Ella
Davies, is focused, independent, and driven. Her hard work is finally paying
off and she is on the brink of great success. But what no one knows is that her
frantic drive is born not from a desire to succeed, but from a need to forget –
forget her past, forget her guilt, and mostly, forget the tragedy that changed
her life forever.
Ella’s
strategy seems to be working but on Christmas Eve she meets Cohen, a strange
man with an even stranger purpose. Cohen catapults Ella back through time and
forces her to confront not only her own pain, but the pain of those long since
passed. In the process, Ella learns about courage and compassion and that in
the darkest hour, no one is ever alone.
Tagline
Sometimes finding peace means finding a difference
perspective.
Author Bio
Janet Halling discovered her love of writing at the age of
six when her story of a lonely duck won a first grade writing contest. She has
a BA in Marketing Communications and lives with her family in northern Utah
where she is currently working on her next novel.
An Unexpected Angel –
Excerpt (All rights reserved)
Somewhere there was a rhythmic
humming—a kind of a swooshing sound that increased and decreased in volume at
regular intervals. She couldn’t remember where she was. Her whole body ached,
and her head felt as if it would explode.
Ella groaned and opened her eyes.
She was still in the gym, lying crumpled against the weight machine. The
treadmill had stopped, and the rhythmic sound was coming from the man riding
the spinning bike, which sat nearby.
Her fingers trembled as she felt
the goose egg on the side of her head. Her face was on fire, probably scraped
on the belt, and her knees were bloody, also from the belt.
Suddenly she stiffened. There was
a man riding the bike! A man riding the
bike. While she had been lying there unconscious. Had he just sauntered in
and climbed on without seeing her at all or had he viewed her inert form
without concern? That was cold, even for New York City. Gingerly, she turned
her head to look at him.
It was the clerk from the deli,
and he didn’t stop pedaling as he glanced her way. “Oh good, you’re awake.”
She stared up at him in mute
astonishment.
He reached for his water bottle
and took a long drink. “I’m glad you woke up on your own,” he said pleasantly.
“I was about ready to pour this in your face, so you can thank me for sparing
you an unexpected shower.”
Ella grasped the weight machine
and pulled herself slowly to a sitting position. Her head was throbbing, and
her stomach lurched. “I could sue you for failing to come to the aid of an
injured person,” she snapped rather feebly.
The man studied her
contemplatively. “Hmmm, yes, you would think of that, wouldn’t you? But I’m not
too worried, Ella. You’re not going to sue me and we both know it.”
She opened her mouth to snarl a
retort but stopped abruptly. “How do you know my name?” she demanded. “And what
are you even doing here? You don’t live in this building.” She hesitated,
realizing she wasn’t sure. “Do you?”
He jumped off the bike and held
out his hand. “You should get up. Want help?”
She shrank away from him. “Don’t
touch me! Who are you, and how do you know my name?”
“Well, it’s simple really. My
name is Cohen, and I’m your guardian angel.” He broke into a brief but rapid
tap dance routine and finished with flair. And with jazz hands.
Ella stared at him in perplexed
silence, unsure if he was a hallucination or just crazy. “Uh-huh. Right,” she
finally said, groaning as she pulled herself to her feet. A wave of nausea hit
her, and she stopped, doubling over and willing herself not to vomit. She for
sure had a concussion.
She
tried to think. Should she go to the hospital? Or maybe just go home and try to
sleep? She didn’t know. She made a move toward the door, but Cohen tap-danced
over to block her path.
“Get out of my way,” she snapped
at him with more bravado than she felt.
He grinned. “Can’t do that. You
and me, we have business tonight.”
For the first time, she felt a
small dart of fear. Cohen wasn’t exactly menacing, but he certainly was
strange. If he attacked her, would she have the strength to fight him? If only
her head would stop hurting!
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I already told you, I’m your
guardian angel. Well, not technically an angel, but that word will serve as
well as any other. Anyway, I’m here to help.”
“Sure. Like you helped me when I
was unconscious a minute ago? If that’s your kind of help, no thanks.”
“No, not that kind of help, silly.”
“Look, whatever you’re on,
whatever you’re offering, I’m not interested. Just leave me alone, please? I’m
sore and tired, and my head is killing me. I need to go lie down.”
“Oh, right. That.” He made some sort of vague gesture and instantly her nausea
subsided and the pain in her head vanished.
Chills raced up and down her
spine, and she stared at him, “Wait . . . what’s . . . what’s going on?”
“Okay, no more joking around.”
Cohen looked suddenly serious. “Here’s the deal. You need help and there’s a
lot you need to learn. Only you’re far too stubborn to admit it. You might not
even know how much help you need. But I know; so here I am.”
The pieces were starting to fall
into place. “Wait . . . Christmas Eve . . . guardian angel. This is some kind
of a joke, right?” she said before adding sarcastically, “What’s the matter,
Jacob Marley was busy? Clarence already got his wings? Or wasn’t he on duty tonight?”
He grinned. “Both good men. But
you got stuck with me. Although, all things considered, maybe it’s me who got stuck with you. You can be quite unpleasant, do you
know that?”
Ella snorted derisively. “So when
does the Ghost of Christmas Past show up? Or is he waiting for me upstairs?”
“Dickens took some liberties. It
doesn’t exactly work like that. At least, this time it won’t.”
“You have exactly one second to get out of my
way or I’m going to start screaming at the top of my lungs!”
Cohen cocked his head to one side
and gave her a brief shrug of resignation. “Okay then, you win. Can’t say I
didn’t try.” He stepped smoothly to one side and swept his arm in a wide arc
toward the door. “Be my guest.”
Throwing him what she hoped was a
withering glare, Ella marched past him, flung open the door—and stepped into a
nightmare.
The Work of Writing
by Janet K. Halling
An Unexpected Angel
was accepted for publication over a year ago but I waited more than six months
to break the news. A year is a long time and the publishing world can be
finicky; I wanted to be sure it would actually happen. Since then, I have
received a lot of amazing support and have also been asked a lot of questions.
The most common question I get is about the writing process and how it works.
So here’s what I know, based on my experience and conversations with other
writers.
I think a common misconception about writers is that we only
write when inspiration strikes. Then we become like Jo March in Little Women, hunched like gargoyles in
drafty attics amid mountains of crumpled papers while our ink-stained fingers
scribble furiously, desperately attempting to keep up with the ideas that flow
from our heads like a spigot.
Well...yes. Sometimes it can be that way. And when it is,
it’s awesome. But most of the time, it’s a slog. Those moments of inspiration
are what every writer dreams about, but for every ten minutes of thrilling creativity,
there are usually hours and hours of plain, hard work.
THAT part of writing is meticulous research, ruthless
editing, and lots and lots of time spent thinking.
Does the story make sense? Would this character really behave this way? Is this
the right word or can I think of a better one? Story arc...Plot
holes...Grammar...Punctuation!! And we
probably spend more time than we like to admit thinking, “Oh crap! How do I get
my characters out of this situation?”
THAT part of writing is not glamorous, but it is the part
that takes you from a fleeting idea to a finished manuscript. And THAT part of
writing is what allows you to hold your published book for the first time and
feel...enormous satisfaction.
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