Because angels aren’t just for Christmas, I’m very excited about my latest release with Musa Publishing, Angels and Airheads:
I had great fun creating my off-the-wall angel, Madred, who’s rather different from other angels in his approach to humanity but, like me, he’s a big softie at heart. His mission in my story is to somehow get together long-time friends, Ricky and Jez, even though other angels have tried and failed before him. His job is made even more difficult as Ricky can be a bit … well … emotionally dense and definitely can’t see what to everyone else is obvious.
Ricky and Jez’s situation as good friends was one I could really sympathise with too – as I was friends with the man who became my husband long before it dawned on me he might possibly fancy me and was quite hot too! Like Ricky, I’m a bit slow on the uptake, you see …
Here’s the blurb for Angels and Airheads:
Ricky has been secretly in love with his best friend Jez forever, but he’s never dared confess his feelings because he thinks Jez is too high-class for him. One evening, while sharing a quiet evening with Jez, a mysterious angel, Madred, appears and tries to persuade Ricky to take a chance on love. Too bad Ricky doesn’t believe in angels. Madred is forced to take desperate measures in an attempt to show the reluctant Ricky the truth. When the angel leaves, can Ricky find the courage to declare himself to Jez, and what will happen to their friendship if he does?
And here’s an extract for you:
From the kitchen, Ricky heard the faint clunk of the fridge as Jez closed it, and it was then that everything stopped.
The radio stopped, the sounds from the street outside stopped, including the low hum of cars and buses, the faint chatter of people, and even the hint of the breeze. They all stopped, so all he could hear in the whole of London at that moment was his own breathing. He sprang to his feet at once. “Jez?”
At least he hadn’t gone deaf then; he could hear himself well enough. So what was happening to Jez?
As he turned towards the kitchen, a light flared up in front of him and he raised his hands to his face to avoid being blinded by the sheer brightness. It was weird—whatever it was didn’t diminish. Instead it kept on burning, but not like fire, no, not like fire at all.
“So, you don’t believe in angels?” A voice echoed in the sparkling light, surrounding him with a sense of golden tranquility. Almost as if whoever was speaking was actually singing, but with a kind of melodic harmony Ricky had never heard before. Like a stream in summer. “It’s a good thing we believe in you then, isn’t it?”
Because the strange being’s voice had lifted him off his feet and tumbled him back down on the sofa again Ricky had no immediate answer to that. Besides, there was something else he needed to know that was far more pressing.
He took a deep breath. “What have you done with Jez?”
The being in front of him laughed. As the light took on a softer hue, Ricky could see the shape of a man within it, though with something rather odd about him.
“No need to worry,” the man said. “Jez is perfectly all right. The only reason you can’t hear him is that I’ve stopped time. Oh and, by the way, my name’s Madred. I’m your guardian angel. Your fifth, to be precise.”
“Fifth?” Ricky swung his legs round on the sofa and pushed himself upright. “What are you talking about? Stop saying crazy stuff. Nobody can stop time. Look, I don’t care who you are or what kind of game you think you’re playing, but my advice is to get out and leave us alone.”
The man calling himself Madred laughed again and, at the same time, the light he was somehow producing dimmed. Ricky gasped and stared. The bloke definitely had wings. And not delicate gossamer ones either. These wings were made up of great quivering feathers, in a myriad of colors Ricky had seen and some he had not: deep green; sea-blue; yellow; orange; red; and everything else in between. They began at Madred’s shoulders—lean but muscular—and ended somewhere around his ankles. They looked as if they could pack a fair wallop too, should the need arise; more psychotic swan than baby duckling. Just in case, Ricky took a step back as he really wasn’t that brave.
It was then Ricky realized Madred was naked. Not a scrap of clothing on him. How the hell he’d managed to walk the streets of downtown Muswell Hill to get here without being mugged, or worse, was anyone’s guess. This planned evening of chilling was not going at all how Ricky had hoped.
Madred frowned and glanced downwards.
“Oh, so sorry,” he said. “I forgot the clothes. I knew there was something.”
With a rustle and a swoosh, the wings swept forward and covered Madred’s modesty. Though, to be honest, in the brief glimpse he’d had of the man’s physique, Ricky didn’t feel that modesty was the word he was looking for at all.
“Is that acceptable now?” Madred asked, once everything was suitably covered up.
Again, unsure exactly what response was needed, Ricky simply nodded.
“Good. Then we’ll begin …
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