A quick insight into Rob Sangster’s process for writing Ground Truth!

I met the (future) love of my life at a party in an elegant home on the bank of the Mississippi River.  She was a novelist, a mystery writer. My professions were real estate development and practicing law, but I’d written an award-winning book on international travel, so I said, “What a coincidence. I’m a writer, too. May I offer you a glass of wine?”

Before long, to maintain a shred of credibility in this blossoming relationship, I felt compelled to figure out how to write a novel. My insatiable curiosity required me to write Ground Truth. When I discover something intriguing, I feel driven to explore it. If the topic turns out to be on the breaking wave of reality and is likely to come true in the foreseeable future, I make it the center of a suspenseful corkscrew of a plot. Then I populate the story with complex characters pursuing goals that inevitably bring them into conflict.

In Ground Truth, the action takes place in a corrupt law firm in San Francisco, a sacred cave in a Mexican mountain (where the sacred cave is crammed full of unstable nuclear material), and the Oval Office.

Ground Truth reached #1 on Amazon Kindle and is receiving very favorable reviews. My second novel, Deep Time, won the EPIC Award as Best Suspense/ Thriller novel of 2017.

The relationship that started all this is going strong and my curiosity remains unquenched, so my third suspense/thriller will be published this year.

Ground Truth by Rob Sangster is on sale for $1.99 until the 28th!

“A masterful, high-stakes thriller.”

—Lisa Turner, bestselling author of A Little Death in Dixie

Practicing law has never been so deadly.

Hotshot Stanford law professor Jack Strider is on the fast track to serve on the Supreme Court until a bullet and a nasty, front-page family scandal shatter that ambition.

After he’s unjustly fired from the law school faculty, a powerhouse law firm run by a former Secretary of State offers Jack a job and a chance for redemption. His first assignment: do whatever it takes to defend a sleazy corporate client in Juarez, Mexico, the Murder Capital of the World. Soon, Jack realizes that if he can’t stop his client, millions of people on both sides of the border will be poisoned.

Plunged into the violence of the Texas-Mexican borderlands, Jack discovers that he can trust no one, not even the law firm he works for, so when attorney Debra Vanderberg is sent to assist Jack, he doesn’t know whether she’s an ally or a spy. He has no choice but to trust her and pray he isn’t wrong.

Racing against the clock and dodging bullets, Jack and Debra uncover corporate greed and political corruption that lead all the way from a sacred cave in the Mexican mountains to the Oval Office. When the President of the United States refuses to stop the impending catastrophes, Jack risks everything, including his life. But can he learn the “ground truth” fast enough to save the millions destined to die?

Happy Reading!

Around Christmastime that year, Josh and I were talking about trips and places we’ve been and he started talking about how much he loves Universal Studios, how many times he’d been, how he hadn’t been since they opened up the Wizarding World of Harry Potter, and how he’s been dying to go for that reason. And I told him how I had been once on a trip in high school, but I didn’t really get to enjoy it. I also told him how I barely remembered anything about it. So Josh insisted that we take a vacation, but then he told me he wouldn’t take me until I watched all the Harry Potter movies since I had never seen any of them or read the books. We then watched all eight movies in a two week period. We saved our money and bought a trip and in April 2016, we went to Orlando. I had never been on a plane before and I thought it was really cute that Josh wanted to be the one to take me on my first airplane experience.

            We arrived on Friday and Saturday was our first day at the park. Saturday night after dinner we took a walk on the City Walk and Josh started peppering me with questions. Wondering if I’d had fun, what my favorite section of the park was (It was Harry Potter World, BY FAR, by the way), and what my favorite ride was. I didn’t think anything of it, so I answered his questions and asked him the same things. Well the next morning we got up and went back to the park again for our second day. The only part of the park that’s open the first hour of the day is the Harry Potter rides. So we headed there, rode those, and afterwards we just walked around checking out all the stores and stuff. Josh asked me if I wanted to take a picture together. I should have known something was up right then because he never wants to take pictures. Because of that fact, I was excited and said yes! So we found a costumed park employee and asked him to take a picture of us. He was super nice and agreed. He took several shots of us, even getting all artsy trying to make sure he was getting some good ones. Then suddenly as the employee went to hand me my phone back, Josh intervened and said to him “Actually, could you take one more picture?” and got down on his knee! I was so surprised. My face turned red and all I could say was “Nuh uh.” There were people walking around all around us and a lot of them stopped to watch and were already clapping for us. He asked me to marry him and there was so much going on, I swear he whispered it because I could barely hear him. Luckily I couldn’t take my eyes off him, so I know what he said by reading his lips. Of course I said yes! Our “photographer” took photos of the whole thing on my phone, and I was really glad he did because those are some of the sweetest pictures that I have. Not to mention, it was one of my requirements of being proposed to. I always told Josh that if he wanted to propose to me, he had better plan a secret photographer to capture it. After our celebration, filled with lots of hugs and kisses, we finally came back to reality. Josh told me to be sure to call my dad and tell him that he did it. I asked him what he meant and he explained that before our trip, he’d asked my dad’s permission to propose. After my father agreed, he told Josh to tell me to call him to tell him as soon as it happened. I’m very much a Daddy’s girl, so that was another one of my requirements to being proposed to. That was actually the first one on the list. It makes me feel so relieved that my dad loves Josh as much as I do and I just felt so incredibly blessed that the perfect guy had just given me the perfect proposal.

I guess some people really do get a second chance at love. And if you do get a second chance, don’t waste it! Josh and I are getting married June 10, 2017, and we couldn’t be more grateful that we get a second chance at happily ever after.

THANK YOU FOR READING! REMEMBER TO LIKE AND COMMENT ON THE FACEBOOK POSTS TO WIN A FREE EBOOK OF HEALING A HERO BY SKYE TAYLOR!

Marrying James Bond

By Hope Clark

Lowcountry Bribe, the first in The Carolina Slade Mystery Series, opens with the protagonist being offered a bribe from a client she least suspects—a hog farmer. She calls the Inspector General’s office, and within 48 hours, they have a federal agent on the ground checking the situation. The investigation goes awry, trust is lost on so many levels, and lives are threatened.

At conferences and readings, I love talking about the opening chapter to that book . . . because it comes so close to reality. I was once a federal employee who was offered a bribe. And my husband was the agent who showed up on the case. We rigged hidden recorders and pin-hole cameras, rehearsed a script to pull off the “sting,” and dealt with threats against me. We didn’t catch the culprit, but we married 18 months later.

At that point in the presentation, the room goes abuzz. Many people then ask me how much of the book is fact and which part fiction. It’s fun, because that means the story reads that realistically. And while I have to tell them the rest of the story is fiction, I can’t help but put myself in those fictional scenes.

Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself where reality stopped and fantasy started. And when I do take that pause, I smile. Because I can get lost in my head with my characters and have a grand time, especially knowing that I get to actually sleep with the good guy. In this case, fantasizing in bed about a character is a very good thing, because I’m married to him.

I’ve actually pondered what would happen if, God forbid, I developed dementia in my older years, and fact gradually muddied into my fiction, blending Slade and Wayne into my own history until I could not remember the difference. After all, writers get very close to their stories and the players that make those tales come to life. I did minor investigations in my prior career with the federal government, and my husband was indeed an agent with many war stories under his belt. As I juggle the possibility of make-believe and my past entangling in my gray-headed mind downstream, I can’t decide if that’s a good or bad predicament.

To make matters worse, my husband is my sounding board for subsequent stories. He keeps my technical details accurate, my gun references true, and laughs at the predicaments Slade gets into, chuckling that he’d never let that happen on his watch. At my speaking engagements, he’s often asked if he was my model for Wayne, and he answers, “Nah, Wayne’s a wuss.” Everybody laughs, and I crack a smile. I know he’s serious.

What better life can I ask for than to secretly write about my husband, pretending I’m the girl in the story, carousing through escapades, playing dare-devil, and solving crime.

We may not look like Daniel Craig and his charming Bond-girl with our middle-aged appearances, but we love to think like we are . . . because one time we did some of that, and now we live happily ever after.

BIO

C. Hope Clark lives on the banks of Lake Murray, South Carolina, writing her mysteries, and often reading aloud to her federal agent with his lit cigar, neat bourbon, and deep opinions about how Wayne still isn’t close to the “real deal.” Tidewater Murder, the second in the Carolina Slade Mystery Series, arrives on book shelves in April 2013. www.chopeclark.com

“Our Hero”

by Deb Stover

I often tell people it’s no wonder I grew up to write romance novels because I believe in heroes.  I was raised by one, and I married one.

Like most nineteen-year-olds, I thought I knew everything.  In 1976, while still living at home with my parents, working full-time and trying to go to school part-time, a good friend insisted on introducing me to someone her fiancé worked with at McConnell Air Force Base.  It would be a double date–a blind date.  Oh, goodie.  I was young, but not stupid.  By nineteen, I’d suffered through a few blind dates.

To make matters worse, it was my date’s twenty-first birthday.  A young Airmen newly assigned to McConnell, he hadn’t met many people, so he would celebrate his birthday with us.  And how did we celebrate in 1976?  By seeing Young Frankenstein, of course.

Dave Stover was tall, muscular, blond, blue-eyed, and extremely good-looking.  In fact, he bore a remarkable resemblance to the young actor who played the role of Rolfe in The Sound of Music.  After a few weeks when I introduced him to my mother, I asked her what she thought.  She sighed and said, “I think he’s a walking, living, breathing doll.”

And so he was….

We had a whirlwind courtship.  There’s no other way to describe it.  We met in April, became engaged in May, and married in August.  Many said it wouldn’t last.  After all, we were so young.  We barely knew each other.

But we knew….

On August 6th, 1976, I married my Prince Charming.  Our first year of marriage wasn’t easy, as I became ill with serious blood clots in my leg that traveled to my lung just before our first anniversary.  It was frightening, but we grew closer as we dealt with our trials.

When we started trying to have a family, we discovered my clotting problem was genetic, and that pregnancy complicated it. In fact, it was life threatening.  I had to give myself injections every six hours throughout my pregnancies.  Our twin daughters were born prematurely in 1980 and died shortly after their birth.

One month later, my mother-in-law died from cancer.  It was a very bad time, but every day brought us closer; every trial made us stronger.

In December 1981, we were blessed with our beautiful, full-term baby girl, Barbi.  It would be my last pregnancy, as my obstetrician told us another attempt was “paramount to a death wish.”

We dedicated our lives to each other, and to spoiling our daughter.  After four years, we looked into adoption, and took a workshop on special needs adoption.  Three months later, we brought home Bonnie–a newborn with Down Syndrome and congenital heart disease.  She’s now twenty-four and pure sunshine mixed with Missouri Mule.

Three years later, when I suggested we consider a multi-racial child, Dave didn’t even hesitate.  So we brought home our son, Benjamin, who is too good looking for my good.  The girls follow him everywhere.

As I worked to publish my first novel, and raised our children, Dave worked at his career, completed his MBA, and we were forced to move around the country more than once.  But he always supported my efforts, never suggested I stop trying to sell that first book, or ceased to be our children’s greatest inspiration in all their endeavors.

In December 1999, the day before our oldest child’s eighteenth birthday, Dave was diagnosed with Stage III colon cancer.  The next year was an endless stream of radiation, chemotherapy, surgeries, and stress.  Finally, he was pronounced “in remission.”

In the spring of 2001, still in remission, he accepted a promising position in Oregon.  Filled with anticipation, we moved halfway across the country for a new beginning.  Cancer free, a new career, a new home, a new life.  I was contracted for my 12th novel, our oldest child was on the high dean’s list in college, and our younger two were doing well in school.

When Dave’s cancer came out of remission in 2004, he had just returned from a trip with the United States Air Force Reserve.  He fought his cancer with the courage and love he did everything else in his life, and he did it for us.

When, after months of treatments, it became clear his cancer was terminal, we planned the family’s return to Colorado together.  He asked me to take his ashes home to Colorado with his family.

The hardest thing I’ve ever done was to hold my hero’s hand and let him go.  I promised him I would take care of his family, and of myself.  Because, being the hero he was, he would not let go, not matter how much pain he was in, until he was sure I would be okay.

David Allen Stover: Hero, Husband, Father, Friend…

April 21, 1955 — May 14, 2005

We love you always.

Deb’s Bio: Once upon a time Deb Stover wanted to be Lois Lane until she discovered Clark Kent is a fraud and there is no Superman. Since publication of Shades of Rose in 1995, Stover has received dozens of awards for her cross-genre fiction. For more information, please visit www.debstover.com.

MAGIC IN EXCESS

by Danielle Childers

I’m from Texas. It’s important for you to recognize the Lone Star State in order to understand why I tease my hair. Everything’s bigger in Texas.

Less is not more. Less is less. Especially when it comes to love. In honor of Valentine’s Day, I wanted to share some things that I have BIG love for.

Danielle’s Favorite Things:

1. Jesus. (I was raised in a very traditional, Southern home, and my mother, who is probably reading this, would die if I didn’t put Jesus first.)

2. The doctor (my husband).

3. Books. (Anything by Deborah Smith, Sarah Addison Allen . . . there’s really too many to list. Follow me on Goodreads.)

4. Cats. (I have 2 and would add more if the doctor would allow it. He puts his foot down, but I know he secretly tries to coax stray kittens into his truck to bring home.)

5. Book clubs that make recipes from the month’s reading and pair it with a movie. Example: Make pumpkin pie. Read The River Witch by Kimberly Brock, and watch Batman: The Dark Knight Rises, because a broken woman attempting to redeem herself and the crumbling spirit of a lonely girl is very much like a conflicted superhero trying to save the world. Both will have you on the edge of your seat until the alligators or the mercenaries are conquered.

These things I love are magic. Combine them with blueberry tea on a Sunday afternoon, and you’ll never go searching for a charm or enchantment again. Only, you can’t have the doctor. He’s mine. I won him fair and square.

You see, unlike my best friend Brittany, I started abandoning romance novels a few years ago. I’m sure the books miss me terribly, and there are days when I miss them, but I’m more of a magical-realism-kind-of-girl. I want a peaceful life with miraculous happenings. When I envision romance, I see myself as a librarian, which I once upon a time was, with woodland creatures scurrying from opened books and high tea manifesting itself with teacups and luxury linens any time the moon shines just right through an open window. When Prince Charming shows up, he’s a little nerdy and a whole lot of magic.

In real life, I married at 19 years of age after 2 months of dating and a 4 month engagement. Yes, 6 months from “Can I date your daughter?” which my husband asked my dad down by the casket at a funeral, to “I do,” which we said on a Sunday morning in between the altar call and the Hallalujah! 

My husband was applying for medical school after completing his degree in biochemistry, and all of our parents supported us. This was, perhaps, the magic in my realisim.

This doctor of mine is hot stuff. At the time, he was surrounded by many, many marriage-minded women. I, like any true Southern lady would, decided to teach them the difference between fishing and hunting. I put on the lowest cut dress I owned, baked his initials onto pancakes, and spread the word that I’d seen the doctor with the church harlot, and I was SURE a disease was brewing. It was a shameless attempt to send his swooning fanclub packing.

It worked.

He’s fantastic. He winks at me when I catch his eye. Is there anything more magical than being the only girl in the room? When I cry, he pats my back and asks if I need to buy a book. If that’s not love . . .

To quell the suspicions that our teeny-tiny, incredibly short courtship fueled, I feel the need to announce: I was not pregnant. I was a v-i-r-g-i-n when I married. Put your eyebrows down! When was I supposed to do “the dance with no pants?” In high school? No, thank you.

I have no problem discussing this because my husband, much like country music, prefers his women a little (barely) on the trashy side. It’s why I pay for some of the blonde in my hair, paint my nails Thrill of Brazil red, and sing “Queen of My Double-Wide Trailer,” even though we live in a perfectly suburban home with guest towels and every kitchen gadget sold at the Williams Sonoma outlet store.

I know it’s all a bit dramatic.

Another example of the magic in books spilling over into my life.

I take things to excess. It’s why, when I found out that New York Times bestselling author Deborah Smith was writing a book called The Biscuit Witch, I proceeded to bring batches of biscuits into work to find the perfect recipe. When I read The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern, I dressed in black and white with red accents for weeks. With Sarah Addison Allen’s The Girl who Chased the Moon, I bought mismatched vintage china plates and strung fairy lights across my backyard.

I know the stories in the books aren’t real, but the magic is. I found it 6 years ago, walking down an aisle in a white dress and veil. And the magic, along with the man of my dreams, has been my constant companion ever since.

Happy reading.

Happy loving.

Happy Valentine’s Day!