I wanted to be an angel, so I took an angel’s name.

When the French madame gave me the opportunity to escape poverty by whoring for men, I took that, too.

I would take it again.

Make no mistake, I am a bastard. If you touch me, I will hurt you. And I assure you, I can hurt you in ways you’ve never dreamed.


“Gabriel is the most mesmerizing example of angst in print.” —

Two 13-year-old run-away boys were lured into prostitution. Michael, the dark-haired one, for women. Gabriel, the fair-haired one, for men. Now they are 40-year-old men. And they still run from the death and destruction that is their past.


Gabriel’s Woman Excerpt

Gabriel knew the woman in the lusterless cloak. He knew her because he had once been her.

Cold. Hungry.

The perfect prey and the perfect predator.

She came to kill an angel. She wouldn’t live to see the dawn.

Jumbled voices spiraled upward on ribbons of yellow fog and gray smoke. Men in black dress coats and white waistcoats and women in shimmering gowns and winking jewels shifted inside a flickering maze of candlelit tables: standing, sitting; leaning back in Honduras mahogany chairs, slanting forward over white silk tablecloths.

They did not know they were bait, the English ton who sought pleasure and the London whores who sought their wealth. They did not know that a woman stalked them.

Gabriel’s body throbbed with knowledge.

Of pleasure. Of wealth.

Of life. Of death.

By reopening the House of Gabriel—a tavern where every carnal desire could be satisfied—he invited both patrons and prostitutes. Sex and murder.

White flame shot upward.

Twenty feet below him, a man snared his gaze.

A man whose hair was as dark as Gabriel’s was fair. A man with violet eyes instead of silver.

His right cheek was pitted with shadow.

Twenty-seven years of memories arced between them. Images of war-hungry France instead of winter-shrouded England. Of two half-starved thirteen-year-old boys instead of two forty-year-old men in tailored black dress coats and white waistcoats.

My two angels, the madame who had plucked them off a Paris street had said. A dark one, for the women. A fair one, for the men.

She had trained them to be whores, and they had excelled at it. She had taught them the eighth deadly sin, and they had broken it.

The flare of candle flame dimmed, abruptly recalling Gabriel to the pistol that weighted his left hand.

Michael, the scarred angel, had come to protect Gabriel, the untouchable angel.

Revenge would not be possible without him. Without him, there would be no need for revenge.

The woman would die because a dark-haired angel lived.

And loved. …

Praise for Gabriel’s Woman
Gabriel is the most mesmerizing example of angst in print.

Gabriel is the most mesmerizing example of angst in print…Frankly sensual from the first page to the last, the book’s poignant sex is made all the more riveting by Gabriel’s agonizing hunger for acceptance and love.

Only a master could create this kind of erotic and emotionally powerful work. ~RT Book Reviews, Top Pick

I can’t help but admire this author’s sparse writing style, her intensity … and her unflinching honesty. ~All About Romance

I can’t help but admire this author’s sparse writing style, her intensity, her frank evaluation and portrayal of male-female relationships, and her unflinching honesty in presenting an uncomfortable and dark world. Gabriel’s Woman is more a psychological thriller than a romance. But when Gabriel finally realizes his happily ever after, it doesn’t matter one bitte. ~All About Romance, Desert Isle Keeper

« La reina de la literatura romántica actual.» ABC

«Seducción y romanticismo. Erotismo, pero también suculentos ingredientes históricos. Con estas apetitosas viandas y una pizquita de misterio, nutre sus novelas Robin Schone, considerada por la crítica (y centenares de miles de lectores a ambos lados del Atlántico) como la reina de la literatura romántica actual.» ABC


Please email Robin any international book covers that are not listed. Thank you.