Author: Barry Eva (aka Storyheart)
Title: Across the Pond
Paperback: 120 pages
Publisher: Xlibris (October 2008)
Genre: Young Adult Romance
First Sentence: “Burrdonk! The wheels locked as the plane descended toward the airport.”
Born in Barnet, Hertfordshire, Barry Eva, also known as “Storyheart,” left his beloved England in 2000, moving to the USA to be with the woman he’d met and fallen in love with on the Internet.
Better known for his short romance stories on the net and in his book “Stories from the Heart”.Barry is popular for narrating his stories on local TV or as a guest on other media stations,where his whit, oratory, and old-fashioned English charm make him a popular interviewee.
At present, Barry is living in Connecticut, with his wife and two children.
You can visit Storyheart’s website at http://www.across-t-pond.com.
Finding himself packed off to friends in the USA, fifteen-year-old English born Fred Squire is not happy. Then he meets Brittany.
Struggling with his feelings for Brit and the language, Fred is further confused when he meets Brit’s flirtatious friend, Angel.
Escaping from a confrontation with Steve Harris, the neighborhood bully, Brit tells Fred her dark secret about Harris, and Fred’s world is turned upside down.
Life continues to throw Fred a curveball when he catches a baseball worth a small fortune. Further run-ins with Harris, a crazy family BBQ, and a chase through a mall all add to Fred’s American adventure.
“Brit and her Brit”, know that their young love will be followed by heartache when Fred has to return to England. But not before some final twists in the tale.
With believable characters, exciting events, humor, first love, education and a little sport thrown in for good measure. Across the Pond is read and enjoyed by people of all ages from the young to the young at heart.
Soon they were out of the airport and in the car park, or “parking lot” as Phil called it. They stopped at a very large car, or at least large compared to the ones Fred was used to.
“I’ll help you put the luggage into the boot.” Fred said.
Brit looked at Fred, her nose wrinkling in a quizzical manner, “The what?”
Phil laughed, “Fred means the ‘trunk’, it’s called the boot in England. Your Dad e-mailed me about some sort of school project you have to work on while you’re here Fred, about the differences in the languages, right?”
“Yeah,” Fred said with a grimace. “I don’t want to do it, but a new X-Box is the bait for me to do a good report.”
Brit rolled her eyes again, something Fred found quite attractive about Brit. That, and the way she wrinkled her nose.
“A school project?”
“That’s what my teacher said, anyway,” Fred gasped as he struggled with his suitcase. “Gotta make a list of all the words I find that are different in this country.” He kicked an imaginary stone. “Of course my parents thought it a great idea… Some holiday!”
Fred got into the car and sat next to Brit, feeling a little self-conscious about being so close to her, hoping he didn’t smell too bad after his travels. He felt very tired as the jet lag of the journey started to wash over him. Yawning, he struggled to remove a notebook from his pocket.
“Here, sleepy head, let me,” said Brit taking the book from Fred, who was too tired to complain. “No time like the present to start your list. What have we got so far?”
Carefully she drew a line down the center of the page and wrote.
ENGLISH – BOOT AMERICAN -TRUNK
ENGLISH – CAR PARK AMERICAN – PARKING LOT
Phil never seemed to stop talking during to drive home. Soon the endless chatter and journey had Fred’s eyes almost closed. Suddenly Brit jabbed her elbow into Fred’s ribs, making him jolt awake.
“What the… Err… Pardon…” Fred said trying to come to.
Phil laughed, “Okay Fred, I guess you really must be tired after your long trip. And of course your body clock is still working on English time. I just asked if you found it funny driving on the right hand side of the road.”
“Nahh.” Fred said trying to wake up. “We’ve driven in Europe loads of times, and they all drive on the right.” Suddenly he grabbed the seat “Bloody Hell!”
Phil stopped the car and looked round.
“Are you all right?” Brit asked.
“Err, sorry” Fred replied sheepishly. “But, you just drove through a red light.”
Phil laughed and started the car up again. “It’s okay Fred, in the U.S. unless is says not to, you can turn right at a red stop light, or traffic light as you call them.”
“Sheeesh,” Fred said. “My parents have enough trouble with round-a-bouts in France; they’d have a conniption with people driving through red lights.
Brit sighed. “Okay Fred, what the heck has a round-a-bout to do with driving, I thought it was like a merry-go-round?”
Phil let out another of his “told you so” chuckles. “Brit, we call them rotary’s over here. That will be another couple of words for Fred to put in his book.”
The teenagers looked at each other and smiled.
At that moment they passed a group of boys standing at the side of the road. Brit’s smile faded from her face and she shrank down in her seat in an effort not to be seen.
It was a tired and slightly puzzled Fred who fell into bed a short time later.
A strange country, where people drive through red lights and half the language is different. A girl who can make me smile just by rolling her eyes. And what is it with Brit and that group of boys?
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