Release Day Blues

There is nothing quite like a "RELEASE DAY" to make a writer truly humble.

I mean, you've written, submitted, edited, revised, rewritten, approved art, approved galleys, sweated final edits and promoted your ever loving heart out.  If your'e like me, you talk about the book, its characters and concepts so much you are back to dreaming about it, sort of like you did when you were actually writing the thing.


And Release Day Dawns....You've interviewed and spouted about your "process" so much you are sick of the sound of your own voice. And again, if you're channeling Liz, you spend the entire twenty four hour period staring at the phone, anticipating the call from New York--the agent, the movie deal, you know.  Just because.

Then it hits you. You are just an amoeba on the eyeball of the flea in the drop of water in the ocean of releases that day.  Especially in romance.  Jimminy Christmas there are zillions of you out there...in all formats: vamps, weres, cops, firemen, PTSD-suffering military hunks, dukes, kings, sailors, demons, fairies, cavemen, Scotsmen with irritating brogues, CEOs posing as mail boys, secret babies of oil tycoons...seriously.  You get me.


So you keep blogging, keep posting, keep running your mouth about your process and your craft and your style. But don't forget to WRITE.


Personally, for me, there is nothing like the challenge of a new project to lift me out of the "How in the Aitch-E-Double-Toothpicks am I gonna be HEARD above all this NOISE?" blues.  


I'm working on something of a departure for me. A "Historical" if you will, set in the late 1960's in Istanbul, Turkey. A prequel to my Turkish Delights OneNightStand trilogy coming from Decadent Publishing in November (see how sneaky I am with that promotional crap now?)  I've immersed myself in the 60s, going so far as to keep my Sirius/XM radio tuned to "60's on 6" and using 60's slang around the house (it's keen, really). Because I have never written anything not set in the present day, I struggle with characters who are unable to pick up a cell phone an text each other or skype or email or whatever. But it's a really really romantic novella about a the daughter of an American diplomat who reconnects with her childhood friend in Istanbul later in life and (naturally) falls madly in love with him....and it's entirely inappropriate for them to be together in that day and age.  No matter, of course....it's light on explicit sex, but heavy on emotion and I am LOVING it!

This is the cover for the first of the trilogy....25 years AFTER The Diplomat's Daughter...It will be released November 4. 

Of course, I am in the meantime promoting the you-know-what out of my current spate of releases:
The Tap Room: A choose your romance novel from Breathless Press
Buy it here:
http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thetaproom-601713-144.html
Blurb:

Erin Brady is having a seriously interesting year…

After finding out her alpha banker husband, Bradley, has been cheating on her with his bubble-headed PR girl, she puts all her passion and energy into making her microbrewery a success. Until one business partner, Trent, attempts to rekindle an old flame, and her other partner admits his true feelings for her—what is a woman supposed to do?

Throw the hot new brewer, Jeff, in the mix, and it's a formula for disaster. 

The daily stresses of running a small business, plus the ongoing turmoil in her personal life has Erin escaping to California for an industry event, where she meets Landon, a brewery rock-star-turn-consultant, who has been watching her and her company for a while.

When a family trauma requires her presence in Michigan, Erin is faced with an ex-husband who wishes for a reunion. Caught in the middle of all these men, she's even more confused by what she truly wants or needs. 

Then the ultimate decision forces her into action: Newly acclaimed as the owners of Winter Street Brewing, honored by Inc. Magazine as Top Entrepreneurs, Trent, Owen and Erin face a buyout offer from a much larger brewery. What will she choose? Who will she share it all with?

Excerpt:

"Hey, Erin." She jumped as Jeff’s voice came rocketing through the brewery doors. "Could you come look at this…?" 

Erin stood up from the bar stool still staring at the spreadsheet she’d been studying for the last hour, intending to see what Jeff needed but was then distracted by a ding from her computer. She tucked her hair up into a loose ponytail and glanced at her laptop screen.  

Landon: Hey, I’m giving a talk at the Industry writer’s Conference next week. Why don’t you come out? 

Erin pictured the man she’d formed such a virtual bond with—his social networking profile was far reaching and lots of photos of him abounded especially among journalist groups. Tall and intent-looking, with dark eyes and clean-shaven head, he was one of the most respected industry writers around. He had written the seminal book on starting a brewery, one that had graced her own bookshelf from the beginning. The guy was smart, good looking, and seemingly impressed with what Erin had done with her little Mid-west brewery. Why not go meet him? She had managed to mess everything up here. Maybe a break would help. 

Erin sighed. How in the world she had managed to get herself here, caught between men like this—she had no idea. Her chest tightened as she pictured Owen’s face, his eyes dark with anger the last time they spoke. His remarkable ability to bring out the best in her, but then to ignore her when he couldn’t deal with his feelings was maddening. At least with Jeff she knew exactly where she stood. Her thighs clenched at thought of him.

"Yo, you coming?" The object of her lustful fascination called her again from the other room. "And lock the front door," his low voice teased. "We’re closed."

And 

VEGAS MIRACLE (Rebel Ink Press)

Buy it here:

http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-vegasmiracle-607753-145.html

Ryan and Grace Sullivan have all the outward indications of a happy life: money, success, an undeniable physical attraction that quickly evolved from whirlwind relationship to marriage. But lately, Ryan's become moody and distant. As their relationship starts to crumble, Ryan discovers something about himself he can't admit just as Grace realizes the young man she encounters at an invitation only party, Henri Christophe, a celebrity chef with the most successful restaurant in Las Vegas, is her husband's lover. But Henri holds a secret himself. He wants to be more to both of them.

Trying to make their unconventional arrangement work, Ryan's deep-seated fear of relationship failure continues to thwart everyone's happiness. When he finally walks away instead of confronting the emotional connection the trio share, he returns to find their lives flipped inside out. A sought after hotel and resort consultant, Ryan has yet to meet a problem he couldn't solve. But when it comes to his own heart, he may be too late.

EXCERPT:

Ryan closed his eyes at the sound of the key in the lock.   He didn’t move as Henri entered, made a tsk-tsk sound over the mess in the foyer, grabbed a glass and the bourbon decanter and joined him on the balcony.   The sound of liquid splashing into the glass and the hiss of the fabric as Henri eased back into his chair brought no response from Ryan.  He remained standing, staring at the night sky, unable to form words as his lover of nearly two years sat and watched him in silence.

"Just what, exactly were you hoping to accomplish by fucking my wife?" He finally asked, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon.

Henri stood and leaned over the balcony, mirroring Ryan’s stance.  

"I thought it was why you brought her.  But I'll say, you were right.   She's amazing."  Henri sipped his bourbon and looked at the tall blonde beside him.  

Ryan turned to look into Henri’s deep brown eyes, the eyes that held him the moment they met in France two years ago.    That compulsion, the weekend they shared together, led him places he never imagined he’d go and now he couldn’t give it up.   He shook his head and looked back out over the Detroit River, remorse and dread twisting in his gut.

He shut his eyes once more as he felt Henri’s hands on his shoulders, kneading, smoothing out the tension in his muscles.  

"You can’t distract me.  I’m hugely pissed off at you."

"I know, but at least you won’t be tense so you can really focus on the anger.  Now sit so I can reach you properly."

Ryan sighed, suppressing a smile at the man’s ability to defuse.  It was a talent he wished Grace had. Her tendency was to ramp up the ante, to find the sore spot and grind her heel into it until Ryan lashed out, making the whole thing much worse than it usually was.  Sitting, pouring himself one final splash of bourbon, he let Henri work on his shoulders and upper back, groaning as the knots untied and his neck lost some of its rigid stress.  

"Ow, Jesus," Ryan yelped when Henri’s knuckle dug into his trapezoid.  

"Shut up already," the young man’s voice was airy, relaxed.  "Let me work."

After about twenty solid minutes spent over Ryan’s shoulders and upper back, Henri leaned down to his ear.

"She’ll be okay."  Ryan turned and frowned, wincing as the freshly released nerves in his neck sang out in protest.

"You don’t have to treat her with kid gloves, Ryan.  She’s a grown woman, a successful author. She's used to being on her own.  Just because you swept her off her feet in an admittedly really romantic fashion doesn’t mean she needs to be coddled like some hot house rose."

"I think I know how to handle…"

Henri took his hands off Ryan’s shoulders.  

"You know what, I don’t think you do.  And that’s part of the problem."

Henri flopped into his chair and propped his bare feet up.  Ryan stared at him.  

"I hardly think a guy who managed to stay married about thirty minutes is qualified…"

Henri held a hand up. 

"Don’t be condescending.  I never claimed to know anything about women.  I just think I have a handle on this one—you know, the one we want to share our lives with?"  He raised an eyebrow at Ryan.  

Ryan stood and stalked back inside the condo, calling out over his shoulder.

"How did she get home?"

"I took her."

Ryan stuck his head back outside as he unbuttoned his shirt and yanked it off.  

"Great."

Henri rose to his feet and took the two steps between them quickly, hands on Ryan’s biceps, pinning the taller man against the French doors, his dark eyes angry and hurt.  Ryan glared at him.

"Park the attitude all right?  I’m just trying to fucking help you get over yourself long enough to salvage your marriage.  If you stepped out of your God damned pity party for half a second you’d see that, you ass."   

Ryan’s body reacted to his lover’s closeness as it always did.  His scalp prickled and his skin flushed.   But he set his jaw and pushed back on Henri’s strong chest just enough to make him take a step back.    Henri crossed his arms but didn’t move out of Ryan’s space.  Drawing himself up to his full six feet, six inches, he opened his mouth to retort but watched as his arms reached out and pulled Henri to him.  The young man resisted at first then let himself be drawn into the circle of Ryan’s strong embrace.

There you have it:  Liz is a busy gal.  Follow along including an "In Between Days Blog Hop" with fellow Decadent Author in November at:

www.brewingpassion.com

If you're into the beer side of things join the fun at:

www.a2beerwench.com

cheers

Liz