Liz Crowe's Turkish Anthology Blog Tour
Liz has become one of my new FAVORITE authors and this series BLEW ME AWAY! I'm HONORED to be a part of this blog tour and introduce you to the Turkish Delights Series by Liz Crowe. Here is a brief synopsis of the series......
A young American woman comes face to face with her destiny in Istanbul in the 1960's and an epic dynasty is born.
When Vivian Kinkaid turns around in her college classroom and makes eye contact with a man who was once her forbidden childhood friend, her life is changed forever.
A sweeping saga of family, love, loss and recovery—The Turkish Delight series begins with a special sort of magic. Then Madame Eve works her miracles for the Deniz family, but even she can’t overcome the harsh realities that force this Turkish/American family all to deal with tragedy when one of their own is ripped from their close-knit circle.
“The Turks” opens with best-selling classic romance for the ages. Then ends with a thrilling novella that brings all the players back together. Set in Istanbul, Las Vegas, and Southern California, The Turkish Delights series has it all—heat, heart, intrigue and a deep, family connection that transcends all barriers.
I had the opportunity to "speak" with Liz and learn a little more about her & the many books she has written. I hope you enjoy this interview as much as I did!!!!!!!!!
~ What inspired you to write your first book?
Boredom, actually. I was bored with the books I’d been reading
(mostly mainstream fiction) and had decided to mix it up and
try some steamier stuff “erotic romance,” although I was a little
squeamish on the “romance” part of it as I am not that sort of
reader (never picked up a Harlequin in my life). But my eyes and
imagination were truly opened by authors like Shayla Black and
Lauren Dane as to what could be a part of a well-told story (that is to
say: hot sexiness).
Then, the boredom at my real estate office combined with that one
day and I looked up at one of my colleagues, a larger than life Jack
Gordon inspiration, then looked down the long hallway in the back of
our office and imagined him, or someone a lot like him, with someone
else a lot like him only female…..the “hallway scene” in Floor Time
was born. And the rest is history, I suppose.
~ When did you start writing?
~ How many books have you had published to date?
21, but 4 of them I have taken back from their original publisher and
are no longer available. They are the Brewing Passion series that I will
radically revise and re-release in 2014.
~ What books, they can be one of yours, has influenced your life the
The Bible (I am a preacher’s kid but as an English Lit major studied
as a work of literature.)
Vanity Fair, William Makepeace Thackeray
Gone With The Wind, Margaret Mitchell
Cat’s Eye, Margaret Atwood
A Prayer for Owen Meany, John Irving
Bonfire of the Vanities, Tom Woolfe
And a poem: The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S. Eliot
~ Besides writing books, can you share a little about what you do in
your "real" life? I am part owner of a craft microbrewery in Ann Arbor
(The Wolverine State Brewing Company) and serve as marketing, sales director, Tap Room Manager, human resources consultant, and
beer taster. It’s a full time and a half job but I love it (most days).
~ Did your passion for micro-brews inspire you to write Paradise
Hops, Cheeky Blonde and Honey Red?
I wouldn’t call what I have for micro-brews “passion” necessarily. I
was not a beer person when I was asked to invest (time and money)
in the project as the marketing leg of the ownership tri-pod. But as
a business person I saw a great opportunity and latched onto it. My
passion for the industry since then has influenced me to write those
books, plus the Brewing Passion series (see above) that I’ll re-release
in 2014. Many of my other books have craft breweries as part of their
story lines too, including the Stewart Realty series.
~ Can you name one of your books that you would consider the most
fun to write? How about the hardest?
I think that I enjoyed writing The Diplomat’s Daughter so much
because it was a departure for me—a sort of “destined true love” story
set in 1960s Istanbul that allowed me to deviate from some of the
usual conventions (texting, email) and concentrate of how two people
would come together after years of being apart against serious odds.
The hardest one would be whichever one is being written at the
~ What inspired you to write the Turkish Delights Series?
At first, my inspiration came from the publisher, Decadent Publishing
and I took it as a bit of a challenge, fresh from having Floor Time
rejected (again). They have an incredibly creative and successful
series called “1Night Stand” which is based on an imaginary and
“magical dating service” run by Madam Evangeline via a resort in
Las Vegas. Writers are allowed to set their “1NS” books in nearly any
time, place or dimension. As I pondered how I can get something
published this particular imprint I immediately thought of Istanbul,
where I lived for nearly 3 years with my family.
I wrote “Turkish Delights” (the first short story) as a “cougar” tale
(not a shifter, the old fashioned cougar—older woman/younger man
dynamic). Writing short stories is tough for me but I made it happene
and they took it. Along the way, as I am wont to do, I crafted a side
story that became the next “1NS” called Blue Cruse (a m/m love story with a tragedy at its core). Then, there was yet another character
referred to who demanded HER story, so I wrote Tulip Princess to try
my hand at a bit of BDSM.
Finally once those were done, I had to write the prequel (The
Diplomat’s Daughter—the story of the Turkish/American parents of
the main characters in the first 3 books). And there was a serious plot
string left dangling with regard to that tragedy that nearly destroyed
the family. I tied it up with Flower Passage, the final novella.
Now all of these book are available in a print form, under one cover
which makes them read like a long, juicy novel which his awesome.
You can also get them as an e-book bundle on Amazon.
~ Do you find it difficult to write from a male POV ( personally I
think you do a helluva job!)? What about writing m/m scenes? I will
note that your books bring in a whole emotional component to the
relationships that in my opinion really draws a reader in and you are
focused on the love between the characters versus the sex scenes.
Thanks, Kim. I actually really enjoy writing from the masculine point
of view. Although I certainly don’t do so in a vacuum. I talk with
the significant males all around me a lot, asking about their take on
certain situations hoping to keep it as real as possible and not too
filtered through my XY chromosomes.
~ Can you share a little of your current work with my followers?
Sure, this excerpt is from Tulip Princess, book 3 (the D/s one):
Andreas was early—normal for him. He liked to get a handle on his surroundings, and
frankly, nervousness made him even earlier. Blind dates were not usually his style. He
liked to meet women on his own terms, not as part of some elaborate set up, like this one.
He nursed his scotch. The previous night had been a late one. He’d stayed sober, enjoyed
the expensive attentions of some lovely ladies at the club, and fallen into bed around
three a.m. A long morning workout had helped dispel some of his tension. Hopefully this
little dream date thing would not only get his sister off his back, but would force the dark
skinned sultry girl from the club out of his brain.
He counted punctuality as one of his pet peeves so by the time a female figure
appeared alone in the doorway of the exclusive restaurant, back lit so he couldn’t see her
face, and nearly twenty minutes late, he frowned. Dressed in a short skirt, her long legs
were fit, but not skinny. She had womanly curves exactly where he liked them. The
cinched in, wide belt accentuated her hips and the very appealing swell of her breasts.
Her sleeveless and filmy shirt allowed just enough of her rich olive skin to show. His eyes traveled up the long expanse of her long neck and came to rest right on the very eyes
that had haunted him since the night before. She took a step into the restaurant’s dim
interior. His cock sprang to instant, painful attention. He gulped down the remainder of
his drink and watched her take a few more steps inside, using the time to really assess her
perfection. The patent leather stilettos made him groan. He was fucked, well and truly.
And the girl had serious attitude to match her good looks if he remembered correctly. He
sensed his natural Dom rear up, take control for the first time in months, maybe even
years. He stood, buttoned his jacket over the bulge in his trousers and made a decision.
He’d tell her everything, exactly what he wanted, and let her decide.
The dim light forced Lale to take a few moments and figure out where everything was
in the restaurant. Her ears buzzed with nervousness. Something in the room shifted, a
puff of cool air blew past her, ruffling her hair as she took a further step inside. Within
seconds, she locked eyes with the Greek. Taking an involuntary step back, Lale
immediately realized he had to be her date. Mas allah…. She put a hand to her throat. But
then he smiled at her—an amazing, beautiful thing that lit up his entire, incredible face.
When he shrugged and held out a hand, an eerie, unfamiliar calm settled over her psyche.
She took a deep breath and walked to the table where he stood, holding out her chair.
She glanced down, unable to meet his eyes for some reason and sat. The moment he
joined her, a plate of succulent fruits, nuts, olives, cheese, and some smoked salmon
appeared in front of them. Her wine glass got filled with something red and rich smelling.
Lale blinked then looked up. Dear God, he is gorgeous. And something else…something
dark, yet lovely…just out of reach….
“Cheers.” He lifted his glass. “Nice to meet you.”
She raised hers, clinked his and took a sip. Realizing she had yet to speak, she cleared
her throat, touched a soft napkin to her lips, stalling.
“So, I guess I should know your name, otherwise you are going to be ‘the Greek’ to
me all night.” Lale winced at herself. “I’m, um, Lale.” She held her hand out over the
The electric spark that crawled up her arm to the base of her brain when he touched
her nearly made her moan. Sweat beaded her upper lip but the rest of her body shivered.
She gulped as his huge hand engulfed hers.
“Beautiful Tulip, eh? Nice. Very apt. You are lovely.” He let go. Lale frowned. He
stayed quiet, munching on an olive, staring holes into her. She sipped more wine. The
silence stretched out beyond anything resembling comfortable or even polite.
“Okay then.” She reached out for an olive, popped it in her mouth, and nearly choked
on it. He stood and pounded her back. She grabbed water, mortified. After she regained
her breath, he sat back down and motioned for the waiter without taking his eyes off her.
“The lady will have the Circassian Chicken, no bread, with a spinach salad, hold the
onions and blue cheese. I’ll have the osso buco, extra bread, no salad,” he ordered in
textbook perfect French. Lale gaped at the man, amazed, pissed at his assumptions and
suddenly starving at the thought of the chicken dish. Easily one of her favorites; she
hadn’t had it since leaving Turkey.
“How did you know I…?”
He held up a hand. “Let me clarify this for you now, my dear. I like to be in control. I
expect it, frankly.” He took a sip of wine. Lale’s core continued its dangerous meltdown.
She had no idea what he meant, but something in her already responded in ways she
couldn’t fathom. “I take pride in knowing what my, um, partner needs from me. I noticed
you didn’t eat a bite of the cheese. I have some other Turkish friends—although I loathe
to admit it—who are lactose intolerant. I think it is common in your country, this
“But—” Lale’s face burned and her temper rose to meet the lust that roiled through
her, keeping her skin pebbled and her heart thudding.
“I’m not finished.” His voice stayed low, firm, sexy. “Yes, I played football. In
Miami. For seven years, I hit the center of the opposing team as hard as I could, trying to
get to the quarterback. I played this position well because I’d been the center in college at
Arizona. After my third major concussion I retired.” He refilled Lale’s wine glass. She
kept staring at him, transfixed by his face, his eyes, the soft cadence of his voice. “Yes, I
have been married. My ex-wife started out as my sub, or my submissive, then
transformed into a slave. Our relationship was very complex, exciting and as it turns out,
a complete lie.”
“Uh, your ‘slave’ did you say?” Lale’s face flushed again. If this Greek thought she
had it in her to bow down and let herself be treated like shit by the hottest thing with a
swinging dick she’d encountered in a while, he’d better think twice. He put a hand over
hers. Lale stared at it as her pounding heart calmed, and she could suddenly take a deep
breath, seemingly at his touch. Dark hair dusted his bronzed skin. Her eyes travelled up
the expanse of his light blue shirt, to the tie around his neck, noted his clenched jaw, and
came to rest on his shining green eyes. She had to cross her legs to keep from trembling.
“Yes, I did. But once I left the NFL and moved here to take a job as the athletic
director for UNLV, her real self emerged. Selfish, spoiled, suddenly immune to
punishment, but I had let myself be weakened by her. I loved her, but she loved the
limelight from being the wife of a big football star—and living in the desert didn’t appear
on her to-do list, apparently.”
Lale watched his throat as he swallowed his wine. He removed his hand from hers.
She had never felt more abandoned, although the man still sat right across from her. She
“Until I came home early one day and saw my neighbor’s cock in her ass, I didn’t
realize how bad it had gotten. Some slaves are unredeemable, especially the ones who are
merely posing for some sort of gain. So I dismissed her. In my lifestyle, that is more final
than any legal statement of divorce. And my neighbor may be able to walk again by
“Wow, um that’s….” Lale pecked at her spinach salad.
“Eat that. You need the iron.”
She glanced up at him. “What, you’re a doctor, too?”
“No, I can tell. It’s my job.”
Something like anger shot through her. “Look, Greek, you have no job as it relates to
me, okay? Just put that out of your head. I mean, you’re, ah, interesting and all, but I
think there’s been some mistake.”
Lale had to admit the spinach tasted good. She had never been the best eater and these
last few days, she had not ingested much more than granola bars, coffee, and alcohol.
“Yeah, I do.”
He stayed quiet a minute while she wolfed down the dark greens.
“So you are perfectly happy with the men in your life?”
“What men?” She dabbed at her lips again. “I mean, I am on a blind date with you,
“What I mean is, I think you might be perfect for me. But I don’t know if I have the
energy or inclination to make you understand that.”
Lale sat back. What the hell did he mean? “I thought relationships were supposed to
be fun, you know, not work that required a lot of energy. Just so you know, my brothermet his wife through this little setup and one of my best friends found his new boyfriend
thanks to this Madame Eve person as well.”
The huge Greek hunk chuckled and removed a card from of his pocket, wrote
something on the back, and pushed it across the table at her. She picked it up. Andreas
Michos, Athletic Director The University of Nevada Las Vegas. She flipped it over. 4770
North Cumberland Drive, Summerlin She stared at him.
“Gee, I thought we’d exchange email addresses first.”
He leaned forward and held out his hands. Against her better judgment, she placed
hers in them, trying not to flinch at the heat that passed from him straight to her lap. Her
throat clenched, making it hard to swallow as she studied how small her hands seemed in
his again, unable to meet his gaze.
“Look at me now.” She lifted her eyes to his which blazed with intensity. “I want you,
Lale. I wanted you last night. I want…more than you know. But I’m not sure you can
handle what I have to offer. It’s a complex relationship between a Dom and a sub, and I
don’t know if you’re ready, although….” He stopped and shrugged, his face settling into
noncommittal lines. Her skin heated alarmingly. Rage surged through her brain, and she
yanked her hands out of his large, warm ones.
“You know what, you have got to be the cockiest man on the planet. What makes you
think I even want what you have to offer, hmm?”
“You do. I can tell.”
Lale pushed her chair back and stood. She had to get out of there. This
Greek…Andreas…did something to her she had no frame of reference for. She needed
air. She needed space. But at the same time, she had to ball her hands into fists to keep
from flinging herself into his strong arms. What the hell? Since when did she want
someone to dominate her? That was utter bullshit.
He looked up at her, one dark eyebrow raised. “Your move, beautiful tulip. I’ve laid it
out for you. Shall we finish our dinner? I think you should.” He gestured toward her
chair, an eyebrow raised as if in question.
She shut her eyes against the weird compulsion to obey him. To sit down and eat the
meal that sat before her, tempting with the familiar smells of home. Slipping back into
her seat, she took a bite and let the silence gather some force between them.
“I am not interested in being anyone’s ‘slave,’” she finally said as casually as if she
were discussing the weather. “So I guess this will be our first and last date.”
The lovely man smiled and his face transformed once again into something she
wouldn’t mind seeing every morning of her life, next to her on a pillow.
“I know that.
Believe me, I’ve been doing this long enough to spot a woman as capable as I am of
being a Dom.”
She tried not to smile back at him. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Greek.” She got a
small bit of satisfaction at the frustration that passed over his strong features.
“Lale, the Dom/sub relationship is not about anything but trust. Something tells me
you don’t trust anyone. Not anymore. Am I right?”
She blinked. “Maybe. What difference does that make?”
“All the difference in the world to me. I want to be the man you trust—with
everything. With your body, your safety, your very soul. That requires relinquishing an
amount of control I’m not sure you’re capable of handing over…yet.” He motioned for
the waiter to take away his empty plate. She hadn’t even registered he’d been eating. “So,
perhaps you’re right. This should be our last encounter. We will only frustrate each other.
Although….” He licked his upper lip, which sent Lale right over the edge. She grabbed
her water glass and tried not to hold it to her flushed face. “The process would indeed be
gratifying, that I promise you.” Lale had heard of women having an orgasm from the
sound of a voice, without any physical contact. But until that moment, she had dismissed
it as virginal bullshit—the stuff of overheated romance novels. The dampness between
her legs and the quick second of bliss she had at his words proved otherwise. She had to
get away from him before she did something ridiculous.
“I think we should call it a night.” She stood, wobbly in her shoes. He joined her and
her eyes were drawn directly to the huge lump under his zipper that he made no effort to
hide. He took her arm and steered her toward the door.
“You see the affect you have on me. I’ve nursed this hard on since you walked in the
room, Lale. But I need more from you than the quick lay you would no doubt allow me.”
She yanked her arm out of his grip. Her anger finally allowed her to speak.
“Fuck off, asshole. Take your Master and slave bullshit and find yourself a brainless
bimbo. This town has got to be full of them, hot for your bod, no?”
He put his hands in pockets as they stood in the cavernous lobby. His gaze remained
inscrutable. Lale glared at him, the twin compulsions to smack him and wrap her entire
body around his and never let go warring in her brain. She sucked in a deep breath.
“Well, thanks for an interesting night.” She put out a hand to shake his. This is crazy. I
need to go home, see my niece, take some control of my life. He took her hand, brought it
to his lips, then suddenly tugged her close to put a possessive arm around her waist. Her
body immediately responded. Trying to keep standing as her knees gave out, she kept her
face averted. His lips brushed her ear, already familiar, his lilting voice filling her head.
“You are not a slut, that’s not what I meant. You should treat yourself better.
Take some pride in more than your appearance. You are strong and special.
Don’t forget it.” She closed her eyes at the touch of his lips to her cheek then he
“Farewell, my beautiful Turk. My dead grandmother thanks you for blowing me
Lale wanted nothing more than to run her tongue over his crooked, ironic smile.
Her body jangled with need for his touch again.
“My very much alive, very Turkish brother and father feel the same way, Greek.”
took one step back, then turned and stalked over to the bank of elevators.
Want to read the Turkish Anthology series now? I recommend you do and they are FREE on Amazon for a limited time to coincide with the blog tour. Here's the link for the Kindle e-copies:
You can also buy the series in paperback. Her's the link for the paperbacks:
Now if you're not familiar with Liz Crowe and her books. Here is the information you need to get to know Liz:
TRI DESTINY PUBLISHING
fan, Liz lives in the great Midwest, in a major college town. Years of experience in sales and fund raising,
plus an eight-year stint as an ex-pat trailing spouse, plus making her way in a world of men (i.e. the beer
industry), has prepped her for life as erotic romance author.
When she isn't sweating inventory and sales figures for the brewery, she can be found writing, editing or
sweating promotional efforts for her latest publications.
Her groundbreaking fiction subgenre, “Romance for Real Life,” has gained thousands of fans and followers
who are interested less in the “HEA” and more in the “WHA” (“What Happens After?”)
Her beer 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 highpowered real estate offices. Don’t ask her for anything “like” a Budweiser or risk painful injury.
The final stop: http://www.decadentpublishing.blogspot.com/ is a contest that consists of 5 questions plus a bonus round. All answers can be found in various posts throughout the tour.
The commenter who gets the most answers correct AND leaves an email in their comment wins:
1 signed print copy of Turkish Delights
$50 Amazon gift card
and if they get the BONUS question too: a Beer Wench tee shirt from Liz' brewery.
1 signed print copy of Turkish Delights
$50 Amazon gift card
and if they get the BONUS question too: a Beer Wench tee shirt from Liz' brewery.
Here's the remaining Blog Tour schedule and links to the stops..........