New Adult Paranormal Romance ** Mature Content ** Recommended for ages 16+ due to sexual situations and language
Alexis Ames has a life full of promise...but not all promises can be kept.
When Alexis Ames is attacked by creatures that can't be real, she decides it's time she learns who she really is, with or without the help of her mother, who guards their family's secrets closely. After meeting the inhumanly attractive, multi-talented Tristan Knight, however, Alexis retreats behind her façade of normalcy...until she discovers he's not exactly normal either. Then their secrets begin to unravel.
Their union brings hope and promise to her family's secret society, the Angels' army, and to the future of mankind. But it also incites a dangerous pursuit by the enemy - Satan's minions and Tristan's creators. After all, Alexis and Tristan are a match made in Heaven and in Hell.
1st Place - 2010 Royal Palm Literary Award - Fantasy (Published) by Florida Writers Association
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Excerpt from Promise:
“Penny
for your thoughts?” Tristan asked, breaking the silence as we crossed the
boardwalk accessing the beach.
“Hmph.
They’re worth more than that,” I teased.
He
chuckled. “Okay, a Benji for your thoughts?”
“Huh?”
He
pulled a one-hundred-dollar bill from his pocket. I raised my eyebrows and he
put it away, laughing. “You’re right. Your
thoughts are priceless.”
We walked
to the edge of the water, kicked off our shoes, and then turned and meandered
along the wet sand. It gave me a chance to edit my thoughts before sharing
them.
“I
wouldn’t go that far,” I finally
said, “but . . . I was just thinking that we’ve been hanging out for a couple
months now, and I hardly know anything about you.”
“Ah.
What do you want to know?” He peered down at me from the corner of his eye,
seemingly hesitant—like I felt when someone asked about me.
“Um, well, where are you from?” That was an
easy one, especially in Florida. Hardly anyone was from here.
He
was silent for a moment, as if it was difficult to answer, and then said
cryptically, “Lots of places . . . nowhere in particular.”
I
could relate to that. It could be my own answer.
“So
. . . you moved around a lot?”
He
shrugged. “You could put it that way.”
“What
do your parents do?”
“They
don’t do anything. They died a long time ago.”
“Oh.”
Oops. I didn’t know I was headed into
heavy stuff. “I’m sorry.”
He
looked down at me and smiled gently. “You didn’t know. I hardly remember them
anyway. It was a long time ago. I was raised by . . . distant relatives, I
guess you could say.”
“Did
they bring you here?”
“Oh,
no, I came here alone.” There was that steely undertone again. “I’ve been on my
own for quite a while.”
More
silence as I thought for a minute. I remembered what he’d told Mom . . . he’d
never gone back and he never will. How awful it must be to lose his parents and
then to have to live with what must have been dreadful relatives, people like
Lenny. My theory must have been true. I decided to leave that subject alone.
“So where were these ‘lots of places’ you grew
up?”
“Pretty
much everywhere, but mostly Europe.”
“Really?” That one surprised me. “But you
don’t have any kind of accent.”
He
chuckled.
“I’ve
been in the U.S. for a few years and I adapt easily and pick up the local
accent quickly.” He changed his tone and spoke with a perfect English cadence,
“Would you rahther I hahd an ahccent?” Then he switched to French, rolling the R’s, “Or,
pear’aps Francais eez better, ma lykita?”
I
laughed. Although I couldn’t understand it all, the French accent was
especially delightful with his lovely voice.
“Do
you speak other languages, then?”
“Seven
altogether.”
“Wow,”
I breathed with awe. I tried to imagine growing up in Europe, living as
transient a life as we had, but in places such as London, Rome and Paris. I probably
glamorized it, but it seemed much more exciting than my life.
“If
you came here by yourself, what brought you here?”
He
didn’t answer at first and kicked at a wave. Then he shrugged and said, “Just
needed a change.”
“Oh.”
That was a non-answer.
He
looked down at me. “Actually, I want to be honest with you. I came here for a
job . . . or an assignment is more like it . . . and stayed because I like the
people.”
“Oh,
okay.” I hadn’t realized he had a job. I started wondering what he did besides a
couple college classes. He had mentioned once he had lots of other things going
on in his life, but he never talked about anything.
“But
if I told you any more, I’d have to kill you.” His tone was serious and I
looked up in surprise. He laughed.
“Oh,
I see. CIA or FBI?” I played along, remembering the old secret-agent movies Mom
liked to watch. “Oh, wait, probably Scotland Yard. Or maybe the KGB?” I widened
my eyes in mock horror.
He
laughed again. “You’re way off.”
“I’ll
figure it out,” I promised lightheartedly.
He
frowned and his tone darkened. “Yes, I’m sure you will. Some day.”
“Would
that be bad?”
The
frown quickly disappeared, as if he hadn’t realized it was there until I said
that. He peered down at me as we walked a few steps in silence. “I don’t know
yet.”
Honesty
and seriousness filled his tone . . . and a bit of sadness. I sighed in
frustration. He raised more questions than he answered.
“Something
wrong?” he asked.
I
wanted to tell him how annoyingly cryptic he was. But I didn’t. Because he
could always turn that back at me.
“No,
I guess not.”
“We
better turn around,” he said.
I
looked behind us and saw we had walked much farther than I realized. We played
in the water on the way back, kicking it up at each other and running away from
the splashes, then he took my hand and pulled me to dry sand, where we sat to
watch the sunset. We gazed in silence, both in the same position—knees pulled
up, arms wrapped around our legs. I rested my chin on my knees.
God
displayed His divine artistic ability, painting the sky with brushstrokes of
dark violet, lavender, magenta and soft pink against a light blue canvas, with
a bright splash of gold at the horizon reflecting on the water. Waves gently
lapped at the sand and seagulls cawed at each other. I inhaled deeply, trying to pull it all into
my body and embed it in my memory as one of those perfect moments to be
cherished forever. The brackishness of salt water and the sweet-tanginess of
Tristan’s scent nearly intoxicated me.
I turned and Tristan cocked his head to look at
me, his beautiful eyes sparkling, immediately calming me. In fact, I’d never
felt so content. His conversation with my mom seemed vague and nonsensical now.
He was right. She needed to let go. Because I wanted to be nowhere else than
right here with him.
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