Book Spotlight – “Passion’s Sacred Dance” by Juli REvezzo

Book Spotlight – “Passion’s Sacred Dance” by Juli REvezzo







I’m happy to host fellow indie author Juli Revezzo today…


To learn more about Juli D. Revezzo, PASSION’S SACRED DANCE, the Celtic Stewards Chronicles series and all her other works, see her site, at

Amazon Author Page:

She’s also on Facebook:

Good Reads:



And Twitter: @julidrevezzo

For news on forthcoming releases sign up for her newsletter at:


She’s got a new book out, just this month, and I’ll let her tell you all about it:

PASSION’S SACRED DANCE came about from a number of things. The biggest influence on the story, however, was my love of Irish mythology. These are legends and stories written down in the 11th=15th centuries by Irish scribes, but the stories are much older than that, undoubtedly told by wandering bards, before a king’s fire for an avid audience. The stories tell of heroic deeds, of the wondrous gods and sorcerers. Of honor, and oaths made—and broken. One story particularly, that of the Second Battle of Mag Tuired, tells of a battle between the gods of the Tuatha dé Danann (the Peoples of the Goddess Dana), and their enemy Balor and the Fomorii. A battle that began when Balor dared to give audience to a Tuatha dé Danann bard, but did not pay him the respect he was owed. For a people that prized honor—and that of their bards—above all else, this was a grievous mistake. When the Tuatha dé Danann heard of this dishonor, they gathered up their armies and went to war with Balor.

So, there the story of harshad wars in my fantasy romance novel PASSION’S SACRED DANCE took root and I wondered, now, we know the Tuatha dé Danann won that battle. But what would happen if the losers didn’t want to honor that win? I mean, Balor and his followers are painted as a dishonorable lot. Is it far-fetched to believe they wouldn’t want a rematch? And there the reoccuring mythical wars that Stacy and her family, and her protector Aaron face, every five hundred years, in PASSION’S SACRED DANCE was born.


Would you like to read a little more of PASSION’S SACRED DANCE?


Unless Stacy Macken can stave off her creditors, she may lose her renowned history center. Yet she knows in her heart that the land is sacred and what a catastrophe losing it would be. How much of a catastrophe, she hasn’t a clue.

Until Aaron Fielding arrives with his tales of magical guardians and the Tuatha dé Danann, sworn warriors from Celtic legend who protect humanity from a wicked enemy seeking their destruction.

Is the end of the world imminent? What can she, a modern woman and her warrior lover, possibly have to offer when a long-prophesied druidic mythic battle explodes around them?

Bonus: Includes brand new flash fiction piece, “About A Warrior”

Want to read it right now?  It’s available at:


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Add Passion’s Sacred Dance to your Good Reads shelves here:


Stacy nodded then strode into the main gallery, past statues of a few founding fathers, paintings of historical incidents, and cabinets displaying the city charters and noteworthy proclamations. Slipping through a door at the far end of the room, she entered the courtyard.

Despite the chill air, Stacy spied a few tattooed men and women gathered around a small table, discussing a class while nursing cups of coffee. One woman sitting with them had silvery gray eyes that shone like beacons. Hard to miss.

Stacy stared at her a moment longer, trying to figure out the nature of the color. Putting the woman’s eye color down to a set of extremely cool contacts, she smiled and gave the woman a jaunty salute then reached out for the empty glasses lining the next abandoned table. The woman still watched her.

Uncomfortable, Stacy strode to the far side of the courtyard to escape the woman’s scrutiny. Something told her to look back.

The woman with the startling eyes stood right behind her, glaring. Her eyes glowed like quicksilver.


Miss Silver Eyes smelled of patchouli, musk, and some other strange scent Stacy couldn’t identify.

She leaned close to Stacy’s ear, and her voice sounded raspy when she spoke, “We will have this ground. This harshad time, Stacy Macken, the ground is ours, and they will never dance again.”

Harshad? How did she know about harshads? Had the long-awaited war truly come, then?

Stacy stared as impossibly long incisors slid down from the woman’s gums like snake fangs. Miss Silver Eyes clamped a hand around her upper arm. The woman’s steely gaze, the ruby and alligator’s tooth earring glittering in her right earlobe, and the dark threat mesmerized Stacy.

“You won’t if I have anything to say about it.” A cool male voice brought the silver-eyed woman up short and the fog lifted from Stacy’s mind.

Aaron Fielding stood before her dressed in casual jeans and a gray, cable knit sweater. He seemed right at home here among the students, and yet somehow he also stood apart.

The air shifted. Stacy could have sworn his leather coat, for just an instant, took on the shape of a golden eagle’s wings.

A high-pitched whine scraped from the silver-eyed woman’s throat. Taking Aaron in, she cocked her head. A bemused smile spread across her face, as if at some private joke.

Aaron retrieved an item from his coat. At first, Stacy thought the object might be a baton. A hint of blue light flickered between his fingers, barely there; almost hidden by the glare of the courtyard lights. Then the object changed shape and substance, wood to steel. The innocuous baton became a sword.

“Now, wait!” Stacy jumped to her feet and caught the baton before it bashed the woman’s face in.

Aaron grasped Stacy’s upraised hand and thrust her behind him. “For your own good, don’t interfere.”

Miss Silver Eyes screamed. Steel glinted from her fists as she rushed headlong at Aaron.

He raised the weapon while muttering something in a foreign language.

An explosion of light split the air. A blue starburst flashed at the edges of Stacy’s vision. Cringing and blinking in the brightness, she saw that the woman, hands outstretched, had gone utterly still.

Stacy frowned as she studied the woman, wondering what happened.

Aaron turned back to the silver-eyed woman, grasped her arm, and whispered in her ear. Her feet began to move, one step, then another, as a zombie might—unseeing and stiff in posture. Aaron kept a hand on her back, leading her to the entrance. He opened the gate and shoved her through, then slammed it shut with an Irish curse. He proceeded to mutter something, tracing a finger along the gate’s edge.

His words reminded Stacy of something out of Chaucer. Azure light danced around the gate’s perimeter.

Aaron turned to face her. “This should never have happened,” he said.  “Forgive me, Stacy.”

Surprised to see his medallion glowing with a soft reddish-golden light and his eyes an unearthly shade of green, Stacy gasped.

Aaron shook his head. “We were lax in our vigilance, and this intrusion never should’ve been allowed.”

His gaze came back to hers. The glow in his eyes was gone. Had she hallucinated?

“I give you my solemn vow that I’ll do everything in my power to see it doesn’t happen again.”

Shaking, she recalled the fables she’d heard all her life about women and fated love with mystery men. Was the tale just the stuff of silly bedtime stories? Was Aaron merely defending her from an attacker as any gentleman might? Or did his purpose spring from something other than chivalry?

Taking her hands, he tried to soothe her. “These grounds have been violated,” he said. His expression melted into a solemn frown. “And we’ve work to do to restore the safeguards. If you’ll come with me, we can get down to the business of ensuring that.”

Safeguards? Stacy couldn’t believe her ears. Work to restore the safeguards?

Oh, God. Oh, God! Why now? Would that her whole life could’ve passed without having to hear those words.

Yet, she knew what he said was true, and reached out to him. Stacy’s breath caught in her throat as he raised her hands to his biceps. His expression held a combination of intensity and passion. Her heart raced.

His voice, a mixture of seduction and gravel, rumbled through her. “Hold on tight. I don’t want to lose you along the way.”

The lights at the corners of the courtyard flared. Digging her nails into Aaron’s arms, Stacy squinted. They glided upward, and she looked down, disbelieving what she saw. They floated above the floor as if they’d become no more than a puff of smoke.

The puff thinned, stretched out in the light, blinding her as it blended along the spectrum. A thin whining sound screamed in her ear. She shot along its frequency, until she felt she was one with the universal energy pulsing through her, until all she saw turned to white darkness that seemed to go on forever.



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