Publisher Eternal Press

Publisher Eternal Press
Love and the Paranormal

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

My new book "Angel in My Heart, Devil in My Soul"
launches to today win door prizes and more at 2 EST and 7 EST

Here are some excerpts and blurbs from my book.

Angel in My Heart, Devil in My Soul

By Linda Hays-Gibbs


     He was a minion of the Devil.  She was an angel of goodness.  They were meant for each other but things had gone horribly wrong.  The only hope for them was in their love.  As she searched for him to love, he searched for her to kill her.  His job was simple and he had done this many times before but there was something about her, some strange scent and feeling. 

     She fell down the stairs and lost consciousness at his feet.  He picked her up in his arms to take her to a room and make sure she was dead.  He had his command and knew his job well.

     Would he kill her or love her?  Was there hope for a killer?  Could he ever love anyone?






A tall man in a scarlet cape with jet-black hair and a mustache

entered the library. He leisurely strolled over to the fireplace and

threw up his hands for warmth. Immediately, a fire blazed up in

the fireplace, overheating the room. He was extremely handsome,

but evil blistered from his black eyes. His tongue slithered from

his lips as he stared at Neville. A fog seeped in his wake, bringing

smells of sulfur and rotting flesh with it.

A hissing, breathy voice came as the room filled with sulfur

fumes. “I made my agreement with your family. I sssssssettled the

gambling debts and sssssset up your household. You owe me.” He

towered over Neville.

“I have the document in my hands. It states that you had my

father and me bound by it but not my son. You cannot corrupt

an innocent baby. He is God’s own. Surely you see that he had

nothing to do with this agreement?” Neville’s voice shook, and he

perspired profusely. He turned away to catch his breath and calm

his heart as he choked on the sulfur.

“I will have what I will. You cannot



The man in his sights looked around nervously. John knew

there was no chance that his prey saw him. He blended into the

smoky shadows. His silent footsteps followed the echoing ones of

the terrified man who hurried to get home. The man’s eyes darted

side-to–side, hopeless in their plight to spot the horror that he

knew in his heart followed him in the night. As the man rounded

the corner, he stopped to mop the sweat from his brow, searching

again the maze of tall buildings and ghostly shadows in the

blackness. His heart racing, he tried to focus and adjust his eyes

to the dark. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up in alarm.

He forced in a breath and shook his head. Certain people wanted

his life. He straightened and continued on his path, resigned in

his plight. His eyes dart from left to right, still searching and still

afraid. He walked faster to keep the dangers away. John slithered

in behind the man.

Peering into the dark, the man called to the shadows, “Hello?

Who is there? I warn you, I have a gun. I am armed. I will not be

taken easily. You’d best move along.” The man narrowed his eyes.

This man was neither good nor bad. He was just a man who

was in the way of another man, and he had to be removed. John

stalked the night on many occasions just like this. It was second

nature to him. The inky, black void was as comforting to him as a

mother’s caress.

A dark void paced beside him as he penetrated the black and

saw his prey. John caught the man by the throat and smiled into

his desperate face. A swift dagger into the ribs, and ultimately

the victim’s heart, would end this quickly however, John wanted a

little fun in his game. The man gurgled a half scream as his eyes

widened in horror. The dagger sliced the back of his leg. The left

wrist came next. As blood spurted, the man screamed until John

jabbed smoothly into his neck. The man stumbled away, limping.

Now, nothing came from his mouth. His eyes searched John’s

face, but he found no pity, no help for his life. Silently, the man fell

into the gutter like a rag doll. The street claimed another life in

the rat holes of London.

John quietly and leisurely walked away. As he sauntered

through the night, he thought of his next victim.



Rachael was a beautiful girl with wide, yellow

eyes and dark brown chestnut hair and red and gold highlights

running rampant through it. Her hair fell in waves below her

waist and was tied with a yellow ribbon to keep it out of her eyes.

She sat down by a sad, old oak in a mossy mound of a tree root

that looked like a cradle. She stared into the sky, and her heart

spun in her chest. Her mind tried to grasp and hold to the truth

of things. Why do people always assume the Devil is a fairy tale?

Something told by people to frighten children. She knew the devil

was real, and Hell was a place you do not want to go.

Quietly, she picked a clover and tied it to another, making a

chain for a necklace. She spied a four-leaf clover.

“A lucky clover!” A wide grin lit up her beautiful face.


Rachel had dreams and visions, and one of her special dreams

was of a beautiful boy that was anything but beautiful in his ways.

He was cruel and hurt people, but she knew he had been hurt, too.

She saw him hurt in visions that started when she was very small.

She felt sorry for this boy but thought she was in love with him

too, or with the boy he was supposed to have been. Where was he?

Why did she dream about him?

Some part of her heart was drawn to this evil person, and she

did not know why. It was a mystery for her, but she knew she could

help him, if she could find him. She swallowed hard to hold back

tears, for she knew he suffered. She bit her lip hard to stop the

sobs. Her sad eyes roamed the hills, searching for answers



John Monroe was now six and a half feet tall, broad of shoulder,

with coal black hair, dark blue eyes, fringed with long thick

lashes. His face had high cheekbones, a straight aquiline nose,

black slashes for eyebrows, and a cleft in his chin. When he smiled

he had dimples surrounding a mouth of perfectly carved lips

so sensual as to make women weep. With the grace of a cat, he

moved through shadows aloof and confident in his own power as

a minion of the devil. He did not know for how long he had killed

people. Days and nights merged into each other forming a haze

of horror. Sometimes it was as if he looked out from a window

at what he did. It was not him doing murder, but some other evil

John. If only it was that simple. He shook his head in dismay at

his stupidity.

John arose from his bed of daydreaming and washed his face.

He put on his shirt and breeches. He had a dark green superfine

coat and a silk brown vest with stags embroidered on it. His

breeches were brown leather and his black boots shined like glass.

His cravat was tied in several intricate loops


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