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To my mind, it was all it was cracked up to be. We did it up well, staying at the MGM Grande one of the biggies on the Strip. Saw shows, paid eye popping amounts of money of very nice dinners, sat by the pool (well I did anyway), got a veeeerrrry sexy massage (ditto), gambled a wee bit (ended up ahead by $150 after 3 days) and met some new friends as we bar hopped trying to find the most over the top one possible. The Luxor has the best one, hands down. Check it out. And I even experienced my first strip club. The Spearmint Rhino was truly eye opening and fun on many levels. But that’s another post…

We liked it so much we turned around and went back out there for the fabled Consumer Electronics Show (CES) which dovetails every year with the AVN (Adult Video Network awards show and expo). 

Uh huh, electronic geeks and porn stars. Vegas was sizzling. I met some porn stars, rode a bucking bronco shaped like a phallus (I have photo proof trust me), got to be part of a “portable” pole dance show (I’m not shy in case you have not guessed), the works.

I love the feeling of landing at the Las Vegas airport. It’s like all your cares and woes are behind you. You’re entering a world of sheer fantasy and do-what-you-will exuberance that rivals any boring old beach vacation. I’ve been way naughty there, in ways I never imagined, and don’t regret a single moment of it!

In my upcoming novel, Vegas Miracle, I channeled the energy boost I get every time I go to Sin City. Vegas Miracle is not set entirely in Vegas but the city is at its heart.

I hope you enjoy it!

Blurb: Vegas Miracle

Ryan and Grace Sullivan have all the outward indications of a happy life: money, success, an undeniable physical attraction that quickly evolved from whirlwind relationship to marriage. But lately, Ryan's become moody and distant. As their relationship starts to crumble, Ryan discovers something about himself he can't admit just as Grace realizes the young man she encounters at an invitation only party, Henri Christophe, a celebrity chef with the most successful restaurant in Las Vegas, is her husband's lover. But Henri holds a secret himself. He wants to be more to both of them.

Trying to make their unconventional arrangement work, Ryan's deep-seated fear of relationship failure continues to thwart everyone's happiness. When he finally walks away instead of confronting the emotional connection the trio share, he returns to find their lives flipped inside out. A sought after hotel and resort consultant, Ryan has yet to meet a problem he couldn't solve. But when it comes to his own heart, Ryan may be too late.

 
EXCERPT:

(Ryan and Grace have just attended a very exclusive, invitation only lifestyle party where she has met, and had sex with Henri, Ryan’s lover. Ryan didn’t know about Henri’s plan to do that, alone, without him. He wasn’t happy about it but in his typical emotionally constipated way, he simply left the party and headed back to his private office/condo.)

 Slumped down in the lounge chair, he brooded about his predicament, holding his phone in one hand and toying with the idea of just calling his wife and bringing her to the condo – mere blocks from the one he shared with her—and laying it all out on the table. She wasn’t stupid. The intense moment back at the party was pretty telling, Ryan realized. It wouldn’t take her long to put the pieces together and God only knows what Henri told her after Ryan stomped out instead of facing them together.

Visions of Grace, her sleeping face, her body hunched over a keyboard as she entered her writing zone, biting her lip while she picked out the right bottle of wine for dinner, all flitted through his head. He knew damn good and well he was cheating her. Not just cheating ON her, but cheating her out of his whole self. He was only truly realizing it after several recent arguments over his "emotional constipation" and "aloof, bullshit attitude" about things that mattered to her, like kids. That and Henri’s constant harping about how he should open up to her more.

What he couldn’t tell her or Henri was that he was terrified. Down deep he was petrified at the thought of failing at marriage. But also of her finding out about Henri, and about his own need for the man. She was going to be crushed but he had hoped to ease her into it. To convince her he could love them equally somehow.

"Right," he scoffed to himself. He couldn’t even effectively convince her he felt anything beyond the drive to succeed. She reminded him of this repeatedly. And she was right, on one level. He was driven and successful and enjoyed the trappings and rewards and tried to share them with her. He stood up and leaned on the balcony railing, taking deep breaths of cool night air, trying like hell to calm his wildly spinning brain.

Ryan closed his eyes at the sound of the key in the lock. He didn’t move as Henri entered, made a tsk-tsk sound over the mess in the foyer, grabbed a glass and the bourbon decanter and joined him on the balcony. The sound of liquid splashing into the glass and the hiss of the fabric as Henri eased back into his chair brought no response from Ryan. He remained standing, staring at the night sky, unable to form words as his lover of nearly two years sat and watched him in silence.

"Just what, exactly were you hoping to accomplish by fucking my wife?" He finally asked, keeping his eyes trained on the horizon.

Henri stood and leaned over the balcony, mirroring Ryan’s stance.

"I thought it was why you brought her. But I'll say, you were right. She's amazing."  Henri sipped his bourbon and looked at the tall blonde beside him.

Ryan turned to look into Henri’s deep brown eyes, the eyes that held him the moment they met in France two years ago. That compulsion, the weekend they shared together, led him places he never imagined he’d go and now he couldn’t give it up. He shook his head and looked back out over the Detroit River, remorse and dread twisting in his gut.

He shut his eyes once more as he felt Henri’s hands on his shoulders, kneading, smoothing out the tension in his muscles.

"You can’t distract me. I’m hugely pissed off at you."

"I know, but at least you won’t be tense so you can really focus on the anger. Now sit so I can reach you properly."

Ryan sighed, suppressing a smile at the man’s ability to defuse. It was a talent he wished Grace had. Her tendency was to ramp up the ante, to find the sore spot and grind her heel into it until Ryan lashed out, making the whole thing much worse than it usually was. Sitting, pouring himself one final splash of bourbon, he let Henri work on his shoulders and upper back, groaning as the knots untied and his neck lost some of its rigid stress.

"Ow, Jesus," Ryan yelped when Henri’s knuckle dug into his trapezoid.

"Shut up already," the young man’s voice was airy, relaxed. "Let me work."

After about twenty solid minutes spent over Ryan’s shoulders and upper back, Henri leaned down to his ear.

"She’ll be okay."  Ryan turned and frowned, wincing as the freshly released nerves in his neck sang out in protest.

"You don’t have to treat her with kid gloves, Ryan. She’s a grown woman, a successful author. She's used to being on her own. Just because you swept her off her feet in an admittedly really romantic fashion doesn’t mean she needs to be coddled like some hot house rose."

"I think I know how to handle…"

Henri took his hands off Ryan’s shoulders.

            "You know what, I don’t think you do. And that’s part of the problem."

            Henri flopped into his chair and propped his bare feet up. Ryan stared at him.

            "I hardly think a guy who managed to stay married about thirty minutes is qualified…"

            Henri held a hand up.

            "Don’t be condescending. I never claimed to know anything about women. I just think I have a handle on this one—you know, the one we want to share our lives with?"  He raised an eyebrow at Ryan.

BIO:

Microbrewery owner, beer blogger and journalist, mom of three teenagers, and soccer fan, Liz lives in the great middle west, 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 beer inventory, sales figures or promotional efforts for her latest publication, doing pounds of laundry for her sweaty athletic children, watching La Liga on the Fox Soccer Channel, or trying to figure out what to order in for dinner, she can be found walking her standard poodles or doing Bikram Yoga. Liz loves her Foo Fighters Pandora station, and watching reruns of Deadwood, when there isn't any decent European football on the telly. If you want a beer education follow her: www.a2beerwench.com. For writing related stuff, including her backlist, go to: www.brewingpassion.com.