Series: Seasons of Annah #1
Publication Date: June 10th, 2016
Publisher: River Lady Press
Publisher: River Lady Press
Genre: Contemporary Women's Fiction
Pages: 328
Synopsis (from Author):
“The true love I desire shall come
to me. I am the lock he is the key. As mine to him, his soul shall speak to me.
This I seek, so mote it be.”
When 55-year-old earth-witch,
Annah-Belle Henderson, cast a spell for love she never envisioned her wish
would be granted in the young nephew of her longtime friend. With a face that
rivals the Norse god Thor, and a body to match, the charismatic Eric Ashworth
draws Annah into a dizzying current of emotions. Should she accept the chance
for love with a man twenty years younger or reject her feelings?
As a past darkness threatens to
destroy her, Annah makes a decision that begins a journey fraught with
judgement, betrayal, and perhaps death.
The orange head of
the match ignited with a flash. Slender fingers held it under the dried
kindling. Within seconds, the splintered wood was ablaze, licking up the sides
of an oak log, triggering the release of rose-scented oil. Except for the glow
cast by the blaze, darkness shrouded the night. Brown eyes peered out from
beneath long black bangs. Dressed in white with a pale shawl wrapped around her
shoulders, Annah resembled a specter—one who had traveled from outside the
realm of the living to watch the dance of the flames. She held a single red
rose—an offering for Aphrodite, the Goddess of love.
When the fire
reached its fevered peak, she dropped the rose into the inferno and murmured,
“Aphrodite, accept my gift as I cast my wish on this Midsummer’s Eve.” The rose
stem coiled, and the petals withered under the heat of the hungry flames.
Annah slid her
hand into the pocket of her pants and removed a piece of green paper, two cones
of sandalwood incense, and five apple seeds. On the paper, in scarlet ink, were
written the words to a love spell. “The true love I desire shall come to me. I
am the lock he is the key. As mine to him, his soul shall speak to me. This I
seek, so mote it be.”
To reinforce the
spell two additional recitations were required. During the second reading, she
allowed the paper to float onto the engulfed log. The incense cones and seeds
followed as she recited the spell a final time. When Annah ended with ‘so mote
it be’ a breeze swept through the fire pit and the flames extended scorching
fingers toward the heavens. Her canine companion released a soft whimper.
“Shh,” she whispered. “It’s okay, Lexy.”
Annah stared into
the blaze. “Druids believe it’s possible to see the faces of loves and enemies
in an enchanted fire. I wonder.” At first she saw just the ravenous flames but
soon an image took shape. A smile emerged. Loving eyes peered back at her as
one of the incense cones exploded, sending hot sparks into the perfumed air.
The smile turned into a sneer as the wail of a lone coyote pierced the night,
bristling her fifty-pound Australian Shepherd’s composure. A series of
responding growls emanated from Lexy, but they did little to assuage the sense
of unease that passed through Annah. She backed away from the chimenea and sat
on the nearby stone bench. “Probably best to leave the fire reading to the Druids.”
Next to the bench
rested a small wicker basket. Its contents, in addition to the bottle of rose
oil, included a thermos, teacup, and her cell phone. Annah dropped the box of
matches into the basket and withdrew her phone. With a swipe of the screen, she
found the song she wanted to play. While the voice of Etta James accompanied
her Annah opened the thermos and poured amber-colored liquid, still steamy and
hot, into the cup. Before taking a sip, she raised it high, toasted the
Goddess, and then bid the ashes that ascended into the starlit sky success as
they delivered her wish. The current returned and spiraled within the fire. It
carried the scented heat toward her, enveloping her in its warm embrace.
It was past one when Annah switched off the
bedside lamp and lay in the darkened bedroom. Behind her bed, an open window
granted access to the night air. A quiet breeze breathed life into the
backyard’s wind chimes. Entering the room, it carried a subtle hint of
sandalwood on its gentle waves. Circling Annah, it stroked her cheeks, softly
caressing her lips. Entering that hazy place between dreams and reality, her
mind gave shape to her last thought of the day. This will be my summer, a
summer for true love.
Tinthia Clemant was born in
Medford, Massachusetts, over sixty years ago. In other words, she's old! As a
child, she lived happily in a loving home with her three siblings and mother
and father. She always wrote. From the time she first picked up a pencil, or
perhaps it was a crayon, she wrote. Love stories. Happy stories. Stories about
love with happy endings. Her first book was self-published. (At the tender age
of seven, she stapled the pages together and presented it to her mother on
Mother's Day.)
As contemporary women's fiction's
newest author, Tinthia fell in love with love stories and true love when she
first learned about true love's first kiss. That did it for her! Unfortunately,
she has yet to find that special kiss. Throwing her arms up in defeat, she
decided to write about it and live vicariously through her characters.
Tinthia lives on the banks of the
Concord River and spends her time teaching science at a local community
college, gardening, painting, feeding her multitude of Mallards (follow her
natural history blog at: concordriverlady.com), reading, and, of course,
writing contemporary women's fiction about romance, relationships, and true
love. She also enjoys Chunky Monkey and American Dream Cone and other enticing
flavors produced by Ben and Jerry.
