Pride and Pork

By S.D. Grady

For every young lady must be in want of a sturdy pig spear.

Lady Victoria is serving as hostess for the Harvest Dance in Barrow’s Heath. All is well under the full moon, until the roast pig careens around the ballroom not quite dead. Faced with a terrorized village and fainting mother, our young miss fights off the plague of zombie pigs in order to reach the safety of her betrothed's manor. However, Lord Attleby is far more interested in his brandy than assisting the tiny town. Victoria must gather together a band of pig-slaying villagers in order to save their home and to salvage her future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Purple Sword Publications
• Release date: May 30, 2015
• ISBN: 9781612921501

Book preview

PRIDE AND PORK

S.D. GRADY

Published By Purple Sword Publications, LLC at Smashwords

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if any of these terms are used. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

Copyright © 2015 S. D. Grady

ISBN 978-1-61292-150-1

Edited by Traci Markou and Jessica Glanville

Cover Art Designed by Traci Markou

Images Copyright Traci Markou and Torky123RF.com

Dedication:

For all my friends at Essex Writers and Artisan Guild

You believed that pigs could fly.

Marvelous! Simply marvelous! You've outdone yourself Lady Victoria. Truly you have. We've never seen such a grand crush for the Harvest Ball before. Reverend Twitch bobbed up and down, holding his hat to his chest, even as a footman attempted to remove his coat.

Thank you ever so much, Reverend. Lady Victoria beamed about her. It was true. The Assembly Rooms in Barrow’s Heath were such you could barely move an inch. It was a tremendous accomplishment. She was absolutely certain her fiancé, Lord Attleby, would be suitably impressed. At least he had better be. If she was to be his countess, he should know she was capable of organizing such events at the drop of a hat.

The Reverend shuffled into the ballroom. A group of youngsters piled into the entry, handing off muffs and capes. Outside, beyond the soft yellow glow of candles, the white moon rose high and full, reflecting off the slow turn in the river across the road. A red mist clung to its banks. The final celebrants made their bows and nods to Victoria, laughing and asking for the punch bowl. She exhaled, her shoulders relaxed for a mere moment before she turned to tackle the daunting task of directing the festivities for the evening.

Music filled the air with country reels. Energetic villagers spun about, trying not to topple over some of the more elderly attendees. Leaves and cornstalks decorated the corners of the old, tired room, often matching the dull colors of the farm workers. It didn't matter if the only family of nobility attending was Victoria's. Not one little bit. Barrow’s Heath would be her home in just a few weeks, and she really ought to get down to the business of greeting all that lived in the tiny hamlet, and learning all its strange, little truths.

Jeffers, would you bring in the apple barrel, please?

Lord Attleby’s cherry-cheeked footman scurried off with a nod. Yes, it would be just fine. If