This month I've read several really good books. One took me back to Mykonos and let me experience more of the beautiful island than our short cruise ship docking allowed.






Greek Encounter by Mona Risk is like a mini vacation with hot love scenes thrown in for added measure.

Available for 99 cents at

http://tinyurl.com/6ulnxzg

Mykonos is a beautiful island and known as the party capital of the Mediterrean. The island was just beginning to hop when we had to make our way back to the cruise ship.

Who could help but enjoy the island when you're welcome with open arms?

This next one is free on Amazon tonight. Hurray and get your copy!

Another book I read was the novella, "Night Before Doomsday," by Linda Nightingale. I don't have any pictures to illustrate this one, buy a peek at her cover is worth a thousand words. I tried to copy and paste a copy of Linda's hot cover here, but haven't been able to get it done. This is one interesting read, it is sprinkled with little details about angels that I found fascinating. The ending was unique and unexpected. This is a definite must "read."


This next one is available on both Smashwords and Amazon.

Have a hankering for something downhome, southern, with love, lust and just a touch of old fashioned women's fiction? Then curl up with "The Gift" by Mary Marvella. This book is well crafted, touching, emotionally fulfilling, and just an all round good read.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00631OX6W
http://bit.ly/tFy77u
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/101492

I love to read, I don't have as much time as I'd like to read, because I work full time and write. Historical Romance was my first love, then I met series contemporary romance and finally romantic suspense. Yep, I'm a book slut. I admit it and relish the title.

Have I whetted your appetite for a good read? I hope so, because I really enjoyed these books. Tell me what are you reading?

I am so excited about my new cover from incredible cover artist Jared Rackler. He also did the cover for my coming release from Double Dragon Publishing, Gemini Rising, a July release. I'll share both covers here.

Night Before Doomsday is available on Amazon with an excerpt. I'd like to share the blurb.

In Genesis, "The sons of God saw that the daughters of men were fair; and they took wives for themselves from those who were pleasing to them."

Azazel was a leader of the Grigori, the angels sent to Earth to teach Mankind after the oust from Eden, how to survive in a less hospitable environment. Nine-tenths of the Grigori fell from Grace, but was it love or lust?

This novella presents the Grigori's tale in first person from Azazel's point of view--the temptations, his struggles and the final realization that Heaven doesn't speak to him anymore.



Gemini Rising:

From birth, Alain and Alina Alastair are a scientificmiracle--identical male-female twins--a biological impossibility. Destined to tread the farther, forbidden paths, they discover love, lust,and danger lurking in their future. When their parents whisk theirmiracle children home to an isolated island, their lives reach a turning point.

Alain craves escape from the seclusion.

Alina yearns to express her love with a man who treasures her.

The secrets at Alastair Keep threaten to undermine the very foundations of the world in which these impossible twins live.

Please visit me at http://lindanightingale.com or my Amazon Author Page.

Night Before Doomsday is novella that was inspired by a quote from Genesis, "The sons of God saw that the daughters of men were fair; and they took wives for themselves from those who were pleasing to them."


So, I read the Book of Enoch to find out more about these angels who fell from grace for the love—or was it lust—of a woman. Below is a blurb.

Azazel was a leader of the Grigori, the angels sent to Earth to teach Mankind after the oust from Eden, how to survive in a less hospitable environment. Nine-tenths of the Grigori fell from Grace, but was it love or lust?

This novella presents the Grigori's tale in first person from Azazel's point of view--the temptations, his struggles and the final realization that Heaven doesn't speak to him anymore.

Excerpt is available.

Night Before Doomsday is on sale at Amazon for $.99—an inexpensive glance into a mystery.

My son, Simon, designed the cover!

Angels are androgynous, and above the baser cravings of humankind.

Above reproach.

However, in the Book of Enoch, we meet The Grigori or Watchers. In the course of their visitation to Humankind, they become the voyeurs.

Angels being considered sexless and above reproach, the church was challenged to explain how they mated with mortal women. In the thirteenth century, the Bishop of Paris adopted a typical compromise. According to his theory, there were nine orders of angels but it was a separate one, the tenth that fell. These Sons of God saw the Daughters of Man and, we are told in Genesis 6, lusted after seductive flesh and took themselves wives from among them [women].

This was a neat solution to a discomforting theological double-bind. For it was difficult to reconcile a theology which insisted that angels were sexless with the damning evidence from the Scriptures showing these lusty celestials were enthusiastically proving the opposite.

Angels are not supposed to be able to produce offspring. Only demons can procreate. Angelic lore has it that the Grigori are nearer in form, genes and sexual interest to human beings, and that they had a genuine friendship and desire to teach humankind the secrets of Heaven. Azazel, the protagonist in my recently released Night Before Doomsday taught women the arts of seduction—makeup, how to dress, etc.

There were ten leaders of the Grigori, once illustrious angels, all listed as fallen by the fourth century. Of the two hundred angels who descended to Earth, nine-tenths fell to lust, siring the Nephilim. The Bible has this to say about the Nephilim: The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.

Anyone who has seen Supernatural or the short-lived series The Fallen will be familiar with TV’s version of the Nephilim.

This novella is an alternate history and the tale of the Grigori told in first person from the leader Azazel’s POV. The cover is the sigil (a mark given at his creation to each angel) of the angel Azazel. The sigil and the characters of any angel, light or dark, are used in alchemy to summon that angel. There were nights when I was writing Night Before Doomsday and I, Azazel, an as yet unpublished novel, when the hair at my nape would stir and I’d curl closer in my bed.

I’d like to share the blurb from NBD and an excerpt.

Blurb:

In Genesis, "The sons of God saw that the daughters of men were fair; and they took wives for themselves from those who were pleasing to them."Azazel was a leader of the Grigori, the angels sent to Earth to teach Mankind after the oust from Eden, how to survive in a less hospitable environment. Nine-tenths of the Grigori fell from Grace, but was it love or lust?This novella presents the Grigori's tale in first person from Azazel's point of view--the temptations, his struggles and the final realization that Heaven doesn't speak to him anymore.

Excerpt:

Eyes lined with charcoal as I’d taught them, lips rouged by my own hand mocked me. A bold hand slid beneath my robe, up my thigh, and gripped my shaft. The hot vibration deep inside trembled along my organ, growing longer and stiff.

Like a spider's web touched by a candle's flame, memories of Home shriveled.

Gentle Magdalene smoothed the hair back from my face, staring at my shocked expression. “Oh, Azazel.” A fingertip traced my cheek. “Did we hurt you?”

“No.” I clamored to my feet, bewildered by the feelings torturing me.

None would meet my gaze. Lord of Hosts, if they were afraid of me, I was doubly afraid of them. I’d never felt desire or the effect passion had on the body. If I had experienced sexual longings, I’d ignored them. Now, I could no longer pretend. My body yearned for something I’d believed to be the province of Man and the beasts.

Ruth winked a painted eyelid. In her dark eyes, amusement twinkled.

“Ungrateful rabble.” I tossed my hair back and folded my wings around me, brushing the dust from my feathers. “I make you alluring. You repay me by rolling me in the dirt and trying to tickle me to death.”

“You’re an angel.” Ruth undulated her shoulders. The lush breasts pointed at me swayed. “You can’t die.”

Oh, but I was dying. More than they could possibly know. Dying to touch them, dying for them to touch me, caress me there again. Before my face revealed forbidden desire, I schooled my expression stern.

Night Before Doomsday is available from Smashwords.

A page from a companion short story starring the main character of my WIP:

I, Azazel, of the Order of Grigori, am fallen.

I am not evil.

Look for me. Sitting at the bar beside you. You will know me by my long, fair hair and charismatic smile. My countenance hints at mystery.

My art is, and has always been, the science of seduction.

Saturday morning, seven o’clock, I woke up horny with no remedy in the house but relief was only a phone call away. By ten, I'd gotten laid, kissed sweet Maggie goodbye and stood gazing out the glass wall overlooking the neon splendor of Las Vegas. My white-on-white home built on a hill outside the city was angular, ultra-modern but the furnishings antique.

Young on the outside, old on the inside—like me.

I’d lived in this neoteric garden long enough to imitate the livestock. Sin City suited me. Normally, I'm an easy-going, cheerful even loving fellow. At the moment, however, absolutely nothing suited me. I wished I’d asked Maggie to stay instead of hurrying her on her way. If this ungodly restlessness survived a day in bed with Maggie, I’d require the help of my old friend Bombay Sterling, grinning at me from the liquor cabinet. Another of their habits I'd adopted—
when memories came creeping back. I was wondering if I wanted a martini or a gin-and-tonic when a sharp pain cramped my hand into a fist. Never one for profanity, I exhaled an archaic curse, opened my hand and forgot all about Bombay, Maggie and the heebie-jeebies.

The symbol in my palm bulged blood-red.... as it had on the day my punishment began. The strange symbol had been the subject of many short discussions with mortals who asked if it was a birthmark. I'd nod, smile and change the subject. If only they knew....

At creation, each angel was given an individual sigil. For millennia my heavenly tattoo had been merely a silvery-white scar in my right palm, a sad reminder of what I’d given up. Another razor of pain sliced along the ulner nerve to my elbow, sending a thousand bells ringing in my ears as my vibration soared from the slower corporeal hum to the high pitch of pure Spirit. My hand paled to transparent. Any moment, my mortal pretense was going to dissolve. Then what? Poof...gone...MIA angel?

Something was desperately wrong and I feared I knew what it was, at long last, Retribution coming to call. The night before, I’d succumbed to insanity—voluntary reckless self-endangerment—but for a short time I'd known the perfect joy of Spirit.

In that sparkling time before darkness lost its hold on the world, I took an ivory box from the top shelf of my closet. The small treasure chest had accompanied me on all my many journeys. With reverent, trembling hands, I lifted luminescent fabric from its casket and wrapped myself in sin. Amazing. The garment felt so right when my very touch profaned.

Before the beginning of Recorded Time in a grand show of Old Testament justice, Raphael had stripped the holy robes from my shoulders, and with it, my divinity.

As with most of my adventures, it all started innocently enough. I'd been feeling a bit lonely, tired of staring at the four walls and decided to go out and about in Sin City--Viva Las Vegas. I took a short cut through a back alley and happened upon a human tragedy in progress. Gun drawn, a street kid had an old man cornered between a dumpster and a brick wall.

“Good evening, Junior-G, my name is Azazel. Drop your weapon, put your hands above your head and turn around slowly.” My voice was calm and gritty, a fair imitation of Clint Eastwood. I was tempted to add or I’ll twitch my nose and your little cock will fall off, but that might get the old man shot.

The kid whirled, gun leveled at my chest and fired. The bullet sped toward me, spun a graceful ninety-degree turn and like a heat-seeking missile honed in on its target, the kid holding the gun. In a freeze-frame instant, Junior's jaw dropped, his eyes stretched wide enough to pop out of his head. At the last moment, the bullet veered right to strike the dumpster with an explosive ring like metallic thunder. He hung there as if suspended from invisible strings attached to the waistband of his jeans.

“Bastard,” he gasped.

“Mind your tongue, Junior.” Cool, confident, I strolled toward him.

He gave me a tough guy stare but his gun hand shook. Effort pinched his face. He was definitely stretching his intellect to understand what had just happened and fast becoming a nervous kid in street clothes—baggy jeans riding low, showing his underwear, combat boots, black t-shirt sporting a stack of bleached skulls. He was too shocked and I moved too fast, grabbing the gun from his frozen fingers, using it to wave him on his way.

NOTE: I'd like to find the artist who drew this if anyone can point me to him/her.