The Secret Lure

Fool me once, shame on you; get a picture of it, shame on me.

  
   The perfect fly cast. Fly casters throughout the world seek it. My response was a broad smile as the streamer settled unerringly on an inconspicuous ribbon of moving water that wrapped around a concrete slab the size of a small car. One corner of the eight-inch thick concrete stuck out of the water near an undercut hillside as though a giant hand had wedged it there. The bulk of the slab had buried in the channel of the creek coming to rest against the bank.
   Instinctively I hunkered down in anticipation of a strike. Raising the rod tip slightly kept my lure in the current and drifting toward its intended target; a deep washout at the downstream end of the slab created from the current that hugged its hardpan shoreline. My quarry lay in that watery hideaway, and I had miscalculated its response.
   The cave dweller, a big smallmouth, caught me off-guard as it charged out from under the upstream end of its hideout and inhaled my offering...

Find out what happens when the book comes out!