Gypsy Shadow Releases for January-May, 2021

New GSP Releases, January-May, 2021

June 2, 2021 By Charlotte Holley Leave a Comment

Many New Releases!

The Perfect Man by Violetta Antcliff

What is the perfect man? Is there such a person? Faith would have said no, would have argued that even a saint has flaws, defects. She has given up hope of ever finding a man that can live up to her expectations. That is until James and his namesake come into her life. One is perfection personified, too good to be true. The other has all the weaknesses of the common man. Does she want a robotic yes man who agrees with everything she says, or one who is anything but perfect? Can a simple kiss be the answer to this confusing conundrum? That is the question, but what is the answer?

Word Count: 10300
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Philip and the Boy Who Said, “Huh?” by John Paulits

Philip’s new friend Eugene has some strange ways about him, especially the way he sometimes ignores people. Philip decides to investigate, and when he finally figures out Eugene’s secret, it upends not only Eugene’s life, but also Philip’s own.

Word Count: 13400
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Across the Faebridge by Shiloh Darke

Leanna is a widow who just wants to start over. She moves out into the country, where she feels an instant connection to the land with the little cobblestone cottage. She hopes the change of scenery and time by herself will help her take some much needed time to herself and find a way to heal.

One evening, deciding to explore a little, she crosses the cobblestone bridge that crosses the creek running across the property. One minute, she is crossing the bridge in the late evening. Next minute, she is nose to nose with a real, live dragon. In the middle of the day.

As if the dragon isn’t shocking enough, the Elf on his back has seriously got to be the sexiest man she’s ever seen. Vlameir is an Elf King who has all but given up on finding his soulmate. When Leanna stumbles through the Portal and into his life, he is shocked to feel an instant connection to the petite human female.

But there is always more to every story. Unfortunately, soulmates finally finding each other is only the beginning…

Word Count: 78231
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Piñata Belly by Joe Novara

Harry, a retired African American high school history teacher turned D.C. tour guide, decides to explore guiding opportunities in Guatemala. On an outing to Mayan ruins, the life-long bachelor with a rapport with teens, connects with Bryn and through her, with her ex-pat grandmother, Cobi. Surprised by love, so late in life, in a cultural setting that views him as a “darker wave in a sea of brown,” he links up with Cobi as she unravels her tangled, exiled, Southern past.

Word Count: 22164
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Vito’s Tale by Joe Novara

Vito’s Tale is a piece of creative non-fiction (or historical fiction) about my grandfather who came to this country from Sicily ahead of his wife and children, sent my father to college, worked heavy construction labor all the while longing to return to the ‘home’ he left behind. Finally, as a widower, he did go back, married again and welcomed the grandson who came full cycle to live with him for a summer.

Word Count: 19200
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Ruby Crab by Nathan Gemmell

Bored, dreaming of a different life with adventure, success and family… Well, that’s just around the corner, but the path to our dreams is never straightforward.

Nat lives a mundane and solitary life. Day after day, nothing changes; he wakes up, goes to work, eats, then sleeps—and it all starts again the following morning. Always he dreams of a better life and to find someone to care for and to love.

Then, one day, he finds Ruby Crab. She is a beautiful childlike creature made of pure ruby. She has been abandoned! A refugee, Ruby Crab exists in a society in which she does not belong.

After spending a lot of time together, they develop a loving father-daughter bond. Will the world continue to reject her existence? Will society accept their connection? Will their love for each other prevail in this world—or in another?

Word Count: 10200
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Psychopaths and UFOs by Violetta Antcliff

G. Baxter & Flint, Private Investigators, are two of the best who seldom turn away clients who come to them for help. But when Georgina Baxter takes on a psychopath as a client, she gets more than she bargained for and ends up fighting for her life.

Joseph Flint, her partner in the firm, is persuaded to take on a client who he thinks is delusional, a man seeing aliens and flying saucers every time there’s a full moon.

Flint doesn’t believe in UFOs but he investigates regardless, and what he finds out is mind boggling, unbelievable.

Word Count: 10850
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Remembering Sunny by Dawn Colclasure

Jeanie and Mara are two cousins who grow up together and share a dream of opening their own animal shelter one day. But that dream is put on hold when, at 18, Mara announces she is pregnant and that she’s going to marry her boyfriend, Drake Preston. Jeanie knows Drake is bad news, but supports her cousin all the same. After Sunny is born, Mara can’t imagine her life without her. Then tragedy strikes and the family pulls together in mourning. It is in her grief that Mara learns how to turn tragedy into triumph and bring hope to her life again.

Word Count: 10750
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Cagalupo Redux by Joe Novara

Nick Finazzo, a roving freelance writer, spots Carol walking a Lake Michigan beach a long way and a lifetime from their early years in Detroit’s Eastside—their adolescent attraction, friends in common and now disparate life styles—her Lake Michigan mansion, his live-in van. Can they start over?

Word Count: 5700
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

Eltava: A Sword for All Ages by Nyki Blatchley

A swordswoman with a love of wandering, Eltava lives a nomadic life in a world of island kingdoms and mainland empires, sometimes on her own, sometimes with her immortal companion, known as the Traveller. These eleven stories chronicle her life and adventures from an adventure-obsessed 14-year-old to an 84-year-old who still has a move or two up her sleeve.

From acting as bodyguard for princesses to defending peaceful communities from aggression, Eltava battles bandits and tyrants, demons and unearthly creatures. But her greatest battle is with herself, as she becomes more aware that she’s growing old, while her companion doesn’t age. A search for eternal life ultimately teaches her that life itself is a victory, however long or short—and Eltava’s going to enjoy every minute of hers.

Word Count: 78585
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon

 

 

Newest GSP Release, September 30, 2020

September 30, 2020 by Gypsy Shadow Publishing | Edit

The Prodigal by Violetta Antcliff

About the book:

Poppy Berisford has everything going for her: a loving family, more pocket money than the average teenager and much more than her fair share of good looks. So why does she give it all up to go on the run with a boy who has nothing to offer her but toil, sweat and tears? A boy who hasn’t even started to shave and like Poppy is under the impression money grows on trees.

Is this a story of true love between two teenagers, or just a case of juveniles playing at being grown ups, willing to get their fingers burnt? Only time will tell.

Word Count: 10600
Buy at: Smashwords (all formats) ~ Barnes and Noble ~ Amazon
Price: $3.99

Excerpt:

Chapter 1

It was coming up to midnight when Poppy crept out of the house; both her parents were fast asleep in bed. She knew this because when she tiptoed past their bedroom door, she’d heard her father snoring.

Kyle had texted her earlier to say he would be waiting for her at the street corner. He reminded her to bring whatever money she could scrape together, at such short notice, with her.

Being extra cautious, not wanting to wake anybody, Poppy switched off the burglar alarm before opening the front door, then closed it quietly behind her and slipped the key through the letterbox.

As promised, Kyle was stood there waiting for her. He greeted her with, “Did you remember to bring the money with you?”

Poppy tapped her handbag “Yes, it’s all in here,” she said.

“How much?”

“Thirty pounds. Every penny I’ve got. How much have you brought?”

“Fifty—the money I’d saved for the school trip to France. Won’t be going now will it?” he said with a shrug of the shoulders.

“So what’s the plan, or haven’t you come up with one yet?”

“Of course I have. First we make our way to the railway station. It’s a bit of a walk I know, but we’ve got plenty of time.”

“And then what?” Poppy wanted all the details.

“We make our way to Skegness, find someplace to stay and then I’ll get a job. Shouldn’t be any problem this time of the year.”

“Finding someplace to stay could be expensive, and don’t forget we’ve got to eat.” Poppy was being practical, which was unusual for her.

“When I said we would find a place to stay, I was thinking of a caravan, not a big posh family one, just a two birth.”

“And what will I be doing while you are out at work all day?”

“You could get yourself a job as a waitress, you look older than sixteen so you should have no problems.”

“I won’t be sixteen for another three weeks and working as a waitress in some greasy spoon café—” Poppy threw her arms in the air. “Well, there goes my plan for training as a brain surgeon, doesn’t it?”

Kyle laughed. He was one year older than Poppy, although at times he seemed much younger. “And there goes mine as an airline pilot,” he said. “Come on, let’s get a move on or we’ll miss the train.”

The train was on time and they had no trouble finding a seat because at that time of night it was half empty.

Dawn was breaking when they pulled in at the station in Skegness. Poppy, who had slept for most of the journey, was now wide awake and alert, ready for whatever the day ahead held for them.

“Well, we’ve arrived, so what do we do now? Most of the shops will be closed this time of the day,” she reminded.

“There’ll be a shop open somewhere, where we can get a bite to eat,” returned Kyle optimistically.

He was right; more than a couple were already open and ready for business on the seafront. “Look we’re spoilt for choice,” he said choosing one advertising All Day Breakfasts.

The food was good and reasonably priced. The owner of the café, a rotund man, who looked to be in his late sixties, walked over to their table when they had finished eating and stood arms folded, looking down at them.

“You kids here on holiday?” he asked, “or just on a day trip?”

“Working holiday,” said Kyle jumping in before Poppy had time to say anything.

“Where are you staying?” Was his next question.

“Haven’t decided yet,” returned Kyle. “Was thinking of finding a caravan camping site, asking if they had any two-berth vans to let for the season.”

The older man stood, stroking his chin and thinking. “And you say you are looking for work?
Kyle nodded.

“Well, I think I might be able to help you. I have a two-berth caravan parked out back, and if this young lady,” he nodded toward Poppy, “isn’t afraid of a bit of hard work, I would let you have it rent free.”

Poppy was all ears. “What sort of hard work?” she asked.

“The wife’s been looking for some extra help for over the lunch time period, it gets very busy at the height of the season,” he said. “A few of hours a day, let’s say from eleven thirty to two thirty in exchange for living rent free in my old van. What do you say?” He held his hand out, and Poppy took it.

About the Author:

Violetta Antcliff

Violetta Antcliff has been a member of the Nottingham Writers’ Club for the best part of twenty years. A winner of numerous short story competitions, her work was area short listed in Waterstone’s Wow Factor story competition. Took first prize in Nottingham County Council short story competition with a story called “Irish Mouse Tales,” which was published by Gypsy Shadow Publishing as an eBook in July of 2012. “A Shot in the Dark” is Violetta’s 37th eBook with Gypsy Shadow since 2009 and follows “The Left Hander,” “A Silent Scream,” “The Rough Sleeper,” “The Odd Claims of Lizzy Croft,” “A Shot in the Dark,” and the latest installment in the Jason Foster Series, “Jason’s Teen Years.” She has had her poetry and short stories read on local radio.

Find her on FACEBOOK

Gypsy Shadow Turns Ten

Ten Year Celebration

Gypsy Shadow Publishing celebrated TEN YEARS in publishing September 1, 2019! To commemorate our tenth birthday this month...all month long, buy ANY eBook at regular price from the GSP website (http://www.gypsyshadow.com), email me (cholley@gypsyshadow.com) with proof of your purchase from Amazon, Barnes and Noble or Smashwords and tell me which other eBook you want to receive for FREE (must be equal or lesser value than the one you buy), and I will send it to you in the format of your choice. Happy birthday, GSP!

A Fragile Ghost by Violetta Antcliff

NEW RELEASE AUGUST 3, 2014!

A Fragile Ghost by Violetta Antcliff

#gypsyshadow #ghost #shortstory

http://www.amazon.com/Fragile-Ghost-Violetta-Antcliff-ebook/dp/B00ME2SYQO

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/a-fragile-ghost-violetta-antcliff/1120052750

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/464184

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Violetta.html#Fragile

Alone in a haunted house, Emma faces the wrath of an evil spirit whose dark secret she's uncovered. A Fragile Ghost by Violetta Antcliff. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/Violetta.html#Fragile

                               

Collingwood Manor drew Emma like a magnet; after her first visit she couldn't keep away. She wasn't afraid of ghosts, and until she'd spent a night on her own in the Manor house, she'd have argued they didn't exist. However, after coming face to face with a troubled spirit, and feeling the evil presence of another, she soon changes her mind. The Manor house has a dark secret, and Emma is determined to find out what it ss. Befriending one fragile little spirit and facing the hostile wrath of another was her intention. But now she has, she can't and won't, back down.

Word Count: 10154

Pages to Print: 23

Price: $3.99

EXCERPT:

A full moon shining through a barred window caused shadows to dance high on the walls of the room. Emma shivered, and tucked the scarf she’d been given into the collar of her jacket.

Harry had unwound the scarf from his own neck and placed it round hers, minutes before locking her in the filthy, vermin-infested room. She could still smell his manliness on the gift, and somehow it gave her comfort.

Apart from a broken down bedstead, the room was empty of furniture. On the floor next to the bed, a candle leaned precariously in an empty tin can.

Emma squinted at her wristwatch and sighed; there were still ten hours to go before someone would come to unbolt the door and let her out.

She heard footsteps on the landing outside and the door knob rattled; she knew it was Harry checking up on her.

“Now you’ve seen the room, do you still want to go through with it?” he asked.

Emma was sorely tempted to say, No I don’t; I’ve changed my mind. Let me out, but she didn’t. Instead she said simply, “Go away, I told you I’d do it, so just leave me alone. Let me get on with it.” She sounded braver than she felt.

She heard Harry’s retreating footsteps, sensed his slight hesitation before he descended the creaking, rickety stairs, going back the way he’d come.

Sat hunched on the bed in the deafening silence, Emma recalled the events that had led up to the bizarre situation she now found herself in.

She brought to mind the retirement party thrown for the undermanager of the city store where she worked. Drinks had flowed and during the course of the evening, tongues had loosened and things had been said that, perhaps, would have been better left unsaid.

She knew she would have to do some apologising when she returned to work after the weekend. Telling her boss to keep his hands to himself or she’d have him up for sexual harassment hadn’t gone down well.

Tom, her boyfriend, had berated her in front of everybody, told her she’d be lucky if she had a job to go back to on Monday, if she didn’t apologise immediately.

This had made her angry. Boss or no boss, she’d spat, I’m not going to let him get away with patting my bottom and trying to peer down the front of my dress.

Tom had said she was an idiot, and she had told him to get lost.

Eve, a girl who worked in the millinery department of the store, warned her she’d lose Tom if she wasn’t careful.

She had responded with a couldn’t care less shrug of the shoulder and walked away to join in a heated discussion about the supernatural taking place in another part of the room. Tom had tried to drag her away, and for the second time she’d told him to get lost.

That was how it had all started, she’d pooh-poohed the idea there were such things as ghosts and zombies, and when she’d been challenged to spend a night on her own in a haunted house, she’d accepted.

It was the reason she now sat shivering in a derelict building on the outskirts of town, in the room that was supposed to be the most haunted in the house.

Collingwood Manor had been left to the country by its previous owner, Lord Baverstock. Over the years, due to neglect, it had fallen into disrepair and there was now talk of it being demolished.

The manor house had a reputation of being one of the most haunted buildings in the midlands. Allegations a wailing ghost haunted the place went undisputed. And it was common knowledge that both squatters and Romanies gave the place a wide berth.

The Diamond Man by Michael J. Molloy

NEW IN PRINT July 1, 2014!

The Diamond Man by Michael J. Molloy

#gypsyshadow #baseball #romance

http://www.amazon.com/The-Diamond-Man-Michael-Molloy/dp/1619502283 (Print)

http://www.amazon.com/The-Diamond-Man-ebook/dp/B00DDA2T4E

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-diamond-man-michael-j-molloy/1115633112

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/325672

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/MichaelJMolloy.html#DiamondM

Baseball announcer gets big league job, steals a woman’s heart, and wins back his problematic daughter. The Diamond Man by Michael J. Molloy. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/MichaelJMolloy.html#DiamondM

An act of bravery can elevate one to superhero status. But it will not erase a troubled past.

Career minor league baseball announcer Jim Monahan saves an elderly man from potentially drowning. His local media story goes viral on the internet and is snatched up by national television. It catches the eyes and ears of his New York-based agent, who convinces Jim that the courageous act could put him front and center for a major league announcing opening. Yet despite his heroics, Jim still can’t wash away a painful divorce caused by his unfaithful ex-wife, and repair his strained relationship with his wayward daughter, Madison. Jim grows despondent. But then an attractive and kind-hearted woman named Anne Finley walks into his life. She restores Jim's faith in love and aids him in reconnecting with Madison.

Word Count: 84750
Pages to Print: 289 
Price: $5.99 

EXCERPT:

Chapter One

Hours after the late August game and its broadcast, Diamond Jim Monahan maneuvered his Honda Civic through Richmond’s waterlogged streets. The spirits of the play-by-play announcer of the Richmond Flying Squirrels had been flattened like a pancake. After all, the team had kowtowed to the hated rival Bowie Baysox, 6-5—thanks to the play where the visitors’ Lamont McGill uncoiled like a cobra in the top of the ninth inning and jacked the pill until it was a blip off the radar past the left field fence. The loss eliminated the Squirrels from postseason consideration, thus rendering the team’s upcoming season-ending series that weekend in Reading moot. The severe thunderstorm the forecasters had predicted was a fitting end to the evening’s proceedings. Mother Nature was venting her anger as she wept profusely for the saddened city.

The rain, which began shortly before the conclusion of Jim’s post-game radio show, came down in sheets. The upcoming trip to Reading was the farthest thing from Jim’s mind. Making it home through the torrential downpour became a struggle for survival. As fast as the windshield wipers swept away a collection of water, another waterfall soon followed. Jim might as well have been driving blindfolded. He wanted nothing less than to curl up in his bed at his apartment.

Inching along Jennie Scher Road, Jim suddenly noticed the rear lights of another vehicle off the side of the road below street-level. His initial reaction was to press past and head for home. But something peculiar about these rear lights peaked his curiosity. Had a fellow motorist’s vehicle swerved off the slick road into Gillies Creek? Compelled by his own burning desire to know, Jim opted to forego the need to sleep.

“Oh, my God. I wonder if anyone is hurt down there.”

Parking his Civic in a safe spot, Jim cautiously made his way down the incline. The rain continued to pelt him unmercifully, a thousand needles stinging his face. He wasn’t the least bit concerned about getting drenched. Someone was in dire need of assistance, and that was all that mattered.

He stopped in his tracks when he saw the vehicle, a late model Ford Explorer sport utility vehicle, its front wheels almost totally submerged in the rising waters of the creek. The rest of the vehicle would soon fall in. If someone were still alive in the Explorer, he’d have to act fast.

The driving rain made it difficult for him to see. Through squinted eyes, Jim noticed a figure in the driver’s seat. He tapped the window with his knuckles to get the attention of the individual, but there was no response. He tried to open the driver’s side door, but soon discovered it was locked. There was only one thing left to do: he had to break the window.

Time was critical; he frantically looked around for a sizable rock. He spotted one the size of a football and hoisted it. But before he struck the window, Jim yelled, “Hey in there! I’m going to smash the window! See if you can move away or at least turn your head away!”

The shadowy figure nodded and moved his head to the side.

With adrenalin pumping throughout his body, Jim heaved the heavy stone. The impact cracked the glass in the pattern of a spider’s web. Jim hit again and again, before the window shattered and he could reach inside to unlock the door. The third attempt was the charm.

He extended his left arm through the narrow middle opening of the broken pane. As he did, he nicked his forearm on one of the jagged edges. Ouch! He winced in pain, but pressed on in search of the button. Five seconds later he fingered what he believed was the door lock. When he pressed it, a sudden click sounded. Relief enveloped him, but the task was far from over.

After delicately pulling out his arm to avoid another cut, Jim opened the door from the outside. Just then he heard an eerie noise from the SUV, signaling it was another step closer to being totally submerged. The clock was ticking.

Jim focused on the object of the task: an elderly man, incoherent save for a few moans. The man slowly moved his head side to side. His wailing grew louder, almost ear-splitting.

“Hey, mister!” Jim yelled. “C’mon! You’ve got to get of here! This truck’s about to fall into the creek!”

“I can’t move,” the man groaned. “I think I broke my leg.”

“You can’t stay here! I’ve got to get you out!”

“No! No! Leave me alone! I’ll be all right.”

“Like hell you will!”

Jim quickly released the man’s seatbelt. The baseball announcer was about to position his arms around the back and behind the knees of the man when he heard another creak. The vehicle was yet another inch closer to slipping into the waterway.

Water rapidly filled the floor of the vehicle. There was no room for error. Jim instructed the old man to grab him around the neck. Jim fought to lift the man out. After he succeeded in doing so, he struggled up the embankment with the man in his arms. He managed to go only six steps before he heard a very loud sound behind him. He turned his head and saw the Ford Explorer sinking completely into the creek. Seconds later, only the top of the vehicle stood above the water. Diamond Jim Monahan had saved the old man’s life—but there was no time for celebration. Jim continued to transport the old man until both of them managed to reach street-level.

The announcer safely guided the injured man into the backseat of his Civic. Seconds were precious. Despite the teeming rain, he used his cell phone to contact 911 and request an ambulance. When he was finished on the phone, he noticed the old man reaching for him with his right hand. Jim clasped it as a handshake, as if he were greeting an old friend. Still writhing in pain, the old man looked at Jim through tired but grateful eyes.

“Thank you,” the man quietly told Jim.

Jim smiled softly in reply. He shut the door so that the man would be out of the torrential downpour, got into the driver’s seat and closed the door behind him to shelter himself from the rain. His clothes were soaked, but Jim wanted only to relax all of his taut muscles and be swallowed up by the bucket seat. The wait was now on for the emergency vehicle’s arrival.

Do Over by G. E. Stills

NEW RELEASE JULY 1, 2014!

Do Over by G. E. Stills

#gypsyshadow #romance #timetravel

http://www.amazon.com/Do-Over-G-E-Stills-ebook/dp/B00LG6FMWS

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/do-over-g-e-stills/1119886250

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/453878

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/GEStills.html#DoOver

If you went to sleep one night and woke up the next day in your past, what would you do? Do Over by G. E. Stills. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/GEStills.html#DoOver

Have you ever wished you could go back in your life and change things? Would the changes made turn out for the better? If you remembered your future, you could correct your mistakes, but would you make others? Gene took a wrong turn in life. He lives on the wrong side of the law, but he gets a chance that we never get. He gets a Do Over in his life.

Word Count: 22640

Pages to Print: 80

Price: $3.99

EXCERPT:

****

. . . Gene got out of bed, stretched, then took a shower and performed his other bathroom duties. He dressed in fresh clothes, put on his holster and then grabbed the backpack and his overnight case. After a final look around, he stepped into the hall, and a momentary vertigo hit him. He stumbled and braced himself against the wall to keep from falling. The dizziness went away and his vision cleared.

Stress, it has to be stress.

He glanced around in confusion and sensed something was different. The hall seemed newer—fresher somehow. Funny I didn’t notice it yesterday. I must have been too lost in thought.

He rode the elevator down to the lobby and took a seat in the restaurant. I really must have been lost in thought. Everything about the hotel seems different. They must have remodeled since I was here last. They did a good job. Reminds me of how this place used to look.

He charged his breakfast to the room before leaving the restaurant, not paying attention to the price, and left a generous tip for the waitress. He leaned into the registration desk. “I’m in room 536. I need to check out,” he told the clerk.

The clerk searched through his files. “I’m sorry sir. Your name?”

“Gene Cardone.”

“Hmm. I’m sorry Mr. Cardone there seems to be some type of mix up. I have no record of you.”

“I checked in yesterday.”

“I don’t doubt your word. I’m just saying I show no record.”

The clerk typed in the information he provided and gave him the price, which included the breakfast he informed the man about. “That’s all?” Gene asked.

“Yes sir.”

He peeled off some cash to settle his bill, still wondering at the low price. Flipping open his cell to call a cab he noticed to his surprise there was no signal. Moving around in the lobby didn’t help. There was no signal anywhere Maybe they’re just having a coverage issue here in the Hotel. Finally, he went to the registration desk and had the clerk there summon a cab.

Gene stepped out in front of the hotel to wait. Again he flipped open his phone to call Felix. He frowned in confusion when the no signal message came up on the phone.

The cab that pulled up was a vintage car that he remembered from his youth. Talk about retro. He got in the back. Where to?” the driver asked.

“Coronado Airport.”

“Where? I’m not familiar with that airport.”

Surely you jest. You’re a cab driver and you don’t even know where Coronado is?

“It’s located on I-25 north toward Santa Fe.”

“Uh Sir, there’s no airport out there that I’m aware of.”

Gene glanced at his watch. Time was ticking away. I’ll call another cab. This guy is obviously new to town and doesn’t know shit.

“I just remembered something I forgot to do. Here, this should cover you for your trip.” He handed the cab driver some money and left the car. After watching the cab pull away, he shrugged on the pack, picked up his bag and stepped out of the hotel drive to the sidewalk. He glanced around. Nothing looked right in the surroundings. It was familiar and yet completely different from what he’d noticed the day before.

What the fuck is going on?

While heading back into the hotel lobby he glanced down at a newspaper vending machine. He halted and stared in shock at the date on the paper. July, 15th, He couldn’t believe his eyes when the year jumped out at him. 1973! What the hell?

Inside the lobby once more, Gene saw that as the morning had progressed guests had filtered into it. In amazement, he noticed that every one of them wore fashions terribly outdated. Passing a floor to ceiling decorative mirror, he glanced at himself and halted dead in his tracks. The man staring back at him was not him. Well it is me, he admitted. “The way I looked fifteen years ago. What the fuck is going on here? I must be still asleep. I must be dreaming,” he mumbled beneath his breath.

Can’t go back to the room. I’ve already checked out even if this is a dream. I’ll go for a walk, get my thoughts together. He laughed out loud. I’ll probably wake up naked as the day in some public place or some similar embarrassing situation.

He left the front doors and strolled down the street deep in thought and yet aware of things around him. Wouldn’t do to be taken by surprise. Not with three million dollars in this backpack. He felt the gun nestled under his arm. “Not that I need to worry much about being mugged.”

He was astounded at the cars passing by on the street beside him. None of them was newer than early seventy vintage, and many were older. Slowly he concluded that something, he didn’t know what, had happened overnight. Gene halted abruptly and stared in disbelief at the rental car lot next to him. The lot was filled with 1973 dodge cars. Among them, he spotted a row of Challengers. An idea surged to life, and he marched into the rental office.

Gene never used his charge card while on business. While his wallet was open, he quickly counted the bills. Several hundred dollars should be enough for the time being. “Here’s my card, but don’t run it I’ll be paying the rental fee in cash.”

“Very good sir.” The agent slid forms across the counter for him to fill out and turned away to make a copy of the card.

Gene drove off the lot and spent the rest of the day driving around town. The first place he drove to was Coronado Airport, at least the location where it should have been. There was no airport there.

By evening, he was more confused than ever. He couldn’t argue the facts. They were everywhere around him. Somehow, he’d been transported back from the year 2000 to 1973. With the exceptions of a few minor changes, Albuquerque was the same as when he’d gone to school here in the sixties. Early in the evening, he treated himself to a burger and fries, then pulled into one of the motels on Central Avenue and rented a room. The bar next door looked very inviting. He slipped the backpack in the trunk then going around the corner entered the bar. All night long, he remained deep in thought, trying to figure out what had happened.

Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Stephen M. DeBock

NEW RELEASE JULY1, 2014!

Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Stephen M. DeBock

#gypsyshadow #crimefiction #romance

http://www.amazon.com/Cant-Take-Eyes-Off-You-ebook/dp/B00LG6FLEC

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/cant-take-my-eyes-off-you-stephen-m-debock/1119886246

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/453876

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/StephenDeBock.html#CantTake

In a society where convicted killers are used as living organ donors, one man’s vendetta against a rival takes a bizarre and twisted turn. Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Stephen M. DeBock. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/StephenDeBock.html#CantTake

Society has made the death penalty obsolete; instead, convicted killers are condemned to serve humanity as living organ donors. Paparazzo Patsy Galiardo publicly contends that former friend turned backstabber Peter Serafin belongs in that select prison population. True, the coroner has ruled the suspicious death of Peter’s affluent first wife a suicide. But when Peter later remarries, his bride this time a wealthy supermodel, Patsy vows to pursue his vendetta with even greater zeal. Further, because the paparazzo has designs of his own on the newest Mrs. Serafin, Patsy has even more motivation to get Peter out of the picture—which gives Peter more motivation to get Patsy out of the picture. Permanently.

Word Count: 27250

Pages to Print: 104

Price: $4.99

 

EXCERPT:

 

One

Two surgeons leaned over their respective sinks and lathered their hands and forearms with hot water and disinfectant soap. One of them whistled the tune to “Heigh Ho,” from Disney’s Snow White. The other smiled and shook his head.

“Shouldn’t that be ‘Whistle While You Work,’ Robby?” the other asked.

“Right,” he said, his English accent making it sound more like roit. “That’s a good one, too. Did I tell you, my great grandparents lived in London during the Blitz? No, I don’t believe I did. Well, they had their own version of that song.”

“I tremble with anticipation.”

“As I knew you would.” He sang, his voice reedy: “Whistle while you work. Hitler is a jerk. Mussolini bit his weenie. Now it doesn’t work.”

“One of these days, Robby, you’re going to have to learn to carry a tune.”

“And one of these days, Monty old thing, you’re going to have to learn to appreciate my prodigious and versatile talents. Talents, I might add, that extend far beyond yonder OR.”

“That’s not what the nurses tell me.”

“I’d offer a raspberry, old sod, but it would be beneath me.” They scrubbed in silence for a few moments. “You know, I’ve cut into many a body, and it’s never bothered me a bit, but I still get queasy when it comes to your specialty. Popping out one’s eyes. Ugh. I admire your pluck, though, Monty. No pun intended.”

“Hah . . . hah.” Monty, Dr. Hugo Montenegro, decided to change the subject. “So. Who’s the beneficiary of your prodigious and versatile talents today?”

“Ah. Handsome young fellow, just out of eighth grade. His only ambition is to play high school sports. Right now, lad’s on a ventilator.”

“Cystic fibe, yes?”

Dr. Colin Robertshaw nodded. “And about to get a brand new pair of healthy lungs. Who’s on the receiving end of your beneficence?”

“Busy day for me. I’ve got two corneal transplants and two vitreous implants.”

“Monocular, I assume?”

“Uh huh. Four patients, prepped and waiting as we speak.” He elbowed the faucet handles off. “I wish I could give my patients binocular vision, but the waiting list is so damned long . . .”

“Right. But having sight in one eye is better than having sight in none, isn’t it? Too bad, though, the first face your patients will see is your ugly mug. They might wish they’d remained blind.”

The men held their hands up and a nurse slipped on their gowns.

“What about our donor’s lungs? He a smoker, I’d hope not?”

“No, which is the only thing that’s to his credit.”

“What’s he believe he’s here for?”

“The usual, kidney transplant.”

The door behind them opened. “Stand aside, gentlemen, cardiac coming through.”

“Ah, Kamala, so glad you could make it,” said Robertshaw. “I was afraid you’d forgotten.”

“Please,” said the attractive, fortyish surgeon. “As if I could ever forget an opportunity to work alongside the renowned Dr. Robertshaw.” She gave him a playful nudge as she commandeered his place at the sink. “By the way, Colin, any new episodes of your own to report?”

Kamala Setty had done a radio frequency ablation on Robertshaw a year before to correct his occasional spells of atrial fibrillation.

“Nary a one, Kamala, my love. As I’ve told you before, you have touched my heart in a way no other woman has ever been able to do.”

She winked at him as she scrubbed in. “And if I had a nickel for every time I’ve heard that line . . .”

“You’d have a nickel. Admit it, love. I’m unique.” He looked at her hands as she scrubbed. “Ah, Kamala, Kamala, Kamala, such thin, delicate fingers. I so wish it were you doing my rectals instead of old Walt Kowalski. His fingers are as thick as kielbasa.”

“Thanks anyway, Colin, but I see enough assholes around here as it is. So who’s our donor today?”

“A bloody serial killer,” Dr. Robertshaw said. “Bloke named Reimers, remember reading about him a couple years ago? Tortured all those women?”

“Oh yes,” she said. “A mommy thing, right? His dark-haired mother used to burn him with her cigarettes, among other delightful abuses. Then as an adult he’d troll the bars for brunette smokers and burn them . . . before he dismembered them.”

“Would it be in poor taste to say I wished he were conscious and alert during today’s procedure?” asked Robertshaw.

Montenegro answered: “Yes it would, Dr. Mengele.” He turned to the heart surgeon. “Who’s your lucky patient today, Dr. Setty?”

“A lovely woman, Monty, a spry fifty-five, whose daughter has just presented her with a grandson. With her healthy new heart, she’ll live long enough to see him walk down the aisle at his wedding, maybe even long enough to become a great-grandmother.”

“Which reminds me, Monty,” said Robertshaw, “how’re things going with the father of the bride? Big doings this weekend.”

Hugo Montenegro tied on his mask. “Caroline’s doing most of the work. I’m only paying the bills.”

“Man’s lot in life. Sorry, Kamala, but it’s true. And Monty, whatever possessed you not to stage the wedding here in Philadelphia? No, no, too convenient; instead, you drag your guests a hundred miles into the hinterland.”

“It’ll be worth the drive, Robby. We’ve reserved a spot in the Hershey Gardens. This time of year, the roses’ll be in full bloom. Marcy loves the smell of roses.”

“Well, good show, then. And Kamala, you’re still welcome to join me as my date. Just leave your husband at home.”

She flashed a grin before lifting her mask. “Colin, you incorrigible flirt, if I did show up alone and wrap my thin, delicate fingers around your arm, I think you’d faint.”

Dr. Robertshaw winked at her. “Try me.” He headed for the OR doors, and as they swung open he sang, “Heigh ho, heigh ho. It’s off to work we go.”

The Will and the Way by Hendrik van Oordt

NEW RELEASE MARCH 7, 2014!

The Will and the Way by Hendrik van Oordt

#gypsyshadow #romance #contemporary

http://www.amazon.com/The-Will-Way-Hendrik-Oordt-ebook/dp/B00IUTGZXO

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-will-and-the-way-hendrik-van-oordt/1118882178

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/416623

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/HendrikvanOordt.html#WillWay

Torn between wild-cat oil operator Will Evans and current lover yaughtsman John Dunesne, cellist Kim Chalmers puts her future happiness on the line. The Will and the Way by Hendrik van Oordt. Available at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/HendrikvanOordt.html#WillWay

Cellist Kim Chalmers is in Paris preparing for a world tour when her fiancé, yaughtsman John Dunesne, is caught in a storm and reported missing. Haunted by John's loss and a failed childhood love for which she still feels responsible, Kim gets deeply depressed and ready to give up a promising career.

Agent and friend Anne Moorecroft discovers the whereabouts of Kim's childhood love, Will Evans, now a wild-cat oil operator in the Sahara, and tries to rekindle the fire between Kim and Will. Just then John Dunesne is found alive on the Irish coast. Kim's heart is in a turmoil. She is faced with a terrible choice. Will she make the right decision?

Word Count: 59400
Pages to Print: 211
Price: $4.99

EXCERPT:

“You didn’t bring any bedding?” Will Evans sounded almost sympathetic in his perplexity. “What did you expect to find here? A hotel?”

A smile briefly lit up his face, and Anne could once again feel the powerful attraction exuded by this man. But he didn’t explain the reason for his smile and it was gone in an instant, leaving the same handsome mask as before. He had probably been laughing at her.

“I’ll give you my tent for the night.”

Anne didn’t argue. She was a modern woman who valued her gender equality, but she was far too scared of what was happening to protest that she could sleep under the stars as well as any man. She had never camped out in her life and she had already come to the conclusion that she would never ever do so again. Something was rustling somewhere, and something else was calling to the moon. Away to the right she could make out the silhouettes of the men talking quietly among themselves. Meekly she followed Will Evans to her quarters, a triangular tent so low you had to crouch to get in.

“No extra blankets, I’m afraid. You better keep your clothes on. The tent is insulated, but it’s a lot colder out here than at Fort Khaldun.”

He took out his bedroll, which he dumped right in front of the shelter.

“This is where I’ll be sleeping. If you need to go to the bathroom, it’s back there.” He pointed beyond a hillock and looked at her with an amused air. “Just don’t expect a bathroom.”

Prologue

“It’s a good thing your parents don’t know I’m here.” The girl laughed breathlessly.

The boy and the girl were running through the orchard by Hardwood River. Ahead rose the old boathouse, derelict and abandoned since the construction of the new shed near the manor.

It was raining heavily. Both adolescents were drenched. The boy’s heart ached at the sight of the running girl in her bedraggled summer dress, clinging wet to her skin as though it never wanted to let go. It was the way he wanted to hold onto her.

When they reached the door, she turned and smiled through the wet strands of hair plastered against her cheeks and forehead. She took the boy’s face in her hands and kissed him.

“You look so serious,” she whispered. “I want you to tell me your problems. But first I want you to make love to me. That’s all I want from life. Happiness. You.”

“No!” The boy tore himself away, staring wide-eyed at her. “No,” he said again. He was crying soundlessly. “Laetitia knows and is threatening to tell Mom.”

The girl sagged to the ground against the building. “Aunt Mary will kill you,” she said, “if she finds out.”

He shrugged, unable to express himself. How could he explain that he wouldn’t mind whatever punishment his mother had in store for him as long as he could have her?

“I’m leaving home,” he said softly.

The girl looked up sharply. After a moment she laid a hand on his knee. “And me?”

He shook his head in silence. She scrambled to her feet.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“You can’t stop me.”

No, but society can, he thought sadly. “You’re seventeen, without a passport, and you’re my cousin. If we ran off together, Laetitia would be sure to tell Mom what was going on between us and the police would haul us back in no time. Your life would no longer be worth living. And if I stayed, we’d try to continue what we’re doing. We wouldn’t be able to stop ourselves.”

He stood looking at her for a long time, unable to tear his eyes away from her face.

“I love you, Kim,” he said at last. “I’ve loved you forever, it seems.”

She took his face again in her hands and whispered, “Make love to me.”

He closed his eyes against her searching look. She was scanning his face as if she wanted to reach inside his mind for an argument that would convince him to stay. She bit his ear and put one of his hands on her breast. “Make love to me,” she said again.

He took her hand in his and kissed it long and desperately.

“I’ve signed up on an oil rig for the season. I’m flying out tonight. I’ll be stationed in Greenland. I’ll write.”
The girl began to cry, burying her face in his chest.

One

The neighborhood had that old-world charm you find in so many European cities, with deep courtyards, alleys at odd angles, old and rather dusty shops, bars and restaurants everywhere, and far too much traffic for the narrow streets.

It was a beautiful day in Paris, and Kim Chalmers stood lazily watching a couple of teenagers from her second-floor apartment window, enjoying the heat of the late summer sun on her face and upper body. The two kids in the street below were flirting heavily, laughing and showing each other pictures on their cell phones, with just enough body distance to suggest that they might not yet be together. It wouldn’t be long before they found each other, she thought. They would make a cute item. If John were here, he would have concluded cynically that they were negotiating a temporary truce between the sexes. But that was John, and she loved him for what he was, macho warts and all. For all his outward display of cynicism, she knew him for a softy who could not get enough of her and who would stand by her come hell or high water. Literally. John had seen enough rough weather and human misery while sailing around the world on his yacht to be ready to fight for the true things in life, and for reasons she could only marvel at, he thought she was the truest thing in his life.

She thought they would soon be married, if his parents had anything to do with it. His people were the type to keep pushing and arranging until everything was boxed tidily and prettily where it belonged, with the lid on and a neat label, ready for sailing on the great ship of life. Kim and John definitely belonged in the box labeled marriage. John’s mother kept saying so, and Kim had to admit they made a handsome couple. If she had qualms about the freckles on the bridge of her nose and a constant fear of growing fat, she had no doubts at all about John’s physique. He was easily one of the best-looking men she had ever seen, with the sort of carefree walk that made him stand out from the crowd wherever he went; dark, with untamed eyes that made any woman’s heart race faster, and a smile that opened all doors for him.

The sun had dipped behind the buildings across the street, and the kids below her window had moved on, absorbed by the shadows and their own private world. She turned toward the room, wondering what life was all about anyway. All day long she had been feeling strangely nostalgic and rebellious. She loathed anything smacking of self-pity and nostalgia, and yet she was feeling homesick for a past that was utterly irrelevant to her life and future. Perhaps it was the two kids with their cell phones or the burnished copper of the setting sun, reminding her of an Indian summer just like this when she had passionately loved and lost. More likely, the growing pressure on the part of John’s mother highlighted her own doubt that marriage was what she wanted right now with her career taking off. But wherever she looked, things seemed to be throwing up memories of years gone by.

She sighed and looked at her reflection in the mirror and at the comfortable room behind, with its pleasant clutter and spacious dimensions. Even if she did not share John’s unbridled admiration for her looks, the mirror told her she was good-looking by any standard, while her apartment spoke of a life without financial worries. In the words of the magazines, she had it all—talent, beauty and, if not wealth, enough money to lead an independent life. She had no reason to feel sorry for herself. She was twenty-seven and engaged to a dashing adventurer, a once-in-a-lifetime man who was also a gentleman in this graceless day and age, with a circle of friends that was equally glamorous and wild. A man who paid the daily compliment of telling her she was the most beautiful woman in the world and who backed it up with endless gifts. She had no right to indulge in that sort of nonsense.

Resolutely, she turned on the light, took her cello from its stand and placed it between her knees. With just three months to go before a series of concerts that would take her to major concert halls around the world, on the verge of an international breakthrough, this was not the moment to pretend a mid-life crisis. Besides, it was extremely unfair to John. The past was over and done with. She had cried enough to fill a bathtub after Will’s departure and it hadn’t brought him back. For years she had thought she would never forget him and now, when she had finally forgotten, a red sunset and a few rose-colored memories were going to bring him back and spoil the party? Teenage love. Never again, thank you very much. Look at the puppy love of those kids passing below her window. Think of the tears they would shed, only to go off and make an entirely different life with someone else, all promises forgotten.

Angrily she tightened the bow of her instrument, snapping several horsehairs.

“Stupid girl,” she muttered, anxiously eying the wood for cracks. Her bow was a beautiful example from a 19th-century maker, a gift from her teacher when she graduated with honors from the conservatory, and she’d never forgive herself if she damaged it. “No man is worth your ruination, you hear?” she crooned as she loosened the screw. “Not John, not Will, not any man.”

She played old folk tunes of the kind that wailed about broken promises and impossible loves, until the professional in her took over and she settled down to playing scales. She had been at it for over an hour, almost satisfied with the blur of her fingers as they slid, stopped and vibrated across the fingerboard, when the doorbell rang. She wondered who it could be. She did not encourage unannounced callers when practicing.

The Wrath of Leah by G. E. Stills

NEW RELEASE APRIL 1, 2014

The Wrath of Leah by G. E. Stills

#gypsyshadow #fantasy #romance

http://www.amazon.com/The-Wrath-Leah-G-Stills-ebook/dp/B00JEMSPKW

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-wrath-of-leah-g-e-stills/1119058165

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/425041

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/GEStills.html#Leah

Her old way of life ended tragically; Leah hopes her new one won't end the same. The Wrath of Leah, a novella by G. E. Stills. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/GEStills.html#Leah

Leah's home has been burned to the ground and a man she once loved has killed her mother. She is taken to a new world, held captive and tortured by a ruthless sorcerer. Jan helps her escape and takes her to his village. The people there look to her for salvation. How can she, a simple woman from Earth with no special abilities, possibly live up to their expectations?

Word Count: 23500

Pages to Print: 80

Price: $3.99

 

EXCERPT:

Chapter 1

Crossing the clearing between her house and the barn where she kept her horses, Leah glanced around. Tall pines surrounded the clearing containing the buildings. Only a slight breeze whispering through the pine needles disturbed the early morning silence. She loved the silence and the solitude her remote location in the mountains provided. The last of the snow had melted away and the first tiny sprigs that would grow to be a riot of beautiful wildflowers had pushed up from the ground to the right of her wooden cabin.

It’s so much different here than in the town fifteen miles away, where I spent my first twenty years.

Leah stepped into her cabin and poured a cup of coffee. As she sat at the table with her hands wrapped around the steaming cup, she thought back to her high school days and specifically, Mike. For two years, they’d dated and made plans for the future, like going to college together. Maybe even living together. Reaching up, she twirled a lock of her chestnut-colored hair, wondering what it would look like next week when she had it cut to off to shoulder length.

Her memories turned once more to Mike. He was an only child and lived with his parents half a mile from her house. She remembered the day as if it had happened yesterday. Mike was supposed to call that Saturday morning and together they would make plans for the senior dance. He didn’t call. By midafternoon, she tired of waiting and called him. The phone rang and rang.

I was worried. He never broke a promise before. The next day, she borrowed her mom’s car and drove to his house. It was vacant. Glancing through the curtainless window, she saw that the room was bare. The front door was unlocked. She strolled through the empty house in disbelief.

She searched, using every means she could think to locate them. Nothing—not a single clue, as if they had dropped off the face of the Earth. She was crushed. The boy who owned her heart had simply vanished.

A few months later, her dad died, killed in a car accident. The two most important men in her life had been ripped away from her in less than six months. She graduated from high school, but delayed entering college. Instead, she moved here to the cabin her parents owned. Pleasant memories from her childhood surrounded her. She begged her mom to come with her, but she refused, remaining behind to work at her job. Her mother, in turn, expressed deep concern that her daughter would be living in the mountains alone.

“I need time to think, to grieve,” Leah explained. “I’ll go to college soon.”

It was still hard for her to fathom—three years had passed. She would be twenty-one next month. She took a sip of coffee. I kept my promise, Mom. I’m enrolled in college. I start this fall.

The crunch of gravel jerked her from her melancholy thoughts and alerted her of visitors. Leah strolled toward the door and answered at the knock. Her mother, Janice, stood framed in the doorway.

“I would’ve called, but I just had to see the expression on your face.”

Leah moved back to let her mother in. “What’s going on, Mom?”

Janice stepped to the side and Leah saw for the first time her mother hadn’t come alone. Her jaw dropped and her knees wobbled when she saw him. His piercing blue eyes, wavy black hair and great physique left no doubt. “Mike?”

“One and the same,” he said.

She wanted to rush into his arms, and at the same time wanted to beat on his chest for never having contacted her over the years.

“I answered the door this morning,” her mother explained, “and there he was.”

Leah stumbled back and sat in her easy chair heavily. “Where have you been?”

“Away.”

“Away! That’s all you can say?”

“Don’t I get a hug and a kiss?”

She wanted to. She wanted to fly into his arms, but at the same time displeasure with his response held her back. “Not until you can give me a better answer for where you’ve been the last three years.”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Her displeasure was escalating into anger. He was avoiding her question. “Try me.” Again, she heard the crunch of gravel. Now who?

Car doors slammed and a burly man darkened the doorway. She could see there were two others behind him.

“About time,” Mike snapped.

She glanced at Janice, who looked just as surprised as she felt. She looked up at Mike, waiting for an explanation. His eyes had taken on an iciness that sent a shiver racing through her.

“We got here as quickly as possible, Lothar,” the first man said.

Lothar? Who’s Lothar?

“Is that the bitch?” the man asked, indicating her.

Anger having come to full bloom, Leah sprang to her feet. “I don’t know who you are, but I didn’t invite you into my house and I won’t be called names. Get out! All of you get out. Mike, who are these men?”

He ignored her question. “That’s her, Olaf. The other one is her mother. Secure them both.”

Olaf and one of the men surged at her. The other man angled off toward her mother. Leah fought like a tigress, but the strength and size of the men quickly prevailed. In a short time, plastic ties secured her arms and legs. Olaf ripped a piece from her now-buttonless blouse and shoved it in her mouth, cutting off her swearing. He stood behind her, holding her down in the chair. She glared at Mike for a moment and glanced at her mom. Her arms and legs were also bound.

“We’ll take the witch with us. What about this one?” the man holding her mother asked.

Mike directed his gaze at her. In a voice cold enough to freeze a bonfire, he said, “She’s of no further use. Kill her.”

Leah struggled, attempting to rise, but Olaf held her in place. She watched the third man draw a wicked-looking knife and plunge it into her mother’s heart while holding his hand over her mouth to keep her silent. After twisting it several times, he pulled it free. Leah watched in shock until her mother’s wild bucking and twisting stopped. A spreading stain of blood spread over her green blouse as the older woman twitched. Her head bobbed, and she was gone.

Callously, the man wiped the blade clean on her mother’s clothes.

The gag in her mouth muffled Leah’s choking sobs. Tears stung her eyes. She closed them, attempting in vain to shut out the awful sight of her mother being murdered. Pain lanced through her heart.

NEW RELEASE February 1, 2014

The Storm Prince by M. L. John

#gypsyshadow #fantasy #youngadult

http://www.amazon.com/Storm-Prince-Knight-Avalon-ebook/dp/B00I5ZF7GO

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-storm-prince-m-l-john/1118427521

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/403860

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/MLJohn.html#SPrince

A defiant prince of Faerie fights to retake his homeland and uphold the ideals for which his father was executed. The Storm Prince, by M. L. John. Available from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at: 

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/MLJohn.html#SPrince

Beriani Quintinar, the youngest son of Faerie’s High king, is brilliant, beautiful, and spoiled as only a prince of the Sidhe can be. He has committed an unforgivable sin—he has fallen in love with the half-human daughter of a traitor. When ogres conquer Avalon and execute his father, he must convince the treacherous Queen of Summer to give him troops enough to win back his homeland. But if he makes it home, what kind of king can he be when he has already committed treason?

Word Count: 50000

Pages to Print: 165

Price: $4.99

Coming March 1, 2014!

The Will and the Way by Hendrik van Oordt

#gypsyshadow #romance #contemporary

Torn between wild-cat oil operator Will Evans and current lover yaughtsman John Dunesne, cellist Kim Chalmers puts her future happiness on the line. Coming soon to Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Smashwords, other fine eBook vendors and Gypsy Shadow Publishing at:

http://www.gypsyshadow.com/HendrikvanOordt.html#top

Cellist Kim Chalmers is in Paris preparing for a world tour when her fiancé, yaughtsman John Dunesne, is caught in a storm and reported missing. Haunted by John's loss and a failed childhood love for which she still feels responsible, Kim gets deeply depressed and ready to give up a promising career.

Agent and friend Anne Willink discovers the whereabouts of Kim's childhood love, Will Evans, now a wild-cat oil operator in the Sahara, and tries to rekindle the fire between Kim and Will. Just then John Dunesne is found alive on the Irish coast. Kim's heart is in a turmoil. She is faced with a terrible choice. Will she make the right decision?

Word Count: 59400

Pages to Print: 211

Price: $4.99

EXCERPT

“You didn’t bring any bedding?” Will Evans sounded almost sympathetic in his perplexity. “What did you expect to find here? A hotel?”

A smile briefly lit up his face, and Anne could once again feel the powerful attraction exuded by this man. But he didn’t explain the reason for his smile and it was gone in an instant, leaving the same handsome mask as before. He had probably been laughing at her.

“I’ll give you my tent for the night.”

Anne didn’t argue. She was a modern woman who valued her gender equality, but she was far too scared of what was happening to protest that she could sleep under the stars as well as any man. She had never camped out in her life and she had already come to the conclusion that she would never ever do so again. Something was rustling somewhere, and something else was calling to the moon. Away to the right she could make out the silhouettes of the men talking quietly among themselves. Meekly she followed Will Evans to her quarters, a triangular tent so low you had to crouch to get in.

“No extra blankets, I’m afraid. You better keep your clothes on. The tent is insulated, but it’s a lot colder out here than at Fort Khaldun.”

He took out his bedroll, which he dumped right in front of the shelter.

“This is where I’ll be sleeping. If you need to go to the bathroom, it’s back there.” He pointed beyond a hillock and looked at her with an amused air. “Just don’t expect a bathroom.”

 

Prologue

“It’s a good thing your parents don’t know I’m here.” The girl laughed breathlessly.

The boy and the girl were running through the orchard by Hardwood River. Ahead rose the old boathouse, derelict and abandoned since the construction of the new shed near the manor.

It was raining heavily. Both adolescents were drenched. The boy’s heart ached at the sight of the running girl in her bedraggled summer dress, clinging wet to her skin as though it never wanted to let go. It was the way he wanted to hold onto her.

When they reached the door, she turned and smiled through the wet strands of hair plastered against her cheeks and forehead. She took the boy’s face in her hands and kissed him.

“You look so serious,” she whispered. “I want you to tell me your problems. But first I want you to make love to me. That’s all I want from life. Happiness. You.”

“No!” The boy tore himself away, staring wide-eyed at her. “No,” he said again. He was crying soundlessly. “Laetitia knows and is threatening to tell Mom.”

The girl sagged to the ground against the building. “Aunt Mary will kill you,” she said, “if she finds out.”

He shrugged, unable to express himself. How could he explain that he wouldn’t mind whatever punishment his mother had in store for him as long as he could have her?

“I’m leaving home,” he said softly.

The girl looked up sharply. After a moment she laid a hand on his knee. “And me?”

He shook his head in silence. She scrambled to her feet.

“I’m coming with you.”

“No.”

“You can’t stop me.”

No, but society can, he thought sadly. “You’re seventeen, without a passport, and you’re my cousin. If we ran off together, Laetitia would be sure to tell Mom what was going on between us and the police would haul us back in no time. Your life would no longer be worth living. And if I stayed, we’d try to continue what we’re doing. We wouldn’t be able to stop ourselves.”

He stood looking at her for a long time, unable to tear his eyes away from her face.

“I love you, Kim,” he said at last. “I’ve loved you forever, it seems.”

She took his face again in her hands and whispered, “Make love to me.”

He closed his eyes against her searching look. She was scanning his face as if she wanted to reach inside his mind for an argument that would convince him to stay. She bit his ear and put one of his hands on her breast. “Make love to me,” she said again.

He took her hand in his and kissed it long and desperately.

“I’ve signed up on an oil rig for the season. I’m flying out tonight. I’ll be stationed in Greenland. I’ll write.”

The girl began to cry, burying her face in his chest.

One

The neighborhood had that old-world charm you find in so many European cities, with deep courtyards, alleys at odd angles, old and rather dusty shops, bars and restaurants everywhere, and far too much traffic for the narrow streets.

It was a beautiful day in Paris, and Kim Chalmers stood lazily watching a couple of teenagers from her second-floor apartment window, enjoying the heat of the late summer sun on her face and upper body. The two kids in the street below were flirting heavily, laughing and showing each other pictures on their cell phones, with just enough body distance to suggest that they might not yet be together. It wouldn’t be long before they found each other, she thought. They would make a cute item. If John were here, he would have concluded cynically that they were negotiating a temporary truce between the sexes. But that was John, and she loved him for what he was, macho warts and all. For all his outward display of cynicism, she knew him for a softy who could not get enough of her and who would stand by her come hell or high water. Literally. John had seen enough rough weather and human misery while sailing around the world on his yacht to be ready to fight for the true things in life, and for reasons she could only marvel at, he thought she was the truest thing in his life.

She thought they would soon be married, if his parents had anything to do with it. His people were the type to keep pushing and arranging until everything was boxed tidily and prettily where it belonged, with the lid on and a neat label, ready for sailing on the great ship of life. Kim and John definitely belonged in the box labeled marriage. John’s mother kept saying so, and Kim had to admit they made a handsome couple. If she had qualms about the freckles on the bridge of her nose and a constant fear of growing fat, she had no doubts at all about John’s physique. He was easily one of the best-looking men she had ever seen, with the sort of carefree walk that made him stand out from the crowd wherever he went; dark, with untamed eyes that made any woman’s heart race faster, and a smile that opened all doors for him.

The sun had dipped behind the buildings across the street, and the kids below her window had moved on, absorbed by the shadows and their own private world. She turned toward the room, wondering what life was all about anyway. All day long she had been feeling strangely nostalgic and rebellious. She loathed anything smacking of self-pity and nostalgia, and yet she was feeling homesick for a past that was utterly irrelevant to her life and future. Perhaps it was the two kids with their cell phones or the burnished copper of the setting sun, reminding her of an Indian summer just like this when she had passionately loved and lost. More likely, the growing pressure on the part of John’s mother highlighted her own doubt that marriage was what she wanted right now with her career taking off. But wherever she looked, things seemed to be throwing up memories of years gone by.

She sighed and looked at her reflection in the mirror and at the comfortable room behind, with its pleasant clutter and spacious dimensions. Even if she did not share John’s unbridled admiration for her looks, the mirror told her she was good-looking by any standard, while her apartment spoke of a life without financial worries. In the words of the magazines, she had it all—talent, beauty and, if not wealth, enough money to lead an independent life. She had no reason to feel sorry for herself. She was twenty-seven and engaged to a dashing adventurer, a once-in-a-lifetime man who was also a gentleman in this graceless day and age, with a circle of friends that was equally glamorous and wild. A man who paid the daily compliment of telling her she was the most beautiful woman in the world and who backed it up with endless gifts. She had no right to indulge in that sort of nonsense.

Resolutely, she turned on the light, took her cello from its stand and placed it between her knees. With just three months to go before a series of concerts that would take her to major concert halls around the world, on the verge of an international breakthrough, this was not the moment to pretend a mid-life crisis. Besides, it was extremely unfair to John. The past was over and done with. She had cried enough to fill a bathtub after Will’s departure and it hadn’t brought him back. For years she had thought she would never forget him and now, when she had finally forgotten, a red sunset and a few rose-colored memories were going to bring him back and spoil the party? Teenage love. Never again, thank you very much. Look at the puppy love of those kids passing below her window. Think of the tears they would shed, only to go off and make an entirely different life with someone else, all promises forgotten.

Angrily she tightened the bow of her instrument, snapping several horsehairs.

“Stupid girl,” she muttered, anxiously eying the wood for cracks. Her bow was a beautiful example from a 19th-century maker, a gift from her teacher when she graduated with honors from the conservatory, and she’d never forgive herself if she damaged it. “No man is worth your ruination, you hear?” she crooned as she loosened the screw. “Not John, not Will, not any man.”

She played old folk tunes of the kind that wailed about broken promises and impossible loves, until the professional in her took over and she settled down to playing scales. She had been at it for over an hour, almost satisfied with the blur of her fingers as they slid, stopped and vibrated across the fingerboard, when the doorbell rang. She wondered who it could be. She did not encourage unannounced callers when practicing.