This excerpt on ‘Only Romance’ made my day.
Description: June called down the moon to find her one true love. A motorcycle from hell dumped Eric on her doorstep.
An accountant for a failing company, June longs for true love. In a Wiccan summoning ceremony, she swallows the moon in an effort to find her soul mate. What she gets is Ohio National Guardsman Eric Macmillan, who owns a cursed Suzuki Hayabusa and two spirits: DEA agent Jake the Snake, and the malevolent stripper Cora Cobra.
Back from Afghanistan, divorced and un-employed, Eric is the third owner of a Suzuki Hayabusa. The other owners are dead, just not departed. He’s looking for the artist who created ‘Cora’s’ snake-inspired paint job. When Eric arrives at the scene of Jake’s last sting, on a one-of-a-kind motorcycle, all hell breaks loose – someone tries to kill him.
Van Man Go is the world’s greatest airbrush artist. He will repaint Eric’s Hayabusa, for the usual price. Like Cora Cobra and Jake the Snake, Eric must put his soul up for collateral. Cora and Jake failed to pay their debts, now the devil wants his due.
Somebody’s going to pay, and pay very soon. Who will it be?
Care to take a ride on the Hayabusa from Hell?
September 17, 2005 – Ashtabula, Ohio
The moon was a glowing opal disk, full and round, the stars were diamonds generously scattered on the black velvet sky. June drank in the sweet autumn air as she stepped out of her house. She glanced around, adjusting her long shawl, checking that the neighbors weren’t about as she picked up her basket. The boys next door had a bad habit of roaming the woods at night. June didn’t dare go ‘skyclad’ as her spell book said she should. Instead, she performed her rituals in the hand-crocheted, knee-length wrap dress she wore under the enveloping shawl.
It was her love of the land and the slow turning of the seasons that had drawn her to pagan religion. Wicca never made her feel guilty for wanting normal things like money, sex, or a better job. The Earth Goddess understood about urges, the drive to mate, nest and to raise a family. Everything had a season.
June worried that she was missing out.
At twenty-eight years old, June could feel her biological clock ticking; feel herself getting older, lonelier, with each passing year. She knew she was pretty, with long wavy brown hair, blue eyes and a slim figure. She needed to find, not just a man but the right man. June wanted to find her soul mate; he was out there, somewhere. It was time she found him, settled down and started to raise a family.
Tonight she would cast a summoning spell to find the male half of her soul.
I will find him, she told herself. There was no room for doubt, or the spell wouldn’t work. Still, her inner critic churned out questions. What if he was on the other side of the world? What if he had been killed, or maimed in the war overseas? What if he had already married someone else? The ‘what if’ questions became more far-fetched the closer she got to the spring. June did her best to block them out. She didn’t need doubts; she needed to concentrate.
The night was cool, the grass prickly under her bare feet. She should call rain but her inner self was drier than the grass.
Her ritual items were tucked in the basket: the glass pitcher, the fine blown brandy snifter, the knife, the shell, her incense, crystals and matches. Young trees whispered in the breeze, sheltering the spring where she performed her rituals. The area had a small stone altar with a white marble slab for the top. The spring itself was round, lined with slate and granite; the water was crystal clear, sweet and cold.
Her inner critic was in full cry, like a hound on the scent as she set up her ritual items. Even though she was alone, her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment. Casting this spell was the act of a desperate woman. She was pathetic, a loser. That voice whispered with considerable malice: ‘What if your soul mate is a woman? What’cha gonna do then?’
“Ha! Not likely,” June said out loud. He was out there. She was going to find him.
On with the ritual.