I have always loved the epic poem The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes, originally published in 1906. This wonderful, melodic poem is the inspiration for Gypsy Ribbons. If you read the poem, you will see the similarities, the characters for one. Loreena McKennett and many others have recorded The Highwayman.
I wrote The Night Before Doomsday about the Grigori and the fallen angel Azazel, in particular, after I read The Book of Enoch of the Apocrypha. Enoch tells the story of the angels who were sent to Earth to teach Man and fell in love with human women. The one reference in the Bible is in Genesis. My son gave me the title, as well as creating the cover for the book.
In Star Angel, the hero is from another dimension. I wrote this short piece during the days before my divorce. Upon reading it, you will find the answer to that clue. It is Lucy’s story and my story in a way. The names and circumstances have been changed to protect the guilty and the innocent.
The Gatekeeper’s Cottage was originally intended to be an erotic romance to be submitted under my pen name Bianca Swan. One day, I decided that I wanted it to be one of my own works and rewrote it, toning down the spicier parts, but there is still plenty of spice in the story. If you are interested in erotic romance, look Bianca up at The Wild Rose Press (2 novellas), and Amazon (one full length novel, On Wings of Desire).
For that matter, look me up on Amazon! I have 8 books from which to choose.
Four by Moonlight
An anthology of love in the moonlight…in the paranormal realms
Gypsy Ribbons – A moonlight ride on the moors and meeting a notorious highwayman will forever change Lady Virginia Darby’s life.
Star Angel – Lucy was stuck in a rut and in an Idaho potato patch. She’d seen him in the corner of her eye—a fleeting glimpse of beauty—now he stood before her in the flesh.
The Night Before Doomsday – All his brothers had succumbed to lust, but Azazel resisted temptation until the wrong woman came along.
The Gate Keeper’s Cottage – Newlywed Meggie Richelieu’s mysterious, phantom lover may be more than anyone, except the plantation housekeeper, suspects.
After our arrival in Eden, I often prayed for my harp. One day, it appeared in a blaze of light.Buy Links:
A knock at the door froze my hands upon the strings. Had someone heard the music I was forbidden to play? Annoyed at the interruption, I set the harp on its feet. As I glided across the room, I sensed the identity of my caller and relaxed. What could Magdalene want?
Another timid knock sounded. The door creaked open. A slither of sunshine crept across the floor to my feet.
Magdalene called through the crack, “Azazel, I took a chance you were home. May I come in?”
“Hello, Magdalene. Please. Come. I was playing the harp. Would you like to listen?”
“Oh yes.” She clasped her hands to her breast, the gesture innocent yet seductive.
I waved her ahead of me, following her into the late afternoon sunlight glinting on the golden instrument. She sank down at my feet and placed a hand on my knee. As the melody unfurled from the strings, I sang. This time, I did not play the music of heaven.
With the last notes quivering in the air, Magdalene repeated the lyrics. “Stoop angels hither from the skies, there is no holier spot of ground, than where love with beauty lies.” She was trembling. “I expected a hymn.”
“It was a hymn. To Beauty.”
“It sounded like a love song.”
“Perhaps, it is a love song.”
Hope shone in her mesmerizing blue eyes. “To me?”
“To you and every Eve.”
She rose to her knees, brushing back my hair and kissing my ear, her small hand fondling me. My shaft hardened in her caress. My breath caught, my heart hammering.
“Magdalene, don’t.” I caught her fingers.
“Why not?” She breathed warmth on my neck. “I love you.”
I forced images of coupling from my mind. “You’ve mistaken gratitude for love.” I set aside my harp, lifting her to her feet. “Here, I’ll take you flying.”
“I don’t want to fly. Not just yet.” Delicate fingers caressed the sensitive underside of my wing.
Every fiber of my being vibrated to a melody old as the Universe, new as the First Day. She locked her arms around my neck and applied her body to the length of mine.
Face lifted, lips parted, she breathed, “Don’t you want to kiss me?”
The heat in her gaze boiled the blood racing through my veins. My hands shook with the effort to resist. The scent of her perfume, the pure essence of Woman, and the desire that had been smoldering for days overcame me. Helpless, I bent to do what she’d accused me of wanting…something I needed more than the next breath. She stood on tiptoe, opened her mouth, a shy tongue teasing my lips to part. Not like Ruth's kiss. Subtle, innocent yet...knowing.
I groaned in the exquisite pain of desire. My mouth opened, taking her tongue inside, dominating the kiss. Desire was death, a living rigor mortis. As my feverish hands explored her body, she moaned and whispered. Thought sizzled to fog. Spellbound, I kissed her lips, her eyes, her cheeks. When I pressed my mouth to her velvet throat, she shivered in my embrace, and I was lost.
The walls of my house closed in on me. Folding Magdalene in a wing, I lifted her and took her into the garden. Here darkness and my wings would hide our sin.
Amazon eBook: https://www.amazon.com/Four-Moonlight-Linda-Nightingale-ebook/dp/B01M3Q9J8B/ref=sr_1_8?ie=UTF8&qid=1476737966&sr=8-8&keywords=four+by+moonlight
Print Only Available on the Publisher’s Website: http://www.classactbooks.com/index.php/cat-romance/cat-romance-paranormal/four-by-moonlight-detail (Other forms are available here)
Once upon a magical time, Linda Nightingale raised Andalusians, breeding, training, and showing this fairytale horse. She has two wonderful sons, a snazzy black Miata, and a parlour grand, all residing in the big state of Texas. She loves to dress up and host formal dinner parties and doesn’t even mind handwashing the china and glass afterwards.