Former bodyguard Mitch Garrison is trained to protect, but something went fatally wrong five years ago when his wife was shot while helping an abused woman. Mitch's nightmares come to life when Julia appears, a jagged purple bruise marring her face. But when her ex-husband kidnaps her children, Julia and Mitch join forces in a journey that brings them face to face with their deepest fears and their most passionate desires.

In a former job surrounded by social workers and in her personal life, Ms. Valleau has seen the effects of child abuse, incest, and violence. Yet amid the stark realities of addictions, anger, abandonment, denial and betrayal shone the bright light of strength, hope and forgiveness.

These triumphs of the human spirit over the ugliest of adversities became the basis for Genene Valleau’s stories. Her passion for writing romance stories became an outlet for the powerful messages that people can overcome great difficulties, and that true love can turn life’s heartaches into happily ever after.

"Ms. Valleau has penned a fantastic story... The plot is explosive with the twists and turns evenly paced. Feathers on the Floor will have you clenching your fist in anger as well as reaching for the tissues a time or two. It is a very emotional read that will leave you with a healthy respect for Ms. Valleau’s style of writing. An absolutely brilliant read! Take a bow Ms Valleau Feathers on the Floor stands up and roars."
Sanda, Kwips and Kritiques

Julia Cabot awoke with the echoes of her own silent screams in her head. She sat, trembling and drenched in sweat, while the moonlight peeked through the jagged slats at the window. She noted with desperate relief that her golden-haired children still slept in a cot beside her, but nothing else was familiar. The framed picture of a sad-eyed clown hung on the wall instead of a Monet carefully placed so guests would notice. The squared shadow of a modest television set occupied a small table instead of an entire room filled with electronic wizardry. A single chair sat beside a stilt-legged table instead of a hand-carved, solid cherry wood dining set purchased from an exclusive antiques dealer.

The thread-bare quilt offered little comfort from the chill air seeping through loosened window panes. Julia shivered as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and walked into the pocket-sized bathroom. A small vase of gaily colored flowers sat cheerfully on the chipped countertop, boldly out of place among the rust-stained fixtures.

As out of place as Julia felt.

Julia glanced into the silvered mirror over the washbasin and gasped. A jagged bruise of bluish-purple smeared across her cheek. She sagged onto the stool as her knees buckled. This could not be!

Her fingers explored the contusion, disillusionment slowly replacing the pain. This--and worse--could have happened to her children. She had been far too forgiving of her husband's increasing moodiness over the past few months.

Julia remembered the exhausted joy of the day her children were born. In a heartbeat, love bound them to her forever. In the space of that same heartbeat, Julia made a choice last night. My children will be safe. No matter what the cost.

Chapter Two

"Where's Mommy?" The flash of neon through mismatched blinds tossed stripes of fuchsia and green across the tow-headed boy. Abraham stretched higher on tiptoe to see over the edge of the bed where his mother should have been asleep.

Angelina paused in climbing onto the mattress to scowl at her four-year-old twin. "In the bathroom. Where's the feather?"

Abraham carefully lifted his cradled hands upward. Angelina plucked the pure white feather from Abe's pudgy palm. "Now say the magic words--"

"The prayer," Abraham stated.

"Same thing."

"Is not."

"Is too." Angelina fisted a hand on her miniature hip and almost lost her balance.

"Grandma said you gotta have fates."

"What's that?"

Abraham puffed up his chest importantly, setting in motion the cartoon characters adorning his footed pajamas. "You get it at church."

Angelina grunted noncommittally as she lifted her mother's pillow and slipped the feather beneath the edge. "Feathers in heaven..."

"Angels above," Abraham chimed in.

"Come to us and share your love."

"What comes next?" Abraham whispered.

Angelina frowned in concentration. "Something about watching stars."

"Stars watching over me."

"Angels are supposed to watch. And it's for Mommy, not you."

"I know that."

"Say it before the magic runs out of the feather."

"Send an angel to watch over Mommy," Abraham said in a rush, then added, "Please." He opened his eyes. "Did it work?"

Angelina looked toward the neon-striped ceiling of the hotel room. "Maybe they're invisible."

Abraham nodded.

"Here comes Mommy." Angelina scrambled down from her perch and into the other bed. The faded cotton blanket she pulled up to her chin contrasted with the pristine white lace on the cuffs of her nightgown.

"Are the angels here yet?" Abraham whispered.

"I heard their wings flutter." Angelina yawned as her eyes drifted closed.