Equinox II - ISBN #1-84360-828-6
Fantasy Shoppe - Eye of the Hawk By Annalise , Annalise
Adara, a Welsh widow, must find protection for her sister who has been attacked by an English soldier. Only one man offers help-Gavin, captain of the English guard. Adara must live under Gavin’s hated hawk badge. She barters her body for his protection but cannot keep her heart untouched.
Images in an enchanted athame indicate that Adara’s missing family is well. She must decide her future, whether to go west with her family or stay with a man who has shown her that the vanquished can also be victor, and the victor may be conquered.
Moon Dance By Vonna Harper
An ancient dagger, magic, mystery, the ancient German traditions of Ostara, and a dark, decrepit castle along the romantic Rhine River draw Derika Huber and Ritter Reinhard together. But their heated and out-of-control couplings aren’t for them alone. Lady Mina, an ancient presence, relives her own brief, hot marriage via the sweating bodies. And then there’s Eostara, Goddess of Spring and fertility
Night and Darkness By Cassie Walder
Torn between her priestly vows and two very different men who both want her, Alia Raveensdautter is at a crossroads in her life. Possibilities stretch before her. Duty prescribes her actions. Forbidden love tempts her. Dangers lurk in unexpected places. The mystical Athame, the Blade of Destiny, has come to aid her near the time of the Equinox. But only time will tell if the Blade can be enough help for Alia.
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Excerpt
Light from at least a half dozen small fires flickered in the dark. The nearly full moon cast silvery-red light on the endless sweep of vineyards surrounding the Rhine River as it flowed through southern Germany’s small, ancient towns and sweeping countryside.
When she’d driven out of the hamlet of Siebenborn, thirty-something year old Derika Ritter hadn’t noticed the steep terrain. Now, as she climbed the narrow country road, the vista held her attention and fed her with energy.
Despite the night’s chill, she kept the windows on her rental down. After all, a Chicago University Applied Mathematics and Numerical Analysis professor didn’t get to Germany that often.
Soon enough she’d amass the logical argument necessary to putting an end to Great-Aunt Helga’s insane plan to buy and, with the help of some building contractor she’d raved about, renovate a 13th century castle. In the meantime, what was the harm in soaking up the mystique of a land, seemingly, caught in the past.
Yes, her cell phone lay beside her, her laptop was on the back seat, and she’d packed her high tech vibrator, but alone and touched by the moon, she’d already lost touch with the present, specifically her current grant-financed developmental work engineering computational tools.
A castle. She was going to spend the next few days in a castle.
The country road wound through what appeared to be individually owned and maintained vineyards-so much for industrialization. Occasionally her route took her within a few feet of small brick buildings where she assumed the farmers-was that what grapevine owners were called?-lived. She’d apologize for invading their privacy if she wasn’t so taken by the silent, moon-kissed vineyards. The plants appeared ready to put winter’s hibernation behind them, eager to begin spring’s growth.
“They aren’t the only ones,” she muttered, surprised by the admission. She’d lived through a Chicago winter without really being aware of what was happening outside, but she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, teaching three graduate level courses in addition to her independent work in electronic design automation had kept her chained to her computer through the long, brisk nights and short, cold days. Even several fierce storms had gone practically unnoticed.
“It’s nearly spring,” she told herself. “On the cusp.”
Sure is. And in spring, a woman’s fancy turns to her pussy-filling it with the requisite cock. You know, shaking off the cobwebs.
A whiff of woodsmoke distracted her. She wasn’t close to any of the small fires, but the wind must be blowing smoke in her direction. Were the farmers burning plant trimmings?
No, nothing so ordinary. This is some kind of ritual.
Where did that thought come from? You have no use for superstitious nonsense.
Still, instead of punching the gas pedal and concentrating on what she had no doubt would be a wreck of a castle, she continued at a slow pace and tried to ignore the ache between her legs. Damn it, why had she started thinking about sex?
So, don’t.
I’m trying, she retorted to whoever she was having an argument with. What was it she’d told Aunt Helga before reluctantly agreeing to come here, that she simply didn’t have the time or inclination to play tourist? True, her mother’s side of the family’s roots were in Germany, but that didn’t mean anything. She’d put up the same argument two years ago when Aunt Helga had sent her a first class ticket to Frankfurt and practically forced her to join a tour group. She’d done so because, despite the old lady’s dogmatic nature, she loved Aunt Helga. Besides, Aunt Helga could afford to spoil her only great niece. Hell, she could afford a castle.
So, would it be so bad? If it makes her happy, let her take title to something older than dirt-something bound to give new meaning to the term money pit.
The road began a steep assent, and, thighs squeezed together, she concentrated on staying on pavement-at least she tried to tell herself that’s all she was doing. After a few more turns, she reached an overlook of sorts. Her vantage point afforded her a breathtaking view of the broad, slow Rhine, which came to life in the Swiss Alps and eventually emptied into the North Sea. Moonlight glittered off the river and turned it into something otherworldly. Coupled with the sweep of close-growing grapevines, the impact was enough to bring tears to her eyes, something she hadn’t done since-since the other time she’d been to Germany. The countryside was truly beautiful-at least it was this time of year with new grass pushing through the ground and the smell of young life in the air. At the thought, her free hand stole between her legs, and she pressed against the insistent throb.
So move here if you love it so much.
I don’t! I have a life where I live, an exciting and challenging and satisfying career.
So turn around and go back.
I can’t. I promised-
What would you go back to anyway? An upscale, overpriced yuppie apartment, a filled-to-the-ceiling university office, fucking what’s-his-face when your vibrator doesn’t do the job?
Don’t knock it. It works.
Sure it does.
Brought short by the sarcastic comment, Derika pulled her hand off her crotch and resolutely turned her attention back to driving. Germany was not getting to her. It wasn’t!