The Tugboat Man —
A Universe from the Mind of D.T. Iverson
Tug has a name. But everybody calls him "the Tugboat Man." He's been immortal since he drank from the fountain of youth. His wife Maria was born 13,000 years ago on the Lost Continent of Atlantis. She has weird psychic powers. Needless to say, they are not your typical married couple. They and their ships cat, which isn't exactly a cat, prevent stray pieces of Atlantean technology from accidentally ending the world. You might think this is science-fiction. But it is really just an adventure-romance involving a man and his wife.
To those of you who have read me elsewhere. I have been encouraged to let my freak flag fly and this site seems like a good place to start doing that. I consider myself the poet-laureate of the nerd world. And I like my stories with a little sex and a whole lot of twists and turns. That's what you I am giving you here. I hope that you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. And because it was so much fun, you can expect more along this line. D.T. / (Reviews)
The title tells the tale. The wife is from Atlantis. So, there are some unavoidably sci-fi aspects. But, this is actually nothing more than pure romantic adventure. I hope that you enjoy reading it, as much as I did writing it. D.T.
This is my third Tug story. In this one, our hero and his Atlantean wife solve the mystery of Jack the Ripper; thereby, saving the world from Nazi Armageddon. Their discoveries expose the real truth behind the Whitechapel murders, along with some of the more unsavory elements of Victorian society. Along the way, they meet the legendary Victorian swashbuckler, Harry Paget Flashman. And, King Edward the Seventh tries his luck with our hero's wife. Read on, and enjoy!
Tug and his Atlantean wife are in Camelot, where backstabbing and adultery are the favorite pastime. The mission is to prevent an Athenian super weapon from destroying Anglo-Saxon culture. The problem is that Maria has to seduce King Arthur to get it. Meanwhile, Tug has to joust with one of the knights of the round table while worrying about his wife playing footsie with the King. It isn't Sir Thomas Mallory, or even Mark Twain. But I hope you find my little tale entertaining.
