As if it were a choice. GABRIELA CALÍ could go into foster care three months shy of her eighteenth birthday or answer the call that whispers through her Gypsy blood. Come to Siberia.
Gabriela escapes Wilkes County, Georgia, but can’t outrun the longings that haunt her—for the flamenco dancer mother who abandoned her, for the Roma father she never knew, for a family and a place to belong. She is lonely, but she is not alone. At the Puppet Theater Hostel in St. Petersburg, she meets ANTON, the alluring but frightening green-eyed stranger who seems strangely familiar, and EINAR, the enigmatic Viking who becomes her instant ally.
A visit to the Winter Palace reveals her ties to Catherine the Great, Empress of Russia, to Anton and his interdisciplinary coven of mythical protectors, to the dark SAMA’EL who wants to possess her power for his own, and to her role as The Nexus—the only hope to heal the rift that separated man and myth before time began and could ultimately destroy them both. No pressure.
Gabriela is propelled on a Transsiberian adventure to mend the rift, outrun evil, and maybe even find her long-lost family. Her choices will test not only her ability to believe in love, but her ability to believe in herself.
TRANSSIBERIAN is a 75,000 word YA Urban Fantasy. Readers who enjoy the voice of Zoey Redbird (House of Night), the historical twist of A Great and Terrible Beauty, and the exotic promise of a foreign adventure may also enjoy Transsiberian.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
I smelled her before I saw her. She obliterated the library’s comforting paper scent with her cotton candy body spray—blech. Shelby Goodwin stood in front of me at the information desk wearing a self-satisfied smirk and a sundress, surrounded by three of her ladies in waiting.
“Do y’all have any books on witchcraft?” She smacked her bubble gum between every word. Super classy.
My eyes narrowed—this prank was nothing new but Shelby had a lot of nerve trespassing on my turf. First of all, school was out for the summer and we were going to be seniors next year—wasn’t there some sort of maturity clause that should kick in here soon? I mean, the high school cafeteria was fair play but harassment at the workplace was normally reserved for underclassmen—underclassmen who played the tuba or volunteered to be hall monitors.
Not only that, but my grandmother had died two weeks ago and holier-than-thou Barbie and her copycat friends damn well knew it. A fresh pang of grief jackhammered my chest, and I swallowed hard to keep my face impassive.
“They’re all checked out right now, but if you want to stop by my place later I’ll let you borrow some of mine,” I replied dryly. I moved my hands protectively over the tickets I had been admiring—my almost-too-good-to-be-real tickets for the Transsiberian Railway—and met her glare. Trust me, this look of cool indifference might seem effortless but it’s taken years of practice to perfect.