The Gift is my latest re-release.
It‘s an whimsical episodic novella that was the final result of a flash fiction
period I went through. I can be a bit long winded.
I needed to learn to cut my word count. I joined a group that wrote a
weekly story that was based on a limited number of 1,000 words and
had to include some of the offered prompts.
Some were words – extinct, a piece of paper with a single line on it,
or the twelfth of never. Others were pictures – a red tulip, blue DNA
or a kiss.
I realized this story was written similarly to stories that were printed
weekly in the newspapers of old. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle presented
Hounds of the Baskervilles this way – with weekly installments.
Brilliant idea.
The newspaper sales that would generate as people got into the story.
So instead of adjusting to fit the story to more modern thinking, I left it
in the episodic form.
There are elements of mystery, playfulness and romance which tie up at
the very end. But I did leave a deliberate hole for the readers to fill. If
you read the story and wish to discuss with me what you think was on
Excerpt
Do you believe in magic? I am beginning to think I do. It can be the only
possible explanation for my story?
~***~
"When was the last time you were offered the gift of a red tulip?"
I turned to see who spoke while I wondered if he was addressing me.
A man sat on a park bench, dressed in a dark suit, with a bowler hat,
holding a cane and his head bowed. I shifted to continue along the path,
and when his face lifted I found myself gaping at two glowing green eyes.
"When was the last time you were offered the gift of a red tulip?"
I blinked, trying to look away from those mesmerizing orbs. A mixture of
fear and intrigue fluttered in my belly. "Uh, never. I mean, no one
has ever offered me a tulip."
"A red tulip."
"Okay, no one has ever offered me a red tulip." Uneasiness
slithered through me. "Nice chatting with you."
Smiling, I scurried down the path leading away from the park bench and towards the gardener's shed. With Jacobs being sick today, I had to hurry to get the last of the flower beds cleaned and prepared for
spring plantings. The past winter had been bitter. It seemed tree branches and mouse damage wreaked havoc on every one of the one hundred and sixteen different flowerbeds.
I slipped my key into the lock, opened the shed door, stepped inside
and shut it behind me. The fragrance of old wood, potting soil and gas fumes brought a tickle to the back of my throat. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a moment to indulge in the beauty of his eyes. Emerald green. As brilliant as the gems locked among the diamonds at Tiffany's. Not that I shop there.
Couldn't possibly afford anything on a junior gardener's salary, but I do fantasize when wandering the aisles.
What would it be like to be with a man like that? For those few moments in his presence, I was unable to think. My breath caught in my lungs. My palms were slick with beads of sweat. I shook my head, opened my
eyes, and tugged the ever-present hair tie off my wrist. "Get
over yourself, Darcy. A man like that wants a supermodel who can slink around on eight-inch heels. Not someone who digs in the dirt all day."
Blurb and Buy Links
Daryl Devore’s latest is a sweet whimsical romance with a touch of mystery
Darcy O'Calahann, a junior gardener from a small mid-western town,
is trying to make her way in the big city. After a stranger asks a
mysterious question, Darcy finds a red tulip inside her locked
gardening shed.
Shamus McTavis is a wealthy bachelor with a mysterious family past.
But more surprising is his resemblance to the stranger who offered
her the red tulip.
Are Darcy's eyes playing tricks on her? Is she losing her mind? Or is
there really a red tulip trying to link Shamus and her together?
Note- This book was previously published under the author’s pen name – Victoria Adams
Buy Links
Amazon – Australia – Paperback – later date
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