The only thing standing between this fallen angel and redemption? The woman he loves.
Eons ago, Seth fell for another angel--literally--and was cast down from the Heavens. Seeking redemption, he works for the Angels of Death, taking the lives of those destined to die, his only desire to return home. But everything changes when a beautiful brunette explodes into his life and plunges his ordered world into chaos, tempting him with something he hasn't experienced in millennia. Love.
A busted radiator strands Lyndi Garrison on a deserted stretch of coastal Maine and shoves her directly into the path of a sexual predator. She fends off her attacker until an NFL-sized stranger appears from the darkness to help. She's instantly enamored of her quiet hero, and before the evening ends, they share a devastating kiss and a knock-out round of sex unlike anything she's ever known. Though she can't help but wonder... Has she finally received a second chance at happiness? Or is Fate being a bitch again?
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Ellora's Cave Publishing, Incorporated
November 13, 2009
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Excerpt from Tempted by Brandi Evans
Seth didn't know which was worse. Spending eternity in hell or working his way out of damnation by becoming a murderer.
Okay, in his defense, he technically wasn't a murderer, at least in the terms mortals used. He had, however, been responsible for the termination of more lives than he could count--all in the name of finding redemption. And no, the irony wasn't lost on him, but at the moment he didn't have time to contemplate his penance.
He was on the clock.
Franklin Michaels jogged around the bend. Each footfall brought him closer and closer to Seth. To death.
With the dropping temperatures, the coastal park in Redemption Harbor, Maine was all but deserted. Seth was grateful for the privacy. Not because he feared his target might see him--the job was easier if Seth didn't think of his victims by name--but because this termination necessitated solitude.
Why? Because his bosses, The Angels of Death, deemed it so.
Seth's job wasn't to question, but to do. To fulfill his obligations without emotion and with as little deviation from the plan's parameters as possible. Simple.
Ha! There was nothing fucking simple about carrying out a person's death, even a scumbag like this one.
For reasons Seth didn't understand, the scumbag hadn't been slated for termination two years ago when he'd had his first heart attack, with the coronary Seth would cause tonight being the second. No, fate had allowed him an additional two years of blessed breath. Time to see his daughter get married, to see his son welcome his own child into the world--to rape four more women.
One of the women he'd beaten with such animalistic rage she'd later succumbed to her injuries. Another had died by her own hand when she could no longer withstand the black void Michaels had punched into her soul.
Seth hovered toward the target. A lone spiritual "touch" was all it would take to send this bastard into a lethal episode of cardiac arrest and straight to hell where he belonged. Seth reached out and--
"Son of a bitch! I'm gonna set a blowtorch to your ass and turn you into a damn sculpture!"
Seth pulled back. Curiosity forced him to turn toward the very angry, very sultry female voice--a strikingly odd combination. Just off the main road near the park entrance a woman stood with her back to him, kicking the shit out of the tire of a tiny little hybrid car with white smoke billowing from its engine.
Under the soft glow of the streetlight above her, Seth could make out long chestnut hair with a hint of auburn undertones, as if she'd spent much of the summer camped out on one of the nearby beaches. No pants protruded from the hem of her dark, calf-length jacket. The skin of those toned legs set off a creamy contrast to her coat--so okay, maybe no long hours spent on the beach.
His mind went wild. Did she wear a skirt or dress beneath the jacket? If so, what did it look like? Would the material cling to her body like a second skin? Or would it fit loose while still managing to show off her every curve?
Or maybe she wore nothing at all...?
Concentrate, he scolded. You're here on a job.
He turned to his mark. Michaels stared at the woman too, his dark arousal filling Seth's nostrils like onions wrapped in ripe gym socks. Beautiful-Potty-Mouth was exactly this animal's type. A brunette with a body that begged men to touch, not look. The Guardian in Seth would be damned if he'd let the fiend hurt her. Not on his watch.
Yet even as the noble notion entered his mind, so did the warning against intervention. Death Code and Angelic Code both forbade intervention in the affairs of mortals, except by Divine Order. Seth had one purpose here tonight. To make sure his target died in the manner his bosses foresaw. No more. No less. To disregard The Code was to risk all hope of ever returning home.
To assure his banishment would indeed be for eternity.
Still, he moved with his target as Michaels folded himself into the shadows. It didn't take a genius to figure out what the other man was doing. Stalking.
Dark anger welled up inside Seth's chest. How was he supposed to sit back while this creep raped and maybe killed an innocent?
Beautiful-Potty-Mouth turned from the car. Toward Seth. And something happened, something he hadn't experienced since he'd lost his wings.
His soul stirred.