"Incorporating myths and legends in a Celtic setting with a decidedly sexy spin, Whiskey Creek Press Torrid's Celtic Love Knots Volume 6 is sure to delight all who love their fantasy with a hefty dose of eroticism!"
~ Kwips and Kritiques, 5 Clovers
"In this delightfully sexy anthology, Ann Cory and Brenda Williamson take you on a trip through the mists of myth and legend with pair of creative stories that tease and delight. Two delightful stories from two great authors, and you can't lose."
~ Romance at Heart
"Heat is definitely on, in both stories. Characters are well-sketched...it is a good read.
~ Enchanting Reviews
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Ryanne fell away from the festivities of Beltane to inspect the lush grove. Wildflowers, sprinkled along fields of green, seemed to taunt her from afar. Even the haunting Celtic harp music and mouthwatering aromas of sweet butter rolls, succulent chicken, rosemary and thyme couldn't keep her attention. Her appetite was for nourishment other than food.
Quinn would expect her to dance the Maypole in the evening beneath the pale dust of the moon. Unfortunately, she wouldn't be there. His disappointment would be great, but she could see no other way to spare his feelings, and hoped his pain would lessen over time. While charming and good husband material, Quinn lacked the intrigue Ryanne looked for in a man. Strong in stature and intelligence, he exuded a seriousness that didn't appeal to her freethinking nature. And then there was the conservative sex.
Her body lay dormant, forever trapped in a bitter winter, while spring bloomed all around. A forbidden lust lay out of reach. She yearned for skilled hands to caress her body and ramble along hidden passages awaiting discovery. Quinn's passive demeanor was better reserved for demure ladies with a penchant for the mundane. He would never consider weaving her wrists together with blades of grass, or thrashing her bare bottom with broomcorn. A hunger far more decadent festered between her legs.
The music grew faint as Ryanne quietly stole away, glancing back once to watch the ladies in pretty crowns made of flower garlands. Ribbons in scarlet, green, and gold cascaded down the length of their hair. Their long dresses swirled as they skipped about with childlike smiles frozen on their anxious faces. The evening would decide their fate, and they welcomed it with open arms. Unlike them, Ryanne's interests ran beyond marriage, babies, and a simple life. A bigger world waited, filled with excitement and new experiences. Her spirit craved adventure, and her body desired passion. She didn't see those dreams coming to fruition with any of the men in town. While Quinn turned heads with his dusky locks and peacock-blue eyes, Ryanne knew she'd never be truly satisfied. She would only hurt him later.
The sound of the festival was far behind her as she approached the field. Lilies and thistles brushed against her legs as she hiked her dress up to her knees. Whispery touches of grass tickled her ankles as she walked, making her laugh like a young girl rather than the woman she was. While her people spouted the life of tradition, she set her sights on the unobtainable. She'd always been the one in trouble at school for her daydreaming ways. Teachers wanted her to be a young lady, reserved and quiet. She fought the conventional ways, knowing full well it wasn't her nature to live her life for a man as he saw her, but to be the woman she was inside.
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