Forward to Camelot Super Book Blast

Forward to Camelot

by Susan Sloate and Kevin Finn

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BLURB:

WHERE WERE YOU THE DAY KENNEDY WAS SAVED?

On the 50th anniversary of the JFK assassination comes a new edition of the extraordinary time-travel thriller first published in 2003 with a new Afterword from the authors.

On November 22, 1963, just hours after President Kennedy’s assassination, Lyndon Johnson was sworn in as President aboard Air Force One using JFK’s own Bible. Immediately afterward, the Bible disappeared. It has never been recovered. Today, its value would be beyond price.

In the year 2000, actress Cady Cuyler is recruited to return to 1963 for this Bible—while also discovering why her father disappeared in the same city, on the same tragic day. Finding frightening links between them will lead Cady to a far more perilous mission: to somehow prevent the President’s murder, with one unlikely ally: an ex-Marine named Lee Harvey Oswald.

Forward to Camelot: 50th Anniversary Edition brings together an unlikely trio: a gallant president, the young patriot who risks his own life to save him, and the woman who knows their future, who is desperate to save them both.

History CAN be altered …

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Excerpt Five:

I felt as though I’d been struck in the face. Here were clear, non-Polaroid photos of my father, in black and white but sharp and full of detail. He was so handsome, I thought, a little surprised. The fuzzy old Polaroids my mother had framed so painstakingly didn’t do him justice. His hair was thick, cropped close to his head and brushed faultlessly, his strong-planed face bare of stubble, his tan—obvious even in black and white—glowing like a movie star’s. His high-bridged nose was as perfect as his beautifully shaped eyebrows and the thick crescent of lashes rimming deep-set eyes—eyes that appeared to be the same gray as my own.

Wow, I thought, but didn’t say it. He looked vibrant, confident, and in control, a man at the top of his game. Yet he had been lost.

It was such a tragedy.

“Where did you get these?”

George shook his head. “We have our sources.” Abruptly, he changed the subject. “Quite a resemblance,” he said quietly, nodding at me.

I looked at the photographs again. While some of my features might resemble his, somehow I felt like the negative of the photograph, with him as the positive. That energy and the sense of firm purpose—I swear I could see it in his face—was missing in my life.

“We don’t look that much alike.”

“That’s debatable. Apparently, though, you share a talent: your father was a devoted amateur actor. He was in acting troupes everywhere that he lived from adolescence onward.”

“He was?” My mother had never told me this.

“Mm. And he was good: great at accents, great at imitating people, great with makeup—he certainly had the looks. Even did Shakespeare with one group.”

“She never told me,” I said slowly. Why not?

I knew I idealized my father, because she had. How often had she told me what a kind and loving man he was, how thrilled at the thought of becoming a father, how solicitous of her… how often had she sighed, when she thought I was out of earshot, “I had everything then”? What she’d been left with—an unborn child and an unknowable future—was a real comedown from what she’d had. I’d always accepted it, because she did try to help me be a part of this family that had never lived together, telling me of the walks they’d taken, the laughing arguments they’d had over my name, their picking out furniture for the nursery she’d never furnished in Dallas, because they were planning to place the order the day after he disappeared…

I shook myself out of my reverie and asked, “What else?”

George gave me a sharp look. “You knew your father was in the Office of Naval Intelligence during World War II?”

“Yes, I think so.” I’d heard my mother talking vaguely about this, but because she knew no details, my childish mind had easily jumped to other topics, where she could supply precious pieces of information, and those were the stories I’d demanded over and over: how they met at a coming-out party for one of her friends, how he pursued her through letters (some of which I’d read) until they finally married in 1959, how they’d moved from Connecticut to Miami to Dallas, finally, in 1963. His war service, unknown to my mother and presumably not much discussed between them, interested neither her nor me.

But George surprised me. “Did you know he knew President Kennedy?”

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

SUSAN SLOATE is the author of 20 previous books, including the recent bestseller Stealing Fire and Realizing You (with Ron Doades), for which she invented a new genre: the self-help novel. The original 2003 edition of Forward to Camelot became a #6 Amazon bestseller, took honors in three literary competitions and was optioned by a Hollywood company for film production.

Susan has also written young-adult fiction and non-fiction, including the children’s biography Ray Charles: Find Another Way!, which won the silver medal in the 2007 Children’s Moonbeam Awards. Mysteries Unwrapped: The Secrets of Alcatraz led to her 2009 appearance on the TV series MysteryQuest on The History Channel. Amelia Earhart: Challenging the Skies is a perennial young-adult Amazon bestseller. She has also been a sportswriter and a screenwriter, managed two recent political campaigns and founded an author’s festival in her hometown outside Charleston, SC.

After beginning his career as a television news and sports writer-producer, KEVIN FINN moved on to screenwriting and has authored more than a dozen screenplays. He is a freelance script analyst and has worked for the prestigious American Film Institute Writer’s Workshop Program. He now produces promotional trailers, independent film projects including the 2012 documentary SETTING THE STAGE: BEHIND THE SCENES WITH THE PIRATES OF PENZANCE, and local content for Princeton Community Television.

His next novel, Banners Over Brooklyn, will be released in 2014.

For updates and more information about Forward to Camelot: 50th Anniversary Edition, please visit http://susansloate.com/CAMELOT.html.

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