The Warrior Prophet (The Watcher Saga #3) by Lisa Voisin

Release Date: April 13, 2016

Publisher:  Inkspell Publishing

Mia Crawford is a prophet.

She can see angels. She also sees demons. Everywhere.

The angels are preparing for war to get her fallen angel boyfriend, Michael, back. A war that could take years.

Haunted by visions of Michael's soul being tortured, Mia can't rest until she knows he's safe.

To save him, she must make an impossible journey through Hell with the one person she prayed she'd never see again.

OTHER BOOKS IN THE SERIES:

Millennia ago, he fell from heaven for her.

Can he face her without falling again?

Fascinated with ancient civilizations, seventeen-year-old Mia Crawford dreams of becoming an archaeologist. She also dreams of wings—soft and silent like snow—and somebody trying to steal them.

When a horrible creature appears out of thin air and attacks her, she knows Michael Fontaine is involved, though he claims to know nothing about it. Secretive and aloof, Michael evokes feelings in Mia that she doesn’t understand. Images of another time and place haunt her. She recognizes them—but not from any textbook.

In search of the truth, Mia discovers a past life of forbidden love, jealousy and revenge that tore an angel from Heaven and sent her to an early grave. Now that her soul has returned, does she have a chance at loving that angel again? Or will an age-old nemesis destroy them both?

Ancient history is only the beginning.

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13665100-the-watcher

Purchase:  BAM | Indies | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | TBD | iBooks

Now that she’s found him again, all Mia Crawford wants is some downtime with her fallen angel boyfriend, Michael. But the call of duty keeps him away—from school and from her—with more demons to smite than ever.

When Michael is mortally wounded by a cursed sword, Mia must perform an ancient blood ritual to save him. But the spell exacts a price. Haunted by visions of war, torture, and despair, Mia discovers the world is in more danger than she ever imagined. Behind the scenes, an evil adversary pulls all the strings.

After redemption, there’s Hell to pay.

Goodreads:  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/23420120-the-angel-killer 

Purchase:  BAM | Indies | Amazon | B&N | Kobo | TBD | iBooks

A Canadian-born author, Lisa Voisin spent her childhood daydreaming and making up stories, but it was her love of reading and writing in her teens that drew her to Young Adult fiction.

Lisa is also a technical writer, a meditation teacher with the Training in Power Academy, and the leader of the Young Writer’s Club, a local writing group for teens in her home town. A self-proclaimed coffee lover, she can usually be found writing in a local café. When she's not writing, you'll find her meditating or hiking in the mountains to counteract the side effects of drinking too much caffeine!

Though she’s lived in several cities across Canada, she currently lives in Vancouver, B.C. with her fiancé and their two cats.

More about Lisa can be found on her web site: http://www.lisavoisin.com or blog: http://lisavoisin.wordpress.com

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 Excerpt - Memory

Michael is sitting on the grassy stream bank, a few feet from where I saw him a week before. When I kissed him. His forearms rest on his bent knees in front of him, and his wings curve out from his back, as soft and enticing as ever. It hasn’t rained in weeks now, and the air is so warm, perspiration soaks my hair and neck. Michael’s skin is dry and glows a faint gold in the filtered sunlight. It’s unnatural, but beautiful.

The rocks grind beneath my sandals, a hint of noise.

He turns to me and smiles, but it does not take the seriousness from his eyes. “Good afternoon.”

“Hello.” I don’t want to stare at him but can’t tear my eyes away. Like a wild tiger’s beauty mesmerizes you, strikes you dumb and speechless the moment before it attacks, I am frozen. Afraid of what he might say.

He motions to the grass beside him, tilts his head to the side. “Sit with me?”

I cross the dirt and roots between us and focus on the stream rippling over the rust-brown rocks. I sit on the grass a few feet away and can feel his energy pelting my skin like a whirlwind. Just to make sure it’s really him, and not a storm coming, I look up. The canopy of leaves is motionless, and a blue magpie lets out several short, sharp chirps from one of the branches, calling for its mate.

Michael picks up a small rock and throws it upstream, the muscles of his arm rippling in a fluid arc. He rubs his hands together to clear the dirt from his fingers.

“I’m glad you came.” His grin is so open, unguarded, it makes my chest swell. I can’t help but smile, too. He reaches for my hand. His is cool in the summer heat and dry from dust. I’m too awed to speak.

He pulls my hand into his chest, drawing me closer. His eyes shine like the summer sky, with both warmth and sadness. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

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