About The Book:
Title: Entertaining Angels
Author: Monica Millard
Genre: Paranormal, Young Adult
Release Date: November 11, 2014
As a senior in high school, Samantha Heman’s too busy trying to avoid getting stomped by a moose at the bus stop and keeping her grades up until graduation to put much thought into angels or demons.That all changes on the day she is kidnapped by notorious serial killer, Christopher Hainsely. It’s a day she finds herself confronted by both evil and good, because her savior appears in the form of an avenging angel come to strike the monster down with a single stroke of his flaming sword.
Though she’s trying to get on with her life, she cannot get the angel out of her head. It isn’t the burning wings, fiery eyes or the flaming sword that keeps her searching the internet for proof one way or another of his existence, though.
The feeling of warmth she experienced when she witnessed that sad smile just before he vanished in a wash of golden light, haunts her nights almost as often as the nightmares.
If angels exist, then demons must too, and they’re about to wage a war for her soul.
Excerpt:
It’s only seven-thirty, so I putz around on the internet looking for new books that are out and then find myself outside the local bookstore at ten, when they open.
I wander through the bookshelves looking for the books from the list I made. I only find one, because it’s a small bookstore and many of the new releases I like to read don’t make it into the store unless I special order them. Normally I can kill an hour in a bookstore easy, but since I’ve been all efficient like, making lists and such, I find I still have time.
I look around, feeling guilty, before I slip into the spiritual section. I don’t really expect to find anything, but it’s become an obsession. So I scan the titles looking for books about angels. I notice someone has joined me in the aisle, but I don’t look up to acknowledge them. Wasilla is one of those small, large towns and I’ve got a pretty famous face lately. I shouldn’t be in this section, in public. I don’t need to add fuel to the rumors.
“Looking for anything specific?” a deep voice asks.
I shake my head, probably a little too quickly, too long, still not looking at the newcomer. “I’m just browsing,” I say. “Killing time.” I turn, angling away from him as I run a finger over the spines of the books and move further down the shelf.
It isn’t until I turn the corner that my curiosity gets the best of me and I glance over my shoulder covertly. I see a flash of perfect, snow white feathers skim the top edge of the bookcase as the would-be assistance giver, an angel apparently, vanishes from the section. “Wait!” I call out, far too loudly for a bookstore, or any store for that matter.
I chase after him and round the end of the bookcase in time to just catch another quick glimpse of pure whiteness dipping around the wall at the front of the store, towards the exit. I race to catch up and get a bewildered look from the boy behind the counter.
I drop the book I am holding on a display table, so as not to add shoplifting to my long list of reasons to hide my face in public, and burst out of the store. I stumble left, in the direction I saw the wings exit. There is a small maze of twists and turns that I follow, only catching sight of the tips of feathers long enough to know I’m heading in the right direction.
I know I’m being led, but in my limited experience with angels, I’ve come to trust them implicitly. Where ever I end up is probably exactly where I need to be.
I turn another corner and find the hall dead ends. There is no angel here, but at the end is a corkboard with a mess of flyers and advertisements for events and classes. As I approach, a wind kicks up and I spin around to find a door I passed, one leading to the outside, clicking shut.
I consider heading for it, but some sense inside tells me I won’t find anything out there. No angel and not the message it wanted me to find. I turn back to the bulletin board just as a single flyer amidst the chaos of paper settles back against the board, its pull tag ends still fluttering in the breeze that lifted it.
I step closer and see that it is an announcement for a six-week self-defense course that has a new class starting in two weeks. I pluck off one of the tags with the telephone number, dates and website printed in tiny script and shove it in my pocket.
I wander through the bookshelves looking for the books from the list I made. I only find one, because it’s a small bookstore and many of the new releases I like to read don’t make it into the store unless I special order them. Normally I can kill an hour in a bookstore easy, but since I’ve been all efficient like, making lists and such, I find I still have time.
I look around, feeling guilty, before I slip into the spiritual section. I don’t really expect to find anything, but it’s become an obsession. So I scan the titles looking for books about angels. I notice someone has joined me in the aisle, but I don’t look up to acknowledge them. Wasilla is one of those small, large towns and I’ve got a pretty famous face lately. I shouldn’t be in this section, in public. I don’t need to add fuel to the rumors.
“Looking for anything specific?” a deep voice asks.
I shake my head, probably a little too quickly, too long, still not looking at the newcomer. “I’m just browsing,” I say. “Killing time.” I turn, angling away from him as I run a finger over the spines of the books and move further down the shelf.
It isn’t until I turn the corner that my curiosity gets the best of me and I glance over my shoulder covertly. I see a flash of perfect, snow white feathers skim the top edge of the bookcase as the would-be assistance giver, an angel apparently, vanishes from the section. “Wait!” I call out, far too loudly for a bookstore, or any store for that matter.
I chase after him and round the end of the bookcase in time to just catch another quick glimpse of pure whiteness dipping around the wall at the front of the store, towards the exit. I race to catch up and get a bewildered look from the boy behind the counter.
I drop the book I am holding on a display table, so as not to add shoplifting to my long list of reasons to hide my face in public, and burst out of the store. I stumble left, in the direction I saw the wings exit. There is a small maze of twists and turns that I follow, only catching sight of the tips of feathers long enough to know I’m heading in the right direction.
I know I’m being led, but in my limited experience with angels, I’ve come to trust them implicitly. Where ever I end up is probably exactly where I need to be.
I turn another corner and find the hall dead ends. There is no angel here, but at the end is a corkboard with a mess of flyers and advertisements for events and classes. As I approach, a wind kicks up and I spin around to find a door I passed, one leading to the outside, clicking shut.
I consider heading for it, but some sense inside tells me I won’t find anything out there. No angel and not the message it wanted me to find. I turn back to the bulletin board just as a single flyer amidst the chaos of paper settles back against the board, its pull tag ends still fluttering in the breeze that lifted it.
I step closer and see that it is an announcement for a six-week self-defense course that has a new class starting in two weeks. I pluck off one of the tags with the telephone number, dates and website printed in tiny script and shove it in my pocket.
About The Author:
Monica Millard was born and raised in Alaska. She doesn’t own a dog sled team, but has worked in a place where there are buildings with caged exterior doors to keep employees from being eaten by polar bears.Monica’s favorite quote is, “People do not see the world as it is, they see it as they are.” She is not sure who said it but it is a quote that has always stuck with her. She loves to read because it allows her to see the world through someone else’s perspective and experience something she would otherwise never be able to. Sharing that same experience with others through her own writing is a possibility that makes her excited to get out of bed in the morning.
She lives in Wasilla, Alaska with all her critters, some four legged and others that stand on two. She writes Science fiction, fantasy, and Paranormal for young adults.
Giveaway:
Thank you, Lisa!
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