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Kristin D. Van Risseghem
Category:
Young Adult/Teen
Publisher: Kasian Publishing
ISBN-10: 1943207097
Type: Fiction
Pages: 282
Copyright: May 20, 2015
ISBN-13: 9781943207022
Price: $2.99 (eBook)
Zoe Jabril could be just another 17-year-old girl attending parties with her friends and checking out cute guys—except her best friend is a Guardian Angel, and the boy she crushes on is a Nephilim, half-angel, both sent to Earth to protect her. A high school classmate happens to be a trendsetting shopaholic fairy. And now there’s a new werewolf in town.
Zoe Jabril could be just another 17-year-old girl attending parties with her friends and checking out cute guys—except her best friend is a Guardian Angel, and the boy she crushes on is a Nephilim, half-angel, both sent to Earth to protect her. A high school classmate happens to be a trendsetting shopaholic fairy. And now there’s a new werewolf in town.
Zoe has to deal with her feelings toward Shay, who spreads a strange electrical current through her body every time he touches her. Now Zoe is under constant attack from demons, trying to kill and stop her from fulfilling the Prophecy: a girl will be born who will unite the Enlightens to battle evil. Then on top of that, between boring homework and drama with girls at school, she has to control new found talents if she’s to prevent the devil from escaping Hell.
In order to do so, Zoe must devise a kick-ass plan ASAP or watch everyone die, because she’s running out of time. She turns eighteen in two months—the date Armageddon kicks off.
Excerpt
I waited on my front steps for Shay. I didn't want to introduce him to my parents. That was just too complicated. After checking my clothes again, I felt for my necklace, a silver chain with an in laid teardrop tanzanite stone, surrounded by diamond studded wings. My grandma had given it to me on my sixteenth birthday, and I'd thought it was appropriate for tonight. I re-checked the front of my baby pink cashmere sweater. It matched my black--in honor of Shay--Miss Me jeans. I'd had to dig around my closet to find shoes, since my Converses just weren't going to cut it, and settled on a pair of sparkly black kitten heels.
At seven, Shay turned onto the cul-de-sac in a shiny black car: a 1957 Chevy Bel Air with those unmistakable fins. I knew it well, due to dad's fascination with classic vehicles. He pulled into the driveway, hopped out, and strode up to the porch.
I waved, suddenly shy and looked away.
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