Hello fine readers! Along with being a new author and guest blogger (thanks, Delilah!) I’m a volunteer leader with Team Rubicon│Disasters Are Our Business, Veterans Are Our Passion(https://teamrubiconusa.org/)
I live in Western Montana. It’s beautiful, but that beauty comes with a price. This year, the Clark Fork River flooded several subdivisions in Missoula—a major flood, the kind not seen since the 1970s. Sandbags were needed—a lot of them, right now. Missoula is a wonderful, weird town and people are really helpful—sometimes too helpful. Without direction, volunteers sometimes cause more problems than they solve. So, at the request of the county, Team Rubicon stepped up and took charge of the sandbagging chaos. Over the course of two weeks, we directed over 2,100 volunteers and filled more than 112,000 sand bags with 1,967 tons of sand. Which is pretty incredible! But the most incredible part was the last day.
Every year, Missoula hosts a rugby tournament called Maggot Fest. This year, many of the teams decided to help the day before the tournament. They filled a lot of bags, in their own very special way. Ways we wouldn’t let anyone else use. So, now for your pleasure (and some shudders) I give you hot, sweaty rugby players!
(Photos by AM Scott, except overhead sandbag photo courtesy of K. Kirkbride)
Yes, I do have a book. Get your copy, FREE! If you like Firefly, I think you’ll like Lightwave: Clocker.
Freedom ticks away, one nanosecond at a time… When a bounty hunter closes in, Saree jumps on Lightwave Fold Transport, the only way out-system. But Lightwave’s crew might be a bigger threat. Can Saree hide her real identity as the only human Clocker? Or will the crew uncover her secret and turn her in for the reward?
Download here: https://dl.bookfunnel.com/uhu01itzno If you download my book, I will add your name to my infrequent mailing list; I don’t spam or sell your info and you can unsubscribe anytime. Clocker is the first of a space opera series, not an SF romance; while there are adult situations, there’s no erotic sex and the swear words are all made up. Enjoy and have a great summer!
The habit of writing everyday no matter what started for me around 2009 or 2010. I was invited to join a group. This group is named GIAM, which stands for Goals Inspiration Amity Motivation. Amy Atwell began the group to allow writers to form friendships and share like interests. This was before social media such as Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and all the others became so popular.
I joined the group in 2009 when Amy created a special loop called Writing GIAM 100×100 on Yahoo. I don’t know how many of us started with the group. I do know there are currently six of us still there writing our little hearts out.
We have become friends. The type of friends that you can rant, vent, cry, and laugh with. It might be virtual, but we’ve grown close. We’re scattered over the United States with one in Canada. But we are next door friends.
These women shared the trial of living with my sister during my husband’s serious illnesses, the heart break of losing him after almost forty-one years. At first the lady that handled our loop, JoAnn Banker, would send out certificates each time one of us crossed that 100 straight days mark. Then at the end of a full year of writing we received a bottle of champagne. I received mine in 2012.
We have all fallen off the loop at one time or another for whatever reason. We didn’t make our 100 words that day. Some of us had surgeries, some had personal things, that toppled us off the bus. That’s what we are. A bus full of friends writing along posting our word counts some every day others every couple of days. We get back on the bus and keep riding.
I was at year five moving towards year six when I had knee surgery. I wrote words the night before the surgery for Monday when I was having it. Then faithfully I wrote every night on my smart phone, I wasn’t smart enough to download MS Office and Dropbox to the phone. I used the memo app to write and I counted each word to make sure I had 100 words. It worked great until Friday night after the surgery on Monday. I was sent to a nursing home for rehab and it was about fifty or sixty miles from where I lived. I was angry, and the anger boiled over when the computer I brought wouldn’t turn on.
So, I blew off five years of not missing a day. Now, I’m back up to year three writing my way towards year four. There are four that are on year one, one that is on year six and myself on year three.
I’ve heard people say they can’t write every day. I work full time, no kiddos except for a four footed one called Precious, but I did it even the nights my husband went to the hospital and yes the night he died. I was already writing that day trying to make NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) for 2011. I didn’t make the 50k for NaNo but I did make my 100 words.
I have another friend that’s written over three thousand days without missing a day. She’s not on our loop, but she’s determined too. Her determination paid off with a traditional publishing contract when she pitched her books.
Now, these days have given me several different stories some complete others incomplete. Still I keep typing at least 100 words every day.
Yes, life gets in the way. You dig out your grit and determination and start over. Or you can sit there and say I can’t. My mother always told me, “Can’t never could do anything.” I guess my brain absorbed it and made it my mantra deep inside.
When I was little they called me stubborn, now it’s called being strong because of certain things I’ve done these past few years.
I hope that you find your path and that if you have your path already you will reach out to someone who maybe needs a little help finding theirs.
Next week, the fourth book in the Montana Bounty Hunters series hits Amazon! Cochise is more of what readers have been loving—a hot as hell bounty hunter who doesn’t like rules, a strong heroine worthy of our hero, and an action-packed story! Oh, and there are plenty of sexy times, too! Read the opening of the story below. Then be sure to catch up on books one through three! Get ready for a wild ride!
Former Army sniper, Cochise Mercier, left Denver SWAT under a cloud of controversy, which was why he ended up back home in Montana, and where he heard about the Montana Bounty Hunters. The “cloud” didn’t seem to bother his new boss, so he’s all in and finding he enjoys hunting down fugitives for bounties, encumbered by fewer rules.
Sammy McCallister is a by-the-book sheriff’s deputy, who has a beef with bounty hunters. Forced to stand by with her gun in her holster, while hunters take down scumbags, she’s particularly irked by the new guy in town. Cochise, with his long black hair and thousand-yard-stare makes her uncomfortable, itchy in ways she’s never felt before. When she finds herself needing his help, the reason for her irritation becomes all too clear. She wants him. But first, they have to make it out of the mountains alive…
Cochise Mercier, the new hire at Montana Bounty Hunters, took a deep breath to force his heart to slow its pace. A trick he’d learned as an Army sniper to make sure a jerking breath didn’t mess up a shot. The trick worked in most situations when he needed his mind to slow and for his focus to home in on a target or a situation. Clearing his mind meant he was able to take in more of what was happening around him and enabled him to discard the things that weren’t important—like the way the wind beat a tree branch against the side of the house, a steady thump that sounded almost like clomping footsteps. Instead, he concentrated on the way the light, beaming through the tall arched windows at the front of the house, flickered whenever his target paced left or right, telling him where their mark was. An important fact, because in seconds, he’d have to breach the oak front door and be ready to take him down—with his weapon or his body, depending on whether Randy Pinter was armed. A fact Cochise would have to ascertain in a split second.
“Can’t see any movement in the back rooms,” came Jamie Burke’s voice through his earpiece. “I think he’s alone.”
He still wasn’t used to hearing a woman’s voice on the comms. He’d never had a female as part of any of his missions on the ground with the Army, and Denver’s SWAT had, at the time, been all male. That voice interrupted his calm. His instinct was to protect women and children, but she was a part of this team—and his boss—so again, he drew a deep breath, pushed aside his concern, and concentrated on his target. Pinter was pacing in front of the window to the right of the front door.
“Girlfriend’s car isn’t in the garage,” came Sky Reynold’s deep voice. “Must have gone for takeout. I’m moving around to the front.”
“Deputies just arrived,” Lacey Jones’s too perky voice sounded. “I’ll go brief them about what’s about to go down. Make sure they know we have the owner’s permission to be here.”
Cochise could hear the excitement in her higher pitch. Thank God, she was back at the road with the vehicles. The thought of her cotton-candy sweetness being anywhere near Pinter made him shudder. The girl might have qualified with her weapon and might be doing well with her self-defense classes, but she had no real experience going head-on with bad dudes. He didn’t want to be around the first time she was truly tested.
“You call it, Cochise,” Jamie said.
With his heart as slow as when he slept, he felt the familiar ice-water chill flow over him. “Ready,” he whispered and then stepped away from the bushes beside the porch. “Moving toward the door… On three. One…two…three.”
He pounded three times on the door. “Federal Recovery Agent! Get down on the floor!”
Then, just as they’d rehearsed, Sky popped up, used a short cudgel to break the right front window, and tossed a flashbang grenade through the opening he’d made.
Cochise turned his back and crouched beside the door. A split second later, he heard the explosion and a muffled shout. He stood and swung the battering ram against the thick front door. The frame around the door splintered. He tossed the ram and kicked the thick oak, waiting as it slammed forward against dark wood flooring. Then pulling his weapon from its holster, he stepped onto the door into the foyer.
Inside, he saw no sign of Pinter. “Not in foyer. Moving to living room.”
“I’m coming your way,” Jamie said, and then a moment later, “Mudroom, clear. I’ll check the garage.”
Sky stepped to the right. “I’ll take the kitchen.”
Cochise headed through the living room. “Living room clear.” Then he moved toward the room farther to the left—a study he’d peered inside earlier. He shoved open the door, stepped to the side, then quickly darted through the opening, bending low as he entered. He glanced behind a sofa, opened the closet. “Clear.”
“Clear in the kitchen,” said Sky. “Moving toward the stairs.”
Cochise cleared the downstairs bathroom, another hallway closet, and then ran up the stairs. Just as he reached the darkened landing, he saw Sky back out of a bedroom and shake his head. Cochise signaled that he’d head right toward what he suspected was the master bedroom, while Sky took a smaller bedroom at the other end of the hallway. Cochise unclipped his Maglite from his web belt and shone it down the darkened hallway.
“Garage clear,” Jamie said.
“Make sure the bastard didn’t circle around to the backyard.” Lacey and Dagger had the road and yard fence line covered, and both were quiet.
Just as he reached out to turn the door handle for the master bedroom, Sky whispered, “Clear.” Cochise tensed. Last possible place.
Pinter must have shot up the steps the second the window was broken. Slippery bastard. Something they’d learned talking to the cops who’d arrested him for a home invasion. The fact the judge had awarded him bail after he’d led the police on a three-mile foot race through backyards, over fences, and through busy intersections, where he’d nearly lost the cops, had the entire team shaking their heads. The $500,000 bail must have seemed an impossible goal for a two-time loser, but the prosecutor hadn’t looked closely enough at the family to raise an argument. They hadn’t known the grandfather doted on the prick. He’d willingly used his ranch to secure the bond.
Why Pinter had chosen a life of crime was beyond Cochise. He came from money, dated money, and now, he was facing decades in jail after beating up a couple he’d robbed at gunpoint for a measly sixty dollars and a wedding ring.
Sky came up beside him, a shotgun loaded with beanbag rounds raised, with the stock against his shoulder, and cupping a flashlight against the barrel. He gave Cochise a nod.
Cochise quietly turned the knob then shoved it open. Sky preceded him through the door, turning his body to the left then the right.
Cochise went to the bed and flipped the mattress off the frame. Nobody huddled under it. He quietly slid open the nightstand drawer, the place where Mr. Anderson said he kept a handgun. Shining the light inside the drawer, Cochise noted it was empty, except for a bag of cough drops and loose change. Catching Sky’s glance, he shook his head.
He moved to the bathroom door while Sky sped to the walk-in closet.
As he turned the handle, he heard the scuff of a foot and froze. Withdrawing his hand, he signaled to Sky, who quickly edged to the opposite side of the door.
Pinter had plenty of warning they were there. He had no place left to hide. Likely had the gun. Cochise’s best route would be to get him to surrender.
“Randy,” Cochise called out, “you’re not getting out of this house. We’re bounty hunters, and we’ve been tracking you for days. A whole goddamn team to take down your sorry ass. We have deputies in the road out front in case you decide to be stupid. You’re not going to be stupid, are you?”
Sky moved a step backward. “We think we have him cornered in the upstairs bathroom,” he whispered to the team. “Get eyes on the side of the house beneath the window.”
“Already there,” Dagger said.
Sky moved closer.
“Buddy,” Cochise said, keeping an even tone. “Your best move is to come out with your hands up where we can see them.”
Ten seconds passed. Not a sound came from behind the closed door.
Again, Cochise reached out and gripped the knob. It was locked. Stepping in front of the door, he raised a foot.
But he heard a click and pitched to the side. An explosion ripped through the door.
On his back on the floor, Cochise stared at a circle with splintered edges right where he’d been standing a second earlier. He rolled to his feet, his weapon aimed at the hole.
“What the fuck?” Jamie shouted in his ear. “Coming up the stairs.”
“Deputies are running for the house,” Lacey said sounding breathless, like she was running, too.
In the distance, he heard several sets of footsteps stomping quickly up the stairs. No way was he letting the women anywhere near this vicious pig. He aimed at the door. “Better get on the ground, Pinter.” Then he fired two shots, just to make sure the dirtbag was taking cover, and kicked in the door.
Inside the room, he made out the glint of metal coming from around the side of the shower stall. He ducked into the stall as a shot fired. Then he darted out again, reaching out his left hand as the handgun appeared around the corner. With his back to Pinter, he gripped the weapon, shoving it, and the hand that held it, to the side. A shot hit the toilet, shattering porcelain. Water spilled out onto the floor.
A punch landed against his ribs, knocking the breath from his lungs, but Cochise didn’t let go of the gun, he spun and shoved the hand holding the gun against the edge of the stall.
The gun clattered away.
More punches hit his sides—much good that did, because his Kevlar vest took the blows—but Cochise couldn’t end this while all he held was Pinter’s hand. He jerked Pinter forward then backed him into the shower stall, crushing him against the tile with his body, unable to turn because he still held his own weapon outstretched. With his elbow, he beat backwards, catching Pinter in his sides.
Searing pain in the corner of his shoulder sucked away what was left of his breath. “Motherfucker, did you bite me?”
He beat back his elbow and aimed a backward kick at a knee.
The lights to the bathroom flashed on.
Sky filled the doorway, his glance taking in the gun on the floor. He moved forward and reached out. Gladly, Cochise gave him his weapon, and then turned and pummeled Pinter, clipping him in the jaw, the ribs, then giving him another punch to the jaw.
As Randy Pinter sagged toward the gray stone floor of the shower, Cochise kept his fists balled. But Pinter’s eyelids lowered, and his jaw relaxed.
A clap against his shoulder made him wince. “Think we have him,” Sky said.
Cochise lowered his eyebrows. “We?”
Sky grinned. “Hey, I freed your hand.”
“Fucker.”
“Tell me that wasn’t satisfying.”
Cochise grunted.
Just then, Jamie rounded the corner, two deputies crowding in behind her. One tall, burly male and a female with scraped back hair and angry eyes.
Suddenly, the spacious bathroom was too crowded.
“Do we have to call an ambulance?” Jamie asked.
Sky leaned over Pinter and ran his hands over his body, doing a quick search for weapons. When he straightened, he aimed a kick at his hip.
Pinter stirred and moaned.
“Nope, he’s conscious,” Sky said, his mouth curving into a smirk. “Jail’s just fifteen minutes away. They can take him to the ER to be checked out.”
Cochise bent and rested his hands on his knees, dragging in deep breaths to clear his head of the anger still pounding through him.
Jamie came up beside him and plucked at the neck of his tee. “Too bad he didn’t get a mouthful of Kevlar. That has to hurt. Buddy, you might need stiches. Sky and I will make sure this one gets to jail. Your vehicle’s still back at the office; I can have Lacey take you to the ER.”
Cochise straightened, inwardly cursing the fact his truck was back at the agency parking lot. He’d ridden with Sky and Jamie on the way over.
“I’d love to,” Lacey said, her blonde head peering around the corner, “but I can’t wait on you. Dagger and I have to drive to Whitefish to meet up with Reaper. He texted that he’s found Wallace’s hideout.” She gave a hundred-watt smile. “We’re riding into the mountains on horseback.”
Jamie groaned. “Good Lord. Last time Reaper was on horseback, he nearly drowned in a stock pond.”
“You can drop me at my truck. I can get myself to the ER,” Cochise said, and warmed to the idea. Anything to avoid listening to Dagger give Bounty Hunter Barbie another long lesson about how not to get killed doing her job. “You two need to get on the road, or you won’t get any rest.”
A throat cleared to his right. The female deputy’s frown was fierce, but she lifted her chin. “I can drop you, but I won’t wait around.”
He nodded. From her expression, she was about as thrilled with the idea as he was. She’d dump him at the entrance, and he’d be on his own. The way he liked it. “Suits me fine. And I appreciate it.”
Nothing in Margo Simmons’s life comes easy. She can’t claim the inheritance on a condo apartment her uncle has left to her until she is gainfully employed in a job for a year. She meets the man of her dreams but anguishes over a loving relationship because he is still emotionally tied to his deceased wife. With great difficulty, she becomes the guardian to a recently orphaned child she had been tutoring. Margo evolves from an insecure, newbie elementary teacher into a woman determined to fulfill the secret desires locked in her heart. My story speaks to anyone who has suffered a loss and had to start over.
I’m so pleased to report that the Audible.com version of my romance will happen between June and July. Readers commuting to work or just relaxing with my book, will be able to listen to my love story, which, by the way, was inspired by a true story.
Thank you, Delilah, for this wonderful opportunity to tell romance readers about my book.
Conner Udine is a prince and a hero all rolled into one. And Olivia had a slight crush on her brother’s best friend when he was at her family’s over for dinner. She never said a word. And unlike her sister Scarlett, Olivia is unassuming and would rather read a book than admit to her real feelings. She’s the youngest Hawke sibling and honestly she blogs about books for a living. Could she do more? Yes, but her shyness really holds her back.
Conner needs to be in his kingdom so to protect Olivia he flies her to his European kingdom and sets her up in the castle. But when Scarlett and Gabe say Maddox was arrested, they both thought the threat was over. Olivia goes out to explore.
Conner is faced with a decision as there is some ancient law that he must marry and his father needs him to marry sooner rather than later. But in showing the sweet Olivia around, he starts wondering if she’ll be the perfect bride. However this small bliss is threatened when someone starts trying to kill Olivia and Conner needs to protect her. As Maddox is in jail it can’t be him, but the threat against the Hawkes continues.
Tempting Conner
One sweet, unassuming book blogger targeted by an assassin. One handsome prince sworn to protect her. These two have nothing in common, except undeniable chemistry.
Prince Conner Udine is a man of honor. When he promised his best friend and former Marine buddy that he’d protect his sister, he never imagined that it would lead to a lifetime commitment. When a sixteenth century law resurfaces, his life plan takes a drastic turn, and now he has to marry before his thirtieth birthday.
Olivia Hawke liked Conner from the first moment she saw him, but she never revealed that to him. Now, he’s her protector, and she has to live in his castle.
As if that’s not awkward enough, he’s just revealed that he has to marry, and fast.
Will she agree to give him her hand and finally get the happily-ever-after she’s always dreamed of?
I’ve been writing for a while. I have numerous series, standalone titles, and short stories. If you’ve never read or barely read me, I can keep you busy for a while! 🙂
One of my first series, that’s still ongoing, is my Night Fall series. It’s near and dear to my heart. And there are 14 stories in the series, so far. The last title I released was Big Bad Wolf, which I adored. What wasn’t to love? A rugged, backwoods wolf with no love for vampires. A vampire with every reason to hate wolves… Of course, they had to fall in love. And there will be more stories. So, dive in. None of them are terribly long. You can consume them like candy. I dare you to give them a try…
Comment for a chance to win your choice of download from among the stories shown below! I’ll pick three winners!
Click on the covers to learn more about the stories!
Big Bad Wolf
Ginnie Martin is a badass. She was born that way one horror-filled night. Forged in blood—her own and her family’s. All were ravaged by savage beasts. Her vampire savior recruited her to fight with his small army against the creatures responsible for her devastating loss. But now, he’s asking too damn much. He wants her to open her home to new allies who, until only recently, were their fiercest foes. Wolves.
Calum Fletcher already bristles against providing muscle to a vampire force. Content living in his remote mountain cabin, he’s never been much for mixing with other wolves, much less making nice with vampires. He was already having a hard time dealing, but the woman letting him bunk in her home wears an even larger chip on her shoulder. Quickly, his new favorite sport is goading her into losing her temper—because everyone knows a vampire’s bloodlust leads to very sexy places…
Read an excerpt…
The moment Calum Fletcher stepped into The Cavern, his body quickened. The heavy thud of his heart pounded at his temples. His skin prickled. Above the scent of booze and sex, he noted the musty, metallic odor of blood, and his stomach churned. Every instinct shouted danger.
Striding past the brawny, dull bouncer at the door, he kept moving, needing to draw calm around him before his nature was revealed. Although the vampires had been warned of his pack’s arrival in Seattle, he preferred to cloak himself in humanskin, free of wolf scent. The better to study the enemies he’d now be aligning with in war.
Dance music beat against his body. Bright, strobing lights pierced his eyes. Turning from the dance floor, he moved toward the bar, ignoring the activities of the patrons—the feasting, the fucking. Everywhere, except at the bar, an orgy of bloodlust and sexual excess was in progress.
The blonde behind the bar gave him quick, assessing glance. Her green eyes narrowed. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, all the while continuing to watch him as though she expected trouble.
“A beer.”
“No preference?”
He shook his head, wanting to look away, but he was studying her as well. The blonde, uneven cut that barely reached to her chin looked wind-tousled. Her pale unpainted cheeks were as smooth as porcelain. Her mouth was bowed but held in a tight, firm line. Below, her figure was lean and muscled with only a slight flare of hips and a meager bosom.
And then he viewed her clothing—a black, form-fitting tank and faded blue jeans with ragged holes over both knees, stuffed into square-toed black boots. Harsh, dark. Echoing the look in the eyes.
Vampire, he concluded. Had she already guessed his true nature?
She placed the beer on a cardboard coaster in front of him. “Haven’t seen you here before,” she said, her voice soft, but with a hint of an edge.
“I’m from out of town.” Out of state, actually, but he didn’t elaborate.
“How did you find this place?”
He gave a shrug then met her gaze, locking with it. “I was walking along the docks. Heard the music.”
She frowned. “And once you came inside…?”
Her tone clued him she was angling to hear what he thought of what was going on. A human who ventured inside by accident should be shocked. So, she hadn’t made him.
He held still. Barely breathed. If she knew he wasn’t a willing “host,” someone who understood the rules of the blood exchange, what would she do? His curiosity was piqued by her deepening frown and downturned mouth. Was she considering giving him a “friendly” warning?
Calum broke with her gaze and glanced at the dance floor. Most pairs danced, bodies moving in a wild fervor. A few barely swayed while hosts’ necks bent and vamps’ mouths worked, teeth and tongues biting and licking. He barely repressed a shudder. Worse, his gums tingled. When he turned back, he didn’t bother hiding a frown.
She reached out a hand and cupped the back of his wrapped around the beer. “Are you curious?” she asked, her voice thicker than before and lisping.
Curious about her, yes. Which should have alarmed him. But she wasn’t flirting and wasn’t attempting to use her vampire’s tricks to seduce him. Her gaze was direct. A straightforward challenge.
And although he wasn’t there to play, he did have time to satisfy his curiosity. The rest of his pack would be arriving soon enough. He’d pushed ahead of the convoy while they’d stopped for a meal. He gave a slight nod.
Her chest rose, and she lifted a hand to signal to a waitress, who made her way behind the far end of the long wooden bar. Then the blonde lifted the hinged, vertical opening in the bar and stepped through to join him.
Standing next to him, she had to raise her head to meet his gaze, something that appeared to irritate her, because a frown dug a line between her brows. “Bring your beer.” She stepped past him, skirting the dance floor and moving toward a row of leather-upholstered booths at the opposite side of the room, lit only by candles set in decorative glass bowls.
He followed, beer in hand, then slid into the booth she indicated.
Rather than taking a seat opposite him, she slid in beside him and turned, raising one knee to the seat. Her gaze went to his beard then trailed over his chest and below, before slowly rising again to his face. “I’m Ginnie,” she said, her voice huskier than before.
He noted the sharpened tips of her corner canines, peeking from beneath her upper lip. “Calum,” he said, his own voice deepening. His breathing was coming faster, sitting this close to her, drinking in her sweet-almond scent, which should have acted like repellent. But almond blended with a slight hint of vanilla and her feminine musk, and now moisture gathered in his mouth. He wanted a taste.
His mouth twitched and, inside, he laughed at himself for his attraction. How long had passed since he’d fucked a woman? Now, he wished he’d come better prepared. Vampires were naturally sensual creatures. That was all this lust was. He was growing aroused because she was what she was, and he’d been without for far too long.
Thank you, Delilah, for inviting me to hang out with your readers today!
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. And Jill a dull girl. Along those same lines, a common thread in writerly conversations is the need to step away from our computers/notebooks/scrolls and refill the creative well. Getting out of our chairs is good for our physical health. And getting out of our writing cave benefits our mental health. Plus, it’s nice to feel the sun on our cheeks and breath outdoor air.
I know many of my fellow scribes are introverts and would be perfectly happy to be hermits all day, every day. I go for days seeing only my hubby, and I’m fine with that. But there’s a whole wide world outside my walls and it behoves me to enjoy as much of it as I can while I’m able.
To that end, hubby and I dusted off our bicycles the other day and went for a ride. Not far from our house lies a former railroad that has been converted to a walking/biking rail. Lined with trees, shrubs, and flowers, away from vehicular traffic, and without steep hills, it’s a lovely way to bike into town. Or from one town to the next if you’re feeling energetic. Did I mention no steep hills? Because trains needed fairly level terrain, us middle-aged bicyclists benefit now that the rails are torn up.
(As an aside, I wish we had better train service in this part of the world [NS, Canada] like a lot of other developed nations do.)
Our recent trip, the first of the season, was a brief expedition to check out our machines and to limber disused muscles. We encountered a few other bicyclists and a few walkers, including a couple visiting our fair town from Nottingham, UK! We had a lovely chat on the trail and shared the location of a pair of deer we’d seen.
Here are a few pictures I took along the trail:
The larger of the two deer, along with a herd of cattle who quickly became bored with our presence. The lupines are starting to bloom and I revel in the many shades of blue and purple they display. Finally, one of our neighbours welcomed us home.
After a few hours in the saddle I returned to my writing cave refreshed in body and spirit. And eager for our next outing, which will include a picnic lunch and an ice cream at our destination.
To my fellow writers, what do you do to get away from the story mill and experience the wide world?
And to my fellow readers, if you were presented with an entire day free from obligations, how would you spend your time?
Love & Mayhem
Sybil is happily on the shelf, tending to her sheep. But she fears she’ll depart this life without experiencing physical love, which she suspects is rather enjoyable. When her long-lost fiancé returns from sea, she decides he’s the lucky man who’ll receive her virginity.
Max is eager to return to his sugar plantation and has no intention of remaining long in London. However, he didn’t bargain on a wilful, pretty, exasperating spinster determined to take him to her bed.
He insists on marriage but she wants only his body. Her heart is not part of the deal. Unfortunately, love doesn’t always follow the rules.
“I see all sorts of advantages to the married state.” He brought her hand to his mouth, kissing each knuckle in turn before kissing her palm. Then he flicked his tongue over the inside of her wrist. She bit back a moan. Who knew the wrist was such a sensitive spot?
She forced her mind back to the task at hand. Which, when you came to think of it, served the other task as well. Namely, getting him to flick his tongue on other sensitive parts of her body. She took a deep breath. “Some enjoy those advantages without the bother of a marriage ceremony.”
Luanna Stewart has been creating adventures for her imaginary friends since childhood. As soon as she discovered her grandmother’s stash of romance novels, all plots had to lead to a happily-ever-after.
Luanna writes full time, concentrating on sexy romantic suspense, steamy paranormal romance, and spicy historical romance.
Born and raised in Nova Scotia, Luanna has recently returned to the land of her birth with her dear husband and two spoiled cats. When she’s not torturing her heroes and heroines, she’s in her kitchen baking something delicious.
Under her previous pen name of Grace Hood she has two novellas published with The Wild Rose Press.
