When Vivian Kincaid's eyes meet those of a hunky local at the Turkish university her father forces her to attend it only takes her a split second to recognize her childhood friend. Levent Deniz was the servant boy who taught her to run the streets of Istanbul years before, giving outlet to her wild streak even as a child. Now face-to-face once again as adults, the only thing standing between them and happiness is her father. The newly appointed Consul General for the United States has other plans for his only daughter. Ones that do not include a former servant, now successful entrepreneur and businessman. He will do everything in his power to keep them apart. The Diplomat's Daughter is set in 1960s Istanbul and tells the story of pre-destiny, passion and the rebellious power of truelove.
What would you do if the lover, brother, son and friend you thought you'd lost forever was returned to you? Brutally battered emotionally and physically for the past two years, Tarkan Deniz has escaped his captors. When the Deniz family discovers the shocking truth they rally and do everything in their power to bring him back safely. But all have been affected by the tragedy of his loss, and must come to terms with the new reality, each in their own way. When Happily Ever After seems like a nightmare...one man can bring healing to all, but will he ever be the same man again? Flower Passage teaches the lesson that love once lost, can be regained, even if it takes a slightly different form than before
Microbrewery owner, multi-published author, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz brings years of experience in beer sales, plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse to her life as erotic romance author. When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or concocting promotional efforts for her beer bar or her latest publications.
Liz writes “romance for real life” utilizing less traditional storylines in which characters have flaws, quirks, and multi-layered histories behind their motivations. They could be your best friends. Or the girl in your office that drives you crazy. She wants readers to sees a little of themselves in her characters—to identify, sympathize, and even get a little aggravated by them but always want to know more. Herbeer blog a2beerwench.com is nationally recognized for its insider yet outsider views on the craft beer industry. Her books are set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch and in high powered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury. Website / Blog / Facebook / Twitter'
Diplomat's Daughter
Excerpt:
Vivian tore her gaze from the large windows, tried to ignore
the tedious professor. She tugged a lock of her dark hair over her eyes. The
stupid, frumpy outfit her father made her wear to school chafed every inch of
her skin. She glanced around, not finding anyone interesting to stare at in the
stuffy economics classroom. Frowning she looked over her shoulder, bored, angry
at her circumstances, and itching to get out of the confines of the room. It
was stifling hot already. Her thoughts
wandered to her plans for the evening with her friends.
They’d discovered an old Roman cistern that had been
transformed into an illicit nightclub. Precisely the right amount of danger,
served up with imported whiskey, local cigarettes, and attractive Turkish men
plus a few daring tourists—the very thought of the place made Viv smile.
Sneaking out of the consulate residence was a snap. Her father never paid
attention to her anyway. Istanbul in the late 1960s was awash in tourist money
and development. Plenty of trouble could be found if a girl knew where to
search.
When her gaze met that of some hunky local staring at her
like she was a water mirage in the desert her skin prickled. His eyes were
dark, his features sharp and striking. The dark tie and light blue shirt hugged
his obviously strong torso. Her eyes narrowed. Two can play the stare down
game. When he smiled, she gasped and her heart lurched into her throat. She
whipped around and clutched her hands together on the desk.
Oh God. It was Levent Deniz. Her childhood friend. The boy
who’d made her early years as the child of a busy diplomat in this teeming city
bearable. They’d spent countless hours playing in the parks by the Bosporus,
daring each other through various mazes of dangerous boat docks, across rickety
bridges through neighborhoods and streets where she had no business.
How could it be? She snuck a look back. The unique color of
his eyes—a soft, deep blue—and that scar at the corner of his mouth, when he’d
fallen and gotten injured trying to protect her from the feral dog that was
chasing them. Yep. It was him all right. She turned again to face front, her
heart pounding.
That day, his poor mother had been apoplectic. So had hers
once they’d returned to her house. His father was the chief groundskeeper and
his mother was the cook that came with the diplomatic residence where her
family lived. She’d technically been forbidden to play with him again. But it
didn’t matter, because after that day, he’d disappeared from her life. She
remembered desperately looking through the kitchens and back halls where he
usually lurked doing his schoolwork while his parents worked to serve hers.
Damn. He’d gone and gotten handsome. The years she’d spent
back in the states after her parents’ divorce she’d nearly forgotten about him.
Now she was back, thanks to her mother’s death and her father’s insistence on
having her nearby. Stuck going to Robert College, getting into as much trouble
as she could behind her father’s back, Viv hated every moment of her life since
her return to Istanbul.
She snuck another look back over her shoulder at the young
man. He had one dark eyebrow raised. His finger touched the scar at his full
upper lip and was starting right at her. Vivian felt sweat break out under her
stiff blouse. She crossed her legs. This was an interesting turn of events. One
for the diary for certain. She grinned to herself, picturing her father, the
newly appointed Consul General for the United States of America, all fat and
sassy with his new wife and baby when he caught her making out with that lovely
hunk of Turk under the consulate steps. Just what he deserved really.
Vivian gave her old friend one last quick glance, letting
her eyes soften so he’d know she’d recognized him. Her skin pebbled again under
his intense gaze. She studied his broad shoulders, his classical, almost Roman,
features. Lovely. And about to get into a perfectly delightful amount of
trouble with her, if she had any control over it. And she knew she did.
As if reading her mind, he leaned back in his seat,
stretched his long legs out in front of him, and ran a hand through his thick
hair. Was he actually blushing? Yes. Delightful trouble. Vivian grinned at him.
It was a life changing moment that she would never, ever forget.
Flower Passage Excerpt: Caleb stared at his computer screen, unfocused, exhausted. He took a breath and hit reply on the Skype chat, after typing a response to Adem’s recent inquiry as to his state of mind. “About the same really. Only worse. Because I miss you like a fucking amputated limb. When are you coming back?” “I finally got the location secured, on the corner I wanted and the contractors start today on the remodel. It will take at least six months so I thought….” Caleb frowned. It was not like Adem to leave decisions hanging. He ran a hand down his face. He had not slept for more than three hours at a time since the other man had left. That made it, what, two weeks since he’d had a decent night’s rest? The dream kept cropping up during their last week together in California and after they’d fought, Adem had gone as promised, leaving Caleb to himself. Exactly what he did not want right now. “You thought what? I can’t leave here for a while. You’re a lot more flexible than I am. I’m on salary, remember?” He hit return before letting his inner self-editor soften the words. It was a solid five minutes before Adem replied. Caleb spent the time slugging back yet more caffeine and pondering Elle’s calendar, hoping he didn’t screw it up again like he had that morning. He’d misplaced some dates and had to tell her she was scheduled to be in Prague next week, not in September like they’d thought. Jesus. He was losing it. “I actually thought I’d go to Turkey day after tomorrow, spend about a week, and then head back to the States.” Caleb’s heart lifted somewhat. Thank God. He hadn’t spoiled things with his lame-ass emotional constipation or whatever his problem was lately. “That sounds great. Really really (really) great.” He hit return. Then typed, “I miss you. So much.” “I know. I miss you, too, my love.” Caleb smiled. “Try the massage before bed. Call that service. Or, if all else fails, rub one out.” “What the hell do you think I’ve been doing? Drinking chamomile tea?” “No. I guess not. I must go. Meeting with general contractor in ten.” “Okay. Call me later.” “I will. Caleb. I love you. Remember that.” “I know. I do. I don’t deserve you.” “Now that is the truth. But it’s mutual. Until later….” He closed the Skype window as his phone buzzed at his elbow. Frowning at the international number his heart clenched when he realized who it was. “Vivian! So good to hear your voice!” He stood, intending tore fill his coffee cup while he chatted with Emre, Tarkan, and Lale’s mother. Her next words made him release the ceramic mug to the floor, bouncing it off the cork flooring and splattering the dregs of warm liquid up one pants leg. He dropped back into his chair and put his head on the desk, listening, realizing why he’d been having the dream again, and mentally booking his flight to Istanbul. After ten more minutes of back and forth, he hung up, staring at the device that had somehow delivered news that he had longed to hear for years, but now only served to make him want to crawl into the corner and pull a blanket over his head. He’d promised to call Emre for her. But how to begin? Didn’t matter. It had to be done. He stood, pacing and placed the call that would blow apart everybody’s newly ordered world all over again.
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