"When Matt and Emily are sent on their second mission they have no idea how truly dark human nature can become...
Emily never wanted to face humans again. With the heartache that went on down below, she's still trying to figure out how to save souls that don't deserve saving. The only one she wants to see again is Jason - the young man she fell in love with who became the soulmate she simply can't forget..
Matt was trained to protect and defend the souls down below. Longing to feel the heartfelt emotions that come from being human, Matt wants nothing more than to have just one life - one chance - to live and love the girl of his dreams...
The powerful team find themselves in a brand new century, living in the Gilded Age of New York City. Emily takes over the body of Anya, a young Russian girl who arrives on Ellis Island after a hideous tragedy. There she meets up with a strangely familiar young man by the name of Drew Parrish, who helps Anya survive in an unknown world of luxury, snobbery and...obsession.
What Anya's inner angel doesn't know is hat the soul she loves is also back. This time around Jason goes by the name of Max Carrow. Once a quiet and kind boy, he's now part of the 'Four Hundred Club,' and wants noting more than to be among the most admired as he climbs the shaky ladder of society's elite.
As two worlds merge, Emily and Matt struggle under the weight of their "Guilded Wings." Not only will they have to figure out who they should fight to save, but they must also face a romantic choice that could destroy them both."
Words from the Author
"Writing is Not a Solitary Profession
A Room of One’s Own is the title of an essay written by Virginia Woolf that basically came from Woolf’s own belief that: ‘a woman must have money and a room of her own, if she is to write fiction.’ Now, in the time period Woolf was speaking in, she was perhaps correct, even though Jane Austen had proven years before (with the help of her father) that a woman could be published if the publisher didn’t know off-hand that the story was written by an actual woman. Woolf’s own father actually played into her belief because he only sent his boys to school, believing that females didn’t need to be educated - they just needed to enter into a good marriage. Woolf stated that for a woman to even have her own room “was out of the question, unless her parents were exceptionally rich or very noble.”
Thankfully, times have changed. Now, we all know that even when we have our own room the kids, spouse, dog, neighbors, etc. knock on that door - and usually right when we have a stellar idea (LOL). But whether the ‘room’ is the laundry room with a laptop hidden in the corner, or a lovely den (which I would kill for) with couches, a fireplace, and a massive lock on the door, our imaginations matter far more than that room.
Many writers will tell you that writing is solitary; it is one career where you’re alone. I have to disagree. The writing, yes, is much more easily done at 2:00 am when the rest of the house is asleep, but as far as writing being a solitary experience, I can’t see it.
The actual creation of the work comes with a lot of alone time and hopefully fast typing, but there are always family members and friends to bounce things off of. They give their opinions about the next twist, the character, the locale, etc., which truly helps the writing process. There are mentors - the people who support us no matter what. There are the cheerleaders who rave about us, the editor who tells us what needs to be cut back, added to or corrected even when we really don’t want to do it. There are publishers, public relations people, an agent, perhaps and the social media world of bloggers, reviewers and fans who create a ‘buzz’ about your writing if they enjoy it…and they’re the really cool ones because they share all kinds of opinions which brings new friends into you life that you never want to lose.
Add in to that group the actual voices in your head that you live with on a daily basis, and see? Writers have a whole ‘team’ that we love, trust and rely upon.
Perhaps if Ms. Woolf had lived in a different time period, or had realized just how amazing her writings were, she would not have fallen into that depression and walked into a river to take her own life. She believed the voices in her head were harmful, but for me those voices are more than helpful. They come from the imagination and I, for one, hope they never, ever stop talking.
So if you head down the ‘writer’s path’ and crave a room of your own (Gosh knows you’ll need one), be sure to remember to open the door sometimes. Because out there waits a really magnificent team!
Until Next Time, Everybody,
Anya had a full day as she got her first real glimpse of the elegant city. She was mesmerized by the glorious fabrics, ornate crystals and jewels that were bigger than those of the Romanov dynasty. She was a bit startled, however, when no prices were given to Hope. Without a word the boxes had been packed, and the shoes and dresses were rolled in tissue paper and placed in Anya's arms with only a smile. The only time payment was even mentioned was when Hope walked out of the stores and yelled back over her shoulder, "Place it on Mr. Carrow's account."
Anya found Hope to be hysterically funny, not to mention extraordinarily gifted when it came to explaining a proper American lady's mannerisms and clothing. She even introduced Anya to a haberdasher, someone who produced hats that were outfitted with feathers and ribbons, adding rainbows of color to her long, dark hair."
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