At 24, Tilda Parish had it all; her own band and a man she knew was 'the one' but fate had other plans. A fatal car crash took her boyfriend's life and sent Tilda into a spiral of grief.
Seventeen years later, Tilda is married with a 13-year old daughter but her career as a singer-songwriter has been turbulent and unstable. Unable to balance her volatile career with her obligations to her family, Tilda makes a life-changing decision to walk away from music forever. Yet, after burning her guitar in a ritual bonfire, Tilda discovers that the past isn't done with her. Hints of her old life pop up mysteriously and ghosts of her past haunt her present.
Alone one night, Tilda confronts an intruder she believes to be a stalker but the figure that steps from the shadows almost stops her heart. Her old beau appears, the one who died all those years ago.
He hasn't aged a day. He says that he never stopped loving her and that he wants her back. Despite his death and the intervening seventeen years, Tilda realizes that she never stopped loving him either.
And now Tilda Parish is caught between two worlds; the everyday world of her husband and family and this new spooky world of an old lover who has returned from the shadow of death to find her.
What's an ex-musician to do?
Released September 2014
Just over 200 book sales thru Amazon.com
current rank #446,274
I know that's not impressive but I think this book has potential.
WHEN TILDA PARISH OPENED her eyes, the world was all wrong. It was upside down. She had to blink twice before realizing that it wasn’t, in fact, the world that was all wrong; it was her. The car had landed on its roof and Tilda hung inverted like some demented bat, tangled in the seatbelt.
Under her lay the remains of the windshield, a thousand pieces of shattered safety glass blown over the ceiling of the wrecked car. The engine still running. Something wet dripped up her nose and trickled into her eyes and when she wiped it away, her hands came away bloodied.
“Gil?” Her voice was cracked and parched. She turned to the passenger seat but it was empty.
Gil was gone.
She screamed his name but there was no response, no sound beyond the lapping of water against the pier.
Later in hospital, there would be great gaps in her memory about the accident itself and what came after but everything preceding it was sharp and crisp. Small details recalled with clarity about that last night they were together. The last night before Gil died, before her life was cleaved into to two halves; before and after. Her memory recall was a blessing at times and other times it was a curse. She clung to every detail, she wished she could forget the whole thing.
She had performed that night, standing on the black painted stage of the El Mocambo. Its stink of spilled beer and limes that should have been tossed the day before, the cloud of cigarette smoke boiling over the hot stage lamps.
Already translated. Translated by Angela D'Ambrosio
Great work by a talented translator. Angela D'Ambrosio did a great job in a short time. She's a pleasure to work with.
Already translated. Translated by Rosalba Gonzalez Perales