New Release!

Don’t you just love those words? New release. New book to read. New book smell… unless you use an e-reader.

This Old Cafe_PrintCover_June2017

This is the last book in my Stonehill Romance series. I love these people, this town, and this series, but I think five books in, I’ve told all the stories there are to tell here. That doesn’t mean the characters won’t be revisited down the road. Holiday freebies or novellas are always a possibility, but for now, we’re putting this one to bed.

And I have to say, Jenna and Daniel are a great way to go out.

Available at these super awesome sexy fine retailers:


Barnes & Noble



And more!

Dreams Collide Excerpt

Dreams Collide FINAL

Just wanted to pop in and share an excerpt from the last posted chapter of Dreams Collide–my reader-driven novel.

Chapter three is about to get underway, but it isn’t too late to have your say in what happens next.

If you haven’t yet, hop on over to my blog and give it a go…let me know what you think!

Here’s a little taste of what’s happening now…


Kendra squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over them for good measure as Jax cued up her last two performances. “Don’t make me do this.”

“We’re supposed to analyze each piece you did to see where you need improvement, although I have a pretty good idea already.”

“Do I have to watch?”

“’Fraid so, darlin’.” He laughed as he gently pulled her hands down and clicked the mouse on the laptop in the small studio inside their house.

Her heart pounded at the heat of his fingers around her wrist, still holding her hands from her face even though she’d made no move to hide again. The warmth of his touch was forgotten, and she moaned with humiliation as she watched herself singing. Her voice was fine; her stiff posture was atrocious.

“This is terrible,” she said.

Jax chuckled. “No, it’s not. It’s real. It’s raw. That’s what made it so refreshing. We all—the coaches I mean—said the same thing. You have a true talent that doesn’t require fancy dance moves and flashy lights. You feel the music and it shows. That’s awesome, Kendra. We just need to work on making a stronger connection with the audience. You get up there and you’re in your own world.”

“Okay,” she drawled out. “But you just said you already know what I need to work on, so why are we watching this?”

He turned off the video and faced her. His dark eyes bore into her soul and she felt her cheeks warm. Damn her pale skin for always betraying her.

“Your simplistic performances work for now,” he said, “but when you get down to three or four competitors, it’s going to bite you in the behind. You can’t grab an audience by blending into the background. You need to pull yourself out of that bubble and look at what is going on around you. Look at the fans, connect with them.”

She exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Not so great at that.”

“Have you had any stage experience?”

“Not really. I got caught up in life and music kind of took a backseat.”

“Why are you coming back to it now?”

“I was forced.”


She lifted her brows. “I always give the performers crap so my sister submitted a tape of me singing. But neither of us thought I’d actually get this far. Just getting past the regional auditions was unexpected, but to actually be in the top fifteen is insane.”

“It’s not insane,” Jax said genuinely and her cheeks grew even hotter. “You deserve to be here. Now we have to make sure you stay.”

“I’m not sure Justin Timberlake is the best tool for that. I’m not a pop singer.”

“I think you’ll be surprised what you can do when you step outside your box. What have you picked for your solo?”


“Pat Benatar?”


“What did you sing for your audition piece? The night you got voted into the top twenty?”

Ooh, barracuda,” she sang.

He grinned. “Heart, Stevie Nicks, and now Pat Benatar.”

Kendra’s confidence fell. “Is that wrong?”

“Not wrong. Classic rock is your comfort zone, but staying in your comfort zone isn’t going to help you grow, and if you don’t grow, you aren’t going to win. Want to know what we’re going to do for you, Miss Kendra?”

“No,” she deadpanned.

He ignored her. “We’re going to yank you right out of that cozy little bubble and toss you into the spotlight for the world to see.”

“Yay,” she said sarcastically. Even with his cute dimples, gorgeous smile, and sexy Southern drawl, his idea sounded terrible.

Swing by the blog to vote and leave feedback!



Throwing Slop at the Pigs, er, Doling Out Marketing Advice

Today, I’m going to decipher some of that marketing advice that’s thrown at authors in much the same way as farmers throw slop to pigs. Just toss it in there and they’ll gobble it up. Why? Because if there’s one thing all authors crave, it’s help selling books.

Let’s talk slop, er, shop. There are several pieces of advice I see as fairly predominant. These are the ones we read most frequently, the ones we are supposed to take to heart. The bits of information we are supposed to actually act on. But how many of us really know how to act? How to follow all this sage advice?

That’s what I’m going to go over today. Ready? Good. Let’s do this.

  1. Forsake all else and write another book.

Okay, maybe that’s not literally what “they” say. Usually “they” say it much more eloquently, in order to ensure authors believe their fabulous advice. Write a damn book. And another. And another. What I hear when I see this bit of advice thrown at me over and over again is: Forget marketing. Forget the world. Forget Amazon rankings. Just write the damn book.

Let me translate what “they” really mean. When you aren’t working the day job (because everyone has bills to pay), and you aren’t paying attention to your family (because they sort of expect it once in a while), and you aren’t flapping your arms on social media, trying to get somebody’s attention, and you aren’t managing your street team and seven hundred other Facebook groups, and you aren’t throwing spaghetti at the wall on Twitter, and you aren’t editing, and you aren’t updating your website, and you aren’t designing eye-catching graphics to announce that next book promo… In those seventeen minutes before you pass out cold at two a.m. – yeah, that’s when you should write the damn book. Because readers like books, the more the better.

  1. Authors must blog. Blogging draws readers.

Oh the irony that I’m writing a blog that is about to trash blogging. Okay, not really. I enjoy blogging. I do it probably more frequently than I ought to, given the next book isn’t yet done. And yes, I believe people enjoy reading blogs. I do. I read a lot of them. I share them, I post them, I take them to heart. I especially like the funny ones. It’s just, I notice most of them dole advice about how to be a better author or sell more books.

…which I’m not convinced are things readers want to read about. So if my blog posts are aimed at other authors, how is blogging going to help me sell books? Yeah, I know authors are readers, too. But I’ll let you in on a little secret: Yes, we read each other’s books, but often for free. It’s called beta reading or critique partners or reviewers. So while my author friends may very well read my books and (hopefully) enjoy them and therefore tell their fans about them, those aren’t exactly sales. Organic or strategic marketing, sure. But it’s not a direct sale. And I’m not convinced talking to authors about marketing advice is going to draw readers to my blog. I’d be thrilled if I’m wrong, but I’m not holding my breath.

  1. Brand yourself as an author – not as your books

This one is pretty straightforward, so I don’t think I need to explain much. But I will anyway. What’s a blog post without words, right?

So here’s how it works: You wanna be an author. You write a book, you take all the right steps (editing, quality cover, marketing, maybe even secure an agent and/or a contract with a publisher). You are so damn excited about that book that you start telling the world, before it’s even finished the first round of edits. You create a Facebook page using the book’s title. And a Twitter account. You design your website around the book. Use the cover as your profile pic on all your social media accounts – maybe even your personal Facebook page. That book is everywhere.

And then it finally releases. And then it’s time to write the next one. Now what? You’ve branded yourself as that book, so how in the world are you going to convince the world to read your next one, or the next after that?

Yeah, so this bit of advice has merit. But then again, many authors, famous authors, really, really famous authors, are known by their book series. The first one to pop into my head is JK Rowling. Then there’s that chic who wrote the Twilight series and the one who wrote Hunger Games. Oh yeah, and the Stephanie Plum series. And Game of Thrones – no, wait, everybody knows who GOT author, George, I-have-two-middle-initials Martin is. Anyway, I think you get my point. Which is…

Brand yourself and your books. Websites can be (and should be) updated regularly. Cover photos can be changed. Taglines and logos and Twitter handles are a little harder – so brand those as you and update your pics and website every time you release another book. And then when your series starts picking up steam (or, really, before that point), add a page to your website or a second Twitter handle (if you can handle the extra work. Don’t take on more than you’re capable of juggling. Remember, you’re still supposed to be writing the next book.). Why not be known as an author and by your book series?

  1. Build relationships with readers

This one makes me chuckle. First, this is a virtual world in which we live. In-person, intimate author events are practically non-existent. Author events are now large cons, and how the hell do you develop relationships when you’re competing with seven thousand other authors? Additionally, while I can be a social butterfly, it usually requires either wine or for me to be in my comfort zone, or more likely, a combination of the two. And building relationships with strangers (no offense, readers!) is not in my comfort zone. I don’t imagine readers want to curl up on the couch with me while I’m in my pajamas drinking a lovely rosé.

Do they?

So what does this really mean? Well, it means be yourself. Yep. Be… you. The person who wills the clock to tick past noon so she doesn’t feel guilty for pouring that first glass of wine. The person who nearly wept when her laptop had to go to the shop for a few days. The person who would rather stay home and write the next book (or hang out on social media, posting funny memes about writing that next book) instead of go to an actual, literal, in-person social event. The person who considers her dog to be an additional child, and sometimes her husband too. The person who has a day job but likes to pretend she doesn’t because she would much rather be a fulltime author.

Yeah… you got it. Be yourself, even when you’re on your author social media sites. Make it personal. Pretend you’re a movie star or rock star. Tell me you don’t love it when movie stars or rock stars post pics of their new puppies or babies. Makes you feel like you got a glimpse into their lives, doesn’t it? That’s exactly what readers want. From you.

  1. Organic marketing

I confess, I bought into the organic marketing concept, mostly because it works. But dear God, it is a phrase I. Am. Sick. Of. I’ve worked in nonprofit, in public relations, as an event planner, in sales, in fundraising. I get organic marketing.

But it is one of those overused corporate terms that makes me want to grab the nearest fork and stab somebody in the eye. Repeatedly. It ranks up there with, “It is what it is” – a phrase that, whenever I hear it, I also hear nails on a chalkboard, and I cringe accordingly. Also, “cascade down” is pretty high on that list, because no phrase can make someone feel like a peon more succinctly than that one—and even if we are peons, we don’t want to be reminded of that fact every damn time we get a corporate email. Come on, leaders.

True confession: My hatred of the term, “It is what it is,” is quite personal, actually. Once upon a time, during the Great Recession of the Early Two-Thousands, I worked in hotel sales, for a general manager who was the world’s cockiest son of a bitch (without much justification) and a director of sales who never, ever ceased to look out for number one. When cuts had to be made—because I live in Detroit and nobody was traveling to Detroit back then—I was the lucky one to get put on the chopping block. When the director of sales informed me of my imminent demise within the hotel sales industry, she gave me a saccharin smile and said, “It is what it is.”

Which is complete and utter bullshit. “It is what it is” is an excuse to not try harder or find another route or seek out a goddamn solution to your problem.

While I sound bitter, I’m actually not. To tell you the truth, getting laid off was without question one of the best things to have happened to me. Since there was a recession and I couldn’t find another job in Corporate America, that’s when I started writing with a vengeance. Because I got laid off, I’m here today, blogging to you all. So maybe I should love that phrase, instead of loathe it…Nah. I still hate it. It’s a cop out.

Anyway, back to deciphering organic marketing. As I see it, organic marketing is the same thing as building relationships with readers. It means thinking long-term, always think long-term. Few authors will be successful overnight or even in ten days or ten weeks or ten months or, well, let’s not go the ten-years route just yet.

If you stick to it, if you continue to write, continue to put out quality (big emphasis here on that “Q” word) books, continue to market them, continue to build your relationships with readers, then yeah, you’ll make it. Maybe not JK Rowling make it, but you’ll develop an audience, have readers who eagerly anticipate your next book. And, frankly, in today’s publishing world, that’s pretty damn impressive all on its own.

So just keep at it. Don’t stop. Don’t give up. Don’t ever utter the phrase, “It is what it is…” Sorry, that one’s personal. Let’s try this again…

I could go on and on, but you’d get bored or your lunch break is gonna end, and I personally hate really long blog posts, so let me stop here and quickly recap today’s lesson:

  1. Write the next book
  2. Market yourself – and your books
  3. Blog because you like it and maybe you’ll get lucky and someone will actually read it
  4. Be yourself on social media
  5. Don’t expect overnight success, but don’t give up, either. It’ll happen. Probably later, but it will.

Ready? #yougotthis

Tami Lund Headshot 2014

Tami Lund is an author, award winner, wine drinker, and blogger, not necessarily in that order. She tends to dole out advice while drinking copious amounts of wine, so you should probably take whatever she says with a grain of salt … or another glass of wine.



#AudioBook One Night With Her Husband by @SSaraDaniel

Here’s another installment from the One Night with the Bridal Party series. This was one is for everyone who met and fell in love while in college, which is what my husband and I did — minus all the drama that Marcia and Adrian go through in this book!

All she wants is one more night with her husband before she lets him go.

She walked away from her marriage seven years ago…
Marcia Johnson always assumed her husband would follow her eventually. She’d achieve success while she waited and prove her decision the right one. But when he finally turns up, she’s not ready. Her career hangs in the balance, and her weight has skyrocketed. How can she face the man she loves and show him she made the right choice? Especially when he’s matured from a decent-looking college student into the sexiest man she’s ever seen.

He’s waited seven years for his wife to finally need him…
If Adrian Torres can save her business, maybe he’ll have a shot at saving their marriage. But the woman he finds is too competent and independent to ask him for help. She even shrugs off his touch instead of reacting with the desire he hoped to ignite. Have the embers of their marriage finally died? Is it time to end their relationship and move forward?

He wants a divorce…
Her world ripped apart, Marcia turns to 1Night Stand to give her one more night before she lets Adrian go. She dares not hope for more. Even Madame Eve couldn’t have the magic to save their neglected disaster of a relationship…could she?

Narrated by Hollie Jackson
Buy Links:

So I’m doing this thing

Dreams Collide FINAL

Little known fact: I cut my writing teeth on fan fiction long, long ago.

Not exactly returning to my roots, but in a kinda sorta roundabout way, I am. I’m doing this whole “reader-driven” novel. What does that mean?

Well, any fan fiction junkie knows that the stories are posted chapter by chapter and we needy writers LIVE for feedback from readers. So much so, that oftentimes the reader’s feedback has a huge impact on the direction of the story line.

I’m embracing that interactive style with this new story, Dreams Collide, which is being posted on my blog.

When Kendra Michaels gets a coveted spot on the reality TV show Music Star Dreams, the last thing she expects is fall for her coach–superstar Jax Landry. For Jax, taking on a team of wannabe singers is his way of bouncing back after an ugly divorce. He’s determined to prove he isn’t the bad guy his ex made him out to be in the tabloids, but that may not be as easy as he expected. Especially when one particular member of his team has captured his attention and maybe even his heart.

I am giving readers plenty of time to catch up and let me know what they want to see happen. Once the novel is complete, I’ll post the book in its entirety as a FREE download!

I’d love for you to join me and let me know your thoughts! Check it out! 


Plugged In

ipod listeningI am an audiophile to the Nth degree, literally owning hundreds of audiobooks.

In the morning, I listen to books while I walk from my bedroom to the kitchen to make my breakfast, then down to my office and wait for my computer to boot up. You’d be amazed at how much of the book you can listen to in that ten minutes.

Since we live twenty minutes outside of town, I shove in earbuds even before I don sunglasses and head to the garage. I can finish half a book while running errands. Until you’ve tried it, you have no idea what it’s like to listen to a hot, steamy sex scene while shopping at Walmart. You get the strangest looks when you burst out giggling in front of the meat coolers at the Kroger.

earbudsMy family thinks I’m crazy but I love to mow the lawn. It’s not because I like to drive the big honking zero turn radius mower, it’s because I have 3 ½ hours of uninterrupted listening. Yes, it takes that long to mow approximately 4 acres, even with the 52 inch cutting deck.

Macho Marine gets upset with me because I’m always plugged into a story. He’ll be calling me from somewhere else in the house and I won’t hear him. Oh, well. My book boyfriend is so much more romantic than he is. I guess that’s why romance novels are categorized as fiction.

Tell me your craziest listening experience in the comments below. Or tell me who you’re listening to. 

Last night I downloaded the new J. D. Robb novel Secrets in Death and Susan Stoker’s Protecting Dakota. I just finished Elle James’s Bride Protector and Delirious by M.S. Force.

12 Magical Nights Teaser from Tami Lund

“I know Christmas is still a few days away, but I’ve brought you a gift. A small token to prove to you I’m sincere.”

Asher cringed as the royally annoying Prince Julian Montclair spoke in his oily, far-from-sincere voice.

And no doubt he was talking to Princess Charlotte. Julian had been chasing the princess’s skirts for nearly as long as Asher has known him. Since that day, ten years ago, when he’d come across Asher and Charlotte kissing in the woods and had been so furious, he’d gotten Asher thrown into the dungeons beneath his father’s castle.

Sure, Asher was a pauper and the princess, well, she wasn’t supposed to be locking lips with someone so beneath her station, but gods be damned, they’d been thirteen at the time. The punishment hadn’t exactly fit the crime.

Shaking his head, Asher turned to head back to the stable. He’d intended to give one of the horses a run, but not if it meant he would have to interact with the two people around the corner—out of sight, but not out of earshot.

“You’re giving me a necklace? Why do you think you need to prove your sincerity, Julian?”

Asher paused, curiosity overruling the knowledge that being anywhere in Julian’s vicinity was never in his best interest.

“The serving girl comes to mind,” Julian said, and Asher’s fist tightened around the reins until the leather bit into his skin.

“You insisted that was entirely innocent. Are you changing your story?” There was a layer of frost to Charlotte’s voice now.

“No, not at all. It’s just … I know you were upset by it. Even if it was innocent. Because, of course, it looked … well, we all know what it looked like.”

Asher leaned forward to better catch her response, which was silly since he doubted she would say, “Yah, it looked like you were trying to convince that serving girl to share your bed that night. And considering you’re a fucking prince, it probably happened. Even though you’re supposedly courting me, presumably falling in love with me, treating me like the princess I am, the queen I will someday be.”

But the words were only in Asher’s head. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all, and eventually, Julian cleared his throat.

“It’s enchanted,” he said. “See how it has started to glow with a blue light? That’s how you know your one true love is near.”

Give me a break. An enchanted necklace? Fucking parlor tricks. Asher could create magic like that in his sleep. And he’d bet the ten silver pieces he was paid last week that Prince Julian either bought the necklace that way or paid someone to cast a spell over it. Because everyone and the gods were fully aware the man could barely invoke the simplest of spells.

But power and control were all about the station one was born into, and Julian Montclair has been one lucky son of a bitch—no, son of a queen—since the moment he came into this world, wailing like a gods-damned banshee.

“It’s lovely,” Charlotte said. “And it’s warm to the touch.” Asher grimaced as her voice drifted over him, like it always did, making him hard, making him grit his teeth, making him angry for being so stupid. There were plenty of women in the village who were of an acceptable station and perfectly happy to warm Asher’s bed for a day, an hour, a year, however long he was willing—and he wouldn’t end up in the gallows the next morning, either.

Yet all he did was yearn for a woman he couldn’t have. A woman he didn’t really want.

Okay, didn’t want to want.

“It’s channeling my feelings,” Julian’s unctuous voice said. He was touching her, too, no doubt. He’d likely removed his gloves so he could rub his hands over her arms, his fingers probably grazing the sides of her breasts. Asher had seen him do it too many times to those serving girls he swore he wasn’t sleeping with. It was his signature move.


Wait, no, Julian wasn’t the bastard. That was Asher. He was the one born without a father, while Julian had been born into royalty, his mother a queen, his father, the king, standing by, prepared to declare him heir to the kingdom.

Clearly tired of skulking here instead of going for the ride Asher had promised, the horse nickered and pawed the ground.

Damn it.

“Oh. Who’s there?”

And then the princess stepped around the corner, resplendent as ever in a pale blue cloak lined with white fur, white leather gloves, and a matching hat perched at a slightly off-kilter angle on her golden curls. Those almond-shaped blue eyes widened for a moment when her gaze fell onto Asher, and the sides of her rose-colored lips lifted into a smile. For him. And the fact that they moved at all meant she hadn’t been smiling before.

Gods be damned, he’d spent his whole miserable life pining for things he couldn’t have, and this woman was most definitely the farthest out of reach of all his unobtainable dreams.

“Asher.” The way she said his name, slightly breathy, almost hopeful, slammed into his balls like it always did, and he shifted his hips and willed his hand not to reach down to adjust his swelling cock.

“Were you taking Juniper out for a ride?” she asked.

He glanced at the snow-covered ground, at the woods on the horizon, at the garland of evergreen boughs dressed with red ribbons adorning the stone structure next to them. Pretty much everywhere but at her and her companion.

Clearing his throat, he finally nodded. Julian glared at him like he wished he could conjure daggers with his mind and toss them at Asher. Too bad for Julian he couldn’t even create a simple poison and convince Asher to drink it.

“Perhaps I would like a ride,” Charlotte said, brushing her gloved hand along the horse’s neck. “Julian and I are heading to the stable so he can be off. He really needs to go so he is home in time for Christmas.”

“I told you, I’m happy to stay—”

She shook her head and talked over Julian’s protest. “Nonsense. Go home and spend the holiday with your family. You’ll be back again soon enough. Too soon, undoubtedly.”

Asher bit the inside of his cheek to keep from chuckling, while Julian gave the princess a look as if he couldn’t quite determine if she was insulting him.

“Would you mind saddling a horse for me, Asher?” Charlotte asked.

He was the horse trainer, not the stable boy, but those of high stations didn’t always understand the difference. Or care. Sighing, he followed along behind when she and Julian began walking toward the stable.

Asher watched as the prince reached out as if he meant to clasp Charlotte’s hand, and she tucked her own into the folds of her heavy cloak. It may have been an entirely innocent movement, but Asher wasn’t convinced. Which was interesting, because he, like nearly everyone else in the kingdom, was under the assumption Charlotte welcomed Julian’s advances. For most of the last ten years, the king and queen have been anticipating the day they announce their betrothal and therefore finally make the move to merge the two kingdoms.

For Asher, it was the day he planned to move on, to pack his meager belongings and strike out on his own, to go in search of a new home. He would never live in a place ruled by Julian Montclair.

“Hey, stable boy,” Julian said when they stepped inside the stone and wood structure.

Asher snorted. His arms were twice the size of Julian’s, his chest wider, his legs thicker and stronger. With the mop of dark hair on his head and the thick growth of beard on his face that he was too lazy to shave, he was far from being a boy, and Julian bloody well knew it.

“Horse trainer, actually,” Charlotte said. Asher caught her eye and arched his brow. She didn’t need to defend him. He didn’t give a fuck what this loser thought of him.

“Well,” Julian muttered, flapping his hand. “Do you see a stable boy around anywhere? I presume one who trains horses can also prepare them for a journey.”

“I presume one who rides horses can too,” Asher snapped back before he could catch himself.

Julian narrowed his eyes and glared at Asher, who didn’t flinch or look away. Julian may carry the title of prince, but until he married the princess, he had no authority while they stood on her father’s land. Not like ten years ago, when he claimed Asher and Charlotte were on his parents’ property when they’d been kissing by that stream that created the boundary between the two kingdoms.

“Oh gods above,” Charlotte said, and she shouldered her way past the two men and stomped toward to the stall where Julian’s horse had been housed for the past seven days while its owner called upon the princess and tried to woo her into becoming his wife. When he wasn’t wooing serving girls into his bed, at any rate.

Not wanting the finicky animal to bite or kick Charlotte, Asher hurried after her, reaching the stall door first and nudging her out of the way so he could tend to Julian’s snorting, glaring beast. The necklace around her neck glowed more brightly for a scant second.

Stupid parlor tricks.

Asher shook his head and guided the horse to where Julian’s saddle and tack were being kept, near the stablemaster’s office. The moment the last strip of leather was secured around the horse’s belly, Charlotte stepped up to the beast, Julian trailing along behind her.

“Thank you for visiting,” she said, patting the horse’s shoulder. “And for the token.” She touched the slightly glowing gem, a bright blue resting against the pale blue of her cloak.

“I’ll be back on Christmas Day,” Julian said.

“That really isn’t necessary,” she said. “You should stay home, be with your family.”

Julian reached for her and hesitated. “Could you give us a moment?” he said, glaring at Asher, who shrugged and led his horse outside into the snow, securing it next to the one he’d intended to take for a run before he bumped into the courting couple.

In short order, the prince strode from the stable and snatched the reins, smoothly leaping onto the horse’s back. Glancing down at Asher, he lowered his lids and said, “Paupers don’t marry princesses, boy. Perhaps you should set your sights lower.”

Asher arched his brows. “I’m not the one unsuccessfully courting the princess. Or whoring around with serving girls in the interim. I recently heard another has discovered herself with child, and with no man about to lay claim to her bastard.”

Julian’s face turned as red as his cloak, his ungloved hand squeezing the reins so tightly, the knuckles were white. “Do you recall your visit to my father’s dungeon? Do you recall the smell? The sounds? The fear that permeated the place?”

Asher still regularly woke from a restless sleep, bathed in sweat, his heart beating erratically, as his mind relived those moments when he’d thought he was going to perish in that underground prison.

“It’s gotten worse,” Julian continued, one side of his lips quirking. “And I cannot wait for the day I make the princess mine. Because that’ll be the same day you return to that place—and this time, you won’t leave alive.”

Magic coursed through Asher’s veins and he struggled to control the urge to knock Julian from his horse and beat the man to a bloody pulp. Instead, he touched his fingers to the horse’s rump, giving it a slight zap, which caused it to snort and jump, bucking and leaping around in circles while Julian tugged on the reins and shouted at the animal.

Turning away from the sight, Asher came to a stuttering halt when Charlotte stood not ten feet away, holding Juniper and another horse both by the reins. While he’d been verbally sparring with Julian, she had saddled her own horse.

“I would have done that for you,” he said.

She shrugged. “Like you said, if one can ride the beast, one should know how to prepare it for the journey.”

Right. He hadn’t meant for her to take that particular insult to heart.

“Help me up?” she asked. Apparently the interaction with Julian had made him bold, because instead of lacing his fingers so she could use his hands as a step up, he grasped her around the waist and tossed her into the saddle. She gave a startled eep and covered the glowing pendant with her hand. “Thank you.” Her voice was breathy again, like she’d gotten some sort of enjoyment out of that brief moment of physical contact.

He nodded and leaped onto Juniper’s back, tugging the reins to guide the horse down the path leading to the woods where he often exercised the animals. Julian, he noted, had gotten his own beast under control and was cantering away in the opposite direction, toward the road that would take him back to his home. The same path Asher and Charlotte had taken that fateful day ten years ago, when their innocence had been striped in more ways than one.

Asher spurred his horse on, needing the speed to help chase the demons away—not to mention the lust swimming through his system. Which was ridiculous. Charlotte was untouchable, a princess; one who was all but engaged to another. To Julian Montclair, no less.

When would he ever learn to stop yearning for things he could not have?

Sound interesting? It’s the first chapter of my contribution to an upcoming Christmas anthology called 12 Magical Nights of Christmas. Releases on Christmas Eve. The cover reveal is in a couple weeks, September 15-17, over on Facebook. Here’s the link:

12 Magical Nights of Christmas Cover Reveal Party

Head on over; it’s guaranteed to be fun. There will be prizes, books, and a bunch of authors having a grand ole time. Pretty sure the book will be up for pre-order by then, too. Oh yeah, and all proceeds from sales of the anthology will be donated to St. Jude’s Children’s Hospital. This same group of authors worked together on a Valentine’s anthology and ultimately donated thousands of dollars to St. Jude’s!

Tami Lund Headshot 2014



Tami Lund is an author, award winner, wine drinker, and contributor to fun anthologies. Her website is here, if you want to scope it out for a free read: