A brew that brings two lovers full circle.
ADJUNCT LOVERS
A Brewing Passion Novella
Liz Crowe
Releasing July 18, 2017
Totally Bound
When Ross
and Elisa open their new business in Detroit, they believe they’ve embarked on
a dream life, complete with their beloved, precocious daughter. But owning and
running a restaurant is not for the faint of heart, and Elle quickly becomes
laser-focused and obsessed, while Ross spends his days consulting, or
concocting new beers on his pilot system—and wondering why she won’t agree to
set a date for their wedding. When their restaurant—named “Komfort” for its
focus on the comfort foods of various cultures—is featured on a nationally
televised tour of hot new eateries, its popularity shoots into the
stratosphere, and Elle’s stress level reaches a breaking point.
Faced with
a mutual inability to communicate beyond their robust sex life, Ross issues an
ill-considered ultimatum: the restaurant or him. Stunned when she refuses to
consider such a ridiculous demand, he’s forced to come to terms with his own
selfish tendencies. Hoping to repair the damage he’s done, he concocts a new
beer inspired by her, using a recipe for a classic German-style Kölch. He
crafts the final product using a special ingredient designed to catch Elle’s
attention. It does. But not necessarily the way he’d planned.
“Adjunct
Lovers” fills in the story begun in LIGHTSTRUCK, and provides a closer look at
Ross’s and Elle’s complex personalities as they make their sexy way toward
happily ever after—with the help of a very special brew.
EXCERPT
(Rated R for language)
“Thank you,” she said. “I appreciate
it that you came when we called.” He raised an eyebrow at her, as if expecting
more than this dry, generic declaration. She kept her fingertips dug into his
arm, clinging to him as figuratively as she was literally. “I…I love you.”
“I know that, Elisa.” He plucked her
hand off his arm. She let it fall to her side. “But I don’t quite get where we
stand right now.”
She dropped her gaze, wrung her
fingers, then let a rush of ill-conceived anger speak before she could edit
herself. He’d spoken in English but she let fly in their native tongue. “Where
we stand? Where we stand is here, together.” She gestured upward to
the building’s original art-deco marquee they’d kept as their sign, putting up
a different message every week, as if it were still a theater. “This was your fucking idea, Hoffman. You wanted
it and you helped make it happen. But now, you have got to stop making me feel
guilty for running it, for managing it, for trying to make it as successful
as…as…as you are. You with your fancy consulting jobs, overpriced pilot systems
and fucking dangerous motorcycles.”
His eyes narrowed.
Elle was suddenly hyper aware that
they were causing a scene. Her face flushed hot but her hands and feet stayed
ice cold. Another symptom of her pregnancy, she knew. But that was not
something she wanted to share with him, not yet. “A motorcycle that cost how much?
How much did you pay for that deathtrap, hmm? Mister ‘I’m German and we’re
savers?’ Jesus, Ross, I don’t even know when this place will turn a real
profit. I mean, it’s getting better but…I…I’m terrified. Every day I’m afraid
we made the most horrible mistake ever using your money, our friends’ money. Oh
Christ.” She put her hands over her face, mortified that she’d been yelling at
him in German while the staff pretended not to notice.
Part of her wished, hoped, prayed that
he’d take her in his arms and assure her that it hadn’t been a stupid mistake.
That she’d make it work, he knew it. That he’d never have put his own money
into it if he thought any different. That she, he, they would be fine.
But when she dropped her hands, he
hadn’t moved an inch. His eyes were sharp and his face flushed with what she
knew damn good and well was rage. Her own barely concealed fury rose to meet
it.
“Do you honestly think,” he began,
using German this time, his voice low and dangerous-sounding. “That I would
have given up that much of my savings, that I would have gone to Austin and
Evelyn on your behalf, that I would have spent a year playing Mister Mom for
our child if I didn’t believe that
you would make this work?”
She sucked in a breath. Something her
grandmother had said to her once, about how men show affection, rose in her
roiling brain.
‘Our
men, they’re strong, like oxen. They’re stubborn, like mules. They’re
responsible, like elephants. They are fighters, not lovers. Don’t ever confuse
yourself into thinking otherwise. They’ll prove their love to you through their
acts, the things they do to support you and your family. But they will rarely
show affection. Forcing one to do so will make him retreat from you and
withhold the love he has for you until you leave him be and let him show it the
way he feels is best.’
She’d never once in her life ever
recalled that, until this moment, standing on the busy sidewalk, staring at her
own stubborn, strong, responsible, loving German. She reached for him but he
backed away, holding up his hands. Retreating and withholding, just like her
old-fashioned Oma had warned her that he would.
Of course, her Ross was affectionate.
He had no qualms about kissing her, holding her hand, showing his love for her
in public or private. But he was, in his genes, a good German man, even if he’d
been raised like a spoiled American. “I’m disappointed in you, Elisa. And I’m
hurt that you’d think for one god damned second that I didn’t support you in
this.” He parroted her wave, indicating the sign over their heads. “Now, I need
to go get our daughter and take her out for the day. You know, the way I always
fucking do every god damned weekend of our lives while you’re here, living your
dream and running your restaurant.” He paused and put his hands on his hips.
“But…” She started after him, hating
herself and formulating her apology, combined with agreement that they should
set a wedding date, considering her condition. When he turned again, he almost
ran right over her.
“And one more thing. I bought my
motorcycle with money we agreed I could use for it. Same goes for my
motherfucking pilot system. So I will thank you not to act like I hauled off
and spent the bloody rent money on it and left you without a fridge full of
food or our child without clothes on her back.”
He stared down at her, but she met his
gaze, unintimidated, unafraid. She reached for his hand, ready to beg his
forgiveness, but he yanked it away from her. “I’m not in the mood, Elisa. Go
on. Run your precious Komfort. I’ll take care of everything else.”
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best-selling author, mom of three, Realtor, beer blogger, brewery marketing
expert, and soccer fan, Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the
University of Louisville currently living in Ann Arbor. She has decades of
experience in sales and fund raising, plus an eight-year stint as a
three-continent, ex-pat trailing spouse.
Her early
forays into the publishing world led to a groundbreaking fiction subgenre,
“Romance: Worth the Risk,” which has gained thousands of fans and followers
interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”).
With
stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, in
successful real estate offices and at 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.
Don’t ever
ask her for anything “like a Budweiser” or risk bodily injury.
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