Turning Flesh and Blood Into Smoke and Mirrors

By Rob Sangster

PEPPERMINT SCHNAPPS would have been the perfect title for a story I badly wanted to tell. It was about paddling a raft through 100 miles of wild rapids in remote northern Idaho with gallon jugs of peppermint schnapps on board. However, I realized that as non-fiction it would read like a bad journal entry. Refusing to be deterred, I tucked that story into the middle of my novel about a Saudi prince, the President of China, and a swashbuckling Wall Street CEO determined to corner the world market in rare earth elements. That was NO RETURN, a suspense/thriller published last year.

Now, let’s get back to that river and the inside story. We—six men and three women, all in our thirties—climbed out of a battered Blue Bird bus onto the steep bank of the Middle Fork of the Salmon River, also known as the River of No Return. Banners pasted on both sides of the bus read Bomar Marine Racing Team, a name with no connection to reality. We just liked the way it sounded.

After a long night of partying, we struggled out of our tents at first light, broke camp, and shoved our three oar-powered Avon Adventurer rafts into the rushing river.

The guy in the lead boat was an investment banker from Denver who answered only to the name Mad Dog. Since he was the only one of us who had paddled this river, we counted on him to warn us before we reached any especially treacherous rapid. Because he was serious about having his beer cold, he had filled a mesh bag with dozens of cans of Coors beer and tied it to trail behind his boat in the icy water. Within the first mile, reckless from three beers at breakfast, he cut too close to a granite ledge. It ripped the bag free, sending every beer can into the dark depths.

From that moment on, he stayed drunk on his only remaining beverage—peppermint schnapps. On the third day, he failed to give us a heads up before we rounded a bend, and there it was, the dreaded Dagger Falls, a 15-foot vertical drop. We dug in with our oars, but all three boats shot over the precipice. We were shaken up, lost some gear, but survived. What I didn’t mention in NO RETURN was that I suffered a cracked rib and rowed the remaining two days in periodic agony.

Another member of our crew who made it into my novel was Zacky, as beautiful and mysterious in real life as in fiction. She read paperbacks, often soggy, on the river and took solo walks out of sight on shore. She interacted with the rest of us as though she were an alien sent to observe our compulsion to risk our lives in tumultuous water crashing over craggy boulders.

I couldn’t resist exporting one more of our eccentric paddlers into NO RETURN. His rounded body and upward-tilting nose reminded me of an Emperor Penguin. Although he called himself Feed Bag on the river, he became Levi in his fictional life, a big-time bond trader in Manhattan who bet the survival of his company on a daily basis.

In each of my novels, two or more of the characters are real people I’ve encounter during my own adventures. Transforming them into fiction is one of my favorite challenges as an author.

About Rob Sangster

Yampa River – 1975

Rob Sangster’s first Jack Strider novel, Ground Truth, was #1 on Amazon Kindle. His second, Deep Time, won the 2017 EPIC Award for best suspense/thriller of the year. A Stanford lawyer with experience in finance, politics, and public service, he’s an avid sailor who has traveled in more than 100 countries. Rob and his mystery writer wife divide their time between their homes in Tennessee and on the wild coast of Nova Scotia.

EPIC Award Winner

“Wild ride, in-depth characters, compelling plot, cutting-edge issues.” Marq de Villiers, prize winning author, Order of Canada award.

“Masterful, high-stakes suspense thriller.” Lisa Turner, best selling mystery writer, Edgar Award nominee.

A disaster lurks beneath the ocean floor.

A riveting Jack Strider suspense.

Deep in the Earth’s crust beneath the Pacific Ocean lies an ancient site likely to be the birthplace of life on our planet . . .

And a portal into unimaginable forces and incredible wealth . .

A place where large ships mysteriously disappear, including the vessel carrying Jack Strider’s goddaughter, Katie . . .

A greedy energy baron risks everything to pursue vast supplies of power trapped deep in the Pacific Ocean sea bed off the Oregon coast. But the man’s psychopathic scheme is about to launch a terrifying tsunami that will destroy the entire west coast of the United States. Strider’s beautiful, brilliant partner in law and love joins the fight, and Jack leads a desperate attack on the largest offshore platform ever built. Jack Strider may be the only man who can stop the disaster that is already underway . . . or maybe no one can.

Rob Sangster’s Deep Time is on sale now until the 31st! Find it on Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Google, and Apple!

A Tale Of Two Heroes

By Kathleen Eagle

This is one of my favorite covers. Sunrise Song is a serious story, and this is a serious guy. It’s also a Romance. The heroes–two for the price of one–are irresistible. The title fits the story, which is romantically uplifting. And the setting is wild and wondrous. It’s all here, on the face of a work of fiction, the proverbial lie that tells the truth.

Years ago my husband, Clyde, participated in a conference that featured a presentation on Hiawatha Asylum For Insane Indians in Canton, SD. It was operated by the government from 1903 to 1935, when a new administration investigated it and shut it down. Clyde–who is Lakota grew up on the South Dakota side of Standing Rock Sioux Reservation–had never heard of any asylum for “insane Indians.” We were intrigued and decided to drive down to take a look. The buildings were long ago replaced by a community hospital adjacent to a 9-hole golf course, which surrounds the burial place for at least 121 asylum “patients,” whose names are engraved on a single memorial. A golf tournament was going on around us as we read the names, and a ball dropped over the fence. I could almost hear the ghosts laughing.

I think those spirits helped me come up with an idea for a story. It would invite readers to walk in Indian Country with two sets of flesh-and-blood characters in a story that tugs at the heartstrings, at once gritty and hopeful, as women’s fiction is wont to be.

Researching the place proved challenging. Nothing had been written about it. Back home the elders who remembered hearing of the asylum said people spoke of it in whispers back in the day for fear of “being taken away.” You didn’t have to be insane, they said. Just uncooperative. Maybe you were as traditional as your grandparents, and you“spoke Indian”or you ran away from boarding school. I needed to know all that and much more. Both sides. With the help of a librarian at the SD State Library I got copies of old reports from their historical files.

In the years since we did our research, the site has been added to the National Registry of Historic Places. Sunrise Song was favorably reviewed in the Canton SD newspaper. And I received a letter from a woman who grew up in Canton. Her family lived close to the asylum, parents worked there. They admired Dr. Hummer, the supervisor of the asylum, who was fired after the D.C. administrators got around investigating the program. The letter writer said she’d read my book, and she was deeply moved. She remembered visiting with patients–inmates, really–through the fence. And now she wondered whether anything her parents told her was true. She couldn’t ask them. Her father, a local farmer hired to manage the asylum’s farm, and her mother, a cook, had long since passed away.  Now it was my turn to be deeply moved by someone who was there, and who was able to look back at her own story and turn the coin over, really look at the other side. She thanked me for writing Sunrise Song.

Fiction is written to entertain, but it can do much more. It can allow us to walk the road less traveled wearing the shoes of someone living in a place among people we know little about. Books, books, books–surely you are the salt of the earth.

Happy reading!

Kathleen Eagle

Sunrise Song by Kathleen Eagle is only $0.99 until the 31st! Find it on Amazon, Kobo, Barnes & Noble, Google, and Apple!

Award winning, C. Hope Clark, gives us some insight on writing the latest installment in the Edisto Island Mysteries series: Dying on Edisto

Dying On Edisto releases March 29th and is available for preorder now! 

When Jane Meets Sally

How to Write a Crossover Book

By C. Hope Clark

Embarrassingly, I never heard of the term Crossover Book until my publisher asked me to write one. Then once I realized what it was, an Oh, crap, how am I going to do this! rolled through my head.

A crossover occurs when the characters of one book (or series) cross paths with those in another book (or series). Sounds simple enough. That is until you start putting words to paper, then all those nasty little details start getting in the way.

Dying on Edisto is the crossover, a brand new release, and it falls under the Edisto Island Mystery Series. Number five, to be precise. The protagonist is Edisto Beach Police Chief Callie Morgan who used to be a top-notch Boston detective until the Russian mob killed her husband. She went crazy chasing the killer, took to the bottle, lost her job, and moved herself and son back down South, planting herself on South Carolina’s Edisto Beach, her childhood vacation place. Recognizing the talent, the beach offered her the badge, and there she resides and solves crime. . . crimes most of the lazy beach community  never knew it had.

Great detective, but still needs to work on herself.

Enter Carolina Slade, aka Slade because she hates the feminine sound of her first name which says a lot about her from the outset. Originally a Department of Agriculture bureaucrat, she once found herself in the middle of a bribery investigation, and after almost losing her job, family, and life, still decided she loved solving cases. Coupled with federal agent Wayne Largo, whom she met on that case, they travel the state of South Carolina handling department criminal activity. You haven’t seen crime until you see it in the country where you can more easily get away with all types of creative wrongdoing.

You haven’t ever seen crime solved Slade’s way.

Challenge number one: Who would be the alpha?

Each protagonist is in charge of a series for a reason, they want it. They are interesting enough to carry off the role. When you have two equally qualified leading players, who do you select to run the show?

An author who I admire in her crossover work is Lisa Gardner, suspense author extraordinaire. She has crossed over characters in three series, and maybe it’s her example that helped me put my head on straight, but trust me, that head didn’t think straight for months into this project.

The key is to recognize who is the main character. How does a mother pick which of her children to favor?

The tiebreaker turned out to be setting. Callie manages the Edisto Island area. Slade travels the state. Logistically it proved easier to sent Slade to Edisto than yank Callie out of her jurisdiction. So Edisto it was.

But Slade kept finding the body first in all my scenarios.

Regardless the angle, Slade kept stumbling upon the body. We didn’t want the cop to find the body, with Slade being little more than a consultant who happened to visit the beach.

Solution?

We gave Slade a prologue of three hundred words and let her find the body. Then a fully-fleshed out Chapter One became Callie’s as she rightfully seized the story as hers, forced to deal with this clumsy oaf of a tourist who traipsed all over her crime scene.

Challenge number two: Are they friends or foe? Cooperative or adversarial?

After all, they’re both used to running the show. Do we put Slade in the back seat or make the two ladies enemies?

Solution?

As with any mystery, conflict rules the day. They clash from the outset, but it’s up to each of them to decide if they can work with the other on behalf of the case. Could they get along long enough to share evidence, or gasp, ultimately like each other? As a minimum, we realized that their personalities certainly had to add obstacles to the sleuthing, and the ending was up to them. We just knew we could not disappoint the Slade fans nor the Callie fans.

Challenge number three: How to write each lady’s point-of-view.

Slade’s books are in first person, and Callie’s are in third, designed that way from the outset so when I sat down to write, the POV put the right character in my mind without the other’s voice intruding. But now I had both in one story.

Solution?

We left Slade with her first person and Callie with her third. Not only did the characters remain true to form as represented in their series, but the switch aided the reader in the transition from chapter to chapter.

Challenge number four: How to keep the guest character from overwhelming the primary.

Slade is a rowdier, more visual person. Callie can be stoic but forceful. Put them in the room and turn them loose, however, and Slade initially takes the attention by sheer personality. She’s not the neatest or shrewdest crime-solver, ignoring rules in preference to following them, she draws a crowd.

Solution?

Slade’s chapters became shorter, and Callie was given twice as many chapters. After all, she was in charge of the investigation. We needed to be in her head more and make her in charge. It was the only way to rein in Slade and make her behave.

Challenge number five: Which sidekicks do we include?

Each has a cadre of strong secondary characters that weigh in on whatever catastrophe each lady tackles. To bring them all in, from both worlds, would create a three-ring circus. Does Slade even become a secondary character, or is she higher on the ladder than the secondary characters already on Edisto? Can she function without her own team of secondaries from her own series?

Solution?

Since Slade was the guest, she only allowed her to bring beau and partner, Wayne Largo. Besides, a federal agent could come in handy for Callie…and make her wonder about her own dismal love-life watching Slade and Wayne together. Since we’re in Callie’s world, however, we’ll see her sidekicks more, entertaining the reader by making Slade interact with some of the zaniest, just to spice up the mix and throw her off her game.

The balance here is juggling Team Slade versus Team Callie. Each comes with her own set of readers who will pick up the book already rooting for one over the other. The writing wisdom comes in accenting both of the protagonists’ strengths, capitalizing on their weaknesses, and avoiding the messiness of simply doubling everything from two series into one.

What we didn’t want to do is throw Slade into the Edisto world and have her accomplish nothing. We weren’t interested in a token or cameo presence. The goal was for the Edisto readers to pick up Dying on Edisto, fall into the character dynamics, and pique an interest in the Slade series. And of course, we would hope the Slade readers would hear about Slade’s appearance in the Edisto series, and pick up those books as well.

It’s strategy, both in the writing and the promotion. We don’t hide the fact that we’d love all the readers to fall in love with both series. They can have a favorite. That’s part of the fun. But if they become intrigued enough in the other world, too, we all win.

About C. Hope Clark

Hope Clark founded FundsforWriters two decades ago when she could not find what she wanted for her own writing career. Today, she is editor of FundsforWriters and an award-winning author of  two mystery series. She and her motivational voice, love of writing, and writer support message appear often at conferences, nonprofit galas, book clubs, libraries, and writers’ groups across the country. With her knowledge, she offers HOPE to writers in their endeavors as evidenced by the 35,000 readers of her newsletter.

Holding Out for an Angel

 By Skye Taylor

     “So?” Tony asked, leaning back in his chair with his hands clasped behind his head. “You guys making any New Year’s resolutions?”

Jake looked up from his book. “Why? Nobody ever keeps them?”

“Top of my list is to stay away from she-devils.” The fact that his ex-fiancé had thrown his ring in his face the night before their wedding had left Sam Westmoreland more than a little hurt and wary of women in general. A recent blind date had reinforced his self-protective instincts.

“Not all women are like that,” Tony argued. Newly married himself and still over the moon about his bride, he was eager to share his happiness with his closest friends. Jake was already married, to his high school sweetheart with a precious little girl to love. It only remained to get his buddy Sam hooked up with the right woman.

The three friends had grown up together and while they all had very different day-jobs, they really loved their part-time volunteer positions with the Tide’s Way fire department, and always did their best to get scheduled to work the same shifts – usually the night shift.

Tonight was New Year’s Eve and likely to be crazier than usual, at least for the ambulance crew, which included Tony and Sam. They’d tried to talk Jake into taking the EMT courses with them, but he’d had an unfortunate experience with a premature birth the previous year and didn’t think he was cut out for medical emergencies. He preferred dashing into burning buildings to perform his rescues. But for the moment, nothing bad was happening in town and they were sitting around the table in the firehouse, feet up and relaxing with the television tuned into the festivities in Time’s Square.

“You just need to meet the right woman.”

“That’s what you said when you talked me into taking your wife’s co-worker out to dinner.” Never had Sam enjoyed an evening with a beautiful woman less. The woman had been so full of herself no one else mattered, including the man who was footing the bill and trying to remain a gentleman in spite of her nastiness to him and everyone else.

Tony had the grace to look sheepish. “Yeah, that was a mistake. I had no idea.”  He’d been embarrassed by the woman’s behavior and eventually he and Sam had retreated to the bar and left Tony’s wife to cope with her friend alone. The double date had been her idea, and her responsibility.

“So, what do you think, Jake?” Tony pulled Jake’s attention out his book a second time.

“What do I think about what”

“Sam here. He needs a good woman. Know any?”

Jake looked at Sam with a strange, sad expression in his eyes. Sam suspected Jake’s marriage wasn’t the blissful union Tony’s was, but Jake would never admit it. He’d gotten his girlfriend pregnant and done the right thing by her, giving up his plans to go to college and diving into the working world to support his new family.

“What are the criteria?” Tony asked holding up one hand, fingers splayed. “Dynamite looks.” He folded down one finger. “Fabulous cook. Great in the sack.” He continued to fold down fingers as he ticked off desirable traits in the perfect woman.

“I’m holding out for an angel,” Sam said shaking his head. “Looks can be deceiving. I can teach her how to cook if I have to, and we can teach each other what feels great in bed. But she has to have the heart of an angel.”

“How will you know?” Tony raised his brows. “Barbara seemed pretty angelic to me and you did put a ring on her finger so you must have thought so at the time.”

“I’ll just know.” If experience had taught Sam anything, it was to see beyond the tumbling locks of silky hair and a sexy body. He’d be looking into her eyes. Into her soul next time. He wanted a woman who was kind and loving from the inside out. A woman he could trust with his heart. “I’ll know it here.” He tapped his chest. “Gut feeling.”

Jake snorted. “Good luck with that.”

Before either Tony or Sam could reply the blare of the alarm brought their feet slamming to the floor. The evening mayhem had begun.

     Ariel couldn’t believe she’d been talked into this stupid party. A costume party? On New Year’s Eve? Who had costume parties on New Year’s Eve? Worse was the man she’d agreed to attend with.

The only reason Craig would have asked her to be his date had to be pressure from her uncle who was his boss. Poor Ariel, always the wall-flower, and Uncle Max was determined to get her married off to an up-and-comer. A handsome man with a rich future. You need to have confidence in yourself, Uncle Max liked to tell her.

If only it were that easy. Men didn’t get in line for mousy little women like her. Everything about her was mousy, from the mousy brown hair to her slightly overgenerous curves and too few inches to her less than vivacious personality. It was easy for Uncle Max – he was outgoing, handsome, and bigger than life. He had no idea what it was like to be her. Or what it had been like to be overlooked her entire life – last girl chosen for any team, least likely to be asked out, never called on in class.

She had two truly dear friends and she wished she’d stayed home with them tonight, curled up in her jammies, eating too many forbidden treats, watching the ball drop in Time’s Square. But no. Here she was, dressed in this ridiculous angel costume, waiting for an Uber ride because Craig hadn’t even waited until midnight to find someone with long legs and a willingness to jump into bed. As the ball dropped and everyone else was kissing and tooting horns, she was once again relegated to wall-flower status. No New Year’s kiss for her. No happy wishes and hugs. No flute of champagne to clink against her date’s.

“Are you Miss Thomas?”

So wrapped up in her little pity party, Ariel hadn’t seen the little blue Toyota pull up.

“I am. Sorry.”

The young man leaned across and pushed the door open for her. He had dark skin, a head full of unruly curls, and a wide, friendly grin. “Hop in. You look cold.”

“It’s this absurd outfit,” Ariel said as she slid into the front seat, doing her best to fold the flapping wings behind her and subdue the flowing white gown before shutting the door. “A teddy bear costume would have been a better choice tonight.”

The man eyed her from the ring of glitter meant to be a halo to her feet clad in white ballet slippers and shook his head. “What made you choose it in the first place?” He pulled away from the curb and melted into the flow of traffic.

“Not my idea,” she defended herself. “It was my date’s.”

Uber man glanced at her quickly before turning his attention back to the road that appeared slick and black and maybe even icy. “Where’s the date now?”

Ariel gazed out the side window, not wanting to see the pity in the man’s eyes. She shrugged. “Not a clue.”

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.” He hunched forward in his seat, looking more closely at the road. “It sure is nasty out tonight.”

“Umm.” Ariel agreed. Nasty in more ways than just the weather.

Not that she’d expected anything better from Craig.

Somewhere, out there, she was sure the right man for her existed. It was how to go about finding him that had her baffled. He had to be kind. And thoughtful. He had to be the sort of man who did things for others because he cared and not because it brought him gain or advancement. The kind of man who would rescue an abandoned animal, or offer comfort to a frightened child and didn’t expect to get paid for doing it. In her line of work, she hadn’t met many men who fit that description, though. Everyone in the investment firm where her Uncle Max had gotten her a job seemed to tag dollar signs onto every transaction, even human ones.

Her attention was suddenly jerked back to the road as the little Toyota slithered sideways and her driver fought with the wheel. A mini-van coming in the other direction was having the same problem. All that inky black was ice after all.

She saw it coming and braced her feet hard against the floorboards. The Uber driver cursed fluently, and Ariel tried not to scream, but fear won out. Then came an awful crashing, the sound of shattering glass, and the car spun wildly. Three times it spun before the rear struck something immovable and the Toyota came to a jarring, painful halt.

     Sam was out of the ambulance before Tony brought it to a complete stop. He opened a hatch and grabbed a first-in bag and then ran toward a little Toyota with its rear end crumpled against a telephone pole.

He tried the passenger side door and thankfully, it opened easily. An angel half fell into his arms, restrained only by her seat belt.

He gaped at the vision, the glittering halo in her soft brown curls, and the flowing white gown that swallowed her small body. Then he shook off his stunned hesitation and spoke to her.

“Ma’am? Are you hurt?”

She pushed at his chest trying to right herself. “Please check on the driver. I think he’s hurt worse than me.”

Sam glanced across the interior of the car. His angel was probably right. The man did look worse.

“Don’t move,” he advised her as he reached across to put two fingers on the man’s neck checking for a pulse. The man was alive, at least for now. But blood poured from a gash across the man’s forehead.

Sam straightened and whistled to get Tony’s attention. He pointed toward the driver’s side, and his partner altered his course to come up on the other side of the Toyota.

“What’s your name?” Sam squatted down beside the fallen angel and began a visual assessment of her condition. “Do you know what day it is?”

She pushed his hand away when he shone his penlight into her eyes. “Ariel and it’s New Year’s Eve. But there’s another car. A minivan, I mean. It went into the ditch.” She tried to sit up and point.

She had cuts on her face and hands, but her seat belt had kept her from smashing her head on the dash and she appeared to be coherent, so Sam reluctantly stood and looked toward the ditch.

The taillights of the other vehicle glowed red in the dark, but that was all he could see of it.

“Don’t move. I’ll be right back,” Sam told the angel. Then he jogged toward the ditch.

     Ariel hurt everywhere, but considering the frantic work going on next to her, she was lucky. She glanced back toward the edge of the road and saw her rescuer assist a man up onto the road. With his shoulder under the other man’s armpit they made their way toward the ambulance. The EMT helped the guy to sit, but the other driver kept pointing toward his minivan and arguing. Finally the EMT left him and trotted back to the minivan.

Someone else must have been inside besides just the driver. She wanted to help, but the man had told her to stay put. He’d been gentle, about it, but there had been a no-nonsense tone to his voice. She did as he asked.

A moment later he reappeared, carrying a golden retriever in his arms. The dog was clearly alive because he was licking the man’s face, but it looked like the dog’s leg might be broken. It hung at an odd angle. Their rescuer pulled a blanket from the ambulance and kicked it open with one toe, then gently laid the dog down. He squatted next to the dog and scratched it behind the ears before giving it a quick examination. Then he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and made a call.

~~~~~

     “You two are a match made in heaven,” Tony said grinning.

“I told you I was holding out for an angel. I just didn’t know God would take me so literally.” Sam was grinning, too. He hadn’t stopped grinning in months. Not since his angel had fallen into his arms. The fact that her name meant Angel was just frosting on the cake. She’d been more concerned about everyone but herself that awful night. Even the dog had come before worrying about her own injuries. As they’d gotten to know each other better, he’d discovered she was everything he’d had on his list. Kind from the inside out. Sweet, caring, gentle and oh, my God, could she kiss.

She could kiss the socks off him, and as he watched her dance with her Uncle Max, her white wedding dress swirling about her perfect little body, with a halo of tiny white flowers in her hair, he was looking forward to a lifetime of angel kisses.

Sale Alert!

Falling for Zoe (where Sam is first mentioned) is on sale for only $0.99!

Today is the last day!

Happy New Year!

Small Southern Towns: They Ain’t Always Quaint

By C. Hope Clark

     Born in Mississippi and raised in South Carolina, my roots run crazy deep into the Delta soil of one state and the Lowcountry pluff mud of the other. My grandfather ran a cotton farm, and my grandmother taught me to eat homemade biscuits with maple syrup warmed on the gas stove. When I told them as a child that picking cotton didn’t look so hard, back before a lot of farmers could afford cotton picker machines, my grandmother sewed a miniature (and floral) cotton sack and ushered me to the fields. I never questioned the ease of manual labor again, especially on a farm.

So no surprise that I wound up with an agriculture degree from Clemson and fell in love with everything rural. After a career in that realm, I turned to writing my mysteries. And guess what showed up in the stories? Crime in the country.

Newberry Sin is the fourth in the Carolina Slade Mystery Series, with the setting in a small rural community actually named Newberry.

All rural Southern communities come off as quaint upon first blush. White antebellum homes, some kept up royally while others are allowed to age, a few not so gracefully. Rockers on the porches and flags on the columns. The American flag, of course, accompanied by the state flag and/or one for the appropriate football-playing university. Azaleas, of course, plus forsythia, dogwood, camellia, and spirea dotting the yards in pastels and white. Southerners love their flowers.

And behind all that charm are stories to curl your toes. The older and more quaint the town, the more stories are whispered behind hands at luncheons and skeletons hid in closets behind the winter coats.

I won’t spill her name, but in my research on small towns, trying to find yet another to use in a novel, this homegrown native greeted me for lunch with a pound cake, apparently a tradition, and she wouldn’t allow me to pay for my own lunch, because I was a guest in HER town. Newberry . . . the center of the universe, she said. “You ought to make us a setting in one of your books.”

She elaborated the details of Revolutionary War skirmishes and the passed-down stories of ghosts, affairs, and what could only be miracles that kept some of their ancestors alive during battles.

Railroads, bars, and (cough) painted ladies helped originate the town. A room still existed in a still-standing community center that harbored any gentleman farmer’s wife for the duration of the time he did business in town, so the wife didn’t come in contact with the street walkers.

Many a husband and son fought in the War Between the States, the cemetery sprawling for acres. Graves still maintained with insignias, with current ancestors maintaining the sites with stiff, admiring pride. Several families retained bragging rights that five ancestors signed the Order of Secession, causing South Carolina to lead the way for 10 other states to follow.

Of course, ghosts abounded, from any and all of the wars, not to mention the occasional lover’s loss, leaving them roaming in search for their paramour. One jumped from the bell tower of the local college. The Bride of West End still awaits her groom for their wedding. Molly’s Rock serves as a magnet for spirits who took their own lives.

Beneath the old Ritz theater, one could supposedly still hear screams where ages ago the homeless were murdered. At the Newberry Opera House, the ghost of Penelope made a fairly frequent appearance, moving seats and closing doors.

And someone way back got in legal trouble, relocated to Australia and became a cannibal.

I couldn’t write it all down.

Newberry has it idiosyncrasies and colored past, but so does every other sweet little Southern town and crossroad. It just takes you inviting someone local to lunch and asking, “I’m looking for a setting for my book.” Honey, you’ll fill a notebook with stuff that isn’t in any history book.

C. Hope Clark’s newest release is Newberry Sin, set in an idyllic small Southern town where blackmail and sex are hush-hush until they become murder. The fourth in the Carolina Slade Mysteries. Hope speaks to conferences, libraries, and book clubs across the country, is a regular podcaster for Writer’s Digest, and adores connecting with others. She is also founder of FundsforWriters.com, an award-winning site and newsletter service for writers. She lives on the banks of Lake Murray in central South Carolina with her federal agent husband where they spin mysteries just for fun. www.chopeclark.com

Newberry Sin

Book 4 of The Carolina Slade Mystery Series

EPIC Award Winning Series

“Author C. Hope Clark brings to life . . . endearing and strong-minded characters that linger in your mind long after the last page is turned.” —New York Times bestselling author Karen White

Beneath an idyllic veneer of Southern country charm, the town of Newberry hides secrets that may have led to murder.

When a local landowner’s body, with pants down, is found near Tarleton’s Tea Table Rock—a notorious rendezvous spot, federal investigator Carolina Slade senses a chance to get back into the field again. Just as she discovers what might be a nasty pattern of fraud and blackmail, her petty boss reassigns her fledgling case to her close friend and least qualified person in their office.

Forced to coach an investigation from the sidelines, Slade struggles with the twin demons of professional jealousy and unplanned pregnancy. Something is rotten in Newberry. Her personal life is spiraling out of control. She can’t protect her co-worker. And Wayne Largo complicates everything when the feds step in after it becomes clear that Slade is right.

One wrong move and Slade may lose everything. Yet it’s practically out of her hands . . . unless she finds a way to take this case back without getting killed.

What inspired you to write Iain’s Plaid?

My first historical romance is a time travel set during the beginnings of the American War for Independence, and several people along the way to getting it published have asked me what inspired me to write this particular book. So here’s the answer to that query.

Back when I lived on the Maine coast, I came across a book by Bill Caldwell, The Islands of Maine, Where America Really Began. It was a fascinating book about the earliest European settlers in New England. From my front yard I could one of those islands mentioned in Mr. Caldwell’s book. Historian Charles K. Bolton also mentioned this island called Damariscove in his book, The Real Founders of New England, noting that four hundred years ago, “Here was the chief maritime port of New England. Here was the rendezvous for English, French and Dutch ships crossing the Atlantic. Here men bartered with one another and with Indians, drank, gambled, quarreled and sold indentured servants.” Four hundred of years ago, two hundred years before the Pilgrims arrived in Plymouth on the Mayflower, there were “wharves, salting houses (for fish) sheds, boatyards, taverns and perhaps a bawdy house or two for sailors coming ashore after a long Atlantic Crossing” clustered on this tiny island.

Edward Winslow, the Pilgrim representative who came begging for food and supplies in 1622, wrote in his journal that he and his group were graciously welcomed with “Kind entertainment and good respect and a willingness to supply our needs . . . and that there were 30 ships of sail anchored in the harbor.”

Damariscove Island is only two miles long and not more than a quarter mile wide, yet, in 1675 three hundred refugees fleeing Indian wrath sheltered here. A century later, just before the start of the Revolutionary War, a British Naval captain put ashore here and stole 75 sheep to feed his sailors before turning south to burn present day Portland to the ground. During the war of 1812 (the Second War of Independence) the HMS Boxer and the USS Enterprise fought a famous sea battle so close to the island that the inhabitants of Damariscove watched the fight from their own shore. (Just another bit of interesting history, the captain of HMS Boxer, Samuel Blyth, who was just 29 years old, and the American Lieutenant William Burrows, age 28, who captained the USS Enterprise, were both killed in the battle and were buried side by side in a cemetery in Portland, Maine with full military honors.)

Is it any wonder that I was fascinated with this scrap of land I could see from my front yard? So, one glorious summer day, my dad, my daughter, and I sailed out to Damariscove to explore this scrap of an island with so much history. As I stood gazing down at the narrow harbor, Winslow’s words came back to me, and I marveled that 30 sailing ships big enough to cross the Atlantic could have fit in that long gut of bright blue water. There were, just as Bill Caldwell had described, many old granite foundations scattered on the high ground above the harbor and as I stood on the cornerstone of one of the largest foundations, I tried to imagine this island full of people and what life might have been like here in an era when brave young captains ventured forth to harass the British Navy or carry ships filled with salted cod and furs across the Atlantic to Europe. There were tales of a ghost who roamed the island with his faithful dog, but I saw no sign of him. Or any of the other souls who had called this place home for hundreds of years.

Then the rock beneath my feet wobbled. I jumped back alarmed, not wanting to tumble into the long abandoned cellar hole. But as I watched a small shower of loose gravel and dirt tumble into the daisy-lined hole the seemingly random thought came to me, “What if I fell in, hit my head, and was knocked unconscious. And what if when I came to my senses again there were sturdy floor joists over my head and a door enclosing me in a basement filled with the sorts of things kept in basements a long time ago?” As we climbed back in our dinghy and headed back to the sailboat, that question continued to rattle around in my head and that was inspiration for my story, Iain’s Plaid. My heroine, Dani Amico. did just as I had done. With a fascination in American History, she sailed out to explore and she really did fall into that hole and woke up over 200 years in the past, shut up in a cellar belonging to a reluctant patriot. I hope you enjoy reading Dani and Iain’s story as much as I enjoyed imagining and writing it.

Iain’s Plaid is on sale – just 99¢ until April 15^th.

Was she sent back in time to change Iain’s fate . . . or share it?

Caught between a job offer she should take and a marriage proposal she doesn’t want, Dani Amico is dying for some adventure. So she takes off to visit some of the places on her bucket list. The first – an abandoned island she read about while researching her American History thesis. While there, she tumbles into an abandoned cellar hole . . . and wakes up more than two centuries in the past.

It’s 1775 and Iain MacKail’s ship is loaded with contraband he is smuggling into Boston. This unknown Dani, the “boy” he found in his cellar, could be a spy for the British customs agents, so Iain is forced to take the boy with him to insure that he and his mission are not compromised. Only he soon finds out that this ”boy” is so much more.

As they travel through pre-revolutionary New England, Dani realizes she’s falling for the rugged Scotsman. But she can’t forget something she came across in her studies—the fate of Iain MacKail. He would be betrayed by someone close to him and suddenly disappear from history. Could this be the reason Dani fell through time—to save Iain? Could they live and love together in this war-torn time?

Then again, if she tries—and fails—to change his fate . . . will she end up sharing it?

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Author Susan Kearney opens up about what inspired her to write A Dragon of Legend: Lucan!

According to legend, the Holy Grail could cure sickness of those who drank from it—but no one knows if it ever really existed. And that’s perfect material for a writer. Because we have so little factual evidence about it, that leaves room for my fertile imagination to make things up.

I got to play “what if?” What if the Holy Grail could really make someone immortal? It would be the ultimate prize throughout the galaxy. What if the Holy Grail didn’t come from Earth? But suppose we found a star map that led us to it? Wouldn’t it be fun to hunt for the Grail? And what would happen if we found it? Or if our worst enemy found it?

The possibilities are infinite. And that’s just the kind of legend I like—one I can manipulate to fit the kinds of books I write. Science fiction romances or futuristic romance.

I’ve always loved stories about treasures, stories about brave men and women who were willing to risk their lives to help their worlds. And in A Dragon of Legend, I got the chance to create a character determined to find the Grail—even if he had to cross the galaxy to do it. Of course my sexy archaeologist was shocked to find a world called Pendragon, and an edifice called Avalon, where the natives believed the ancient ones had hidden the Holy Grail.

After all, it made sense to protect the most valuable object in the galaxy behind the walls of an impregnable edifice. Only when Lucan teams up with the sexy High Priestess of Avalon does he stand a chance of finding his prize. Only, he doesn’t count on her being a dragon shaper and that she wants the Grail for her own people.
Oh, yes, searching for the Grail isn’t easy—especially with Earth’s greatest enemy after the prize as well…

A Dragon of Legend is on sale for only $0.99 until the 15th!

“A sexy, exciting futuristic series.” Bookloons.com

The Pendragon Legacy, Book 1: Lucan

Legend, love, and honor collide . . .

For Lucan Roarke, failure is not an option. If he fails, Earth perishes. Ancient clues have led him to the planet Pendragon, the last known resting place of the mythical Holy Grail—Earth’s last chance.

Lady Cael, high priestess and the only dragonshaper on her world, is destined to live a life untouched by love and mate. When she agrees to aid Lucan in his desperate search, she must fight the passionate attraction growing between them. She’s been less than truthful, and if they succeed in recovering the Grail, she will be honor bound to betray Lucan. And Earth.

When Cael finally admits the terrifying truth, she shatters Lucan and threatens his mission. To save humanity, he must make a catastrophic choice.

Will he choose honor or love?

Author June Trop gives some insight into the world of alchemy…

ALCHEMY: A SERIOUS BUSINESS

Perhaps to you the word “alchemy” conjures up images of sinister laboratories, black-robed sorcerers, or even quackery. Still, for thousands of years, the most accomplished intellectuals of their time, such as Isaac Newton, studied alchemy earnestly. Even now its study continues through the Society for the History of Alchemy and Chemistry [SHAC], founded in 1935. Surely something studied for so many thousands of years is a serious business.

Until the nineteenth century, alchemists like the one in the painting here, were hanged on gilded gallows dressed in grotesque gold robes. Otherwise, they faced imprisonment and torture until they divulged their secrets. The promise of gold has always been a serious business.

In the Roman Empire during the first-century CE, the setting of my Miriam bat Isaac Mystery Series, all alchemists wrote under the name of a deity, prophet, or philosopher from an earlier time – perhaps to enhance the authenticity of their claims, but certainly to shield themselves from persecution. Amid accusations of cheating their clients, destabilizing the currency, or worst yet, of financing the overthrow of the Empire, they could be arrested, tortured, and executed. The Romans certainly took the business of alchemy seriously.

No wonder in THE DEADLIEST HATE, Miriam ventures to Caesarea to trace an alchemical document. Can she discover its provenance while eluding assassins and protecting a secret of her own? Be serious. Find out. Read THE DEADLIEST HATE.

On sale until the 15th for only $0.99!

A Miriam bat Isaac Mystery, Book 2

Winner of Honorable Mention for fiction in the 2016 New York Book Festival.

The Roman Empire may be the least of her enemies.

A secret alchemical recipe to transmute copper into gold surfaces in first-century CE Caesarea. As soon as Miriam sets out to trace the leak, Judean terrorists target her for assassination. Eluding the assassins while protecting a secret of her own, she discovers that she, herself, is responsible for the leak. Moreover she is powerless to stop its spread throughout the Empire and beyond.

But who is really trying to kill Miriam? Is it a case of mistaken identity, or is her late-fiancé’s ex-scribe, now an assistant to the Procurator of Judea, seeking to avenge an old grudge? Or is her heartthrob’s half-brother, a Judean patriot who inherited his mother’s mania, afraid Miriam knows too much?

And how did the recipe find its way from Alexandria to Caesarea anyway?

June Trop (Zuckerman) has had over forty years of experience as an award-winning teacher and educator. Now associate professor emerita at the State University of New York at New Paltz, she spends her time breathlessly following her intrepid protagonist, Miriam bat Isaac, who is back in the underbelly of Alexandria, once again searching for a murderer in The Deadliest Sport while worrying about her brother. junetrop.com

Meet the Author

It’s release week for our newest author, Paula Millhouse, so we wanted to know more about her and her book, Hunters’ Watch Brigade: Initiation. (Publishing Friday, March 9th!)

Who are you and what do you write?
I’m Paula Millhouse, and I write stories where fantasy, romance, and suspense collide. My latest series, the Hunters’ Watch Brigade, tells the stories of monster-hunters who police the universe for bad supernaturals.

Tell us what you love about your story?
In the first book of the series, HWB: Initiation, I love how my heroine Samantha digs deep to rescue her mother from a witch with a vendetta. The action was fun to write, but the family elements I wove through each of the stories stole the show. Yes, it’s urban fantasy with tons of amazing magic and a heavy dose of paranormal romance on the side, but my characters struggle with family issues like we all do. My characters prove the theme, love is worth fighting for.

Describe your antagonist.
Francesca Rosencratz, a very powerful witch, wants Sam’s head on a spike. Francesca’s a scorned woman who wants revenge. She’s not above commiserating with vampires to make Sam’s life a living hell.

Why does your heroine have to deal with your antagonist?
When Francesca kidnaps Sam’s mother Helmina, Sam will stop at nothing to get her back. From the shores of Key West, to Poseidon’s undersea palace, all the way to the streets of Manhattan, Sam and her familiar, Max, are in a race against time to stop Francesca and her henchmen from destroying the Hunters’ Watch Brigade.

What’s the black moment in your story?
For Sam, it’s when she realizes she’ll have to give up on her romance with Max, the love of her life, in order to protect him from Francesca and her allies.

What specifically does your heroine learn from your antagonist?
The value of family, and the power of collaboration. Sam learns justice does exist, love is worth fighting for, and happy ever afters are possible, even for supernaturals.

Want to know more?

Hunters’ Watch Brigade: Initiation is available now for preorder!

Hunters’ Watch Brigade, Book 1

It’s never just another day at the office . . .

Demigod Samantha Silverton, a full-time monster hunter in the Hunters’ Watch Brigade, is on a mission with her familiar, Max, to hunt down a scorned mermaid when she finds out she has bigger fish to fry. Her mother—a powerful witch—has been abducted. And the most likely villain is her mother’s enemy, Francesca Rosencratz.

Being a familiar to a sexy monster hunter has its perks, but Max wants more. He might look like a cat, but he’s also Sam’s best friend . . . and the man who loves her. But in order to defeat Francesca, he’ll have to shift into his human form, something he’s avoided. Because once he’s officially a shifter, he’ll have to join the Brigade. And that could take him away from Sam for good.

But Francesca’s becoming increasingly dangerous. She and a mysterious ally are working to take down the Brigade, and take over the paranormal community. Sam will have to dig deep if she’s going to save her mom. But Max will have to risk even more . . . to save Sam.

When supernatural creatures go rogue, who are you going to call?

The Hunters’ Watch Brigade!

Paula Millhouse was born and raised in Savannah, Georgia, where Spanish moss whispers tales in breezes from the Atlantic Ocean to her soul. As a child, she soaked in the sunshine and heritage of cobblestones, pirate lore, and stories steeped in savory mysteries of the South.

She lives in the mountains now, but honors her Southern heritage as a story teller by sharing high-heat adventures with her readers. Escape your daily routine with books where justice does exist, true love is worth fighting for, and happily ever afters are expected. paulamillhouse.com

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!