Lori Power's Blog, page 4
September 14, 2015
AuthorsDB-A revelation...
As an author, business owner, and much more, time management is sometimes a struggle. This is especially true in the world of social media when you are trying to create 'hype' and offer your book the most exposure to potential buyers in a fairly saturated marketplace.
Where to find the time to concentrate on writing new material, while at the same time marketing the finished product?
This is where authorsdb.com comes in handy. I stumbled upon AuthorsDB after the publication of my first novel when consistently saw their 'tweets' via other authors I follow. But logging in and signing up didn't create the magic. As we all know with anything, you only get out what you are willing to put in ... but boy, do they make it easy.
With the release of my latest novel I truly discovered the potential.
From cover contests, to followed authors, to latest releases, and top views, AuthorsDB provides the exposure it promises-for free!
The first thing I used them for was to update/upgrade my profile picture. Then, once you add your listings, you are off to the races. AuthorsDB does what it says it will do through tweets and promotion. With a click from your mouse, you can access widgets for your website, use the virtual assistant, boost your Facebook exposure and so much more.
Recognizing the importance of time and getting that next novel finished while continuing to build a 'fan' base, I am so very glad I stumbled upon AuthorsDB.
Where to find the time to concentrate on writing new material, while at the same time marketing the finished product?
This is where authorsdb.com comes in handy. I stumbled upon AuthorsDB after the publication of my first novel when consistently saw their 'tweets' via other authors I follow. But logging in and signing up didn't create the magic. As we all know with anything, you only get out what you are willing to put in ... but boy, do they make it easy.
With the release of my latest novel I truly discovered the potential.
From cover contests, to followed authors, to latest releases, and top views, AuthorsDB provides the exposure it promises-for free!
The first thing I used them for was to update/upgrade my profile picture. Then, once you add your listings, you are off to the races. AuthorsDB does what it says it will do through tweets and promotion. With a click from your mouse, you can access widgets for your website, use the virtual assistant, boost your Facebook exposure and so much more.
Recognizing the importance of time and getting that next novel finished while continuing to build a 'fan' base, I am so very glad I stumbled upon AuthorsDB.
September 7, 2015
AuthorsDB-A revelation for Authors
As an author, business owner, and much more, time management is sometimes a struggle. This is especially true in the world of social media when you are trying to create 'hype' and offer your book the most exposure to potential buyers in a fairly saturated marketplace.
Where to find the time to concentrate on writing new material, while at the same time marketing the finished product?
This is where authorsdb.com comes in handy. I stumbled upon AuthorsDB after the publication of my first novel when consistently saw their 'tweets' via other authors I follow. But logging in and signing up didn't create the magic. As we all know with anything, you only get out what you are willing to put in ... but boy, do they make it easy.
With the release of my latest novel I truly discovered the potential.
From cover contests, to followed authors, to latest releases, and top views, AuthorsDB provides the exposure it promises-for free!
The first thing I used them for was to update/upgrade my profile picture. Then, once you add your listings, you are off to the races. AuthorsDB does what it says it will do through tweets and promotion. With a click from your mouse, you can access widgets for your website, use the virtual assistant, boost your Facebook exposure and so much more.
Recognizing the importance of time and getting that next novel finished while continuing to build a 'fan' base, I am so very glad I stumbled upon AuthorsDB.
Where to find the time to concentrate on writing new material, while at the same time marketing the finished product?
This is where authorsdb.com comes in handy. I stumbled upon AuthorsDB after the publication of my first novel when consistently saw their 'tweets' via other authors I follow. But logging in and signing up didn't create the magic. As we all know with anything, you only get out what you are willing to put in ... but boy, do they make it easy.
With the release of my latest novel I truly discovered the potential.
From cover contests, to followed authors, to latest releases, and top views, AuthorsDB provides the exposure it promises-for free!
The first thing I used them for was to update/upgrade my profile picture. Then, once you add your listings, you are off to the races. AuthorsDB does what it says it will do through tweets and promotion. With a click from your mouse, you can access widgets for your website, use the virtual assistant, boost your Facebook exposure and so much more.
Recognizing the importance of time and getting that next novel finished while continuing to build a 'fan' base, I am so very glad I stumbled upon AuthorsDB.
September 4, 2015
Just a glimpse
“And the driver of the hearse just drove off?”
The question of why bother to complete a report if the officer was just going to recap every point, by point, blinked like a neon sign behind her lids. “No, as I wrote, right here.” She pointed to another neatly printed line on the statement. “The man got out to see if I was okay. . .”
The policeman rested an elbow on the counter and smirked. “Nice of him.”
“I guess,” she agreed, forcing a lift to her lips, putting on her best salesman face. “Listen, the man left me his driver’s license. Said an emergency called him away.”
“Emergencies can happen in the funeral business, I imagine.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers, brow furrowed. "So, a polite runner then?”
Inhaling deeply, Lorna forged on. “I want to talk to you about that, actually.”
The constable stared, barely blinking, so she blurted. “It’s a fake.”
“What’s a fake?”
“The driver’s license,” she confirmed through tight lips.
“How would you know?”
“I didn’t recognize him at first with the beard and everything.” Oh, God, she was rambling. Get a grip. Lorna took a shaky breath. “I know–once knew–the driver I hit. His name is Mitchell Morgan, not Michael Ward as is written here. The picture on this license,” she said moving her own hand to cover the license on the counter, “is him, but that’s not his name. This,” she paused to tap the document with her fingernail, “is a fake.”
“How can you be sure?” His murky brown eyes met hers, clearly skeptical.
She glanced at the picture again, the tips of her fingers still touching the edge of the laminated surface. How could she explain the fact she would never be able to forget Mitchell Morgan’s midnight-blue eyes? Those same expression-filled eyes with just a hint of mischief couldn’t be disguised. “I’m sure.”
The question of why bother to complete a report if the officer was just going to recap every point, by point, blinked like a neon sign behind her lids. “No, as I wrote, right here.” She pointed to another neatly printed line on the statement. “The man got out to see if I was okay. . .”
The policeman rested an elbow on the counter and smirked. “Nice of him.”
“I guess,” she agreed, forcing a lift to her lips, putting on her best salesman face. “Listen, the man left me his driver’s license. Said an emergency called him away.”
“Emergencies can happen in the funeral business, I imagine.” He lifted his gaze to meet hers, brow furrowed. "So, a polite runner then?”
Inhaling deeply, Lorna forged on. “I want to talk to you about that, actually.”
The constable stared, barely blinking, so she blurted. “It’s a fake.”
“What’s a fake?”
“The driver’s license,” she confirmed through tight lips.
“How would you know?”
“I didn’t recognize him at first with the beard and everything.” Oh, God, she was rambling. Get a grip. Lorna took a shaky breath. “I know–once knew–the driver I hit. His name is Mitchell Morgan, not Michael Ward as is written here. The picture on this license,” she said moving her own hand to cover the license on the counter, “is him, but that’s not his name. This,” she paused to tap the document with her fingernail, “is a fake.”
“How can you be sure?” His murky brown eyes met hers, clearly skeptical.
She glanced at the picture again, the tips of her fingers still touching the edge of the laminated surface. How could she explain the fact she would never be able to forget Mitchell Morgan’s midnight-blue eyes? Those same expression-filled eyes with just a hint of mischief couldn’t be disguised. “I’m sure.”
August 28, 2015
Hit 'n Run: A Glimpse into Chapter 1
The long, black hearse sat in the shade of the leafy willows, unnoticed in the quiet, upscale neighbourhood. Like a panther surveying its prey, watchful behind the tinted glass, undercover officer Mitchell Morgan scrutinized the surroundings, ever conscious of the contents in the back.
Mouth parched, complete with a tongue as dry as sand, Mitchell tilted the water bottle slowly and swallowed, enjoying the moist coolness as it trickled down his throat. Satisfied, he slumped farther in the leather seat, aware of the children in the driveway on the corner, the stooped, elderly man picking weeds in the yard nearby, the teen across the street who sat hunched over his DS, on the front concrete step, looking bored.
The holstered cell next to his leg vibrated an insistent stutter, shattering the serene atmosphere. Mitch spared the screen a brief glance.
Blocked.
Without air conditioning, beads of sweat coasted from his brow, under his shades and into his eye, stinging and obscuring his vision. He blinked several times to clear the fog and pressed the accept key.
Three quick, muted tones preceded a double click, to indicate a secure line. A small thrill travelled along his nervous system, leaving a wake of gooseflesh.
“Nine-one-three-Q-R-two-two-E-D-U.” Only after he gave his code would dispatch relay the encrypted message.
“Funeral procession to start,” replied a robotic voice. “All pallbearers to the church.”
A long high-pitched tone pierced his ear. He moved the phone away and severed the connection.
He held the phone level with the steering wheel. His thumb smeared across the face of the cell leaving a greased streak on the screen, while his heart slowed. Within an instant his mind refocused to what was to come next. His left hand moved to smooth his beard. Months of building a case and gathering evidence had come down to this moment.
He turned the engine over and banged the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “Game on.”
Mouth parched, complete with a tongue as dry as sand, Mitchell tilted the water bottle slowly and swallowed, enjoying the moist coolness as it trickled down his throat. Satisfied, he slumped farther in the leather seat, aware of the children in the driveway on the corner, the stooped, elderly man picking weeds in the yard nearby, the teen across the street who sat hunched over his DS, on the front concrete step, looking bored.
The holstered cell next to his leg vibrated an insistent stutter, shattering the serene atmosphere. Mitch spared the screen a brief glance.
Blocked.
Without air conditioning, beads of sweat coasted from his brow, under his shades and into his eye, stinging and obscuring his vision. He blinked several times to clear the fog and pressed the accept key.
Three quick, muted tones preceded a double click, to indicate a secure line. A small thrill travelled along his nervous system, leaving a wake of gooseflesh.
“Nine-one-three-Q-R-two-two-E-D-U.” Only after he gave his code would dispatch relay the encrypted message.
“Funeral procession to start,” replied a robotic voice. “All pallbearers to the church.”
A long high-pitched tone pierced his ear. He moved the phone away and severed the connection.
He held the phone level with the steering wheel. His thumb smeared across the face of the cell leaving a greased streak on the screen, while his heart slowed. Within an instant his mind refocused to what was to come next. His left hand moved to smooth his beard. Months of building a case and gathering evidence had come down to this moment.
He turned the engine over and banged the heel of his hand on the steering wheel. “Game on.”
August 19, 2015
Hit 'n Run-Background of Story
These are exciting days with the release of my second novel, Book One in the "Under Suspicion" series; "Hit 'n Run". Today, I want to share a bit of background on the origins of the idea.
Typically, stories come to me from an accumulation of experiences I string together into a story.
The kernel of “Hit ’n Run” began when I was actually involved in a hit and run at the end of a bad day.
I was on my way to pick up my kids from school and just like my lead character, Lorna, I had to pull over while I tried unsuccessfully to explain to a client how I didn’t really understand cyberspace and sometimes e-mails do go missing. The absurdity of the conversation with this client was accentuated later in the day, after the accident, when I tried to explain to the police office that yes, I had indeed t-boned the car; however, the car had ran the stop sign and then proceeded to flee the scene. It was only when I explained my day to my husband and we laughed, deep in the belly, that I thought, ‘now there’s a scene I can use’.
The opportunity to use this event came much later when a relative recounted, loosely and only on cases now open to public record, how an undercover crime investigation went down. From there, Hit ’n Run was born, complete with full creative license and dramatic embellishments.
An initial problem with the story arose though with not simply bringing the characters together—the accident was already established—it was creating the caring moment. Why would Mitch seek Lorna out? Why would it matter? The first few drafts of the novel included a LOT of backstory—how they met—and it hurt to cut it out. But in the end, the story is focused, reads much better and I now have the materials necessary to build a series of books based on these characters for which I have fallen in love.
I hope you do as well!
Typically, stories come to me from an accumulation of experiences I string together into a story.
The kernel of “Hit ’n Run” began when I was actually involved in a hit and run at the end of a bad day.
I was on my way to pick up my kids from school and just like my lead character, Lorna, I had to pull over while I tried unsuccessfully to explain to a client how I didn’t really understand cyberspace and sometimes e-mails do go missing. The absurdity of the conversation with this client was accentuated later in the day, after the accident, when I tried to explain to the police office that yes, I had indeed t-boned the car; however, the car had ran the stop sign and then proceeded to flee the scene. It was only when I explained my day to my husband and we laughed, deep in the belly, that I thought, ‘now there’s a scene I can use’.
The opportunity to use this event came much later when a relative recounted, loosely and only on cases now open to public record, how an undercover crime investigation went down. From there, Hit ’n Run was born, complete with full creative license and dramatic embellishments.
An initial problem with the story arose though with not simply bringing the characters together—the accident was already established—it was creating the caring moment. Why would Mitch seek Lorna out? Why would it matter? The first few drafts of the novel included a LOT of backstory—how they met—and it hurt to cut it out. But in the end, the story is focused, reads much better and I now have the materials necessary to build a series of books based on these characters for which I have fallen in love.
I hope you do as well!
August 11, 2015
Predicting the Future
“We should go to a psychic!” Marcy’s smile beamed with enthusiasm as they enjoyed a light lunch at Marcy’s house while the kids napped.
“What? A psychic? Why?”
“Oh, it would be fun. I listened to a documentary about psychics on the radio the other week, and I’ve been thinking about going ever since. Have you ever been?”
“No, never.” Vivian smiled. She was intrigued, but nervous to learn more. “What if they tell us something we don’t want to hear?”
“I’d just tell them, no bad news.” Marcy laughed and reached out to tap Vivian’s arm, her kind eyes encouraging. “Come on, we’ll have fun.”
“Okay, I’m game,” Vivian said, fork poised before her lips, feeling a slow smile rise. Excited at the prospect of an adventure, she noticed how Marcy’s eyes dancing with wonder and curiosity. “Should we make it a girl’s night and invite Jess and Steph?”
While Vivian’s friends hotly debated the accuracy of their readings, she reflected on not knowing what to expect from her fortune, or if she expected anything, but she was surprised at Madame Rose’s attire. Vivian assumed the psychic would be a Gypsy-looking woman with at least a crystal ball nearby, but Madame Rose resembled a modern day woman, wearing a black pencil skirt and white blouse.
The only information Vivian had relayed was her name and date of birth at the beginning of the conversation. She contemplated the psychic’s advice, recounting Madame Rose’s words. “Your number is a five with an undercurrent of four. You love the drama.” Her voice was hauntingly husky as though coming from the deepest reaches of Vivian’s own soul.
“You want…no, crave adventure, but the four keeps you to home. You’re loyal, fiercely passionate, yet you are holding back. You must feel that craving deeply on the inside. That craving of adventure is here in your cards over and over. You want to be spontaneous yet you restrain. Why are you holding back? What are you waiting for? You have so much to give.” Madame Rose paused and nudged the glasses on her nose with her forefinger. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, am I?”
The polished woman stared at Vivian with a question in her magnified eyes, but didn’t offer to discuss the question. She simply took Vivian’s hand, and then read her palm. Brushing her fingers lightly over Vivian’s right palm, the psychic smiled. “You will find what you seek. It is out there. The answer to the question you ask is, yes. Do you know what that means?”
Vivian nodded. “I think so, yes.”
“Be honest with yourself, and know it’s okay to seek your heart’s desire. Do you know what it is?”
“Yes.”
“What? A psychic? Why?”
“Oh, it would be fun. I listened to a documentary about psychics on the radio the other week, and I’ve been thinking about going ever since. Have you ever been?”
“No, never.” Vivian smiled. She was intrigued, but nervous to learn more. “What if they tell us something we don’t want to hear?”
“I’d just tell them, no bad news.” Marcy laughed and reached out to tap Vivian’s arm, her kind eyes encouraging. “Come on, we’ll have fun.”
“Okay, I’m game,” Vivian said, fork poised before her lips, feeling a slow smile rise. Excited at the prospect of an adventure, she noticed how Marcy’s eyes dancing with wonder and curiosity. “Should we make it a girl’s night and invite Jess and Steph?”
While Vivian’s friends hotly debated the accuracy of their readings, she reflected on not knowing what to expect from her fortune, or if she expected anything, but she was surprised at Madame Rose’s attire. Vivian assumed the psychic would be a Gypsy-looking woman with at least a crystal ball nearby, but Madame Rose resembled a modern day woman, wearing a black pencil skirt and white blouse.
The only information Vivian had relayed was her name and date of birth at the beginning of the conversation. She contemplated the psychic’s advice, recounting Madame Rose’s words. “Your number is a five with an undercurrent of four. You love the drama.” Her voice was hauntingly husky as though coming from the deepest reaches of Vivian’s own soul.
“You want…no, crave adventure, but the four keeps you to home. You’re loyal, fiercely passionate, yet you are holding back. You must feel that craving deeply on the inside. That craving of adventure is here in your cards over and over. You want to be spontaneous yet you restrain. Why are you holding back? What are you waiting for? You have so much to give.” Madame Rose paused and nudged the glasses on her nose with her forefinger. “I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, am I?”
The polished woman stared at Vivian with a question in her magnified eyes, but didn’t offer to discuss the question. She simply took Vivian’s hand, and then read her palm. Brushing her fingers lightly over Vivian’s right palm, the psychic smiled. “You will find what you seek. It is out there. The answer to the question you ask is, yes. Do you know what that means?”
Vivian nodded. “I think so, yes.”
“Be honest with yourself, and know it’s okay to seek your heart’s desire. Do you know what it is?”
“Yes.”
July 31, 2015
Hit 'n Run
Under Suspicion Book One
Back Cover:
Lorna Tymchuk fights to overcome a past filled with neglect and abuse.
Determined to build a better life, Lorna has climbed the ladder to a success publish relations career on slippery rung at a time. But while on her way to an important meeting, a former lover crashes back into her life—literally—and she becomes embroiled in a police investigation that threatens everything she’s achieved.
Mitch Morgan doesn’t believe in coincides.
Mitch has spent five years trying to forget Lorna, only to run into her on his way to an undercover sting operation. Old feelings quickly resurface and passion reignites, but as his investigation unfolds, evidence suggests the woman he’s falling for might have ties to the very criminals he’s after.
When Mitch tugs any thread of his investigation, it seems to lead back to Lorna. Caught between his desire for the strong, curious beauty and the growing suspicions of his superiors, he must choose between trusting his instincts and following regulations.
Lorna finds herself entangled in a web of betrayal.
Whens he learns the nature of the investigation—and her role as a suspected spy—Lorna goes to dangerous lengths to clear her name and prove to everyone, including herself, she’s worth of the handsome, tenacious Mitch. With danger around every corner, Lorna is on the run for her life, but refuses to run from the past any longer.
She can find the evidence she needs, but at what cost?
Mitch now knows her secrets and must find her first and convince her she—and their love—are worth fighting for, before it’s too late.
Back Cover:
Lorna Tymchuk fights to overcome a past filled with neglect and abuse.
Determined to build a better life, Lorna has climbed the ladder to a success publish relations career on slippery rung at a time. But while on her way to an important meeting, a former lover crashes back into her life—literally—and she becomes embroiled in a police investigation that threatens everything she’s achieved.
Mitch Morgan doesn’t believe in coincides.
Mitch has spent five years trying to forget Lorna, only to run into her on his way to an undercover sting operation. Old feelings quickly resurface and passion reignites, but as his investigation unfolds, evidence suggests the woman he’s falling for might have ties to the very criminals he’s after.
When Mitch tugs any thread of his investigation, it seems to lead back to Lorna. Caught between his desire for the strong, curious beauty and the growing suspicions of his superiors, he must choose between trusting his instincts and following regulations.
Lorna finds herself entangled in a web of betrayal.
Whens he learns the nature of the investigation—and her role as a suspected spy—Lorna goes to dangerous lengths to clear her name and prove to everyone, including herself, she’s worth of the handsome, tenacious Mitch. With danger around every corner, Lorna is on the run for her life, but refuses to run from the past any longer.
She can find the evidence she needs, but at what cost?
Mitch now knows her secrets and must find her first and convince her she—and their love—are worth fighting for, before it’s too late.
July 25, 2015
My Sexy Saturday
A Tumble on the Beach
Elleah swiped a tear off her cheek and turned from her trance to wander further down the beach. She had walked only a short way, skipping over the incoming surf, when she landed wrong, tripped and fell over—legs. She had fallen over a man sleeping on the beach…a bum?
***
“I may not be a physician, but I can certainly tell a sprain from a break—.” He knelt in front of her. A chill breeze caught her and sent a shiver up her arms where he had most recently held her steady. Light fingers moved from the top of her knee down to her foot. Everywhere he touched, left a trail of anxious nerve endings.
With a firm hand wrapped around her heel, supporting the weight of her raised calf, he unclasped her sandal and laid it to the side. He probed the injury, gently moving her foot this way and that. She tried to suppress a squeal when he stretched the limb downward and pain shot through her leg. “It’s not broken,” he said. His speech was almost hypnotic and seemed to sooth her pain as much as his touch. “Though it may indeed have some swelling, I’m not feeling any accumulated fluid. I think if I wrap it, it will see you safely up to the hotel until you can have someone else look at it.”
“With what?”
“Excuse me?”
With the question, his fingers stilled where they had been massaging the sole of her foot and she relaxed back into his touch and caressing tones. Elleah brought a hand up to brush her hair back from her face. “What will you use to wrap it?” She fought hard to concentrate on her words.
“Yes, well…” he set her foot down upon the sand and settled back on his haunches.
Through the gloom, she watched his rummage through his pockets muttering to himself. Glancing out over the ocean, she saw the faint tinge of an indigo line marking the horizon. They were but a couple of hours away from dawn. “Ah, ha,” he declared and perched back on his knees to lift her calf in his large hand. “My tie.” With a practiced ease, he stretched the across her calf and started to wrap the silky material down and around her foot—her ankle, leaving her toes exposed. “You won’t be able to put your shoe back on.”
“I’ll ruin your tie if I walk on it.”
“It’s not sentimental,” he said and smiled up at her. “Sacrificed for a good cause.”
View more blogs on this Sexy Saturday hop:
www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com
Elleah swiped a tear off her cheek and turned from her trance to wander further down the beach. She had walked only a short way, skipping over the incoming surf, when she landed wrong, tripped and fell over—legs. She had fallen over a man sleeping on the beach…a bum?
***
“I may not be a physician, but I can certainly tell a sprain from a break—.” He knelt in front of her. A chill breeze caught her and sent a shiver up her arms where he had most recently held her steady. Light fingers moved from the top of her knee down to her foot. Everywhere he touched, left a trail of anxious nerve endings.
With a firm hand wrapped around her heel, supporting the weight of her raised calf, he unclasped her sandal and laid it to the side. He probed the injury, gently moving her foot this way and that. She tried to suppress a squeal when he stretched the limb downward and pain shot through her leg. “It’s not broken,” he said. His speech was almost hypnotic and seemed to sooth her pain as much as his touch. “Though it may indeed have some swelling, I’m not feeling any accumulated fluid. I think if I wrap it, it will see you safely up to the hotel until you can have someone else look at it.”
“With what?”
“Excuse me?”
With the question, his fingers stilled where they had been massaging the sole of her foot and she relaxed back into his touch and caressing tones. Elleah brought a hand up to brush her hair back from her face. “What will you use to wrap it?” She fought hard to concentrate on her words.
“Yes, well…” he set her foot down upon the sand and settled back on his haunches.
Through the gloom, she watched his rummage through his pockets muttering to himself. Glancing out over the ocean, she saw the faint tinge of an indigo line marking the horizon. They were but a couple of hours away from dawn. “Ah, ha,” he declared and perched back on his knees to lift her calf in his large hand. “My tie.” With a practiced ease, he stretched the across her calf and started to wrap the silky material down and around her foot—her ankle, leaving her toes exposed. “You won’t be able to put your shoe back on.”
“I’ll ruin your tie if I walk on it.”
“It’s not sentimental,” he said and smiled up at her. “Sacrificed for a good cause.”
View more blogs on this Sexy Saturday hop:
www.mysexysaturday.blogspot.com
July 12, 2015
A year after "Storms of Passion"
A year after the official release of "Storms of Passion" from Wild Rose Press, this debut novel has recently received a Readers Favorite, five-star review and has entered Amazon's Author's Data Base "Top 10 Booklist"
To update reader's with what's been going on with the characters, here is a recent interview with Tucker MacLean, rescue swimmer, from "Storms of Passion".
What interests you?
A slight chuckle, while he rubs a palm along his jean clad knee. “A lot of things interest me and they change rather frequently,” Tuck replies and casts his gaze towards the sky. “I work with computers all day long and when I emerge from my cave, as it were, I am interested by the clouds.
The versatility of the sky is like a picture in motion.” Here Tuck pauses and he points to some wispy Sirius formations. “Just there, a couple of thousand of feet above us, winds blow hundreds of miles an hour and yet those clouds look so close and seem to be simply swaying in the breeze. That their formations can be used to predict weather, current and a host of other natural occurrences, is to me, fascinating.”
You say you work with computers, but our readers know you as a Coast Guard rescue swimmer?
He nods his head. “Yes, after that big storm, which basically paralyzed the area, I can see how they would.
I’m a volunteer rescue swimmer and when those storms came through, we needed every able body we could find to see the town through safely...not to mention those poor souls out on the ocean when it hit. The ocean is a part of me, been a part of the MacLean family for generations, but it is not a calling like it is for many others, including my dad and brother. I do what I can when I can, but at the end of the day, I’m just the geek in the basement creating websites and marketing the business.”
I don’t know that I’d refer to you as a ‘geek’. What brought you into working for the family business? I understand at one time, you were quite the name in high tech.
“Seems like a lifetime ago now,” he starts and then reaches for his bottle of water. “I guess at one time I played with the high rollers. But sometimes you loose.” Tuck shrugs his shoulders and sets the bottle back on the table. The moisture runs in rivulets down the side of the bottle to form a mote around the base.
“At the time, I guess it was my own trio of storms, which all hit at once. First the tech bubble blew, I found out my business partnership was not what I had envisioned and with those items gone, a marriage initiated on less than a solid foundation crumbled with the on-slough of the tide.”
Sounds rough, but you pulled through and are married again?
“Yes, another storm—real, violent and without mercy brought Vivian into my life. But with Vivian by my side,” he turns to take Vivian's hand in his and she smiles warmly. “I have been able to set not only a firm foundation surrounded by family, but lay the very roots I didn’t even know I craved.
It’s funny what you find when you’re not even looking.”
To update reader's with what's been going on with the characters, here is a recent interview with Tucker MacLean, rescue swimmer, from "Storms of Passion".
What interests you?
A slight chuckle, while he rubs a palm along his jean clad knee. “A lot of things interest me and they change rather frequently,” Tuck replies and casts his gaze towards the sky. “I work with computers all day long and when I emerge from my cave, as it were, I am interested by the clouds.
The versatility of the sky is like a picture in motion.” Here Tuck pauses and he points to some wispy Sirius formations. “Just there, a couple of thousand of feet above us, winds blow hundreds of miles an hour and yet those clouds look so close and seem to be simply swaying in the breeze. That their formations can be used to predict weather, current and a host of other natural occurrences, is to me, fascinating.”
You say you work with computers, but our readers know you as a Coast Guard rescue swimmer?
He nods his head. “Yes, after that big storm, which basically paralyzed the area, I can see how they would.
I’m a volunteer rescue swimmer and when those storms came through, we needed every able body we could find to see the town through safely...not to mention those poor souls out on the ocean when it hit. The ocean is a part of me, been a part of the MacLean family for generations, but it is not a calling like it is for many others, including my dad and brother. I do what I can when I can, but at the end of the day, I’m just the geek in the basement creating websites and marketing the business.”
I don’t know that I’d refer to you as a ‘geek’. What brought you into working for the family business? I understand at one time, you were quite the name in high tech.
“Seems like a lifetime ago now,” he starts and then reaches for his bottle of water. “I guess at one time I played with the high rollers. But sometimes you loose.” Tuck shrugs his shoulders and sets the bottle back on the table. The moisture runs in rivulets down the side of the bottle to form a mote around the base.
“At the time, I guess it was my own trio of storms, which all hit at once. First the tech bubble blew, I found out my business partnership was not what I had envisioned and with those items gone, a marriage initiated on less than a solid foundation crumbled with the on-slough of the tide.”
Sounds rough, but you pulled through and are married again?
“Yes, another storm—real, violent and without mercy brought Vivian into my life. But with Vivian by my side,” he turns to take Vivian's hand in his and she smiles warmly. “I have been able to set not only a firm foundation surrounded by family, but lay the very roots I didn’t even know I craved.
It’s funny what you find when you’re not even looking.”
July 1, 2015
Mistaken Impression
From the Novel: "Seabreeze"
He tilted his head to the side and the muscle to the side of his strong jaw pulsed as though he were chewing something—pondering a thought. “I have to say you’re not what I expected.”
His words surprised her.
His tone mused and he cocked his head to the other side. He cupped her face in his hands and bent his face to hers. Close enough to feel his breath slide over her chin, he paused, his thumbs stroked a circular motion across her cheeks. “Not at all,” he breathed. Then with the same feather light touch, he brushed his lips across hers.
Her hands found the contours of his shoulders and she held her balance under the sway of his embrace.
He pulled back again and her breath hitched, lodged in her throat alone with any words she may have had.
“I don’t normally pay,” he said and brushed his nose against hers. “But you are a tasty treat. How much?”
What?!
Elleah started into his penetrating gaze and tried to comprehend the meaning of his words.
He bent and kissed her again. The feel of his mouth moving over hers made her breasts arch towards his touch. “How much,” he groaned against her lips and stepped closer.
Elleah stepped back, grateful for the wall for holding her upright. “Excuse me?”
He leaned towards her again, his smile wide, animalistic—hungry. “You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise.”
The crack of her palm against the planes of his cheek reverberated off the still walls and echoed down the corridor.
He tilted his head to the side and the muscle to the side of his strong jaw pulsed as though he were chewing something—pondering a thought. “I have to say you’re not what I expected.”
His words surprised her.
His tone mused and he cocked his head to the other side. He cupped her face in his hands and bent his face to hers. Close enough to feel his breath slide over her chin, he paused, his thumbs stroked a circular motion across her cheeks. “Not at all,” he breathed. Then with the same feather light touch, he brushed his lips across hers.
Her hands found the contours of his shoulders and she held her balance under the sway of his embrace.
He pulled back again and her breath hitched, lodged in her throat alone with any words she may have had.
“I don’t normally pay,” he said and brushed his nose against hers. “But you are a tasty treat. How much?”
What?!
Elleah started into his penetrating gaze and tried to comprehend the meaning of his words.
He bent and kissed her again. The feel of his mouth moving over hers made her breasts arch towards his touch. “How much,” he groaned against her lips and stepped closer.
Elleah stepped back, grateful for the wall for holding her upright. “Excuse me?”
He leaned towards her again, his smile wide, animalistic—hungry. “You’ll enjoy yourself, I promise.”
The crack of her palm against the planes of his cheek reverberated off the still walls and echoed down the corridor.
