Authors: Mimi Barbour
His Devious Angel
Angels with Attitudes Series,
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are either the product of the author’s
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales, is
Angels with Attitudes Series
– Book Two
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used
or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without
written permission of the author except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Cover Art by Kate Sterling
Edited by Nan Swanson
Also: Author of
The Vicarage Bench Series
Together for Christmas
Angels with Attitude Series
My Cheeky Angel
His Devious Angel
Praise for My Cheeky Angel
Ms. Barbour is a writer of light, humorous loves stories… Her stories grow in their own way and rooted its roots in the readers heart…I’m carried away again with love and laughter…
By the way, I like the ending full of mischief…wanna find out? Grab your own book then…:)
A fast read…so be ready to fall in love and let your guardian angel find you your perfect someone…
~Avery - Bookshelf Confessions
The characters were believable, the plot moved along ever so nicely and I would easily recommend this romance to anyone wanting a feel good
~Shannon Mayer - Author of the Nevermore Trilogy
Table of Contents
His Devious Angel
“Slow down, Mate! You could kill someone at this speed.”
“What the hell?” Liam tramped on the brake and whipped his head around to stare in the back seat. There sat a stranger who looked rather pale, scrambling for his seat belt. “How did you get into my car?”
“Maybe you should watch the road instead of looking at me? I’m not about to hurt you, just a bloke along for the ride.”
Liam wrenched the wheel and spun over to the curb, the screech of the tires attracting attention. Since he drove a convertible, and the hot sunny day had been perfect for putting the top down, he carefully controlled his voice. “Look, I don’t know how the hell you got into my car or who you are, Mate,” he said, “but you’ve got one minute to get lost, or I’ll be forced to remove you. Trust me; it wouldn’t be pleasant. I’d hurt you just because you’ve pissed me off, scaring the bejesus out of me.”
“Jesus is on my side, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Liam, you could remove me, but I’d only return. You need me with you today.”
Perplexed by the sincerity in his unwanted passenger’s voice, and by the fact that a stranger knew his name, Liam stopped raging. Searching for control, he took a couple of deep breaths, gritted his teeth and asked, “Why?”
“To stop you from killing someone.”
“Okay, Bub! You’re outta here.” Furious at letting his guard down and getting played, Liam bolted from the front seat. He wrenched open the back door, and motioned with his thumb.
“I’ll only come back.” The slim male with the dark hair and cynical attitude didn’t move. Instead he crossed his arms and glared up at Liam. Familiar looking, he had Liam searching for who he reminded him of. The pirate's jerkin, flowing white blousy shirt and tight leather pants were clues, but they didn’t add up at first. It was the haircut that solidified his speculation. The guy looked enough like a young Johnny Depp to be his twin. Only his strong English accent didn’t fit the picture.
“Stop playing silly buggers and get out of my car.” Liam leaned in and his fingers met—air, because there was no one in his back seat. Stunned, he sagged against the side of the vehicle.
As if his intentions hadn’t changed, his fingers continued reaching towards his hair, getting stuck in his wild mess. With a yank, he pushed them to the back of his head, interlocked his hands and studied the ground. Covertly, he peeked around him to see if anyone had noticed him talking to—what? A ghost?
He hadn’t been drinking the night before. Deciding the time had come to cool it with the late nights, he’d turned off the idiot box at ten after the football game and for once had gotten an early night. Actually managed to sleep for four consecutive hours before he woke and thrashed the rest of the night before luckily fall into another dreamless nap for maybe an hour. Five hours in one night—unheard of for him. Therefore, he couldn’t blame this lapse on being hung over or even on extreme tiredness. Blinking, he studied the back seat again. Still empty.
His cell phone rang, and he wiggled to free it from the pocket of his jeans. When he looked at call display, his eyes widened and he snorted. The word "Heaven" showed clearly on the screen.