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Questions and answers about the writing of Jack Canon’s American Destiny

I always wanted to tell this story. I became truly motivated to write it after my mother’s passing. Partially to help me cope with the loss. My family and friends have been very supportive. Funny story – I sat down in the living room in our most comfortable chair and wrote the first paragraph. I liked it even though it didn’t end up making it into the book. Finishing that paragraph I announced to my wife and 22 year old son that I was writing a book. We still laugh about the eye-rolling. The idea came to me all at once – the entire story. I wanted to tell a story of great characters who are the best of friends. There’s tenderness, romance, political corruption at the highest levels; not to leave out murder and revenge.
I don’t get writers block because I wait until the story literally explodes onto the page.
My sister-in-law has already chosen Ben Affleck to play Jack Canon. Funny – I took the first draft to Disney. At first she didn’t have any interest, but my mother-in-law was reading and commenting – enjoying the story. So my sister-in-law, Terri picks up the pages mom had finished and turned them quickly – long story short – she ended up loving Jack! She bought a kindle just to read the final version. The story is basically set in Washington and on the campaign trail and has plenty of corruption, billionaires and beautiful woman to keep the reader entertained. All the following components are featured: Washington Politics, Corruption, Romance, Love, Tenderness, Murder, Love Story, Suspense, President, Power, Passion, Political Thriller

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New Review for Jack Canon’s American Destiny

Loved this book! March 8, 2013
By Stephen Anthony
This is one of the best books I have read in recent memory. It’s an incredibly fast read that will provoke every type of emotion. My favorite part about reading this book was it made me think about what it really TAKES to become president and what type of PERSON our president should be. HIGHLY RECOMMENDED!

Available to Read Now

Book: Jack Canon’s American Destiny by Gregory Sandora

about his book: A story that must be told…

The longest recession in history has left ordinary Americans hurting, millions have lost their homes. People are hungry, some are freezing. The rich have gotten richer and wealth is concentrated in the hands of a few. Senator Jack Canon, a rising star in Washington, knows he can make a difference…but at what price?

You’ll forget this story is fiction…The Government is corrupt…the system has failed us…tender romance…love…passion…murder…revenge. Jack Canon is going to br President of the United States no matter what!

• Excerpt One – Jack, Sandy and the racecar.

“Jack, you’ve got senior staff in 20 minutes.” Sandy’s voice had an almost musical quality. She rarely spoke to me in anything but the most dulcet tones, a trait which matched her pleasing personality.

“Hey, Sandy,” I jumped up from my seat and moved quickly towards her.

“Come with me; I want to show you something.”

“What’s going on, Jack? You seem excited.”

I didn’t answer – instead I led her gently by the arm toward the seventh floor elevator. We passed several staff members busy working at their desks, each calling out like dominoes, one after the other, “Hey Jack.” I smiled and gave thumbs up as Sandy and I hurried past.

“Damn, the elevator’s busy; let’s take the stairs.”

“Do we have enough time, Jack?” Sounding concerned as we turned the corner.

Ignoring the question, I pushed open the door and started down the steps. Sandy had one hand gripping the cold metal railing and her other digging into my arm for support, luckily she had short nails. A couple of years ago, I mentioned I didn’t like the plastic ones she was wearing. The next day she came into the office, plopped both hands down on my desk, and said, “I cut my nails, Jack!”

It was hard for her to move fast in high heels with her skirt fitted snug just above the knee. She managed by holding tight to my arm, scuffing along, taking quick small steps.

“I’m parked on the third floor of the parking garage. Keep going; it’s only one more floor.”

“Jack, I’m out of breath,” Sandy said as I pushed open the door to P3.

We entered a large open area to see a shiny sports car parked alone.

“It’s my new car; you like it?”

“What is it?”

“It’s a car,” Teasing, knowing what she meant.

“I know it’s a car, what kind is it? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Don’t feel bad. I didn’t know either; I had to look it up. It’s French made, a Bugatti. The guy that delivered it said it’s one of a kind.”

Sitting before us was a machine that pushed the envelope to unreal. Lines so amazing it seemed to be in motion just standing still. The Bugatti Veyron is basically a street legal racecar. Exciting as all hell to drive. I never dreamed I’d own an automobile that could hit a top speed over 250 miles per hour. Truth is, before last night I didn’t even know I wanted one.

My version was custom painted black metallic with shiny chrome over dazzling wheel rims in a wave pattern over the single door. The porcelain moldings formed a body impossible to duplicate with steel alone. The styling was accentuated by a triple round grill that gave

the car personality and elevated the handcrafted masterpiece to a work of art. To say this car was rare was an understatement; I’d seen only one similar car and that was in a magazine. The Bugatti was hot, a real head turner, all eyes were on it as I drove to the office this morning.

Sandy said, “It’s beautiful, Jack When did you get it?”

“They just dropped it off last night.” I ran around the car and opened the passenger side door for her.

“Sandy, get in. Let’s go for a spin around the block; we’ve got time.” She tried to enter, first sideways then lowering herself gracefully as far as she could. Instead, she ended up plopping down, practically falling into the very low seat. She crossed her legs, trying to get situated and buckled in. The seats were so steeply angled, they looked like twin toboggans racing downhill. Watching Sandy try to get comfortable, I thought cars like these are not made for long drives or tight skirts.

Sandy warned, “I hope you’re gonna take it easy, Jack?”

• Excerpt Two – From the collection of creepy billionaire Gene Hobbs

I read the inscribed; Queen Katherine emerged just before nine in the morning. A rain the night before had turned the courtyard muddy to our ankles. The streets containing the foul smell of chicken scratch and horse urine slurried into the mix. Gawkers’ pushed for position and strained to see the delicate

fawn-like Katherine as she walked barefoot clothed only in a very plain and simple linen dress. The exposed skin of her upper chest was so pale I could see the ghostly blue vein patchwork just beneath. The last time I had seen the young queen she was amazing, the most beautiful women in all England. Fancily dressed and bright riding in an open coach smiling sweetly waving to her subjects, I fancied the thought our eyes might have met for a second.

‘Spill her blood,’ a spectator called out. I thought what cowards this mob content to stand by and watch. Greedily clinging to their own lives – any one of which could be wrenched from him in a second.

This bitter gray morning the little Queen made her way slowly up to the old worn wooden steps pausing briefly, turning sad Doe eyes back to the crowd. A pitiful thin waif of a child so helpless and demure, Katherine continued up the stairs carefully gripping the railing as if it were her mothers hand, that somehow she might be swept away from all this.

Once upon the platform, facing the crowd full on her tiny limbs were exposed and pale, a simple dress hanging over her nearly shapeless frame. She wore no jewelry her one remaining vanity long hair perfectly combed. The henchman placed her firmly against the block and with a blank and helpless stare Katherine moved her beautiful locks to one side exposing her slender neck.

I waited for her to jump to her feet and scream out in defiance, “What have I done that your precious King isn’t guilty of?”

This is the Story I always wanted to see at the movies…think the passion of the godfather meets the romance and innocence of camelot.

Got a New Review Last Night for Jack Canon’s American Destiny

Jack is the perfect man: kind. loving. considerate. and a little bit naughty. But. I kind of like that. Jack will be the perfect president. He’s got intense charm; charisma and brains. He’s dangerous; courageous; sexy and selfless. He does whatever it takes to make things right “No holds barred.”
Loving “exciting” fun & intense. I couldn’t put it down. What we need is Jack Canon for real! Loved it and can’t wait to see it in the big screen!

Released this morning – Jack Canon’s American Destiny

To all my friends who have waited for the release of my book – Jack Canon’s American Destiny – it is being released this morning on Amazon and at Barnes and Noble – Check out either site for a sample – Let me know what you think. Thank God

“L-O-V-E,” Sandy gigled.

Itoh Press set me up with a great edit team that has helped me to improve on the book. Launch date is now two weeks out. Without changing the story we work as a team to grind and polish. I am looking forward to my friends and family – everyone I love to read it. I’m up before daylight working on the sequel – Clean Sweep – – it’s not about a cleaning company. An excerpt:

“I can’t believe it either, the times flown,” speaking the words while her perfectly manicured teal toes brushed tenderly at my leg. Rolling her ankle, nearly slipping out of her remaining black and white checked heel, sat the perfect vision of Marilyn Monroe, but for the office. Balanced leaning back on her arms – a smarter version with classy black frames accentuated through dazzling platinum blonde hair. A look I enjoy and she works it.

“Jack?” Pouting through pink gloss lips.

“What honey?”

“How come you wouldn’t text me back last night? Gosh… I kept trying… you. You know I can’t sleep when I don’t hear from you.” Soft and alluring, Sandy’s voice was a combination siren’s song and something an angel might sound like. I pictured her with radiant white wings stretched out behind her.
“Honey I couldn’t break free – last night was complicated. I had a situation to deal with.”
“Was it National Security, Jack?”
“Not Quite.”
“Cause, if you’re busy you can always just text me a quick little something. A couple of letters would do. Maybe – l – o – v – e – I’ll figure it out.” Sandy giggled as she spelled, forcing her lower lip out, “At least I’ll know you’re not ignoring me.” Turning her head to focus out the window her tight curls bounced. “Jack…I felt so alone last night.”
I motioned to pull her gaze. She wasn’t noticing or was pretending not to. Picking her shoe up off the floor I gently placed it on her foot – like she was Cinderella. “I’m sorry honey…yesterday around eight o’clock just as I was finishing up…

Young Queen Katherine

Tip had warned me about Juarez nicknamed the Cuban.
“Good evening Senator, I too am very pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said in a very soft-spoken Cuban voice. The man obviously in his very late seventies maybe early eighties was almost sheepish and his handshake was soft. His health looked frail and I was surprised at his age with his obvious wealth he’d be hanging in this group. I thought he should be spending what time he had left trying to find joy and peace.
The only thing that gave me a worse vibe than these two was Gene’s taste in decorating. The ceilings were about 30 feet high and three walls held books up to about the first 15 feet, after which was a very large landing around three quarters of the room. The wall opposite the door was made up of five floor to ceiling arched windows. The bottom six feet of each had colonial muttons and were partially opened allowing the outside winter cold to fight with the heat in the room. On the landings above the bookshelves were housed various artifacts of torture.
Gene saw me noticing, “These are from the collection of King Henry he boasted.”
There were guillotines and stretching racks and other devices all made of aged wood and black iron. Some had big weathered chain links hanging from them and leather straps. There were black iron turning wheels, the sight was gruesome.
Gene motioned to a large axe with a semi circular blade and an unusually long thick handle.
“This is my prized piece of the entire collection – the axe used to behead Katherine, Henry’s youngest bride.” Mounted next to the axe on a polished cherry post was a scrap of parchment. Next to it carved in gold lettering over black onyx was inscribed an onlooker. The parchment had faded to an almost illegible degree and was kept behind glass.
Gene said, “The onlookers account is sealed in helium just like the Declaration of Independence to preserve it.” I’ve had it authenticated by historian’s expert in the period. The words were transferred onto the stone.
The eerie account told of the misty morning when the helpless fair-haired teenager, a mere girl forced to lay under the weight of the wealth of England, was led to her death.
I read the inscribed; Queen Katherine emerged just before nine in the morning. A rain the night before had turned the courtyard muddy to our ankles. The streets containing the foul smell of chicken scratch and horse urine slurried into the mix. Gawkers’ pushed for position and strained to see the delicate fawn-like Katherine as she walked barefoot clothed only in a very plain and simple linen dress. The exposed skin of her upper chest was so pale I could see the ghostly blue vein patchwork just beneath. The last time I had seen the young queen she was amazing, the most beautiful women in all England. Fancily dressed and bright riding in an open coach smiling sweetly waving to her subjects, I fancied the thought our eyes might have met for a second.
‘Spill her blood,’ a spectator called out. I thought what cowards this mob content to stand by and watch. Greedily clinging to their own lives – any one of which could be wrenched from him in a second.
This bitter gray morning the little Queen made her way slowly up to the old worn wooden steps pausing briefly, turning sad Doe eyes back to the crowd. A pitiful thin waif of a child so helpless and demure, Katherine continued up the stairs carefully gripping the railing as if it were her mothers hand, that somehow she might be swept away from all this.
Once upon the platform, facing the crowd full on her tiny limbs were exposed and pale, a simple dress hanging over her nearly shapeless frame. She wore no jewelry her one remaining vanity long hair perfectly combed. The henchman placed her firmly against the block and with a blank and helpless stare Katherine moved her beautiful locks to one side exposing her slender neck.
I waited for her to jump to her feet and scream out in defiance, “What have I done that your precious King isn’t guilty of?”
Laying her head sideways on the block, she awaited her fate in silence.
The black hooded killer appeared to us like a giant, standing over her a moment before even the handle of the axe and the blade had been taller than the living little queen. He drew back –
I heard the neck cracking then a thud as the girls head crashed to the platform floor. Steam rose from the blood pouring in a warm pool from the lifeless body slumped behind the block.