I am pleased to welcome Danielle here today for not only an interview, but to also tell us more about her new release Cassiela book two in the Abbey of Angels series. So show her a warm welcome.
Danielle welcome to Madsheep Reading:
1.From the book which is your favourite character? and why?
If I had to choose just one, I’d say Azrael. He’s hot, for starters. *grins* The man can brood like nobody’s business and when he pouts… *swoon* But really, he’s fierce, sweet and loves Cassiela more than anything. And the way the man looks in jeans? It’s indecent, and should be illegal
2.Is there a favorite genre of books that you love to read and write?
I love to read Paranormal Romance or Urban Fantasy. However, I do have an abiding affection for erotic romance. Mr. Grey, anyone?
3. If you could send a letter of advice to your younger self what would it say? And why?
Hmm… Good one. I would say slow down, don’t settle for the first option and enjoy life to the fullest; it will get hard soon enough
4. What is your inspiration/muse while you are writing?
When I’m writing, I usually let the character of the moment drive and inspire me. We pick whatever music suits their mood and the scene, and then we’re off to the races.
Some characters prefer more hardcore music while others would rather more soulful, bluesy stuff. It’s all about personality, mood and setting. A battle scene isn’t something that merits the sultry sounds of Adele, for example. Those get written to Breaking Benjamin or Apocalyptica. Sex scenes are almost always to the tune of Nickelback. Those boys can write sex into their songs like nobody’s business. Hard not to be inspired by that kind of stuff.
5. What are your habits when you sit down to create? Do you have a certain room or place where you go?
I typically tend to create in what I call “The Batcave”, aka my office. If there’s too much going on in the living room, which is directly beside the batcave, I will go write in my bedroom. The great thing about working from a laptop is the flexibility it gives me. I can go anywhere I want to with it and still get what needs doing accomplished.
6. Have you made any mistakes along the way?
Haven’t we all made mistakes here and there? I think the key is learning from them and not repeating the behavior. For example, after the first release of Ardeur, I learned that a good editor is paramount.
No matter how many times you read, revise and self-edit, it’s never enough. You need someone else to cast an objective eye over it and point out the areas that require improvement, and the technical flaws as well. Someone who will hack and slash your baby to bits and say “Here. Now make it better.” And you will, because you want that book to be the best it can be so that readers enjoy it as much as they can.
7. What do you like to do in your down time?
I get downtime? Really? Well jeez. I think I missed that all important memo. *grins* Kidding. When it comes to relaxing, I like to fiddle with book cover designs, pay with my kids, bake, listen to music, watch tv (when I can wrestle the remote free of the kids) and sleep. My favorite? Hands down – sleep. One can never, ever have too much of that in my opinion.
8. Do you have a work in progress you would like to share with us?
Now that I’ve finished Cassiela, Book 2 if the Abbey of Angels series, I’m working on the next book – as well as a novella based on Brody’s life before he found, and reunited, with Ardeur. There are a few other little projects up my sleeves but I’m keeping them top secret for now. You’ll have to wait and see. *winks*
So lets find out more about the books and how you can stalk the author:
Ardeur By Danielle Gavan Book 1 Abbey of Angels Born a necromancer… Sold by parents who wanted a normal child, Ardeur Lisle now hosts a demon and was trained to be a killer for hire. As an adult possessed, dreaming of escape and of a kind face from her childhood helps keep her sane. If she breaks free from her captors, what will this new world full of paranormal beings hold for her? Ridding herself of her demon parasite will be her first priority. A promise kept... Brody Callaghan never forgot the angelic blonde from his childhood. After years of military service, he swears to track down the face still haunting him from his youth. But Brody has a furry secret of his own; one unveiled with each full moon. Will the two hold onto love with danger, deception, and an obsessed angel driving them apart?
I woke up to the sound of birds chirping on my windowsill and moved to slide out of bed to shut the window. The sharp pain in my temple and the thick feeling of my tongue when I pried it from the roof of my mouth were the first indications that something had gone down while I was sleeping. You got out again, didn't you? How are you doing this?
Shadekar's snide laugh slid like oil through my head and made me wince. “Nice jammies you've got there, Sister Mary Floozy Pants.”
“Jammies? What?” My eyes turned to look downward, and I jumped at the sight of the yards and yards of pristine white cotton that covered me from the buttoned collar at my throat to the frilly trim that dangled over my toes. “How in the hell did I get into this? I know you sure as hell didn't put me in it.” I fisted my hands in the soft fabric and looked around for clues as I pulled the nightgown off and threw it in the garbage bin. “What the hell?”
My bottom was covered in the most modest pair of underpants I had ever seen. They covered me from the top of my thighs to above the dip of my belly button with even more of the virginal white cotton. The crowning insult of the entire outfit was the matronly brassiere that had my chest in a strangle hold, the likes of which none of the bras I'd ever been forced to wear could compare with.
“Ooh, baby. Now that is some sexy shit there, Blondie.”
Shade, shut up. This is your fault. Who the hell did this to me?
A pair of dark blue eyes under a fringe of unruly black hair played behind my eyes and I groaned. Shade let me see Azrael carrying my sleeping form back to my room, wave his hand over me to change the outfit I'd had on to the one I'd woken up in before he put me in bed and left quietly.
It took me all of five minutes to get dressed, brush my teeth and run down the hall. I knew that Rae would be in his office by now. I threw the solid oak door open without knocking in my hurry to find out just what he'd seen while Shade had been in control. “Rae, what the hell hap…?”
My sentence stopped abruptly as I skidded to a halt behind a tall man with cropped brown hair and the widest shoulders I'd ever seen. “Oh, sorry. You have company - I'll come back later.”
Rae leaned over to peer around his guest and smiled when he saw me. “Afternoon Ardy, nice to see you're wearing more than what I last saw you in.” He waved at one of the chairs in front of his desk. “You might want to stick around. I think you know my guest - Brody?”
The big guy turned and I looked up into a pair of eyes I'd thought never to see again. There they were, the eyes I'd seen in my dreams every night and the dimples - oh, God. He still had the dimples and the roguish smile that had charmed me even at the tender age of six.
My right hand trembled and it rose to dart out and touch the solid chest that was level with
my face. “Oh, shit. You're real.”
Brody's laugh at my comment was rich, husky and warm like the whisky that I had the night before. His own hand, so much bigger and more tanned than my own pale one, came up and caught mine before I could snatch it back. “I'm real and damn happy to have finally found you, again.”
“Again, what?” I looked up at him, confusion clouding the blue of my eyes. “You found me before?”
Azrael rose from his chair and rounded the hand carved oak desk. “I'll leave you two to catch up. There are a few things I need to, um, yeah. I'm just going to go.”
If either of us heard Rae leave, we showed no sign of it. We stared at each other, mesmerized by the fact that we were finally together again.
“I brought your bag.” Brody held up the tattered and patched up satchel that had carried everything I owned for the last seven years.
It took a moment of confused blinking before I realized what he was talking about and was able to form a coherent thought. “I, um. How did you get it?”
He deposited the bag on the chair next to me and then reached to take my other hand inside of his large one. I couldn't help but look down at our hands and notice the differences between us, the obvious ones and the not so obvious, before I pulled my hands free and stepped back out of touching range. It wasn't because I didn't want him touching me; I just never allowed anyone to touch me, ever.
Brody was dark where I was light, callused where I was soft, and relaxed when I was freaked out despite being thrilled to see him. I opened myself up a bit to taste his energy and what I found had me stumbling back to look up at him, eyes gone wide with wonder. Whatever he was hiding behind the broad shouldered all-American boy looks had eyes that glowed gold when it had looked back at me.
“What are you?”
His eyes flashed gold at my question and then I knew. I felt warm fur brush across my skin and the scents of the forest blew over my senses. “Werewolf?”
“Yep. Just like the rest of my family.” He sat down in the empty chair and smiled up at me before reaching out to take my left hand in his. “Sit with me, please? I'll explain what I meant about finding you again.”
My denim-covered ass parked itself in the chair my bag was in and I pulled my hand from his. I reached back to jockey the bag around so I'd have more room to keep my trembling hands out of Brody's. I took advantage of the distraction to settle my emotions and smooth my frayed nerves before turning around to face him once more. “Okay, explain.”
He leaned forward, elbows on knees and let his hands hang loosely between us. I knew he was giving me the option to take them or not and he was going to be disappointed because I wouldn't, couldn't touch him back. I wanted to, so much, but the fear of rejection ran deep. Shade had been successful in that endeavor. I would never be comfortable with anyone touching me.
“Do you recall much about what happened just before your accident? Maybe someone was
calling out for you to stop?”
I nodded, the events before the BMW slammed into me replayed in my mind.
“That was me. The voice that tried to stop you from running out in front of that car was mine. I'm the one who called the ambulance and took care of you before it arrived. I stood outside the hospital every damned day while you were there, praying to a God that I don't believe in that you'd be okay.” He turned his face up toward mine and caught my eyes with his own golden ones. “If I hadn't had that bag of yours, I'd have never known to go see Dr. Martals or how to find you after you disappeared from the hospital.”
The mention of my doctor's name snapped my attention into focus. I pulled my bag around to my lap and ripped it open in search of the notebook that held the details of my life. It was the only place he could have found information about Celine and - oh, shit. “How much of this did you read?”
He at least had the decency to blush before responding that he'd read most of it and had seen that I'd remembered him throughout the years. “Even my birthdays. Why?”
“You were the only person who was ever nice to me; the only person in twenty five years to show me something other than contempt, disgust or fear.” Brody reached out to take my hand in his and I scooted back in my chair, the wooden legs scraping against the hardwood floor. I stood and hedged toward the door. “I'm sorry, Brody. I've been looking forward to seeing you again since that last time in school but, I can't. I'm too afraid that you'll reject me too once you know what I am.”
The doorknob was in my hand before I knew it and I was out the door, running down the hall without hearing the words that he spoke next.
“I know what you are and I'm okay with it.”
Book 2 Abbey of Angels
Gripped by crazed jealousy, the Angel of Death gave up on his happily ever after, until the day a shy redhead appeared. Could she be the cure Azrael’s madness?
Cassiela is plagued with lustful thoughts of the Angel she’s assigned to guard. Once bitten, Cassie is twice shy from the moment she sets eyes on Azrael. Lost in his dark eyes and easy smile, the Angel of Deliverance finds old hurt and pain coming back to haunt her—in more ways than one.
One Angel will stop at nothing to keep Rae and Cassie from claiming the life they never expected to have. A battle to rival the Great War in Heaven is begun by Rae and Cassiela’s need and love for one another. Will something even they never expected, and are unwilling to give up, turn the earth into a battle ground, and the lovers facing off against the biggest Angel of them all?
My day turned to shit faster than a vampire high on junkie blood. One moment, I was enjoying a quiet cup of lavender tea under an apple tree in the orchard outside my room, the wind lifting the hem of my sundress, flashing my pale knees to anyone near enough to see. The next moment, I stood dressed in dark green, leather warrior gear in an unfamiliar room resembling the aftermath of a nuclear explosion.
“What’s going on? Why am I here and in this outrageous getup?”
Verchiel, the second in command of the Angels of Power, cocked a jet black eyebrow at me. “Hell if I know, Cassiela. The Protector said to fetch the Angels of Deliverance and Silence and get both your asses over here, so voila.”
I surveyed the debris-filled room and its occupants with mild curiosity. The twisted remnants of what appeared to be a bed littered the floor. Tufts of mattress stuffing floated through the air. What in hell had gone on here?
The Angel of Power explained that Metatron, the Angel of Creation, had left moments earlier with another Angel and her werewolf mate in tow. Those left were Zacharael—another Angel of Power, Silence, myself, and one I sensed to be the Angel of Death lying broken in the corner. Silence, my best friend—dressed in gear colored her trademark sooty gray—looked ridiculous in the ill-fitting clothes. I sympathized with the gangly, bookish angel as she fidgeted on the other side of Verchiel.
“But, Silence and I are clerics. Unless you want one of us to write an account of what this room looks like, we’re out of place here.”
The big guy shrugged and, hearing Zacharael call for assistance, turned toward the broken Angel in the corner. A stretcher lay on the floor and, despite his size, Zach was unable to move the injured man alone.
“Come lend Zach a hand, Cassie. You too, Silence. Azrael’s got some nasty injuries and we’ll have to move him with care,” Verchiel said with a sneer on the last word.
I looked over the fallen Angel everyone had been chasing for the last month. A big man, the bulge and lines of his muscles were well defined beneath the shredded clothes and coating of blood covering him from head to toe. Blue eyes blazed from beneath dark brows. Walking over to the corner, I couldn’t help but notice his straight, regal nose above indecently sexy lips—ones that seemed to beg to be kissed.
Crap, what am I doing? I shook my head and sighed as I bent to help move Death onto the stretcher. Remember where the last handsome face got you, Cassie. Remember.
“On three.” Zacharael knelt at the other end of the stretcher and had a hand under each of the Angel’s shoulders. One was clearly dislocated given the odd angle at which the arm sat. “Three.”
Death screamed in pain as we moved his broken body onto the stretcher in fits and starts. Silence and I hadn’t expected Zach to jump straight to three and were late to join the fray when he and Verchiel moved the rest of him over. “Jesus, Zach, a little warning next time would be nice.”
“Why? Azrael deserves whatever he gets, and then some, after what he did to Ardeur.” Zacharael wrapped a hand around one of the handles of the stretcher and motioned for the rest of us to follow suit. “Crazy or not, you don’t tamper with another man’s mate.”
Verchiel chuckled and shook his head as he bent and picked up his own handle. “Up we go, kiddies. Lift.”
The stretcher cleared the floor and I looked down at the empty outline Death’s body left in the
debris. In the blink of an eye, we were in the antechamber of the Angelic Council Chambers.
Azrael lay in a pain-filled world. He’d made breakfast for the exquisite Angel in his bed that morning and spent a pleasant moment chatting with her about the children she was carrying.
All of that had gone straight to hell when his twin, Metatron, showed up with a few of his friends and proceeded to rip his idyllic world apart. The werewolf Tate brought along for the ride had not only broken Azrael’s skull, but had shattered his left femur and dislocated his right shoulder as well. The crazy bastard even had the audacity to growl about Rae’s woman and children being his family.
As if Ardy would ever give herself to a hideous beast; she had him to love her as she deserved and fill her belly with adorable Angel babies.
Insult was added to injury after they whisked his golden beauty away. Zacharael and Verchiel, both Angels of Power, slapped an angelicore collar on him to jam all of the power the gold cuffs they locked on his wrists didn’t block. He was as helpless as the humans they were designed to protect and watch over. Yeah, his life sucked right now.
There he lay, Azrael—the biggest, baddest of the Angels of Death—reduced to a powerless mass of pain on a stretcher in the great hall outside the Court of Angels with Zacharael, Verchiel and two female Angels he couldn’t recall meeting before. They waited for their orders and he waited for his fate to be decided upon.
Azrael understood why the Powers were there; Zach and Verchiel were two of the strongest soldiers amongst their ranks. When it came to reeling in an Angel of Death, especially one as strong him, who better to send than the Powers? What didn’t make sense were the two females present. They weren’t warrior Angels, he was sure of it. The fidgeting in their leathers told him the women weren’t used to wearing warrior gear.
Since moving his eyes was the only thing Rae could manage without causing an avalanche of pain, he studied the others while they watched the ten-foot solid gold doors for signs of movement. The redheaded female with pale green eyes turned to look at the other female Angel. This one stood silent, tight jet black ringlets cascading down her back and citrine eyes focused on the entrance they all waited to pass through.
“What are we waiting for, Zacharael?” said the redhead, still fidgeting. Short, pink oval nails worried the seam of her dark green leather pants and her feet shuffled against the marble floor.
Verchiel sneered and answered instead. “Probably Michael. For one as exalted as he is, the boy has some serious OCD issues.” His amethyst eyes glittered at her. “He’s got a stick up his ass when it comes to making sure all his I’s are dotted and T’s crossed.”
The blush creeping over the skin of the red-haired one was lovely but paled in comparison to Ardeur’s. The color filling the Angel’s cheeks made him want Ardy more. “You shouldn’t speak of the Protector in such a way, Verchiel,” she said.
“Or what? He’ll lob an energy blast at me and sentence me to a century among the humans?” The Angel of Power rolled his eyes and grinned at her. “Please, Deliverance. He can’t afford to lose me and he knows it. Unlike this poor bastard,” Verchiel nudged Azrael’s injured shoulder with the tip of a boot and earned an angry snarl for all the pain the touch sent racing through his battered body. “I’m not replaceable.”
Deliverance? Rae’s eyes swung from the red-haired Angel of Deliverance to what must be the raven-haired Angel of Silence as some of the pieces fell into place. Silence and Deliverance went everywhere together, but why were they there? The two women weren’t warriors or guardians and their presence puzzled him more than anything else.
Deliverance was saved from having to respond by the creak of hinges. The doors to the Court
groaned as they were pushed open by what Azrael knew was a host of cherubim to reveal the seven Archangels seated at the far end. The four who stood guard over him each grasped a corner of the stretcher Rae lay upon and carried it into the bright Court of Angels.
Azrael blinked at the blinding light, which set off sunbursts of pain inside his poor bashed-in head. The damn werewolf cracked his skull when he’d pounded it into the floor. Though the pain in his shattered leg and dislocated shoulder had lessened, it roared back to life with each jostling step toward the fate that Azrael’s brethren believed fit the list of crimes they claimed he committed against one of their own.
The one voice he had hoped not to hear called out from somewhere ahead of the procession, “Bring the offender forward so that he may be healed and sentenced.”
Michael. Damn. The Protector would not go easy on him. Azrael never cared for the arrogant bastard and the sentiment had been more than mutual. It was no wonder the golden boy was there. He’d made it a point to be present whenever Rae’s ass was called on the carpet and, now that he’d committed a laundry list of crimes against one of their own, the bastard showed up to ensure the full letter of their laws was enforced.
Another round of pain shot through Rae when the four who’d been carrying his stretcher put it down without any sense of delicacy. “You assholes best be careful. My Ardy is an Angel of Anger and Wrath. Keep treating me badly and she’ll kick your asses.”
Deafening silence greeted his statement.
“Death appears to have lost his mind, my lords.” Zacharael stepped forward and knelt at the base of the platform where the seven most powerful Angels ruled.
Verchiel snickered next to Deliverance. “More like joined the cast of Loony Tunes. Wiley Coyote’s got nothing on this crazy nut.”
“Please try to remember where you are, Verchiel.” Raphael descended to the floor and knelt by the stretcher. He touched a hand to Rae’s dislocated shoulder and the delicate touch brought on a flinch with the renewed pain it caused. “Rest easy, Azrael. Your pain will lessen in a moment.”
The green glow of Raphael’s healing touch forced Rae’s eyes shut. An intense ache began, akin to someone using his head to scramble omelets. “Where’s Ardeur? Where did you take her? Are my children alright?”
“They are not your children, Death. You are not capable of parentage with Ardeur. It is the nature of our kind; you know my words are truth.”
It served no point to lose his cool in a room filled with some of the most powerful of Angel-kind. Azrael knew they would silence his words without warning and speaking out would only worsen the sentence.
“Wise of you to keep your tongue, Azrael.” Raphael patted the healed shoulder and helped Rae into a kneeling position. He was denied the right to stand and face the room as a peer; his claims of innocence would fall on deaf ears.
Being guilty didn’t prevent him from facing off against Michael with the most insolent and disrespectful look he could muster. “So, Michael, what’s the verdict? A millennium in your service, or maybe eternity as a human? Both would be equally torturous.”
Michael sighed and fixed his sapphire eyes on the stormy blue ones several feet below him. “No, you would enjoy either too much and we are not here to provide you with entertainment. You will be stripped of all power except that which allows you to usher souls. You will only escort those of infants and children.
“Doesn’t sound too bad,” Azrael shrugged with his newly healed shoulder. The smile beginning to curve his lips was cut off by Michael’s next words.
“Tartarus will be shut to you and your rank as ruler there shall be conferred to another more worthy of the role. Your wings will be clipped, their pain a daily reminder of what you inflicted upon
another.” Michael stepped down from the platform and walked a slow circle around the group of lower ranking angels. “You will spend your time between souls confined to the grounds of the Abbey. Silence and Deliverance will be your guards. The portion of soul which you gave to Ardeur has been removed so that you may never find her again.”
His words sparked a deep-seated horror at what they’d done. Michael and his band of toadies had cursed him to the worst kind of fate. “No. Not my Ardy. You can’t take her from me!”
Zadkiel, the most merciful of the Archangels, stood and approached. “You will have plenty of time to reflect on what you have done. See that you learn the error of your ways.”
Tyndle and I exchanged shocked looks at the news of our assignment to watch over the disgraced Angel. It wasn’t difficult for me to read Silence’s reaction.
“My lords, we aren’t warriors. Aren’t there others more suitable to such a task as you have set for Silence and me?”
Michael stood at my side and touched a gentle hand to the dark red curls hanging down my back. He offered a benevolent smile while petting my hair. Too busy wallowing in my own anxiety over the situation, I didn’t notice how creepy the touch felt or that the smile didn’t quite reach the Protector’s eyes. “You have been chosen for a reason, Deliverance. In time, you will learn why. ”
A gentle nudge from my friend forced a sigh from my lips. “As you wish, my lord.”
“Then it is settled.” Michael cupped both of our faces and smiled. “You will guard Azrael day and night for the period of six hundred years and no less.”
I looked down at the Angel of Death and saw the insanity lurking behind the handsome face. “Six centuries?” My knees went weak and a pair of strong arms wrapped around my shoulders before the world went black.
About the Author:
Danielle Gavan lives in Ontario, Canada with her husband and their two sons.
She loves a good book and is usually found with her nose in one. Danielle has an extensive list of them on her book pile. When she's not writing or reading, Danielle keeps herself busy designing book covers and working as a publicist.
Her guilty pleasures are her favorite television shows Lost Girl, Ghost Hunters International and Hawaii Five-0.
Danielle welcomes email and you may contact her at mailto:firstname.lastname@example.org.
When she isn’t writing, Danielle also owns and operates Philia Book Tours – a service designed to help authors promote their books. Philia offers book tours, media kits and custom graphic design.
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