The Beautiful Dead: A Tale of K-Pop, Ghosts, and Nine-Tailed Fox Women by Jun Prince

The Beautiful Dead:  A Tale of K-Pop, Ghosts,

and Nine-Tailed Fox Women

Jun Prince

Genre:  Urban Fantasy/Paranormal

Publisher: Apollo and Nyx Publishing

Date of Publication:   September 22, 2017

ISBN:   978-0999491300

ASIN: B075VXNMDD

Number of pages:  346 (Print)

Word Count:  97k Words

Cover Artist:  Damonza

A lonely Korean pop star learns her high school classmate died five years ago. So why are they still texting?

Book Description:

Yubin knows she’s different than the other girls in the pop group SIITY. Yes, they all got sucked into the same machine, giving up schooling and signing ridiculously long contracts before anyone knew if they'd be successful, but that's how pop stars are made in Korea. Yubin is supposed to be thankful for that, but she isn't. She doesn't even like the girls she performs with. 

She’s more connected to her former schoolmate Jieun, even though all they ever do is text. Over the last two months, Jieun has become her confidant and best friend, connecting Yubin to the real world in a way she desperately needs. Now that SIITY is going to appear on the reality show The Incredible Race: Asia, Yubin will need that connection more than ever, which is why she’s devastated to discover Jieun has been dead five years and is actually haunting her. 

If that weren’t enough, Yubin’s not the only SIITY member with issues. Rena’s father is emotionally abusive. Somi has a learning disability, and after a near death experience, Tae-eun becomes a nine-tailed fox woman. The only way they’ll survive the show, each other, and the supernatural currents buffeting them is to work together and win the hearts of their fans. Because if they don’t, they have nothing to go back to even if they survive what's trying to kill them.  

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Excerpt 3 (586 words):

Tae-eun

Yubin looked at the gumiho. A moment of stunned silence settled between the two women like a moment somehow out of time and place untouched by the urgent emotions of the now. Yubin stood in the hall beside the bathroom, and unable to see Michi, Tae-eun crouched beside her bed. Time caught up.

Yubin shrieked.

“Aaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeee!!!” God, that woman has powerful lungs.  

“Yubin!” Tae-eun yelled.

Yubin blinked and paused her noise upon recognizing her name in the twisted animal sounds spilling from Tae-eun’s throat. It gave Tae-eun the moment she needed to make the sign of the cross, direct her eyes toward the ceiling and say “Sorry…” in apology for abusing the name of The Lord.

“Aaaaaiiiiiiiieeeeeee!!!!!!!!!” Yubin shrieked again.

The sound made Tae-eun’s head rattle. It struck her between the eyes as if the other woman tried in earnest to give Tae-eun the world’s first sonic lobotomy. If the first call had been a shriek of surprise, the tail end of the latter was most certainly a battle cry. Tae-eun’s unnie darted to the minibar, and hurled a heavy glass at Tae-eun’s skull. She dodged out of the way, but then Rena appeared behind her.

“What the..?” Was all Rena had time to say before leaping on to Tae-eun’s bed. She rolled to the head board and armed herself with a pillow. Yubin seemed ready to hurl a pack of M&Ms at Tae-eun when Rena clobbered the werefox with the pillow on top of the head.

Owwweee! What the hell? It didn’t hurt, but what else was she supposed to think when she was suddenly attacked by her best friend and the SIITY group leader.

“Rena-ya!” Yubin called, and somehow that was all Rena needed to know that Yubin required a pillow. Rena tossed one in Yubin’s direction, spun, and smashed her own pillow into Tae-eun’s muzzle. That one really did hurt. The Gumiho screamed as sparkles swam through her vision.

Yubin hadn’t hit Tae-eun yet, but that was only because she was filling the pillow case with cans of coke and mini bottles of alcohol. The leader whirled the 420 thread count sack of pain over her head, and landed a blow that sounded with an audible crack against Tae-eun’s jaw.

A loud snapping sound escaped the bathroom. Something darted through the air like a flying snake. Michi had been laughing, at the site of the three meter werefox being pillow pounded by two skinny girls half her size, but then the shark woman started gagging. Tae-eun couldn’t see what had happened because at first Yubin blocked her view, and now she was too busy huddling on the floor with her arms protecting her head in the fetal position.

“Don’t… “ another powerful blow to the back of the head from Rena. Damn she’s strong!” “you…!” Yubin’s weighted blow crashed down on her back. Owe! “realize…!” another blow from Rena as she downed her feather filled club like an executioner’s axe. “that I could…!” Yubin delivered another painful blow to Tae-eun’s side and then Rena and Yubin hit her at exactly the same time.

Tae-eun had enough.

Moving faster than any living creature her size should have been able, she grabbed one of her attackers in each of her massive hands. She threw Rena forcefully on to her own bed, and then tossed Yubin effortlessly onto the other where Michi had been sitting.

“…tear you apart!” Neither of the women had a proper sense of self preservation. Attacking a gumiho with pillows… With pillows!

About the Author:

Jun has lived in Asia for the better part of the last decade. During his years in Korea, he made a point of learning about and getting as close to the Korean entertainment industry as possible while writing his first novel "The Beautiful Dead." He enjoys telling stories about monstrous humans and humanized monsters.

He has a MFA from the University of California - Riverside, graduated with a BA in English Cum Laude from the University of Washington - Seattle, and attended Yonsei University in Seoul, South Korea as an exchange student.

https://www.facebook.com/JunPrinceAuthor/

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17179293.Jun_Prince

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/36297368-the-beautiful-dead

https://twitter.com/AuthorJunPrince

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Ghosts, and Why We Love Them - Building Celebration House by Annette Drake

Ghosts, and Why We Love Them

Ghosts loom large in my Celebration House Trilogy, especially in the first book, “Building Celebration House.” I think that’s why readers ask me, “Do you believe in ghosts?” Yes, I do. Have I ever seen one personally? Sadly, no.

But I’m taken with the idea of ghosts because, well, think about it! A ghost is actually a time traveler. He or she lived in their time and now, they live in ours.
An editor who helped with my book encountered my challenges with this concept. Would a ghost – a man who lived in 1800s Missouri – know what a bulldozer is? So, I played with this idea. To a man in 1850s, a bulldozer might mean a slumbering cow. Thus he asks my heroine, “How could a sleeping bull destroy my house?”

Ghosts feature prominently in a slew of movies, not just horror films. Watching Disney’s “Moana” last night with my son – for the third time – I observed that the much beloved grandmother comes back from the grave to motivate the main character.

I have a slew of favorite movie ghosts. I like the playfulness of the 1995 movie, “Casper,” or last year’s remake of “Ghostbusters.” I enjoyed the 1980s films, but I’m delighted with the remake. My husband points out that except for dropping Bill Murray from a two-story window, the ghosts actually harmed no one, besides vomiting a little slime. Those are my kind of specters. Spooky? Sure. Dangerous? Meh. Entertaining? Always.

But the king of my heart is Patrick Swayze in “Ghost,” circa 1990. I’m not alone. This film out-grossed every movie released that year with revenues of $505 million. 

In my novel, “Building Celebration House,” I needed rules for my specters. Why did the ghostly Colonel Stratton frequently move household objects when the other spirits did not? Why did the colonel and his family stay rather than cross over? All questions for my heroine, who has the ability to communicate with these residents of Celebration House, though on more than one occasion, she sure wishes she didn’t.

In the second and third books, readers hear less from the ghostly residents. Carrie can no longer speak for them. It’s a little bit of a hiccup in the series; beta readers tell me they miss the ghosts. But the ghostly residents of Celebration House are always close by, ready to make their presence known when they’re needed.

When I finished writing this book in 2013, I queried one of the largest publishing houses in the U.S. An editor wrote back and said, “I like the story concept, but not the ghosts. Could you delete them and resubmit?”

Celebration House without ghosts? What a frightening idea!

Building Celebration House

The Celebration House Trilogy

Volume 1

Annette Drake

Genre: Women’s fiction/paranormal romance

Publisher: Baskethound Books

Date of Publication:  3/1/17

ISBN: 978-0-9916118-9-8

ASIN: B01NBIK7KJ

Number of pages: 234

Word Count:  52K

Cover Artist: Elizabeth Mackey

Tagline: How can she plan a future with a man who has only a past?

Book Description:

Carrie Hansen spent her life caring for cardiac patients. Little did she know she would become a patient herself.

After recovering from her own heart surgery, she learns she has a special talent: the ability to see and talk with the dead.

Now, with her health failing, she leaves the bustle of Seattle behind and returns to Lexington, Missouri, the small town where she spent her childhood. Here, she sets out to restore an abandoned antebellum mansion and open it as a venue for celebrations.

Carrie’s unique gift allows her to build relationships with the mansion’s ghostly occupants, especially Major Tom Gentry, the handsome Civil War soldier who died 100 years before Carrie was born. He encourages and comforts her, though not in the physical way they both desire.

Will Carrie finish restoring the celebration house or will it finish her? And how can she plan a future with a man who has only a past?

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Excerpt:

When Carrie opened the door and stepped inside, sunlight streamed in through the dirty windows. Even though the barn had been vacant for years, the air smelled of hay and horses.

Looking to her left, she saw a man shaving. He’d glanced up when Carrie opened the doors, but returned his gaze to the small mirror tacked to the wooden beam. He was bare from the waist up. His chest was lean and muscular, with dark brown hair from mid-chest to his waistline. His arms were powerfully built, and his right hand was steady as he scraped the white soap from his angular jaw with a razor. His dark blue uniform pants with gold braid down the side were tucked into knee-high black leather boots. He stood at least six feet tall, and though Carrie hadn’t made her living in the carnival, she guessed he was probably younger than her, likely in his mid to late twenties. He peered at the small mirror, tilting his chin to swipe away the shaving soap. Carrie waited to speak until after he’d finished with the ivory-handled straight blade and dipped it into the basin of soapy water.

“Good morning,” she said.

His expression was an equal mix of surprise and annoyance. He dropped the razor and grabbed his shirt off a nearby nail. He turned his back to Carrie and pulled it on.

“You can see me, madam?” he asked, buttoning his shirt and stuffing it into his pants.

“Yes. Can you see me?”

“I can, but I believe I have the advantage. I’m dead. You are not.” He turned and glared at her. His eyebrows furrowed as though he wasn’t quite sure how they’d arrived at the point of introductions.

“I’m sorry to intrude. I’m Carrie. Carrie Hansen.” She extended her hand.

He reached to shake her hand, but his fingers passed through hers. They both jerked back.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to intrude,” she said.

“You surprised me. That’s all. We seldom receive visitors, especially living ones who can see us.” He put on his blue uniform coat and fastened the long row of brass buttons. “I’m Major Thomas Gentry, at your service.” He bowed.

“I’m sorry I startled you. I sometimes forget ghosts aren’t accustomed to being seen.”

His eyes narrowed and he frowned. “How may I be of service to you, Miss Hansen?”

“Where can I find Colonel Stratton? I need to speak with him.”

His dark blue eyes showed his increasing puzzlement. “The living do not go looking for Colonel Stratton. What business have you with him?”

“I bought this house, and I intend to live here.”

“You bought Stratton House?”

“And I need to speak with the colonel.”

Major Gentry shook his head as though to sort through the details. “Please forgive me. You bought Stratton House, you intend to live here, and you wish to speak with the home’s proprietor, Colonel Stratton?”

“I thought we’d covered that,” she said. “You don’t get many visitors, do you?”

About the Author:

Annette Drake is a multi-genre author whose work is character-driven and celebrates the law of unintended consequences.

She makes her home in Washington state. A member of the Romance Writers of America, she loves ferry rides, basset hounds and bakeries. She does not camp.

Website: http://annettedrake.com/

Blog: http://annettedrake.com/annettes-blog/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/annettedrake13

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/AnnetteDrakeBooks/

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7201880.Annette_Drake

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Ghost Stories with Sharon Buchbinder

Ghost Stories

Paranormal events have played a role in my life since childhood. I have always accepted this alternate reality that many others do not experience or recognize. Their disbelief doesn’t dismiss my psychic experiences: dreams that come true, that I think of someone–and that person calls, and that I knew my sister was pregnant before she did. In the 1970’s while a psychology major at the University of Connecticut, I participated in telepathy/remote viewer experiments using the now famous J.B. Rhine Zener cards and other images. My “hit rate” as a receiver was statistically greater than chance occurrence.

Ghost hunters, like my friend Rosemary Ellen Guiley, will tell you the majority of hauntings are residual. Sort of like a video playing the same scene over and over, these phenomena are not interactive with living people. One of the most famous of these in America is Lincoln’s phantom train. Railroad workers saw the procession traveling nightly along the same route his funeral train took, long after Lincoln was buried. To this day, some people still report seeing it. Contrasted with these non-interactive phenomena, there are the highly interactive or even chatty ghosts that will do anything to get you to listen or see them. These spirits are unaware they are dead and will attempt to get the living’s attention because they have unfinished business, or simply don’t want to leave their last place of residence. I’ve experienced both types of hauntings, but the interactive spirits are the most interesting. Herewith are a few of my favorite ghost stories.

Treasures and Trash

My mother-in-law, Gertrude, may she rest in peace, was a New Yorker who traveled the world with her husband, The Doctor, collecting trinkets along the way. She was a real character, and I modeled a character after her in several of my books. Several years after she passed away at the age of 84, I decided it was time for me to clean out her battered Chinese jewelry box.

Going through the baubles and beads, I couldn’t help but marvel at the eclecticism of her tastes, ranging from the treasure of a delicate filigreed gold hamsa (hand) to the trash of necklaces made from two inch round white plastic globules strung together on fishing line.

A tattered sandwich bag containing orange beads came to hand and I extracted a broken necklace with care. The beads appeared to be plastic and were dirty and peeling in places.

“Trash,” I said out loud.

“Be careful with that, Sharon! It’s very valuable,” my long dead mother-in-law rasped in my ear.

I placed the beads in a new sandwich bag and took them to our jeweler for appraisal.

“Plastic,” she said, tapping a flaking bead on the glass counter.

“My mother-in-law told me they were valuable.”

“In your dreams. But, tell you what, I’ll take it in the back and look at it under a microscope.”

A few moments later, she returned with a bright red bauble in her hand, shaking her head.

“The beads are really dirty. They seem to be covered in layers and layers of hairspray. That’s the stuff that’s flakes off when you touch them. I’ve never seen anything like it and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t believe it. These beads are red coral and must be worth at least $3000.”

That night, I thanked Gertrude. She was laughing.

Just Passing Through

Almost ten years ago, a very good friend (S) died unexpectedly. He’d had quadruple bypass surgery after chest pain and had been discharged, in good shape, to the care of his 70+ mother and girlfriend. Within a week of his discharge, at age 54, he was in a coma and dead.

My husband was devastated. He and S had been close buddies. We live in Maryland full time and have a second home in Florida. S had sold us our Florida house and had been in the process of working with us to build a new home. Hubby and S had much in common: football, good food, wine, an eye for pretty women. So when he passed over, it was a major loss in our lives. His girlfriend never told us when the memorial service was, so we never had an opportunity to pay our last respects.

The week after he died, per my usual I went to the kitchen at six in the morning to get coffee. As soon as I entered the kitchen, the lights flickered madly and the alarm on my husband’s sports car went off. I played with the light switches and they stopped flickering. Then I ran outside to turn off the car alarm.

This scenario was repeated for a week.

The third time it happened, I said, “S, we miss you, too. Thanks for coming by.” I told my husband S had come through, and he asked if I thought he would be with us for a while. I said, “I think until he wants to say good-bye, because we never had a chance to do it in person.”

We haven’t heard from in quite a while, but every time we go to Florida, we wonder if we’ll “see” him.

Haunted Duplex

When I was in college, I shared a duplex with four other women. The day I moved into my attic room, as I unpacked my boxes, I heard my roommate shout, “Sharon!” I ran downstairs, only to find Cindy in the shower. When she came out, I asked if there had been a problem.

She smiled. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. We have a ghost.” This ghost moved things around, knocked things off shelves and mimicked other roommates’ and even boyfriends’ voices to get attention. She also paced a hallway that ran from the kitchen to the bedroom on the main floor.

One night I pulled an all nighter for an Organic Chemistry exam (not my best subject!). I had a little dachshund, named Bisou, who went everywhere with me. That night I studied in the kitchen, drinking gallons of coffee, memorizing benzene rings. I decided to take a little nap. I cuddled on the couch with Bisou and closed my eyes. The doxie started shaking and whining and I heard the footsteps. They came closer and the dog became more agitated. The ghost was standing right next to the couch and the dog was in a frenzy.

“Please,” I said, “I need to get some rest, this exam is really important to me. And you’re making my dog crazy. Could you please go away?”

The ghost’s footsteps receded from the side of the couch, down the hall and then stopped. I aced the exam (a miracle).

After I had been living in the haunted duplex in for a few months, I invited my sister-in-law and brother over for dinner to meet my new boyfriend, my roommates, and see the place. My room was in the attic, and at $25 a month for rent (5 women, $125 total!) I wasn’t complaining about my space. I was very happy to be there and grateful to have such a bargain. The ghost was almost an added value at that point.

We had appetizers, did not really get to dinner, when my brother, a Vietnam vet and Green Beret who to this day keeps in touch with buddies from the 82^nd Airborne, said, “Why don’t you show us the place?”

My then boyfriend had already been repeating all the strange events (with embellishments) that I had told him about and was making Twilight Zone music.

As I led my brother and sister-in-law up the stairs to my room in the attic, the now very annoying boyfriend said, “Ooooooo! Can yooooou feeeeeel the spiriiiiit?”

“Yes, I can,” my brother said. “She’s right next to me, has shoulder length brown hair, and is wearing a brown print dress. She’s very lonely.”

My brother turned on his heel without even reaching the attic and raced down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell he said, “I have to go! She’s all over me. It’s like she’s so happy I can see her, she’s trying to get under my skin.”

My brother and astonished sister-in-law ran out the door. The dinner party was over and so was my relationship with that idiot boyfriend.

PostScript: Ever since that night, my brother literally “sees dead people.” I always thought it was interesting that I heard them. It’s as if each of us got one part of the psychic abilities, but not the whole package!

The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle        

Sharon Buchbinder

Genre: Contemporary, Paranormal, Fantasy

Publisher: The Wild Rose Press

Date of Publication: November 16, 2016

Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1153-1

Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1154-8

Number of pages: 198

Word Count: 48,000

Cover Artist: Rae Monet

Tagline: The past meets the present when a curse turn-of-the-century man meets a feisty modern day woman.

Book Description:

When hotel inspector, Tallulah Thompson, is called in along with her pug, Franny, to investigate renovation delays, she meets an extremely annoyed and dapper turn-of-the-century innkeeper. The only problem is he’s in limbo, neither dead nor alive, and Tallulah and the pug are the first to see him in a hundred years.

Cursed by a medicine woman, “Love ‘em and Leave ‘em Lucius” Stewart is stuck between worlds until he finds his true love and gives her his heart. When he first sees Tallulah, he doesn’t know what he’s feeling. Yet, her stunning beauty, and feisty attitude pull him in.

With the fate of Hotel LaBelle on the line, Tallulah with the help of a powerful medicine woman turns Lucius back into a flesh and blood man. She and Lucius team up to save the hotel, but Tallulah can't help but wonder if he will ever let go of his past love and learn to love again.

Book Trailer: https://youtu.be/OB-RseyCWyM

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Short Intro:

This short novel gives readers insights into Homeland Security Anomaly Defense Director Bert Blackfeather’s Native American heritage. An in-between book in the Jinni Hunter Series, this is a lighter paranormal tale than the others. Take one Montana innkeeper from an era when men were men and women were glad of it, one sassy hotel inspector with a pug on patrol, and stir in a generous dollop of humor and sexual tension—and you have The Haunting of Hotel LaBelle. Come along to Big Sky Country and enjoy the ride with Tallulah, Lucius, Bert, and his sister, Emma as they join forces to rescue the people and the hotel they love.

Excerpt:

A book flew at his head—and sailed through him, bouncing off the wall and landing on the floor.

            Mouth agape, the woman stared from him to the book and back to him again. “You’re a ghost.”

            “Not exactly. Shall we start over?” He leaned against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. “After a hundred years of being invisible to everyone except you, I’d like to know who you are and what you’re doing here.”

            “Of course. Why not? Could today get any weirder?” She sank into the desk chair, shook her head, and sighed. “My name is Tallulah Thompson. I’m a hotel inspector, hired by the current owner as a consultant to find out why the renovations are delayed and what he needs to do to fix it. He’s teetering on the brink of bankruptcy.”

            “What tribe are you?”

            She jerked her head up and those doggone lapis lazuli eyes of hers sparked as if she’d strike him with lightning and kill him with one look. “No one asks that. It’s not politically correct.”

            “Well, I guess you haven’t been talking to the right people. And I don’t know what you mean by that last part. I’ve never been involved in politics.”

            “Nowadays, it’s considered rude to ask about another person’s national origins.” She threw her hands up. “Why am I giving a ghost an etiquette lesson? What am I thinking?”

About the Author:

Sharon Buchbinder has been writing fiction since middle school and has the rejection slips to prove it. An RN, she provided health care delivery, became a researcher, association executive, and obtained a PhD in Public Health. When not teaching or writing, she can be found fishing, walking her dogs, or breaking bread and laughing with family and friends in Baltimore, MD and Punta Gorda, FL.

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sharon.buchbinder.romanceauthor

Twitter ID @sbuchbinder https://twitter.com/sbuchbinder

Instagram: https://instagram.com/sharon_buchbinder/

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/sbuchbinder/

Blog http://sharonbuchbinder.blogspot.com/

Website http://www.sharonbuchbinder.com/index.html

Goodreads author page https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4417344.Sharon_Buchbinder

Newsletter http://www.sharonbuchbinder.com/contact.html#newsletter

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Guest Blog and Giveaway: Ghost Love by Nelli Rees

GHOSTS, GHOULIES AND THINGS THAT GO BUMP IN THE MOSCOW NIGHTS

Privet! (That’s Russian for “Hi!”).

I’m Nelli Rees and my first novel “Ghost Love” is out now, published by Phaze, billed as a ‘romantic thriller with a flavoring of the supernatural’. “Ghost Love” has two intertwined stories set twenty years apart these following the adventures of a Russian girl, Tonia, as she discovers that true love really does conquer all … even death.

Being Russian I guess it’s inevitable I should be drawn to the supernatural. The Russians’ love affair with the paranormal goes back a long way. In Norse legends there were two races of people: the warlike Aesir and the fey Vanir. According to the Icelandic chronicler Snorri Sturluson, the source of our knowledge of the Norse myths, the Vanir lived in Vanaheimr that he etymologizes as the “Land of the Don-People”, and the Don is one of Russia’s great rivers. The inference is that Russians have Vanir blood running in their veins.

So it’s hardly surprising that one of the major figures in the psychical ‘sciences’ is a Russian, Helena Petrovna Blavatsky. Blavatsky came to prominence in the late nineteenth century, as an occultist who claimed to possess powers enabling her to commune with the spirits inhabiting the Summerworld, the transcendental world beyond human consciousness. Whilst she was unmasked in later life to be something of a charlatan there is a strong body of opinion that when she was young Blavatsky had immense psychical abilities, these diminishing with age. This, apparently, is why Blavatsky resorted to trickery in later life, unable to bear the thought of being seen as “normal”. Whatever the truth, I have much sympathy with the teachings of the Theosophical Society she founded whose motto, “There is no Religion higher than Truth” is one all of us − scientists included − would do well to follow.

And then, of course, there is Rasputin. The rumor is that Rasputin was a starets – a Holy Man – of the khlysty sect active in Russia a century ago. Deep in the Siberian forest the dividing line between Christianity and paganism became blurred, the peasants there following dvoeverie – dual faith – the merging of Seidr magic (the magic of the Norse) with Christianity. The khlysty taught that sin is the most effective means of finding God: in a righteous person sin is always followed by great suffering, this resulting in repentance thus bringing the soul nearer to God. This is why the khlysty indulged in radenie or group sinning (better described as an orgy where the participants’ sexual inhibitions are eliminated by dancing, scourging and alcohol). This ecstatic dancing is an echo of the seething of Seidrkonas, the Vanir witches who were the most powerful exponents of Seidr magic.

So with this sort of cultural heritage to draw on is it any wonder I had to flavor “Ghost Love” with a hint of the paranormal. That’s what we daughters of the Vanir are apt to do. Isn’t it...?

Ghost Love

Nelli Rees

Genre: Romance (with a hint of the paranormal)

Publisher: Phaze

Date of Publication: 20th January 2015

ISBN: ISBN-13 978-1-60659-849-8

ASIN: B00SNYRXH8

Number of pages: 332

Word Count: 90,000

Cover Artist: Niki Browning

Book Description:

In the madcap, chaotic days when Communism crumbled in the USSR, Tonia meets and falls in love with Englishman, Peter Monroe. Despite the protests of her family and the more strenuous

objections of the KGB Tonia agrees to marry Peter only for him to mysteriously disappear.

Twenty years later a life-toughened Toni must revisit these bitter-sweet memories when she finds herself and her daughters endangered by the consequences of that love affair.

In her despair Toni comes to realise that true love really does conquer all … even death.

Available at   Phaze   Amazon   BN   ARe

Excerpt:  Prologue

Present Day: Dorset, England

Excitement being a kindred spirit to fear, Toni was undecided as to whether it was a trickle of fear she felt shivering down her spine or a trickle of excitement.

As she sat staring at the screen of her laptop, the darkness shrouding the room seemed to draw in on her: her head swam, her palms became clammy. Tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them away, hoping that by doing so the message on her screen would disappear. It didn’t.

Peter Monroe wants to be friends on Facebook

Hesitantly she maneuvered the cursor over the ‘connect’ button and pressed ‘enter.’ The screen mutated to show the Facebook page for ‘Peter Monroe.’ It was Peter! She recognized the profile photograph instantly. She’d taken it. She remembered posing him in front of the bandstand in Gorki Park on that spring day back in 1990, remembered laughing at the stupid faces he pulled, remembered the way his long chestnut hair flopped over his forehead, remembered…

How could she forget? He had been her one true love.

Love. A word made empty by misuse…by overuse. She wondered how many had ever endured the touch of real love, that soul-eviscerating sensation that comes when you know you have found your soul-mate. Very few, she decided. Perhaps this was all for the good: true love brought anguish in equal measure to joy. As the last twenty years had taught her, finding true love was a bitter-sweet blessing. Her fingers trembled as she typed.

Is it really you, Peter?

The reply was instantaneous.

Yes…I’ve missed you, Tonia.

She couldn’t stop herself: the tears flowed down her cheeks.

But…

She paused, terrified that what she would type next might cause this marvelous mirage to vanish.

But I thought you were dead.

The seconds ticked by, then:

I am.

About the Author:

Nelli Rees, born in Moscow, trained as a linguist and a musician. With her future husband Englishman Rod she worked and travelled around Russia, finally coming to live in England in 1998. Nelli has had several successful careers: recording a critically acclaimed nu-jazz album “Jazz Noir”, becoming an award-winning jewellery maker, writing a book “Glass Bead Jewelry Projects”, and doing all this whilst being a mother and a wife. “Ghost Love” is Nelli’s first novel and draws heavily on her own experiences as a young woman in Soviet Russia and the obstacles she and her husband-to-be faced during those difficult times.

www.ghostlovebynellirees.wordpress.com

https://www.facebook.com/nellirees.author  

https://www.goodreads.com/user/show/32558285-nelli-rees   

Video of Nelli performing "Falling In Love Again":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y2J5Phukc8Y

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