Release Date: March 4, 2013
Fascinated with ancient civilizations, seventeen-year-old Mia Crawford dreams of becoming an archaeologist. She also dreams of wings—soft and silent like snow—and somebody trying to steal them.
When a horrible creature appears out of thin air and attacks her, she knows Michael Fontaine is involved, though he claims to know nothing about it. Secretive and aloof, Michael evokes feelings in Mia that she doesn’t understand. Images of another time and place haunt her. She recognizes them—but not from any textbook.
In search of the truth, Mia discovers a past life of forbidden love, jealousy and revenge that tore an angel from Heaven and sent her to an early grave. Now that her soul has returned, does she have a chance at loving that angel again? Or will an age-old nemesis destroy them both?
Ancient history is only the beginning.
Praise for The Watcher:
Excerpt From The Watcher
He pulled the car over to the side of the road and parked it. A heavy silence grew between us. The rain thrummed against the roof of his car and my heart stuttered anxiously against my ribs, like a hummingbird flapping its tiny wings.
He took a deep breath and his voice was thick when he said, “If I misled you…”
My heart stopped, and I blinked at him as heat filled my face. He hadn’t misled me. The feelings I had for him were one hundred percent my own doing. I should have known better.
“I’m not available,” he continued, “the way you want me to be.”
What did he mean, the way I wanted him to be? Any way I could be with him would be fine. Anything was better than not speaking at all. And then the pieces came together: gorgeous and unavailable. He had a girlfriend. Oh God! Why hadn’t I seen the signs before? He didn’t flirt with anyone because he was in love with someone else.
Not caring about the rain, I opened the door and dashed out of the car.
Michael caught up with me and grabbed my arm. I pulled it away.
“It’s wet,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”
Tears burned my eyes, making me grateful for the heavy rain that washed them away, cooling my skin. “I’ll walk.”
“Come on,” he said, “don’t be foolish. You’ll catch a cold.” A wet strand of hair clung to my face. He brushed it aside, so gently, and a deep current trembled through me, compelling me toward him. It was all I could do to hold my ground. His eyes widened and he stepped back. In that moment, I knew he felt it too.
I glared at him. How dare he touch me? Why did he care? Why did he pay attention to me at all?
He shook his head sadly. “Mia, I’m…”
Taken. I know. I shook my head, not wanting to hear any more, and there was this look he gave me, a mixture of pain and something else—something forbidden—that made me want to kiss the rain from his lips.