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-Ralph Waldo Emerson

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~ Maggie Shayne 


   Half Moon Magick  

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Half Moon Magick
Ellora's Cave
ISBN: 9781419923388
Genre: Erotic / Fantasy
Format: e-book

Is he the man of her dreams or a nightmare of the worst kind...a dark mage.


The mage Black Isolde has long had visions of a gorgeous, sexy man. When he appears in the flesh, she can't be certain whether he's the man of her dreams or a nightmare of the worst kind: a Dark Mage.

Harmon has devoted his life to the destruction of Dark Mages. His work has required him to walk a knife-edge between darkness and light. Isolde's purity balances the shadows he's acquired, but he may have spent too long in the darkness to ever be free of its taint.



"Intense and dark, [Half Moon Magick] keeps readers riveted and holds them until the end. There is a lot packed into this short story....A very good plot, and plenty of action make this story a favorite of this reviewer."
~ Love Romances

"Ms. Midnight has created a wonderful world....This story has a powerful climax in more than one way."
~ Just Erotic Romance Reviews



Black Isolde carefully poured a small amount of oil over the water in her wide bowl of hammered copper . The scents of lavender and mint rose as the water warmed the oils. She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment, letting the fragrances relax her body and clear her mind. She opened her eyes and stared into the bowl, her gaze unfocused.

The surface of the oil smoothed, the shimmer of the pouring subsiding. The image of the cottage ceiling appeared briefly. In its place came swirls of color, blues and greens, random shapes that gradually resolved into recognizable figures. Tree boughs heavy with summer leaves grew to fill the vision, her perspective falling lower until only the huge trunks loomed around her.

The forest she saw was unknown to her, a quiet place of deep shadows. ‘Twas too quiet. Unsettled, she searched the vision for other signs of life, birds in flight or squirrels at play. Nothing moved in the dappled light.

Mist began to rise from the ground, wreathing the trees in first gray and then white as it gathered and thickened. Through the gauzy streamers came a man.

Oh, dear Goddess, what a man!

She’d seen him before, in dreams of prophecy and visions of her future. Now he strode boldly toward her, parting the mist. Behind and around him crowded the denizens of the forest. Flocks of birds and families of animals—deer and wolves, bears and rabbits—soared and romped as the fog dispersed.

Above him, sparrows flew around a hawk, unconcerned, indeed teasing the raptor with close dives. The sly tap of a wingtip sent them tumbling downward in a feathery cascade. Isolde could almost hear their excited chatter as they recovered and climbed to begin their game anew.

Like the creatures he led, the man wore nothing more than the Goddess had blessed him with.

Had She ever blessed him!


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