Jack
backed away, hands up in mock dismay. “Not many tenants have such a handy
landlord, just saying. See you later—call me if you need anything.”
Five
hours later Rob thought the pain in his shoulders from shifting boxes of
utensils, plates and glassware could possibly be the worst ev er. He sat slumped in a chair, elbows up on the
bar that was very likely a hair too high and tried not to panic. The bar was
stocked, the kitchen set up, more or less, the tables and chairs stood at the
ready. All the expensive yet cheap-looking lighting fixtures now worked thanks
to the electrician Jack had found at the last minute.
He
had his fridge and pantry at the ready, sous chef working through the final
menu details and the god damned bathrooms were perfect. One thing remained. He
lifted his aching head from his arms and sipped from the cold pint glass.
Liquid perfection in the form of a classic Czech pilsner slid down his throat.
The dry bite of the Saaz hops blended with the imported malt setting his taste
buds alight and making him smile in spite of his stress. He downed the fifteen
ounces in minutes, letting it coat his tongue and brain with just the right
amount of residual alcohol.
“You’re
pretty good at this, aren’t you?” He spoke to Blake’s back as the man put the
finishing touches on the tap stand. Six beers had been brewed, with three more
burbling away in the back, doing their fermentation magic. Rob let himself
relax for the first time in months as he watched his lover’s profile while the
other man fiddled around with the handles, the draft lines and everything under
the sun. “I’m sorry.” He was surprised at how strong his voice sounded. But at
that moment he needed to see Blake’s eyes devoid of anger. Blake kept ignoring
him.
Rob
stood and wandered around behind the bar, realizing he’d started the fight and
it was up to him to end it. They were both stretched unbelievably thin, running
on minimal sleep and scary bank loans. The temper had burst out of him over an
innocuous comment Blake made about the bar being too tall, right after Rob had
written a mind-numbingly huge check to the carpenter for the damn thing.
He
put a hand on Blake’s shoulder, felt the other man flinch and look away, but he
kept his hand moving, up Blake’s neck, to his face. He didn’t stop until Blake
had turned to him. “I am sorry. Really.”
needed
Blake to tell him. He needed the man he loved, and was about to jump off the
deep end of brew pub ownership with, to say one simple thing.
Rob
knew he was the emotional Gibraltar of their relationship. Blake was the
creative one, throwing himself into everything he did with energy and
enthusiasm twenty-four seven. But right now he
Blake
swallowed, and leaned into Rob’s hand. Rob tugged him into his arms. Their lips
met, softly at first, then as a tangle of emotion and no small lick of terror
lit his brain Rob shoved his tongue into Blake’s mouth, as the other man ran
clutched at him. His body hummed like a live wire, hardening instantly at the
familiar sensation of Blake’s body pressed against his.
Blake
broke from his lips and put his hands on either side of Rob’s face, his green
eyes bright. “It’s going to be fine,” he said, firmly, before unzipping his own
jeans, then Rob’s and turning the other man around to face the too-tall bar.
Rob groaned as Blake threaded his fingers in his hair, tugged him back against
Blake’s waiting erection. He whispered once more. “It’s all going to be just
fine. But right now I need you. Bad.” He put his leg between Rob’s forcing them
apart. “No lube,” he gasped making Rob’s skin tingle.
“Don’t
care.” Rob gritted his teeth, the need for Blake inside him more ferocious than
he could remember.
Later,
they sat on the floor, sharing another of Blake’s delicious brewed concoctions,
laughing about their too-tall bar christening. Rob handed the half empty glass
back to Blake. His chest hurt with unspoken words. “Thank you.”
Blake
smiled and raised an eyebrow. “For what?” He put a hand on Rob’s denim covered
thigh.
“Well, for that, of course. But for all
of this.” He waved a hand around the empty room. “But mostly for this.” He
leaned in for another kiss.
About Liz Crowe
Amazon best-selling
author, beer blogger and beer marketing expert, mom of three, and soccer fan,
Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. She has decades of experience in sales and
fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a three-continent, ex-pat trailing
spouse. While working as a successful Realtor, Liz made the leap into writing
novels about the same time she agreed to take on marketing and sales for the
Wolverine State Brewing Company.
Most days find her sweating inventory and sales figures for
the brewery, unless she’s writing, editing or sweating promotional efforts for
her latest publications.
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?”). More recently she is garnering
even more fans across genres with her latest novels, which are more
character-driven fiction, while remaining very much “real life.”
With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries,
on the soccer pitch, in successful real estate offices and many 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.
If you are in the Ann Arbor area, be sure and stop into the
Wolverine State Brewing Co. Tap Room—but don’t ask her for anything “like” a
Bud Light, or risk serious injury.
Liz’s Backlist
TRI DESTINY
PUBLISHING
The Stewart Realty series:
Floor Time (2012 Global eBook Award for Best Erotic Fiction)
Sweat Equity (Just Erotic Romance (JERR) Gold Star Award Recipient)
Closing Costs
**Essence of Time (JERR Gold Star Award/ Jenkins Group, Inc. – 2013 eLit
Award Bronze Medal for Erotic Fiction)
Conditional Offer
Escalation Clause
**Mutual Release: (JERR Gold Star Award)
House Rules (Prequel Novella)
**GOOD FAITH the mainstream final
novel
(**indicates “stand alone novel”)
The Black Jack Gentlemen
series:
Man On
Red Card
Shut Out
Standalone Novels:
Paradise Hops: (JERR Gold Star Award)
Honey Red
DECADENT PUBLISHING
The Turkish Delights Series:
Turkish Delights
Blue Cruise
Tulip Princess
The Diplomat’s Daughter
Flower Passage
Cheeky Blonde (novel)
Caught Offside (novella)
Healing Hearts (novella)
ELLORA’S CAVE
PUBLISHING
Lust on Tap (novel)
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