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What do you do when you NORMALLY write books featuring Scottish heroes and heroines or Scottish dragons, and a Frenchman from the late 19th century screams in your head? This happened to me many years ago, about the time I was publishing books like My Honorable Highlander and Dragon in the Mist. I loved this paranormal romance because I set it in my adoptive state of North Carolina. My readers kept demanding more of the Highlanders and dragons, so it stayed hidden in a drawer (actually, on a flash drive).

A year ago, I set out to see if I could interest a publisher in Heaven-sent Warrior, mainly because I had an idea for a series called Warriors in Bronze. Did I mention I had made the heroine a modern woman of Scottish descent? The book has always had the same title and I am pleased that Lori Polito from Soul Mate Publishing listened to my pitch at the RWA Conference in Orlando, and asked to read the full story. She bought it, and the book was just released! Better yet, she has agreed to publish the 2nd book in the series: Heaven-sent Highlander. Coming soon!

Book Blurb for Heaven-sent Warrior

Henrí Chevalier’s last memory, before stumbling naked into a museum’s moonlit garden, was Auguste Rodin and his dusty Paris studio in 1886. To escape his broken heart, Henrí volunteered to sleep inside a statue until needed. Expecting to die, he discovers he must learn to use the unexpected powers Heaven has given him. Without them he will fail his mission against otherworldly creatures, such as demons and faeries.

Kenzie Mackintosh, a dedicated art museum’s curator, spies a naked man hiding among bronze statues. A quick glance ignites desire within her, but she is too tied-up in work to act on it. Unaware of her fae heritage, their relationship heats up as he disrupts her job. While Henrí tries to process modern buildings, cars, and a broken elevator, a demon attacks and forces Henrí and Kenzie to enlist the aid of her powerful fae relatives. When the demon possesses the body of her ex-lover and threatens to kill him, then use her to take over the world, Henrí and Kenzie must learn to trust each other, even if Kenzie’s death might be the only answer to the world’s salvation.


Kenzie couldn’t get her mouth to work, but she knew the second Henrí had read her thoughts, because he nodded, then kissed her. She strove to be fearless and confident, but everything flew out the door when he slipped his tongue into her mouth. In the next two seconds, she’d either sink into his embrace and never stop kissing him back, or run.

“Stay with me tonight, mon ange,” he whispered.

He’d drawn his luscious mouth back a few inches, but his words sounded . . . familiar.

“It means my angel, since you have the look of the heavens in your lovely hair and exquisite eyes. You taste like ambrosia.”

“The mythical food of the gods?” she asked. She wanted to fan her face, but she’d locked her hands around Henrí’s neck.

“There is only one true God, mon ange.”

Kenzie nodded as her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled his mouth back down to hers. Anything to keep from considering the circumstances.

She withdrew, sucking in a breath. Circumstances? She had her tongue down a stranger’s throat after someone, whom Henrí called a demon, had nearly broken into her home. The feelings, sweeping her better judgment away, were foreign.

Oui, I am French,” he whispered.

“Stop doing that.”


“You’re spooky.”

Actually, he’s too close, too enticing, too . . . male.

Henrí chuckled, then lifted her into his arms. At five feet ten inches, she was close to his height, but he didn’t so much as wheeze as he carried her to her bedroom. He lay down on the bed and snuggled up beside her, without taking his hands off her body.

What am I doing? This is wrong on so many levels.

Henrí’s head shot up, and his eyes darkened. His brows lowered, and he seemed angry. She pushed away the fear. He wouldn’t hurt her. He’d already saved her more than once.

“Serves you right,” she said, “because it’s not polite to listen to a person’s private thoughts.” She attempted to appear chagrined, but his suddenly guilty facial expression made her smile. How could he be angry with her? He lay on her bed, arms wrapped around her, making her body feel . . . great.

He didn’t dare say a word. Smart man.



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About the Author

Nancy Lee Badger grew up in Huntington on New York’s Long Island. After attending Plymouth State, in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, she earned a Bachelor of Science degree in Art Education and met and married her college sweetheart. They raised two handsome sons in New Hampshire and when the children had left the nest, and shoveling show became a chore, she retired from her satisfying job as a 9-1-1 Emergency Medical Dispatcher and moved with her husband to North Carolina, where she writes full-time.

Nancy is a member of Romance Writers of America, Heart of Carolina Romance Writers, Fantasy-Futuristic & Paranormal Romance Writers, and the Triangle Association of Freelancers. She loves to travel and attend Scottish Highland Games and is never far from her laptop. She finds story ideas in the most unusual places.

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