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ARC Readers Wanted for Dark Fantasy Romance Book Series

Dantalion Of The Goetia: Legacy

Angels, demons and Forbidden Love interlace in this Dark Fantasy of Dantalion, a condemned demon summoned from an ancient 17th century book of magick ‘The Goetia’, creating an unexplainable relationship of love, obsession and redemption.

ARC Paperbacks will be sent to eligible readers of Fantasy Romance (U.S.) or PDF for outside (U.S.) Asking for Reviews on Goodreads, Amazon and BookTok. Thank you for supporting Indie Authors! Please check out the book trailers and my other titles here on my site http://www.tinyindiewhimsy.com

Book Giveaways, books, What's New....

Halloween Haunt Giveaways Tinyindiewhimsy

All of October is Halloween Haunt Paperback Giveaway Month! Open to 18+ (U.S. Residents Only), Three (3) Winners Chosen at Random for a Chance to Win a FREE PAPERBACK OF YOUR CHOICE! Subscribe to my site, share my post and be sure to leave your email and Choice of Paperback (Dantalion Of The Goetia: Legacy (Fantasy Fiction), Tiny House Tale (Documentary/Memoir), or The Silent Sereande (Poetry/Photography) in the Comment Section! http://www.tinyindiewhimsy.com

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Tuesday Tell All…Tinyindiewhimsy

http://www.tinyindiewhimsy.com

Tuesday Tell All… Tell something you would never know about yourself to another…

My tell all is I am a Holy Witch…(I am part Catholic part Wiccan)….

Holy Witch

I inhaled the moon’s gaze upon me, as I touched upon the jagged stone. I felt my soul emerge through time, here to the place I felt so drawn. It had taken me from the sea to a canopy of green. I saw my likeness once etched into the stone. I knew nothing then, yet it was my reflection staring back at me, purged of sin only to be thrust into the depths of Hell.

I’ve come for him above the hill and beyond the mountain, where our destinies crossed, lost alone, yet I am here. My soul is ancient, so I must heal from within. My heart is pure so I must bleed alone. When I came through the veil I had left everything I once knew behind. I was the saint, the sinner, the Holy Witch. Left to the task of making sense of this past life and my place in it.

I held the fragile thread of life barely in my grasp. The tears of heaven grew higher it seemed, and I tasted of sin, and witchcraft and sorcery, and of damnation. Breathing became a task I forced myself to master.

I found myself back at the tree in the glen, the memories rushing through my essence. I wavered, hoping I would recover from the madness. But it did not go. I touched upon the pages of the book and began writing in words ancient and strange, unheard of in my time yet so familiar, they filled the parchment with my story.