Scenes - Excerpts from Each Novel

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Glenn Sorensen as a high school senior deeply impressed by Amy Rivera  as they drive home from a work project  (Silent Hero): 

     She gave me an appreciative smile and began the return drive toward Taylorsburg. The sun beat down relentlessly, overpowering any cooling effect of a windswept convertible. Amy’s hair had come partly unpinned and kept swirling around her face and shoulders. I couldn’t help noticing that her cotton blouse actually became wetter, more plastered to her skin. And I could see every tiny detail of her bra and the curve of her breasts above it. At first I tried to look away. When that piece of resolve collapsed, I tried for the innocent high road, thinking of myself as a guy visiting a museum where he could admire the beauty of art and sculpture. 

     Amy stopped at a county crossroad, turned toward me, and smiled again, her green eyes luminous. “You are a really good guy, Glenn Sorensen. Thank you.” I smiled back at her, but uneasily for an unexpected reason. Captain Boner had suddenly leapt to full attention, saved from embarrassment by my carefully positioned left arm. 

Vincent Caldarano facing down a rebellious lieutenant after Vince's father died, leaving Vince in control of the organization  (Accidental Soldiers):

     Vince leaned forward supported by two clenched fists, black eyes blazing, his voice just above a whisper, but hissing like a boiler overheated. “I will speak for approximately fifteen more seconds. You will then turn your ass around and walk silently through that fucking door. No one… no one…comes into this office and threatens me. You want to see Anthony? Look into these eyes, Sam, and you’ll see the part of Anthony that knows what to do with a goddam traitor. Now get out of my sight.”

Kelly Masterson one of several young employees given an unexpected opportunity to interact with Richard Lockhart, CEO of Lockhart Industries (Players & Pawns):

     He met her eyes, She returned the gaze hoping to look calmer than she felt.

      “Why do you think I can deliver the speech you suggested?”

      “I’ve heard you speak, sir. I—”

      “Have you heard me say more than three conciliatory words in a row?”

      His tone had returned to harsh, almost sarcastic. She wondered whether he was testing or attacking. “I think you could give a balanced speech.”

      “I assume you know what the employees call me.”

      “Yes, sir, Dick the Prick.” She couldn’t believe she said it. She had meant to be bold and honest, but not that bold and honest. She felt instant heat on her neck and cheeks.

     He studied her for a long moment, then his face relaxed into a broad smile. “I have over nineteen thousand employees. Do you know how many have called me Dick the Prick to my face?”

      “How many?” she asked tentatively, heart still pounding.

      “None, until just now. Good shot, Masterson.” He returned to somber, while she suppressed a sigh of relief and an urge to confess that her good shot had been questionably timed honesty. 

      “Do you plan to move ahead in the company?” asked Lockhart.

      “I hope so, sir.”

      “Let me tell you about hope and a quarter.”

      “I intend to move ahead in the company.”

Margo Souder’s tribute at her mother’s funeral (Players & Pawns).

      "She sat with me that first night, the night she knew there was no hope, and she talked to me about hope. She endured pain that knew no boundaries, and she talked to me about peace and serenity and joy. She approached the end, a time that most would call dark and bleak and bitter, and she talked to me about a bright future. She asked me to live a life of joy and hope and love, and to think of her as I did. She asked me to love my father enough for both of us, and I promised..." 

      She turned toward her father, her eyes now streaming tears. "And I promise to do that. Then she apologized for leaving me so soon. I told her she would never leave me. That her spirit is so deep in my heart and my soul that she would be with me forever." Margo turned, slowly surveying the vast room. "Let's all learn to live like that—and to love like that—so that, when this day comes, our legacy is good and rich and lasting. 

      "Rest well, my sweet and precious mother. Where there is only peace and joy. Where there is no more pain. I love you with all my heart."

Jackie Billings’ earthy and hard-nosed mother during a one-on-one across the kitchen table, exploring Jackie's suddenly troubled life  (The Alphabet Affair):

     “For Christ’s sake,”Madeline rumbled, “I can’t decide whether you remind me of a wandering butterfly or a bitch in heat. Either way, make a decision about your marriage. I can’t believe Matt’s been able to survive you; and I’m not talking about the infidelity.”

      Jackie now remembered why discussions with her mother rarely ended well. This was the moment when she stomped upstairs and slammed her door. Today she would hang in there. “He was smothering me, Mom.”

      “Give the guy a break, for crying out loud. You married him in the first place because he was protective. Now you’re busting his balls, not to mention prowling, because he is. I don’t even like the guy—probably because he reminds me of his asshole father—but I’m on his side in this mess.”

     “I am working on my marriage, Mom.”

Red Sullivan, a truck driver whose help Jackie Billings is soliciting for a dangerous 10 pm meeting in an interstate truck stop(The Alphabet Affair):

      She walked to the next lighted truck and tried again. This time a hand emerged from behind the curtain and shooed her away. She returned to her car, drove toward the next cabin light, and stopped in front of a wine-colored Kenworth.

      A bear of a man wearing a dark plaid shirt over stark-white long johns emerged from the sleeper and flipped on the cab light. His eyes were bright blue above a full red beard. He lowered the window. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m a happily married man. Ya’ll can just move on down the line, unless you’d like to set a minute and talk about the Lord.”

      She smiled, relieved at the indication of kindness, aware that she hadn’t thought of everything. “I’m not here to, I mean for… My name is Jackie Billings. I need some help.”

     “How so, ma’am?”

     “I’ll be talking with a man in a few minutes. I’m afraid he might try to hurt me. Will you shine your lights on my car and maybe keep an eye on me?”

      He studied her, but only briefly. “I’ll do more’n that, ma’am. He so much as lays a hand on you and I’ll bust his head.” 

      Jackie smiled again. “In the name of the Lord?”

      “My Lord don’t cotton to no one hurtin’ a woman.”

      “What’s your name?”

     “John Sullivan, ma’am. But folks just call me Red.”

     “Just watch me, Red. I’ll be all right. And thank you.”

     She walked back to her car and leaned against the front fender, now brightly illuminated by Red Sullivan’s headlights.

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