GENRE: historical psychological drama
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BLURB:
A woman living alone in a coastal Sussex town in 1998 plants a copper beech sapling at 3 a.m.
on a dark, cold night. Why?
A ballet dancer in 1960s East Germany is oppressed, longs for escaping with his little daughter
but not his wife. Why? Will he make it?
In 2022 Karsten von Stein, widower and principal of the Royal Ballet, with two young children,
meets Ivone Benjamim, a Portuguese, newly-arrived principal dancer. They discover a magical
chemistry when dancing and soon it transfers to their private lives.
Against the background of ballet and its dancers, a woman called Grace tells her story from a
rehab centre. Obsessive, delusional she begins believing Ivone robbed her of the man of her
dreams—Karsten. And then a skeleton is found in a garden...What connects all these people
and their stories?
You’ll be the audience facing the stage of this balletic novel.
EXCLUSIVE EXCERPT
Two weeks later Adam broke up with me stating he had tired of my demands, of my continuous
interference in his life, making constant calls to his workplace in an attempt to control him. But I
only did that because I missed him and felt miserable when he wasn’t with me. I cried bitter,
hurtful tears but Adam wasn’t affected and simply left. I found out later he had a new girlfriend
and then I understood. It was all her fault. With her sex appeal and alluring arts, the stupid cow
had stolen Adam from me. I tried to win him back but for a variety of reasons it didn’t work the
way I’d planned.
I had to move out of the flat. It was his. Unable to afford a place of my own I moved into an
apartment with Bev and Glenda. Since splitting with Adam I’ve suffered a lot. Lacey thinks it’s
my fault and that I did terrible things. I didn’t. My mistake was to love him and try to free him
from the other woman’s clutches. Lacey, the meddling slut—I shouldn’t call Lacey a slut. It’s
wrong but for a moment my anger gripped me. Anyway, Lacey meddled and forced me to see a
doctor. She thought I needed help. Perhaps I did…or perhaps I didn’t. Personally I don’t think so
but anyway I went through the whole so-called “treatment” and Lacey thought it helped me.
Maybe it did. I don’t know nor do I care. I didn’t know it then but I do now that Lacey paid for
everything. I thought it was the NHS but one of the doctors told me the truth. Perhaps I should
have felt grateful—most people would, I guess—but I didn’t. For a while I almost hated Lacey.
Sometimes I still do. No matter. Resuming.
Since Adam I’ve had no relationship worth mentioning. Not even casual sex. It isn’t my thing. I
prefer to know a man and have feelings for him before jumping into his bed. But for some
inexplicable reason the Stranger from the Strand touched my heart. At least I knew his name
was Karsten. As if that meant anything or would prove useful. Didn’t sound British. Shaking my
head at my own inadequate, over-active imagination, I walked to the taxi stand, deciding in
favour of a cab instead of the bus. I sensed a need for daydreaming before arriving at Lacey’s.
In spite of my unexpected encounter (if one could call it that!) with the Stranger from the Strand
named Karsten at Victoria station, I might have forgotten about him if it weren’t for what
happened the next afternoon. The actual day of my thirtieth birthday.
AUTHOR:
M G da Mota is Margarida Mota-Bull’s pen name for fiction. She is a Portuguese-British novelist
with a love for classical music, ballet and opera. Under her real name she also writes reviews of
live concerts, CDs, DVDs and books for two classical music magazines on the web: MusicWeb
International and Seen and Heard International. She is a member of the UK Society of Authors,
speaks four languages and lives in Sussex with her husband. Her website, called
flowingprose.com, contains photos and information.
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GIVEAWAY
The author will be awarding a $25 Amazon or Barnes and Noble gift card to a randomly drawn
winner.
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