When author Christa Maurice told me she was organizing a post featuring romances with furry friends, I knew I had to jump on board. After all, I’m a big fan of furbabies. Have I introduced you to my cat, Sweetie? Sweetie is my little fur girl. We rescued her from the pound when she was […]
“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—
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.
Want it? Click the title below:
Tami Lund drinks wine, wins awards, and writes sexy bad books. Check out her website here: http://tamilund.com
This is a gift for everyone:
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
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.
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!
Guess what? My novella, MIRROR, MIRROR, is in the first round of voting for the Rone Awards! How did that happen? Well…
- One of the reviewers at InD’Tale Magazine really liked it. Here’s what she had to say:
What a fun, light-hearted quickie of a romance! Coming in at only 128 pages, it surprisingly doesn’t feel incomplete! The set-up is perfect for a novella-length story and the pacing is superbly executed to allow the story to be complete without short-changing the understanding behind the characters. The Grandma/ghost aspect was a bit confusing and the bawdy humor seemed forced at times but overall, it was a thoroughly enjoyable escape that will delight anyone in need of a giggle and a sigh after a long, hard day!
- She liked it so much, she recommended it be added to the Rone Award competition.
- Now, readers get to choose which books go on to the final round. Final round is reviewers again, and they have to select one winner, which will be announced in October at the InD’Scribe Conference.
- This is where you come in. I need your vote, so I can move on to the final round! Voting ends TOMORROW (April 23) so hurry!!
Here’s what you do:
- Go here: IND’TALE WEBSITE
- Register, if you haven’t already. It’s easy and there’s no obligation (although they do have a pretty cool monthly e-magazine, if you’re interested.)
- Go to week 1 of the 2017 Rone Awards. (upper right corner of the website)
- Go to the ‘Novella’ category. (first category)
- It’s alphabetical by book title – so scroll down to M – there’s Mirror, Mirror by Tami Lund
- P.S. – since this category is so big, you can vote for two books, so if you see another on the list you like, go ahead and do it!
- Receive my eternal gratitude!
Want to know what you’re voting for?
Okay, here’s the deal: Adelle was jilted at the altar, so she’s sworn off love. While at a friend’s wedding, she ends up visiting an old gypsy woman who claims Adelle can see her future husband in an enchanted mirror.
Yeah, right. Adelle doesn’t believe in hocus pocus, nor does she believe her hottie best friend, Ben, is anything but a platonic roommate. Even if she did see his image in the mirror. Even if she can’t stop thinking about the old lady’s words–or her bestie in a highly inappropriate way.
Here’s a sampling of what Vivienne, the old Gypsy woman, is like:
…The woman who, by Adelle’s judgment, looked to be approximately a thousand years old. Her face was heavily lined, her cheeks sagged, her nose was crooked. She wore a brightly colored scarf on her head, wispy gray hairs sticking out from under the silky material. Her body was covered with the same type of peasant shirt and billowing skirt that Adelle wore, except it was uncomfortably obvious she wasn’t wearing a cleavage-enhancing bra, because her breasts hung somewhere in the vicinity of her knees.
“Quit staring at me, girl. You’ll look like this someday, too, if you’re lucky.”
“Lucky,” the woman said, as if Adelle had repeated the word out loud. “You wanna know how many hunks I had in my day? There’s a reason I look so worn out.”
As kooky and cranky as Vivienne is, she’s damned perceptive, too:
“W-what do you want?” she asked, hating the way her voice cracked with her nervousness.
“Peace, love, and happiness,” the woman retorted. “But I’d settle for a romp with your date. He’s single, isn’t he?”
“Ben?” Adelle said in surprise. “No offense, but I don’t think you’re his type.”
“Why do people start offensive phrases with the words ‘no offense’?”
The old woman waved a veined, wrinkled hand over the candle flame. The rings she wore on every finger and her thumb glittered in the light, gold bangle bracelets clinking gently on her arm.
“Well, who do you think is his type?” the woman asked.
Adelle furrowed her brow, confused by the woman’s question.
“What’s so damn difficult about my question, girl? You know him, don’t you? He’s your best friend, so you say. If that’s the case, then you ought to know what he likes in a woman. You’ve known him for ten years. That’s almost a third of your lifetime. Answer me,” she snapped.
“I, uh, I…” Adelle stuttered over an answer. How did this obnoxious old woman know anything at all about her and Ben’s friendship? Nicole must have filled her in while she was getting her own fortune read.
Taking a deep breath, she said, “He likes good-looking girls. Blondes, it seems.”
The old woman cocked her head to the side and gave her a considering look. “Well, that puts me out of the running, I suppose. Although a box of ‘golden platinum’ could remedy that easily enough. What else? That boy can’t be so superficial that looks alone would win his heart.”
Yes, this novella is full of humor, a few sexy moments, and a heartwarming happily ever after. It’s the perfect read for a rainy afternoon or anytime, really. And if you vote, it just might become an award winning book!
THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!
Tami Lund writes romance novels, drinks wine, and sometimes wins awards. But only if you vote! Check out the rest of her books here: www.tamilund.com
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.
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
Three books in three months – never again
For 2017 I set some very lofty goals which included publishing books in January, February, and March.
I’ll never do that again!
I believe I write fairly fast, and now that my Dragon is trained, I write even faster. But this was crazy. January’s novella, Double Jeopardy, was written in December in between a week-long family vacation and the Christmas holidays. Being a novella, I can usually knock out 30,000 words in about fifteen days if I write every day. In December, there was no way I could write every day and still remain married and in the good graces of my adult children. (Someday the latter are going to pick my rest home.)
Before Double Jeopardy was published, I had moved on to deep rewrites of the first novel I ever published. Uncaged Love was published in February as the second full-length novel in my Black Swan series.
Rescuing Melina will be available for sale on March 21. I am so thrilled to be able to write in Susan Stoker’s Special Forces: Operation Alpha Kindle World.
It’s been a crazy first quarter of 2017 and the second quarter looks to be almost as ridiculously busy.
Coming up next, look for the prequel to the Black Swan series. Although it will be out within the next sixty days, it doesn’t have a name or a cover yet. It will be given away FREE to everyone on my newsletter list, so if you aren’t there yet, please sign up here for my newsletter.
I have committed to writing a novella, once again part of the Guardian Elite series, in Elle James’ Kindle World. Also yet to be named, that book sits it second place in the queue because it will publish in June.
Before the end of the year, Black Swan Book #3 will be out as Grace and Griffin find themselves on the road to love. I guarantee there will be potholes and wrong turns. You will also see the final book in the Cancun series. It’s about time Levi met his match.
That’s a lot of writing in the next nine months. Perhaps I should just claim 2017 as my year of insanity.
How is your year going? Leave me a comment and some lucky winner will receive a surprise.
The husband’s birthday is next month. The big 5-0. Seems pretty significant, right? Like I should plan something big, right? A few months ago, he even hinted that he’d like to go to Vegas for his birthday, because that’s what you do when you turn fifty.
So I looked into Vegas, even though neither of us are gamblers. But there’s lots of other stuff to do there, right? I’ve never been, but he has, and he’s always had a good time. I even went so far as to send out a message to our closest friends, see if anyone wanted to join us.
Then a couple of those friends suggested doing something more … up my husband’s alley. He’s a huge history buff and a beer connoisseur, so I thought about Boston. Aside from spending far more than we can afford to fly to Germany, I can’t think of a better place that combines those two loves. And if we figure out how to get passports so we can drive through Canada to get there, it’s only about a ten-hour drive from Detroit, saving us airfare and a rental car fee while we’re there. Considering we make an annual trip between Detroit and Dallas, ten hours is a walk in the park.
I also toyed with heading to Napa Valley, which is where we spent our honeymoon and our tenth anniversary, and from where we purchase and consume relatively large quantities of wine.
And then earlier today he informed me he didn’t want me to do anything special, aside from dinner at a nice restaurant, for his birthday.
I’m not sure how to take this. I feel like he’ll be disappointed if I *only* do dinner. I mean, it’s FIFTY. That’s significant, isn’t it? I’m not sure why, to be honest, but it feels like it should be. Maybe because he’s halfway to being a centennial? Although I personally don’t think that’s something to celebrate, but then again, I desperately don’t want to get old, so I’m not the person to ask.
Anyway, what should I do? Should I plan something anyway? Adhere to his wishes? Figure out something in between? If so, what the heck is in between?
Got some ideas for me? I’d luuuuuv to hear them. Seriously. I need *something*. I have about seven weeks to figure this out…
Tami Lund is an author, wine drinker, lover of happily ever afters and her husband. And she really wants to do something special for his birthday, but she’s never been very good at getting this whole gift giving thing right…