“I want to know what you meant when you claimed you watched over me during my life.”
Again something flickered in her eyes. “Perhaps we can discuss that when we have more time. Right now there are more pressing matters to deal with.”
“Such as?”
“Well, to begin with, our living arrangements. Since part of my agreement with the Council is that we remain in London for at least six months, I think renting a house is our best option. As this is the off season, I’m sure we’ll be able to find something acceptable. I’d like something on the lake. Is that all right with you?”
And there I stood, speechless once again. Really, her ability to rob me of words was becoming a most vexing habit. I cleared my throat. “Have you been hit on the head with a rock? What the bloody hell are you talking about? Why would we require a house? Indeed, why would we require anything? There is no we. There is you. And there is me. Completely separate. Now, if you would tell me where I am to exist-- ”
“I just told you, Lord Ryland. Has your hearing become afflicted? Were you hit on the ear with a rock?”
God, I wished I had a rock. So I could use it to bludgeon myself unconscious so I wouldn’t have to converse with this exasperating woman any longer. “Of course not-- ”
“Then please put the modicum of intelligence you’ve assured me you possess to use and listen so that I may fully explain your new circumstances. Can you do that?”
As a rock had not magically appeared in my hand, I gave a terse nod. “Yes. But in my defense, it cannot be a shock that I’d wonder why an angel would require a house.”
She blinked. “An angel? But… ” A look of unmistakable consternation passed over her features. “Oh, dear. I just assumed you knew. That you understood.”
“Understood what?” I shouted.
She squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Lord Ryland. Given that you were aware you’d forfeit all claims to Heaven by using your Crisis Clause to save a human life, I assumed you were also aware that by doing so you gave up your existence in the spiritual realm. At least temporarily-- until you die again.”
“Die again? What the devil does that mean?”
“It means you are human. And will live a human life. Until you die as all humans do. How you choose to live that life will determine whether or not you go to Heaven when you expire.”
This time I was so speechless my jaw dropped open. Had it not been attached to my face, my chin would have hit the ground. “Human? I’m… alive?”
“Yes.”
I looked down at myself. Wiggled my toes inside my boots. Spread my arms. Stared at my hands as if I’d never seen them before. Then I looked at her. “I’m human,” I repeated slowly, needing to make sure that me and my modicum of intelligence really, really understood.
“Yes.”
I pointed toward the police and firemen at the accident scene. “Just like those people over there?”
“Yes.”
Alive. A sound of disbelief escaped me. It didn’t seem possible. Another life. To live in this modern, technologically based world that was so completely different than what I’d previously known. An overwhelming sense of wonder and anticipation, coupled with a healthy dose of trepidation filled me. So much to do, so much to see and experience. My head spun. This was a great deal to absorb.
“Just like those people,” Director Foscari said, “except you’ve carried over some powers from the spiritual world that they of course do not possess.”
“What kind of powers?” I instantly wondered if I could leap tall buildings with a single bound.
“I’m not precisely certain as each carry-over case differs, but nothing of a superhero nature.”
Suspicion immediately slithered through me. The fact that her words so closely mirrored my thought… had she read my mind? It wasn’t the first time I’d wondered if she’d done so. It suddenly occurred to me that there was a great deal I didn’t know about Alessandra Foscari.
Before I could ponder the matter further, she continued, “There are tests I can perform to determine precisely what powers you possess. I’ll do so once we are settled.”
My brows collapsed in a frown. “There you go with that we again. There’s no need for you to remain. I can handle things from here.”
“I sincerely doubt it as you have no money, no identification, no lodgings and no means to procure any of those things. Like it or not, you require assistance. And even if you didn’t, you have no choice in the matter. I am to stay with you.”
“Says who?”
“The Council.”
“Another condition for my chance at Heaven?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“How long do you have to stay?”
“Until the Council decrees that you no longer need looking after. But definitely for the six months we’re to remain in London.”
“So you’re here to spy on me.” The bitter words spit out of me.
“No. I’m here to help you.”
“And spy on me.” I suddenly recalled the odd heat I’d felt emanating from her. “Are you human as well?”
“I’m now a Halfling-- half human, half angel, a temporary status Directors are granted whenever one of our angels crosses over to the physical realm, as you have done. It enables me to move freely between both realms so I can watch over you then report my findings to the Council.”
“Just so we’re clear: watching what I do then reporting my movements to the Council? You can hang any euphemism you want on it, but that’s spying.” I dragged my hands down my face. Bloody hell, I was tired-- an all too human feeling I’d completely forgotten about. “So I’m stuck with you.”
“Not the most flattering way to put it-- ”
“I was not attempting to be complimentary.”
“Then in that case, yes. You are stuck with me. As I am with you. So we might as well get on with things. As I mentioned, I think renting a house is our best option.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at her. “We are not going to reside in the same house. You’ll have to spy on me from some other location.”
“Yes, we are going to reside in the same house,” she said in a tone normally reserved for dealing with recalcitrant children. “By Direct Order from the Council. Neither of us has any choice in the matter.” She regarded me through dispassionate sea-green eyes. “If your colossal ego is in any way suggesting to you that I’m delighted at the prospect of spending the next six months-- at least-- living with a grumpy, ill-mannered lout such as yourself, please allow me to disabuse you of that notion. You, Lord Ryland, are no picnic in the park.”
I huffed out a humorless sound. “You say that as if you are.”
“At least I try to view the world from a ‘the glass is half full’ perspective. You, on the other hand, possess a woefully ‘glass is half empty’ personality.”
“Bollocks. In fact, right now my fondest wish is for a glass half full. Of brandy.”
Disapproval was written all over her face. “Drinking will not help set your new life on the right path.”
“Perhaps not, but it will make living with you more bearable. All I can say is it better be a damn big house. Which begs the question-- do you possess the funds and credentials necessary to procure lodgings? Because, as you’ve pointed out, I do not.”
“I have everything we need.”
There was that damn we again.
She stepped forward and touched my hand. “Do not worry, Lord Ryland. I’ll take care of everything.”
Heat sizzled up my arm. My gaze shot to where her hand lightly clasped mine. The sight, the feel of her pale skin against mine flooded me with memories of my previous life. Of what being touched by a woman felt like. And even though she was barely touching me, even though the touch was clearly innocent in nature, it flooded me with a desire and lust so raw, so powerful my entire body shuddered.
I snatched my hand away as if she’d scorched me and took a hasty step back. Our gazes met and
my gut tightened with dread. Damn it, I wanted her. More than I’d ever wanted any woman in my other life. Which utterly defied logic as Director Foscari was the most irksome creature I’d ever encountered. But there was no denying the desire gripping me in a stranglehold.
Bloody hell, I was going to need a lot of brandy.
This second life was not off to a promising start.
It wasn’t too long ago that I’d thought it was hell being an angel.
I could only wonder what the hell it was going to be like being a human again.
The end.
~~~
Look for ALMOST AN ANGEL, book two in the HEAVEN CAN WAIT series, coming Fall, 2013.
~~~
DEAR READER,
Thank you so much for reading HE’S NO ANGEL! I hope you enjoyed Liam and Emma’s adventures, as well as those of Tristan and Alessandra. HE’S NO ANGEL is the first book in my new Heaven Can Wait series. The second book, ALMOST AN ANGEL (coming in late 2013) will continue the story of Tristan and Alessandra as they deal with their new circumstances, disturbing secrets and a growing attraction that could destroy them both-- all while attempting to help another human couple find their Happily Ever After. Those Happily Ever Afters are why I enjoy romance novels so much-- both reading and writing them. I just adore happy endings where love conquers all. There’s so much sorrow in the world-- let’s hear it for love! Yay!
If you’re so inclined, I would greatly appreciate it if you’d consider leaving an honest review for this book (seriously, an honest review-- it’s okay if it wasn’t your cup of tea. If all I wanted was compliments I’d call my mom, LOL!). Reader reviews are very important to authors, especially for self-published e-books. Here’s the Amazon link if you’d like to leave a review:
Review He’s No Angel on Amazon.com
Thank you again for reading HE’S NO ANGEL. I wish you a lifetime filled with much happiness and romance, and many delightful reading hours!
Best regards,
Jacquie D’Alessandro
AT LAST excerpt
Regency-era Novella, featuring my first Scottish hero
Sophia Mallory, Countess Winterbourne thought she'd left her handsome Scottish lover behind in the highlands. But when Ian Broderick shows up in a London ballroom, Sophia realizes her past is about to catch up with her, and the scandal could cost her everything…
London, 1820
Sophia moved swiftly along the perimeter of the ballroom, focused on fleeing. Escape. She had to escape. When she reached the French windows, she grasped the curved brass handle and opened the paned glass panel just enough to slip outside. A gust of unseasonably chilly air, heavy with the threat of rain, swirled around her, pebbling her skin, but she barely noticed the discomfort.
Heart pounding, she anxiously peered back into the ballroom, her staccato breaths fogging the glass. Dread seized her when she noted Ian no longer stood under the archway leading into the ballroom, but then she spied the back of a dark head standing on the far side of the room, near the punch bowl. The man’s height identified him as Ian and Sophia sucked in a quick breath of relief. Thank God. Now she just needed to circle around to the front of the mansion then request her carriage be brought around. She cursed the delay that would entail, but at least she’d escaped the ballroom undetected. And once ensconced inside her vehicle, with the velvet curtains drawn, she’d be safe.
She turned. And froze at the sight of the snowy cravat mere inches from her nose.
“Going somewhere, Sophia?” Ian’s husky voice, rich with the flavor of Scotland, filled the darkness between them.
And with a sinking heart Sophia knew, that with those three simple words, everything she’d tried to escape had found her.
End of At Last excerpt.
Buy At Last now.
MINE AT MIDNIGHT excerpt
Contemporary Romantic Comedy
For Cinderella, the fun ended at midnight. But for Merrie Langston, that’s just when things start heating up…
Merrie is a free-spirited, caterer looking for a bank loan to expand her business. Tom Farrell is her buttoned-down accountant who’s trying to get her finances in order-- no easy task as she keeps her receipts in Baggies. Sparks fly when these opposites realize they do indeed attract.
Tom wasn't sure how a caterer dressed in an elf's costume could look so sexy. His gaze dropped to her mouth and he barely refrained from groaning.
One taste. One kiss. Just to satisfy this inexplicable, insatiable curiosity. He lowered his head, slowly, giving Merrie the opportunity stop him, but instead she lifted her face and rose up on her toes.
He brushed his lips over hers, once, twice, experimental touches that enflamed rather than satisfied. He lightly ran the tip of his tongue over her bottom lip, a favor she instantly returned. And in a heartbeat he was lost.
She tasted exactly the way she smelled-- sweet, seductive, and delicious. He heard a low groan. Him? Her? He didn’t know. Didn’t know anything beyond the satiny, luscious warmth of her mouth, the erotic friction of her tongue rubbing against his. The bewitching feel of her pressed against him as he drew her closer and she wrapped her arms more tightly around him.
Heat, want, desire, pumped through him, rapidly depleting his control. His hands glided slowly up her back, and he plucked off her elf hat to sift his hands through her silky soft curls. Everything about her was curvy, feminine, and soft and fit so well against every part of him that was so… not soft. She strained closer, shifting against him, and his erection jerked in response.
Some small, barely audible kernel of common sense worked its way through the fog of lust clouding his judgment and reminded him that they stood in the Baxter’s kitchen and that this had gone far enough.
He lifted his head and fought to control his ragged breathing. Merrie clung to him, short puffs of breath emanating from between her moist, parted lips. A hint of crimson stained her cheeks, and she slowly opened her eyes. A growl of want rose in his throat. She looked glazed, dazed, and thoroughly aroused. Much the way he assumed he must look.
“Holy cow,” she said in a breathless whisper.
Personally, he didn’t think ‘holy cow’ did that kiss justice, but damn, he was impressed she was capable of speech. He sure as hell wasn’t there yet.
She blinked several times, her stunned gaze searching his face as if she’d never seen him before. “I, um, didn’t know accountants could kiss like that.”
He had to swallow twice to finally locate his voice. “I didn’t know elves could kiss like that.”
“I’m not sure they normally do. Seems like it would melt the north polar cap.”
She could say that again. He felt as if he were roasting from the inside out. And if he didn’t step away from her, he was going to kiss her again. Which would definitely be unwise-- for some reason he couldn’t think of right now, but he was pretty sure there was one.
After slowly releasing her, he took a step back. Her arms slipped from around him, then settled at her sides. He immediately missed the feel of her against him, which was bad. Really bad. But now that she wasn’t touching him, his brain was kicking back into action, shouting recriminations at him. Since he felt responsible for starting this… whatever it was, it was up to him to cut it off at the pass.
He raked his hands, which weren’t completely steady, through his hair. “Look, Merrie, as pleasant as that kiss was, I think we can agree that it wouldn’t be a good idea to repeat it.” He forced himself not to wince at using a tepid word like “pleasant” to describe a passionate exchange that had steam all but exuding from his pores. “You’re my client, and I wouldn’t want to start anything that could be construed as a conflict of interest, especially where your loan might be concerned.”
As soon as the words passed his lips his inner voice scoffed and shoved the reasoning aside. Hey, he was her accountant, he prepared her financial statements, but it’s not like he was the loan officer. Now that would be a conflict of interest. He could imagine tha
t Merrie’s kiss would induce the loan officer to not only give her the money she requested, but also the keys to the freakin’ vault.
She nodded, slowly at first, then more vigorously. “You’re right, of course. Besides, it’s not as if that kiss could go anywhere. Let’s face it, personality-wise, we’re like oil and water.”
“Exactly,” he agreed, wondering why he didn’t feel quite as relieved as he should. “Like night and day.”
“Like wet and dry. So we’ll just forget it. Go on, business as usual. Blame the last few minutes of insanity on that common holiday malady, Mistletoe Madness.”
It took him several seconds to answer because he was still trying to figure out which one of them was ‘wet’ and which one was ‘dry’-- a difficult task because nothing about their kiss could be labeled ‘dry’, and when he thought about wet… hell, his train of thought completely jumped the track.
End of Mine at Midnight excerpt.
Buy Mine at Midnight now.
KISS THE COOK excerpt
Contemporary Romantic Comedy
Melanie Gibson has her hands full. Not only is she caring for her beloved grandmother, she's also working desperately to secure a bank loan for her fledging gourmet catering service. The last thing she has time for is romance-- not even with Christopher Bishop, the sexy financial whiz who's been evaluating her business.
After eight years of toiling to put his younger siblings through school, Chris is ready to lead the life of a carefree bachelor. Then he meets Melanie, and finds himself thinking about forever. Melanie insists she's too smart to fall for a man with the devilish good looks of a practiced playboy, but Chris is determined to show her that their passion is too powerful to deny-- and that love is the sweetest thing of all
He's No Angel (Heaven Can Wait Book 1) Page 18
