One of the perks of having a sister who is also a writer, is that she lets me read her books before their officially debut… Well, sometimes she does if I ask her over and over and over. I kept asking about Shards and finally she gave in…
The thing about this book is I kinda feel like its proud aunt. I had almost nothing to do with its creation (besides the prodding “Hey, Kit. When are you going to finish that angel book?”) and I’m not responsible for it at all, but I’m more than willing to show it off and take full credit for its awesomeness. Years ago when I read the first draft, I was blown away by how intrigued I was with the world Kit was creating. Truth is, I love a good romance like its nobody’s business (Don’t even get me started on Emma and Captain Hook) and my sister has occasionally teased me about this fact but she had me read Shards because she wanted my opinion on the romantic aspects of the book. Needless to say I gave her a big thumbs up and then anxiously waited for years for her to finish her novel.
Shards walks that line between Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance in a way that appeals to fans of either genre. It has action, it has romance, and it has an amazingly squished together Angel/Greek/Norse/Etc. fantasy element that weaves together so well that I can’t tell where the research stops and Kit’s ideas begin (in that good way that draws you into a world that you totally buy into). Eva Martinez is just trying to finish her religious studies degree before her mom guilts her into coming home, when Michael saves her life. There’s definitely a spark between them, but Eva needs to focus on her studies and upcoming trip to research her thesis. Turns out Michael knows a lot about her major, but there’s a lot he’s not telling her too. Will Eva discover the truth about herself before it’s too late? Guess you’ll have to read to find out…
Shards will be coming out December first and will be available from Turtleduck Press. I can’t wait to hear what you think!
I wake myself up coughing. I’m lying on my back and there’s something heavy on my chest: a small pile of stones that shift with my breath. One of my feet is twisted beneath me. Light sifts down through tumbling dust. I remember that I fell, can’t tell how deep.
Raising myself on my elbows, I come to a seated position and move the debris trapping my right foot. Flexing it makes me wince a little, but I can move it. On my wrists and knees, I navigate the rock slide, find cool mosaic tile beneath the rubble, the floor of the cathedral.
I clear a spot and rest for a moment, closing my eyes. My heartbeat seems to fill the darkness. I hope Decker and the kids didn’t see me fall.
There’s a lump in my back pocket, and I remember my phone. It didn’t have service when I first woke up, back at home, but I brought it along anyway. Now the screen is cracked and I can’t read the time. Could be hours I’ve been out or just a few minutes.
Something skitters, and I sit up straight. My knees and the rubble around me are dim shapes. If there’s a rat down here, I won’t be able to see it until it’s on me.
For my entire eighteen years I have known nothing but the solid grit of rock. Cast in stone for all my life, I live in the shadows of a world that knows nothing of my kind. They paint us as gargoyles. Concrete monsters, with horns and teeth. Creatures of the night, but that is not what we are. We are the gatekeepers. We safeguard the Souls drifting between the here and away. I don’t know what’s beyond this life on Earth, but I know I am to keep humans moving past it when they die.
For a rock, I have the grace of a falcon. Horns and fangs are actually feathers and skin that is all silk and slate. My perch is at the top spire of a sacred church. I was placed here because I was born here, and I’m sworn to protect the souls brought here after death.
The stone angels are more like shepherds with wings and at night, when the resting souls are vulnerable, we keep them from the Vultures who would lead them Underground to feed their kin. Like I said, I don’t know what’s beyond, but I do know what’s below. It’s no place for a Soul. So I fly, and keep my sheep safe from the darkness of a Vulture’s wing.
This night will be darker than most. Moonless and cloudy, the sky is a soup of vapor and sounds dampened by fog. My knees scrape the edge of the church’s dormer.