Seven Deadly Sins… One tempted angel…
As an Angel of Mercy, Nayla's duty is to collect the souls of the mortals who've given up on life and return them to the Guff for rebirth. But her loyalty to duty is challenged when she's sent to destroy the essence of Grant Farris. Calling upon the Archangel Michael, she begs for leniency. After all, how can one be happy when all one has known is pain?
Grant has no idea that his eternal soul is facing total annihilation. As far as he's concerned, this life can go straight to hell…which is exactly what Lucifer intends. But when the angel Nayla interferes and is granted mortality to aid in Grant's redemption, Lucifer realizes an even better opportunity. He could have his very own Angel of Mercy!
Can Nayla save Grant's soul without losing her own to temptation?
The smell of cinnamon teased Nayla's nose. She licked her lips. "I didn’t see it set out earlier. Perhaps just a small bite then?"
The server scooped a chunk onto her plate with a smile. "Bon appetite." She winked.
Nayla plopped down into her seat across from Grant and anxiously dipped her spoon into the steaming apple dessert. She closed her eyes as the warmth of the fruit and spices melted on her palate. She scooped a bigger piece up and shoved it into her watering mouth, licking the spoon clean.
"Is that good?" Grant sniggered. "You seem to be enjoying it"—his gaze dropped to the newly clean utensil still pressed to her lips—"a lot."
Heat spread across her cheeks and down her neck. "I must confess, this is the most delicious thing I can recall ever eating. What is it named again?"
"Apple pie. A good ol' American favorite."
"Oh. I love it! Do you like to eat pie?"
Grant grunted, his dark eyes darting back to his own plate with a grin. "Oh man, do I love...pie."
She scraped up another bite. Excited over sharing something in common, she held her spoon out across the table. "I insist you eat a piece of my pie then! It is marvelous."
Grant's fork clattered to the table. He sat back, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I think I'm going to skip dessert today."
Nayla leaned over the table, swaying the apple pie before him. "Just one bite...one lick? I dare say you won't regret it." Her Slavic accent rolled the "r" in regret.
His mouth clamped down on the spoon, pulling it away from her hand. He swallowed the bite without really chewing, tossing the silverware on his plate. "Eat the muffin, Nayla. We have to leave soon."
At the age of fourteen, Ishabelle Torry stole her first romance novel, Warrior's Lady by Madeline Baker, from her mother's glass "no-no" cabinet. It was then Ishabelle fell in love with the idea of new worlds, love conquers all, and the ability to forget the real world as she took on the lives of characters that were just as real as the people she interacted with every day. It wasn't long before her fixation with romance novels landed her in the high school office to collect the books confiscated during the previous week. Ishabelle swore one day she'd write the kind of book that would keep readers so enthralled, they'd too risk confiscation to keep turning the pages!
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