New Release and Two Free Books!

Over the past few years, I was a part of a Rockford writing club called the Prompt Club. It was the brainchild of Mary Lamphere, who not only compiled the list of prompts for the year, but also scheduled our meeting times/places and printed folders and bags for the members.

Despite it being called the Prompt Club, I don’t think I was ever on time. The one time I was, I had the night wrong. #soitgoes There were such talented writers in our club! It was very inspiring to be around such a group.

At any rate, three years of Prompt Club times twelve 1000-word stories a year adds up, and I had over forty short stories languishing away on my flash drive, where they’re not entertaining anyone! I write humorous articles quite a bit, and five of my stories ended up being published in the amusing book series “Not Your Mother’s Book” a few years ago. I have two in NYMB on Sex, and one in each of the following categories: Parenting, Family, and Being a Stupid Kid. Some of the funniest stories went on my blog as well, the Life and Times of Poopwa Foley. However, I also love to write paranormal, creepy stories and had many, many of those too.

I assembled my favorites and bought a cover from Go On Write. Fun fact—I ordered a cover from them last Thursday at 1:42 p.m. I received the completed cover ready to go THREE MINUTES LATER—not kidding! Check them out!

The Amazon fairies did their magic and published my collection of short stories this past Saturday. It’s called “Weird, Wicked Tales…Creepy Stories for All Hollow’s Weird, Wicked Tales - High Resolution - Version 1Eve.” I have gotten great feedback from early readers, and I’m really excited about the stories. Take a look for yourself, if you’re in the mood for some spine-chilling tales!

If that wasn’t enough, I have made Baylyn, Bewitched (a mystical, magical witchy romance) free for the Halloween season. Why? Because Halloween is so friggin awesome, that’s why! Baylyn, Bewitched is a book I co-wrote with my sister, along with the second book called Cat, Charmed. We had a blast co-writing and are proud of the finished books.

41j-aIQTHsL__UY250_Another book I wrote is free today and tomorrow. It’s called Knew You’d Come, an erotic time travel/paranormal novella. This story is near and dear to my heart because it contains several things that make me happy…time travel, ghosts, romance, and of course, hot, smexy times.41zTJz4riFL__UY250_

A tiny sample:

She transcribed the recording but the typed up transcript of the conversation came off as frightening. Creepy. The tone and timbre of his voice, however, had been patient. Kind. Loving, if a little perturbed. Oddly, she had felt exhilarated hearing his voice. It had sounded so familiar to her and lit a flame in her that she had not even known was there.

That was frightening.

Then there was the fact that she wanted to hear his voice again.

That was frightening, too.

But the quiet joy in her heart—the little voice in her head that whispered “You found him. You found him, finally.”

That was the most frightening of all.

This All Hollow’s Eve, get your scare on. Try my book of creepy short stories, Weird, Wicked Tales. If that’s not up your alley, give Baylyn, Bewitched a try. If you’re looking for something smoldering hot, grab your copy of Knew You’d Come.

Happy Halloween!

**Cover Reveal with a (Vampire) Bite**

Blood Courtesans: Awakenings
Publication date: January 17th 2017
Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

Darkly decadent and sinfully sensual.

Enter a world where vampires are real, rich, hungry and meet the women who become their blood courtesans. Come let the fangs slip into your blood and awaken you to a whole new life. A boxed set of NEW stories in this popular series.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble / Kobo / iBooks

GIVEAWAY!

Enter to win here!

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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.

Bastard.

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: http://tamilund.com.

 

A Sexy Daddy, A Determined Nanny, A Precocious 3 Year Old…And A Goat

6ab8d-sexy2bbad2bdaddy2bfinal

“Do you like golf?” I ask.

“Yep. Daddy says I’m a natural.” She’s distracted by something over my shoulder, and I turn my head in time to watch as Garrett makes contact with another golf ball, sending it soaring past the 250-yard sign again. Abby jumps to her feet, clapping enthusiastically, and I follow her as she runs up to once again bump fists with him.

“Hey,” he says to her. “Erin here doesn’t know anything about golf. I bet she can’t even swing a club. Want to show her how it’s done?”

Abby nods and rushes to the nearby golf bag while Garrett follows behind and plucks a miniature club from the depths. He then places a ball on the tee and hands the iron to Abby, briefly suggesting she modify her stance before letting her take a swing. The ball flies through the air, landing near the 50-yard sign.

“Is that good?” I ask dubiously.

“Considering she’s three, I’d say yes,” Garrett replies. She rushes up to him and he enthusiastically tells her how great she was, and my heart pitter-patters uncomfortably. Despite my discomfort, I want this job more and more with each passing moment. I’m already half in love with the kid, and the dad isn’t so bad either.

“Your turn,” he says, pulling another club from the bag and offering it to me.

“I’m good,” I say, waving it off.

“Hit the ball,” Abby says.

“Yeah, why don’t you play with my ball?” Garrett taunts, holding one with his thumb and forefinger and twisting it to and fro.

I take back my almost-positive thought about Frost. “Fine,” I say, shrugging out of my coat and snatching the club from his hand. “What do I need to do?”

I know he intends to stand behind me, snuggle up close, and wrap his arms around me, all under the pretence of giving me a golf lesson. And I don’t want him to because really, I want him to. I want to know what that hard body feels like pressed against mine. Will he develop a hard-on? Will he rub himself against me while he whispers in my ear? Will I be turned on?

What a silly question.

“Stand over there,” he says, pointing at the area between two plastic triangles that separate each practice area from the others. “Now grab a ball from the bucket and place it on the tee. Okay, spread your legs, about a shoulder’s width apart. Good. Now hold the club like this.” I copy what he’s doing and place the head of the club on the ground. “Now…” He goes on for a solid five minutes while he continually tells me to adjust my stance and then explains which foot I want to put my weight on and how to swing my hips and a whole bunch of other instructions that pretty much go in one ear and out the other until I’m itching to just swing the damn club already. And he does it all from ten feet away, so I literally get no pleasure from this interaction.

None. Nada. Not even—

“Swing.”

Automatically, I do as he says. The club connects with the ball and sends it soaring … And it plops down a few feet from Abby’s ball.

“Wow,” the little girl says. “That didn’t go very far.”

“You should probably keep your day job,” her dad says.

“First I have to secure one,” I snap back. Shit, I’ve just made a fool of myself and now he probably won’t give me the job.

“What do you think, Abby?” Garrett says. “Should we keep her?”

“I’d rather have a goat.”

My gaze flies to Garrett’s face, and he’s laughing so hard he has to swipe away a tear. When he finally manages to regain his demeanor, he winks at me and says to his daughter, “You and a goat, alone together, would cause more trouble than a barrelful of monkeys.” She giggles. God, she’s cute. I suppose it helps that she looks just like her dad.

“All right,” Garrett says, this time focusing on me. “Trial run. Today. I’ve got about two more hours of this. I’ll break for lunch, and then I need to play a round. I spoke to the agency this morning and they swear you’re trustworthy—with kids.”

Oh shit. They didn’t tell him about the incident, did they? They’re supposed to be bound by law not to tell.

“So why don’t you let Abby show you around the club? You keep her entertained and then meet me for lunch in the clubhouse, say, 12:30. After that, if everybody’s still happy, I’ll give you the keys and you can take her back to my place to hang out until I’m done here. Deal?”

“Deal.” I automatically thrust out my hand, and he glances at it for a moment before grasping it and shaking. It’s an odd sensation since he’s wearing a golf glove, but who cares? I got the job! “You won’t regret this,” I promise him, and then I grab Abby’s hand and ask her to give me the tour.

I can feel his gaze on me as we walk away, but I understand. He’s nervous about leaving his daughter in the care of a stranger, even if said stranger was sent to him from a reputable nanny-placement agency. He’ll learn soon enough that he has nothing to worry about.

His daughter is in good hands.

And these hands are going to stay away from him.

Grown Ass Man PromoWant it? Click the title below:

SEXY BAD DADDY

 

Tami Lund Headshot 2014

 

Tami Lund drinks wine, wins awards, and writes sexy bad books. Check out her website here: http://tamilund.com

Birthday Gifts All Week

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This is a gift for everyone:

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Unconventional Beginnings is the prequel to the Black Swan series. You will meet several of the characters seen throughout the entire series. Although it is a bit of a cliffhanger, I have also included the first several chapters of Unrelenting Love.

 

Click on the cover to Download Unconventional Beginnings FREE

 

 

Birthday Sale

 

 

I have put many of my books on sale until midnight Saturday, May 20. (Amazon only)

 

Click on the ad to go to  the KaLyn Cooper Author Page.

 

 

 

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Every day I’m running contests and giving away multiple gifts. 

 

Click on the Birthday Week picture to hop over to the KaLyn Cooper Facebook Page. 

 

Hurry…My Birthday Week celebration ends Saturday, May 20 at midnight!

 

Happy Release Day, Caroline Warfield!

Today, I’m using my blog post to highlight an author friend and her latest release. Why? Well, because every now and then, a page-turning historical romance is just what the doctor ordered.

Okay, maybe not the doctor, but certainly the romantic in all of us.

So I give you Caroline Warfield, and her latest release, The Reluctant Wife. (Even historical romance titles are awesome). Read all the way through, because there are a couple of giveaways tucked away in this post. Now, carry on…

It’s Launch Day!

Caroline Warfield is over the moon to finally be able to release The Reluctant Wife into the wild.

This sweeping story carries readers from the edge of Bengal to Calcutta to the Suez and across the desert, to rural England while two people stumble into love in spite of themselves. The hero, a clueless male with more honor than sense, never stops trying to do the right thing. Imagine his shock when he realizes people actually depend on him! The heroine is a courageous wounded duck with more love bottled up than she finds comfortable. Along the way it features a meteor shower, a tragic asassination, colonial officials, steamboats, narrow minded officers’ wives, herbal remedies, a desert bivouac, a court martial, interfering relatives, a horrific fire, and camels. The self important villain, rotten to the core, makes the hero miserable in both India and England, until the hero brings him down—with a little help from family—in the end. And last but not least, it features two charming children, one a precocius little girl who pushes the hero to do what is right even when he is confused about what that is. Caroline Warfield Reluctant Wife

The author dedicts this one to her father, the constant soldier, who understood duty and loyalty as few people do.

Thank you for joining the celebration. Tell us about your favorite story elements. Caroline will give a kindle copy of The Renegade Wife, Book 1 in the series, to one person who comments.

She is also sponsoring a grand prize in celebration of her release. You can enter it here: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/2017blogtourpackage/   The prequel to this series, A Dangerous Nativity, is always **FREE**. You can get a copy here: http://www.carolinewarfield.com/bookshelf/a-dangerous-nativity-1815/

The Reluctant Wife

Children of Empire, Book 2

Genre: Pre Victorian, Historical Romance

Heat rating: 3

Pub date: April 26, 2017 (today!)

Children of Empire

Three cousins, torn apart by lies and deceit and driven to the far reaches of the empire, struggle to find their way home.

Book 2

When all else fails, love succeeds…

Captain Fred Wheatly’s comfortable life on the fringes of Bengal comes crashing down around him when his mistress dies, leaving him with two children he never expected to have to raise. When he chooses justice over army regulations, he’s forced to resign his position, leaving him with no way to support his unexpected family. He’s already had enough failures in his life. The last thing he needs is an attractive, interfering woman bedeviling his steps, reminding him of his duties.

All widowed Clare Armbruster needs is her brother’s signature on a legal document to be free of her past. After a failed marriage, and still mourning the loss of a child, she’s had it up to her ears with the assumptions she doesn’t know how to take care of herself, that what she needs is a husband. She certainly doesn’t need a great lout of a captain who can’t figure out what to do with his daughters. If only the frightened little girls didn’t need her help so badly.

Clare has made mistakes in the past. Can she trust Fred now? Can she trust herself? Captain Wheatly isn’t ashamed of his aristocratic heritage, but he doesn’t need his family and they’ve certainly never needed him. But with no more military career and two half-caste daughters to support, Fred must turn once more—as a failure—to the family he let down so often in the past. Can two hearts rise above past failures to forge a future together?

Find it here: https://smile.amazon.com/Reluctant-Wife-Children-Empire-Book-ebook/dp/B06XYRRR1R/

 

Caroline Warfield PhotoAbout Caroline Warfield

Traveler, poet, librarian, technology manager—Caroline Warfield has been many things (even a nun), but above all she is a romantic. Having retired to the urban wilds of eastern Pennsylvania, she reckons she is on at least her third act, happily working in an office surrounded by windows while she lets her characters lead her to adventures in England and the far-flung corners of the British Empire. She nudges them to explore the riskiest territory of all, the human heart.

Caroline is a RONE award winner with five star reviews from Readers’ Favorite, Night Owl Reviews, and InD’Tale and an Amazon best-seller. She is also a member of the writers’ co-operative, the Bluestocking Belles. With partners she manages and regularly writes for both The Teatime Tattler and History Imagined.

Website http://www.carolinewarfield.com/

Amazon Author http://www.amazon.com/Caroline-Warfield/e/B00N9PZZZS/

Goodreads http://bit.ly/1C5blTm

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/carolinewarfield7

Twitter @CaroWarfield

Email warfieldcaro@gmail.com

Want more?

Caroline Warfield Reluctant WifeExcerpt

The ballroom at Government House, Calcutta, 1835

Clare had stopped listening. A prickle of awareness drew her gaze to the entrance where another man entered. He stood well above average height, he radiated coiled strength, and her eyes found his auburn hair unerringly. Captain Wheatly had come. The rapid acceleration of her heart took her off guard. Why should I care that he’s here?

“Clare? The lieutenant asked you a question.”

Lieutenant? Clare blinked to clear her head, only to see Mrs. Davis’s icy glare turned on Captain Wheatly. “Is that your strange captain from the black neighborhood?” she demanded in a faux whisper.

The lieutenant’s avid curiosity added to Clare’s discomfort. “Is that Wheatly in a captain’s uniform? I thought they might demote him after the business with Cornell,” he volunteered.

Clare forced herself to turn to the lieutenant. “Cornell?” she asked to deflect Mrs. Davis’s questions.

“Collector at Dehrapur. Wheatly assaulted the man. Unprovoked, I heard,” the lieutenant answered.

She looked back, unable to stop herself. Merciful angels, he’s seen me. She watched the captain start toward them. At least Gleason could make introductions.

The lieutenant went on as though he had her full attention. “He was in line for promotion, the one that went to your brother instead. Philip posted over there right after it happened.”

Clare found it impossible to look away. The captain gave an ironic smile when he saw her watching. Mrs. Davis gave a sharp intake of breath when she realized Wheatly’s intent. “He’s coming here? Clare, I think I should warn you that a man who has been passed over as this one was—”

Before she could finish, Colonel Davis, who had been coming from the other direction, met the captain and greeted him with a smile. Clare couldn’t hear the words, but Captain Wheatly’s self-deprecating grin seemed to indicate at least a modicum of respect. The two men approached together.

“Captain Frederick Wheatly, may I present my wife, Mrs. Davis.” The captain bowed properly, and the colonel went on, “And our house guest, Miss Armbruster.”

This time the captain’s eyes held a distinct twinkle. “Miss Armbruster and I are acquainted. I met her when she visited her brother in Dehrapur.”

“Of course, of course! I should have remembered,” the colonel said jovially. He leaned toward Clare and winked. “He’s a catch, this one. Doesn’t like to boast of his connections, but earls and dukes lurk in his pedigree. His cousin stepped down from Under-Secretary for War and the Colonies just last year!”

Captain Wheatly looked discomfited by that revelation.

Gleason looked skeptical. “The Duke of Murnane?” he gasped.

Before anyone could answer, the small orchestra hired for the occasion began to play, and the captain cocked an eyebrow as if to ask a question.

“I think the captain wants a dance, Miss Armbruster. It’s your patriotic duty to see to the morale of the troops,” the colonel said coyly.

Captain Wheatly put out a gloved hand, and she put her equally gloved hand in his. Walking away from Gleason and the Davises, she admitted two things to herself. She was glad he came, and she planned to enjoy the dance.

Are you as ready as I am to keep reading? Grab it here: https://smile.amazon.com/Reluctant-Wife-Children-Empire-Book-ebook/dp/B06XYRRR1R/

Carolyn Warfield Release Day Promo

Tami Lund Headshot 2014

Tami Lund is an author, wine drinker, award winner, and supporter of her fellow authors. You should support them, too! Especially Caroline Warfield, because her books are wonderful and she’s a pretty cool person, too.

Tami Lund Talks Sexy Bad Co-Writing

It’s official. I love this co-writing gig.

My latest release, Sexy Bad Neighbor, was co-written with fellow (fabulous) author, Misti Murphy. It’s about an uptight woman and a laid back guy and a prank war that turns into a steamy affair. Oh yeah, and somewhere in the middle a goat wanders into their relationship, ensuring reviewers like this one add GIFs of adorable, bouncing, er, kids to their blogs.

Now, we’re writing the climax and subsequent happy ending to Sexy Bad Daddy, the second in the Sexy Bad Series. The dramatic ending (okay, our joking about the ending) has led us to brainstorm the beginning to book three, which we’ve dubbed Sexy Bad Boss. Unable to resist once we start talking about it, we’ve already started writing that one, too.

The part I like best about co-writing is that each chapter is a surprise, and usually spurs new ideas, which often take the storyline to a level we hadn’t expected going into it. I’ll finish a chapter and have an idea in my head of where I think we’ll go next. Then Misti will finish the next chapter and I’ll read it and think, oh yeah, this is even better than I planned. And then the book ends up involving a goat, and possibly… a duck. (Stay tuned for that one…)

While I love it, I will say, it isn’t necessarily easy. There’s definitely angst built into the process, and plenty of guilt. Misti and I live on opposite ends of the world, literally. She’s in Australia, I’m in the US. There’s an eighteen-hour time difference between us. Luckily, she’s a late-night writer and I’m an early-morning writer, so we manage to carve time for plenty of conversation as we go along on this journey. But I work a fulltime non-writing job as well, which is frustrating for both of us when we set deadlines for ourselves and something happens at the day job that keeps me from getting to my next chapter for a week at a time.

You also have to (in my opinion) either both be pansters or both be plotters. Misti and I are both pansters, although she’s probably more in the middle. I’m pretty sure there’s some sort of vague outline saved somewhere in our shared Dropbox folders. Not that I’ve ever looked at it. See my comment above about loving how the book ends up taking on a new life with each subsequent chapter. No outlines in my world, thank you very much.

You also should know your co-writer’s style and personality, before you commit to something like this. Yeah, yeah, this is a business deal, but if you can’t get along with your partner, the business is probably going to fizzle pretty quickly.

Misti and I met through our writing. I’ve read every single one of her books, and I’m pretty sure she’s read all of mine. She’s beta read for me; I edit for her. I have a healthy respect for her as an author, and as a person. I believe she deserves to be, and will be, a best selling author some day. Her books are that good.

Since I knew her style so well, I knew I could write along with it. So when she threw the idea of co-writing out to an online group we both belong to, I immediately raised my hand. I knew I could do it, knew we could do it together. Knew it would be a damn good book. Had no idea it would turn into a brand, and plans for a bunch more damn good books.

But hey, that’s okay. Because I love it. And it’s working. And it’s fun. And if you don’t know what I’m talking about, head on over to our Sexy Bad Lounge to have a look!

Oh yeah, and if you want to check out Sexy Bad Neighbor, here’s the Amazon link (it’s a KU title, if you’re a member): SEXY BAD NEIGHBOR.

Sexy couple

Tami Lund drinks wine, wins awards, and writes sexy bad romance. She also writes paranormal romance, even occasionally achieving ‘best seller’ status. Check out her website here: TAMI LUND