In the isolated coal mining town of Sulphur Creek in the late 1800s, young Sammy Murphy’s world is a blend of shadowy tunnels and unspoken secrets. Born into solitude and pushed into reclusion, Sammy’s quiet life starkly contrasts with the booming industry that surrounds him. But as he searches for connection in an era of ruthless expansion, he finds himself at odds with forces far greater than he imagined.

Enter Barry Bacon, an ambitious industrialist who fancies himself a peer to magnates like Andrew Carnegie. Driven by unbridled ambition, Bacon’s dreams stretch far beyond the soot-covered rooftops of Sulphur Creek. But as the weight of his empire bears down, his unchecked arrogance threatens to unravel everything he’s built.

As Sammy faces an unexpected awakening brought forth by a fleeting love, and Bacon’s empire teeters on the brink of collapse, both men must face truths that transcend time—true love extends beyond mere attraction and real power is more than forceful arrogance.

Set against the raw, unforgiving landscape of America’s industrial ascent, Ghost Town is a gripping novel of ambition, isolation, and the pursuit of connection. With richly drawn characters and a hauntingly relevant message, it echoes through history, exploring what it truly means to lead, to love, and to belong.

Excerpt

This excerpt is from Dr. James R. Gregory’s new novel, “Ghost Town.” Reprinted with permission of the author.

Chapter Six

The fact that Birdie and Kevin were attracted to each other didn’t mean Sammy was about to step aside. Sammy had no intention of letting Kevin cut in on the woman of his dreams. When Sammy stopped by the Crystal Saloon one afternoon and saw Birdie sitting alone at the bar, it was an opportunity for him to capture her attention. He did so by doing what the male of any species would do since the beginning of time—preen and plot, finally getting her interest by telling her things he probably shouldn’t.

Sammy slid onto the stool next to Birdie, “Ya haven’t seen me much in da evenings around town, have ya?” he asked.

Birdie tried to answer without showing interest as she turned slightly away. “I don’t recall looking for ya.”

Sammy leaned in toward Birdie. “Well, if ya been wondering what I’ve been up to, I now have my own house up in the mountains near the headwaters of Crystal Creek.”

That caught Birdie’s attention. She turned toward Sammy and raised her eyebrows, “Ya don’t say.”

“I’d like to show ya sometime if ya don’t believe me,” Sammy continued. “Would you like to see it?”

Birdie responded without committing, “How far is it?”

Now Sammy tried to close the deal. “It’s a little more than a mile up the mountain. It’ll be a lovely walk through the woods.”

O’Connor noticed the two having a conversation and placed an arm on the bar as if trying to separate Sammy and Birdie. “Good evening, Sammy. What’ll you be having to drink?”

“I’ll have a whiskey.” Sammy slapped a silver coin on the bar. Sammy had been rehearsing ordering a whiskey all afternoon and he pulled it off effectively.

“Sammy here’s been telling me he built a mansion on the mountaintop,” Birdie said, sensing O’Connor’s unease.

“Is that so?” O’Connor responded. “That must be where you disappear every night.”

Sammy became defensive. “Well, it’s no mansion; I can tell ya dat much, but yes, I’ve been living up dere for a couple of weeks.”

Birdie flashed her big blue eyes at O’Connor. “He invited me up to visit his mansion.”

Kevin raised one eyebrow and looked sternly at both. “Is that so?”

“Yer both, more dan welcome to visit,” Sammy said.

O’Connor, feeling manipulated, laughed, “No thanks. I have plenty to keep me busy right here. You kids have a splendid time,” O’Connor said condescendingly, trying to show nonchalance. “Mind the weather. It looks like a thunderstorm is building. Don’t forget to write.”

“We will indeed.” Birdie said as she stood to leave, miffed at O’Connor’s casual attitude. “Let’s go, Sammy.”

Sammy took his whiskey shot in one gulp, which nearly caused him to choke. He put the shot glass back on the bar and gave O’Connor a salute of triumph as he held out his arm for Birdie. And off they went.

The trek was challenging enough in work boots but nearly impossible in Birdie’s dress shoes. Sammy sensed the momentous thunderstorm building and hoped they would make it to the cabin and back before it struck.

For the first mile, Birdie didn’t say anything. She just followed Sammy and stewed on O’Connor’s nonchalant attitude toward her. The more she thought about it, the angrier she got, and that kept her mind off her feet. But then she asked how much further, and when Sammy replied, “We’re almost dere.” Sammy noticed that it dissipated her anger.

The sky had become a dark greenish-gray color that Sammy had never seen before. Lightening startled them as it splashed across the sky, followed by a simultaneous crack and thunder that rolled, echoing through the valley below.

“We best hurry,” Sammy said. “We’re in fer a gulley washer.” He reached for her hand, which she took, and they started running. They could finally see the cabin in the distance just as the first big drops of rain started, and then a torrent from a cloudburst descended upon them.

By the time they reached the cabin, the rain had soaked their skin. Sammy opened the door, and Birdie rushed in, trying to adjust her eyes to the darkness. Sammy lit an oil lamp, and she could finally see the inside of his modest cabin.

“You don’t have windows?” she asked.

For the first time, Sammy was ashamed of his humble home. “No, I have pushouts, like most of the town’s homes.” He then started the fire in the pot-belly stove, quickly warming the interior.

“I need to dry my dress and garments,” Birdie said, “I’m completely soaked and cold.”

“I’ve got some things ya can wear,” Sammy croaked.

“Not your mining clothes, I hope.” She chuckled.

They both laughed. Sammy gave her his best shirt. As she undressed, Sammy pretended to look away while he busied himself with putting up a clothesline across the room. He was pleased that she wasn’t shy about her nudity, but he tried not to give or get the wrong idea. Or, to give her the impression that he was desperately desperate to experience a woman.

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About the Author

Dr. James R. Gregory, a renowned business author and entrepreneur, co-founded a highly successful global brand management consulting firm in New York City alongside his wife, Evelyn Clyburne. Their 40-year journey in business culminated in the sale of their company in 2013. Post-retirement, Dr. Gregory’s unquenchable thirst for knowledge led him to earn a doctorate from the Muma College of Business at the University of South Florida.

Transitioning from business to literature, Dr. Gregory began writing a series of captivating novellas under the collection ‘Small Fortunes,’ which earned a place on Amazon’s bestseller charts. He followed this with his debut novel, Zephyr’s War, then Killer App, and now Ghost Town. Dr. Gregory is also a seasoned business author of several influential books on corporate branding, including Marketing Corporate Image, Leveraging the Corporate Brand, Branding Across Borders, The Best of Branding, and his most recent international bestseller, Powerhouse – The Secrets of Corporate Branding.

Residing in Bradenton, Florida, with his wife, Dr. Gregory is also a devoted family man. He enjoys spending quality time with his two grown children, Becky and Will, and pursuing hobbies like biking, playing tennis, and painting with his beloved grandchildren, Charlotte and Maxwell.