January 25 is coming up fast – hard to believe it’s almost 2011! RESTLESS HEART, my second book as Emma Lang, hits the shelves on that auspicious day. Woot!

RESTLESS HEART was a different kind of book for me. Many of my books, and especially RUTHLESS HEART the book before this one, have some laugh out loud humor as a natural extension of the characters. RESTLESS HEART had some but the hero and heroine didn’t have that sarcastic streak.

Instead, they were both very damaged souls, looking for something, anything, to pull them from the darkness they existed in. And when I say existed, that’s the right word. Angeline lived a lie each day while Sam lived in pain. It was an intensely emotional book to write and I found myself falling into the dark emotions the characters were feeling.

It wasn’t the first time, but I had to struggle to keep myself above water with it. I think the scenes that really pull you in as a reader, totally pulled me in as the author. It’s a failing I have, being very emotional (I’m an easy cryer too), but that failing makes my characters live in breathe IMHO.

I hope y’all enjoy Angeline’s story when it releases January 25th from Kensington Brava. Below is an excerpt to whet your appetite!

***

When he arrived at the Blue Plate, instead of heading inside to eat, he found himself walking around to the back. To where he’d first seen Angeline reading on the steps back in October. A lifetime ago it seemed. He didn’t know what compelled him to walk back there, but when he did he found Angeline gathering wood from the pile without a coat.

“Angel, what are you doing? You’ll freeze to death.” He took the wood from her as she stared at him, her nose red from the cold.

His arm brushed her breast, earning a surprised yelp from her and an instant hard-on from him. Her scent washed over him, feeding his arousal, making him nearly careen out of control.

He leaned toward her, the wood forgotten, the coolness of the air a distant memory. She licked her lips, the nip in the air making them a darker pink. Sam moved as if in a daze, his body buzzing with only one thought.

Kissing Angeline.

His blood thrummed through his body and he swore the air between them crackled as he came within an inch of being pressed up against her. She sucked in a short breath, her blue gaze as wide as the sky above.

Against his will, with his mind screaming for him to stop, Sam leaned forward and kissed her. Oh God, her lips were softer than anything he’d ever felt in his life. She tasted of coffee, of woman, of an angel’s sweetness. He brushed her lips again, their breaths mingling in the cold air in a small poof of whiteness.

Sam groaned and stepped back, this time it was his body howling in agony. His dick hammering against the buttons that held it back.

What the hell had he just done?

Angeline shivered and licked her lips again. “What did you call me?”

Sam stopped, completely flummoxed by her question. He expected her to slap him, kick him in the balls or at least turn and leave him standing there like the idiot he was. “I don’t know. What did I call you?”

“You called me Angel.” She shook her head slowly. “Believe me, I am no angel, Samuel.”

He needed to apologize, but didn’t know how. Sam wasn’t used to the softer things in life. A warrior at heart, he could hardly bear not taking this woman to his bed. He wanted her with the heat of a thousand suns.

“You look angelic to me. And please, call me Sam.”

Was that the best he could do? Moron.

“Don’t let the outside fool you. Nothing about me is angelic.” She backed up toward the stairs and stumbled.

Sam grabbed her by the elbow and she gasped, her gaze again slammed to his. He wanted to gasp too. Touching her sent a jolt through him unequaled in his life. As if a bolt of lightning had come down from the clear sky and slammed into them. Every hair on his body stood on end.

Her mouth opened and she scrambled to her feet, apparently eager to stop touching him. Sam rubbed his hands together to prevent him from reaching for her again. He didn’t necessarily believe in the gods or the spiritual teachings of his mother, at least what he could remember of them.

Yet, the gods in their wisdom had obviously made this woman to be his other half, the white to his black, his mate. There could be no other explanation.