Truer Words Were Never Spoken

Fake friends never ask for food. Real friends are the reason why u have no food. Fake friends call your parents mr/mrs. Real friends call your parents mom/dad. Fake friends bail u out of jail and tell u wat u did was wrong. Real friends would sit next to u sayin. . "Dam. . We fucked up. . But that shit was fun! Fake friends hav never seen u cry. Real friends cry with u. Fake friends will leave u behind if thats wat the crowd is doing. Real friends will kick the whole crowds ass that left u. Fake friends are for awhile. Real friends are for life. Fake friends will talk shit to the person who talks shit about u. Real friends will knock them the fuck out.


We have all been there at one point in our lives, crossroads. Some by choice, others, without warning, all life changing. It’s what we do when we come to these crossroads that will haunt us forever.
Two little words, a question really, so tiny yet so powerful, powerful enough to tear us apart at times. What if? What if I did this instead of that? What if I had just said what they wanted to hear? What if, what if, what if?
Then there are those crossroads that we have no control over, decisions made for us by other people. Do we blame others for the outcome of our lives? Do we hold on to the anger that can consume us or let it go and say thank you?
Things happen, shit happens, ultimately LIFE happens. Do we say it’s Fate or Destiny, two cold hearted bitches that could care less what we feel, and just accept that there is no changing what has happened? Do you make a deal with the devil to get what you want, after all crossroads is where he resides?
We all handle these crossroads differently. We step up; feel the tingle in the middle of our back as a blanket of coldness surrounds us. We take a deep breath and hope we make the right decision or the right decision has been made for us.
We look through the looking glass and see two futures, one we will live and one we could have lived as a tiny voice whispers, “Welcome to another crossroads. Ha ha ha ha…”



Do you know who you are?
Who you are meant to be?
Do you know where you’re going?
What you want to see?

Are you just here?
Or do you have a plan?
Will you go it alone?
Will you hold someone’s hand?

Will you rock it out loud?
Will you read about it on a Dell?
Will you be at peace in heaven?
Will you kick it hard in hell?

Nature has a plan,
Soak up the sun.
Will you burn out with the masses?
Or will you stand up and be the ONE!



Where are the slaps on soap operas? Seriously, back in the 80’s and 90’s you have day time and night time soaps that everyone watched. If you honestly don’t think Dallas, Dynasty, 90210, or Melrose Place were NOT soaps think again.
The one thing about all those soaps was that, for the day time soaps that came out five days a week, some got slapped at least once a week. I’m not talking light love taps, I’m talking the kind of slaps that you could feel it through your TV and you were rooting for it to happen.
For those night time soaps, with the exception of Dynasty, someone got slapped at least once a month, since it only aired four times a month they could not do it every show.
Dynasty had someone getting slapped ALL the time. In fact there were drinking games made just for someone getting slapped in that show. Every time someone got slapped you took a shot and whoever was not passed out by the end of the show won.
Slapping in soaps use to be an art form. I know a few women in my family who must have taken lessons from Susan Lucci. Come on, you ALL know she was the first person who popped in your head when you started reading this article. She coined the term “Bitch Slap.” If not for her soaps would have been boring.
Anyways, as I watch my soaps, one that I use to watch with my mother, who has since given up soaps but back in the day you should tell you about them all, well her and my aunts, love you ladies, I notice that no one gets slapped anymore. I have seen a couple of bad right hooks by the guys but the women, come on, where the heck are the slaps. The tension is so high that I find myself shouting at the tube, SLAP HER! DO IT! SLAP HER ALREADY!!! only to see them walk away.
I’m probably gonna get slapped for writing this but hey, if I can get it on film and send it to the soap people MAYBE they can bring back why people use to watch those shows to begin with, the drama, of slapping people.

Max M. Power

P.S. Yes I do watch Young and the Restless and I blame the women in my life for getting me hooked. It’s like the Godfather III, “Just when I thought I was out they pull me back in.”

Another Book Signing

I will be joining a VERY talented writer this Saturday, Dorlana Vann, as she signs copies of her book "Death: Passage to Mesentia and Jaclyn's Ghost" at Read it Again & Again Book Store in Houston, from 12pm to 3pm. If you can please join us. I will be signing copies of “The Story Teller: A Roller Coaster for Your Mind.”

A Fairy Tale Awaits

A Fairy Tale Awaits

Where is my princess?
My damsel in distress?
Where is the love of my life?
To find her I am hard press.

Where is my prince?
Someone for me to hold?
Where is my white knight?
He is going to find me, so I am told.

I’m on a quest,
Hoping someday I will find you.
I want to make you my queen,
To bring pleasure to all that you do.

I am waiting,
My dear Prince.
Will you be my king?
We shall share a love with no fence.

Max M. Power

Thought of the Day 08-21-09

This one is a real puzzler. I'm still scrathing my head on this one: If a turtle doesn't have a shell is he homeless or naked?


I have been debating on whether or not I should do this but since you are reading this I guess it means I won my debate, or lost it, depending on how you look at it since it was a debate with myself.
Okay on to why I’m sending this little email. I am trying to grow my new blog and to get more readers. As a result I am going to hold a contest that will end on September 1st.
To the person who gets the most people to visit my blog and subscribe to it will receive every book I ever write free for life. When the first printing comes out you will be sent an autograph copy before anyone else can buy a book.
Here are the rules, they must go to my blog, and subscribe. There are two ways to subscribe, both are listed on the blog. After they have subscribed they can send an email to me at and tell me in the subject line who sent them to my blog.
That’s it. It’s pretty simple. You can forward this email, rewrite it, however it is you want to let people know about it. Every person who sends someone my way will receive a free gift.
Thank you in advance for all your support.

Process of a Writer

Process of a Writer

One thing I am always asked as a writer is how do you write? What is your process? To be honest, I don’t have one. I have tried to have a process but a PROCESS just does not work for me. I guess not having a process IS my process.
I’m one of these people that lives in chaos. Most artist are really, if you think about it. There is no logic to my thoughts, there is no pattern I can follow. It’s a flaw that you must all live with, I are simply complex.
I have always considered myself to be a simpleton. I like certain things and that suits me just fine, I’m in my own little geekdom and I’m good. Everything is normal in my world. Now an outside takes one looks and thinks WTF!!!
I need chaos, it’s the only way I can think straight. Here’s the twisted part though, to you it may look like chaos but to me, it’s perfectly normal. Take my bedroom as an example. I have things laid out, papers here and there, looks a mess right, but at least I KNEW where every single thing I needed or wanted was. My mom comes in and “cleans” my room and I freak out. I don’t know where anything is and I go into panic mode. I want to scream.
Yes I was like that as a teenager and having to share a room with my brother, yea, that didn’t help me much either. I’m still the same way today. My chaos looking area is my Zen, don’t mess with it or I will have to destroy you, this I will do.
Okay so far I have been proving my point, this was suppose to be about my PROCESS as a writer and here I am off topic. That is EXACTLY how it is with my writing. I have all these ideas in my head and they are swirling around in my skull like a tornado through a trailer park, it’s not a very pretty aftermath.
Just as a tornado will suck up new things and spits out old ones, that’s how my mind works. I spit out old ideas onto paper, thinking I’m cleaning out some of that clutter in my brain and WHAM, I just sucked up a house and everything in it. Now I have to make notes on the new things so I won’t forget them.
So as I sit in front of my screen, pounding away at the keys things can come out fast, the tornado causing some good damage as it zips along and then all of a sudden I stall, I can’t even make out the letters anymore. I look up and see a cow fly by, blink in wonderment as I see a second cow, only to be told that it’s the same cow being moved back. Are you saying WOW yet?
For this reason I ALWAYS have paper and pen close by. When my ideas stall it’s only a matter of time before the powers that be throw me back into a whirl wind and whatever thought I had before, I can kiss it bye-bye for a while because something new will pop in my head and I have to get that out next.
Okay, take a breath, I know it’s hard to keep up with my mind unless you are use to it and even if you ARE use to it, it’s still tiresome. Can you tell that my mind has stalled out twice while writing this? If not let me tell you it just happened again, that’s three. Come on, gotta admit that was funny.
Bottom line here, my mind jumps around and all I can do is make sure that my parachute is packed properly. I don’t want to end up like some coyote off a cliff, SPLAT!!! I will say this, one of my favorite movies is a movie called Alex & Emma. If you have not seen it then by all means rent it, heck buy it, its soooooo funny. Trust me you will watch that movie and go, so that’s what Max was taking about. It’s crazy, it’s wild, it’s how I work. Nothing is in order as it’s being written. When it’s on paper it gets changed, changed, and then changed some more.
Hope this was helpful as to my process or if nothing else, put a huge smile on your face as you scratch your head and go HUH?? Comments please, I beg of you, okay I’m asking nicely at least.

Revolving Door

Revolving Door

Why am I a revolving door?
Treated badly and ignored.
I don’t want to be,
But this is how everyone sees me.

Why am I a revolving door?
Kicked hard when I’m down on the floor.
I can be a nerd, dork, and geek,
But somehow you see this as weak.

Why am I a revolving door?
I just want to give you all you want and more.
In and out of my life you go,
Hurting me very very slow.

Why am I a revolving door?
My soul is in pain, sore.
Do you hate me deep down in your core?
Tell me why am I a revolving door?

Max M. Power

Aeros Dynamics

I just spent the night looking at all the hockey teams in the AHL, just to see what’s going on in the league. I seen some team include their cheerleaders and some did not. I’m a guy so NATURALLY I looked. Call me bias, call me a typical guy, all I have to say is HOUSTON has the best looking cheerleaders in the entire league. Way to go Aeros Dynamics.

My Interview

When I took creative writing in college one of the assignments I was given was to conduct an interview with myself. An interesting idea but one I never did, until now. The following is an interview I did with myself.

Sitting down with Max one of the first things you notice is a bookshelf that is so full it is overflowing. A very good mixture of books and DVDs. Seems like that bookcase holds a lot of value to Max. It seemed like a good place to start the interview.
You have just as many books as you do DVDs, is there a reason for that? Yes. I love to read. I have been collecting books since the days of SEE SPOT RUN. RUN SPOT RUN. Ha, ha I can still see that little panda running.
So you have books from your childhood? Not anymore. The closet thing I have to a book from my childhood is a book that I bought for my daughter that I use to love as a kid.
I see you have a wide range of books. What is your favorite? I have two but for different reasons. My favorite book for the story is Cracker Jackson by Betsy Byars. That was a book I read over and over. You can tell which books I have read more than once, the front cover is torn apart and the back cover is missing completely.
Star Wars, without a doubt is the second. I am a huge Star Wars fan. My favorite book is a gift I received. Even though I had the original Star Wars trilogy in paperback my nephew bought me a hard back copy while he was out of town for a medical conference. For some reason he kind of ambushed George Lucas at a book store and asked him for his autograph, for me. That is my prize possession.
I bought my first Star Wars book for a quarter when I was fourteen at a garage sale. The cover was torn and falling apart but I loved it. I read it over and over so much I broke the spine and held it together with tape. That was the first of many Star Wars books to come.
But I only see three Star Wars books. I have some comic books in the back but that’s all I have left.
Have left? At one time I had almost had every book printed of Star Wars from the time I was fourteen till I was twenty. Then I started working two jobs and going to school and I did not have the time or money to keep up. I actually had over thirty books then Tropical Storm Allison hit Houston and I lost most of my books.
So you had more than what you have now? Yes. I only have a third of the books I had as a teenager.
Okay, so you like books. Where did you first get started? My grandmother, my mom’s mom. She got me started reading. I remember in elementary the teachers use to order books from a placed called TROLL. My parents would order a book or two every three months. Grandma came for a visit and then started sending my mom money so my brother and I could buy books to read, even if it was just comic books. As long as I was reading that’s all that mattered.
Is there anyone that you are currently reading now? Yes. I read an interview in Writer’s Digest with Laurell K. Hamilton. Afterwards I just had to read her Anita Blake Vampire Hunter series. I am getting ready to start book number three.
What about all the movies you have? What can I say; I’m a big movie buff. Movies are nothing but stories told the old fashion way, with passion that makes people talk, sometimes for years to come.
Speaking of stories being told, you call yourself a story teller, what do you mean by that? Sometimes I feel like I was born in the wrong time period. In medieval times the common people could not read or write. History and basic entertainment was passed down by telling stories. These story tellers kept the attention of any who would listen.
I firmly believe that the art of being able to tell a story and hold someone’s attention is dying. True, some writers can write a book that is over five hundred pages and have every little detail present but they can not hold someone’s attention, well at least not mine. I hear it all the time, people have to force themselves to read through something that is boring just to get to what is said to be the juicy part of the books. I, myself, am guilty of having to force read through something because I do not want to just give up the book. My goal and hope is that my readers do not feel that way about my work.
Let’s talk about your writing career. In your author bio you say you wrote your first poem for a girl. Tell us about that. I am a shy person. I can hear the moans now about how out spoken I am but it’s true, sometimes I am very shy, to the point of blushing. Her name was Anita and she lived in my neighborhood, on the opposite side of the neighborhood but still within walking distance. We went to middle school together. I had the biggest crush on her and when we went to high school we separated. I went to one magnet school and she went to another.
At the end of summer before school started I went over to her house and we hung out for the day. I gave her the poem that I wrote while I was walking to her house and she hugged me and told me that I was sweet but she liked girls. I was crushed, my young heart was broken, and I wrote another poem. I hated her for breaking my heart. Two years later I saw her at the grocery store and we talked. We stayed friends until our senior year.
After you wrote those first two poems, is that when you knew you would become a writer? God no. To be honest I hated to write. I wrote poetry to girls because I wanted to be liked and I knew girls liked poetry. If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach then the way to a woman’s heart is through poetry. But FATE was not so kind to me. It never worked. Sure girls wanted me to write poems for them and guys asked me to write poems for their girlfriends but it never brought love to me. It was kind of like a double edge sword, I hated to write but it’s what was asked of me.
So when did you want to become a writer? Actually I never wanted to be a writer; I wanted to be a pilot. I had an English teacher my junior year that pushed me to write, in turn making me hate it more. In class we had to write an essay a week but I had to write three. With my father being a school teacher himself I was not allowed to challenge a teacher giving extra school work.
One day after class I pleaded the teacher to stop. I felt like she had been picking on me all year, giving me extra assignments and then always reading them out loud in class. She sat me down and told me that I was a writer and I should not fight it. I told her I wanted to be a pilot and that was my life goal. She did not want to push so she agreed to stop. Before she let me go she told me that someday I would embrace my writing. Something would happen to me and the flood gates would open up and my story would come out. She was right.
So you owe your writing career to this teacher? Yes and no. I feel I owe my writing career to two people actually. Mrs. Jones, my English teacher, for planting the seed in my head. The second is Tyra Banks.
Tyra Banks the supermodel? Yes
How do you owe your writing career to Tyra Banks? Well it’s an interesting story. Mrs. Jones said something would happen to me and that something was the attacks of 9/11. I was working at the airport as a ramp rat on the private terminal and remember how hectic that day was. I started writing a story and it was very rough getting started. I was starting to get discouraged and was about to stop writing.
One day I saw a commercial for the upcoming Tyra Banks show. Tyra was standing in front of her childhood home and telling her story. At the end of the commercial Tyra said, “That’s my story. What’s yours?” Those five words hit me hard. No one had ever asked ME what my story was. Granted, Tyra was not talking to me directly but those five words woke something up inside of me and the flood gates opened up inside me. I found my story and it poured out of me.
I have some questions from people your fans. Are you up to answering some fan fair questions? Sure. I’m up for it.
First question, where do you plan on taking your life over the next ten to twenty years? That’s really hard for me to answer. When I was in high school I did not think I would make it to graduation. When I graduated I did not think I would make it to the year 2000. Y2K, what a scare. There is always something that is suppose to end life as we know it so I don’t tend to plan that far in advance.
What would be nice is if in ten years I no longer have to work full time. Writing can be my full time job and I can make enough money to get a good home and take care of my family.
You mentioned your full time job. Security is a big leap from writer, why did you choose security as your profession? I didn’t choose security as my profession, it chose me. Right out of high school I joined the AmeriCorps that President Clinton set up. After one year in the Corps I was given money for college so I started flight school at San Jacinto College and flew out of Ellington Field. While in flight school I needed a job that was not demanding so I got a job working nights as security. I was at an apartment complex and was shot at so I quit.
Four years later I lost my job and no one was really hiring. I had two choices, flip burgers or go back to security. I figured if I was going to get shot at then I need to be able to shoot back so I went to school to get my commission. I became a natural at it. I worked to pay the bills but soon I was wanted and requested. I was good at my job or I should say I am good at my job. Now I have job security, no pun intended.
Speaking of job security, what do you think of the current political/economic crisis in our country? I try not to. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the argument of if you don’t vote you have no right to complain but if I really felt my vote counted then I might vote. Politics is a topic I don’t get into much because I am very passionate about it and passion has a way of becoming heated.
We are in a bad fix right now and all I can do is try to take care of my family. Economics has never been my strong suit but then again, the economy has always been a roller coaster that none of us can get off of. Every roller coaster has its ups and downs so I am along for the ride.
So will anything change in the way you spend money or vote? Actually it has. My spending in a way has increased, not decreased. We are on this planet for a short time and whatever we gather here we can not take it with us. I firmly believe that good deeds will be rewarded. I am trying to do good now while things are bad so when they are good again I know they will stay good.
As far as voting, I will not be voting this time around either. I have my reasons and before anyone says anything negative about voting, I know all the arguments. I have the right not to cast my vote just as others have the right to cast their vote. Now if Jessie “The Body” Ventura was to run for president that is someone I would actually go out and vote for. That man has been more level headed and honest then most people I have ever seen running for any office.
Let’s get back to your writing. Why do you write? I write primarily because I am a passionate person. Writing is a good way to channel that passion. I have an active imagination and it’s kind of like seeing a mini movie in my mind. I write down what I see and that is how I get my stories.
Some of your writing can get pretty dark. What goes on in your mind when you write about your dark topics? Does writing about dark topics lighten or darken your mood? Yes I can get pretty dark. I even scare myself sometimes. Growing up I always struggled with depression, not knowing what it was. Later on in life I found out that depression runs in my family and that the demons I had been battling all my life, I was not alone. Sometimes those demons can come on pretty strong, writing what I’m feeling helps me to deal with it. I guess you can say the darker I write the lighter my mood gets. Don’t worry though, the truly dark stuff I keep to myself.
Okay, writing dark materials makes your mood lighter. How do you create your characters? What is your inspiration? My inspiration can come from anywhere. A show, a movie, kids playing, the rain, the zoo, nature. Sometimes I hear a story and try to put my own spin or twist on it. The one thing that is consistent in my inspiration is passion. No matter what I do, it is done with passion and conviction.
As far as creating characters, they create themselves. I know that may not make sense but like I said before I watch their story unfold and write it down. People ask me all the time what is going to happen next in the story and the funny thing is, I don’t know. I look at it this way, if I want my stories to sell then my characters need to live and breathe. They need to be someone others can love or love to hate. They need to be real and like real people things can change at a whim.
Do you still have anything from your early high school days? If you do, what is the earliest you have? Yes I do. I still have a lot of my poems from high school. You can tell they are my early work because they are very raw and rough.
So you have been writing for a long time now, how do you write? What are your rituals? Haha, ritual, that’s good. I have no rituals say for one, I have to write everything down on paper first. A notepad and pen go with me everywhere cause you never know when an idea can strike and if I don’t write it down right away I could lose it. After I have written it down on paper I type it on the computer.
So what do you do with your drafts after you type them? I destroy them. I know a lot of writers keep that stuff around or keep a journal but I honestly do not see the need. Whatever notes and changes I make they are my own. The final draft is my gift to my readers. I want people to talk about my work, not what did not go into it or what I was thinking when I wrote it. To me, that takes away from the story and I don’t want to take that away from my readers.
Speaking of journals, do you keep one or recommend keeping one for others? I use to write in a journal for school. I was forced to write in it. I have tried writing in one before a bunch of times but I just can not do it. When I write it has to flow out of me. If I feel forced then I can not write, I can even develop a block and I hate those. Everyone has different things that helps them to write and if keeping a journal helps you to write then I encourage that. Me personally, I can not.
You mentioned blocks, a writer’s worse nightmare, how often do you get them? I don’t know, they come and go. The bad thing is when I get one it can last a few hours or it can last months. I had a block that lasted eight months.
So when these blocks end how long does it usually take you to write your short stories or novels? That question is a very tough one to answer. I have written a short story, for example, THE PILLOW FIGHT, in ten minutes while HELL’S PLAYGROUND took me over a year to write. One book took a month to write while another is not complete and it’s been two years since I started it.
When I have a story idea I write and I write till the story stops speaking to me. I might get hit all of a sudden by another story and I have to start writing that story till it stops speaking to me. I have been known to work on three to four stories at once.
To date, just how many novels do you have completed? I have a total of ten short novels that I have completed. I just need to transfer them from paper to computer.
Ten books on paper? Aren’t you worried about losing them? Not really. I know it sounds bad but I do believe everything happens for a reason. If these books are meant to be read then they will be, if not then at least I had fun writing them. Publishing them is important to me but not so important that I have to give up time with my family to get them printed.
Well you have one book that has been published and another due out around Christmas. When did you know you were ready to be published? Honestly I’m not sure that I’m ready to be published even now. I’m my own worst critic. Others like my work and that gives me something to look forward to. I know I have to do my best so that I do not disappoint anyone with my work.

This interview was written on October 17, 2008.

What's In a Name

This is a subject I have written on over and over again. No matter what people wish, humans are very shallow people. We judge each other by so many aspects but the most common judgment is based on our names. When we hear a name we automatically have a picture in our mind of who this person is, before we ever meet them. For the purposes of this article I will only use my own experiences because I know this is a touchy subject.
First off, stereotypes are stereotypes for a reason, most of the time they are true. I say most because while some stereotypes have been applied to me, they do not fit. While the name attached to this article is Max M. Power, it is not my real name. I am of Latin decent and my family comes from Mexico. However, since I was born in the United States I call myself an American. I do not feel the need to hyphenate, and my personal opinion is that you either are American or you are not.
My first name is Miguel, and for protection of my family, that is the only part of my real name that I will reveal. Now with a common name like Miguel I do get stereotyped that I have to speak Spanish, I work hard labor, and that I get drunk on the weekend. Only one of these stereotypes is true.
I speak Spanish – NO. I speak very little Spanish. Again, my name played a role in this. When I was little, before I started school, I spoke Spanish as much as I spoke English. When school started my father told my family that we needed to speak English at school. If we spoke Spanish at school we would be pulled out of regular classes and put into ESL, English as a Second Language. Sadly an ESL class was thought in Spanish and they were not taught the same subjects as regular classes. Translation, a lesser education.
My father, being a school teacher, believed that a good education is the most important thing a person can get. So at five years old a decision had to be made, speak a language that my ancestors spoke or get a good education. Education was the choice made and while some think negative because I do not speak Spanish, I am happy with my education and with my life.
I work hard labor – YES and NO. I work hard at everything I do. I was raised with a sense of pride in myself and everything I do. If I’m a toilet scrubber then I’m going to be the best damn toilet scrubber I can be.
I have worked hard labor before, working construction with my in laws family since I was ten. That in itself is a good trade to have, but it’s not for me. It’s not what I want to do for the rest of my life. However, when people hear the name Miguel they think I’m a day laborer. Just not so.
I get drunk on the weekend – NO. This is the one that I laugh at the most. I do not even drink and I can hear the gasp now, a Latino man that does not drink, OH MY GOD! Again, a stereotype that is mostly true, just one that does not apply to me.
As a writer my ultimate goal is to get my work published. Publication means people get to read my work. The more people read my work the more they want, the more they want the better the sales, the better the sales the more money I can make, the more money I make the better chance I have at making a good living.
I have gone to a book convention and have met with a few publishers. I submitted the same work to two different publishers and they both loved it, the only difference was the name attached to the work. They both told me to change my name and it was for the same reason. So why was I not signed? Simple, it’s my name.
Publisher number one received the manuscript with my real name attached. I was told that my Latino name would hurt my sales. I needed a name that sounded more "White" because people make judgments based on the name. Both the title of the book as well as the author’s name will determine if someone will pick up a book and read the cover.
Publisher number two received the manuscript with my pen name attached. Again, the publisher loved the work but did not want to meet me because he only published Latino writers. When I told him I was Latino and what my real name was he told me that he would publish my work but only, and I stress only, if I published under my real name.
I often wondered, what’s the difference if you like the work? But my answer was very clear, which is why I chose to use a pen name in the first place, when a name is all you have to go by, that name needs to speak volumes.
Yes there are stereotypes when it comes to names. Sad but true, it is how, we as humans are programmed. It’s just another thing that needs to be overcome. Whether you want to believe it or not, there is a lot in a name.
Max M. Power

Four A.M.

Growing up I kind of felt like a Gypsy, traveling back and forth across this vast country of ours. Like most of my family I was born in the beautiful state of California. When I was five I was taken to Texas, where I now live. I was taught the importance of family but at a great distance. While 95% of my family was still in California, we were all spread apart, living in other cities and opposite ends of the state.
One thing remanded the same, no matter where ANY of us were, we all longed for the affection of one person, my grandmother. She was the glue that kept our family together, or at the very least, kept us in line. We learned quickly, do NOT let this little lady fool you, after all dynamite comes in small packages and my grandmother was the ultimate firecracker.
My grandmother taught me that there is a huge difference between hearing and listening. Listening to her for five minutes, you knew she had a life time of stories to tell. The wonderful thing though, even in silence, she could speak volumes.
With everyone pawing for attention and we being half way across the country, my time was limited to short visits. A week, a month, a summer. It really did not matter; we always made the best of it. In 1989 the visit lasted a year, and when school started, I got four a.m.
It started with a summer visit, grandma taking my brother, my cousins, and myself to our huge family reunion at the largest park in Stockton, California. At the park we were allowed to go to the pool. Throughout the summer we went to the pool on our own, taking the city bus, but when grandma took us, there was no silence. Oh no, not my grandma, she taught us how to talk smack to the players.
The Stockton Ports was a minor league baseball team but they were OUR team and grandma said they needed OUR support. So to the game we went, buying a Coke and a hotdog or popcorn. It was un-American to go to a baseball game and NOT get a Coke and hotdog, a lesson I passed on to my own child.
Screaming at the other team, telling the ump he needed glasses, those were good times, and the ONLY time we were allowed to say things like that without getting our butts tanned.
Soon summer came to an end and it was time for school. Over ten people living under one roof, with three bedrooms and one shower, fighting for time was a big issue. I had to be out the door at six in the morning to catch the city bus to school. I took my showers in the morning before anyone else was awake. Four a.m. was my time to wake up.
With sleep in my eyes I stumbled into the shower with my school clothes, having to dress quickly in the bathroom. Wet towel in hand, I walked back to my room to put it into the hamper and grab my backpack. As I closed the door to the room I looked over to the kitchen to see the newspaper floating over the table, my grandmother hidden behind the pages.
Breakfast was sitting on the table waiting for me. Grandma made what she made and there was no complaining allowed. I could complain but it would result in getting slapped in the face, breakfast taken away, and having to wait until lunch for my next meal. Like I said, no complaining allowed.
I would sit down, good mornings were exchanged and I would begin to eat. No other words were spoken except an occasional, “Will you look at that…” “I can’t believe they did that…” or “Well, I’ll be…” Grandma never treated us like fragile children but more like young adults so she would read certain articles and ask my opinion.
We never had “conversations” per say but I learned a lot from grandma. At five a.m. the rest of the house would begin to wake up and I would have to clear my place from the table and finish getting ready for school back in my room. It was everyone else’s turn to spend the morning with grandma before she went to work. We all had to share this wonderful woman but at least I had her all to myself at four a.m.

Max M. Power
Written November 24, 2008

Paper or Plastic

No I'm not talking about your groceries. I'm talking about shopping. In this age of electronics, where almost everything can be done on a hand held device that fits in your pocket, more and more people are turning to the internet to get their entertainment. In fact I am writing this article on a hand held Palm Pilot PDA.
Things are more convenient online. Stores are going out of business while their website counterparts are thriving. People don't have to fight for parking, stand in long lines, or deal with rude people. Your purchase can be delivered to your address so you never have to leave the house. If you know where to look most times you can get what you want for cheaper than you can in the store.
Want to see a movie? Going to a movie can cost over $20 per person when you add in popcorn and a drink. That same movie can be downloaded for less than $3 depending on who you use. Makes you wonder how long DVDs will last at $15 to $20 a movie.
Books? Average paperback will not cost less than $8 while a hardback is closer to $22. An e-book can range from $0.50 to $7 depending on the book. Depending on the handheld device an e-readers can be a fairly cheap add on. A paper book can be bulky; especially if it’s a Stephen King novel, and is can not fit in most pockets. has The Kindle, other websites offer E-Reader Machines, Palm has a downloadable program that can turn any Palm Pilot into an e-reader, and even cell phones can be turned into e-readers. The great thing about any e-reader is that depending on your memory size you can store anywhere from a hundred files or books on up into the thousands. No more looking for a dictionary, they can be downloaded too.
With this age of technology the question still stands, paper or plastic? While plastic may be more convenient nothing beat good old fashion rough paper. The sound of a newspaper rustling as you turn the pages. The smell of a brand new book as you open it for the first time and let the ink breath. The feel of a crisp new dollar bill between your finger tips.
The best thing about paper that outweighs plastic, no power needed to operate. If you live in an area where a strong story can knock out power for days or weeks at a time you know how wonderful paper can be. So what will it be, paper or plastic?

Max M. Power
Written November 15, 2008


What is up with this game? I can’t stop playing it but I am going bald from pulling my hair out. I think this computer is cheating. Dang, I just lost another game. I mean it’s a simple game, one that I can play anywhere with a deck of cards but I have to play this game here on the computer.
Then there are different versions of this game. Draw one card, draw three cards. Auto jump to the ACES. It’s enough to drive you batty. Dang, lost another game. I’m hooked, I just can’t stop. Then again, I can’t get any work done either because I’m playing this game. Wow, that was a fast game. I swear this computer is cheating. I really hate this game, I wish I could stop playing it. I… I... I won! I LOVE THIS GAME!!!

Max M. Power
Written December 15, 2008

What Do You Believe?

It’s a valid question, what do you believe? It’s a question that can take a lifetime to answer. God gave us all FREE WILL and with that our minds are open to countless possibilities.
There are literally thousands of topics that this question, these four little words, can apply to. You have the three deadliest topics; Sex, Religion, and Politics, there’s a bomb just waiting to go off. But there are others that can really blow your mind: The Supernatural, The Unknown, The Paranormal, Ghost, Shadow People, and The After Life.
Do you believe in Vampires? I do. I know they exist because I am one. I’m not the kind that you’re most likely thinking of, I do not like blood. I’m an Energy Vampire. Look it up, you might be surprised in what you find.
What about aliens? Well, yea, of course they exist. Just because I have not personally seen one myself, I do believe they exist, sorry but the Goobly Goos are a story I made up. If they are not real then it seems like a very bad waist of space.
Ghost? I would not be an amateur ghost hunter if I didn’t. I have had my own experiences all my life with ghost, even having a ghost attached to me for a few years. Now that my ghost is gone I actually miss her playfulness.
So now I ask you, what do you believe?

Max M. Power
Written December 10, 2008

Swing Away

The wonderful thing about the internet is the unlimited supply of things to read. I am always reading and looking for great new authors. I love to read and no doubt you do to, that is why you are a member of my fan club. I found a young writer who will someday soon hold the title of AUTHOR. The following is a recent article she wrote. You can find out more about her here:

When life throws you curveballs…


From working at Royals Kauffman Stadium I’ve learned a few things. Aside from the fact they don’t have a half-time and that they have innings and not quarters, I’ve learned that you cheer for the home team. Even when they’re the underdogs. Especially if they’re the underdogs every game. I’ve been shown that, in its own way, life is like baseball. You’re playing the same game every time but the pitcher isn’t always the same person. And sometimes, maybe most of the time, the pitcher is bigger, badder, faster, and in every way stacks the odds higher and higher against you. But you still step up to the plate because people are counting on you. There are people who will still cheer you on, wearing YOUR name across their back, rooting for the underdog which happens to be you.
You can’t just say, “Sorry coach it’s just not my day and I don’t feel like playing.” No. Maybe you’re not playing for yourself or for the love of the game, maybe you don’t even know why; but you do it anyway, because that’s the name of the game.
You’re on the roster and it’s your turn at bat. There’s no backing out now and you’ve got to give it your all. You see everyone in the stands, and the determination on the faces of the opposing players, all of them, trying to get you out one way or another. You step up to home plate and try your best, even when you know it’s not good enough you still grip that bat and swing.
The crack of the bat compels you to run like you mean it. First Base. The stadium lights glare and your muscles burn. Second Base. The adrenaline continues to propel you as you approach your goal. Third base. You can see home base as sweat kisses your lips. You begin to feel anxious and triumphant. You’ll make it home but maybe not. Just then, dust is thrown in the air as you slide into home plate and you hear the pop of the ball in the catcher’s mitt.
And finally,
Victory as the Umpire shouts, “Safe!”
The crowd roars, sharing your joyous relief.
Sometimes it pays to step it up and swing.
Who do you play for?
“You don’t play for the name on the back of the jersey, you play for the name on the front.” – T Shirt Tuesday Giveaways.
Written by Kimberly Crowley on Saturday June 27, 2009

Thought of the Day

When the world has U down & U just want to scream, all ur hair u pull. Just remember things aren't as they seem. Sing these words of wisdom: INCONCEIVABLE

My First Kiss

Growing up I was not very educated in things going on in the world. If it was not on my morning cartoons chances are I did not know about it.
While kids were learning adult content in elementary school I just nodded my head and played along, pretending I knew what they knew about sex. I did not want to be laughed at for not knowing what the other kids were talking about.
Plain and simple, I was naive.
Most of my peers already had their first kiss before getting out of the fifth grade. Jr. High provided more proof of this fact when everywhere you looked the “cool” kids were making out.
Cheerleaders were girlfriends to the football players. Clicks were everywhere and faces were stuck together. As for me, I had to watch from afar. While I longed for the contact the other kids had I was reminded of two reasons why I could not.
First off, I was a nerd. Other nerds DID have girlfriends but I seemed to be different. I was always considered “a good friend” and nothing more.
Second, it was forbidden for me to have a girlfriend at my age. Unlike most teenagers, I was not the rebel without a cause. Even if I did have a cause it would not have mattered, I was a Jehovah’s Witness. Like I said, it was forbidden in our religion.
For this later reason I was often teased. I was different. I was an easy target. Needless to say, Jr. High was a very lonely time for me.
When I became a freshman in High School things changed. I was at a new school, new students, and unlike the kids I had been in classes with since the second grade, these new students knew nothing about me.
Still I had to pretend I knew what was going on. Clicks were everywhere and I did not fit into any of them. I did what I have always done, being the nerd I was, I worked in the library.
I had been working in the library during my lunch since the sixth grade. I was at home.
I filed books. I cleaned up. I read the comics in the newspaper. I finished my homework. I tutored other students. One of these students would educate me more than I would educate her. Her name was Vanessa Ortiez.
Vanessa was a goddess. Beautiful flowing long black hair. Cute perfectly placed dimples. Long lushes legs. Firm round behind. Great hips. Forty-six DD breast. Soft smooth tan skin. One hundred forty pounds and a smile that would make your heart melt. Like I said, a goddess.
Vanessa was failing English and History, two of my best subjects. When she walked up to me on that bright Friday afternoon I was stunned. She was asking for my help.
Unlike other girls, Vanessa asked for my help directly, not flirting with me to say yes. How could I refuse?
Everyday Vanessa would come into the library and I would tutor her in the back rooms. We could eat in these rooms so sometimes she would bring lunch for us to share. I would imagine I was on a picnic instead of in a small room filled with books.
I wanted to be with Vanessa, and not just as her tutor. I was no longer naive, just inexperienced. However, I did know enough to know Vanessa was WAY out of my league. She was a goddess and I was an insect.
Vanessa was always serious when we studied so I had to be too. In all honesty I could not concentrate when I was around her. My brain turned to mush.
On occasion my mush brain would show and Vanessa ALWAYS found this funny. “It’s very cute,” she would say.
This went on all semester. Vanessa’s failing grades were rising. She went from F’s to A’s. When Vanessa received her final report card of the semester she was surprised to see straight A’s.
Never in her life had Vanessa received straight A’s. The fruit of her labor was clear and she was excited. This excitement prompted a reward for me, although Vanessa did not know it.
The next time Vanessa saw me I was busy putting books back in their place on the shelves. I never saw her coming. Vanessa’s arms wrapped around me as she hugged me tight.
Vanessa’s firm breasts were pressing against me tightly. MY REWARD! When Vanessa let go I turned around. Vanessa hugged me again. The sweet smell of her perfume and shampoo filled my nose, drifting me away to paradise. Vanessa always smelled good.
“Thank you,” Vanessa said, kissing my cheek then letting go. She held out her report card and I seen why she was excited.
The next day I heard it through the grapevine that Vanessa was moving away with her father. I was crushed. I was in love.
I had to tell Vanessa how I felt. I wrote her a note to meet me in the Northwest stairwell at lunch. This stairwell was rarely used and I knew I would have privacy.
Vanessa met me, sensing the urgency in my tone. Before she could say a word I sprang up from where I was sitting and blurted out, “I love you.”
“What,” came the shock response. It was hard to tell if her face showed surprise or disgust. I had to continue.
“I’m in love with you. I’m seriously in love with you.”
Silence filled the air. The stairwell was dark, however, I could see my words were sinking in. I walked around the stairs to hide in the total darkness of the corner. I professed my love and my answer was silence.
Vanessa followed me to the corner. I was not going to escape so easily. “Your timing sucks,” Vanessa answered before grabbing my shirt and pulling me to her.
Vanessa’s soft sweet lips pressed against mine. My first kiss.
With each passing moment we continued to kiss. Slowly her deep red lipstick was coming off. My mind was racing a mile a minute.
Do I close my eyes or keep them open? Whoa, her tongue just went into my mouth! What do I do? Do I push it out with my own tongue? Do I stick my tongue in her mouth now? Where do my hands go? Am I doing this right or am I screwing up?
Vanessa was reading my mind. She broke away and smiled at me. I knew what that smile meant, she thought my inexperience was cute.
“Just relax and do what I do,” Vanessa whispered in my ear. She began to nibble my ear as she wrapped my arms around her waist, sliding my hands to her hips.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and pecked my lips. “I’m in love with you too.”
We kissed again. This time I let my mind go blank. My body knew what to do as I closed my eyes and pulled Vanessa to me tight. For the next hour she was mine and I was not going to let her go.
I may have been a late bloomer but I am very glad that my first kiss was with Vanessa. Like many others, I will never forget my first love. I will never forget my first kiss.
Max M. Power

The Decade Time Forgot

I remember back when I was a kid. Back when teachers could paddle you for being bad. The biggest decision we had to make was white or chocolate milk. The girls had cooties and the boys teased the girls that they secretly liked.
Music was fun and we sung the same songs over and over again. That was one busy bus all over town.
Muppets were our best friends. We had a big yellow bird teaching us songs while a mean green man lived in the trash. A vampire taught us to count and a blue fuzzy monster taught us how to REALLY eat cookies.
Back when Mondays were Manic and people walked funny like Egyptians. When a Hammer had his own time and wearing a parachute as pants was cool. Where it was a thrill to be seen in a dark red leather jacket and one white glove.
Children were our future. When every major singer was The World. Hunger and homelessness were fought one hand at a time across America.
A little fat Italian man and his skinny brother kept us entertained for hours as they tried to rescue a princess against an evil dragon.
When cats had thunder and cars were actually robots in disguise. When knowing was ALWAYS half the battle. Where a pony was little and yours. Where bears lived in the clouds and traveled on rainbows. When rainbows were controlled by a blonde in pigtails.
A time when videos killed radio stars. When MTV actually played music videos and everyone wanted to jump.
There was only ONE HBO and having it made you cool. Teenagers learned things you can’t do on television. Slime was gross but you couldn’t wait to get it dumped on you. Where Dares were Doubled and always ended in a physical challenge.
A time where turtles fought like ninjas and everyone was afraid of a man dressed like a bat. Where a short little alien just wanted to go home.
Back when the Jedi made their return and superheroes were everywhere. A golden Hulk took on a Giant and won. A boxer showed us how to overcome all odds and be a winner if we had the eye of a tiger.
Where the Rain was purple and ghost were being busted. Where the fool was pitied. When we first found out time travel was possible at 88mph and it is NEVER a good idea to date your own mother in high school.
A man in a hockey mask scared us during the day while a burnt looking man haunted our nightmares.
Where the beef was missing and everyone asked what you were talking about. A dictionary was also a cute orphan boy. A Punky girl and her dog stole our hearts. When a Rider was Knighted. A talking car and a Wolf helicopter were the good guys. A Tab was more than a bill, it was the drink of choice.
Back when it was actually safe to walk around at night and no one worried about locking their doors. Neighbors were friendly and shared cooking supplies.
An actor was President and helped to bring down some wall in Berlin. A war that was cold ended and our arch enemy backed down and collapsed from failure.
The music was fresh, fun, and hip; not retro as it is today. Whipping It was a must. Love was a battlefield. Leg warmers and big baggy shirts could be seen everywhere. When hair was teased and a headband kept it all in place. Where dance was flashed or broken, and sometimes Dirty.
Pink was a pretty color and Blane was not a real name. A Foot became Loose. An Excellent Adventure was taken and a teenager made peace with his inner wolf. Breakfast was more than just a meal, it was a club. A Russian boxer became Master of the Universe and Punished the bad guys.
Arcades were everywhere as sounds of a yellow circle ate little dots and ghost. A ball was rolled around as a starship destroyed a bug. The stars found their last fighter.
Those were fun and simple times. VERY DORKY but simple. It has been said the 80’s is a decade time forgot or is trying to forget. Not me. I miss those simple fun times.
The best thing was anything weird was cool. I will never forget the 80’s and if you experienced it, you will not forget them either.
Max M. Power

How Many Books Have I Written???

I was asked how books have I actually written and that got me looking back at what I have done since 2001, when I started writing full time. The following is a list of EVERYTHING I am working on.
The Guardians
A Fallen Angels Novel

The battle between good and evil is as old as creation itself. A great family feud in heaven spills over to us here on earth. Banished from their home, not all that followed Azazel in battle still follow him on earth.
Now a second war between good and evil is fast approaching. Living in the final days, as foretold by the bible, Azazel wants any advantage he can get. Breaking the rules set forth by God is the only ways to gain this advantage. Azazel will destroy anyone who will get in his way, including the Guardians.
Demetrius is the strongest of the Guardians and Azazel almost succeeds in destroying him first. Raphael, an Arch Angel has formed an alliance Demetrius, asking Demetrius to fight the other Fallen Angels since he is forbidden to do so by God himself. With the love of his life by his side Demetrius is determine to stop his brother for good.

Fighting The Mob
A Jonathan McGregor Novel

Staff Sergeant Jonathan McGregor never had anything in his life to call his own. While serving as a sniper in the Marine Corps Jonathan finds a family.
Upon leaving the Corps, Jonathan, his wife, and newborn child move to New York City to be with his in-laws. Jonathan’s life could not be better, until one day members of the Mafia show up and demand Jonathan pay insurance money for his store. Jonathan fights back and it cost him his family. Now Jonathan is waging a private war against organized crime.
Will a handful of retired Marines be able to defeat the Mafia or will they bite off more than they can chew?

The Farm
A Jonathan McGregor Novel

A world of lies, deception and espionage. Where you can serve your country and at the same time earn a license to kill. The world's best spies work for the CIA.
Only the elite are sent to the FARM, the CIA's training grounds. Training to be a CIA operative is hard work, highly stressful, and very dangerous. For Jonathan McGregor and Ty Johnson, it is all one big joke.
Some students, as well as instructors, do not believe Jonathan and Johnson belong in the CIA. Under the direction of the senior instructor at the Farm, the students attempt to assassinate Jonathan and Johnson.
Will their Marine Corps training keep them alive or will they become another black star in a wall in Langley?

Silent But Deadly
A Jonathan McGregor Novel

Having to become a killer for hire Jonathan must prove he is the best at what he does. Jonathan needs a target that will get the attention of the entire world. Jonathan sets his sights of Fidel Castro.
Going to Cuba, Jonathan learns everything he will need to take down the horrid dictator. Making friends with the Cuban Underground, they follow Jonathan’s lead and march toward Havana.
Things become complicated when Jonathan finds out that his mentor from the Marine Corps has orders to stop Jonathan. Now Jonathan must decide who his true enemy is and take him out.

Loves Flight Path
A Max “Skywalker” Power Novel

A man is considered lucky if he can find love in his life. Max Power finds love not once, but three times. Fighting for everything he has, Max finds himself coming across the love of two beautiful women and his dream, being a fighter pilot in the United States Navy.
On his first cruise Max discovers whom he truly loves and everything falls into balance. His life is going great until the unthinkable happens; the United States is attacked.
Faced with WAR, Max must put aside his personal feelings and do his duty as a fighter pilot. When he is shot down behind enemy lines, Max knows that he has to make it back safely to the woman he loves.
Question is, will he?

A Max “Skywalker” Power Novel

The President of the United States has just made the largest announcement since the news of 9/11. Saddam and his regime have forty-eight hours to leave Iraq or the U.S. will invade.
Lieutenant Max Power, watching the announcement knows what it means for him. Lieutenant Power is returning to WAR. With his wife days away from birth Lieutenant Power boards a plane from San Diego to Washington D.C. He promises to return safely.
When his aircraft is hijacked and the crew is in on it Lieutenant Power has only one option; to take the plane back. Not knowing who is in on the hijacking Lieutenant Power wonders if he'll be able to keep his promise of returning safely?

The Dogfight
A Max “Skywalker” Power Novel

The shooting has begun between the United States and Iraq. The second Persian Gulf is now in place.
With the Arm Forces on high alert Lieutenant Max “Skywalker” Power and Lieutenant Leslie “Taz” Nelson have arrived aboard the U.S.S. Harry Truman as replacement pilots.
Within twenty-four hours of their arrival both are sent on dangerous mission after mission. Soon they find themselves involved in the biggest aerial dogfight since the days of Vietnam.
With both aircraft wounded badly can they make it back to the ship?

Returning to Sea
A Max “Skywalker” Power Novel

The F/A-26 Badger is the newest aircraft in the Navy. Lieutenant Commander Max “Skywalker” Power is in charge of taking the first squadron to use the Badger out to Sea.
This will be a many first for Lieutenant Commander Power. By taking on this command he wonders if it'll be more than he can handle.
It's not long before Elvis and the Badger are put to the test. It is time to prove what both pilot and plane can do.

A Day to Remember

Sitting in an airport waiting for a flight to come in, Commander Steven "Trigger" Gann begins to remember the best day of his life.
Upon going home to Houston, Texas, Steven meets a young lady who missed her international flight. With twenty-four hours to kill the two of them decide to spend it together.
At the end of their time together both lives have been changed forever. Love has blossomed and now a decision to leave or stay must be made.

Eagle Squadron
A Paul Fiala Novel

In January of 1940 Europe is enveloped in a huge conflict. The only thing standing between Hitler and total domination in Europe is a few British pilots.
Paul Fiala wants to help in the only way he knows how, flying. Leaving his home in Texas behind, Paul personally flies across the Atlantic to join the British Royal Air Force. (RAF)
Upon arrival in England Paul must overcome negative views against him. Word spreads fast that the RAF is starting a squadron of American pilots. Paul hopes to become one of the first in this new squadron. The Eagle Squadron.

A Wyatt Earp Novel

A gang comes to Houston, Texas, claiming the city as their own. They begin killing rivals to show their power. When innocent kids are killed Detective Wyatt Earp wants the killers brought to justice.
When a vigilante starts killing the same gang members who are killing kids the FBI is brought in to take over the case.
Wyatt does not want to stop this vigilante because he is doing what the police can not. Will justice prevail or will the vigilante be caught before the last gang member is dead. It’s a race against time to see whom can out whom.


Molly and Renee are far from being your average twins. One is popular and the other is, well, not. When Molly gets into a bad accident Renee must move and take over Molly’s life. Renee is not happy about it and tries to make sure no one else is either, especially Molly’s boyfriend Michael.
Michael, believing Renee is not the bad girl she makes herself out to be, treats Renee with kindness, winning her over. Upon Molly’s return Renee does not want to give Michael up. Now its sister against sister, fighting for the same man. Michael has no idea of the family feud or how deadly the feud is about to get.


Blaming the loss of his family on S.W.A.T. a man decides to take revenge on the very men that were suppose to protect them. Waiting patiently for five years the time has come to enact his plan.
Studying tactics used by the police department, he is going to put everyone to the test, making them question all “life saving” policies. With the entire world watching, S.W.A.T. finds that they need to rethink their tactics.

Chronicles of the Huntress
A Kara Novel

Being the birth daughter of the Mother of all vampires, Kara was her mother’s daughter, vicious and seductive. Kara left the vampire world to start a family of her own and when her family died, Kara blames her mother for not allowing her to save her own family.
Filled with anger Kara vows to get revenge on all vampires. Becoming a hunter Kara begins to track down vampires, killing them off one at a time. Kara finds out from her uncle, the second vampire ever created, that she can put an end to all vampires if she kills her mother.
Now the greatest hunt in history is on, mother against daughter. The two most powerful female vampires are set to kill each other. What will the future of all vampires hold?

I Need to Feed
A Lauren & Alister Novel

“I want to know all I can about the man I am going to marry.”
Alister, wanting to make Lauren happy, agrees to take her on a tour of The Slums, the neighborhood where Alister grew up. But for Alister, nothing good could come from going home.
The tour begins with his high school and ends at the house were Alister grew up. Despite the warnings from Alister of how unsafe the area is Lauren wants to know all she can about Alister’s past.
Trouble comes calling, as Alister knew it would. Alister hopes to be able to get out of the situation without anyone getting hurt, but someone always gets hurt in The Slums.

Now that you have read all of the blurbs of what I am working on I would like to hear your thoughts. Which ones sound like something you would like to read. Also, since I will be publishing these books myself, I am taking ideas for covers. What do you think would make a good cover for any of these books? Would you like to be on the cover for any of these books?
Before I forget, Chronicles of the Huntress is the only book that I already have a cover model for. Since photography is a slight problem for me right now, no current camera, thanks a lot Tropical Storm Alison, I have to start preplanning now. Once I get a camera I will be snapping pictures left and right. With that said, let the brain storming begin.