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Jan 24, 20225 min read

New Release | What Happens in Chicago by @LizCroweAuthor #eroticromance #newrelease #bookboost



Title: What Happens in Chicago


Author: Liz Crowe


Genre: Erotic Romance


Publisher: The Wild Rose Press


Book Blurb:


Sloane I figured it would be just another night at the club. Another chance to put my parents’ expectations and their pressure to return home behind me. But hiding from my issues by entertaining clients at an exclusive club in Chicago wasn’t the erotic buzz it used to be. And then, this smoking hot dude spilled bourbon down the front of my dress... Michael What had, at one time, been sexy, illicit, and thrilling now felt like one more night stuck on a hamster wheel. I was bored to tears with the whole club scene, forced yet again to verify to everyone that I was as Alpha as I claimed to be while continuing to hide from my responsibilities as part owner of my family’s brewery. And then, I literally ran into her… What happens between Sloane and Michael in Chicago seems like nothing more than a hookup, a scorching hot interlude for a couple of well-matched libidos. Once they realize that there are legit feelings involved, they find plenty of ways to deflect and sabotage their burgeoning relationship. When they both have to leave their beloved Chicago and go home to Michigan—Sloane to help an ill parent, Michael to salvage his family’s famous brewery—things get even more complicated. Accepting the depth of their emotion for each other means acknowledging their own flaws, which makes for tough conversations…along with steamy make-up sessions.


Excerpt:


Really, kudos to him for drawing this out, for somehow knowing how much I loved this stage of the mating game. The set-up, the reel-in, the teasing was, to me, over half the fun. In my experience with guys like this—the pretty ones, the ones who thought they were as good at the game as I was—the second half was usually a disappointment.


My target spent a few seconds sipping and staring at the guy I’d come here with, some tool whose company my PR firm was hoping to land as a big contract. I’d brought him here on my own tonight, figuring I could at least show him how cool I was, willing to hang at a high-end strip club with the guys.


As if sensing our attention, my date lifted his drink, then turned back to the stage show. He was transfixed, like a rookie. It had shocked me when he said he’d never been here before. Jesus, anyone in finance or high stakes advertising and PR had been here, and if they claimed otherwise they were lying. But this guy...


I sighed and leaned on my elbow, letting my hand rest on Michael’s arm again.


“So boring,” I said, meaning it.


“Yeah,” Michael agreed with me. “I mean, who really watches all that anyway?”


He turned his head, putting our faces in the sort of pleasantly close proximity that boded well. Especially considering how he waited, then withdrew without kissing me.


Nice. Very nice.

I shifted in my seat, uncrossed and re-crossed my legs, relishing the distinct and pleasant sensation of wetness at the top of my bare thighs.


“Never seen you here before,” Michael said, keeping a somewhat polite distance. “Water, please,” he said to a passing bartender. “Two.”


I pushed the martini glass to the side and leaned forward again, wanting another full, sensory experience. Michael smelled like soap, cotton, starch, and bourbon, with the slightest hint of cigar smoke. Unable to stop myself, I touched his jaw to pull him closer.


“I come here a lot,” I whispered, almost blind with lust by this point but loving the way he was letting me set the pace.


“Really,” he said. “What a coincidence. So do I.”


I could practically see the waves of lust rising from his scalp as I studied him a few seconds before I let my lips graze where my fingertips had been.


“But you should know something,” he said, seemingly unaffected by my light kiss.


I closed my eyes and tried to get hold of myself, to regain control. Because this was how this was supposed to work. I, a very sexy, very intriguing woman, showed up at this overblown titty bar with a “date” and was right in the fray with the guys. I tucked bucks. I touched ass and nip. I pretended to kiss the chick hired by my date for a semi-public lap dance.


It was all in the build-up. And lately, somewhat alarmingly, it was about the only thing that could get me off. I knew it was one hundred fifty percent the power trip, my power over all the men in the room. All the men who wanted me while I had my lap dance. All the men jealous of the guy who would take me upstairs later.

I only achieved a satisfactory orgasm about half the time with these guys anymore.

So yeah, I was getting bored.

Until tonight. Until Michael-not-Mike, with his clumsiness and his killer face, lips, eyes, and hands, one of which was on my bare upper arm.


“What exactly should I know?”


His fingers traced lines up and down my arm, leaving a trail of telltale goose bumps in their wake. I bit my lip to keep from yanking him to me so I could kiss him. No. That would be giving up way too much. Besides, he’d probably be another one—another suit full of poser—who’d get off and leave me panting and unsatisfied.


“I don’t play games.” He leaned away from me, taking his fingertips with him.


“Oh?” I tilted my head, flipped my hair over one shoulder, blinked, and smiled. The usual shit that typically turned all the posers into quivering piles of horny goo.


Michael raised an eyebrow at me, then turned to face the bar again. A tickle of anger joined the lusty swirl of fog threatening to blind and deafen me.


Didn’t play games, huh? We’ll see about that.


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Author Biography:


Liz Crowe is a Kentucky native and graduate of the University of Louisville living in South Carolina. She's spent her time as a three-continent expat trailing spouse, mom of three, real estate agent, brewery owner and bar manager, and is currently a marketing consultant for non-profits, in addition to being an award-winning author. With stories set in the not-so-common worlds of breweries, on the soccer pitch, inside fictional television stations and successful real estate offices, and even in exotic locales like Istanbul, Turkey, her books are compelling 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, at times frustrate, and always linger in the imagination long after the book is finished.


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