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DESTINY GIFT
Genre: NA paranormal romance
Word Count: 73,000
Release date: April 1st, 2013
Thirty years in the
future, a sinister New York City exists in permanent darkness.
A student at the secured
NYU, nineteen-year-old Nadine has visions of Victor Gianni, an imaginary guy
she has real feelings for. Afraid of being truly insane, she explains the
visions away as simple daydreams, but she can no longer deny them when she
bumps into Victor in real life. But this Victor doesn’t know her, and turns her
away. After the encounter, Nadine’s visions change to those of eerie fates,
gods she’s never heard of, demons with sharp claws they are not too timid to
use … and instructions.
To discover if she’s
losing her mind, Nadine follows the vague directions—with the real, rude and
reluctant Victor—leading to a man who knows it all: Nadine can restore an
ancient creed by unveiling the clues on her visions, and bring sunlight and
peace to the world again. But that’s only if the demons and the other evil
forces behind the darkness don’t stop her first.
About
the Author
While Juliana Haygert dreams of being Wonder Woman, Buffy, or
a blood elf shadow priest, she settles for the less exciting—but equally
gratifying—life of a wife, mother, and author.
Thousands of miles away from her
former home in Brazil, she now resides in Connecticut and spends her days
writing about kick-ass heroines and the heroes who drive them crazy.
Website | Blog | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads | NA Alley
Excerpt:
I
heard a heavy sigh and turned toward it. It was Victor. He was leaving the
elevator down the hall and coming toward his grandma’s room. He had seen me and
didn’t seem happy about it.
He
wore faded jeans, a T-shirt, and a thin jacket. Too casual. I shook my head.
The fact that my dream Victor and this real Victor were exactly the same
physically, while their clothing styles and posture were the opposite of each
other still boggled my mind.
He
came to a stop before me. “You again.” There was disdain in his tone. I
cringed.
“How
are you?” I managed to ask and immediately felt silly. I had planted myself
here in this hallway for over an hour waiting for him, and when he finally
arrived, I didn’t know what to say. Though I really did want to know how he
was. The last time I had seen him in the flesh, he’d been jerking on the floor
of the hospital’s garage, in pain. “What was that … ah … before …?” I trailed
off, hoping he would understand what I was referring to.
He
shrugged, his sea-green eyes still staring at me with suspicion. “I don’t know.
By the way, how do you know my name?”
I
twirled a lock of my hair around my index finger as I considered my answer. I
wanted to answer him. I wanted to be honest, but he would never believe me.
As
if my answer would pop out of the walls, I scanned the hallway.
At
the end of the corridor, a nurse left a room and entered another.
“The
nurse,” I almost shouted, hoping he wouldn’t notice my sudden lie. I avoided
his inquisitive eyes. “I heard a nurse calling you earlier that day.”
His
deadpan expression hid his thoughts and didn’t let me know if he was buying it
or not.
“What
did you do to me last night?” he asked, crossing his arms. God, I hated how his
voice and his posture were so guarded and mistrustful. I wasn’t used to it.
“What
do you mean?”
“When
you touched me, the shock and the pain went away. How did you do that?”
“I
don’t know.” This time I wasn’t lying. I really didn’t know. He frowned,
clearly still suspicious. “Seriously, I have no idea.”
His
shoulders stiffened. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”
My
eyes widened as I retreated a few steps, trying to avoid his toxic tone.
Yes,
he looked like my Victor—the same voice, the same hair, the same face, the same
mouth that had offered me smiles that had rendered me breathless many, many
times. I wanted to touch him, to embrace him, to tell him everything was going
to be okay. Maybe if I touched him, he would remember me and he would want to
touch me too.
I
came closer to him, looking deeply into those wary green eyes, my fingers
itching to stroke his skin, to feel it smoldering under my caress. But I
didn’t. He was like my Victor, but he wasn’t my Victor. The Victor from
my visions would never speak to me like this. He would never snap at me. No,
no. My Victor loved my company, loved to hear me sing, loved to embrace me and
inhale my scent.
“I’m
sorry,” I whispered, my voice croaking under the heavy pressure inside my
chest.
Then,
I walked away.
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