Hello Frans, It's been quite a while since I've written on this blog. I've been busy writing, though. Since January I've been fast at work on the fourth and final book in the
Falling Angels Saga. This last book is a real doozie. In it I bring back characters from all the earlier books.
Because I've been so immersed I have no new advice for indie authors at this time. Still, I have a little Easter/Passover/Spring Break gift for those of you who're fans of the series--a little taste of the next book in the series, the one I'm currently working on. This'll be the first time I've shared a WIP on this blog, but I'm so pleased with my progress I couldn't wait for you to have a look. It's totally unedited, which I hear is part of the charm. This is not the opening of the book, it's something I plucked from around page 150. Even if you haven't read the earlier books, there are no real spoilers here, just a teaser of what's to come.
Speaking of the earlier books,
Heaven Sent has garnered some fine reviews on Amazon. All five stars. If you haven't read
Boyfriend From Hell or
Earth Angel, perhaps a peek at these reviews might peak you're interest:
Heaven Sent Reviews. I sure hope so. And as an added treat for those of you new to my Best Selling series, click on the red link for a freebie (Pdf)
Boyfriend From Hell sample:
And now the excerpt. Enjoy!
Untitled Falling Angels Saga Excerpt
It was an old house in
an even older East Phoenix neighborhood. An ancient Nisan Maxima sat in the
driveway. I recalled being in Monsieur
Perez’s car the night he’d driven me to Tavares castle. Although the car was old, it gleamed like a
highly polished jewel in the sunlight. It
had been treated with love. I smiled
inwardly as we moved up the gravel path to the house. Monsieur Perez appreciated vintage things
just as much as Aunt Jaz. Perhaps this
was part of their initial attraction.
Seeing the car brought
back memories of the hot summer night we retrieved Erin from the grip of Danny
Tambor and the Satanists. No smile crossed my lips when I
thought of what we’d accomplished that night.
It was also the night I unleashed my powers onto the world, the night I
reached the so called tipping point.
He came to the door
wearing a white cotton shirt and a maroon bow tie that brought to mind a
gentleman of a bygone era. He and Aunt
Jaz could have made quite the pair in their vintage gear.
“You look lovely,
Jasmine,” Monsieur Perez said in his sexy mellifluous voice. His sexiness seemed to have no effect on Aunt
Jaz who was all business in a charcoal suit, the a skirt falling just below her
knees, and a mint green top. No hug, no
laughter, no peck on the cheek for Monsieur Perez.
“Thank you, Hector,”
she said in flat tone as he ushered us in.
His eyes moved to me.
They were glowing with pride. “Megan
Barnett. You have single-handedly set
the occult community on its ear, young lady.
It’s good to see you again.” His
smile was warm and friendly, yet it made me feel creepy all the same, as if
bugs were crawling up and down my back.
“Hi,” I said, trying to
sound as if I was happy to see him again.
The house was small but
cozy. A tiny alcove opened into a quaint
living room where a ceiling fan circled slowly overhead, keeping the tiny room
from getting too stuffy in the Arizona heat.
“Gita, bring the tea,”
Monsieur Perez called in a haughty tone.
“Please, sit,” he said, gesturing toward the old sofa. “We’ll have tea and biscuits.” He was smiling
at Aunt Jaz. She pretended not to
notice. “Nothing as elaborate as your
pineapple upside down cake, I’m afraid, Jasmine dear. But it will do.”
“Thank you for seeing
us on such short notice.” Like a fish
who’d gorged herself on grubs all day, Aunt Jaz refused to rise to his charming
bait.
“But of course. Anything for you, Jasmine.” He was looking at her like a little puppy dog craving
his master’s attention. I was starting
to feel sorry for the old guy.
“Good,” she said. “If we could dispense with the small talk,
you know why we’re here.” It was so
unlike Aunt Jaz to not be sweet and cordial.
Their breakup must have been quite hard on her. She refused to allow even a ray of kindness to
crack her leaden exterior.
“Yes, of course.” Monsieur Perez moved across the room and
plucked an envelope from the mantel. “I have no idea what Dagenhart is up to,
so I can’t help along those lines.” His
eyes moved to me. “However, the concave is being held at Dagenhart castle,
formerly Tavares castle, tomorrow night at
sundown. This will get you in.” He held the envelope by the corner and fanned
it through the air like a Polaroid picture.
The tea kettle in the
kitchen began to whistle.
“There’s no way I’d
allow Megan to return to that hellish place,” said Aunt Jaz. She waved her hand at him, a dismissive
gesture.
“Then who?” He was smiling. It was the smile of a poker player laying
down a winning hand. “The only way
you’ll know what their up to for sure is if someone attends. You can’t go, you might be recognized. You wouldn’t send your precious niece.” He lay on the word precious making it clear what he thought of Maudrina. “If the angel goes, he will certainly set off
all kinds of alarms. I’m sure Dagenhart has
cloaked the castle with a shield of formidable dark magic.” His gaze moved back to me. “Only you, Megan. You are more powerful than they are. They need to know this,” he said, his voice
rising. “They need to fear your
power. The world needs to know it was
you who performed miracles at that travesty of a wedding.”
“Stop it!” Aunt Jaz
said, rising to her feet. “Hector,
you’re a fool.”
The tea kettle
continued to whistle. “Gita! The kettle!” Monsieur Perez called.
“I suppose when they
discover Megan is at the concave, and I’m sure they’ll discover her, she’ll
have to use her abilities to get out,” Aunt Jaz continued.
“Would that be so
bad? The Satanists need to know we have
a powerful weapon against them.”
Aunt Jaz smirked. “Don’t you mean, you have a powerful weapon against them? I’m sure you’ll have enough spotters there to
vindicate yourself.” Aunt Jaz’s words
were a furious assault.
“I should be the one to
lead our community. You know that
Jasmine.” His furry eyebrows twitched with rage.
This was yet another
play for power. Monsieur Perez had tried
to use me to gain control of the local occult community last summer. But his plan backfired at
Erin’s wedding. No one knew I was there,
so they didn’t believe when he said it was me who had caused all the damage
that night.
“They need to know
about you,” he said, his eyes entreating me.
“You can still be the darling of the occult community.” He took a step toward me and I flinched. He really was creeping me out.
“Megan let’s go,” said,
Aunt Jaz. “I was wrong to come
here.” Without waiting for my response,
she started for the door.
“Jasmine, please!”
Monsieur Perez called. His mellifluous
voice had turned whiny and pathetic. She
brushed past him on her way out. “I miss
you,” he called, inhaling her fragrance as she went by. “Don’t you miss me?”
Aunt Jaz stopped
abruptly. She turned. Hope blossomed on Monsieur Perez’s face, thinking
his words had chinked her armor.
“Something’s wrong,”
she said in a dark tone. Caution showed
in her eyes as she surveyed the room. “I
can feel it.” We both looked at her. I
could feel it, too. There was eeriness
in the air accented by the whooshing of the ceiling fan along with the whistling
of the tea kettle in the kitchen.
As if we were in a
cheesy horror flick, our eyes all moved in the direction of the kitchen. The whistling pierced the silence. It was high-pitched and insistent. The creepy feeling I had earlier returned.
“Gita?” Monsieur Perez
said softly, his eyes widening. “GITA!”
he screamed. It was an ominous sound,
filled with fear and anguish. He dropped
the envelope and dashed from the room and down the corridor.
“Do not follow!” Aunt
Jaz commanded, holding one finger in the air, her eyes blazing at me. “If you don’t hear me call out to you in
sixty seconds, run and bring the police!”
“But—”
“Now is not the time
for questions, deary. Now is the time to
obey without hesitation.” With these
words, Aunt Jaz hustled down the hall after Monsieur Perez.
___
