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The cruel and unexpected deaths of Glenda’s parents results in a ten year absence from her roots in Northern Ontario. At her uncle’s invitation, she returns to take part in a nine day canoe excursion to Moosonee only to find her uncle sold the bush camp.
Marc Bouvier, the new owner, is led to believe ‘Glen Demars’ is joining them. He isn’t instantly taken with the turn of events, nor is he convinced the bush is any place for a beautiful woman.
Glenda isn’t looking for love, nor is she expecting her uncle to play matchmaker but she is stimulated by his audacity and Marc’s assumptions. She agrees to Marc’s pre-excursion test before embarking on the adventure that takes them through the woes of mismatched hell to the depth of passion.
EXCERPT
Morning dawned with unbelievable splendor. The water sat somnolent in the pale light, its mirrored surface reflecting the rolling scenery. Branches hung at suspended angles over the water and quivered in the rising haze. Clumps of earth and granite interspersed with stunted spruce trees, dissected the waterways, and Glenda sensed their first portage was not far off in the distance.
Through the weak reception of the transistor, the weatherman said the afternoon promised to be hot with the possibility of a thunderstorm. Some storms often swept rapidly upriver and dissipated before building force, and some didn't. They were prepared for either.
Glenda looked around and wondered if anything anywhere had ever looked so peaceful. She didn't think so. The beauty around her was in sharp contrast with her dreams. Even the faraway menace of a storm managed to enhance nature's portrait. From this vantage point, the place was a precious and sacred part of the world. She began to understand her family's devotion.
She looked over at Marc. Through the haze, she decided he was the most good looking and powerful man she'd ever met. His non-fatigable paddling resulted in the removal of his shirt, and his muscles rippled in time to the waves. The rays of light that pierced the mist danced on his jet-black head and lent it the iridescent sheen of a blackbird. His tanned skin was a shade lighter, and Glenda watched, transfixed. Her gaze roamed to his mouth, to the tilt of his chin, to his broad shoulders that tapered to a concave waist, to his long legs, tangled in gear. He sat drenched in a pool of light, looking vibrantly alive and unmistakably male.
When she realized what she was doing, she shook herself. Land loomed ahead, and they would soon be on foot. Just as more pools of sunlight filtered through the trees in the one direction, dark clouds rolled in from another.
"The first portage is only about a half mile long. I hope we can get through it before the storm hits," Marc said on a concerned note.
Ray peered at him over his sunglasses. "The storm seems a long way off. Maybe it will miss us altogether."
"I hope you're right."
"Sweet Survivor is a fantastic love story, filled with adventure and beautiful scenery. I was drawn in by the first paragraph, and couldn't put it down... I highly recommend this well-written, fun story!"
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