Fire Angel — B.J. McCall

Firefighter Colin Callahan is having a brush with the supernatural. Not only is a tiny light leading him to female victims trapped in burning houses, he's having erotic dreams about an angel.

Ella Lansing is lying in a coma. She wants to wake up but her spirit is busy acting as a guardian angel. Colin is the only person Ella can touch, her only link to the mortal world and her midnight visits with the hunky firefighter are becoming increasingly more interesting.

TO MY READER: I wanted to write a story about an everyday hero confronted with the supernatural. Who makes a better hero than a firefighter? And even a fireman needs an amazing woman to light up his life.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Born a coal miner's daughter B.J. McCall lives on the beautiful Central Coast of California. Multi-published in Ebook and print, B.J. writes sensual romance in contemporary, futuristic, paranormal and fantasy genres.
The phrase “do what you love” applies to B.J. She loves to write and each story is special. She hopes her readers will enjoy each and every one of them.

EXCERPT FIRE ANGEL:
The smell snaked through Ella Lansing's nostrils, registered.
Smoke!
Stark fear speared her brain. Adrenalin rushed. Her muscles clenched and her heart pounded.
Eyes stinging, she jerked upright and stared into the thick smoke-filled darkness. Nostrils burning and lungs screaming, coughs racked Ella's chest.
Fumbling in the dark, she reached for the bedside lamp and turned the switch. Nothing. She couldn't see, couldn't breath. Clawing fear ripped through her.
Don't panic! Think!
911!
Heart thumping wildly in her aching chest, Ella searched for her cellphone, knocking over an empty glass and scattering a shallow bowl of mints with shaking hands. Pushing a paperback and her reading glasses aside, her hand closed over the familiar metallic square. She flipped open the phone and spoke her sister's name.
“Kelli!”
Pick up. Please, pick up.
Gasping, Ella dropped to the floor. If she didn't get air, she'd pass out.
Stay low!
Praying, Ella crawled for the door. The ringing stopped.
No voice mail, please, God.
“Hello.”
Thank God!
“Help,” was all she managed. A spasm of coughing stole her words.
“Ella! What's wrong?”
“Can't breath.” She gasped. “Smoke! Fire!”
“Fire? Where?”
Reaching the hallway, heat seared Ella's face, bare arms and legs. Red flames and black smoke whipped wildly in the stairwell. She was trapped. “Fire!”
“The house is on fire?”
Ella closed her eyes against the scorching heat. “Call 911!”
The swirling smoke forced Ella onto her belly. Coughing and choking, she slithered along the polished oak floor.
Water.
Ella dragged herself into the bathroom and kicked the door shut with her feet, blocking the fierce heat. The tile floor was cooler, but the small room was filled with smoke.
Acrid air filled her nostrils and lungs. Choking, Ella grabbed at the lip of the claw-footed tub, dropping the cellphone as she climbed inside. Surrounded by smoke and darkness, Ella ran her hand along the smooth edge of the bathtub to the faucets and turned on the cold water, full blast. Grabbing a towel off the rack, Ella soaked the thick material and pulled it over her head.
Huddled in the filling bathtub, Ella breathed through the wet towel and prayed for help. Would she die in her bathtub, alone and trembling in fear? Images of her sister, Kelli and her parents came to mind.
The cold water soaked her sweat shorts and T-shirt. Beyond the bathroom door, the flames crackled and hissed.
Please. Please. I don't want to die.
The wail of sirens rent the air, the sweet shrill coming closer with each passing second. Ella prayed for the firemen to find her. She yanked off the towel and tried to scream, but her lungs burned.
Shouts, thumps and bangs mingled with the roar of the fire. Glass shattered.
“Help!”