RELEASE DATE: 01 December 2022
As a Goddess, interruptions go with the job description. Hence setting clear expectations early on that this Goddess would not manifest for every stubbed toe or missing ox.
But this petitioner? Very insistent. Irritatingly so.
The Goddess abandons her hot bath to answer… and what she finds not only shocks her, but sets in motion a series of events that change her life forever. A satisfying, sultry, slow-burn from the author of the All I Want For Christmas romances, for readers who like their heroes clever, cheeky and seductive.
A Prayer to a Goddess
“Oh, Goddess! Oh, Goddess!”
The cry echoed through my house too loud to ignore.
I tried. I sunk myself in my giant copper bathtub and tried to ignore the voice begging for my attention. But it was hard.
Prayers from the faithful rarely broke the barriers between the mortal and celestial realm. When I was near people I could hear their thoughts, know their wants and needs, with almost no effort at all. Even a faithless atheist was an open book to me if I touched them. But, safely cocooned in a world of magic, the only thoughts and prayers I heard were those backed by passionate faith.
Strong emotions like fear and hope made prayers clear even here.
“Oh, Goddess, I need you!” A man’s voice, strong and clear and begging.
Rolling my eyes, I climbed out of the bath, dried off, and wrapped a diaphanous garnet robe around me. My followers were not particularly devout as a rule and had no expectation of me manifesting looking a certain way. I was a goddess of a city—a small village when I was young—and my godhood was tied to the city, not to a set of religious dictates, although I’d laid down a few ground rules early on. I was not manifesting for every stubbed toe, hurt feelings, or missing ox.
I stepped forward, out of the celestial realm and into the penitent’s hour of great need…
…amid the smell of cheap incense, second-hand wine, and the dark, smoke-choked rooms of a place with bad music and yelling downstairs and procreation next door.
And a very, very naked man who was standing fully erect in every sense of the word, arms outstretched toward me.
“Oh, dear Me!” I spun around trying to get that image out of my head.
There was a buxom woman on the bed, long tan legs and chestnut hair piled into ringlets, clutching at badly dyed red sheets and staring wide-eyed at me.
“Did you pray for me?” I asked the girl. That almost made sense. “Is he attacking you?”
She shook her head in a tiny, fearful ‘No’.
Regretting godhood, I turned to the amorous young man. He had dark brown, curly hair that was common in my city and the healthy look of someone who worked out under the sun for a living. “Did you pray for me?”
“Um…” He pressed his lips together guiltily and glanced at the woman in the bed.
“Did you passionately blaspheme my name while hoping to have sex with her?”
He had. This idiot had really called out to his goddess in the throes of passion.
I covered my eyes. “This is why I let you have plagues,” I muttered. “Cuts down on idiots.”