Title: Between Earth and Eden
Series: The Guardian series
Author: E.L. Irwin
Publisher: Blue Tulip Publishing
Genre & Tropes: Romance; New Adult; Fantasy; Supernatural; Angels vs Demons; Good vs Evil
From E.L. Irwin comes a new supernatural series filled with romance and suspense. Prepare to embark on a journey with Jane as she discovers what lies Between Earth and Eden.
“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers…
Long ago, when First Eden fell, when the Deceiver came, bringing untruth and corruption, a new realm was formed to blanket the earth. New Eden it was called. Like fabric lovingly stitched together, it was put in place, unseen, to keep the denizens of Earth safe. But war has broken out and fierce battles are being waged between good and evil for the souls of humanity. Guardians, appointed by the King Himself are all that stand between Earth and Eden, between their salvation and their destruction.
Though human and thoroughly unaware of the supernatural world around her, Jane Tanner finds herself hunted and caught up in a web of dark forces. Her twin brother Cash has already fallen prey to one of Hell’s own. Now, to keep her safe, Jane’s Guardian will move heaven and earth to ensure her protection. But those dark powers are moving and dominions are rising and Jane’s Guardian will need to decide quickly just how far he’ll need to go to fulfill his duty and covenant oath.
…against the rulers of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in heavenly places.” Ephesians 6:12, NKJV
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It was warmer today than it has been for the last couple of weeks. I didn’t think the weather could quite decide what it wanted — spring, or summer, or fall — though it was still the middle of June. The sun was hot and bright overhead; I had the moonroof open and the stereo on. Turning the corner onto Meridian, I casually followed the wide curve in the road. Suddenly, the rock station I’d been listening to went out, and my speakers were humming nothing but static. Please not again, I prayed as I hit the search button and crossed my fingers. The next clear station tuned in just as Jace Everett’s Bad Things came on. Passing my closest neighbor’s house, I was just approaching the large stand of birch that marked the edges of our property when a football went flying past my windshield.
The brakes squealed loudly as I stomped the pedal and swallowed my heart back down. Looking around in alarm, I wondered if the neighbor kids were playing too close to the road. As I glanced to the right, the direction the ball had come from, I did a doubletake, my heart stuttering in my chest.
A man I’d never seen before — and would have remembered if I had — was jogging toward me. He wore jeans slung low on his hips, and he was fairly muscled. His skin was deeply tanned and glistened a little with his exertions. I could see this quite clearly because he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just those jeans and a pair of shoes. My mouth dried out a little as I took him in. Such was the impact he was having on me that I failed to acknowledge the warning growl that sounded in my head. My heart was tripping inside my chest and I swallowed to ease the tightness in my throat.
Jerking my eyes from his body and up to his face, hoping he hadn’t seen my physical assessment of him, I found his eyes were trained right on me. Gulping, I tried to get my heart rate lowered to an acceptable level. The man jogged across the road and deftly scooped up the football, then came over to my window. I didn’t remember rolling it down, but as he approached me, I became aware my window was indeed down.
His mouth lifting enticingly, knowingly, and he leaned his right hand on the window frame. “Sorry about that,” he said in a beautiful Irish accent, his tone indicating he wasn’t really sorry at all, that maybe he’d intended to get my attention.
Smiling back — I couldn’t help it really — I replied as calmly as I could. “No worries.”
“Didn’t scare you, did I?” he asked, his voice teasing.
I shook my head. “Just startled me.”
His eyes were black, deep pits of darkness, like an endless ocean, bottomless, and effortlessly pulling me in. His hair was shiny, black like a raven’s wing, his teeth very white. I could smell him. Some dark, spicy, smoky kind of cologne. Even sweaty, he smelled good. Wow. The snarling in my head was becoming ferocious, but I did my best to ignore it. This man was entirely too intriguing to overlook. He effortlessly commanded my attention.
“I’m Jane. Jane Tanner,” I said in introduction, trying to get a grip on myself, my body, my mind, the snarling warning. Sticking my hand out the window, I waited for him to take it.
His mouth lifted again in a crooked grin, one designed to pull me further in, even as his hand grasped mine. When he did, I felt a shock all the way through my system, everything going haywire for a moment. The snarling voice was instantly silenced, and for a brief second the world around me seemed to have leached away. Instead of shaking my hand as I’d intended, he lifted it and lightly grazed the back of my knuckles with his lips, causing a new ripple to cascade through me.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Jane Tanner.” His brogue was soft and enchanting, enticing, and I nearly melted on the spot.
It was the sound of my Jeep, the engine idling in high-pitched protest, that alerted me to the idea that I needed to move, needed to not be stationary in the middle of the road. I’d been sitting here in shocked disbelief ever since I’d watched as he loped away from my vehicle, back toward my neighbor’s house. My hand was tingling — still — from where his lips had touched me. It took a few moments for me to come to any coherent thoughts, and the first one was that I really did need to get out of the road. The second was that I hadn’t gotten his name; I didn’t even know who he was.
It was warmer today than it has been for the last couple of weeks. I didn’t think the weather could quite decide what it wanted — spring, or summer, or fall — though it was still the middle of June. The sun was hot and bright overhead; I had the moonroof open and the stereo on. Turning the corner onto Meridian, I casually followed the wide curve in the road. Suddenly, the rock station I’d been listening to went out, and my speakers were humming nothing but static. Please not again, I prayed as I hit the search button and crossed my fingers. The next clear station tuned in just as Jace Everett’s Bad Things came on. Passing my closest neighbor’s house, I was just approaching the large stand of birch that marked the edges of our property when a football went flying past my windshield.
The brakes squealed loudly as I stomped the pedal and swallowed my heart back down. Looking around in alarm, I wondered if the neighbor kids were playing too close to the road. As I glanced to the right, the direction the ball had come from, I did a doubletake, my heart stuttering in my chest.
A man I’d never seen before — and would have remembered if I had — was jogging toward me. He wore jeans slung low on his hips, and he was fairly muscled. His skin was deeply tanned and glistened a little with his exertions. I could see this quite clearly because he wasn’t wearing a shirt, just those jeans and a pair of shoes. My mouth dried out a little as I took him in. Such was the impact he was having on me that I failed to acknowledge the warning growl that sounded in my head. My heart was tripping inside my chest and I swallowed to ease the tightness in my throat.
Jerking my eyes from his body and up to his face, hoping he hadn’t seen my physical assessment of him, I found his eyes were trained right on me. Gulping, I tried to get my heart rate lowered to an acceptable level. The man jogged across the road and deftly scooped up the football, then came over to my window. I didn’t remember rolling it down, but as he approached me, I became aware my window was indeed down.
His mouth lifting enticingly, knowingly, and he leaned his right hand on the window frame. “Sorry about that,” he said in a beautiful Irish accent, his tone indicating he wasn’t really sorry at all, that maybe he’d intended to get my attention.
Smiling back — I couldn’t help it really — I replied as calmly as I could. “No worries.”
“Didn’t scare you, did I?” he asked, his voice teasing.
I shook my head. “Just startled me.”
His eyes were black, deep pits of darkness, like an endless ocean, bottomless, and effortlessly pulling me in. His hair was shiny, black like a raven’s wing, his teeth very white. I could smell him. Some dark, spicy, smoky kind of cologne. Even sweaty, he smelled good. Wow. The snarling in my head was becoming ferocious, but I did my best to ignore it. This man was entirely too intriguing to overlook. He effortlessly commanded my attention.
“I’m Jane. Jane Tanner,” I said in introduction, trying to get a grip on myself, my body, my mind, the snarling warning. Sticking my hand out the window, I waited for him to take it.
His mouth lifted again in a crooked grin, one designed to pull me further in, even as his hand grasped mine. When he did, I felt a shock all the way through my system, everything going haywire for a moment. The snarling voice was instantly silenced, and for a brief second the world around me seemed to have leached away. Instead of shaking my hand as I’d intended, he lifted it and lightly grazed the back of my knuckles with his lips, causing a new ripple to cascade through me.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Jane Tanner.” His brogue was soft and enchanting, enticing, and I nearly melted on the spot.
It was the sound of my Jeep, the engine idling in high-pitched protest, that alerted me to the idea that I needed to move, needed to not be stationary in the middle of the road. I’d been sitting here in shocked disbelief ever since I’d watched as he loped away from my vehicle, back toward my neighbor’s house. My hand was tingling — still — from where his lips had touched me. It took a few moments for me to come to any coherent thoughts, and the first one was that I really did need to get out of the road. The second was that I hadn’t gotten his name; I didn’t even know who he was.
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See how Jane’s story ends in Between Heaven and Hell.
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A child of divorce and abuse, E. L. Irwin found escape in reading and writing, and through the school of hard-knocks, learned to be a fighter. She’s a self-described romantic-rebel who wears her heart on her sleeve and tends to shoot from the hip on subjects that matter. She enjoys riding horses, camping, fishing, wearing heels, shooting her XD.40, tattoos, and of course, a good book and hot coffee.
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