Be sure to check out the next stop at The Wormhole tomorrow!
About the Book
Jess denies God. In his infinite wisdom, he's taken everyone she's ever loved. Moving to the French Quarter was a ploy to erase the guilt she felt for rebuking her faith. Perhaps, if she hadn't met Justin, an angel preoccupied with getting back into God's good graces, and drowning in his hatred for humanity, her plan would have worked.
Justin's general disdain for the human race makes him difficult to like, but some higher power has appointed him her keeper. Justin's convinced he can mend her broken relationship with her maker, but in the process he learns a thing or two about his own humanity.
Never mind falling in love, that's not supposed to happen. In fact, it may even be forbidden. Jess just wants Justin to understand her plight, and he wants to protect her from a world she doesn't know.
If neither are equipped to save the other, then whose soul will live and whose will perish
Here is a brief excerpt from The Keepers for your enjoyment!
He hadn’t heard her name ‑ not yet. She'd wandered in from the rain shaking an umbrella and trying to look aloof. It had taken Vi less than ten minutes to engage her in conversation, and once Vi hooked the girl, they sat together for the rest of the evening. Vi had been his friend for years, and she could unfailingly be counted on in these matters. They often found the same people intriguing, and he knew she would befriend the newcomer.New Orleans was a sea of appealing women with pleasing accents flowing from pretty lips, but there was something about this girl’s beauty, something that kept Justin’s eyes planted on her. She caught him gawking at her, and he didn’t bother to look away. Humiliation was just another useless human emotion he wouldn't even pretend to possess.Rory wanted to introduce himself, but Justin vetoed the plan with a look of warning. Luckily, his brother seemed more interested in Vi and sat down again with an easy grin. Justin was entirely relaxed until Dawson placed himself at their table begging for a fight. Dawson could always be relied on to kill a good mood.His Mohawk was tapered into precise points atop his head, and that alone made Justin want to punch him.“What’s the matter Justin? Rory baggin’ all the babes or did someone shoot your dog?” The smell of tobacco and wet hair gel clung to Dawson like a disease. Only the fact that he had lost the ability to stave off the odor of humanity, made him less annoying.Justin didn’t respond. Maybe if he ignored the moron he would take the hint and buzz off. Besides, he couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty with Vi, and Dawson’s gaze followed his. “Ah, I see. You know she’s off limits.” Dawson leaned in closer, and used his foot to jolt Justin’s boot from the chair next to him.“Don’t touch me again, Dawson. And drop it. She’s human in case you haven’t notice.”“A human I bet I’ll take home tonight.” Dawson’s sardonic grin dripped with conceit and punctuated the dramatic wink he granted Justin.Justin slid his palms together as the skin over his knuckles hardened into stone. He allowed Dawson to gloat long enough to take a sip from his drink, and then laid him out with one colossal blow. He didn’t bend over to say all the things he was thinking; he figured the black eye would say it all. The girl was watching, and Justin nearly felt ashamed, but she was just another human, and he wasn’t going to concern himself with what bothered her. Not now anyway.
About the Author
Monique is the mother of two beautiful children and lives in a small community outside of Baton Rouge, Louisiana. She currently works full time as an insurance agent, but her favorite jobs are mother, wife, and author.
On her eighth birthday, her mother bought her a journal and said "write whatever you want, just write". And so, a love affair with words was born. She wrote poetry and short stories in high school and college, until 1993 when her mother was diagnosed with breast cancer.
After her mother's death in 1998, deep in depression, she found herself unable to write. Nine years passed, and only on rare occasion did she attempt to write.
Finally, in 2007, under the urging of friends, she sat down and pecked out her first novel. It was raw and unpolished, but the process had been unquestionably cathartic. The next three years were spent filling her hard drive with seven complete manuscripts.
At the beginning of 2011, Monique decided it was time to edit the work and share it with the world. She hopes you enjoy the ramblings of a truly southern girl raised in a state rich with heritage and love.