Title: Evanthia’s Gift
Author: Effie Kammenou
Pages: 548
Genre: Women’s Fiction/Contemporary Romance
A LOVE STORY SPANNING DECADES – DEEPENED BY TRADITION, HERITAGE, LOSS, STRUGGLE, PERSEVERANCE AND LOYALTY.
In the year 1956, Anastacia Fotopoulos finds herself pregnant and betrayed, fleeing from a bad marriage. With the love and support of her dear friends Stavros and Soula Papadakis, Ana is able to face the challenges of single motherhood. Left with emotional wounds, she resists her growing affection for Alexandros Giannakos, an old acquaintance. But his persistence and unconditional love for Ana and her child is eventually rewarded and his love is returned. In a misguided, but well-intentioned effort to protect the ones they love, both Ana and Alex keep secrets – ones that could threaten the delicate balance of their family.
The story continues in the 1970’s as Dean and Demi Papadakis, and Sophia Giannakos attempt to negotiate between two cultures. Now Greek-American teenagers, Sophia and Dean, who have shared a special connection since childhood, become lovers. Sophia is shattered when Dean rebels against the pressure his father places on him to uphold his Greek heritage and hides his feelings for her. When he pulls away from his family, culture and ultimately his love for her, Sophia is left with no choice but to find a life different from the one she’d hoped for.
EVANTHIA’S GIFT is a multigenerational love story spanning fifty years and crossing two continents, chronicling the lives that unify two families.
Praise for EVANTHIA’S GIFT:
Magnificent 5 Stars
Exceptional, outstanding and award worthy were the first words that popped into my
mind after I finished reading this book. A surface description of this story could be easily
stated by saying; it’s a 50 year generational Greek family saga that’s filled with multiple
love stories, devastating betrayals and heart breaking secrets. That depiction alone would
be enough for anyone to be drawn to this book. But the essence of “Evanthia’s Gift” is
held within each character created in this masterpiece; that is the true heart and soul of
this book. I could feel the struggles within each to come to terms with their past mistakes,
recognizing their self-worth, all the while staying steadfast to their beliefs and for some,
finding inner peace. I started reading this book late one evening with the intent of reading
a few chapters and then going to bed. I found myself incapable of putting the book
down… several hours later I was wiping away the tears to get through the last chapter.
This superbly written emotional story comes full circle in the end, which reminds us all
just how precious love and family really is.
–Stephanie Lasley, from The Kindle Book Review
For More Information
Evanthia’s Gift is available at Amazon.
Pick up your copy at Barnes & Noble.
Discuss this book at PUYB Virtual Book Club at Goodreads.
About the Author
Effie Kammenou is a first generation Greek-American who lives on Long Island with her
husband and two daughters. When she’s not writing, or posting recipes on her food blog,
cheffieskitchen.wordpress.com, you can find her cooking for her family and friends.
Her debut novel, EVANTHIA’S GIFT, is a women’s fiction multigenerational love story
and family saga, influenced by her Greek heritage, and the many real life accounts that
have been passed down. She continues to pick her father’s brain for stories of his family’s
life in Lesvos, Greece, and their journey to America. Her recent interview with him was
published in a nationally circulated magazine.
As an avid cook and baker, a skill she learned from watching her Athenian mother, she
incorporated traditional Greek family recipes throughout the book.
She holds a Bachelor’s Degree in Theater Arts from Hofstra University.
For updates on the release of Book Two of The Gift Saga
Follow Effie on Twitter @EffieKammenou,
www.facebook.com/EffieKammenou.
Contact Effie at effiekammenou@gmail.com
For More Information
Connect with Effie on Facebook and Twitter.
Find out more about Effie at Goodreads.
Book Excerpt:
The air was unusually chilled for early November in NYC, but despite the dropping
temperature, sweat trickled down the back of Anastacia’s neck. Unable to wish away the
nausea that was taking hold of her and too ill to sit through her last class, she’d left the
NYU campus, hopping on an uptown subway to return home for the day. She’d been
lightheaded and queasy the past few days, but nothing as violent as what she was
currently feeling. Waiting at the crosswalk, the aroma of garlic and cheese permeating
from a nearby café antagonized the volcano that was about to erupt in her belly, and she
prayed she would get home without incident.
At last, Anastacia ducked into her apartment building, closing her eyes, and offering a
silent thank you to the heavens for the safety and comfort of her home. Once inside her
foyer, she removed her coat, hung it in the closet and glimpsed herself in the mirror
hanging over the Bombay Chest. Pale skin and sunken eyes replaced her usual olive
complexion and healthy glow.
I just need to sleep off whatever this is.
Her husband, Jimmy, was not expected home from work for several hours, and she hoped
to be feeling better by then.
Suddenly, the sound of voices startled her. She walked through the living room,
following the noise. She almost forgot the motion sickness that forced her home earlier
than usual as the guttural sound of rhythmic moans grew louder, interrupted only by a
woman’s shrill laughter. Anastacia forced her legs to follow the cacophony and found
herself at the doorway of her bedroom. She stood there frozen. Seeing, but not believing.
Tears sprang to her eyes and dripped down her cheeks, and she began to shake
uncontrollably. Anastacia attempted to speak, but bile rose to her throat, rendering her
incapable of uttering a word. Then, a cry that seemed to escape from her very soul,
revealed her presence.
In that second, they knew she’d witnessed their betrayal. Anastacia was taken aback by
the look of pure satisfaction that flashed across the naked woman’s face. A face that held
not even a hint of guilt or remorse.
Her husband’s face told a different story. Shock, fear, maybe regret. For getting caught. It
couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, but so many thoughts bombarded her mind
that it was as though she were moving in slow motion. But then, the impact of it all
slammed into her, and she ran.
Jimmy jumped up, wrapping himself in a bed sheet.
“Ana! Wait!” He pushed the woman off him. “Get off me! Move! Get out of here.”
Barely making it to the bathroom, Anastacia leaned over the toilet, expelling the contents
of her stomach.
“Ana,” Jimmy pleaded, coming up beside her.
“Get away from me.” She wiped her mouth with a towel, straightened up and gathered all
her strength to push past him.
Jimmy blocked the doorway.
“Ana mou, I’m sorry. Please. Let me explain. Sagapo. I love-”
“Don’t touch me or ever say that to me. You’re disgusting. You both are.” She ducked
under his arm, but he grabbed her wrist.
His touch seared her to the bone and she pulled away. She was shamed, shaken—broken,
but there was no way she was going to let him see it.
“I said don’t touch me. Never come near me again.”
“It’s not what it looks like. She… it was all her. I never meant to… Ana, please.”
“It looked like it was both of you. Now let me pass,” she spat. He lifted his hands in
surrender and stepped aside as she pushed her way past him through the narrow bathroom
doorway.
In the hallway, the woman stood, watching, gloating. Although she and Anastacia both
had dark brown hair and similar Mediterranean features, she lacked the poise and grace
that Anastacia exuded.
“Get out of my home,” Ana ordered her. “I never want to see you again.” Anastacia
stormed out her front door, slamming it behind her. Doubling over, she thought she might
heave again, but she drew in a deep breath and continued down the hall to Soula’s
apartment. She frantically knocked on the door. When she opened it, Soula took one look
at her best friend and she hugged her.
“Ana mou, what is it?
Between gasps and cries, Anastacia relayed the entire humiliating scene, as well as
Jimmy’s despicable attempt to explain the unforgivable.
“What do I do now?”
“We go upstairs and talk to your uncle,” Soula said. “He will know how to handle this.”
“How can I tell him? What will my parents say? How could I be so stupid? What will
Uncle Tasso think?”
“Of you? Nothing different than before. Of them? They will get what they deserve.
Come. We will go together. I will tell your uncle if you cannot.”