• http://lizcrowe.com/about-liz/

    Meet Liz Crowe

  • http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00P4GJCL8

    Love Garage - Book 1

  • http://lizcrowe.com/love-brothers-series/

    Coach Love - Book 2

  • http://lizcrowe.com/love-brothers-series/

    Love Brewing - Book 3

  • http://lizcrowe.com/love-brothers-series/

    Family Love - Book 4

  • http://www.amazon.com/Paradise-Hops-Liz-Crowe-ebook/dp/B009QBLIOQ/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1404244590&sr=1-1&keywords=Paradise+Hops

    Paradise Hops

  • http://www.amazon.com/Good-Faith-Stewart-Realty-Crowe-ebook/dp/B00GN6WCHO/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1385839229&sr=1-1&keywords=Good+Faith+Liz+Crowe

    Good Faith (Stewart Realty 8)

  • http://lizcrowe.com/love-brothers-series/

    Love Brothers Series

  • http://lizcrowe.com/the-realtors-series/

    Stewart Realty Series

  • http://lizcrowe.com/standalone-books/

    Standalone Titles

A Tale of Four Covers–The Photography Post

Tuesday, May 19th , 2015

Greetings Liz Fans Plus All The Rest Of You.It’s the 3rd Tuesday of May. Mad Man is over. The Voice is almost over (go JOSHUA DAVIS!). Game Of Thrones jumped one too many sharks on the rape-o-meter. I went to bed last night sweaty with windows open and…


An Unconventional Friday–the Contest Post

Friday, May 15th , 2015

Welcome to the TGIF post in which you will learn how you can win a pack ‘o prizes in exchange for finding a new favorite book.

No, really, it’s that simple.

I’m Liz and I write Unconventional Romance. Worth the Risk. Allow me to offer you a chance to check out one of my books, write a review and be entered to win some cool sh*t!
Oh and if you keep on scrollin’ you’ll discover something SMOKING HOT and NEW from me…..

Every time I get 30 NEW reviews on ANY Liz book I’ll give away a surprise prize pack to one lucky NEW reviewer/Liz Crowe fan.

Prizes include:
Signed book copies
Gift Cards
EXTRA Scenes uploaded for everyone to read
NEW SCENES from a Love Brothers book

And so much more!

How do you enter?

1. Pick a Liz Book. I’ve got several.
2. Post your NEW review on Amazon and Goodreads.
3. Click here and fill out the form that appears.

Baseline numbers of reviews have been recorded. I’ll be keeping a close eye on any new reviews posted. Once we hit the magic number on ANY BOOK, I’ll pick a winner and announce on the Liz Crowe Facebook Fan Page (“like” it and make sure you hit the “receive notifications” using the drop-down menu below the large cover photo right now or you risk not getting notified if you win!) If more than one book gets 30 new reviews between now & July 10 I’ll keep giving away prizes! No cheating. Your new review must be that: “new” and not a copy of someone else’s. I promise you’ll enjoy your Liz Crowe reading experience.

IF YOU ARE A LOYAL LIZ FAN AND HAVE ALREADY POSTED REVIEWS PLEASE HEAD OVER TO MY FACEBOOK CHAT GROUP. Just ask to join if you’re not already a member. I have NOT forgotten about you! There is a pinned post at the top with YOUR special instructions.

BOTH contests (for new fans and for all you wonderful and amazing existing ones) will run through July 10, 2015.

Check me out. I’ll make it worth your while.

(don’t stop reading….the HOTNESS is below this little handy informational set of links)

In the interest of making it super easy for you to find, procure, read and review your LIZ BOOK, here are handy-dandy links:
NOTE: You don’t have to read an entire series to post a review of one book (but you will get hooked on them, guaranteed).
NOTE: Some of these books are FREE and/or WAY CHEAP right now.
NOTE: All the links take you to Amazon but every book except The Love Brothers series is available on B&N/Smashwords and some on Kobo and Ibooks.
The Love Brothers (3.5 books)
Stewart Realty (8.5 books)
Black Jack Gentlemen (3 books)
Turkish Delights (5 books–some are very short)
Vegas Miracle (newly re-released)
Paradise Hops
Honey Red
Cheeky Blonde
Caught Offside 

Healing Hearts

And now…..for your reward (as if me giving you prizes for posting new reviews isn’t enough!) some Liz “Quick Words” (i.e. they are Unedited and fresh from my fevered imagination and over-eager Muse) from FireBrew, an upcoming release as part of a kick ass bundle of BRAND NEW BOOKS from some of your favorite, best selling authors! I’ve never tried a “fire fighter story” so I put my Liz spin on it and it’s gonna rock your world (kind of like George Lattimer III will do)!

NSFW/Over 18 only/rated XX this is your only warning!

From: “FireBrew,” The Liz Style Firefighter Romance, coming soon
All rights reserved.

I made it all the way down to the bathroom and back into my slinky seductress dress and heels before he honored me with his presence. He loomed in the doorway, shirt still unbuttoned, pondering me with a flat expression. “Excuse me,” I said, shouldering past him. He took my hand but I pulled it free. “I’m not in the mood anymore, George. But thanks anyway.”

“Listen to me a minute, will you?”

“Why?” I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m here to get laid, get my world rocked, snap off a piece.” I snapped my fingers, which made him flinch. “I don’t want to marry you. Hell you don’t even have to make me coffee in the morning. I’d be gone before you wake up. I’m like, your god damned dream date.” I passed my hands over my breasts to my waist. Watching his eyes darken, I lifted my skirt and put a finger to my uncovered, still damp, sex. “I like to fuck. Something wrong with that?”

For some odd reason, a tear slipped down my cheek. I swiped it away, dropped my skirt and headed for the stairs. “I don’t have to beg for it though, doll. I know when I’ve worn out my welcome.”

As my foot touched the first step, he tugged me back, turned me and held me close, pressing his lips to my hair and forcing more stupid tears from my burning hot eyes.  The smoke smell soothed me, then pissed me off. I struggled out of his embrace and stared up at him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispered, letting me run my thumb over his full lower lip. “And you haven’t worn out your welcome. I’m..I’m just…” He stopped and moved back from me, hands on his hips. “Stop trying so hard, god damn it.”

 I laughed but was not really amused. “Hard? Oh honey, I don’t have to try at all. That’s why I’m leaving. I don’t need this drama or whatever the fuck it is you’re slinging. I’ll email you the sales agreement. Sign it and agree to his closing date and we’re done.” My heart was whamming against my ribcage, hurting me in way I’d never experienced.

“Are we?” He stepped in front of me as I tried to head upstairs. “Are we really?”

His kiss shut out everything even the rising fury at his behavior. I felt…consumed by it, held close, protected, and at the same time more turned on than ever. Fumbling and unwilling to take no for an answer, I unbuttoned and unzipped his trousers, gripping his length and drawing a sigh from him against my mouth. Dropping to my knees, I took him into my mouth as deep as possible—I have a decent skill set in this area—but found myself actually enjoying it, cupping his balls, with one hand and moaning when he buried his fingers in his my hair.

“Stop. Wait,” he said, loudly and obviously not meaning it. I rose, swiped my lips with the back of my hand and pushed him so he dropped onto the bed. His eyes seemed almost haunted, as he watched me drop to the floor again and resume my position.  His hips moved, up, shoving more into my mouth, gagging me a little but at that moment, all I wanted was one thing. I pulled out all the stops. The light scrapes of my short fingernails along his balls, the stealthy finger tip towards his ass. My body was on high alert and I thought I might very well join him I was so intent on this mission towards a single goal. Which I achieved within a few minutes. His roar of satisfaction made me shiver all over as I swallowed, then sat back on my heels, admiring everything about him from his broad shoulders, closed eyes, and long, wet dick still pulsing and twitching from my efforts.

I got up, towering over him in a way that seemed strange to me. He opened his eyes, then narrowed them when I smiled. “Now we’re done.” I snagged a tissue from a box at his bedside, touched it to my lips and tossed it onto his heaving chest. “I’m a giver, don’t you ever deny it. Watch your email George and thanks for the interesting times this week. Have a nice life.” Not giving him a chance to reply, I ran up the stairs to the deck, swallowed my urge to panic, and climbed up onto the dock.

After sending a quick text to a cab company I trusted, I leaned against his SUV, shaking and bawling like a baby, willing him to come out here and take me back inside while at the same time, praying he would not. He didn’t. 


Permanent Spring Flowers–A Book Tour

Wednesday, May 13th , 2015
Permanent Spring Flowers
by Scott D. Southard


Professor Rebecca Stanley-Wilson is having a very bad season.  The ramifications of one torrid evening with one of the great upcoming painters of his generation, will not only be felt across her life but over the entire art world. Sexy, funny, and very surprising, Permanent Spring Showers is the tale of one very memorable springtime and how it impacts a group of unique artists and dreamers. From the the hopeful Olympian with the failing marriage to the writer who is creating a new literary movement (through outright manipulation) to the romantic wondering what he did wrong to drive away the love of his life, each tale walks the line between reality and fantasy. And waiting at the end of the line is a very important painting… and possibly the revolver used in the Lincoln Assassination.



“What are you thinking? She’s an escort!”

“I’m in love, Steve. After sitting through the first twenty minutes of this lunch, it’s obvious you certainly still remember what that feeling is like.” He pushed his plate forward.

“But Clark…” I began.

He interrupted, “And it’s not like she wants to do that her entire life, Steve, if that is what is troubling you. She is doing it to pay for college.”


I stopped, the car of my mind shifting gears again. “Wait, did you say ‘is’? Do you mean she is still doing it?”

“Well, times are tough all over,” Clark replied far too calmly for my taste. “Have you seen college tuition rates this year?”

“And she’s really in college?” I asked, shocked. I began to wonder if I was on one of those TV shows and a camera was hidden in a bush nearby me.

My shock was perfectly mirrored by the opposite reflection of the casualness of my brother.

“You didn’t think I would marry an idiot did you, Steve? I need to be mentally challenged, you know that. She is studying education; her dream’s to teach third graders.”

“You’re engaged to a hooker…”

“Escort,” he corrected quickly for a third time.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said sarcastically. “You are engaged to an active escort who wants to be an elementary school teacher?”

“Yes,” Clark said with a dramatic point across the table at me. “And Steve, this is where you come in. You need to help me introduce her to mom and dad.”

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Scott D. Southard is the author of A Jane Austen Daydream, Maximilian Standforth and the Case of the Dangerous Dare, My Problem With Doors, Megan, 3 Days in Rome and Me Stuff in addition to his latest release, Permanent Spring Showers. His eclectic writing has also found its way into radio, as Scott was the creator of the radio comedy series The Dante Experience. The production was honored with the Golden Headset Award for Best MultiCast Audio and the Silver Ogle Award for Best Fantasy Audio Production. Scott received his Master’s in writing from the University of Southern California. Scott can be found on the internet via his writing blog “The Musings & Artful Blunders of Scott D. Southard” where he writes on topics ranging from writing, art, books, TV, writing, parenting, life, movies, and writing. He even shares original fiction on the site. His blog can be found at http://sdsouthard.com. Scott is also the fiction book reviewer for WKAR’s daily radio show Current State.


Scott D. Southard will be awarding a $10 Amazon/BN GC to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour.



When Liz Goes NSFW She Makes It Count

Tuesday, May 5th , 2015
Ah, “menage,” shorthand in the romance universe for “menage a trois”  which of course is French for “never in a million years but boy do I wish!”

I have stated my position on the actual fantasy v. reality aspect of this particular sub genre of the zillion dollar romance one and my believe is that it falls firmly and with a loud THUD in the “fantasy” column. But that has not stopped this writer from trying her naughty hand at it (in books, otherwise, well, I’d just be offering way TMI). 

In my considered and somewhat carefully researched opinion, two men are simply not wired to share nicely when it comes to a woman, even if the two in question are just as happy doing each other as her. Most men are too competitive, made that way by natural selection or evolution or however you want to look at it.

But yet it–the glorious prospect of being a women cradled emotionally and physically between two lovely guys–remains one of the hottest (to my somewhat dirty mind) and many times most badly represented romance fantasy options out there. Beyond the physical logistics of the sex act, the emotional balancing act required to keep all corners of the triangular table steady would be beyond most normal human beings’ reach. 

In my erotic reading experience, menages represent the summit, the peak, the 26th mile of actual ability. If you can convince me, a raw unromantic cynic, that this would work, you have talent. Not many authors have but there are a few exceptions. When I wrote Vegas Miracle first, about 6 years ago, it was around the concept of the “sexy Las Vegas experience” of having a private massage in your penthouse suite by a man who turns out not to be a stranger. From there, it seemed natural that another man set the whole thing in motion by way of introduction.

The first scene I wrote, and to my mind is the BEST scene in a book full of them, ends this way…. Enjoy but take note that it is extremely explicit.

from Vegas Miracle
All Rights Reserved

Henri kneaded the flesh of her thigh before moving down to rub each toe, then the sole of her foot, which sent those same zinging, nerve rattling sensations straight up to the top her head. She stretched her hands over her head and allowed the blanket to fall away. Eyes closed, she reveled in the pure sensation of his touch. By the time he switched over to her other leg and placed her foot on his chest again, a low moaning sound had begun in in her throat and shehad to force herself not to grab him and pull him on top of her. He stretched her knee towards her chest. 

“You’re very flexible, yes?” His hoarse voice gave away his feeling about this whole thing.

“Yes,” she breathed, tilting her hips up to make contact with his arm.

The last time he bent her knee,she felt his tongue flick her nipple. She realized he was pulling the sheet off her completely and she gave no resistance. Raising her arms up over her head again, Grace stretched like a cat in the windowsill. 

She heard him make a sound deep in his throat before he ran his strong hands from her shoulders down to her nipples and across her stomach. He stopped to knead her hips once more,then kept moving down her thighs to her calves and then to her sensitized feet. She arched up and gasped as she felt his tongue again, this time right on her clit. He teased her flesh, then sucked briefly,before standing up. 

Grace kept her eyes closed, her body was on fire, every nerve ending crying out for more. But he seemed to be done,so she struggled up to a seated position.

“Would you like a bit more? An internal massage, perhaps?”

“Yes,” she nearly yelled out,then felt herself blush. “I mean…that’s sort of a lame line, though.”

He chuckled. “I’ll work on my lines a little, after this.” His low, accented voice made her shiver.

She finally got a good look at him as he pulled his silk boxers down to reveal his long, thick cock, just as she remembered from that fateful night at the party.  She sat for a minute drinking him in as he brushed his shaggy, dark hair off his brow and put his hands on his hips.  

“Okay. I’ll let it slide this time,” she whispered as she lay back down. How this could be happening to her, she had no idea, but Grace knew if she didn’t get this man inside her right now, she would scream. As he climbed up between her legs and slipped into her, she finally fully relaxed, clutching at his ass to pull him in further.

“Keep your hands up over your head like before,” he demanded as he began to move. 

He leaned down to lick her neck and tug at her nipples while his hips rolled against her, giving her the most perfect contact. She laid back and let him work, feeling every inch of him.And when she came, she gasped at the sheer, sensual, forbidden beauty of it. She touched her own face and her fingers came away wet.

“May I come inside you,” he asked, breathless.

By way of answer, she repositioned her legs so her knees were up against his chest.  She had to feel more and wanted to watch his face. He increased his tempo, his bronzed skin flushed in the candlelight. She sighed as she sensed his warmth explode inside her.

When Henri bent down to kiss her lips and let his tongue caress hers a moment before he raised himself up and off her, she felt more wrong than she ever had, but somehow right at the same time. Pulling the blanket back up to cover her sated body,she stretched again and flipped over. 

When her eyes met Ryan’s across the room,she yelped. Her husband sat directly across from the massage table, a drink in one hand, the other arm stretched over the back of the couch. His eyes shone with the sort of light that made her want to weep.

“How long have you been sitting there,” she demanded.

“Long enough, baby.” He drained his glass, set it on the table and made his way over to her. “Long enough.”

She sighed as he knelt down, pulled her up and kissed her hard and deep. His bourbon-tasting lips were delicious.

 “Did you like your Vegas surprise,” he asked as he pulled her to sitting and wrapped his arms around her. But he pressed his mouth to hers before she could answer. The familiar strength of his body, the crisp feel of his dress shirt against her naked skin, the clean smell of his cologne, all enveloped her at once and she wrapped herself around him, ready to thank him in a way he’d never forget.

Yeah, so fair warning: if you are already a Liz Crowe fan this book will make you sweaty and need a cold shower. If you are NOT and this is your first time with me (I’ll be gentle) note that this book represents the most “traditional” of my romance novels. I really love it and hope you will too.

It’s ONLY $1.99 on all ebook retailing platforms TODAY! CLICK YOUR PREFERRED RETAILER BELOW!

OH! And I’m running a little contest to celebrate. Join in and you could win a 6-month Kindle Unlimited Membership (among other things!)

Liz’s other Menage Fantasy novels include (click each title to read more):
Honey Red 
Essence of Time
Lust on Tap


Tuesdays, Houses, and Horses with Liz

Tuesday, April 28th , 2015
As I type this week’s super important and crucial to your life Liz blog post, I’m doing it with a new view in front of me. Yes, finally, The Move has occurred. The Great Downsizing of 2015 is complete.  The Soon-To-Be-Empty-Nest is now smaller and more manageable (although somehow we now have 3x as big a lawn as we sold).

It’s given me a chance to do a bit of random contemplation, while leaping mounds of cardboard and screwing up my back health by lifting, toting, pushing and shoving. The new improved CN (Crowe’s Nest) is a solid, 1950’s all brick ranch. Just what was on my buyer’s list, albeit a bit further afield from WestSide A2 than I had hoped. But it made a lot of sense, given the price (which was good) and the “bones” (which are beyond solid). Even though I’m subjecting the one remaining Wenchling to “gross well water” (which is being fixed via a series of complex and horrifically expensive filters, Iron Curtains and I don’t know what all) this place has tons of windows and a feeling of solidity that, as a real estate professional, I truly value.

I’ve been in and out of a lot of houses, as you might expect. Everything from legit million dollar mansions to not-so-legit McMansions–from $60k starter homes in Ypsi to half a million dollar Burns Park piles of stucco and faux tudor–from the infamous “penthouse condo” that got my writing juices flowing and birthed an entire series of sexy books set in the Ann Arbor RE world to Old West Side turn of the century wood frame homes—I have tromped the boards in a lot of people’s current and future homes.

I myself have owned three houses, each of them so completely different from the other I can track my own evolution as an adult/parent/spouse/female human along their trajectory. First it was the “Kerrytown House I Never (ever) Should Have Sold.” It was a typical, vaguely 1890’s wood frame with a bizarre sort of back yard driveway. It was fully representative of my Hipster Mom stage–one kid birthed, one in the oven, awesomely cool, early adopted K-town abode. We rocked it but then again we were young and had a lot more energy.

Then we moved overseas for 8 years….

And returned with the Crowe Small Army that included the recently added Soccer Wenchling and moved into the 1960’s Brady Bunch Suburb house. This house, renovated slowly and lovingly over the course of 11 years held our belongings, poodles, holidays and dramas longer than any house in our family history. It was a solid, center entry colonial with a lovely backyard, 2 car attached garage, 4 bedrooms up with the requisite 2.5 bathrooms and full basement. As a RE pro I like to tell people not to “get attached” to houses. I was pretty attached to that one–for a lot of reasons not the least of which I wrote something like 20 books while living there. But, ever practical, we realized we were living in something like 1/8 of the space while still cleaning (well, SOME of us were cleaning) and paying for the whole thing. 

Hence…The Great Downsize Project.

Not it, but close enough….

We had big plans for the place at first and were going to sink a lot of up front money into it but life, as they say, sometimes has Other Plans. And so after a bizarre, 900 square foot condo interim for a few months we are moved into our 1950’s Not So Mid Century Modern Phase. It will be, as was the Brady Bunch House, a work in progress. And I love it, 1950s pink bathroom and all.


VEGAS MIRACLE releases next week. It’s a smoking hot super fantasy (as is any “Menage” story) about one super lucky author and her 2 men. Truly, clear your reading decks (and a path to your cold shower) for this one!

It’s DERBY WEEK in God’s Country! I am happy to say that I have attended this amazing event both as Infield Reveler and as Grown Up in a Dress In a Seat but every year wish I could go again. Lift your mint julep cups in honor of the greatest two minutes in sports! Hey! I know! You could snag and read my Kentucky based self published series The Love Brothers in honor of it, while sipping your bourbon! Just a thought…

PHARMA-WENCHLING graduates from Central Michigan next weekend after taking a Victory Lap (extra year) to get there. He’s committed to and headed for the University of Tennessee Pharmacy School in the fall. This, my beloved fans and followers has made me feel old. But it’s all good and we are all very proud of how he turned things around for himself. Great things ahead for Numero Uno without a doubt!

Wenchlings. In English School Kid Phase.

ENGINEER WENCHLING (the Wenchling Formerly Known as “Dos”) will be making her decision about her next step this week–it’s really one of THOSE weeks, is it not? I’m guessing we will be sending care packages chock full of mittens, hats, and warm socks north (WAAAAAAY North) in the fall.

Writing projects: Let’s see….I’ve written a lot of checks for things like “iron curtain water filters” and “invisible fences” but that’s about it, which is making me a little twitchy. I do have edits coming back soon for HAT TRICK, the Black Jack Gentlemen book 4 project and plan to dive deep into FAMILY LOVE, book 4 (final novel) of that series that is releasing in late August this year over a weekend that should be pretty quiet around here. Because I love you, here is a working excerpt from that “forbidden love” style story that will intertwine with the story of the one Love Sister, Angelique….

Family Love (working, pre-edited excerpt)
Book 4 The Love Brothers Series
Liz Crowe   All Rights Reserved

Coming, August 2015

Lindsay got up with a sigh and climbed back onto the saddle. Her father would be home by now, and he always asked about her first. She’d left behind a real mess—her mama spitting mad, her brother pissed off about his cards and her taking the expensive dressage horse out wilding. After sliding to the ground and pulling Lucy around behind the main barn, hoping to sneak her into the clean up stall unnoticed, Lindsay was surprised to find both of her brothers and her father standing in the door of the barn with a couple of strange men.

Glancing around for one of the stable boys to take her horse so she could sidle up to the house, she got her feet tangled in something and lurched forward, letting go of Lucy’s reigns and dropping to her hands and knees in the dust and hay. Her face burned hot as a forbidden words rose to her lips. Both her brothers cursed like sailors on leave outside their mother’s hearing and she’d picked up some of their habits. The words felt so good coming out of her mouth, she couldn’t help but use them whenever she was around the barns—a place her mother rarely graced with her presence.

“Shit. God damn it.” She flinched when a very warm, very masculine hand took hold of her arm. Thinking it must be one of her brothers, she yanked herself away. “I can get up my own self.”

“Sorry, miss. Just trying to help.”

She scrambled to her feet, and turned, sensing herself move in slow motion, blinking fast like a mole in the daylight. That voice had been a new one—gravely, gruff and low. It reverberated around in her chest in a way that made her both tingly and mad. The man that belonged to the voice stood with his hand on Lucy’s flank, his deep brown eyes boring into her. She tried not to but couldn’t help herself as she took him in—He had thick, coal black hair, olive-colored skin, shoulders as wide as any man’s she’d ever seen, even though he wasn’t a tall, which she’d always claimed to prefer. But if she had to conjure a sultry Italian star for a Hollywood movie, this stranger with the incredible voice, in his jeans, plaid shirt and ratted out cowboy hat, would be a shoe-in.

 His utter foreignness—not just his appearance and voice but the very fact of his presence in her family’s barn—heated every inch of her skin. She kept backing away from him, embarrassing herself even more and then compounding it by whamming her backside into a stack of metal buckets in the cleaning area, sending them clattering down and deafening everyone in the vicinity.

The man didn’t move, other than to keep stroking Lucy to keep her from skittering away from the terrifying clamor. He pushed his hat back and tilted his head as if confused by her, or just amused at her abject clumsiness and idiocy. Lindsay sensed something between them—something she’d poo-pooed when she’d read the romance paperbacks but one of the more clichéd phrases rose in her brain and stuck there, like a candy wrapper in a chain link fence.

Time stood still.

Her face flamed again and she let her embarrassment morph into convenient anger. “What are you staring at?” She’d meant to sound demanding, bossy, as she could be she knew, the more-than-slightly-spoiled daughter of the rich horseman. But her voice cracked, betraying her with its weakness. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth to try again, even as the unbelievably handsome man dressed in dark jeans and a shirt so tight she could discern every muscle in his torso kept her pinned to the wall with his deep, brown gaze.

“Ah there you are,” her father’s voice made her flinch and trip straight into the pile of buckets with another curse. “Lindsay, honey, what has gotten into you. Such language.”

She glared over at the man who’d taken Lucy’s reigns but still had not stopped staring at her like she was some kind of freak show exhibit. “Sorry Daddy,” she said, moving next to him, shivering in the coolness of the barn after the past hour she’d spent in the sun. He put an arm around her shoulders and kissed her hair. “Sweetheart, I’d like you to meet Lorenzo Love.” Her father turned her slightly. A shorter, less compelling but obviously related version of the man with the voice smiled and held out a hand. She shook it trying to parse the words coming out of her father’s mouth. “Lorenzo is our new manager. He’ll be working with Patrick for a few weeks, then he takes over.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said in a whisper, the back of her neck prickling for some reason.

“I hired these boys out from under old Yarrington,” her father said with an obvious bit of pride. “That sonofabitch was hollerin’ at me for sure. But I knew he had some real talent in his back stretch and must have had some seriously good barn management. So, I hired them. Paying them twice what he did, the sorry so-and-so.”

The man with the voice who’d made her brief, naïve life come to a screeching halt with one look, joined Lorenzo. He seemed nervous and a little shell-shocked which gave Lindsay another jolt right through her gut. “This is Tony,” her father said, gesturing to him. “Tony Love. He’ll be his brother’s assistant. All right now boys, I’ve got to get my baby girl up to the house. Her mama has some kind of a dinner party planned, right, sugar? You all see Patrick and he’ll get you settled in your new home. It’s a shared house but is has running water and a kitchen should you want to cook for yourselves. There is always food up at the house, where you’re welcome to eat during the week.”

Lindsay swallowed and nearly choked on her own spit when Tony stepped forward, took her hand in his and pressed it to his lips. “Bellisima,” he said, clear as day. His dark eyes twinkled. His bright white smile blinded her. And that voice—the deep growl of it combined with his over-the-top movie-star Italian looks literally made her hand shake when she yanked it out of his palm.

Her father frowned, then chuckled and smacked Tony hard on the shoulder, sending a message with the force of it. James Halloran Senior was large, in charge and might tolerate the help paying his precious jewel of a daughter a compliment in a fancy foreign language after kissing her hand but only once.

Have a lovely DERBY WEEK! 
Yours in cardboard,
p.s. I sell houses. I’m pretty good at it. Check my website and if you are considering selling in A2 NOW is the time to do it! We call it a “Seller’s Market” but it’s more like a frenzy.