Skip to main content

Book Tour--The Angel Scroll

 

 


BLURB:

ONE ANCIENT PROPHECY, TWO HEARTBROKEN LOVERS, AND A WORLDWIDE SCAVENGER HUNT FOR THREE MIRACULOUS PAINTINGS.

After her husband’s death, New York artist Claire Lucas has baffling dreams and waking visions as she channels an enigmatic and healing painting of a holy man in India at the deathbed of a young woman. When widowed antiquarian Richard Markson announces that Claire’s canvas is one-third of three paintings prophesied by the Angel Scroll, a recently discovered Dead Sea parchment, she is pulled into an international scavenger hunt to find the stolen scroll and the paintings it predicts.

As she pursues the paintings with Richard across historic and holy sites in America, Israel, and Europe, Claire encounters a series of remarkable teachers. A Buddhist, a Benedictine monk, and a professor of early goddess worship all provide rich explanations for the artist’s compelling and perplexing psychic experiences — until she assembles the incredible triptych and deciphers its inspirational message for the modern world.

EXCERPT One:


In Benares, India, the sweltering night dragged on. Moonlight slid through the bedroom window and bathed the young, Christlike figure who sat cross-legged on the floor. Only a loincloth covered his slender hips, and his long, coarse hair was coiled in a topknot on his crown. He’d been watching the young woman on the low bed for hours. She was feverish, her breathing shallow, as she squinted at him now through half- closed lids. Her husband held her hand and shot the young man a pleading look. “Please let her live. I’m a rich man. I can pay you. I can help the poor of Benares, the poor of India.”

“To thwart death is not to conquer it,” the young master said, and the husband buried his head in the bed’s embroidered cover. In a single, fluid movement, the holy man rose and stroked his host’s bent head, His long, graceful fingers raking the dark hair, slick with perfumed oil, revealing a channel of pale, moist scalp.

Beyond the bedroom, in the narrow hallway, the master found his three companions propped against a wall and dozing. He tapped the closest with a calloused foot, and one by one the sleeping men awoke. “Is she well now?” the tall one asked, stretching.

“She will be dead come dawn,” his master whispered, as the four men stepped into the dusty and deserted Indian night.

The phone rang. Claire woke up and realized her face was wet. She’d been crying again. She eyed the clock—9 a.m. She cleared her throat, picked up the phone, and tried to sound awake. “Hello?”

“You still sleeping?” Claire held the phone away from her ear to stop Deirdre Vetch’s whine from piercing her brain. “You’re coming to the gallery to talk about the painting, right? We must talk.” Deirdre’s verbal pummeling began.

AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Penelope Holt was born and educated in England and now lives in New York. She is a novelist,


playwright, business writer, and marketing executive, whose work has been performed at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, York Arts Center, and New York’s American Folk Theater. In addition to writing fiction,
  The Angel Scroll, and The Apple, based on the controversial Herman Rosenblat Holocaust romance, Holt is a prolific writer, editor, and co-author of non-fiction, including Business Intelligence at Work A Personal Operating System for Career Success, Singing God’s Work, the story of the Harlem Gospel Choir, and many other works. She is married with two children.

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Angel-Scroll-Prophecy-Destiny-Novel-ebook/dp/B0D56KD3N5/ref=monarch_sidesheet_title

Click on the Rafflecopter link for a chance to win a $25 Amazon or BN gift card.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

An AI-generated look at Winter Creek

 Okay, I'll admit it. I like using AI for pictures. All the Winter Creek covers are created that way. (I like the way they came out.) I've also been messing around with Copilot, and came up with some pictures of the town and people. The saloon from Entangled Hearts  The shop from Dressmaker's Dilemma    The classroom from Trusting the Cowboy And, for the soon-to-be released More Than a Kiss      Not to mention, an AI-generated picture of Winter Creek itself.    I really need to start writing again.    Oh, almost forgot, all of my Winter Creek books at 50% off the entire month of July. Why not go and check it out?   https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TheresaStillwagon6651

Guest post-- How one author comes up with idea?

  In The Misremembered Lighthouse , historian and author Hayley Hunter rents a lighthouse converted into a rental property near the North Carolina coast. She uses it as a base to research her next book and continue her genealogy work, only to discover that the original lighthouse keeper, a Scottish immigrant named Jonathan Corbyn, haunts it. The lighthouse was inspired by the Ocracoke Light Station, which was only in use for less than twenty years due to shifting channels, and by the Wicklow Head Lighthouse in Ireland, which has been turned into a holiday rental. I loved its round rooms, natural lighting, spiraling staircases, and views of the water, skies, and seabirds. I combined the two to create the Corbyn Lighthouse near Wilmington, North Carolina, which is named for its only keeper, Jonathan Corbyn. I am intrigued by the Scots who migrated to North Carolina after the Battle of Culloden in Scotland, only to be called up to fight for the British during the American Revolu...

Blurb fo Winter Creek, Montana series

Winter Creek, Montana is a series of light paranormal books with interfering ghosts and hot cowboys.    Both of those give the women of Winter Creek a hard time.    Here's the overall blurb for the series. This came from the first book, Entangled Hearts, out Oct. 1. You can pre-order it now at  Smashwords .   Enjoy!!!   Return to Winter Creek   A peculiar stillness blanketed Winter Creek as Jen entered through the guarded gate, flashing her WCHA identification at the same sentry she had  encountered  days before. The silence held no menace for her; some might call it the hush of the dead, but nothing in the air or on Main Street suggested the presence of  spirits.   The Saloon Encounter   Inside the saloon, Jen made her way to the center. No voices whispered, no eerie scents lingered—only the usual sigh of the October wind outside. “Grace, are you here?” she called, moving through the bar to the cluttered back room. There,...