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After almost twenty-five years in His Majesty’s service, Lieutenant Colonel Geoffrey Langston never expected to wake up in heaven, much less being tended by an angel. But when he regains consciousness in the presence of a beautiful, dark-haired woman and with no memory of how he came to be there, what else can he think? Except it’s rather odd for an angel to have an American accent.
As the long-widowed Laura nurses the wounded Geoffrey back to health, the attraction between them heats from a simmer to a boil. Bound by his oath to the British crown, Geoffrey should be working to find his way back to his regiment and from there, to England. Instead, he’s sleeping with the enemy…
and thereby committing the crime of desertion if not treason. But then, who’s going to find out?
If only Geoffrey didn’t have a family back home who refuse to take “missing in action” for an answer.
Read an Excerpt
Where the hell was he?
Well, in a room, certainly, since there were four white walls and a white ceiling. And since he was lying on a bed, covered by a white—well, perhaps it was more cream-colored—duvet, it would be reasonable to posit he was in a bedroom. But a bedroom where?
The last thing he remembered was… He frowned in concentration, which hurt, so he immediately stopped.
He had been encamped with his battalion on the north side of the Saranac River, awaiting the order from Prévost to begin the ground offensive.
Well, this certainly was not a tent in a military encampment.
So where the hell was he, and how had he come to be here?
Gingerly, he turned his head…and found an angel.
She sat in a chair that had been pulled up alongside the bed. Her dark hair had been arranged in a simple knot at the back of her head, but curling tendrils of it escaped here and there to brush her cheeks and forehead. The dress she wore was not white, but a very pale shade of gray that sparkled in beam of light streaming in from the window behind her. In profile, her features were as fine and lovely as a porcelain doll’s, the way he imagined an angel’s would be, though there were tiny laugh lines around her eyes and mouth that seemed a trifle out of place on a divine being. But then again, perhaps angels had a lot to laugh about, seeing as how they lived in paradise. She didn’t seem to be laughing now, however. Instead, her head was bowed and her expression conveyed a state of relaxed concentration.
He squinted. Maybe the question was not where the hell he was, but where the heaven he was.
About the Author:
On the road to publication, I took a few detours, including a stint in academia (I hold an MA in Classics from the University of Chicago and was a recipient of a Mellon Fellowship in the Humanities) and many years as a technical writer/instructional designer for a data processing company. I still hold my day job, but my true vocation has always been writing fiction and romance in particular.
I’m a firm believer that love is the most powerful force in the world, which that makes romance the most powerful genre in the world. Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise!
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