Kismet's Angel

ISBN Digital: 978-1-61217-944-5
ISBN Print: 978-1-60154-702-6
Page Count: 348
Word Count: 90253
Rating: Spicy(PG13)
MSRP: 7.00

Raised by a ragtag group of tender-hearted sailors in 19th century Hyderabad, Antoinetta Manu has grown into a woman determined to sail her own course in life. But when her past and future collide with terrifying results, only one man can set her free.

American merchant Darian St. Clair has come to India to find out the truth about the death of his stepfather's only child. What he finds is a woman he cannot live without.

Spanning two continents and two realms, Kismet's Angel is the story of two extraordinary mortals, one determined goddess, and a destiny that only true love can fulfill...

(Pages 248) Spicy


With a sigh of disapproval, she signaled Darian to her side, near an oaken barrel filled with clear water. "Has anyone explained this to you?" Her sweeping hand encompassed the fallen men, the paper lanterns, and finally, her red-powdered self.

"Daya said this was the Hindi festival of fire," he replied. "And Ahmed told me a charming story about a demoness burned alive. Something I must remember to tell my children one day."

Lashes shuttered her eyes as she dipped a wooden basin into the barrel. "You have children?"

"No. No wife, no children." Nor did he want to discuss his home life. Not when her background held more sway over the coming days. "I'd like to know more about you. Is Ahmed your only family?"

A pile of muslin rags sat near the barrel and she dipped one into her basin, and then wrung out the excess water. "Everyone you see here is family. Daya and Uthman, Ali, Nadir, Hassan." She handed him the rag and repeated the procedure with another muslin scrap. "I have more guardians than a royal princess."

Did she know? He bent to study her expression, but she buried her face in the muslin and began dabbing away the colored streaks.

When she finally dropped the cloth, she frowned. "You're not cleaning your shirt. Here."

She took the cloth from him and stepped closer. Grabbing a fistful of linen in one hand, she dabbed gently at his chest with the rag. Damp fabric separated her fingertips from his bare skin. His heart skipped and the blood sizzled in his veins. Cinnamon and vanilla surrounded him. Sweet Christ, did she have any idea the effect her nearness had?

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