Vivian Arend's Blog, page 25

Travel Pictures: National Monument

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It’s Wednesday and that means it’s time to share another picture from Vivian’s endless travel adventures.

First Line Friday: Let It Ride

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Do you love books about a widower who gets a second chance at love, with a man who is one of her best friends? Then be sure to pick up LET IT RIDE!

Chapter One

November, Rocky Mountain House

Outside the window, enormous snowflakes were snatched by the rising wind and slammed against the pane, leaving a white barrier clinging to the corners. It was pretty, but prettier still because inside the auto shop where she stood it was warm, the scent of rubber and oil strangely cathartic. Combined with the masculine voices in the background, Maggie was at peace and relaxed.

It was a good way to start her holiday.

She turned from the window as the sound of laughter, deep and familiar, rumbled over her. Her husband Cameron stood next to Clay Thompson, the two of them grinning over some shared joke.

Rocky Mountain House had been home years ago. She had so many good memories of growing up in the small town that when her family had moved to Montana after she graduated, she’d always intended to return some day. Coming back to make a home with Cameron in the foothills of the Alberta Rocky Mountains seemed right.

Clay Thompson had been around back then, although never more than a friend. At one point she’d thought maybe they were ready to head down a different road, but life had changed, and they’d grown apart instead of together. Yet as she admired the two solid examples of manhood before her, there was nothing but contentment in her soul.

Her husband dragged a hand through his blond hair as he spoke, biceps flexing under the sturdy cotton shirt he wore. Clay leaned back on the counter behind him, folding rock-solid arms in front of him as he looked down from his massive height, changing the topic as Maggie approached. “You guys should probably hit the road. The weather’s not getting any better.”

Maggie slipped her hands around Cameron’s arm, smiling up at Clay. “As soon as we’re past Airdrie, the roads should be clear.”

“And there’s no way I’m going to miss my mother-in-law’s cooking. It’s worth however long the drive,” Cameron said.

“You just want a second Thanksgiving dinner,” Clay taunted.

“You know it,” Cameron agreed. “Best thing that ever happened, marrying someone with family in Montana.”

Maggie squeezed his arm before releasing him so he could pull on his thick winter coat. “Clay’s right—we’d better get going.”

“Your car is completely checked over,” Clay assured her.

“He put in extra hours to get us ready on time,” Cameron shared before accepting Clay’s hand and shaking it firmly. “Appreciate it. The next time we play pool, drinks are on me.”

Clay chuckled. “Drinks are always on you since the loser buys.”

The two guys scuffled for a moment, pounding each other on the back the way guys do as Maggie looked on with amusement.

Then Clay offered her a hug, and she stepped into his arms and squeezed him tight. “Tell your sister I’ll be in touch once we get back in a week,” she reminded him.

“Katy will be waiting,” Clay promised. His strong embrace surrounded her briefly before a firm pat on the back directed her straight into Cameron’s arms. “Drive safe, and I’ll see you both when you get home.”

Her husband backed the car out of the Thompson and Son’s garage and into the wild weather. Maggie adjusted her seatbelt, glancing out the window at the driving snow. It was coming down so heavily she couldn’t see more than the closest shop windows on Main Street.

As soon as he was on the road, Cameron grabbed her hand. “I’m glad we moved to Rocky Mountain House. It’s a good place, with good people.”

She smiled at him, catching his eye during the brief moment he glanced away from the road. “After four months, it already feels like home.”

All of his attention returned to the road ahead of him. “You know what feels like home? Having things to look forward to, like getting back to work with the guys at the station, or—”

“Or going out drinking and playing pool with the Thompson boys?” she teased.

He squeezed her fingers. “Only when you can’t play with me. Because you’re always my first choice for favourite thing to do in my spare time.”

Whenever he said things like that, she fell in love all over again. “Sweet talker.”

“Love you, babe.”

“Always and forever,” she answered back automatically, a smile lifting her lips. The ritual begun during their time dating hadn’t lost any of its charm, not even after being together for eight years, and married for four of them. She turned to stare into the whiteness of the blizzard. “I know something else you’re looking forward to. Turkey addict.”

“Yup, I like having two Thanksgivings.” He pressed his lips to her knuckles before releasing her hand. “Besides, it reminds me I’ve got an awful lot to be thankful for.”

They both did.

Cameron slipped into the slow line of traffic headed toward the main highway that would take them south. Maggie focused on the faintly visible red taillights ahead of them as she fell silent to let him concentrate on the road.

Counting the moments until the weather improved and the trip was over.

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Travel Picture: Hawaii

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It’s Wednesday and that means it’s time for another travel picture. Today we have a shot from Hawaii of a preying mantis that joined the table in for lunch!

 

Travel Picture: Home

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Vivian didn’t have to travel far to take this incredible picture! This is the sky from her very own backyard.


 


What a beautiful sunset!

First Line Friday: Laird Wolf

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Who doesn’t love a wolfie in a kilt??

Chapter One

A thin spray of water rose behind the wheels of his bike as Damon Black powered down a lonely stretch of Scottish highway and considered all possible meanings of the phrase one hell of a ride.

The second wave of the storm rumbled louder than the pathetic engine under him, thunderclouds roiling overhead like some National Geographic feature played at high speed. As he closed in on the imposing Sterling-Wylde Manor, it looked as if his shitty luck was going to continue.

His last-minute flight from New York to Inverness had turned into a redeye after being delayed on the tarmac for six hours, putting him into the Scottish airport at five a.m. The classic custom bike he’d booked wasn’t there for some reason, and he’d snatched up the only thing they had on the lot. The best Damon could say about his mode of transportation was it had two wheels and an engine not powered by hamsters.

Still, with a sense of urgency driving him, instead of wasting time, he’d headed into the middle of nowhere on his rescue mission. The first rain shower had gotten him wet, but the highway had been well maintained, and he’d pushed on. Now with the sky turning cobalt and shots of silver reflecting off the surface of the distant lake, Damon figured he was about to be completely drenched.

June in Scotland. Lovely.

The road was no longer smooth, and he swerved to avoid massive potholes, his teeth chattering as his entire body vibrated. Mud lifted off the bumpy asphalt, sticking to him as the wind blew in violently from the north. Only the heat of his shifter body kept him from going into hypothermia.

He put his head down and ignored the rolling Scottish landscape, which under better circumstances might have registered as pretty. All he wanted was to get to his destination and make sure Addie MacShay was safe.

This is what friendship meant. It meant he was headed into the middle of bloody nowhere in northern Scotland to rescue the best friend of his best friend’s wife. He’d never met the woman, but here he was, jetlagged and hungry, and if he wasn’t mistaken, three seconds away from swimming in his clothes.

Damon curled up tighter behind the handlebars and increased his speed to maximum, screaming around the sharp curves leading toward what was admittedly an impressive estate. Whatever had brought Addie to this godforsaken place, the people had money.

He adjusted his mindset a few moments later as he passed through the gated entranceway. One side of the massive rock wall held its twisted iron gate in position, albeit rusted and worn, but the other side lay toppled in the grass. An octopus of bent metal reached skyward.

The faint drizzle increased in volume, and Damon cursed harder. He was going to show up looking like a vagabond no matter what he did.

As if trying to increase his level of misery, the back tire on his lame beast of a bike chose that instant to blow, sending the motorcycle skidding from under him. He bounced over the cracked asphalt and onto the grass, momentum propelling him like a rock from a slingshot as he rolled out of control over the torn-up lawn.

He landed in an inglorious heap, waist deep in a sludge-bottomed fishpond.

Damon sat there for a moment, rain pouring down on his head, his helmet tossed aside to let the fresh water wash away some of the duckweed. Strands of hair stuck to his face, and everything from his pants to his boots were filled with water.

His wolf was not amused.

He chuckled. Yup, this trip had been one hell of a ride so far, and he’d barely started.

No luggage—it had decided to go somewhere in India instead of Inverness. According to his research, there was limited if any phone service in the area, which meant if he was in the wrong place it would be hell to get directions, and now here he sat.

At least his day couldn’t get any more fucked up.

Motion from the front door of the enormous edifice pulled his attention to the building towering over him. He couldn’t fault the architecture—his best friend Jim would love to see it. The massive stone bricks that made up the entrance of the keep gave it an old-world flair while the vines curling around masonry softened the imposing castle-like structure.

He hoped to God it had modern plumbing.

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Travel Picture: Aruba

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It’s travel picture Wednesday! This week we have a diving picture from Aruba!

Publishing News Update!

Send to KindleYou might have noticed that some of my backlist aren’t available right now. Samhain Publishing, where a lot of my books were published, closed their doors as of March 1. The rights to the books have been returned to me, and I’m working to get them back up and ready for reading soon, but I’m also taking advantage of this time to do some fun things.

Some tasks have been quick. Like new covers (TURN IT UP and TURN IT ON) which we’ve already got available. I went through the books and cleaned them up a little, but those books are pretty much how they were originally published.

The next series that will be up again is Pacific Passion, and I’ll tell you more about that soon, but here’s the fun thing I really wanted to share.

I’m working on the Granite Lake Wolves now! This was the original series that many of my readers started with, and it’s been really exciting to read through the books and catch up with Robyn and Keil, and Missy and Tad, and the rest. And then I got to thinking about how to make the re-launch REALLY special, so here’s a peek at what you have to look forward to:

Revised and extended stories
New gorgeous covers
AND
New vignettes for each book!

We’ll have more news for you ASAP, but hopefully the wolfies will be headed back your way by the end of April. And we’ll have something special for old readers and new readers.

Arwhooooo! Get ready for wolfies and enjoying light-hearted Northern adventures!

Viv

First Line Friday: Don’t Walk Away

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Love a second chance romance? Be sure to pick up Don’t Walk Away!

A black widow hung two feet over Dean Colter’s head.

A second one perched on the nearby window seat, legs bouncing as she stalked a new victim.

He stood smack-dab in the middle of freak-house central. Tangled white cobwebs filled the corners of the windows while battery-operated candles cast flickering shadows in sharp contrast with the disco ball sparkles raining down on the dance floor.

The second weekend of October was far too early for Halloween, but one thing Dean knew was when to argue with a female and when to close his damn mouth and put on the costume.

At least his get-up wasn’t something lame like Zorro. Nope, he’d wandered through the private entrance to the warehouse fashionably late to discover he’d been left the makings for Iron Man. Nothing more than leggings and light body armor, his muscles filling out the rest. The symbolism made him grin.

The mask, however, he’d “forgotten” in the back room where he’d found the costume waiting. Screw wearing something that covered his entire face.

He glanced around the noisy room, impressed by the size of the crowd that had appeared after just a few phone calls.

The guy beside him weaved hard to his right, and Dean dodged aside with military precision, catching the man with one arm and tipping him back to vertical with a laugh. “Whoa, there, cowboy.”

The drunken partier’s date giggled loudly, bracing her hands on her hips as she arched her back and presented a well-filled jean vest in Dean’s direction.

“Thankee, pard’ner.” Her interest flashed nearly as bright as the shiny sheriff’s badge pinned over her ample bosom.

“You might want to hog-tie your man for the rest of the night,” Dean suggested, amused as the man’s hands wandered over her curves. “Maybe take away the keys to his horse.”

She stepped between them, chin rising. “You wanna come for a ride with us?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not allowed to mix business with pleasure, darling.” He pretended to tip a hat, then strode off, determined to catch up with his buddies who were somewhere in the mob.

Parker Wilson and Jack Hunter were not only his business partners, but also his best friends. They’d gone through hell together during their Ranger days, but now that their two tours of duty were over, they’d all settled in San Francisco. Even with their time on foreign soil long behind them, they seemed to have little difficulty finding new ways to get in trouble.

A pair of identical Playboy Bunnies sauntered past, eyeing Dean with great enthusiasm. He offered a smile, but kept going without even a second glance at their fluffy tails as he examined the crowd for the rest of his team.

Three steps later he jerked to a halt.

God, he had to be running a fever, or dying…or something. He glanced over his shoulder, but nope. The urge to reverse direction and work on seducing one, or both, of the bunnies into his bed wasn’t there. Maybe his libido had finally succumbed to pure exhaustion from all those other times when he’d jumped in enthusiastically, leaving a trail of satisfied women in his wake.

A burst of familiar laughter rang from the corner where the refreshments were, and Dean changed course, once again struck by how many people were enjoying the haunted house around him.

It wasn’t difficult to spot the rest of his crew once he’d cornered them. Someone with a sense of humor had replicated the entire Avengers team and he was pretty sure with one guess he could name the troublemaker.

“Dean.” His buddy Jack went to extend a hand toward him, jerking to a stop as if surprised to spot the curved bow he held. Amusement filled his dark brown eyes, and he paused to sling the contraption over his shoulder. “About time you got here.”

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Travel Picture: Out Hiking

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It’s Travel Picture Wednesday, and today we have a picture of a hiking sign that Viv snapped while out and about. 

First Line Friday: Love is a Battlefield

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Who loves reading about a hero having to struggle with realizing the heroine is no longer his best friend’s little sister? If so, be sure to pick up LOVE IS A BATTLEFIELD!

Chapter One

The street front was empty as Jack Hunter parked his Aston Martin near the front door of DreamMakers Inc. The music from the party he’d just left still pulsed in his veins, and he hummed along with the tune stuck on repeat in his brain, clicking open his trunk to pull out the enormous box filled with mostly full bottles of leftover booze.

Normally at the end of a party, remaining stock belonged to the clients who’d purchased it. In this case the party had been for one of their own, which meant the leftovers were going to refill the office liquor cabinet.

Jack grinned. When he and his best friend, Parker Wilson, had established DreamMakers it had been gamble. They’d wanted to capitalize on the skills they’d gained as soldiers while enjoying life to the max. The fact the company had become wildly successful didn’t suck.

He put his shoulder to the door, balancing the heavy box with one arm as he coded in the security key. After years of serving overseas as a Ranger, it felt strange to be home. Still watching his back, and the backs of his partners, only no longer against a foreign danger.

The security system flickered from armed to standby, and he moved quickly to get under shelter as rain began to fall.

Inside the office, he moved rapidly through the darkness, familiar with every inch of space. To his right their secretary’s desk stood vigil near the front door, a half-dozen comfortable waiting chairs lining the wall across from it. Didi had left her radio on low—no matter how many times he and the guys teased her, they couldn’t convince the older woman to shut things off at night. And considering how much work she did, none of the three partners was prepared to call her up on the carpet for something as minor as leaving her music playing night and day.

He shut off the radio, then headed to the staff area at the back of the building, past the center corridor where they each had an office. He and Dean Colter pretended to work in theirs. Parker Wilson actually had a desk and chairs in his office space, his open door revealing impeccable military neatness in every organized inch.

Jack wasn’t so much into the office furniture and filing cabinets. He had a couch. It worked fine for the rare times he was in the building.

DreamMakers organized dates for the people who couldn’t coordinate enthusiastic enough romantic gestures on their own. In the beginning, their work had been one hundred percent reaching out to confused and desperate friends. The guys who needed some major groveling to get themselves off their ladies’ shit-lists, but over the past three years the company’s reputation had grown.

It wasn’t just about getting their fellow man out of trouble anymore. Now they helped anyone who needed some direction in planning a romantic date or kickass celebration.

Jack paced the hallway, the sneakers he’d changed into after leaving the party landing silently on the laminate flooring. He made it all the way to the staff room/kitchen area and froze.

A light shone by the sink. That in itself wasn’t enough to make him blink. No, it was the light and the dusty backpack lying on the counter that shoved his suspicions into high gear.

He set the box in his hands on the floor, checking around carefully as he reached for the corner cupboard and silently pulled out the gun stashed there. Didi constantly teased the men about the strategically placed weapons in the office, and their reply was always the same—Rangers for life. You could take the man outta the army, but you couldn’t take the army outta the man.

Gun in hand, Jack eased into the corner to prepare himself for anything.A quick peek behind the freestanding barrier by the back exit revealed a worn pair of shoes left outside the bathroom door.

Someone appeared to have entered the building, and unless they were currently strolling the streets of San Francisco in bare feet, they had to still be around. And from the size of the shoes, his mystery person was a whole lot smaller than him.

He’d already seen into all but three of the rooms, and one of those was rapidly eliminated as Jack cautiously poked his head around the corner to discover an empty bathroom.

The towel hanging on the rack was still damp, but other than that there was no sign of his intruder. Which left one of two places.

He paced silently down the hall to stand outside Dean’s office, cocking his head toward the door. Nothing. Nothing but silence so thick it made his ears buzz. He was reaching for the doorknob when a low murmur jerked him from his task.

Someone in the building, less than ten feet away. Somewhere behind the door that led to Jack’s domain.

Maybe he should’ve called for backup, but Parker and his sweetheart Lynn had just left the party, and while Jack knew his friend wouldn’t hesitate for even a moment before dropping everything, he could handle this one on his own.

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