NOT AN ANGEL
By Dawn Chartier
Kira McCoy wants to die. Losing her husband and daughter tragically left her without hope. Now her disturbed brother-in-law will stop at nothing to have her for himself. All she wants is to find peace, but instead finds herself on top of a bridge ready to end her suffering.
Protector of the Poryria, Trace Stuart is called to defend his race or embrace death. Defending humans is not part of the plan, but he cannot stop himself from saving Kira.
Realizing that he shares a special bond with Kira, Trace defies his Queen and rushes into the heart of darkness in order to rescue the woman he loves. Will Kira be able to reach past her own pain to pull them both into the light?
EXCERPT:
As he measured her, his gaze warmed the consuming chill that had invaded her body. She glanced down, holding the material out. Nothing she could ever afford. Standing next to him in his stunning black suit, gave her more confidence than if she wore plain clothing.
“I wouldn’t have picked it out for myself, but you have good taste.”
“I know.” Trace’s gaze traveled down her torso, to her exposed toes and slowly up to her face. “And you take my breath away.” He kissed the inside of her wrist.
“I wouldn’t have picked it out for myself, but you have good taste.”
“I know.” Trace’s gaze traveled down her torso, to her exposed toes and slowly up to her face. “And you take my breath away.” He kissed the inside of her wrist.
Heat shot up her inner arm overpowering any nervousness she may have felt earlier. She leaned into him and whispered, “You breathe?”
Trace half smiled. “Sometimes.”
She blinked. “Oh.” That meant sometimes he didn’t breathe either.
Trace stiffened, then glanced toward the entrance flanked with four massive columns. It took a moment before she heard footsteps in the foyer. Five men entered the parlor. All dressed similar to Trace, except their cold penetrating eyes made her worry. Scared was more like it. One man strode toward her, eyes narrowed, mouth pulled down in a frown. She swallowed, then took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. They will not get to me. I will be strong.
“He won’t hurt you. Will you, Dev?” Trace stepped forward and crossed his arms.
Dev smirked and stared through his long dark lashes. “Depends.”
An eerie rumble vibrated the room. Kira advanced toward Trace. The sound of a wild cat drifted in the air. She tilted her head, glanced at Trace and realized the noise came from him.
“Boys. Boys. Boys. Dev won’t touch her, but I might.” A slender brunette appeared out of thin air and stood directly in front of the other men. Oh hell.
Dawn Chartier never knew she wanted to be a writer while growing up. Sure her parents owned a book shop, and she was surrounded by bookworms, but she wasn’t one of “those” writers who started early. No, Dawn was inspired by strange events in her life, one was a bitch named, Katrina. Yes, that hur-ricane. But a few months before the storm, Dawn read an article on Marie Laveau in the New Orleans local newspaper and it sparked an idea. She began researching the voodoo priestess, and then Katrina hit. Out of destruction, ideas formed, characters spoke and plots twisted. One thing lead to another and an author was born. (Must have been something in the air, because a few authors were born out of Katrina’s wrath.)
Dawn Chartier sold her first paranormal romance book, (Not An Angel) to The Wild Rose Press, and her second book, a contemporary erotic romance (Diamonds) to Siren BookStrand. Dawn is a member of RWA, Sola-Writers, FF&P and Savvy Authors. You can find her chatting on Twitter and Facebook when she’s not buried inside of a book or writing her next one.
Dawn lives near New Orleans with her husband, two daughters, two golden retrievers, and plenty of wildlife.
http://www.dawnchartier.com
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