We got a request from a very nice agent for a German Author by the name of Inka Loreen Minde. The agent was very nice and very helpful so we of course agreed to help. So check out the excerpt and buy the book. I haven’t read it all, but it sounds good so far.
Noir...if he could touch her only once, he would sacrifice his life. Dullness spread in his chest. Of course, Noir's protection had priority over his own cravings. Like always, he had no other choice but to drool over her from a distance. How robust was a gargoyle heart, really?
Hearts of Stone is a heart-melting love story about a witch and a gargoyle.
Two forlorn souls, not allowed to love...
His Clan took everything from him and forced Vincent to live in the shadows. Shunned by his own kind, his only light in the dark is the witch Noir LeMar. He is her secret guardian. He wants to touch her—only once—but his Clan has cursed him.
Demons have wiped out Noir LeMar’s family. Ever since she’s fighting a lonely battle. She does not know that she has a protector who watches her day and night, while she tries to find the killers of her parents.
To save Noir’s life, Vincent has to give up his cover. Although they feel attracted to each other, both know, they never can fall in love and feel passion. The consequences would be devastating because everything he touches in his human form turns into stone.
But fate has other plans...
Like a giant bat, Vincent hung upside down against the wall of the abbey. He stared through the window, his claws embedded into the gray stone and his wings pressed to his body. On a narrow bed, lay Noir. Vince saw a long slender leg, peeking out from under the blanket. He could look at her for hours. He sighed softly. Fortunately, the pitch- black darkness concealed him, but wind chased the clouds, and soon the moon would shed light on the monastery grounds.
Noir moved restlessly and awoke.
His pulse sped up. With one movement, he pushed himself from the wall and sailed with outstretched wings into the foliage of a tree across from the window. He dug his claws into the trunk, climbed as nimbly as a squirrel to the crown, and perched there motionless. He knew what was coming and his heartbeat quickened. Noir opened the window and Vince caught his breath, because as she stuck her head out, moonlight poured onto her long hair through a gap in the clouds and it shone like silver. Her elf-like face showed no emotion. Noir’s eyes, dark as onyx, darted around the garden of the abbey. Vince lived for moments like this. Unfortunately, she retreated too soon.
He pushed his head forward, careful not to betray himself, and blinked until he got used to the brightness of the moon, shining through the leaves of the imposing oak tree. From his hiding place, he had an excellent view into the room of the old convent. Silver Abbey had been built in the twelfth century near the harbor town of Aberdeen. The gray granite walls, quarried from the stone pits nearby, were characteristic of the Scottish city, with some buildings dating back to the Middle Ages. When the sun or moonlight hit the houses, the particles in the stone glittered like Noir’s white hair.
For many weeks, she had hidden in the ancient looking monastery. The interior had been modernized and adapted to the twenty-first century—even the monks of Abbey Silverstone wanted Internet access. Nevertheless, Noir lived in a sparse room because the monastery was a monastery, no matter what century it existed in. It offered the perfect hiding place for a witch; no one would suspect her to hide in a church facility, and no demon entered such a place voluntarily.
The clock struck ten. Light illuminated Noir’s room and Vincent squeezed his eyes shut. He heard the familiar buzz as Noir powered up her computer. A little later, the toilet flushed, and then the scraping of chair legs as Noir sat down at her desk. Vincent didn’t move, the night offered him additional protection. As Noir’s secret protector, he was accustomed to going undetected. Almost every night, the witch hunted demons, and each time Vincent followed her like a shadow.
He sighed again. Why did Noir continue with this terrible life? He’d much rather stroll around with her in the moonlight than constantly rush after her. The window framed her tall, slim shape. She had her back to Vincent as she sat at the table, typing on the computer in front of her. If he remained stock-still, she wouldn’t notice him, even though he was perched just four yards away from her on a branch.
During the day, Noir hid her hair under a habit like the monks in the monastery. Now it flowed, slightly tousled, over her shoulders. He preferred Noir in her sleeping shirt because it didn’t hide her beautiful figure as the wide robe did. The material hardly covered her ass and he caught a glimpse of tight, skimpy panties.
Her curves…Vincent swallowed hard. His claws dug deep into the wood of the thick branch to which he clung. Since the chair had an open back, he ogled Noir’s narrow waist and her taut buttocks, which slipped back and forth on the chair. How would her softness feel under his touch? How would Noir’s hair be? Stubborn like his, or soft like velvet? The way it caressed her back and adapted to each movement, it resembled silk.
Was her skin smooth? For certain. Everything about Noir would feel good. Vince would give everything if he could touch her—only once!
He had often toyed with this thought: he would spread his wings and soar over to her window while she slept, creep to her bed, pull the cover from her body, and caress her. Just once!
But Noir was a hunter, a killer. The moment she noticed him, she would destroy him. Vincent looked eerie, at least in his non-human form: his fangs lengthened and he sprouted pointy ears. Tiny horns poked out of his brown hair and strong bat-like wings adorned his back—certainly no eye candy. Noir would be frightened if a six-and-a-half-foot monster suddenly loomed in front of her in ripped jeans.