Okay so on this tour stop today there is a lot of information so bear with me. There is info about the author, about the book, and excerpt, information as well as excerpts about books 1 and 3 in this series, the tour schedule, a giveaway and my review. I'm very excited about this tour, but especially this blog because my rating is the first time I've given this particular one since starting my blog. The book was well deserving as well. Liz Crowe is an amazing writer and I'm so glad that I got a chance to read one of her amazing works. Now onto the tour.
About the Author:
Microbrewery owner, best-selling author, beer blogger and journalist, 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.
Where to Stalk Liz:
Website ~ Beer Wench Blog ~ Facebook ~ Twitter ~ Goodreads ~ Facebook Private Group ~ Jack Gordon Facebook Page
Blurb:
Choice makes us individuals.
Love makes us unique.
Metin Sevim has it all. At the pinnacle of international soccer playing success, he has managed to craft a perfect world for himself along the way. When fate strips him of free will and the ability to choose his own path, he retreats from everyone and everything, destroying his hard-won career in the process.
Dragged back from the brink by his desperate family, Metin reluctantly agrees to coach the Black Jack Gentlemen Detroit soccer team but remains debilitated by memories and loss. When a surprising friendship emerges, it renews his passion for life, providing much needed solace...and extreme complications.
A saga of family dynamics and gender politics that cuts across cultures and circumstance, Red Card illustrates the human capacity for forgiveness through the life of one man as he attempts to rebuild his shattered existence.
Information About the Book:
Goodreads ~ B&N ~ Amazon
Excerpt:
Metin studied the attractive woman sitting across from him at the huge kitchen island. Musing that she probably would just as soon pour him a lovely glass of cyanide as sit and drink red wine with him, he smiled, trying not to overreact to her unsubtle hostility.
“So,” she said, sipping and staring at him. “How is Graciella?”
He forced an ever-wider smile. “Fine, I am assuming. She is on a photo shoot in Italy for a month. I haven’t talked to her in…a while.” He lifted the glass to his lips, not breaking eye contact.
Melanie Matthews Miller could be a model herself. Something he was sure she’d heard plenty of times. Her dark brown hair was thick, curly, barely contained by a headband. Dark eyes shone in her angular, handsome face. He noticed that her hand shook when she put her glass on the granite surface. Unable to resist, he reached for it. She yanked it back as if he’d touched a lit match to her flesh. “Your mother must have been a stunning woman.” He said, softly, as if to a cornered, frightened animal.
“Yeah. She was,” Mel polished off her first glass. Metin poured her some more. “Spare me the lecture. I’m not an alcoholic.”
He looked up, shocked. “I wouldn’t think of calling you that.”
“Sure you would. I see it in your eyes.”
“The only thing in my eyes right now is terror.”
She scoffed, left the newly refilled glass on the counter and propped her chin on her hands. The defeated slump of her shoulders made the natural caretaker in him want to soothe. But he knew better than to comfort her, at least at that moment. He took another drink of his wine, and the silence took on a life of its own. Clearing his throat, he put his glass down, deciding if anyone could take him being straightforward, it was this woman.
“I love your sister,” he said.
Mel just stared at him, her face betraying nothing. “No you don’t. You’re just a collector of women. And Alicia is something new and exotic to you. Get over yourself.” Her hard voice fit her. It was as if she had sharp edges he would wound himself on if he were not careful. Her face was nearly perfect—high cheekbones, large expressive eyes. In a different situation, she would be his type. “I won’t let you hurt her, soccer boy. We clear on that?”
He nodded, believing silence was the better part of valor at the moment. “Tell me about him,” he finally said, unable to stop himself. “This man. Your… husband. Who hurt you and made you into this….”
“Bitch?” Her laughter hurt his ears.
“No, that is not what—”
“Yes, it was. It’s okay. I’m getting use to it now. Scott was the guy who swept me off my feet, knocked me up, installed me in a house while he went to work at the bank. I caught him fucking his secretary one day, right in that very house, when I was supposed to be volunteering at Zach’s school.” She gripped her glass, gazing into the middle distance. “I left. Came home to my father’s house with my son. Told him we were through. And started going out, to clubs, bars… you name it. I was a total slut. As I’m sure you will confirm, being the traditionalist that you are. Men can stick their dicks in however many women they want and they are super studs. I go out a few nights, let a few strange men do that to me, and I’m a whore.”
He gulped, forcing away that very reaction, reminding himself that this woman’s life was absolutely none of his business. She glared at him, holding the stem of her wine glass in a death grip. “And then, bam, I was pregnant again. And Scott said he’d take me back, wanted me back, needed me back. Blah blah. Whatever.”
“Oh, um, Tanner is not…”
“No, Metin. I don’t know who Tanner’s father is. How about that for your traditional principals? Shocked enough by me yet?” Her eyes darkened.
He sat up straighter his ire rising at her seeming need to prove how bad she was for some reason. “I don’t shock that easily.”
“Sure you do.” She got up to pace. Her wild, curly hair kept escaping from the headband and haloed her flushed face. In an instant, he saw what appeal she did hold, when she was not being so bitter.
He glanced around. The giant house was freezing, empty, positively cavernous. He couldn’t fathom it. His family was huge, loud, and annoying, but that was a whole hell of a lot better than this empty, echoing space filled with nothing but unhappy people.
“Mom!” An older boy stomped into the kitchen from the laundry room, slamming the garage door behind him. “I thought you were… oh, hello there.”
Metin stood and held out his hand. “Hi. I’m….”
“I know who you are. My mom and aunt have been doing nothing but argue about you lately.”
“Oh, well.” Metin ran a hand through his hair, watching the boy’s body language around his mother. “Sorry, I guess.”
“Nah, it’s cool. They don’t need much excuse to fight.” He dropped his soccer bag to the floor of the kitchen. Metin fought his inner neat freak. His mother never tolerated his soccer kit anywhere but out in their garage. And a cuff to the head was all it took for him to remember it. He and his three brothers had all played, which made for a pretty smelly garage.
“Mom, where’s dinner.”
“Order out,” she said, her voice low and distant.
“Whatever, I’m going out anyway.”
Metin stared as they did their non-communication dance for a few more minutes then got up before the urge to smack the smartass kid upside the head got too strong.
“Sorry, Metin.” Mel’s voice was soft. “We’re hardly the exemplary family. I have no business being mad at you for judging us.”
“I am not judging…. Oh, thank god,” he said when Alicia strode in, her gorgeous face dusted with makeup, amazing curves draped in a silky black dress. “You are beautiful.”
“Thanks.” She blushed, which he loved. “You guys getting along okay? Zach, are you being your usual teenager jerkish self?”
“Sure thing, Auntie.” The kid grabbed a few cookies from the jar and walked out without another word to his own mother.
Metin shook his head.
“Okay, stud. Let’s go to dinner. Or whatever.” She shot a worried glance at her sister, but the other woman kept her back to them. By the time Metin realized Melanie shoulders shook from crying, Alicia was pulling him out of the room.
***Please make sure to check out the other tour stops on the way***
Tour Schedule:
Tuesday, August 20
Wednesday, August 21
Thursday, August 22
Friday, August 23
Saturday, August 24
Sunday, August 25
Tuesday, August 20
Wednesday, August 21
Thursday, August 22
Friday, August 23
Saturday, August 24
Sunday, August 25
Here is Some Information About the Series:
Black Jack
Gentlemen Series
A city and a sport with something
to prove—Meet the men who take that challenge.
The Black Jack Gentlemen—Detroit’s expansion soccer team.
They play hard. And live harder.
The Black Jack
Gentlemen
The newest series by
Liz Crowe
Book
1: Man On (August 2013)
Book
2: Red Card (August 2013)
Book
3: Shut Out (September 2013)
And
Coming Soon…
Book
4: Set Piece
Book
5: Hat Trick
Man On (Black Jack Gentlemen:
Book One)
Bad boy of European football,
Nicolas Garza is about to hit American shores with a vengeance. Signed by the
Detroit Black Jack Gentlemen as lynch pin for their expansion club, Nicco only
half believes he’s making the right move. But with a past full of ghosts and
rotten behavior chasing him from his homeland, he has no real choice.
Parker Rollings is a college
soccer superstar, but his parents’ plans for their only son do not include
professional athletics. When the Black Jacks approach him to finalize their
roster, Parker leaps at the chance to keep playing, leaving behind medical
school, stability and his first and only college sweetheart.
Nicco and Parker face off as
bitter rivals for a coveted starting spot at midfield and are forced to channel
their negative energy into something positive for the sake of the group—and
themselves.
All eyes are on the fledgling
team in its debut season. It’s crucial that the Black Jacks prove all the
doubters wrong. They must make a good showing in the league and with new fans.
But player drama, club dynamics, and misplaced priorities may tear it apart
before it even begins.
Excerpt - Man On:
His
fingertips grazed a small card in his pocket making him wince at the memory of
his first encounter with the team psychologist. He’d set it up one morning
after booting Terry out the door, along with a couple of girls he’d convinced
to come by for some playtime. His head had been pounding, not so much from a
hangover but shame.
When
he had flipped through his expensive-looking orientation packet the words “team
psychologist” had leapt out at him as if connected to a hand that gripped him
by the short hairs. Not a new thing, all teams had one. But, sick of his
bizarre need for constant physical contact—for fucking, he’d corrected, tired
of even glossing over it in his own stupid head—he had been desperate for
someone to simply listen. So, he made the call. And in the meantime, had
enjoyed the workouts with the trainers, the few times he’d scrimmaged around
with some of the other players. They’d all been contracted but not obligated to
do anything for a month but “acclimate to their new surroundings.”
Part
of that acclimation came with the requisite social networking and attendance at
a some high visibility fundraisers—which is where Nicco had hooked up with
Terrance who’d been attending as personal assistant to some politician. He’d
also been encouraged to look around for a place to live with the assistance of
an eager young real estate agent, an adorable, sexy, woman whose name he had
forgotten within minutes of banging her brains out in an empty mini-mansion.
Par for his course, really. But behavior that made him angrier than ever.
His
first session with the psychologist, an earnest, nerdy-looking guy with square
glasses and a cleft chin, had been brutal. But Nicco had deflected, and to his
credit, the shrink had let him front, and show off like a dumb ass for a full
hour.
Then,
just as he was getting up to leave, convinced the whole thing had been a total
waste, the guy looked up at him, pinning him with eyes so sharp and clear they
made Nicco gasp in spite of himself. “Nicco,” he’d said. “When you’re ready to
face up to your addiction, I’m here to listen. I know you have a problem with
sex. You know you have a problem with sex. I’m glad you made this appointment.
Next time, let’s make it more useful, shall we? And for your information, I did
not support the concept of putting you out there as poster boy for gay rights
or gay athletes.”
The
man had removed his glasses, staring Nicco down as if he could see into his
very soul. “I am gay. I have been with the same partner, a man I love dearly
for six years. I understand, on a certain level, what you’re dealing with. So,”
he’d put the glasses back on and glanced down at his tablet computer. “When
will I see you next?”
Now,
Nicco pulled the card from his pocket and stared at the therapist’s name and
phone number. Then ripped it into small pieces as the rest of the new team
filed into the room. He noted two German players he’d had run-ins with in World
Cup play, a South African player who must have cost the casino owners a pretty
penny, at least three Brits, a Welsh guy or maybe Irish, and two South
Americans whose dark, intense good looks made him shiver with memory.
A
handful of fresh-faced young Americans interspersed in the group made him feel
old. And that pissed him off. What was Inez
thinking anyway? There were two per position in the room, two strong
players for each spot—except his. He sipped his water bottle and glared at the
Germans. Nervous tension gnawed at his gut but he kept his face calm. Finally
when their temporary coach showed up and flipped the blinds closed, he relaxed.
So everyone in the room has to
fight for their spot except me? That works. He dropped his feet to the floor at Rafe’s pointed
glance and propped his elbows on the table prepared to ignore the forthcoming
pep talk.
He’d
already made plans for the night and wanted to rest up before hand. This goofy
welcome pep talk would be as good a time as any. Letting his thoughts wander to
the nightclub catering to gay men and promising full discretion, he made
himself stop obsessing over the failed therapy session.
The
door clicked open and all eyes landed on the tall, blond man who walked in,
backpack on his shoulder, dressed to play. Nicco’s scalp tingled at the sight
of him—strong torso, long legs, firm jaw covered with several days’ worth of
fuzz. Good Christ but he was a perfect specimen. Nicco kept his casual stance
but startled when the kid’s bright blue eyes and huge white smile landed on
him.
He
resisted the urge to smile back. Something about the man made Nicco distinctly
uncomfortable but horny at the same time. He suddenly wished he’d held onto the
shrink’s business card.
“And
Parker will be working with you, Nicco.”
Nicco
sat up, knocking his water to the floor as Rafe’s words got his immediate
attention. What the fuck? He stared
at the polite hand the kid stuck in his face then over at Rafe. His throat
closed up between the proximity of the impossibly handsome man and realization
of the fact that the vision of masculine perfection he’d lusted after for the
last few seconds wanted to take his spot on the field.
Oh hell no. He leaned back again and ignored
his brain that clamored for him to be nice, to take the kid’s hand. To smile
and act like an adult.
Instead,
he smirked, ignored him, and turned to face their coach as if suddenly
fascinated by what the guy had to say. Parker stood a minute, and Nicco watched
his face turn red before he sat in the one empty chair nearest the door.
Rafe
passed out new phones, instructed them that they were obliged to “tweet” and
“post profile updates” on Facebook at least three times a day. All shit that
Nicco already knew. Rafe’s hot young lady assistant issued key cards to the
ones who’d just arrived, including the kid Nicco studiously ignored but whose
very presence was making the front of his jeans uncomfortable.
He
shifted in his seat, trying to get control of himself, a bizarre combination of
anger and lust spinning around his brain. The room rose, and Nicco joined them
making their way out into the hallway.
A
gaggle of kids and parents awaited them, and the team spent about an hour
signing soccer balls, slips of paper, jerseys, getting photos for camera
phones. Nicco joined in to prove his ability to schmooze like a pro. At one
point he caught sight of his new young coach with his arm around a tall, attractive,
pregnant woman with coal black hair. Rafe caught his eye and beckoned him over.
“Nicolas
Garza, this is Maureen, my wife and her son, Adam.” A dark-skinned teenager
next to the stunning woman stuck out a hand. Nicco took it, noting the kid’s
own club kit and backpack. He took Maureen’s hand, kissed it, and eyeballed Rafe.
“Well
done, young Rafe. What a vision. How did a loser like yourself rate such
beauty?”
Maureen
frowned but her eyes sparkled. “Spare me, Nicco. I’ve heard all about you.”
“I
have no doubt of that lovely lady.” He gave a short bow. “But may I also say,
congratulations on the coming joy.”
She
smiled at him, and he mirrored her liking her already. He valued women who took
no shit from him. He winked at Rafe and made his way back into the teeming
throng after nodding at the woman’s son who didn’t look that much younger than
his mother’s new husband. But when he turned he immediately locked gazes with
the blond American usurper and his throat closed up. The man stared at him wide-eyed
and innocent, and Nicco had to grip the back of a chair to keep from saying
something utterly stupid.
He’d
wager his left nut that young Parker had never been with a man, but the sheer
sexual energy that poured off him was intoxicating. His fresh, clean good looks
spoke of a typical American, upper class upbringing, expensive soccer clubs and
college scholarships. Shit that Nicco usually despised and denigrated.
He
broke the eye contact and set his jaw. The kid had another think coming if he
honestly believed he’d be taking Nicolas Garza’s place on the team. Pure and
simple, no matter how fevered his sudden fantasy over popping the kid’s cherry.
He ran a hand down his face and swallowed hard. Things had certainly gotten
complicated and then some. But he knew that he had a focus now—keeping his
starting spot ahead of the delectable Parker.
Buy Links:
Shut Out (The Black
Gentlemen: Book Three)
A submissive once, a submissive forever?
A man
on the run from the only life he’s ever known, Brody Vaughn is poised to accept
the Black Jack Gentleman’s newly vacant goalkeeper’s position. It’s a desperate
move, but one he must take to regain his emotional equilibrium. Reeling from
his Mistress’s rejection and on the ragged edge of a total breakdown, he
arrives in Detroit. Numb with thinly veiled grief, he walks into the club’s
front office completely unaware that an encounter with true destiny awaits him.
Sophie
Harrison has seen it all--as Domme, sub, and victim. Now that her complicated
circumstances have landed her as legal counsel for the expansion Black Jacks
team, she holds herself aloof in body and spirit. Nothing and no one gets past
her fiercely guarded walls. Until the day she looks up to greet the new goalie
standing in her doorway, his raw combination of vulnerability and strength
making her breathless.
Two
people, horribly scarred by the excesses of the BDSM lifestyle and hiding from
their true selves, meet across a desk over a simple contract. All bets are off.
Excerpt - Shut Out:
Sophie
kept her chair turned from the office door, unwilling to even acknowledge the
next soccer player awaiting her wise words. Sweaty and exhausted, she had a
bitch of an afternoon low caffeine headache. And talking these over-paid,
over-sexed, full of themselves prima donnas through their final contracts and
benefits packages. However, as head of legal for the team in its third year,
she had a new crop of new players to orient—ten to be exact. And had managed to
do so for the last week.
But
if one more of them waltzed in here reeking of sweat and eyeballing her as if
she were the last crumb on the cookie tray, their flirty high beams blazing, as
if she would ever be interested in any of their little boy bullshit... so help
her. For the thousandth time, she questioned her sanity, taking on this utter crapshoot
of a project.
Oh, right. She shut her eyes a moment,
closing off the memories. Shutting down her natural reaction to pore over them,
poke at them, rip off the scab that had more or less healed over them in an
attempt to start over.
"Hey,"
a deep, syrupy-sounding voice intoned, sending a strange tremor straight down
her spine. "Um, am I in the right place?" It hit her ears as: “’m ah in the raht playce?”
She
swiveled around and shoved her glasses up her nose to get a good look at the
next one standing in her doorway. Her gaze slid from his jet-black hair, along
the strong lines of his stubbled jaw, across his t-shirt clad shoulders. The
Black Jack Gentlemen wore grey when they practiced, in uniforms provided by a
famous shoe company she didn’t recognize with a company logo emblazoned across
the back. And said shirt clung to his sculptured torso in a way that really
ought to be outlawed. All the while, Mr. Southern Accent stood stock still, as
if used to being so frankly appraised.
A
drop of sweat formed at her temple. He cleared his throat so she jerked her
gaze back up to a set of the darkest eyes she had ever encountered. He smiled—a
sweet, lopsided thing that imprinted itself on her retinas in a wholly annoying
way. She tried not to swallow her own tongue.
"Hey…
uh… I'm Brody. Brody Vaughn." He ran a hand through his hair and she
sensed his nervousness as if there were a neon sign over his head. Adorable.
Her radar pinged like mad. But she forced it to shut the hell up. She had no
business thinking about these…these kids
in any way other than purely professional.
So
far they had all been the exact same breed of cocky asshole, alternating
eye-fucking her and extreme boredom in response to her monotonous drone of
legal-ese. Sexy Southern Accent—Brody,
she muttered under her breath—put his hand out, as if to shake hers. His face
reddened charmingly when she raised an eyebrow at his outstretched palm—the
same one he’d just dragged through his sweat soaked hair
She smiled, rising slowly to her feet, needing to be
at his eye level. His eyes widened as he dropped, as if boneless, into the
chair opposite hers without a word. Sophie took a long, calming breath, forcing
her brain to focus in ways she had learned, practiced, utilized for years in
her time as a professional Dominatrix—a woman who took money in exchange for
bringing pain and raw, rough sex to the men who requested her services.
As she shut
the door, keeping her back to the boy... to… Brody…
her pulse kept racing, and her heart continued its disconcerting rhythm, no
matter what tricks she employed—which pissed her off. And that finally, calmed her enough to face him.
“Hello Mr. Vaughn, I’m Sophie Harrison, legal
counsel for the Black Jack Gentlemen. I’ll be explaining the terms of the
contract you or your agent negotiated with our organization.” She kept talking,
using words she’d said a hundred times already. But her own voice echoed around
in her head. She purposely kept her eyes on the paper in front of her, glasses
sliding down her nose. Ignoring the raw, visceral reaction her finely tuned
body and brain were having to the man across from her—Brody, a twenty-five year
old man, she saw on his employee fact sheet.
No, he is a boy,
and you do not play with boys, not anymore.
She
compressed her lips together, pretending to find a non-existent problem with
the stack of legal documents pertaining to his agreement. To his credit, he
stayed silent and very, very still, in a way that intrigued her.
Finally, she met his eyes once more and blinked—then
frowned. “So, another goalkeeper?” she said, fully aware how it would needle
the average, ego-driven high-level athlete. A glimpse at his salary indicated
his golden child status. The keeper that the club had managed to sign, thanks
to the aggressive recruiting activity by their new assistant coach.
She tried out a casual smirk but discarded it. And
the way he just sat, glaring at her as if memorizing her, or hoping to
intimidate her brought a hot flush to her cheeks. God damn it. She straightened
her back, sucked in her gut and forced her thoughts to her next real workout—the
kind she preferred, that involved tight leather, her favorite bull whip, and a
willing submissive.
“You okay there… Miz Harrison?” His voice slithered
around in her brain, nestling in nice and low, gripping the base of her skull
in a way that made her want to jump up and run out of the room. Asshole. She glared at him.
“Of course. I’m fine.” She shoved her glasses back
up nose and slapped the contracts down in front of him, probably a little too
hard, but fuck it. She needed Mr. Brody Vaughn the hell out of her office. She
tried to keep her face neutral, not snarl or growl or snap the poor kid’s head
off.
He shifted in his seat, cleared his throat, and glanced
down at the papers she had pinned under her manicured hand. Which gave her a
well-needed rush of control over the situation. Her spine tingled in a familiar
way but she channeled it—the distinct, loose, fluid feeling of impending need
that she recognized.
“Now, let’s go through this…” She brought her focus
back to the contracts. His hand covered hers. Surprised, she flinched, and a
strange, embarrassing sound emerged from her throat.
“I think you need a drink of water. You seem a
little… done in,” he claimed, his deep drawl coating her brain like the
sweetest honey infused bourbon. She snatched her water bottle, gulped some, set
the thing down and took a breath. Within thirty minutes she had laid out the
terms of the contract, including his non-disclosure and good-behavior clauses,
the health insurance guarantees, all of it. He had asked few questions, his
voice soft, musical and soothing in a way that somehow had the opposite effect
on her nerves. She gritted her teeth against the urge to stand up, lock the
door and yank the kid’s sweaty clothes off.
Jesus, help me. Get him out of here.
He stood quickly, startling her. “Well, if that’s
it.” He leaned back, studying her.
She got to her feet, unwilling to let him stand
above her for some reason, and noted how his chocolate brown eyes darkened at
the sight of her facing him.
“Yes. That
will definitely be it.” She lifted her chin and willed her damn knees to stop
shaking. She would have little reason to ever see him again, unless he landed
in trouble and she had to handle a public relations problem on his behalf.
His physical presence, not that different than all
the others who’d paraded through here in the last few days, compelled her in
ways she refused to acknowledge. At nearly six foot eight, with broad shoulders,
a narrow waist, long, strong legs....he cleared his throats. She blinked, and
the traitorous flush crept up her neck to her face again. His angular features
at that moment were set, and bored, and slightly amused at her obvious
discomfort. She narrowed her eyes. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? Her pulse
fluttered as she put a hand to her throat.
As if reading her mind, Brody Vaughn lifted his chin
slightly, and she got a good long look at it—the inky black chain imprinted on
his neck. A dark circular pattern of interlocking, heavy loops encircled the
flesh at his throat. He smiled again, slow moving, like his drawl, and he
touched it, once, then turned, giving her a breath taking rear view that
included the sight of the chain continuing around the back of his neck. The man
wore a collar, a permanent one, inked right on his skin. But the vibes he threw
her proclaimed one thing loud and clear—the person who’d bestowed the collar no
longer had a say about him at all.
Her mind swooped, whirled, and doubled back on
itself, picturing him—Brody the man—at her knees, bound, and waiting her
command. She shivered and jumped when her assistant appeared at the door. He’d
left. Taking his mysterious aura of vulnerability and strength, and raw sexy
need, with him.
My Review:
Okay so now onto my review. So I've been struggling with writing this review. This particular review and author are going to always hold a special place in my heart for the extremely hard complexity that I felt while reading this book, but also because I knew what my rating for this book would be when I was a little under half way through the book. Now the reason that this review is EXTREMELY (and I cannot express that enough) hard for me to write is because I can't give my usual rundown of the book. Because there was such a plot twist that hits you like a freight train, it's not something that I want to give away because I will tell you now....YOU HAVE TO READ THIS BOOK!!!!!
My emotions were ALL over the place where this book was concerned. The book starts out with Alicia and her life. The reader right away learns that not only does this girl love soccer, but she lives and breaths and sleeps and eats and everything in-between when it comes to soccer. Her father wants to make sure she and her sister Mel (whom I absolutely hate) are in attendance with a little get together party that some of the more famous soccer men players are at. While here Alicia first meets Metin who is pretty much at the top of the soccer world and he is an amazingly hawt sexy man-whorish-man. Don't get me wrong I love Metin, I love his character and is swuavy charm.
Alicia and Metin hit if off right away and have a hawt steamy night and then while Alicia wants it to be a one time thing, Metin just can't seem to get his mind off of her. And I will be the first to admit I've never really like the one night stand let's try to make something out of this, even though I have a girlfriend back home, and we don't even live in the same city, but hey lets make it work. But because Metin can't get Alicia out of his mind he offers to help her with some of her training, because after all she does want to be a pro female soccer player. And at only 36 pages in Metin starts to feel that he wanted to marry her. Had visions of her in white as she vowed to love him forever and while this vision is going on what are they doing? Practicing soccer moves to help her improve and not lead into her plays...perfect timing. Right?
After this things get a little interesting. Because they both have intense feelings for one another, but Metin doesn't even live in the states and Alicia has plans on going pro. So what happens, slumping in his chair, Metin watched her pace, her face getting redder by the minute as she named off all the reason he was a shithead, selfish, overpaid, oversexed playboy douchebag. When he'd stop and ask her what that word meant, he'd earned the black eye.
And then time jumps forward about six weeks. Up to this point I was kinda sad because I really wanted Metin to stay in the States with Alicia. I got caught up in their little whatever love affair and was all awww....and then became sad because now they are back to their normal lives and neither of them is truly happy. And then Alicia gets a shock of her life when some changes are made. And part of me saw it coming, while part of me was like sooo......what does that mean? And then she talks to her sister Mel and again how I hate that woman and then I was all, "Umm...no, don't do that, Mel's dumb don't listen to the cynical woman! Ugg."
But of course Metin comes to my...I mean Alicia's rescue and all is right in my world again. And a lot happens, but these two finally find some common ground, love and happiness. And then I was like umm.....so I'm only about 70 pages into this book (and there is about 225) what else are they going to talk about???? And then I lost my train of thought because while I was having my awww..... moments I got an OMG....OMG....no that can't happen, umm....no....ohhhhh okay good, good news. Whew....relief. And then some love again.
Then we go 2 years into the future. (By the way....theres a lot of time jumpingish type things in this book). Metin and Alicia are still together and happy and YEY for happiness!!!! Alicia found a stray cat and brought it home and Metin's reaction cracked me up, "Metin had freaked out, calling down all sorts of peasant Turkish curses on her head, claiming the animal would kill them in their sleep, or at the very least, infect them with cat scratch fever or some nonsense". And my humor comes back into the story.
Christmas is up and coming and Metin and Alicia are going to visit her family this year and good grief people need to be drunk to visit with this family. Mel is a hott mess and drives me nuts with her stupidity. But because of the close relationship between Mel and Alicia, Metin and Alicia get into a heated fight and after this is when tragedy strikes. At about 103 pages in and I'm just reading along enjoying life and WHAM a freaking freight train hits me out of no where and I was balling my eyes out. My husband came home and saw me and asked if I was okay and what happened and I held up my nook and he looked at me like I was an idiot. I felt like I was in shock and I must have misread something, that something like this could not be happening.
The next day at work I was ranting and raving about this book and how emotionally involved I was and I felt like everything had just happened to me in my life. And how mad I was and I don't even know what else to say on how I was feeling. I wasn't sure if I could read the second half. And then all I kept thinking is OMG what is Liz now going to write about now with this book. So it took me a few days, but I finally started reading the second half of this book and I did it on my lunch break which was probably a mistake. I was yelling and screaming and everything else under the sun at my nook because I didn't like the way the book was heading. Metin is a hott hott mess and I felt so bad for him, after tragedy struck he pretty much hit rock bottom.
And again 2 years into the future. Eventually, a soccer club wants to offer him a coaching position and of course who are we going to ask to help pull him out of his spiral? Ohhh Mel of course. The horrid horrid sister who hated his guts and every time they were together they were fighting and arguing and sometimes even worse. So yeah and then my heart softened a little because Mel said something amazingly awesome. "Mel held up her hands, unsure how to progress or if the crazy cow would launch herself at her and start ripping out her eyes." heheheh I am so going around calling girls I don't like a cow from now on, because it is so much more entertaining.
Anyways so I was reading and I was like no....that can't happen....and then I'd look away thinking I'd imagined it in my head. Then read another line and......NO COME ON!!!!!! REALLY??? AHHHHH NO NO NO NO NO....I'm telling you I was yelling at my nook. My co-workers thought I was kinda crazy, but I can't help it I was sooooo into the book. Wishing the reality of the situation away. So eventually more time goes by and Metin starts to slowly get his life together and I think that aside from the amazing love affair in the first half, I truly loved the second half of this book. The realism that I felt and part of me felt like I was changing right along with the characters. Almost like I was growing.
Again I started feeling all sorts of emotions in the second half. At first I was in shock and angry and sad and then I started to feel hope and happiness and even found things comical. Like the banquet the soccer team held at the end of the year. The awards were presented, the team giving each other"paper plate" honors. To their coach, the team presented one called, "Shut the f**k up or run." I found this quite comical. Overall, at the end of the book I didn't hate Mel as much as I originally did, however, she still isn't my favorite or anything. But the progression of the book was amazing and I felt satisfied and content, even though my emotions were still all over the place.
The last thing I want to say because I know this is long, but Liz Crowe was a new author to me, but I absolutely fell in love with her and her writing. She has worked her way to being one of my favorite authors of all time. I've never felt so many emotions in one book before....in ever. And this is one book that I'm never EVER going to forget. So excited to read more of Liz's works and go through more emotional turmoil, but in a good way. So go make sure you pick up your copy and get lost in this amazing book.
And if you've already read the book leave me a comment with your thoughts!!! And enjoy reading!!!
Rain of Fire
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