The Saving Angels Series continues…
A new cast is introduced, while journeys already taken start to merge with the present, leading you down the old Red Dirt Road.
Death has always seemed just one step behind Layla Hill, taking almost everyone she’s ever loved. After she loses the love of her life, Layla vows to never love again—how could she, when she’s a death magnet?
Trying to outrun fate traveling with her uncle Willie and his band, Layla meets Michael Roberts, a beautiful Irish boxer as gentle on the piano as he is brutal in the ring. He proves as relentless in life, fighting for a place in her world even as she pushes him away, trying to protect him from her killer tendencies.
But neither foresees the sinister presence waiting for Layla at the end of the Red Dirt Road.
I concentrated on the sound of the water rushing back and forth. Back and forth. It seemed to be giving me strength. My tears finally ebbed, but I couldn’t move. I rested my head against the sand and covered my body in the flag, which was all I had left of my husband. A symbol of what he died for.
My teeth were chattering and my body was convulsing from the cold, but it was keeping me numb, making the horrendous pain nothing but a dull pulse in the background.
I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I woke up, I was lying in a crimson pool of blood that saturated my white lace dress and the flag draped over my body.
I locked my eyes with the sky and spoke through clenched teeth, directing all my pain and sorrow at the universe…
It’s time that you take me. I’m the one you want! You have my mother, my father, my husband, and now my child! I’m right here! I have no one else to give to you. It’s me that you want—it was always me. Take me! Take me! I screamed.
And I realized in that moment that for the rest of my life, I could never love another man. I could never become close to another person, because I was a death magnet. The deaths that I had experienced were all my fault, and no one was safe with me around.
I vowed, while lying in a pool of my own blood, that I would never love again.
For lagniappe (a little extra), a virtual cup of café au lait and beignets, please visit Annie’s website. She can also be found on Facebook & Twitter.
Born and raised in New Orleans, Annie has a habit of shortening her words and telling long stories. She speaks with a southern flair and cooks with it too. At the tender age of twenty- one, she hitched up her wagons (took her first plane ride) and moved out west to the big shake (California). Her writing career began one sleepless night when she imagined a gorgeous woman and a man with maniacal hair floating above her like lightening bugs falling from the sky. Curious about them, their story, and why they were floating around in her head, she sat down and penned (typed) her first novel, Marigny Street. A dream come true for her, she hasn’t stopped writing since. She loves a damn good love story, always has, no matter what the genre. She is particularly moved by imperfect love that in its own unique way is perfect, the notion of love at first sight, soul mates, and things that are generally out of the norm.
When she’s not writing she enjoys dabbling in photography and finding new, inspirational music to add to her collection. She currently (still) resides in the big shake (although her southern roots are calling her home) with her husband, daughter, and their two peculiar dogs, Boudreaux and Tabasco (who, call her crazy, bark with an accent).
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