The Ballerina's Gift

By Rachelle M. N. Shaw

Marley Harcove wants nothing more than to inch her way up the social ladder and win over her three-year crush. But after her parents buy the infamously spooky Whitson house, she comes face-to-face with the rumors surrounding it—and one of its previous occupants.

When her rival, Alex Wingate, crashes her party, everything unravels. Marley needs a plan, and fast, especially after whispers of a missing girl spread and an anonymous gift turns up in her bedroom. But those are the least of her concerns. If rumors about the house are true, more than Marley's reputation might be at stake.

In the hair-raising sequel to The Eyes That Moved, more souls hang in the balance, leaving their captor with a burning vengeance to complete his collection.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachelle M. N. Shaw
• Release date: Jul 1, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370112302

Rachelle M. N. Shaw

An avid reader who has an incurable need to research everything she comes across, Rachelle is an author of paranormal and horror serials as well as the occasional women's fiction piece. Since scribbling down her first story at the age of eight, her love for language and books has blossomed into a full-time career. She currently works as an independent editor and author while being a stay-at-home mom to her children and two rather persnickety cats. When she’s not baking cupcakes or playing in the snow, you can catch her blogging, tweeting, or plotting her next series.

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The Ballerina’s Gift

Published by Rachelle M. N. Shaw at Smashwords

Copyrighted Material

Copyright © 2016 Rachelle M. N. Shaw

All rights reserved.

First published in the United States in 2016.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be reproduced, re-sold, or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Cover art and photo by Rachelle M. N. Shaw.

Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.

Acknowledgements

Writing this story has been a journey in and of itself. It’s taken hours of ripping my hair out, tweaking, polishing, more tweaking and polishing, and unending support from amazing people to whom I am very grateful.

To all my family and friends: the trials and countless errors I’ve endured while writing this piece have been worth it because of your encouragement. I couldn’t do this without you.

To my good friend and editor, Sarah Wright, who has proven to be a critical sounding board for my ideas: not only do you always give great feedback, but you also end up inspiring me to multiply my ideas. Thank you for listening to me babble and for weeding out the nonsense.

To MJ Meads: thank you for your unique perspective and honest feedback. You pushed me to make this piece that much better.

To my beta readers and everyone else who has given me your insight on this story: your time and comments have been a lifesaver, and it’s because of your input that this piece has grown. I can’t say thank you enough.

And lastly, to my readers, for whom this story was written: it’s because of your kind comments and support that this book, the second in a series, was born.

The Porcelain Souls – Part Two

The Ballerina’s Gift

Rachelle M. N. Shaw

Isn’t she a beauty? Marley Harcove’s dad asked, stopping short of the front step to the Whitson house. Of course, the Whitsons hadn’t held the deed to it since the late 1800s—but even after trading hands more than a dozen times, the house hadn’t been stripped of its namesake.

Marley grimaced and shifted her backpack to the other shoulder. Five months since they’d closed on it, and he was still trying to sell her on the dilapidated nightmare. Just like an over-amped car salesman that had drunk way too much coffee.

Give it a rest, Dad.

I know it still needs a bit of work, he said, waving a hand at the three-story Victorian monstrosity and digging through the contents of his pocket with the other. But underneath all those layers of paint lies a goldmine.

Her mom sped up the walkway, groceries in hand, and joined them, but Marley wrinkled her nose at the hideous shutters lining the front. She still wasn’t used to its squeaky floorboards, cold drafts, and typical quirks old houses harbored. Dad, sorry to break your heart, but it’s no goldmine. There’s a reason no one wanted to buy this place but you. Heck, the doorknobs are probably older than you are.

He ran his finger along the rust-coated ornate handle that adorned the front door and complemented the cracked lion knocker that sat above it. But even the crummy mailbox mounted beside the front door begged to be put out of its misery. The fixture clung to the siding by a single screw, and a faded white K had been spray-painted over its numbers.

Oh, give it more time, sweetie! It has so much potential! he said, holding back the dense shrubs on either side of the entrance while producing the key from his pocket and shoving it into the lock.

Marley sighed and brushed past him, opening the door.

Your father has a point, you know, her mother piped in, tapping her foot on the crumbling cement step and admiring the house’s numerous windows.

Whatever! Marley trudged through the foyer and up the stairs, leaving her parents to pine over the