Left for Dead: A Paranormal Women's Midlife Fiction Novel (Gwen's Ghosts Book 4)

LEFT FOR DEAD Gwen’s Ghosts #4 by J.R. RAIN & H.P. MALLORY Gwen’s Ghosts Dance with the Dead Dead and Gone Dead of Night Left for Dead Dead Reckoning Other Books by J.R. Rain VAMPIRE FOR HIRE Moon Dance Vampire Moon American Vampire Moon Child Christmas Moon (novella) Vampire Dawn Vampire Games Moon Island Moon River Vampire Sun Moon Dragon Moon Shadow Vampire Fire Midnight Moon Moon Angel Vampire Sire Moon Master Dead Moon Lost Moon Vampire Destiny Infinite Moon Vampire Empress Moon Elder Wicked Moon Winter Moon Sasquatch Moon Wild Moon Moon Magic Moon World Vampire Deep Moon Matador (coming soon) SAMANTHA MOON ADVENTURES Banshee Moon Moon Monster Moon Ripper Witch Moon Moon Goddess Moon Blaze Golem Moon Moon Maidens SAMANTHA MOON CASE FILES Moon Bayou Blood Moon Parallel Moon SAMANTHA MOON ORIGINS New Moon Rising Moon Mourning Haunted Moon Other Books by H.P. Mallory PARANORMAL WOMEN’S FICTION: Haven Hollow Misty Hollow Gwen’s Ghosts Midlife Spirits Trailer Park Vampire PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Witch and Warlock Vampire Esquire Ever Dark Academy FANTASY ROMANCE: Dark Destinies Gates of the Underworld Lily Harper Dulcie O’Neil PARANORMAL REVERSE HAREM: My Five Kings Happily Never After CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE: Age Gap Romance SCI-FI ROMANCE: The Alaskan Detective TRILOGIES: Dragon’s Birthright Crown of Lies The Dark Circus Midlife Mermaid Chasing Demons Dungeon Raider Here to There Arctic Wolves Wolves of ValhallaLucy Westenra Left for Dead Published by Rain Press Copyright © 2023 by J.R. Rain & H.P. Mallory All rights reserved. Ebook Edition, License Notes This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Reading Sample: Mermaid Mayhem About H.P. Mallory About J.R. Rain Left for Dead Chapter One A Simple Twist of Fete The object in my hand had four legs and seemed to represent some variety of hoofed mammal, maybe the sort you might find in a farmyard. If I’d had to guess, I would have said horse. “It’s three pounds,” said Mrs. Dawson from behind the stall. I nodded, as if weighing my options. Three pounds wasn’t very much and yet still felt overpriced for the ornament. Though that did depend on its origins, I supposed. I genuinely couldn’t be sure if it was a startingly well-preserved Neolithic artifact, the work of a child in kindergarten, or ‘Art’ which excuses all manner of things and in which nothing looks like it’s supposed to. “Whatever animal it is,” judged Petra, who was floating beside me, “the artist seems to have been very angry at it.” Petra had the advantage of being able to say what she liked, as she was a ghost and only I could see and hear her. My gaze went back to the potential horse. I could see what Petra meant. It was as if the unknown artist, child or caveman, had put all of their intense dislike for horses into the sculpture. And yet it did have a certain primitive charm. The longer I looked at it, the more it grew on me. Plus, I’d now been staring at it for way too long not to buy it. Mrs. Dawson was a neighbor of mine and I didn’t want to upset her. Then again, in Morley-on-Avon, everyone was your neighbor. “I’ll take it.” “You’re out of your mind,” said Petra, shaking her head as I paid Mrs. Dawson. “That hideous thing’s going to be glaring at you from a shelf from now on. Urging you to hate horses as much as the artist clearly did.” The town fair, or ‘town fete’ as the Morley locals called it, was a community event that was organized by a group of volunteers and was held during the summer months. Morley’s town fete featured a variety of attractions and activities, such as live music, games, rides, and food stalls. There were also craft stalls, local produce for sale, and various competitions and contests. One of the main features was the country fair atmosphere, with many people dressing in traditional costumes from over the ages (it seemed they preferred the Victorian age here, if all the bustles were anything to go by). “There’s no sense in coming to a town fair and not buying something,” I whispered back. “And an angry, four-legged, possible mammal was your first choice?” Petra shook her head. “You wouldn’t have spent so long at the stall and been forced into buying anything in the first place if you hadn’t been trying to avoid Leo Tanner.” She did have a point there. Given that before moving to the town of Morley I’d lived most of my life in New York, I thought I was adjusting pretty well to life in a small English town. But one thing I was yet to get used to was that everyone seemed to live in each other’s pockets, particularly when it came to romantic entanglements. Coming out of a long-term relationship myself, I’d been eager not to get into any romantic entanglements in the first place. I was content to keep things casual and on the DL. But that intention didn’t chime with a smalltown life, where everyone knows everyone else’s business. Not to mention the fact that if one is considering a relationship in such a place, the tendency for everyone to be in the know was also one of those things that both people needed to be aware of going in. In the heat of the moment, though, there’s not always time for such discussions. Plus, after the heat of the moment, some people do change their minds. Yes, that was a long and blundering paragraph full of excuses for the fact that long story short; there were two men in my life, neither of whom were technically in my life, and yet village gossip was billing us as the ‘will they/won’t they’ love triangle of the season. And while I was insistent