Egyptian Moon Series, Book 1
Max W. Miller
Genre: New Adult Paranormal Romance
Publisher: Ironshield Marking LLC
Number of pages: 218 pages
Word Count: 67,000 words
Cover Artist: Kat Murphy
About the Book:
A young lady has to learn how to function on a college campus without the guidance of her parents while dealing with reincarnation. How will she fight and win the battle against the aggressive soul of an ancient Egyptian princess who is determined to RETURN.
Amazon Purchase Link:
Do You Believe In Reincarnation - Egyptian Moon – Book 1 – Return
In her freshman year, Megan Smart has a terrifying chain of events to deal with. As if leaving home for college isn’t stressful enough, Megan faced with having to resist reincarnation!
The perfect boyfriend with a bright athletic future …
The haunting by a demi-god figure from a past life …
A mysterious teal eyed stranger stalking with his own purpose in mind!
In New York City, after Megan touched an artifact at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, she experienced a vision of an Egyptian couple embraced in an intimate moment. When she left home to attend the same college as her star quarterback boyfriend, Tyler, she experiences a serious change in her personality so drastic that she jeopardizes her and Tyler’s relationship.
At the point of mental exhaustion, Megan goes home to meet with an empathic doctor, who had been training her mother in astrology. Instantly, Dr. Epstein taps into the root of Megan’s personality changes. Megan had connected with a past life—one who intends to take-over hers.
Ancient Egypt ca. 1370 BC – ca. 1330 BC
She found pleasure in him when she could. With burning candles and scented oils, she prepared her chamber then bathed in the perfumed waters of his choosing. Wrapping her flesh in the fine silken linens of the gods, she stood waiting, closing her eyes to focus on an image of him. He always came to her by night, the handsome nobleman from a foreign land. She smiled to herself, knowing that when she gave herself to him, he would not leave until her desires overflowed.
In the middle of her thoughts, he quietly appeared, splitting the heavy-paneled tapestry curtains. He gazed upon her, and then he smiled. With her black shining locks neatly in place and her eyes shaded heavily with green, she returned his look of pleasure. Dressed in his finest attire, he hurried across the stone floor. The ornate rugs shielded the sounds of his sturdy steps.
They embraced. She delighted in how his hands caressed her body, moving downward from her shoulders, touching places that exploded into desire. She tilted her head back, laughing quietly. Mindful that their secret time together would not last until morning, she continued to savor his smell and touch while she let him lay her down. Excitement moved into intensity as she welcomed him inside. Looking up, she studied his face locked in an expression of fervor. Her hands smoothed the waves in his beard and then pulled him to her lips.
When their time came to an end, sadness consumed them. Both knew that bedding each other again and again was their only reward. A daughter of a pharaoh would never wed a nobleman from a foreign land.
The pharaoh, who was her loving father, may come to take her as his own; it was his right, or the right of her doting brother, maybe even a cousin. She knew she had to always watch for signs that maybe one day she could sit upon the throne or become regent to the male who was next in line.
Prayer from the Heart of an Egyptian Princess
I pray to the one God from whom all other gods came into being, the God who has no name and no graven images of marble—the God known by the elite, the priests and the educated.
Come, Holy Priests, embalm my flesh, prepare me for my journey. I pray you mix the exact portions of myrrh and natron. I pray that the gods will deliver me safely to the other side.
When it is his time, I pray that my foreign lover comes safely to the second kingdom. And when my soul finds an acceptable vessel, I pray I will emerge as a new kind of pharaoh, changing the laws and customs of the land and letting love decide the fate of my people.
Then, once again, I will spend heated nights between fine-scented linens, entwined with him. Then, once again, he will only be satisfied by the taste of my breasts, and our bed of fire will ascend to the gods. With my foreign lover, I will walk in another time.
Two weeks after the trip to New York, I busied myself preparing to leave for Morgan Nielsen U. I tried not to dwell on what had happened in the museum basement or on my hotel bedroom ceiling. I wanted to believe that my imagination had gone rogue, taken over and headed in another direction. If I remembered a single word from the tablet, I quickly changed my thoughts to something else. My internal explanation for the Egyptian visions was that they came from eating too many slices of New York pizza.
I tried in every way I could think of to convince myself it was all BS. But the occasional sting in the tip of the finger I’d used to touch the clay reminded me of the truth. The nightmare in New York really happened and it came back with me to Cary, North Carolina. The growing fear inside told me it might get worse; maybe this nightmare’s intent ran deeper than just tormenting me, I felt like it wanted to catch me and then bite my head off.
No matter where I traveled in the future, my new mantra was: if the head man at a famous museum tells you not to touch old stuff, then don’t do it!
I had noticed a difference in me. Not only did I notice a difference, Mom noticed it too. She commented on how I must be trying to mature before starting college.
“Your way of moving while you walk is different, Meg. You’re not tucking your chin in like you’ve done all your life. And—” She paused, tapping her index finger over her upper lip. “You’ve developed a more graceful, lighter step, like you’re practicing how to float.”
I frowned at her comments. Actually, I was furious about them. The Egyptian on the ceiling had stood gracefully, looking like she knew how to float. Hopefully going off to college and busying myself with college stuff would fix all the graceful changes. Humping back and forth on campus should knock the lifted chin right out of me.
My last dinner with Mom and Dad came and went. I was at last leaving in the morning to begin life as a real adult, away from the forever watchful eyes of ‘The Parents’. As we ate, my mind waffled off and on the New York trip—off and on of the Amarna tablet, the words I’d read, and the two visions. After dinner, Mom gave me a reprieve on washing dishes. She knew I still had packing to do, but in my room, a gloomy mood took hold.
I closed my eyes, reliving the instant I touched the Amarna tablet. Nobody saw me touch the clay or understood why I’d fell out on the floor. I could not bring myself to discuss it with anyone, not even Tyler. Since our return, Tyler’s main interest in talking about New York involved what happened in his bedroom on the last night.
With football practice resumed, Tyler’s brief summer visit with his family had ended and he’d already gone back to MNU. Tonight, I especially looked forward to the phone call he usually made after football practice, showering in the gym, and getting back to his dorm. I never missed a chance to have a conversation with him about something important or perhaps not anything that mattered.
My cell phone rang with Tyler’s special tune. I slid my finger across the screen.
“What’s up, babe?” Tyler asked.
His heavy, sexy voice brought me out of my negative thoughts. Closing my eyes, I got an image of him shirtless. I visualized seeing the rose tattoo with his mother’s name scrolled over his heart, and my name, Meg, lying vertically down the cross he’d tattooed over his left shoulder blade. He said that I always had his back and whenever I needed him he was my shoulder to cry on. It was so sweet, I wanted to tear up, even a year after he’d had the tattoo done.
“Meg, you there?” Tyler intruded on my thinking about his fine naked body. He rambled on about a play he’d executed perfectly during practice. But I kept my eyes closed to see more of him. In my imagination, his brown skin gave off a golden glow. Tyler had built his arms up to nothing but lean muscles, his right throwing arm was buried underneath a sleeve of designer tattoos, and that six pack he’d worked so hard to make ripped drove me crazy when I looked at it.
Oh yeah, Tyler was my man, from his black waved short hair to every other smoking part of him. I squeezed my eyes to remember every inch, and what he meant to me, what we meant to each other. In an instant, Tyler’s hot body vanished from underneath my closed lids, replaced by the backside of the naked Egyptian man who had performed on my bedroom ceiling.
“Where’d you go?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”
“I want to know about everything that concerns you; you should know that.”
“I do.” I hesitated, trying to find the right answer. “My mind went off on a trip somewhere; I guess it’s fear of the unknown about leaving tomorrow.” I stretched out on my bed and crossed my legs. “I feel so jittery.”
“Your arm’s not feeling funny again, is it?”
“No, I don’t feel anything medically wrong. It’s just that my mind keeps wandering.”
“Well, let your mind wander back to me, because I can’t stop thinking about the side of you that came out in New York. Hey, girl. When can we get back together like at the hotel?”
Embarrassed and feeling my reserved side bubble to the surface, I tried to explain my actions away. “I don’t know what came over me in New York. Maybe I was overwhelmed by the basement trauma we suffered,” I tried to tease.
“Overwhelm me anytime. Didn’t know you could ride a stallion like that.”
“Stop it.” My voice cracked. “Please.” I was almost in tears. Tyler had no idea what those mummies had done to me before I came to him that night.
“Okay, babe, don’t get upset. I’m trying to give you some props for a job well done, that’s all. Usually, we’re in the dark, and you won’t even let me see that perfect body of yours. I’m just saying: you were in to it and you knew you were beautiful. Remember saying, ‘the beautiful one has come’?”
“I know, Tyler. I know what I said. Can we just change the subject, please? Have you got your class schedule yet? You said that Coach Killar had you so tied up, you hadn’t checked to see if you got into all the classes you’d signed up for.”
“Yeah, I remember, and I still don’t know yet. You’re still coming in tomorrow, right?”
“That’s the plan.”
“That’s the plan? That’s all you got to say, Ms. College Freshman?”
I could hear the heaviness in my own voice and understood the irritation in his. “I don’t know, Tyler. I guess I’m just feeling that fear of the unknown.”
“Yeah, I think you are and maybe for no reason. Your dad hooked you up at MNU. You’ll be staying in one of those brand new campus quads, and you know they were allocated for upper classmen only.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“The bedrooms in those suckers look like efficiency apartments all by themselves.”
“I get it, Tyler.” Knowing Tyler, I knew where all the bedroom talk was headed and I liked it.
“I can be up in your room any time you want it to happen—no more Mommy and Daddy.”
I smiled and squeezed my legs tight. Tyler was all I needed to clear my head. “Sounds like a plan for us, if we can keep Tangie out of my room.”
“Hey, you’re the one who begged your dad to get my crazy cousin in the same quad with you. So don’t blame me when her crazy ass runs you crazy too.”
“Hey, don’t talk about my girl like that.”
“Naw, you guys are gonna be good together, protecting each other when I’m not around. It’s going to be intimidating when you first get here. You’ll be glad to have each other.”
“I’m sure it will.” I thought to myself how unintimidating going off to college seemed compared to the basement experience. “Don’t worry, Tyler. We’ll look after each other.”
“Hey, wanna come with me tomorrow after my morning practice? We can check on our classes together? You guys should be up from Cary early enough, and tomorrow’s the last day for students to make sure they got all the classes they signed up for, otherwise, it’s gonna be hell to pay changing your schedule on the first day.”
“Yeah, that sounds like a date. It should work since it’s only a couple hours from Cary to Winston-Salem.”
“Cool, because I need to walk in with you hanging all over me so all the girls at MNU will understand why they haven’t been able to get next to me, why this athlete’s off the market.”
“Oh, I know they’ve been trying to get next to you. You better be off the market or you’ll get your ass kicked down the same field you throw that football.”
“Oooh, getting so violent these days.”
“You better believe it.” Kidding around with Tyler helped to lift my gloomy mood. He’d always had that effect on me from the day I met him when he was thirteen and I was twelve.
For some reason Tyler stopped talking. I waited for him to say something else because my mood stiffened again “Hey, you there?”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Now you’re dragging.”
“It’s just that tomorrow you officially become an adult. I left my mom a year ago and now it’s time for you to leave yours.”
“Yeah,” I answered cautiously, not sure which road he’d gone down.
“My mama’s been my life saver, stuck with me even when I was headed for the juvenile justice system as fast as I could go.”
About the Author:
Max W. Miller was born in Savannah, Georgia, but has lived in North Carolina with her husband and two children for many years. She comes from a large family with eight siblings who have also experienced supernatural encounters.
Max enjoys writing science fiction, fantasy, and all things paranormal because she believes that we have three distinct parts to our being—body, mind and spirit (soul), and that other life forms in other realms are just as real as we are. In her writing, Max uses popular fantasy, science fiction and paranormal topics such as aliens, ghosts, and witches, and expresses them in a way that is highly entertaining and thought provoking.
Website and Blog http://www.scififantasyfiction.com
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