If you read The Last Guardian and need more, Joan Hazel's new book has arrived. We're featuring an excerpt from Burdens of a Saint today on Fresh Pot of Tea:
But before we read the excerpt, what is the book about?
When Janet Beesinger writes the words in red on her calendar, she has no idea what they mean. But, as a psychic, she knows when the universe gifts you with personal information, you listen. How was she to know the Universe meant an irritating and sexy shape-shifter who would challenge everything about her life?
Saint Wolfe can feel the gravity of his arrangement with the goddess Hel closing in around him, forcing him to confront his past and the betrayal of the woman he was to marry. Needing to make peace with his past, he returns to New Orleans in search of forgiveness, only to be confronted by his own immortality. His only hope for atonement lies in the hands of a woman claiming to be a psychic. Will she be able to help Saint find salvation before his debt to Hel comes due?
And here is the wonderful excerpt:
Fergus pushed away from the wall. With whirlwind speed, he flipped Ghost sideways, and without losing momentum, Fergus shoved Ghost above his head. Walking toward a window, Fergus paused in contemplation.
"Don't just stand there!" CJ yelled to Saint. "Do something!"
Saint hated to admit it, but he was torn. The storm between Fergus and Ghost had been brewing for quite a while, and frankly, he was tired of playing the peacemaker between the two of them.
His logical side said to stop them. It was the right and proper thing for him to do. Yet his illogical side told him to let the pair fight it out. Whatever troubled them needed to be brought out in the open, even if it meant they tore each other limb from limb. After all, they were shape shifters and would heal. The furniture, on the other hand, had taken enough punishment.
With more calm than he actually felt, Saint crossed the battle-torn room. "Let him go, brother." Saint spoke in even tones.
"Not until this dirty, little fice learns his place," Fergus grunted.
“Are you ever going to come into the twenty-first century? Really, who says fice anymore?” Ghost asked nonchalantly, which seemed rather odd, considering his present predicament.
“I say fice because that is what you are, a small, snappy, contemptuous little mongrel. No other word fits quite as well,” Fergus answered.
"Your words mean nothing to me," Ghost spat. "I’m tired of standing in the shadow of the big badass Fergus Wolfe. Ass being the important word in that sentence."
Fergus lifted Ghost higher above his head. "Bastard!”
"Ora basta!" Saint commanded in Italian. “That’s enough.”
Ghost thinks only Fergus uses antiquated words. He has no idea the words I want to use, Saint thought. Even though the battle between his brothers had pushed Saint beyond his breaking point, he remained the epitome of composure.
He placed a calming hand on Fergus's arm. "You know you don’t want to do this."
"By the gods, I want nothing more," Fergus spat.
Saint noted that neither Fergus's voice nor his body showed the strain of holding a fully grown man above his head. After nearly three hundred years, Saint was still amazed by his brother's strength and control.
"Then do it!" Ghost barked. "Throw me out like the garbage you think I am."
Joan Hazel has written three novels that range from paranormal fantasy to contemporary to historical fiction. An accomplished actress and vocalist, she has performed with companies across the eastern United States. In her spare time, she plays with a colorful cast of characters who live in her head. She currently resides in DeLand, Fla., with her husband, Ricky, and their two fur kids.