Gaelic Goddess

Boruma Publishing

No one grieved for Mick Phelan when he died. The old lawyer had been a terrible father and a horrible man, poisoning his children with his hate.

But an unexpected inheritance was waiting for his grandson Thomas. An Irish goddess who Mick had ensnared decades ago showed up on his doorstep, begging him to free her from bondage.

Now Tom and Rhiannon must navigate a treacherous road. Will their growing attraction for one another allow them to part the mists of time and release her from slavery? Or will Rhiannon be bound forever, a fate worse than death for this Gaelic Goddess?

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

Tom took a deep breath. “Rhiannon, I ask that you return your body to the form that most pleases you.”

Rhiannon's head snapped back and she gave a low moan. She stumbled unsteadily to her feet, hunched around her middle, bracing one hand on the arm of the couch. As he looked on, wide-eyed, a golden glow began to form around her body, centered on her breasts and her groin. He was forced to turn away, his eyes spouting tears, the light too bright to face.

Rhiannon gave a sudden shout, piercing and clear, and with a last flash, quick as a bolt of lightning, the light went out, leaving them again in the dim light of his living room. Blinking, Tom turned to look at Rhiannon.

She was standing by the sofa, a look of astonished wonder on her face. “By all the gods above and below, I thank you, Thomas Phelan,” she said.

Face flaming, he stood and walked toward his bedroom door. This was too intense. Too private. He felt like he had stumbled across a woman giving birth, or soulmates sharing their first kiss.

“Stop.”

 

He halted in his tracks.

“Thomas,” she said, her voice low and vibrant.

“Yes?” he said, but did not turn to face her.

“I would like it very much if you stayed here with me,” she said.

“Are you sure?” he said nervously.

“Very much so. Who better to witness when Rhiannon, Goddess of fertility and the harvest, reclaims part of her legacy, than the one who made it possible?”

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Additional Information

Publisher
Boruma Publishing
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Published on
Oct 13, 2015
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Pages
48
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ISBN
9781311236876
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Language
English
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Genres
Fiction / Erotica / General
Fiction / Romance / Erotica
Fiction / Romance / Paranormal
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Content Protection
This content is DRM protected.
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Available on Android devices
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Three arousing tales of paranormal love, sex, and desire!

Gaelic Goddess - Thom Phelan inherits an incredibly sexy fertility goddess from his hated grandfather.

Holy Water - Charlie Schuler returns from war to reunite with a beautiful river spirit who has very erotic plans for him!

The Snow Maid - Bill Carter is rescued from certain death by an immortal nature spirit whose lusty sensuality stuns him!

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“My parents think I'm strange, you know,” he told Lily. They were sitting companionably on the bank of the creek, tossing pebbles into the clear water, their feet dangling in the stream. The sweet smell of plum blossoms floated by them in the warm breeze.

“I wish you had let Maggie see you when I brought her here,” he continued, somewhat peevishly. “Or Mama. Then they would know you were real, and not an imaginary friend. Mama told me not to talk about you where anyone else could hear me.”

Lilaea ignored the subject, just as she did any she did not wish to discuss. “The turtles are out,” she said with a smile, pointing at three lumpy objects basking in the sun.

Charlie followed her as she turned, and the breeze brought the scent of her hair to his nose. He shifted uncomfortably. Over the past year he had been growing more and more aware of Lily's physical presence during their time together. In fact, it was now a rare day when he did not have to duck into the barn after spending time with her and bring himself to shuddering release.

Today Lily was wearing a dress which seemed to incorporate all the flowers of spring. Thousands of delicate petals were somehow woven together into a multi-hued pastel garment which clung to her body like a second skin. From his vantage point beside her, he could peek down the open neckline and see the swells of her breasts.

She turned back towards him, her eyes wicked, and he flushed crimson.

“What were you looking at, naughty little boy?”

“I'm not little anymore,” he said, stung by her tone. “I'm taller than you are now.” Indeed, that had been a day to savor last autumn, when he finally passed her in height.

Lily flipped a hand dismissively. “All little boys are the same. They all want what they can't have.”

Hardly daring to breathe, Charlie reached out his hand and took hers, their fingers entwining. “I'm not like other boys,” he said.

She turned her head and looked deep into his eyes. He sank into them, feeling as if he were drowning. She cupped his cheeks in her tan hands, the cool skin a balm on his hot face.

“No, you're not." Soft as a whisper, her lips brushed his cheek, making him burn.

Author Mark Watford didn't expect to fall in love when he moved into the old farmhouse. But Brianna, his landlady's beautiful daughter, quickly captured his heart.

But Mark and Brianna are not alone. A presence has been watching them. One fateful night, it makes its presence known. Will Mark and Brianna's love be able to survive when she's been…POSSESSED BY THE POLTERGEIST?

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

~One hundred years,~ her long-dead aunt whispered. She stopped beside Bree's chair, looking down at her as she shrank away in fear. ~One hundred years of waiting, hoping that the next generation would give birth to a woman who would not throw her maidenhood away like a broken toy. One hundred years, until you came along, Brianna. It is time. I lost my life in anger, furious that my virginity could not be given to my one true love, dead and buried half a world away. Now, through you, I will experience that joy. And if God is kind, he will allow me to leave this world to be reunited with Jimmy in Heaven.~

Brianna's throat worked, caught between pity and terror. “Wait, what?”

Mark was looking at her worriedly. “Bree, are you all right?”

She held her hands up, trying to fend off his questions and a world which was suddenly moving too quickly. Her Aunt Hazel, on the other hand, had no such qualms. As easily as she would step from one room to another, she moved towards her and let her ghostly body merge with Bree's.

~Oh, God,~ a voice sighed in her ear. ~To have a body again. And such a fair one. Thank you, Grandniece.~

To her horror, she heard her voice, sounding thick and slurred when it emerged form her lips. “Mark, I'm tired of waiting. Let's go upstairs and make love.”

Mark leaned back in his chair. His eyes, reflecting the flames of the candles on the table, were wide and panicked. “What? No. No way. Bree, what's wrong with you? You sound terrible.”

No! Her head rang with the echoes of her silent shout. I won't let you do this to me! Caught between opposing forces, her body lurched back and forth in her chair. One moment it tried to rise to its feet. The next it settled back with a thump as one woman or the other gained a momentary advantage.

Mark pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and tried to dial, his fingers shaking. He looked at the screen with disbelief as it refused to follow his commands. Swearing, he jumped up and picked up the land line, finding that completely inoperative as well.

~No electronics.~ Hazel's voice was grimly amused. ~None of the tools or toys you use in this decadent age. Only two people, and their love. And me.~

No! How can you do this? How can you violate me by forcing me against my will? Have you no humanity left?

~But I need to!~ Hazel's voice wailed. ~Please! I don't know how much longer I can stay sane! You have no idea how terrible my existence is. How much I hate it. Please, I just need to make love one time, then I can move on. Would you have me become a spirit of anger and hatred, haunting this house until no one is willing to live here? Until it becomes a tottering wreck, filled with rats and vermin, fit only for a bulldozer?~

Then work with me, not against me, Brianna countered. Do you think I don't care about you? God, Aunt Hazel, you're my own blood! And if you have been watching us, you know how much Mark and I care for each other. We are in love. It was only a matter of time before I decided to give myself to him. I chose tonight. If you hadn't blighted the mood, we'd probably be in his bed right now.

She took a deep breath, ignoring Mark's frantic dithering. If this is what you need to move on, I will help. But you are going to be a passenger in this body. Not its operator.
Mary was running away from a lifetime of abuse, looking only for a safe place to raise her children. Eveline had been rejected by her family, and was trying to start her life over. When chance threw them together, it was only a matter of time before the sparks of desire caught fire. But will their mutual attraction be enough? Only time will tell, as Mary attempts to embrace her…Innocent Passion.

 

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

 

“We're home!” Becca shouted cheerfully as Mary turned on the lights. She took off her jacket, then helped Debbie do the same thing, hanging them up neatly on the battered coatrack by the door. Free of the jacket, Debbie toddled over to her, her small round face creased in a frown.

 

“I'm hungwy, Mommy,” she said.

 

“I'll have something ready for you in a few minutes, sweetheart,” she said absently. Then she realized that Evey was looking at her with something like horror in her eyes.

 

*****

 

'Mommy?' This child? Evey's mind reeled. She had thought the two girls were Mary's nieces. Or perhaps she was a babysitter. She looked at the two children and her mind did some rapid mental math. She couldn't have been more than fifteen when her first child was conceived. If that. Maybe less.

 

Mary looked at her, her chin raised, daring her to say something. “They're both mine,” she said with painful dignity, “and no one is going to take them away from me.”

 

“I wasn't judging,” she replied quietly. “I do social work myself. I've seen worse, believe me. I've seen thirteen-year-old boys strung out on heroin. I've seen women who shouldn't even be allowed to be near children having baby after baby. I've seen...too much,” she finished lamely, unwilling to catalog all of the horrors she had seen over the last three years.

 

“You talk funny,” Rebecca observed, from a spot down around her knees.

 

“Rebecca!” Mary said, her voice horrified. She looked at Evey in apology. Instead, she knelt down to kiss the child's cheek.

 

“Ah do, don't ah, punkin?” she said, emphasizing her Georgia drawl. “Why, bless yo heart, but you're just as sweet as pah.”

 

The little girl giggled, then spun away to sit on the couch. “You mentioned a shower?” Eveline asked, feeling her frigid, waterlogged jeans sticking uncomfortably to her thighs.

 

“Of course,” Mary said, blushing. She led her down a short hall to a bathroom. “Just toss your clothes outside the door. I'll put them in the dryer. It's one of the few extras this place has.”

 

She skinned out of her wet clothes quickly, tossed them blindly out the bathroom door, then stepped under the blessedly hot spray of the shower, letting the heat soak into her bones. Unwilling to get her long black hair wet when she had a long drive home in terrible weather, she lathered with a bar of soap over and over, until the last remnants of chill had been driven away.

 

She stepped out, drying herself with a threadbare but clean towel. She was just hanging it up and beginning to wonder what she was gong to wear while her clothes finished drying when there was a polite tap at the door. Mary came in, with a small pile of clothes held in her arms.

 

“I thought these might fit,” she started, then broke off, staring at her naked body. Her pale face, her skin like cream under Evey's gaze, flushed scarlet.

 

Eveline kept her face carefully neutral. Oh. So it's like that, is it? But inside, her heart leaped, even as her belly spasmed in frustrated longing. Two children, and a lesbian? She must have one hell of a story to tell. And I doubt it's a happy one.

 

“Thanks,” she said calmly, taking the clothes.

 

“I've...I've got your clothes in the dryer,” Mary stuttered, still unable to peel her eyes away from her chest. “Come on out when you’re ready.”

Sexy high school seniors Stacie and Tabitha are best friends in more ways than one! Teammates on the volleyball court, these hot girls are lovers as well!

But now their good-looking history teacher has been appointed the temporary coach of the volleyball team. Will these lusty young ladies be able to reach their ultimate goal, and drag Coach Glassman into bed?

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

“Mr. Glassman?”

He looked up from his notes in the small coach's office next to the locker room. The practice had gone well, and he was thinking about making another change to the starting lineup. Consuela Barton, a tiny Filipina girl who had been adopted and brought to America by her childless parents, had thrown her body around with reckless abandon. Alan thought she might replace one of the girls on the back line.

Tabitha Harrington stood in the doorway, Stacie Reynolds looking over her shoulder.

“What can I do for you, Tabby?” He stood up, then frowned. “I thought everyone had left.”

Tabby nodded. “We waited until everyone else was gone,” she said. “I didn't want anyone to hear what I had to say to you.

“I wanted to thank you,” she said, voice trembling a little. “No teacher has ever stood up for me like you did today. Mr. Walton certainly wouldn't have.”

Alan sat on the edge of his desk, putting his eyes nearly level with the redhead. “Well, I can't speak for the rest of the staff. A lot of them are old and set in their ways.”

“More like fossilized,” said Stacie from her position in the doorway.

“But I won't let anyone use your...your sexual orientation as a way to mock you, any more than I would let someone make racist remarks about Jasmine or Consuela.”

“I know you won't,” said Tabitha. She took another step into the room, then paused for a moment. Alan regretted the fact that his lower body was exposed.

That's all you need. To get an erection and for these two to see it and report you. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to think of an excuse to quickly usher the two beautiful girls out of his office.

Suddenly, Tabby moved to his side and hugged him. He could feel her breasts pressing against his arm and her muscled legs were warm at his side. Before he could react she had raised her face and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her dark blue eyes shining. “I mean it.”

Alan cleared his throat nervously. “Tabby, I appreciate your…gratitude, but this isn't really appropriate,” he stammered.

“I understand,” she said softly, backing away. Although her voice was contrite, he thought he could detect the hint of a smirk in the curve of her lips.

Before he could say anything else, Stacie had entered the office, which was becoming distinctly crowded.

“It's really not fair,” she remarked. “I'm the one who has the hots for you, so why does she get to kiss you first?” Shouldering Tabby aside, she stepped into the vee of Alan's sitting legs, so close he could feel her small, exquisitely formed breasts through the cloth separating them. Leaning forward, she kissed him flush on the mouth, moaning softly. Her mouth opened quickly, her tongue swiping across his lips, as if she was sampling how he tasted.

Unable to respond, Alan blinked as she pulled away slightly. Gasping, he realized she had her hands on his thighs, her fingers slowly working their way towards his groin.

He came to his senses, almost panicking. “You have to leave,” he hissed. “Now. If someone saw this I'd be fired, and no school district would ever hire me again.”

Stacie opened her mouth, but Alan cut her off. Gently, but firmly, he removed her hand from his legs. “You're putting my entire future at risk, Stacie. Please stop.

“Go home. This never happened.”

Lord William Suffieled was sailing to America with his new wife and her maid. But when their ship is taken by a crew of all-female pirates, he finds himself their unwilling captive. Who is Captain Grace O'Leary? And what does she have planned for him? Now William, his wife Constance, and their maid Molly are all sailing on the "Tides of Lust!"

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

Grace watched as a riot of emotions chased themselves across William’s face. Confusion, understanding, a bright surge of hope, an answering darkness as he shook his head.

“I am married, my lady captain,” he said, taking refuge in formality.

Damn the man! Why did he have to be so…so honorable?

She would not, would not beg, she swore to herself. “True.” She backed away and leaned against a bulkhead, crossing her arms under her breasts, using the motion to lift them slightly. Her lip twitched as she caught William noticing. “But do you wish to go to her bed, as her husband, with this hanging over your head?

“One night, William. I offer nothing more. And nothing less.

“You say she is cold to you. I am not. I am not like my sisters. I am not drawn to them. I want…” Their eyes locked suddenly, sea-gray meeting his dark blue, like the twilight sky in the last moments before true night fell. “I want a man. I want to feel him inside me. I want muscles and strong arms and legs and something long and hard I can ride.”

She watched him lift the glass to his lips, swallowing the last of the whiskey. Slowly, he rose to his feet and set the glass aside, and she despaired, sure he was about to leave.

In two long strides, he was next to her. She gasped as she felt his arms close around her, holding her tight. She felt his head nestle against her hair, and she returned his embrace, knowing without being told his need for simple human comfort.

When they parted, his eyes were shining in the lamplight. “So,” he murmured. “How do you want to do this?”

“I want to make love to you,” she answered. She held up her hand as he tried to speak. “Not with you. To you.

“Stand over there,” she said, using her chin to point at the curtained alcove where her bunk lay. “Very good,” she smiled as he obeyed her order. She followed, looking up at him, admiring his well-made body. Even as she did, she could feel her pulse begin race excitedly, her body preparing itself for love.

Seven weeks. Seven weeks since they had left port. Seven weeks since she’d had a man. Touching herself until she gained release was not nearly enough, and even if she had been like some of the other women on the ship, who did not blink at taking female lovers, doing so would have undermined her authority.

“What-“ but she cut him off.

“I am making love to you,” she repeated. She stepped closer, running her hands over the fine cloth of his shirt, feeling the strong muscles underneath. For once she was glad William was not dressed in his customary finery. He looked very well in the clothes of a lord, but getting him out of them…

That would take far too long.

Finian is an apprentice to his grandfather, High Druid of all Britain. Eilonwy is the daughter of the queen of the dryads. When the high druid died, their world was thrown into tumult. For generations the druids had merged their bloodlines with the spirits of stone, sea, and sky, the better to bridge the gaps between their worlds.

But now a new age is dawning. Rome, with its mighty military and its new gods, thinks little of the tribes of Britain. If Finian and Eilonwy are to weather the storm, they will have to learn to work together, despite their differences. And what role will Aurelia, half-blood daughter of the governor of Corinium, play in our tale? She has seen the future through the gift of her mother's people, but will she have the strength to embrace her fate?

Old foes become new allies, and desire erupts in the most unlikely of places. Because, despite all they can do, Eilonwy, Finian, and Aurelia are all caught in the web of…The Dryad's Passion.

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

“What,” she asked, “was that?”

Finian grinned up at her like a fool, his face full of a joy that echoed her own. “Humans call it an orgasm.”

“And human women…have these…orgasms…often?”

He shrugged, seemingly embarrassed, and sat back on his heels, the movement bringing more of his magnificent body into view. She eyed it with unabashed hunger. “I think they can. I don't know if they do. The woman who…who was my first lover…taught me how to please her. I am very happy that what works for women works for dryads as well, Eilonwy.”

She was suddenly consumed by a blazing fire of jealous fury. Another woman had dared to lie with her beloved? Had she taken his seed within her? Born his child?

She forced the anger away, another thought striking her. “Can…can men have this orgasm, as well?”

A lopsided smile pulled his mouth into an attractive curve. “Oh, yes. We can.”

“And how is it done?”

He made a cautious gesture towards his shaft, which was still rising proudly from its nest of pubic hair at his groin. “With your hands. Or your mouth.” She felt her eyes widen in surprise. That in her mouth? She fought back a giggle. Of course, a few moments ago, you would never have thought Finian would put his mouth where he did. And look how pleasantly that turned out.

“Or, if you allow it,” he continued, his face as red as his hair, “I could…we could…” he stuttered to a halt.

Suddenly realizing what he was trying to say, Eilonwy lay back in the grass, letting her legs sag apart lewdly. Her eyes were drawn to his groin like a flower following the sun across the sky. His male hardness bounced in time with his heartbeat. “Inside me?” she whispered. Despite everything, she felt a tiny stab of worry. How would he…gods, how would he fit?

“Yes.” Although quiet, his voice throbbed with need.

“Then come, my love,” she said, letting go of her fear and allowing her own desire fill her voice. She held out her hands to him. “Come to me.”

The nuns of St. Guinevere have done it. In this sequel to "The Nun's Seduction," the angel Belial has been summoned, brought to earth to satisfy their every lusty desire. But some of the sisters are getting cold feet. Do they have the strength to withstand his sexual power? Or will they take part in "The Nun's Corruption?"

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

This is right.

The entire day seemed to coalesce, suddenly, snapping into focus as instantly as if she had been suffering from vision problems and had been handed a set of glasses. She knew, in that moment, that she never wanted to be parted from Belial, or from Abigail or Consuela. Her heart expanded, breaking the shackles of her self-imposed solitude.

The angel beneath her nodded, as if he could read her mind. “Now?”

“God, yes!”

She tried to shift, to take his jutting manhood inside her body, but found her effort stymied as Belial’s hands closed around her narrow hips.

Her mouth hung open with disbelief as she found herself lifted effortlessly off the ground, hanging in midair. Her toes reached down, seeking the solidity of the earth, but found only the warm summer breeze. “What?”

“Spread your legs for me, lovely Merry.” Belial smiled up at her, and she felt herself smiling in response. “I haven’t done this in a very long time.”

She shook her head. “You’re insane.” But she did as he bid, spreading her legs wide, as if she were some sort of erotic gymnast.

Slowly, how slowly he lowered her, aiming her seething center at the head of his phallus. As it approached her, she bit her lip, knowing that this step, one taken, was irrevocable.

Belial seemed to sense her hesitation, for his eyes locked with hers. “It’s not too late. You can always say no. I’ll stop. I’ll always stop, if you ask.”

She shook her head. “No. I want this.” I wouldn’t stop now for anything.

“Brave Meredith.” Slowly, with infinite gentleness, he lowered her, his angelic phallus piercing her, filling her with holy rapture.

There is something mysterious about the Abbey of St Guinivere. Something...dark. When Sister Abigail is sent there to translate a mysterious scroll, she has no idea what she will unleash. But the longer she stays, the less she wants to leave. Because Sister Abigail Woodward is part of the Nun's Seduction!

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

“Belial,” she whispered, choosing a name at random from the scroll. The sound carried from her lips, waking faint echoes in the dark library. “Three maidens desire your presence. Three women hunger for your touch. Three who have lived without a man summon you, in the name of our Lord Himself.”

She stopped. In the silence which followed, her skin flushed hotly. She let go of Merry and Consuela’s hands, feeling enormously stupid.

“Well,” a strong male voice said from directly behind her, making her jump. “It’s about damned time.”

*****

Long, long after, when Abigail and her sisters had a chance to discuss the events of those first frantic days after Belial entered their lives, she was surprised to discover that Merry and Consuela had much different impressions of the angel who eventually became their lover.

For Abigail, he appeared as an athletic young man, perhaps a year or two older than himself. His eyes were an entrancing dark green, the color of oak leaves in the morning, and his hair was a rich, chocolate brown. He was well-muscled without being overly bulky, but the six-pack he had at his abdomen, visible through the unbuttoned shirt he wore with casual ease, made her mouth grow dry.

But for Consuela, he appeared in a completely different form. A dark-haired, dark-skinned man of her own nationality met her hungry gaze, his face infused with a roguish charm. He had a cleft chin, high cheekbones, and his cheeks were stubbled with the faintest hint of a beard. He was dressed in tight-fitting jeans, so snug she felt she could read the minted dates of the coins in his pockets, if he had any, and a black t-shirt covered by a black leather jacket. His hair was coal-black, swept back from his temples, and his eyes were faintly predatory.

And when Meredith told them of her first sight of Belial, she spoke of a man in the prime of life, much older than the man who appeared to Abbie and Consuela. Blond and of average height, he had laugh lines at the corners of his mouth and around his eyes, which crinkled appealingly when he smiled, which was often.

But whether he appeared as a Latino bad-boy, a comforting older man, or a green-eyed seducer, their reaction was the same. All three women thought Belial was the most incredibly good-looking man they had seen in their lives. Abigail swallowed through a desert-dry throat, her eyes wide as his sheer physical presence hit her like a hammer-blow. Inside her modest blouse, she began to sweat, her breasts feeling hot and flushed. Her heart pounded, the sound ringing like a drumbeat in her ears and at the junction of her thighs, and she felt the tidal surge of desire quicken her loins.

“God damn,” the women sighed, in ragged chorus.

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