Review of my new mystery/suspense novel "Most Fortunate Son" from Lighthouse Literary Reviews:
Click on this link to their website: Lighthouse Literary Reviews
4 out of 5 beacons..."a great read" No, I don't know these guys. Honest.
MOST FORTUNATE SON - Review from Lighthouse Literary Reviews
by ERIC LUCK
Publish America
March 2006
1-4241-0538-2
Mystery/Suspense Rating: Four out of five beacons - "a great read"
Jerry Wilson is a private investigator. Not your usual P.I., though. He does taxes on the side to make
ends meet. And, he’s married—happily. He also coaches his 12-year-old daughter’s soccer team.
When a wealthy woman client is murdered, Jerry is among the first suspects. While working to clear
himself, he finds himself, his familyand Dr. Bodie Kohler, a longtime friend, in increasing jeopardy. His
wife and child are injured in a hit-and-run that clearly is not accidental and then his friend is found badly
beaten.
There’s a subplot in which Dr. Kohler asks Jerry to investigate the circumstances of his son’s death in
Vietnam and another involving the dastardly deeds of Kohler’s surviving son, Clayton. I was impressed
with the insights of the author—who was a tad too young for the war—into the emotions of his characters
who recount their experiences in Vietnam.
There’s a lot crammed into this short novel. But, Luck manages to hold it together, mixing humor with
pathos and action. One drawback—like many books brought out by Publish America—it could have
benefited by a good editor.
Reviewed by: John
Click on this link to their website: Lighthouse Literary Reviews
4 out of 5 beacons..."a great read" No, I don't know these guys. Honest.
MOST FORTUNATE SON - Review from Lighthouse Literary Reviews
by ERIC LUCK
Publish America
March 2006
1-4241-0538-2
Mystery/Suspense Rating: Four out of five beacons - "a great read"
Jerry Wilson is a private investigator. Not your usual P.I., though. He does taxes on the side to make
ends meet. And, he’s married—happily. He also coaches his 12-year-old daughter’s soccer team.
When a wealthy woman client is murdered, Jerry is among the first suspects. While working to clear
himself, he finds himself, his familyand Dr. Bodie Kohler, a longtime friend, in increasing jeopardy. His
wife and child are injured in a hit-and-run that clearly is not accidental and then his friend is found badly
beaten.
There’s a subplot in which Dr. Kohler asks Jerry to investigate the circumstances of his son’s death in
Vietnam and another involving the dastardly deeds of Kohler’s surviving son, Clayton. I was impressed
with the insights of the author—who was a tad too young for the war—into the emotions of his characters
who recount their experiences in Vietnam.
There’s a lot crammed into this short novel. But, Luck manages to hold it together, mixing humor with
pathos and action. One drawback—like many books brought out by Publish America—it could have
benefited by a good editor.
Reviewed by: John
Get my new mystery/suspense novel, "Most Fortunate Son," by clicking on one of the following links:
Amazon.com
Barnes and Noble.com
Booksamillion.com
PublishAmerica.com
If you are where I am, call me and I will bring you one. On this page you can see some book reviews, even
some from people that I am not related to... or you can read Chapter 1 of the book below.
Amazon.com
Barnes and Noble.com
Booksamillion.com
PublishAmerica.com
If you are where I am, call me and I will bring you one. On this page you can see some book reviews, even
some from people that I am not related to... or you can read Chapter 1 of the book below.
|
Jerry Wilson, a private detective from Ft. Worth, Texas, certainly has a lot on his plate. Besides
his normal coaching and family obligations, he is asked to investigate a case involving a
cheating husband, a murdered wife, and a ditzy girlfriend-on-the-side. Not only that, but Dr.
Bodie Kohler, a longtime friend and confrere for many of Jerry’s cases, asks Jerry to investigate
what happened to his son James during the Vietnam War. James’ death is explained as a
devastating yet commonplace event occurring in combat, but Bodie suspects there is something
more to the story. Jerry’s plans to investigate the events surrounding James’ death are halted
when chaos erupts, and the lives of his family are threatened. Warren Duchtin, the previously
mentioned cheating husband, is Jerry’s primary suspect in the case of Warren’s murdered
wife, Joanne. It seems that Warren—or someone—knows Jerry is working hard to crack the
case and is fighting back.
The novel comprises two unique subplots in which Jerry is the central figure: the plot involving
Warren and the murder mystery, and the one involving the quest to uncover the truth of James’
death. Eric Luck tells these stories brilliantly, constructing many unforgettable characters: the
likeable Jerry, intelligent Bodie with the Southern drawl, the complicated war veteran Captain
Billy, and Clayton, Bodie’s other son who has harbored feelings of resentment for so long that it
results in the unraveling of his moral fiber. Most Fortunate Son is a well-crafted work of fiction
and a great pleasure to read.
Cassandra Zaruba, author of "Liquid Bones", www.cassandrazaruba.net
“I thoroughly enjoyed reading Eric Luck's first novel.
His entertaining characters come alive in "Most Fortunate Son".
You will think of Jerry Wilson as a personal friend, and you
will want to sign up for one of Professor Kohler's classes
by the end of the book.”
Meg Henderson, Dallas, Texas
MOST FORTUNATE SON
ISBN # 1-4241-0538-2
by Eric Luck
Book Synopsis
Jerry Wilson, a private investigator in Ft. Worth, Texas, has a wealthy
woman client turn up murdered. Just before her death, she had
received from Jerry incriminating photos of her slimy husband with
his new girlfriend. The police calculatedly work their way through
suspects, starting with Jerry.
Jerry’s good friend, Dr. Bodie Kohler, helps Jerry with investigations.
While checking into the death of their client, Dr. Kohler asks Jerry to
find out the truth about how Bodie’s oldest son was killed in Vietnam
– 37 years ago. It will require Jerry to interview survivors of one of
the most intense battles of the Vietnam War, all of who witnessed
significant brutalities besides the death of James Kohler in 1968.
None are interested in revisiting those memories. Maybe the only
way to achieve any level of understanding about the Vietnam War
is to have been there. Many Vets believe it. Jerry discovers that
there are different levels of understanding. He also discovers that
not all Vietnam vets are the same. Many made significant successes
of themselves after surviving the hell of war.
Jerry’s life is chaos but he prefers it that way right up until his
world begins collapsing in on him.
Everyone’s confrontational interaction with Bodie’s youngest son, Clayton Kohler, adds to the mounting pressure.
Fighting elder abuse, coercion and theft, Bodie’s family and friends rally in his defense.
For the investigation into Bodie’s oldest son’s life and death, Jerry is unable to avoid travel away from Ft. Worth.
His trip to the U. S. Virgin Islands leaves him unable to personally protect his family from impending danger. He
must rely on the police he has been arguing with to keep his family safe.
Jerry examines issues of family, friends and lessons about how fragile life may be, despite all appearances to the
contrary. The result of his inquiry on Bodie’s behalf changes lives, especially Jerry’s.
ISBN # 1-4241-0538-2
by Eric Luck
Book Synopsis
Jerry Wilson, a private investigator in Ft. Worth, Texas, has a wealthy
woman client turn up murdered. Just before her death, she had
received from Jerry incriminating photos of her slimy husband with
his new girlfriend. The police calculatedly work their way through
suspects, starting with Jerry.
Jerry’s good friend, Dr. Bodie Kohler, helps Jerry with investigations.
While checking into the death of their client, Dr. Kohler asks Jerry to
find out the truth about how Bodie’s oldest son was killed in Vietnam
– 37 years ago. It will require Jerry to interview survivors of one of
the most intense battles of the Vietnam War, all of who witnessed
significant brutalities besides the death of James Kohler in 1968.
None are interested in revisiting those memories. Maybe the only
way to achieve any level of understanding about the Vietnam War
is to have been there. Many Vets believe it. Jerry discovers that
there are different levels of understanding. He also discovers that
not all Vietnam vets are the same. Many made significant successes
of themselves after surviving the hell of war.
Jerry’s life is chaos but he prefers it that way right up until his
world begins collapsing in on him.
Everyone’s confrontational interaction with Bodie’s youngest son, Clayton Kohler, adds to the mounting pressure.
Fighting elder abuse, coercion and theft, Bodie’s family and friends rally in his defense.
For the investigation into Bodie’s oldest son’s life and death, Jerry is unable to avoid travel away from Ft. Worth.
His trip to the U. S. Virgin Islands leaves him unable to personally protect his family from impending danger. He
must rely on the police he has been arguing with to keep his family safe.
Jerry examines issues of family, friends and lessons about how fragile life may be, despite all appearances to the
contrary. The result of his inquiry on Bodie’s behalf changes lives, especially Jerry’s.
Chapter One MOST FORTUNATE SON by Eric Luck |
• 1. Ogres
A winter rainstorm was pummeling Ft. Worth, Texas, Sunday night, January 30. Lola and I had fallen asleep to the rain drumming the wood
shingle roof of our little house. Our twelve year old daughter, Lily, had come in sometime later and crawled in bed with us, probably mere
minutes after thunder began shaking the earth. Not that I noticed.
I was flying without the assistance of any visible help when an empty, wispy white face shaded by a black hood and flowing black cape rose up
in front of me. One giant, ominously clawed hand was wrapped around my wife, Lola, and the other held Lily. Each of them was fighting to free
themselves from the unidentified evil. As I started flying toward this insidious creature, the phone rang.
No, it was really ringing.
I only dropped the receiver once before mumbling, “Jerry, uh, Wilson.”
“Jerry Wilson? This is Angela Delano, Ft. Worth Police Department. Jerry? You there?”
“Mmm, Angela? Really? Who?”
“Jerry, would you please come downstairs? I’m outside at your front door right now.”
I could tell it was still dark outside.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Is everything okay? Uh. Be right there.” I was barely coherent. Why do I always pretend to be awake whenever
taking a phone call in the middle of the night as if the caller can’t tell I’m asleep? I hung up and pulled on sweat pants as I headed for the stairs. I
already had on a T-shirt and boxers, thank goodness. The clock by the bed showed 4:18 a.m. It was sort-of Monday morning.
Lola sat up and asked quietly, “Jerry, you alright?”
“Yeah, hon. Go back to sleep.” Next to her, Lily did not stir.
At the front door I checked the peephole. Maybe I was still dreaming. Nope. There was Angela and two big, young, Caucasian brutes in
uniform. I opened the deadlock, turned the knob and pulled the door open. The rain had stopped, but it was cold and wet outside.
“Come on in Detective. Everything alright?”
All three stepped into the entry. Through my grogginess every noise seemed magnified, all loud thumps and wet whomps.
“No. It is not, Jerry. Do you have a client by the name of Joanne Duchtin?” asked Angela.
“Uh, yeah. Why?” I replied. Lola had pulled on a robe and come down behind me.
“She turned up dead tonight. Murdered,” said Angela. All three watched me expectantly as she said the words. Lola gasped out loud
behind me.
“Man. What happened? How was she killed?” I was stunned, but only by the hour. It didn’t surprise me one bit that Joanne had been
murdered. Joanne Duchtin lived a very fast life in the nouveau riches circles of Ft. Worth with her slimy-built-like-a-fire-hydrant and look like a
thieving-used-car-salesman husband, Warren. My feet were cold. Lola’s grip tightened on my shoulder.
“Tell us where you were from noon yesterday to now, Jerry,” said Angela. Lola released her grip and moved around to where she could
see my face.
“What is it, four in the morning? Get serious Angela. I’ve got no reason to kill Joanne. She was current on her bills.”
Not amused by my normal smart-ass approach, all three police officers said nothing, held my stare and waited. I could tell this was not patient
waiting.
“Okay, fine.” Now, I was starting to get hacked off. “Noon? All three of us were still at church at University Christian. We all left
together at nearly 1:00 p.m. after cleaning up the Activities Center with two other families. This simply amounted to stacking the folding chairs
and running the vacuum. We went to Luby’s Cafeteria for Sunday dinner arriving there about 1:20 p.m. I had the LuAnn Platter, don’t
remember what Lola had, Lily ate macaroni and cheese and red Jell-O. We went straight from Luby’s to this castle of a mansion that you
currently harass me in at 2:00 p.m. We all changed clothes and I cleaned the gutters in front per Lola’s instructions. She said it might rain and
that I had been promising to clean them for six weeks. I swear it hadn’t been more than four weeks. Cold weather makes me not want to clean
gutters. So, be sure to add that to any other charges you’ve got brewing. I watched the Phoenix Open on TV from 3:30 p.m. until 4:45 p.m. I
was rooting for big, fat Phil Mickelson - kindred spirit - my brotha in weightiness. Bet I didn’t miss more than an hour of the tournament by being
asleep. Lily sat with me for a few minutes and watched too. Said I drove her away by snoring. I deny that.”
I paused for the little laugh, but this audience just waited silently for me to go on.
“Lily and I drove to soccer practice at about 10 minutes ‘til 5:00 p.m. I know this because I missed the end of the Phoenix Open to get to
soccer practice. Big fat Phil won, by the way. We had soccer practice with all 13 of my 12 year old girls, the Pink Ponies, present and
accounted for at 5:00 p.m. We have a big game tomorrow afternoon. We practiced until 6:58 p.m. because another team had the field at 7:00
p. m. Allison’s mom was late picking her up. Lily and I waited with her until 7:10 or 7:15 p.m. when her ride finally came. I called Lola on the cell
phone. Then Lily and I met her over at Chili’s, must have been 7:30 p.m. by then. I had a Bleu Cheese Chipotle Burger; Lola had a Caribbean
salad, well, most of it. I finished it. Lily polished off most of her chicken quesadillas. I did have a little of hers as well. All three of us were
blimped out. Don’t let these very slimming sweats fool you, I’m a smidgen overweight.”
Stonefaces. My best 4:00 a.m. stuff ever. Unfortunately, this was about as good as my material ever got and I was gettin’ nothin’.
“Lola and Lily went home from there together in Lola’s car. I stopped by Bodie’s before coming home. Got there at 8:40 p.m. or so.
Spent twenty or twenty five minutes with Bodie. He seemed good and I left for home. It took ten minutes to get home from there, so it was
about 9:15 p.m. I kissed my girls for a few minutes because Lily had showered by then and was clean. I giggled with them because I was still
stinky from practice and dressed in a pink polo shirt under my sweatshirt. They thought I was nuts to wear my official Pink Ponies coaching shirt
to just practice when a sweatshirt and a jacket covered it, ‘cause nobody could see it anyway. They both love it when I’m a fashion idiot. That’s
pretty much all the time. How come you guys aren’t writing this down? At least take some notes, huh?”
None of the three even twitched.
Maybe I was still dreaming.
“Okay. Before showering, I helped to tackle sixth grade Government homework, very successfully I might add, until at least 10:20 p.m. I
know that because I was frustrated to have missed the weather - again. I always miss the weather. Tonight’s Government lessons did not cover
the current police state of Ft. Worth, Texas. That’s probably a 7th grade class all to itself. Then I showered - with Lola.”
Lola rolled her eyes and blushed, looking away from the officers.
“We watched Ebert and Roeper review movies, or sorta did. Lola woke me twice and said I was snoring. Denied it then and still deny it.”
Now Lola smiled.
“Made love with my wife after she woke me up the second time. As you can readily see, I am irresistible.”
Lola was no longer smiling.
“It must have thundered during the night because Lily came into our bed and that’s the only time she ever comes in anymore. I didn’t hear
Lily or the thunder or anything else. Fifteen minutes ago I was dreaming of a big, giant ugly ogre bothering my family and the next thing I know,
you’ve got these two Chewbacas in my entry, so I guess dreams really can come true.”
Now I stared at Angela, boring a hole right through her head with my best laser eyes.
It was extra-double quiet. Nobody said anything.
Wait for it. Wait.
“Sorry, Jerry. Just doing our job,” said Angela.
There’s my opening.
“Really, Angela? Were you thinking, ‘Hey, this guy is a huge flight risk so let’s roust him and his family at 4:00 a.m.? Hurry before any
flights to Costa Rica leave D.F.W. or before he hops on his private jet. We are sure he’s been hiding his plane from his family and from us
because - that’s our job?’”
I gave her little quote marks in the air with both hands. I had worked myself into a nice tizzy now. Angela looked at the floor. I got her on
the ropes. Now finish her off.
“Come on, Angela. It’s not like you don’t know me. What’s the damn deal?”
Angela gave me nothing, as usual.
“Have you talked to her runt of a husband, Warren?” I demanded. “That bastard would sleep with a dipsy-dumpster if it had big boobs.”
“We will,” said Angela.
“Oh, but I was your leading suspect? You guys better paste it together! Her husband needed her dead to pursue the new, even hotter
girlfriend than the last hot girlfriend. Now, get out of here so my family can finish sleeping.” I actually made a shooing motion at them. “Please be
careful on the drawbridge on your way out.”
One of the uniformed storm troopers sneered at me. He was just mad I had compared him to an ugly ogre. Hey, if the shoe fits.
“I’ll need to talk to you later this morning, Jerry. Call me before 10:00 a.m. at work,” said Angela.
She had remained completely even-tempered through all my smart-ass-ness, but she always does.
A winter rainstorm was pummeling Ft. Worth, Texas, Sunday night, January 30. Lola and I had fallen asleep to the rain drumming the wood
shingle roof of our little house. Our twelve year old daughter, Lily, had come in sometime later and crawled in bed with us, probably mere
minutes after thunder began shaking the earth. Not that I noticed.
I was flying without the assistance of any visible help when an empty, wispy white face shaded by a black hood and flowing black cape rose up
in front of me. One giant, ominously clawed hand was wrapped around my wife, Lola, and the other held Lily. Each of them was fighting to free
themselves from the unidentified evil. As I started flying toward this insidious creature, the phone rang.
No, it was really ringing.
I only dropped the receiver once before mumbling, “Jerry, uh, Wilson.”
“Jerry Wilson? This is Angela Delano, Ft. Worth Police Department. Jerry? You there?”
“Mmm, Angela? Really? Who?”
“Jerry, would you please come downstairs? I’m outside at your front door right now.”
I could tell it was still dark outside.
“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Is everything okay? Uh. Be right there.” I was barely coherent. Why do I always pretend to be awake whenever
taking a phone call in the middle of the night as if the caller can’t tell I’m asleep? I hung up and pulled on sweat pants as I headed for the stairs. I
already had on a T-shirt and boxers, thank goodness. The clock by the bed showed 4:18 a.m. It was sort-of Monday morning.
Lola sat up and asked quietly, “Jerry, you alright?”
“Yeah, hon. Go back to sleep.” Next to her, Lily did not stir.
At the front door I checked the peephole. Maybe I was still dreaming. Nope. There was Angela and two big, young, Caucasian brutes in
uniform. I opened the deadlock, turned the knob and pulled the door open. The rain had stopped, but it was cold and wet outside.
“Come on in Detective. Everything alright?”
All three stepped into the entry. Through my grogginess every noise seemed magnified, all loud thumps and wet whomps.
“No. It is not, Jerry. Do you have a client by the name of Joanne Duchtin?” asked Angela.
“Uh, yeah. Why?” I replied. Lola had pulled on a robe and come down behind me.
“She turned up dead tonight. Murdered,” said Angela. All three watched me expectantly as she said the words. Lola gasped out loud
behind me.
“Man. What happened? How was she killed?” I was stunned, but only by the hour. It didn’t surprise me one bit that Joanne had been
murdered. Joanne Duchtin lived a very fast life in the nouveau riches circles of Ft. Worth with her slimy-built-like-a-fire-hydrant and look like a
thieving-used-car-salesman husband, Warren. My feet were cold. Lola’s grip tightened on my shoulder.
“Tell us where you were from noon yesterday to now, Jerry,” said Angela. Lola released her grip and moved around to where she could
see my face.
“What is it, four in the morning? Get serious Angela. I’ve got no reason to kill Joanne. She was current on her bills.”
Not amused by my normal smart-ass approach, all three police officers said nothing, held my stare and waited. I could tell this was not patient
waiting.
“Okay, fine.” Now, I was starting to get hacked off. “Noon? All three of us were still at church at University Christian. We all left
together at nearly 1:00 p.m. after cleaning up the Activities Center with two other families. This simply amounted to stacking the folding chairs
and running the vacuum. We went to Luby’s Cafeteria for Sunday dinner arriving there about 1:20 p.m. I had the LuAnn Platter, don’t
remember what Lola had, Lily ate macaroni and cheese and red Jell-O. We went straight from Luby’s to this castle of a mansion that you
currently harass me in at 2:00 p.m. We all changed clothes and I cleaned the gutters in front per Lola’s instructions. She said it might rain and
that I had been promising to clean them for six weeks. I swear it hadn’t been more than four weeks. Cold weather makes me not want to clean
gutters. So, be sure to add that to any other charges you’ve got brewing. I watched the Phoenix Open on TV from 3:30 p.m. until 4:45 p.m. I
was rooting for big, fat Phil Mickelson - kindred spirit - my brotha in weightiness. Bet I didn’t miss more than an hour of the tournament by being
asleep. Lily sat with me for a few minutes and watched too. Said I drove her away by snoring. I deny that.”
I paused for the little laugh, but this audience just waited silently for me to go on.
“Lily and I drove to soccer practice at about 10 minutes ‘til 5:00 p.m. I know this because I missed the end of the Phoenix Open to get to
soccer practice. Big fat Phil won, by the way. We had soccer practice with all 13 of my 12 year old girls, the Pink Ponies, present and
accounted for at 5:00 p.m. We have a big game tomorrow afternoon. We practiced until 6:58 p.m. because another team had the field at 7:00
p. m. Allison’s mom was late picking her up. Lily and I waited with her until 7:10 or 7:15 p.m. when her ride finally came. I called Lola on the cell
phone. Then Lily and I met her over at Chili’s, must have been 7:30 p.m. by then. I had a Bleu Cheese Chipotle Burger; Lola had a Caribbean
salad, well, most of it. I finished it. Lily polished off most of her chicken quesadillas. I did have a little of hers as well. All three of us were
blimped out. Don’t let these very slimming sweats fool you, I’m a smidgen overweight.”
Stonefaces. My best 4:00 a.m. stuff ever. Unfortunately, this was about as good as my material ever got and I was gettin’ nothin’.
“Lola and Lily went home from there together in Lola’s car. I stopped by Bodie’s before coming home. Got there at 8:40 p.m. or so.
Spent twenty or twenty five minutes with Bodie. He seemed good and I left for home. It took ten minutes to get home from there, so it was
about 9:15 p.m. I kissed my girls for a few minutes because Lily had showered by then and was clean. I giggled with them because I was still
stinky from practice and dressed in a pink polo shirt under my sweatshirt. They thought I was nuts to wear my official Pink Ponies coaching shirt
to just practice when a sweatshirt and a jacket covered it, ‘cause nobody could see it anyway. They both love it when I’m a fashion idiot. That’s
pretty much all the time. How come you guys aren’t writing this down? At least take some notes, huh?”
None of the three even twitched.
Maybe I was still dreaming.
“Okay. Before showering, I helped to tackle sixth grade Government homework, very successfully I might add, until at least 10:20 p.m. I
know that because I was frustrated to have missed the weather - again. I always miss the weather. Tonight’s Government lessons did not cover
the current police state of Ft. Worth, Texas. That’s probably a 7th grade class all to itself. Then I showered - with Lola.”
Lola rolled her eyes and blushed, looking away from the officers.
“We watched Ebert and Roeper review movies, or sorta did. Lola woke me twice and said I was snoring. Denied it then and still deny it.”
Now Lola smiled.
“Made love with my wife after she woke me up the second time. As you can readily see, I am irresistible.”
Lola was no longer smiling.
“It must have thundered during the night because Lily came into our bed and that’s the only time she ever comes in anymore. I didn’t hear
Lily or the thunder or anything else. Fifteen minutes ago I was dreaming of a big, giant ugly ogre bothering my family and the next thing I know,
you’ve got these two Chewbacas in my entry, so I guess dreams really can come true.”
Now I stared at Angela, boring a hole right through her head with my best laser eyes.
It was extra-double quiet. Nobody said anything.
Wait for it. Wait.
“Sorry, Jerry. Just doing our job,” said Angela.
There’s my opening.
“Really, Angela? Were you thinking, ‘Hey, this guy is a huge flight risk so let’s roust him and his family at 4:00 a.m.? Hurry before any
flights to Costa Rica leave D.F.W. or before he hops on his private jet. We are sure he’s been hiding his plane from his family and from us
because - that’s our job?’”
I gave her little quote marks in the air with both hands. I had worked myself into a nice tizzy now. Angela looked at the floor. I got her on
the ropes. Now finish her off.
“Come on, Angela. It’s not like you don’t know me. What’s the damn deal?”
Angela gave me nothing, as usual.
“Have you talked to her runt of a husband, Warren?” I demanded. “That bastard would sleep with a dipsy-dumpster if it had big boobs.”
“We will,” said Angela.
“Oh, but I was your leading suspect? You guys better paste it together! Her husband needed her dead to pursue the new, even hotter
girlfriend than the last hot girlfriend. Now, get out of here so my family can finish sleeping.” I actually made a shooing motion at them. “Please be
careful on the drawbridge on your way out.”
One of the uniformed storm troopers sneered at me. He was just mad I had compared him to an ugly ogre. Hey, if the shoe fits.
“I’ll need to talk to you later this morning, Jerry. Call me before 10:00 a.m. at work,” said Angela.
She had remained completely even-tempered through all my smart-ass-ness, but she always does.
Hope you want to read more. copyright 2006 by Eric Luck
Eric
Eric
| ericluck.net Eric Luck, the website The Book Rule Number 1: You cannot go wrong with a naked lady on the cover. World HQ for self-promotion on the www |
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“This book was very, very good. It was a fun story.
This is a great read with terrific characters.”
“…couldn’t stop reading.”
“…had to know what would happen.”
“I like Jerry and I hate that Warren Duchtin. What a weasel.”
“Are there really women like Ms. Blondielegs in Ft. Worth, Texas?”
Peter Gaudet, Fairfield, California
“A compelling read...kept my interest to the end.”
”Fascinating and startling characters...”
”Luck's style of writing is intelligent and witty.”
Rayelynn Dady, Richardson, Texas
“...a very entertaining read.”
“…Eric manages to weave a good tale…a good story.”
P. J. Lawton, author of “Lethal Option”,
ISBN 1-4137-7930-1, www.freewebs.com/pjlawton/
from my niece, Amanda:
Uncle Eric,
Well…I finally did it! I am graduating from college! Wooo Whooo! Only took me 6 years! =) Or as I like to call it….2
victory laps…(I think you were the one that told me that one). Well I was kinda busy doing some other “stuff” for the past
few years too….seeing if we could get that Bin Laden guy.
This has been the first time in what feels like forever that I have been able to sit down and read a book I actually WANTED
to read, instead of a text I HAD to read. So…naturally, I bee lined for your book and I am reading Most Fortunate Son.
Honest critique…..it started a little slow for me. But, then again…for like a week I was reading one page and then
passing out (probably catching up on all that sleep I lost in the past 6 years). Once I reached Chapter 3, I couldn’t put it
down. I am halfway through already and loving every minute of it. It’s awesome! I am on a mission right now and currently
we are getting some crew rest in Charleston, SC. I read your book the whole way here last night. We are headed to
Europe next and then onto the wonderful desert. Keep us in your prayers. They still don’t like us infidels and like to pop
off some rounds after dinner at that big noisy beast in the sky. Ok…so I have only a few things about the book I don’t like
so far. The “landing strip” comment on BlondieLegs…eww! My delightful Uncle Eric wrote this. In any other novel it
would have been read over with a chuckle and moved right passed, but my Uncle Eric wrote this. He’s not suppose to
think like that….and I don’t know who represents who in this book, but if Aunt Cheri has a peach silk nightgown…I don’t
ever want to know. TMI! The f-bomb was a little gasper for
me too. Again…its only because my Uncle Eric wrote this and not some guy I don’t know. Otherwise…its great. I can't
wait to see what Jerry uncovers as I fly over Baghdad. I may even be done before then. =) I love it. Its great. Fix your
computer so we can all read the 2nd novel…..just no peach nightgowns and landing strips. =)
Cheers,
Amanda
This is a great read with terrific characters.”
“…couldn’t stop reading.”
“…had to know what would happen.”
“I like Jerry and I hate that Warren Duchtin. What a weasel.”
“Are there really women like Ms. Blondielegs in Ft. Worth, Texas?”
Peter Gaudet, Fairfield, California
“A compelling read...kept my interest to the end.”
”Fascinating and startling characters...”
”Luck's style of writing is intelligent and witty.”
Rayelynn Dady, Richardson, Texas
“...a very entertaining read.”
“…Eric manages to weave a good tale…a good story.”
P. J. Lawton, author of “Lethal Option”,
ISBN 1-4137-7930-1, www.freewebs.com/pjlawton/
from my niece, Amanda:
Uncle Eric,
Well…I finally did it! I am graduating from college! Wooo Whooo! Only took me 6 years! =) Or as I like to call it….2
victory laps…(I think you were the one that told me that one). Well I was kinda busy doing some other “stuff” for the past
few years too….seeing if we could get that Bin Laden guy.
This has been the first time in what feels like forever that I have been able to sit down and read a book I actually WANTED
to read, instead of a text I HAD to read. So…naturally, I bee lined for your book and I am reading Most Fortunate Son.
Honest critique…..it started a little slow for me. But, then again…for like a week I was reading one page and then
passing out (probably catching up on all that sleep I lost in the past 6 years). Once I reached Chapter 3, I couldn’t put it
down. I am halfway through already and loving every minute of it. It’s awesome! I am on a mission right now and currently
we are getting some crew rest in Charleston, SC. I read your book the whole way here last night. We are headed to
Europe next and then onto the wonderful desert. Keep us in your prayers. They still don’t like us infidels and like to pop
off some rounds after dinner at that big noisy beast in the sky. Ok…so I have only a few things about the book I don’t like
so far. The “landing strip” comment on BlondieLegs…eww! My delightful Uncle Eric wrote this. In any other novel it
would have been read over with a chuckle and moved right passed, but my Uncle Eric wrote this. He’s not suppose to
think like that….and I don’t know who represents who in this book, but if Aunt Cheri has a peach silk nightgown…I don’t
ever want to know. TMI! The f-bomb was a little gasper for
me too. Again…its only because my Uncle Eric wrote this and not some guy I don’t know. Otherwise…its great. I can't
wait to see what Jerry uncovers as I fly over Baghdad. I may even be done before then. =) I love it. Its great. Fix your
computer so we can all read the 2nd novel…..just no peach nightgowns and landing strips. =)
Cheers,
Amanda
Flickr has introduced me to some amazing photographers and people, especially in and
around Dallas/Ft. Worth. I've met consultants, creative directors, managers, designers, real
photographers, teachers, architects, programmers, project managers, business dudes like
me, etc.
One of the people I've been most fortunate -- similarity to the book title above intended -- to
meet is a man named Eric Luck, who authored the fiction novel above. Not only is Eric very
laid back with a sense of humor very close to mine (which of course I dig), but he gets that
life is something to be celebrated and observed. In other words, he's got perspective.
In any case, Eric sent this book to me after we talked and shot images together one night,
and I have finally finished this fine piece of work. If you're from the area, which most of you
reading this probably are, you'll love the Texas-isms. Even if you're not from the area,
there's intrigue, suspense, family, internal/external conflicts, and a great story about love,
history, and friendship.
All gooood stuff, and I am not surprised at its source given my time with E. Great job, pal.
Thanks for sharing your work.
Jason Silverstein, Dallas, Texas
around Dallas/Ft. Worth. I've met consultants, creative directors, managers, designers, real
photographers, teachers, architects, programmers, project managers, business dudes like
me, etc.
One of the people I've been most fortunate -- similarity to the book title above intended -- to
meet is a man named Eric Luck, who authored the fiction novel above. Not only is Eric very
laid back with a sense of humor very close to mine (which of course I dig), but he gets that
life is something to be celebrated and observed. In other words, he's got perspective.
In any case, Eric sent this book to me after we talked and shot images together one night,
and I have finally finished this fine piece of work. If you're from the area, which most of you
reading this probably are, you'll love the Texas-isms. Even if you're not from the area,
there's intrigue, suspense, family, internal/external conflicts, and a great story about love,
history, and friendship.
All gooood stuff, and I am not surprised at its source given my time with E. Great job, pal.
Thanks for sharing your work.
Jason Silverstein, Dallas, Texas
Photo by Anne De Haas, Toronto, Canada
Photo by Jason Sliverstein, Dallas, Texas