Flow
by Liz Crowe
Series: Detroit Sports Network, #2
Genre: Contemporary Sports Romance
Cover Designer: Jay Aheer, Evernight Publishing
Release Date: December 18, 2020
When Emerson Tyler’s unrequited high school crush crashed into her first group meeting of the DSN’s social media department, it was strange to say the least. When she learned that her crush wasn't as “unrequited” as she’d always believed, things got even stranger.
She'd sworn on the day Bryce Nordlinger crushed her teenaged heart--not to mention ruined her reputation in order to save his lady-killer status--that she would never trust him or any man ever again. And she had no intention of breaking that oath, no matter how much more tempting he’d become as a grown up NHL star.
Bryce had always wanted Em to be more than the smart, snarky high school girl who helped him with his terrible English essays. But he’d been busy burnishing his rep as future jock stud, and when his fellow hockey bros caught him skating with her alone in a deserted rink, he’d chosen the easiest path--one that left her hurt in a way he never thought he’d be able to heal.
His complete shock at seeing her, all grown up and more beautiful than ever in the meeting room at DSN, morphed into a steel-plated resolve. He would win her back and make up for the mess he’d made of her high school senior year, while dragging the once-proud Detroit hockey program out of the dumpster fire and back to prominence at the same time.
“You think too much,” he said, his lips pressed to her hair. “It gets in the way of enjoying yourself.”
She sighed and let her fingers trail up the inside of his thigh. “I’m thinking right now,” she said, looking up at him.
“Dirty thoughts?” His eyes looked tired but his smile was genuine.
“Maybe.”
He sighed and held her tighter. “A guy can dream.” He paused. “And a guy does, especially about those Kegel things.”
She pressed her face into his chest to keep from giggling. Why not? she thought. Why not go to bed with him? You know you want to, and you can always chalk it up to mere physical attraction. Get laid in spectacular fashion, then walk away from him for good.
“I do want us to talk,” he said, surprising her. “I don’t want to just fuck. Although that would be nice.”
She sighed. “It would be nice,” she agreed.
A few minutes went by in silence as she relaxed even further in his embrace. “We can always talk after,” she said.
He didn’t respond, so she closed her eyes and let her full stomach and the low hum of the road lull her into a light doze. She woke with a jolt when Bryce kissed her hair again. “We’re here, sleeping beauty.”
She peeled off him, wiping her lips.
“Gross. You slobbered on me.”
“Only a little. Please tell me this place has toothbrushes.” She put a hand over her mouth. “I have dragon breath.”
“Indeed, you do, my delicate desert blossom.” He touched her nose. “And you snore like some old man.”
“Fuck you,” she said, giving him a friendly shove as they stood in the lobby, which of course had zero effect on him.
“Hurt your hand?” he asked, flexing his arm.
“Mr. Nordlinger?” a guy said as he approached them.
“Yes.” Bryce put his arm down. The man was a pro for sure, she thought, since he didn’t even blink at the sight of their now slightly bedraggled rave gear.
“Your room is ready. You can use this keycard for access to the uppermost floors. My name is Simon and I’m your personal concierge. If you need anything once you’re in your room, simply dial one-five-one to be connected to my private line. Please enjoy your stay.” He glanced at her. “Ma’am,” he said.
“Oh, uh, Simon, there’s been a mistake. I ordered two rooms.”
Simon’s smile widened. “We upgraded you to the Presidential Suite. It has two separate rooms. Enjoy.” He gave a slight bow and held out his arm, indicating the direction of the elevators.
“This just got more complicated,” he said as they walked into the elevator together. “But in a cool way.”
She leaned against his tall, firm body as the lift shot upward, yawning so wide she heard her jaw crack. When the doors opened, he hesitated, then turned to her. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to do, Em. But I need you to know that if you want me to, I’ll pick you up and carry you into this stupid suite and make love to you for the next four hours.”
She sucked in a breath, her mind spinning. “Why four hours?” she asked. “I mean, that’s sorta random.”
He chuckled and gave her a fake punch to the shoulder. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” He yawned. “Jesus, I need a shower.” He held the mesh shirt fabric away from his chest. “And to burn these clothes.”
They walked to the door marked Presidential Suite in silence. He lifted the keycard to flash at the reader, but she grabbed his arm at the last minute. “If we go in here together,” she said, her voice low, her gaze locked on his hand. “All bets are off.”
He lifted her chin with his finger. “We were placing bets?”
She closed her eyes, then opened them, unable to stop the tears. “I was talking to myself,” she said. He touched her cheeks. “I need you to know that I’m not … emotionally available to you or anyone else right now.”
He smiled, drawing her closer so she had to raise her arms and put them around his neck. “Why don’t you give it a try?” he asked, his lips hovering over hers.
She sighed and let her fingers trail up the inside of his thigh. “I’m thinking right now,” she said, looking up at him.
“Dirty thoughts?” His eyes looked tired but his smile was genuine.
“Maybe.”
He sighed and held her tighter. “A guy can dream.” He paused. “And a guy does, especially about those Kegel things.”
She pressed her face into his chest to keep from giggling. Why not? she thought. Why not go to bed with him? You know you want to, and you can always chalk it up to mere physical attraction. Get laid in spectacular fashion, then walk away from him for good.
“I do want us to talk,” he said, surprising her. “I don’t want to just fuck. Although that would be nice.”
She sighed. “It would be nice,” she agreed.
A few minutes went by in silence as she relaxed even further in his embrace. “We can always talk after,” she said.
He didn’t respond, so she closed her eyes and let her full stomach and the low hum of the road lull her into a light doze. She woke with a jolt when Bryce kissed her hair again. “We’re here, sleeping beauty.”
She peeled off him, wiping her lips.
“Gross. You slobbered on me.”
“Only a little. Please tell me this place has toothbrushes.” She put a hand over her mouth. “I have dragon breath.”
“Indeed, you do, my delicate desert blossom.” He touched her nose. “And you snore like some old man.”
“Fuck you,” she said, giving him a friendly shove as they stood in the lobby, which of course had zero effect on him.
“Hurt your hand?” he asked, flexing his arm.
“Mr. Nordlinger?” a guy said as he approached them.
“Yes.” Bryce put his arm down. The man was a pro for sure, she thought, since he didn’t even blink at the sight of their now slightly bedraggled rave gear.
“Your room is ready. You can use this keycard for access to the uppermost floors. My name is Simon and I’m your personal concierge. If you need anything once you’re in your room, simply dial one-five-one to be connected to my private line. Please enjoy your stay.” He glanced at her. “Ma’am,” he said.
“Oh, uh, Simon, there’s been a mistake. I ordered two rooms.”
Simon’s smile widened. “We upgraded you to the Presidential Suite. It has two separate rooms. Enjoy.” He gave a slight bow and held out his arm, indicating the direction of the elevators.
“This just got more complicated,” he said as they walked into the elevator together. “But in a cool way.”
She leaned against his tall, firm body as the lift shot upward, yawning so wide she heard her jaw crack. When the doors opened, he hesitated, then turned to her. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want to do, Em. But I need you to know that if you want me to, I’ll pick you up and carry you into this stupid suite and make love to you for the next four hours.”
She sucked in a breath, her mind spinning. “Why four hours?” she asked. “I mean, that’s sorta random.”
He chuckled and gave her a fake punch to the shoulder. “You always know what to say, don’t you?” He yawned. “Jesus, I need a shower.” He held the mesh shirt fabric away from his chest. “And to burn these clothes.”
They walked to the door marked Presidential Suite in silence. He lifted the keycard to flash at the reader, but she grabbed his arm at the last minute. “If we go in here together,” she said, her voice low, her gaze locked on his hand. “All bets are off.”
He lifted her chin with his finger. “We were placing bets?”
She closed her eyes, then opened them, unable to stop the tears. “I was talking to myself,” she said. He touched her cheeks. “I need you to know that I’m not … emotionally available to you or anyone else right now.”
He smiled, drawing her closer so she had to raise her arms and put them around his neck. “Why don’t you give it a try?” he asked, his lips hovering over hers.
Also in the Series
Amazon 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 for Real Life,” 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.
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