#Bold&BlatantSelfPromotion

#Bold&BlatantSelfPromo – #Excerpt – #FindingHunter – #RiverbendSeriesBook 2

/ Marcia Meara / 37 Comments

Guess what today is, Boys & Girls? Yep. It’s another #Bold&BlantantSelf-Promo day, this time featuring Finding Hunter, Riverbend Book 2. Hunter Painter is a very special character, dear to my heart, and I  hope you’ll find the excerpt I’ve chosen to be both fun and intriguing. If you do and decide to give the book a try, I’ll be very interested in your take on his story.  Enjoy!

Keep An Eye on The Traveling Man

BLURB

In Book 2 of the Riverbend Series, Marcia Meara, author of Wake-Robin Ridge, A Boy Named Rabbit, and Harbinger, takes a look at the devastating effects of a family torn apart by a horrific tragedy, pitting brother against brother, and focusing on battling PTSD with the redemptive power of unwavering love and support.

Before, I never thought about taking a life. Not once.
Now, the thought fills my mind day and night, and
I wonder how I’ll hide that terrible need,
As an old car swings to the shoulder,
And stops.

~ Traveling Man ~

Hunter Painter’s darkest fears have shaped his offbeat personality since he was a child, crippling him in ways invisible to those unable to see past his quiet exterior. In a sleepy Florida town known for its eccentric inhabitants, he’s always been a mystery to most.

Only one person sees beyond Hunter’s quirky facade. Willow Greene, the new age herbalist who owns the local candle and potpourri shop, has secretly loved him since they were in high school. When, sixteen years later, she discovers Hunter has loved her just as long, Willow hopes her dreams are finally coming true.

Willow soon learns that Hunter fears happiness at her side isn’t in the cards for him. With her natural optimism and courage, she almost convinces him he’s wrong—that they can really have that life together they both long for—but even Willow can’t stop what Hunter knows is coming.

One by one, his worst nightmares become reality, culminating in an unthinkable tragedy, which devastates everyone it touches. Willow’s battle begins in earnest as Hunter is plunged into a bleak, guilt-ridden despair, threatening to destroy not only their love, but Hunter, himself.

Finding Hunter is the story of a lost man’s desperate struggle to make his way home again, and one woman’s unshakeable faith in him and the power of their love.

EXCERPT

Chapter 4
I’ve Gone to China
Saturday, December 29, 2012
~~~

HUNTER GROANED, PULLING his feather pillow over his head not only to block out the world, but just in case he started shouting in frustration.

What the hell happened? What the bloody hell just happened? Everything was fine. It was going better than I ever thought it would, and then suddenly it all went crazy. She kissed me! Why the hell did she kiss me? How the hell was I supposed to resist that?

The memory of that kiss rocketed into him so hot and fast, it scorched a path through his soul. Never in his life had a kiss transported him that way. He could still feel her mouth under his, sweet and yielding, and burning like fire. The raspberry scent of her hair lingered on his hands, and he would never, ever forget the taste of her skin. Every nerve ending in his body felt burned raw from the experience—so sensitive, the slightest breeze sliding over it would cause unbearable pain.

But somewhere in his torment, he also remembered how she had responded to him, moaning into that kiss, and whispering his name over and over as they clung to each other. She wanted him, too, a concept that had never once seemed a possibility in all the years he had loved her.

Doesn’t make it any better, does it, you stupid fool? Still never gonna happen. You don’t belong with Willow Greene, and nothing’s going to change that. All you’re doing here is torturing yourself.

He swore into his pillow. “’Take a chance,’ Gunn said. ‘Call her up,’ Gunn said. I’m gonna find that bastard and pound him to death with one of his own cameras!”

That image distracted him from his woes for about thirty seconds, and then he slid even deeper into the hole of misery he’d dug for himself.

Never gonna leave this room again. Can’t be trusted to go out into the real world and behave like a person with a single, functioning brain cell. Just gonna have my meals delivered right here, and Dad can walk Biscuit. I’ll tell him I’m sick—and keep telling him that for the rest of my life.

A sudden rap on the bedroom door interrupted his maudlin thoughts. “Hunter? Are you awake?”

“Yeah, Dad. You can come in.”

His father stuck his head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, son, but … well … there’s a young lady down here says she wants to talk to you.”

Horrified, Hunter bolted upright. “What? What’re you talking about?”

“I’m talking about this pretty little thing at the front door, says she has to talk to you. Real long hair, sweet smile, named … um …”

Hunter smacked his head. “Willow.”

His dad nodded. “That’s it. You wanna come down?”

“No! Did you already tell her I’m here?”

“Well, sure. Should I be lying to young ladies who are looking for you?”

“Yes! I mean, no, not generally. Just this one.”

“You do something to her, Hunter?”

“No, of course not. Well, not like you mean. It’s just … aw, it’s complicated, Dad. Can you just tell her I wasn’t up here, or I’m asleep, or I’m sick, or I’ve gone to China? Something? I’m not coming down there!”

His dad gave him a disapproving look. “Okay. Have it your way, but no, I’m not gonna lie to this little gal. I’m just gonna go tell her you don’t want to see her.”

Flinging himself back down on the bed, Hunter growled in frustration. “Fine. If that’s what you want to do, do it. I’m still not coming down.” He clamped the pillow back over his face, and refused to say anything else.

His dad sighed, closed the door a little too hard, and stomped down the stairs.

Two minutes later, Hunter heard a tap, and the sound of the door opening again.

This time, he didn’t bother to lift the pillow. “Did she go away?”

“No, I didn’t go away, Hunter. And I’m not going to.”

Once again, Hunter bolted to a sitting position. He dropped his pillow and stared at Willow, mouth agape. “Willow! You can’t just walk into my room. It’s … you … this isn’t …”

“Oh stop, Hunter. I’m here. And you and I are going to talk.”

************************

Download on Kindle for Just $3.99
Available in Print for  $13.99

 Author Marcia Meara

Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years and four big cats.

When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening, and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. She enjoys nature. Really, really enjoys it. All of it! Well, almost all of it, anyway. From birds, to furry critters, to her very favorites, snakes. The exception would be spiders, which she truly loathes, convinced that anything with eight hairy legs is surely up to no good. She does not, however, kill spiders anymore, since she knows they have their place in the world. Besides, her husband now handles her Arachnid Catch and Release Program, and she’s good with that.

Spiders aside, the one thing Marcia would like to tell each of her readers is that it’s never too late to make your dreams come true. If, at the age of 69, she could write and publish a book (and thus fulfill 64 years of longing to do that very thing), you can make your own dreams a reality, too. Go for it! What have you got to lose?

Buy Marcia’s Books Here

Novels
Wake-Robin Ridge: Book 1
A Boy Named Rabbit: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 2
Harbinger: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 3
The Light: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 4

Swamp Ghosts: Riverbend Book 1
Finding Hunter: Riverbend Book 2
That Darkest Place: Riverbend Book 3

Riverbend Spinoff Novellas
The Emissary 1
The Emissary 2 – To Love Somebody
The Emissary 3 – Love Hurts

Poetry
Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love

Reach Marcia on Social Media Here:

Blog: The Write Stuff
Facebook
Email: marciameara16@gmail.com

#Bold&BlatantSelfPromo – #Excerpt – #SwampGhosts – #RiverbendBook1

/ Marcia Meara / 35 Comments

Time for another Bold & Blatant Self-Promotion post. This time around, I’ll be sharing Book 1 from my Riverbend series, Swamp Ghosts. While my Wake-Robin Ridge books have some mountain legends and mildly paranormal goings-on, there’s nothing like that in this series. (Mostly because the folks who live in Riverbend are weird enough all by themselves. ) If you haven’t yet read these books, I hope the following blurb and excerpt will pique your interest. Enjoy!

Riverbend, Where the Most Dangerous Animal in the Swamp
Walks on Two Legs.

BLURB

Wildlife photographer Gunnar Wolfe looked like the kind of guy every man wanted to be and every woman just plain wanted, and the St. Johns River of central Florida drew him like a magnet. Ecotour boat owner Maggie Devlin knew all the river’s secrets, including the deadliest ones found in the swamps. But neither Maggie nor Gunn was prepared for the danger that would come after them on two legs.

On a quest to make history photographing the rarest birds of them all, Gunnar hires the fiery, no-nonsense Maggie to canoe him into the most remote wetland areas in the state. He was unprepared for how much he would enjoy both the trips and Maggie’s company. He soon realizes he wants more than she’s able to give, but before he can win her over, they make a grisly discovery that changes everything, and turns the quiet little town of Riverbend upside down. A serial killer is on the prowl among them.

EXCERPT

Lunchtime
Southern Comfort Cafe
Riverbend, Florida
~~~

I sat at a small table outside of Southern Comfort Café, staring open-mouthed at Gunnar, who was finishing up the last of his lunch, oblivious to my chagrin.

“Are you freakin’ kidding me? You’ve never been in a canoe before?”

He glanced up, surprised at my expression. “Nope. Never have. Is that a problem for you?”

“You mean to tell me you plan to canoe all over Florida, in and out of the most hidden and inaccessible backwaters in the whole state, with no experience paddling a canoe at all?”

“Well … I’ve seen people paddle them. I think I understand the principle behind it all. Surely you can teach me the fundamentals before we set out?”

“We spent two hours yesterday, going over the areas you wanted to be taken to, and you didn’t think this was something you should mention? When were you planning to tell me?”

“Just now, obviously. I didn’t realize you’d be quite so alarmed by the fact.”

I huffed in exasperation. I even considered getting up and leaving. But then I thought about how much I needed the money. I guess when you are raised on the river, as I had been, you just take for granted that everyone knows about boats and canoes.

“Are you mad at me again?” Gunnar asked, head cocked slightly to one side. “I don’t think I’ve ever made one lady mad so often in such a short space of time before.” He looked genuinely puzzled.

I stared at the table, thinking about this whole venture, then I shook my head in resignation. No point in being a complete bitch about it, I guessed.

“We aren’t getting off to the best of starts here, are we?” I finally asked. “Look, Gunnar, if we are going to do this, we need to be able to communicate well with each other, and we should try to get along. I’m not used to working with anyone else, so I tend to be a bit … umm …”

“Bossy?” He offered.

“I was going to say used to doing things in a certain way, but I guess it might seem bossy to you. I’ll try to be less so. But you need to be open with me about things like this, and you need to trust my judgment about what’s important for these trips and what’s not. Whether we find your birds or we don’t, we’ll be spending some long days out on the river, in areas so remote, an accident could cause real problems for us. We need to work well together, understand each other, and focus on the goal of each trip.”

“Okay. I can understand that. I’ll try not to keep anything from you about my skill on the river, and I’ll trust your decisions when they concern navigation and safety.”

“What exactly are your skills on the river, Gunnar?”

“Gunn.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“My friends call me Gunn. And to do this, I think we should be friends. Or at least not enemies.”

“Okay, Gunn. What are your skills on the river?”

He considered his reply for a minute, then gave a rueful shrug. “None.”

“None?”

“Nope. Not a one I can think of. Never been in a canoe, can’t remember the last time I was in a boat. I think it may have been back in Minnesota. Don’t fish. Don’t hunt. Wouldn’t know a garter snake from a water moccasin, or a bass from a gar. Pretty much no river skills at all.”

I was speechless for a minute. “But … what about all those gorgeous pictures of the river and the birds and alligators and stuff? Your wildlife photos are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”

He grinned. “Thank you, Margaret.”

“Maggie. If I’m to call you Gunn, you may as well call me Maggie, I guess. Everyone else does.”

“Deal. Thank you, Maggie. But if you look at my pictures more closely, you might realize that every single one of them was taken from the shoreline of nearby lakes and rivers—or from one of the bridges around here. All of the birds are common waders, seen everywhere, and you can’t pass by a drainage ditch that isn’t home to an alligator or a log full of turtles. I’ve taken all of my photos from dry land. Never been out on the water, even once.”

I digested that in silence for a moment, then had a sudden thought. “You aren’t afraid of boats, are you?”

“No, of course not,” he replied immediately. “Well, I mean, not as far as I know. I’m not afraid of the idea of boats, anyway. But having never actually been out on the river in one, I can’t say with absolute certainty whether I’ll like it or not.”

He must have noticed I was looking dismayed again, because he hastened to add, “Don’t worry, though. It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not. It’s the best way to find what I’m looking for, and I’ll adapt. I’m committed. Count on it.”

************************

Download on Kindle for Just $1.99
Available in Print for  $13.99

 Author Marcia Meara

Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years and four big cats.

When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening, and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. She enjoys nature. Really, really enjoys it. All of it! Well, almost all of it, anyway. From birds, to furry critters, to her very favorites, snakes. The exception would be spiders, which she truly loathes, convinced that anything with eight hairy legs is surely up to no good. She does not, however, kill spiders anymore, since she knows they have their place in the world. Besides, her husband now handles her Arachnid Catch and Release Program, and she’s good with that.

Spiders aside, the one thing Marcia would like to tell each of her readers is that it’s never too late to make your dreams come true. If, at the age of 69, she could write and publish a book (and thus fulfill 64 years of longing to do that very thing), you can make your own dreams a reality, too. Go for it! What have you got to lose?

Buy Marcia’s Books Here

Novels
Wake-Robin Ridge: Book 1
A Boy Named Rabbit: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 2
Harbinger: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 3
The Light: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 4

Swamp Ghosts: Riverbend Book 1
Finding Hunter: Riverbend Book 2
That Darkest Place: Riverbend Book 3

Riverbend Spinoff Novellas
The Emissary 1
The Emissary 2 – To Love Somebody
The Emissary 3 – Love Hurts

Poetry
Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love

Reach Marcia on Social Media Here:

Blog: The Write Stuff
Facebook
Email: marciameara16@gmail.com

 

#Bold&BlatantSelfPromo – #Excerpt – #ABoyNamedRabbit -#WakeRobinRidgeBook2

/ Marcia Meara / 36 Comments

Good Morning, Everyone.  Thought maybe I’d do another Bold and Blatant Self Promotion post today, featuring A Boy Named Rabbit, the book which introduces the little boy who seems to have become a big favorite with most of my readers. Maybe some of you who haven’t yet met this young man will be intrigued by the small peek into his story, and will decide to check out for yourselves just what makes him so special. Hope you enjoy  today’s excerpt!

Once You Let Rabbit Into Your Heart,
You’ll Never Forget Him!

BLURB

“Evil’s comin’, boy…comin’ fast. Look for the man with eyes like winter skies, and hair like a crow’s wing. He’s the one you gotta find.”

The remote mountain wilderness of North Carolina swallowed up the ten-year-old boy as he made his way down from the primitive camp where his grandparents had kept him hidden all his life. His dying grandmother, gifted with the Sight, set him on a quest to find the Good People, and though he is filled with fear and wary of civilization, Rabbit is determined to keep his promise to her. When he crosses paths with Sarah and MacKenzie Cole, neither their lives nor his, are ever the same again.

The extraordinary little boy called Rabbit has the power to light up the darkness, and the resourcefulness to save himself from the one person his grandparents had hoped would never find him. His dangerous and bittersweet journey will touch you in unexpected ways, and once you’ve let Rabbit into your heart, you’ll never forget him.

EXCERPT

Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Deep in the North Carolina Mountains

The morning birdsong woke Rabbit just before daylight. He had cried himself to sleep on the tent floor, and when he sat up to check, his gran was lying still and pale, her shallow breath the faintest whisper. Not gone yet.

“Gran?” He kept his voice low, wanting to know she was still with him, but sorry to disturb her rest. When she didn’t move, he tried again, louder. “Gran? Are you okay? Please be okay…”

 Her hand shot out and caught his in an iron grip, pulling him close. “Boy? Is that you?”

“Yes. I’m here, Gran.” Her voice was so faint, he had to strain to hear.

 “Evil’s comin’, Boy…comin’ fast. Remember, find the man with…winter blue eyes. He’ll keep you safe… from…bad people. You have to…find him…” The last words slid out of her on a long, rattling sigh, and she went still as stone.

Rabbit had seen death many times, but never the death of a person. And never the death of someone he loved, one of only two faces he’d ever known. He was stricken speechless, too shocked even to cry. Instead, he sat beside the cot, holding her hand until it grew cool, then he roused himself and walked outside.

My gran is gone. She’s gone. And my grampa isn’t coming back, neither. I’m alone now. I gotta be strong. That’s what she said. I gotta be strong, and leave the mountain. I gotta find the good people. Grampa says there ain’t any, but maybe I should believe what Gran said. We can’t be the only ones who ain’t bad. I gotta find the rest. And I gotta hunt for the man with eyes like winter skies and hair like a crow’s wing.

He repeated those words to himself over and over as he gathered up his scant belongings and put them in a battered backpack his grampa had given him years ago. He had fishing line, a simple snare, and an old canteen he filled at the stream. His grampa made fire with a piece of flint and tinder, but his gran had a small metal tin with matches in it. He tucked the tin into his backpack, too, and strapped on his hunting knife.

For an hour or so, he was too busy preparing to leave to think about the enormity of what might lie ahead. He cooked the last of yesterday’s fish for breakfast, washed the small pan, and tied it on top of his backpack. Last, he tied his little bedroll on the bottom of the backpack, and he was done. There was nothing else he could think of to take. With his extra pair of jeans and a flannel shirt squeezed into his pack, he tied the sleeves of his heavy jacket around his waist, and decided he was as ready as he would ever be, to do something he didn’t want to do at all.

After tending to the fire, making sure every ember was doused and cold, he went back into the tent and said goodbye to his gran. “I know you shouldn’t oughta be left like this, but I don’t know what to do with you, Gran. You told me once before, a body goes empty when a person dies, and isn’t much important, but if you’re lookin’ down at me, I promise I’ll try to come back with help, so I don’t have to leave you here forever. You was always good to me, and I know you loved me. I loved you, too, Gran, and I’ll miss you every single day, and even though I don’t know how I can find one man outta a whole world full of them, I promise I’ll try. Thank you for all you done for me.” He tucked the old army blanket around her, and kissed her forehead, blinking back tears.

No time for tears now. I gotta get as far as I can today, before dark. Maybe I’ll cry then.

The little boy called Rabbit walked out of the tent where he’d been raised, picked a direction at random, and headed downhill to the west, hoping he’d find the Good People instead of the Bad, and wondering where he should look for the man with the winter eyes. The rugged wilderness of the North Carolina Mountains swallowed him up in minutes, as though he had never been there at all.

On his own for the first time in his life, Rabbit was only ten years old.

************************

Download on Kindle for Just $3.99
 Available in Print for $13.99

Author Marcia Meara

Marcia Meara lives in central Florida, just north of Orlando, with her husband of over thirty years and four big cats.

When not writing or blogging, she spends her time gardening, and enjoying the surprising amount of wildlife that manages to make a home in her suburban yard. She enjoys nature. Really, really enjoys it. All of it! Well, almost all of it, anyway. From birds, to furry critters, to her very favorites, snakes. The exception would be spiders, which she truly loathes, convinced that anything with eight hairy legs is surely up to no good. She does not, however, kill spiders anymore, since she knows they have their place in the world. Besides, her husband now handles her Arachnid Catch and Release Program, and she’s good with that.

Spiders aside, the one thing Marcia would like to tell each of her readers is that it’s never too late to make your dreams come true. If, at the age of 69, she could write and publish a book (and thus fulfill 64 years of longing to do that very thing), you can make your own dreams a reality, too. Go for it! What have you got to lose?

Buy Marcia’s Books Here

Novels
Wake-Robin Ridge: Book 1
A Boy Named Rabbit: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 2
Harbinger: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 3
The Light: Wake-Robin Ridge Book 4

Swamp Ghosts: Riverbend Book 1
Finding Hunter: Riverbend Book 2
That Darkest Place: Riverbend Book 3

Riverbend Spinoff Novellas
The Emissary 1
The Emissary 2 – To Love Somebody
The Emissary 3 – Love Hurts

Poetry
Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love

Reach Marcia on Social Media Here:

Blog: The Write Stuff
Facebook
Email: marciameara16@gmail.com

#GuestDayTuesday – #Bold&BlatantSelfPromo – #Excerpt – #TheEmissary2: To Love Somebody

/ Marcia Meara / 23 Comments

See, this is what happens when you guys don’t have any news or ideas you want to share: when #GuestDayTuesday rolls around, you just might get ME as the guest! Et voila! Here I am! 

Decided to share an excerpt from my second Emissary Trilogy novella. It’s a scene I hope you’ll find amusing, even without knowing all the particulars of the story at this point.  And for those who think they’d enjoy reading more, these three novellas should definitely be read in order.

But for now, Happy Reading!

 

EXERPT:

Sitting in a Booth Where Cracked Red Vinyl Had Run Amuck,
Ordering That Too-Late Breakfast or Too-Early Lunch,
While Studiously Avoiding Each Other’s Eyes. 

“WHY DO YOU supposed diners always have red plastic seats and red Formica tables? I mean, is it like a law, or somethin’? Part of the original blueprints? Or building code?”

Jake watched Dodger drumming nervous fingers on that very Formica tabletop and knew the boy wanted to talk. He wasn’t going to push him, however. As proven once again by this morning’s events, that never worked. When he was ready, he would talk. Until then, apparently diner décor was what interested him most.

“No idea. Maybe you can research that while we’re on the road so we’ll learn what’s what before we stop at another one.”

Dodger stared out the window. “You’re bein’ condescending, you know.”

“Sorry. Just trying to help you find something to talk about.”

“Well, don’t. I don’t really wanna talk about diners or Formica or anything else like that, and you know it.”

“Yeah, I guess I do. But to be fair, you did talk about it, so I was just playing along.” Jake took a sip of his iced tea, waited a beat, then tried again. “Dodger, you don’t need to explain anything to me. I’m in your corner, no matter what. But that doesn’t mean you have to tell me every detail from your life before we met.”

Finally, Dodger’s face swung back toward Jake. “But I do—at least I do, if it’s somethin’ I need you to understand. And this is.”

“Okay, then. As long as it’s what you want, I’ll always listen. And I’ll always help if I can.”

“I know that. I think I’ve known that since that day in the hospital parking lot, when you told me you wouldn’t take me back to the crap life I was livin’ before you rescued me. And I do trust you. It’s only that I’ve never talked about stuff like this to anyone. Ever. I don’t have any idea how to start.”

“Well, before you go any further, let me say that I didn’t mean to act like there was something wrong with you. Not at all. The honest truth is, as I look back on my own life and think about what was going on with young people around me, I suspect there were way too many of them having sex before they were emotionally mature enough to take that step. But the right time and circumstances are different for everyone, and I didn’t mean to sound like I was judging you.”

Dodger appeared to be inspecting the Formica all over again while his face turned just as red, but waiting was something Jake was good at. It was a skill the boy had helped him perfect.

A few minutes crept by, then Dodger plunged in. “Don’t know if I was ready for it or not, but it wouldn’t have mattered. Not at first, anyway. I was a shrimpy little kid, and way too young to interest the girls. A couple of years later, I’d put on some weight, and must have looked better. Next thing I knew, there was some coked-up, empty-eyed girl or another backin’ me into a corner every time I turned around.” He paused, then ground out, “I hated it!”

“Okay. Do you want to tell me why?”

It took three tries before Dodger was able to answer, and Jake wasn’t surprised at the pain in the boy’s voice.

“I had this dumbass idea when I left home that I’d find someone who cared about me. Someone I’d matter to.” He looked up, eyes glittering with unshed tears. “I guess I just wanted somebody, somewhere, to love me. No one ever had, Jake, and even as messed up as I was by then, one thing I knew for damn sure—none of those girls followin’ us runners around were gonna love me, either.” He paused, then stared out the window again.

“So, you waited?”

Nodding, Dodger went on. “Yeah. I waited. And kept waiting. Not like I was holdin’ out for something permanent or anything. I just wanted it to matter. I wanted me to matter. Stupid, huh?”

“No, Dodge. Not stupid at all. Love is the one thing in the world that truly does matter, above all else. Of course you wanted it. We all do. We’re born reaching for it, and the fact that you already knew the truth of that at the age of sixteen is one more example of how special you are. Azrael was right in telling me to save your life at all costs, and right again in bringing you back. You have so much to give this world, and you’re making a real difference in the lives of others every single day. And as for someone loving you, I know this isn’t the same, but I couldn’t love you more if you were my own son.”

“Thank you for that,” Dodger whispered. “I can’t even put into words how much that means to me.” The boy stared at the Formica again, his face still forlorn.

“But?”

“But I still wish I’d managed to get laid. At least once.”

You can download The Emissary 2: To Love Somebody HERE
(But don’t forget, these 3 novellas are meant to be read in order.)

BLURB:

They’re back!

Jake and Dodger, the first (and so far, only) Emissaries to the Angels, are on the road again.

They’re looking for mortals about to take a wrong turn. You know the ones—the kid thinking about stealing from a corner market or the man planning to lie about a coworker and destroy her career. Yeah, them. People on the brink of making a mistake that could send them down that wrong road and jeopardize their mortal souls.

Of course, there are rules by which the emissaries must play, and the archangel Azrael stands ready to enforce them. First and foremost, a person’s free will must never be compromised. Emissaries are allowed to use only the smallest of mental nudges. Thankfully, a whispered suggestion here or images of a better course of action there is usually all it takes. The potential mugger walks on by. The thief drops the wallet back into the unattended purse. But whether the results are obvious or not, Jake and Dodger are fully committed to making a positive difference, even as they struggle with issues of their own.

Will Dodger get over losing his chance to learn what true love is all about? Will Jake survive the grueling angelic equivalent of Boot Camp? Will Azrael ever finish the Official Emissarial Guidebook—including the chapter titled Do Not Even Think About It?

One thing’s for sure—Jake’s and Dodger’s strengths are growing daily, as they help more and more people make better choices. But is the price for so much power higher than they’re willing to pay?