By: Barbara Ankrum
Series: The Guardian Angel Chronicles
Genre: Contemporary Christmas Romance
Release Date: October 11, 2021
Publisher: Tule Publishing
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Heaven made a mistake. Can one clumsy, rebellious angel right a wrong by Christmas Eve without losing her heart?
Angel Elspeth Aloysious is hidden in celestial clerical work to avoid painful memories when her mentor sends her on her first earthly mingle. Her task—open the closed heart of the handsome and busy Sam Wynter so his daughter can have a new mother before she drifts too far from her destiny. Elle has one week and one rule—don’t fall for Sam.
Sam Wynter has no intention of remarrying. Instead, he’s focused on raising his daughter Molly and building his career. But when he meets a captivating and beautiful stranger in town for the holidays, he rediscovers joy and a sense of fun with Elle through donating his time and skills to those in need. Both Sam and Molly quickly bond with the sparkling Elle, and Sam starts to dream of a different future.
The clock is ticking down on Elle’s time on Earth. Can these two mismatched soulmates, who are worlds apart, find their happy ever after?
Age: Thirty-ish (give or take a century or two)
Date of birth: Who can remember?
Physical Description: I have long blonde hair, I’m on the short side and, on this earthly mingle, I wear glasses, mostly to hide behind. It’s been years since a mirror was necessary, but here, I’m not sure if I’m pretty or plain in mortal terms. Not that it matters. Well, maybe a little.
Occupation: Guardian Angel
3 likes in no particular order: Children, chocolate and long, slow kisses. (In no particular order.)
3 dislikes in no particular order: Working in the Eternal Entry File room, risk and being told what to do.
Drink of choice: Hot chocolate
Favorite food: Chocolate anything
Favorite song: River by Joni Mitchell, and not just because I adore her voice, but because…Christmas and ice skating
Choice of transportation: Winging it might seem obvious, but…ice skates are my new passion.
Favorite way to spend an evening: Sitting by the crackling fire in the newly rehabbed fireplace, with Sam Wynter beside me.
Favorite holiday tradition: Giving gifts, finding the perfect one for the people I love.
Best memory to date: Dancing in Sam Wynter’s arms in front of the whole town.
If you could have a do-over, what would you do differently? I could say that hiding myself away in the Eternal Entry File room for centuries was cowardly or that I should have found a way to forgive myself and taken my chances as a guardian sooner. But then again, I would have missed Sam and his daughter, Molly. I would have missed all this. So, I don’t regret anything. Not one single step of this journey.
What’s something you’ve said you would never do, but in fact have done? I swore I’d never be a guardian. Especially for children (for reasons we will not discuss.) But being Molly’s guardian both broke my heart and healed it in completely unexpected ways. Never say never.
Most romantic gesture (done or received): Sam, pulling me up against him in the car to kiss me, telling me what was in his heart.
Words to live by: “All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust.” J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
Prologue
Two Spins Around the Sun Earlier
“Absolutely not. You know how I feel about this. I won’t do it.”
Elspeth Aloysius resolutely ducked behind the overgrown stack of intakes that covered her Celestial desk, her long blonde hair curtaining her panic. But naturally, her attempt to dodge her mentor, Marguerite Ciel, failed miserably, and in the next instant, Elle felt her standing behind her shoulder. And beside Marguerite was her fuzzy little companion dog, Enoch.
“It’s time. Long past time for you to take a guardianship, cher.” Marguerite’s easy Cajun drawl seemed to have a deliberate edge to it today. “You can’t hide here in the Eternal Entry Files forever.”
“Hide? I am doing no such thing.” But getting to her feet, Elle strode away to do just that in the bowels of the file room—or as confused new arrivals often referred to it, ‘the Cloud’—an endless maze of records, full of twists and turns one could easily lose oneself in, if not careful. Particularly if one wanted to.
“There is a limit to the Council’s patience on this matter, Elle,” Marguerite said, right on her heels and apparently not about to let this go. “And I’m afraid they have reached that limit.”
“But I’m doing my job,” Elle insisted, waving a hand before one of the drawers and transferring an existent history with a simple gesture. “And doing it better than anyone else ever has, I might add. I mean, if you consider how I have upgraded all the systems for—”
“After nearly two Earth centuries at that desk, you are quite correct,” Marguerite said, drumming her fingers against her crossed arm. “And certainly no one is arguing your proficiency at isolation.”
Elle slowed.
Crushing isolation, she meant. Elle supposed that was perfectly clear to anyone who happened to notice her—though, frankly, she was surprised anyone had. She had upgraded herself into near total aloneness here.
And nearly two centuries? Had it been that long already? She supposed she’d lost track. Then again, time passed much, much more quickly here than it did down there. But isolation, as an objective, had never been her intention, rather an unfortunate consequence. She’d certainly tried other Celestial occupations before this one. Assistant to the Celestial Choirmaster . . . along with the unfortunate incident with the irreplaceable bell ringer choir’s bells. But how was she to have known that sitting on one end of that table would send the whole thing crashing upside down, damaging several ancient relics beyond repair? And then there was the Junior Rainbow Instigator job, which didn’t end well either. Something about accidentally deleting indigo and causing an uproar in the Earthly scientific community. But all that happened a long time ago.
“You must understand that you are not the only one capable of filling this position,” Marguerite continued. “Others have requested—”
“I am . . . fine here,” she said, though that was a lie. The endlessness of this work for another few centuries or more was almost too awful to contemplate, but still better than what Marguerite was suggesting.
“You’re lonely here,” the older woman countered, putting her usual finer point on things. Marguerite’s kind brown eyes softened Elle’s anger but did nothing to sway her. “Be that as it may, if I’d wanted to be a guardian, I would have asked to be one at the start. Which I didn’t. It is our right to choose. That’s the rule, isn’t it? I chose a steadier, more predictable path.”
Marguerite sighed. “Path, by definition, implies your journey will lead somewhere. Our purpose here is growth, regardless of which path we choose. This job was never meant to be permanent for you. Nor was it meant to serve as a sanctuary. You forget, cher. I know why you refused a guardianship and chose to stay when so many of the souls you came in with have returned, many times over already, or have moved up in the guardian ranks.”
That much, she could not deny. And to Marguerite’s credit, she had never picked at Elle’s particular wound, but allowed her to try to deal with it on her own. Elle had managed, rather handily, to bury it instead, in the isolation of the files.
She wondered if Marguerite had been secretly watching her scan the life files arriving from the Entry Realm that had snagged her attention like the sparkle of sunlight before she filed them away, wishing that she wasn’t so completely alone.
She dug her fingernails into her palm. I must be slipping to have allowed her such unfettered access.
She stuffed two more files in the nearest cabinet and turned to put more distance between herself and Marguerite. But not before the drawer slammed shut, catching the tips of several wing feathers there, jerking her off her feet.
A yelp of surprise escaped her as she fell, but she quickly tugged her wing out of the cabinet and popped back up. “I’m okay,” she told no one in particular.
Beside her, Marguerite bit her lip, struggling to contain her mirth.
Petting her bent feathers back in place Elle stalked back down the aisle. Add that to her list of technological adjustments: fix meddlesome file drawers.
“Yes, that just happened,” Elle told Marguerite, forestalling any comment as she trailed beside her. “So, you see why this whole thing is a terrible idea.”
Marguerite blocked her by moving ahead of her and leaning against a file cabinet. The whole endless aisle responded with a shiver of movement, a reaction that reflected the tension between them. “That’s where you’re wrong. Elspeth, I have been protecting you from the Council’s wishes for quite some time, knowing your resistance. But even those who choose not to go back, or become guardians, find a way forward. You, darlin’, are standing still as a breathless summer bayou. So, when Desmond requested a temporary replacement for the child he’s been guarding, the Council decided it should be you.”
Elle paled. “Wait. A child?” Unbidden, her wings splayed and arched like a peacock’s tail—always ruled by her emotion—then curled protectively around her. She fussed at the bent feathers of her left wing. “Then definitely no. You said nothing about—”
“Her name is Molly. And she’s charming as a sunrise—”
“No!” Elle pointed at Marguerite. “No children. I-I can’t. Please don’t make me.”
“You can and you will. Roland’s decision is final.”
“It’s too much responsibility to teach them to listen. They don’t.”
“They can and they do. And you will teach her.”
Elle straightened her shoulders and laid flat her wings, feeling defeated. She knelt down beside Enoch, who licked her fingers. Enoch always knew how to comfort her. She dug her fingers into the dog’s curly fur. Finally, she said, “You insist, then?”
Marguerite nodded. “It is what’s best for you, ma fille.”
“But,” she whispered, “what if I fail her?”
Marguerite took her arm and began walking with her toward Elle’s desk. “You will do your best for her.”
A walk to the gallows might have felt easier. For there was only one thing Elle knew with certainty: failing the Council or even herself was bad enough. It was infinitely more dire to fail a child.
Two Spins Around the Sun Earlier
“Absolutely not. You know how I feel about this. I won’t do it.”
Elspeth Aloysius resolutely ducked behind the overgrown stack of intakes that covered her Celestial desk, her long blonde hair curtaining her panic. But naturally, her attempt to dodge her mentor, Marguerite Ciel, failed miserably, and in the next instant, Elle felt her standing behind her shoulder. And beside Marguerite was her fuzzy little companion dog, Enoch.
“It’s time. Long past time for you to take a guardianship, cher.” Marguerite’s easy Cajun drawl seemed to have a deliberate edge to it today. “You can’t hide here in the Eternal Entry Files forever.”
“Hide? I am doing no such thing.” But getting to her feet, Elle strode away to do just that in the bowels of the file room—or as confused new arrivals often referred to it, ‘the Cloud’—an endless maze of records, full of twists and turns one could easily lose oneself in, if not careful. Particularly if one wanted to.
“There is a limit to the Council’s patience on this matter, Elle,” Marguerite said, right on her heels and apparently not about to let this go. “And I’m afraid they have reached that limit.”
“But I’m doing my job,” Elle insisted, waving a hand before one of the drawers and transferring an existent history with a simple gesture. “And doing it better than anyone else ever has, I might add. I mean, if you consider how I have upgraded all the systems for—”
“After nearly two Earth centuries at that desk, you are quite correct,” Marguerite said, drumming her fingers against her crossed arm. “And certainly no one is arguing your proficiency at isolation.”
Elle slowed.
Crushing isolation, she meant. Elle supposed that was perfectly clear to anyone who happened to notice her—though, frankly, she was surprised anyone had. She had upgraded herself into near total aloneness here.
And nearly two centuries? Had it been that long already? She supposed she’d lost track. Then again, time passed much, much more quickly here than it did down there. But isolation, as an objective, had never been her intention, rather an unfortunate consequence. She’d certainly tried other Celestial occupations before this one. Assistant to the Celestial Choirmaster . . . along with the unfortunate incident with the irreplaceable bell ringer choir’s bells. But how was she to have known that sitting on one end of that table would send the whole thing crashing upside down, damaging several ancient relics beyond repair? And then there was the Junior Rainbow Instigator job, which didn’t end well either. Something about accidentally deleting indigo and causing an uproar in the Earthly scientific community. But all that happened a long time ago.
“You must understand that you are not the only one capable of filling this position,” Marguerite continued. “Others have requested—”
“I am . . . fine here,” she said, though that was a lie. The endlessness of this work for another few centuries or more was almost too awful to contemplate, but still better than what Marguerite was suggesting.
“You’re lonely here,” the older woman countered, putting her usual finer point on things. Marguerite’s kind brown eyes softened Elle’s anger but did nothing to sway her. “Be that as it may, if I’d wanted to be a guardian, I would have asked to be one at the start. Which I didn’t. It is our right to choose. That’s the rule, isn’t it? I chose a steadier, more predictable path.”
Marguerite sighed. “Path, by definition, implies your journey will lead somewhere. Our purpose here is growth, regardless of which path we choose. This job was never meant to be permanent for you. Nor was it meant to serve as a sanctuary. You forget, cher. I know why you refused a guardianship and chose to stay when so many of the souls you came in with have returned, many times over already, or have moved up in the guardian ranks.”
That much, she could not deny. And to Marguerite’s credit, she had never picked at Elle’s particular wound, but allowed her to try to deal with it on her own. Elle had managed, rather handily, to bury it instead, in the isolation of the files.
She wondered if Marguerite had been secretly watching her scan the life files arriving from the Entry Realm that had snagged her attention like the sparkle of sunlight before she filed them away, wishing that she wasn’t so completely alone.
She dug her fingernails into her palm. I must be slipping to have allowed her such unfettered access.
She stuffed two more files in the nearest cabinet and turned to put more distance between herself and Marguerite. But not before the drawer slammed shut, catching the tips of several wing feathers there, jerking her off her feet.
A yelp of surprise escaped her as she fell, but she quickly tugged her wing out of the cabinet and popped back up. “I’m okay,” she told no one in particular.
Beside her, Marguerite bit her lip, struggling to contain her mirth.
Petting her bent feathers back in place Elle stalked back down the aisle. Add that to her list of technological adjustments: fix meddlesome file drawers.
“Yes, that just happened,” Elle told Marguerite, forestalling any comment as she trailed beside her. “So, you see why this whole thing is a terrible idea.”
Marguerite blocked her by moving ahead of her and leaning against a file cabinet. The whole endless aisle responded with a shiver of movement, a reaction that reflected the tension between them. “That’s where you’re wrong. Elspeth, I have been protecting you from the Council’s wishes for quite some time, knowing your resistance. But even those who choose not to go back, or become guardians, find a way forward. You, darlin’, are standing still as a breathless summer bayou. So, when Desmond requested a temporary replacement for the child he’s been guarding, the Council decided it should be you.”
Elle paled. “Wait. A child?” Unbidden, her wings splayed and arched like a peacock’s tail—always ruled by her emotion—then curled protectively around her. She fussed at the bent feathers of her left wing. “Then definitely no. You said nothing about—”
“Her name is Molly. And she’s charming as a sunrise—”
“No!” Elle pointed at Marguerite. “No children. I-I can’t. Please don’t make me.”
“You can and you will. Roland’s decision is final.”
“It’s too much responsibility to teach them to listen. They don’t.”
“They can and they do. And you will teach her.”
Elle straightened her shoulders and laid flat her wings, feeling defeated. She knelt down beside Enoch, who licked her fingers. Enoch always knew how to comfort her. She dug her fingers into the dog’s curly fur. Finally, she said, “You insist, then?”
Marguerite nodded. “It is what’s best for you, ma fille.”
“But,” she whispered, “what if I fail her?”
Marguerite took her arm and began walking with her toward Elle’s desk. “You will do your best for her.”
A walk to the gallows might have felt easier. For there was only one thing Elle knew with certainty: failing the Council or even herself was bad enough. It was infinitely more dire to fail a child.
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The Guardian Angel Chronicles Series:
I grew up in Upstate New York, training to be a ballerina, but secretly dreamed of being an actress. My preteen fangirl crush on Haley Mills led me to practice my British accent on unsuspecting store clerks (no really–I did that) and I dreamed of co-starring in the remake of THE MOONSPINNERS. Because I was also an obsessed avid reader, I discovered that the film was based on a book by the fabulous Mary Stewart, which, circuitously, led to my lifelong love affair with romantic fiction.
Since Haley Mills was, sadly, not in the market for a co-star, I pursued a degree in English Literature from the University of Tennessee. And when that degree, predictably, led to unemployment, I pulled up my socks and moved to Hollywood where I built a career as a successful commercial actress while raising two amazing (now grown) children with my sweet husband (who now is a Hollywood agent and by some strange and wonderful quirk of fate, represents Haley Mills’ brother-in-law. Gasp. I’ve made him promise to introduce us.)
Writing romance came naturally from all that reading and the down time between auditions. Once I sold my first book, though, after much hard work, I said farewell to Hollywood-Land and never looked back. Over the years, I’ve written both historicals and contemporary romances that are all available as Ebooks and a few are available in print. Twice nominated for Romance Writer’s of America’s RITA, my historicals are emotional, character driven adventures set in the West, (Wild Western Hearts and Wild Western Rogues series) while my contemporaries range from my Harlequin romantic suspense to my newer Tule Publishing romances that are also set in the west and are both emotional and full of fun. A little something for everyone, I hope!
In between writing novels, I got my MFA in Creative Writing from Goddard and optioned a few screenplays and I’ve taught and mentored aspiring writers for the last fifteen years. But my first love is, and always will be, the books I write for you.
Transplanted recently from Southern California, Barbara lives in Dallas with her husband, a rescue cat and a scruffy, adorable rescue dog.
Places to find Barbara Ankrum:
To enter: Answer Barbara's question. “We have a special, hand-made angel at the top of our tree at Christmas who partly inspired this series for me. For a chance to win this giveaway, just tell me: what’s your favorite tree-topper at Christmastime? Or if you don’t have a tree, your favorite holiday tradition?”
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I have been enjoying these profiles! We always had an angel when I was kid and that has continued with our own tree now.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeleteI always have a star
ReplyDeleteMy favorite holiday tradition is driving around at night looking at the lights on houses.
ReplyDeleteDriving to Dallas on Christmas Eve
ReplyDeleteThe Christmas star.
ReplyDelete