Keta's Keep

The Fair Folk, Hag O' The Mist and Werewolves -The Sin Eater's Prince

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Thu, 23 May 2013 22:39:00 +0000

"Electric! Full of ancient folk lore as well as werewolves and even dragons!"

Five Stars

Yes, there are frightful creatures in The Sin Eater's Prince. That's one of the reasons I had so much fun researching the setting - WALES. My vampires don't sparkle and seldom are of good character. In fact, they're vicious.

Other nasty beasts you'll find between the pages:
The Hag of the Mist, a horrific-looking woman who screeches out a high-pitched warning when death is near.
Werewolves: Not shape-shifters, but down and dirty wolves who'd love nothing better than to rip someone's throat off. Don't desecrate their graves or they'll hunt you down until Hell consumes you.
The Fair Folk: They can be and good and bad, but all are up to their eyeballs in mischief, tricks and magic.
Tommy Knockers - Grotesque little people who spend eternity in the mines. Some say if you get to close to their habitat, you can hear them banging against the walls of caverns and caves.

Here's a scene from The Sin Eater's Prince. The vampires have arrived in the village of Abergwan and it's going to get ugly:

Mimicking their mother's outcries of panic, children wailed, and men looked over their shoulders searching for the bloodthirsty enemy. Owen tore his gaze from Andras and looked down at Carys, touched by the tears sliding down her cheeks.

In the breath of a heartbeat the air grew thick with the shriek of banshees. What sounded like a thunderous flapping of wings overhead pierced the panicked voices of the crowd. Demonic guardians dipped, soared and hovered above them, their spines arched against a cloud-filled sky. Led by Dagan, the vampires descended, their arms open in graceful flight.
Cloaked in a pale mist of vapors, the vampire’s crimson eyes blazed fire and their lethal white fangs dripped spittle. An odious stench drifted toward the gallows—a pungent mixture of ashes, the earth and death.

Owen assessed the scene. Please, not Carys, don't take her.

Dagan stood in the center of the paralyzed onlookers, his cape shimmering in a vibrant shade of blood red. Stunned into silence, villagers stared with their mouths agape, their eyes masked in terror.

Things happened so quickly, Owen couldn't remember their order. Dagan sliced through the throat of an innocent bystander with one swift slash of his hand. His companions rushed through the crowd, their dark clothing a wild haze of speed. So many were cut down while frozen in time; their legs anchored to the ground, the whites of their eyes the only part visible. Screams shook the stars, blood arced and streamed, and body parts soared through the air, heads, arms and legs. With vomit rising in his throat, Owen scanned the crowd for Carys and finally saw her brightly-colored shawl.

He jumped from the platform and shouted through the bedlam. "Run, Carys, run!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andras draw the sword and advance on a white-haired ghoul of ethereal beauty. Moving with speed and agility and striking faster than a viper, Andras cleaved an arm from the man's body. The demon reeled back with an anguished scream and pulled a claymore from the scabbard at his shoulder with his able hand.

The Prince's sword came up high, whirred through the air and keened its death knell. Sinking into the vampire's shoulder, the blade wobbled for a timeless moment before Andras pulled it free. The insufferable one fell back, but quickly parried with a deadly thrust toward Andras's heart. His dark eyes cold and lethal, Andras deflected the charge effortlessly.

On and on it went, the long tooth striking, Andras parrying. Metal clanked and echoed across the bloody battlefield. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed in perfect sync with the warring steel. Time and again the blades met and clashed and Owen couldn't tear his eyes from the gruesome battle.

Until Owen heard Carys scream.

He looked in the direction of her voice and his knees knocked. Circling her, Dagan frothed at the mouth, his hands moving in slow motion to encase her throat. Run, Owen, ye dolt, get to her before he kills her.

Without conscious thought, Owen lunged through the air and executed a perfect landing on the vampire's back. He pummeled his fists into the hard muscle to no avail. Dagan flung him to the ground as if he weighed no more than a feather and resumed his advance on Carys.
Owen scrambled to his feet and stepped between them, his arms out at his sides, his voice cold. "Ye will have to kill me first to get to her."

"Sweet Mother of Jesus," Carys rasped behind him. "The hounds of Hell have arrived."

Crimson eyes flared. "I admit I’m baffled. I thought Andras was more your type.” He cast an appreciative gaze on Carys. "Very well, your life for hers although I must say, she looks delectable."

Owen took a defensive stance and waited for the vampire to attack. Under his breath, he whispered, "Run, Carys. I saw Bellamy near the brick house."

Dagan's sinister laughter pierced the vapors shrouding him. "Oh be at ease; I'm not going to kill ye, handsome lad. I'm going to abduct ye."

About The Sin Eater's Prince

Physician Andras Maddock will never shun the sin eater Owen. How do you ignore someone you love? Owen is stunned when Andras saves him from a gruesome death at the hands of vampire. How did the ordinary man kill a vampire who possesses supernatural powers?

Dagan, Dark Lord of the Underworld, vows to take the sword from Andras, the one weapon that allows the vampires to tolerate sunlight. There’s also the matter of his father’s death, and Andras will pay.

Kindle: http://amzn.to/YFGDg9

Nook: http://bit.ly/LxNxus

Nook UK: http://bit.ly/X5S7cR

Kobo: http://bit.ly/MoF14k

This Week's Word - FLIVVER (huh?)

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Wed, 22 May 2013 13:30:00 +0000

Flivver

noun [ˈfli-vər]

Flivver means: Slang: something of unsatisfactory quality or inferior grade.

A Flivver is an American slang term used during the early part of the 20th century to refer to any small car that gave a rough ride, especially one that is small, inexpensive, and old. A contemporary term was a Tin Lizzy (referring to a Ford Model T). In 1926 Henry Ford introduced a flying car called a Sky Flivver but the project was canceled after a fatal test crash. The word has also been applied to small (750 ton) destroyers and small airplanes.

The term started to go out of style by the late 1930s or early 1940s, replaced by the use of jalopy in the writings of John Steinbeck (In Dubious Battle, 1936) and by Jack Kerouac in On the Road (1957).

FLIVVER is a scrabble word worth 16 points.

Image Reminder

Ford Model T

Get a load of those tires!

Can you think of something in your novel that is of inferior grade or of unsatisfactory quality? (No, not your WRITING, silly)

Here ... let me give you two examples of a FLIVVER in Sojourn With A Stranger, my GOTHIC, Historical novel rife with paranormal elements, i.e., ghosts, tea leaves, voodoo and black magic

Madelina

Today she would be classified as an herbalist, a healer and/or someone who thinks 'outside the box.' In the mid-1860s such people existed, but one would often find them and their dwelling on the outskirts of proper society. Men often knew more about their existence than women, probably for the simple reason they had occasion to be out and about more. Madelina is by no means a 'nasty' person but is of humble means, living deep in the forest outside the proper boundaries of town. She mixes elixirs, potions, and can even twist the hands of fate on occasion because of her knowledge. Derek Stafford must produce a MALE heir (male is the key word here). And rumor has it, Madelina can assist in enhancing the odds of that outcome. Course, one has to take the concoctions she's prepared and have a little faith in superstition to succeed.

Zara

Another lonely dweller of the woods and a Voodoo Priestess. She reads tea leaves, and if you can tolerate the eerie ambiance of her abode long enough, she might read your palm. Among Zara's other attributes is beauty. She's long a sleek, dark cat with hypnotic eyes, ruby lips and a body men kill for. When Derek's brother, Lyman, pays her a visit, he has one purpose in mind: To obtain a tincture that will abort any child his brother Derek sires. Nasty stuff this race to produce a male heir.

Zara gives Lyman the poisonous serum, but she also reads his tea leaves.

The hour is upon us, the day is fading fast.

The maiden's made her choices, his seeds will soon be cast.

A male comes to the manor, with eyes of emerald green.

Raise the goblets; wave the banners, the Stafford heir undoes the scheme.

Did I mention the ghost? Yes, Derek lost his first wife when she walked into the river and drowned. Poor Cinda, she haunts the hallways and graveyard of Stafford Manor. And she won't rest until she unmasks her killer.

Kindle: http://amzn.to/15cDs3l

Nook: http://bit.ly/KicQAa

Nasty Creatures from The Sin Eater's Prince - Gay Fiction VAMPIRE!

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Tue, 21 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

"Electric! Full of ancient folk lore as well as werewolves & even dragons!"

Five Stars

Yes, there are frightful creatures in The Sin Eater's Prince. That's one of the reasons I had so much fun researching the setting - WALES. My vampires don't sparkle and seldom are of good character. In fact, they're vicious.

Other nasty beasts you'll find between the pages:
The Hag of the Mist, a horrific-looking woman who screeches out a high-pitched warning when death is near.
Werewolves: Not shape-shifters, but down and dirty wolves who'd love nothing better than to rip someone's throat off. Don't desecrate their graves or they'll hunt you down until Hell consumes you.
The Fae: They can be and good and bad, but all are up to their eyeballs in mischief, tricks and magic.
Tommy Knockers - Grotesque little people who spend eternity in the mines. Some say if you get to close to their habitat, you can hear them banging against the walls of caverns and caves.

Here's a scene from The Sin Eater's Prince. The vampires have arrived in the village of Abergwan and it's going to get ugly:

Mimicking their mother's outcries of panic, children wailed, and men looked over their shoulders searching for the bloodthirsty enemy. Owen tore his gaze from Andras and looked down at Carys, touched by the tears sliding down her cheeks.

In the breath of a heartbeat the air grew thick with the shriek of banshees. What sounded like a thunderous flapping of wings overhead pierced the panicked voices of the crowd. Demonic guardians dipped, soared and hovered above them, their spines arched against a cloud-filled sky. Led by Dagan, the vampires descended, their arms open in graceful flight.
Cloaked in a pale mist of vapors, the vampire’s crimson eyes blazed fire and their lethal white fangs dripped spittle. An odious stench drifted toward the gallows—a pungent mixture of ashes, the earth and death.

Owen assessed the scene. Please, not Carys, don't take her.

Dagan stood in the center of the paralyzed onlookers, his cape shimmering in a vibrant shade of blood red. Stunned into silence, villagers stared with their mouths agape, their eyes masked in terror.

Things happened so quickly, Owen couldn't remember their order. Dagan sliced through the throat of an innocent bystander with one swift slash of his hand. His companions rushed through the crowd, their dark clothing a wild haze of speed. So many were cut down while frozen in time; their legs anchored to the ground, the whites of their eyes the only part visible. Screams shook the stars, blood arced and streamed, and body parts soared through the air, heads, arms and legs. With vomit rising in his throat, Owen scanned the crowd for Carys and finally saw her brightly-colored shawl.

He jumped from the platform and shouted through the bedlam. "Run, Carys, run!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Andras draw the sword and advance on a white-haired ghoul of ethereal beauty. Moving with speed and agility and striking faster than a viper, Andras cleaved an arm from the man's body. The demon reeled back with an anguished scream and pulled a claymore from the scabbard at his shoulder with his able hand.

The Prince's sword came up high, whirred through the air and keened its death knell. Sinking into the vampire's shoulder, the blade wobbled for a timeless moment before Andras pulled it free. The insufferable one fell back, but quickly parried with a deadly thrust toward Andras's heart. His dark eyes cold and lethal, Andras deflected the charge effortlessly.

On and on it went, the long tooth striking, Andras parrying. Metal clanked and echoed across the bloody battlefield. Thunder rolled and lightning flashed in perfect sync with the warring steel. Time and again the blades met and clashed and Owen couldn't tear his eyes from the gruesome battle.

Until Owen heard Carys scream.

He looked in the direction of her voice and his knees knocked. Circling her, Dagan frothed at the mouth, his hands moving in slow motion to encase her throat. Run, Owen, ye dolt, get to her before he kills her.

Without conscious thought, Owen lunged through the air and executed a perfect landing on the vampire's back. He pummeled his fists into the hard muscle to no avail. Dagan flung him to the ground as if he weighed no more than a feather and resumed his advance on Carys.
Owen scrambled to his feet and stepped between them, his arms out at his sides, his voice cold. "Ye will have to kill me first to get to her."

"Sweet Mother of Jesus," Carys rasped behind him. "The hounds of Hell have arrived."

Crimson eyes flared. "I admit I’m baffled. I thought Andras was more your type.” He cast an appreciative gaze on Carys. "Very well, your life for hers although I must say, she looks delectable."

Owen took a defensive stance and waited for the vampire to attack. Under his breath, he whispered, "Run, Carys. I saw Bellamy near the brick house."

Dagan's sinister laughter pierced the vapors shrouding him. "Oh be at ease; I'm not going to kill ye, handsome lad. I'm going to abduct ye."

About The Sin Eater's Prince

Kindle: http://amzn.to/YFGDg9

Nook: http://bit.ly/LxNxus

Nook UK: http://bit.ly/X5S7cR

Kobo: http://bit.ly/MoF14k

CANDI WALL Is Here With Agent/Editor Shop!!

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Mon, 20 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

As if the question ‘Wanna pitch to an agent or editor’ isn’t enough.

Hello! A huge thanks to all my wonderful hosts as I run all over cyberspace talking about Agent/Editor Shop at the Musetracks blog.

In this crazy world of easy access to information, it’s also easy to miss huge opportunities, or forget! Because I get so many comments that writers either forgot, or didn’t know Musetracks did pitch sessions, I asked a bunch of fellow writers, bloggers and readers to help me spread the word.

For those of you who don’t me, I’m Candi Wall, one of the authors who co-contribute to the Musetracks blog. Jennifer Bray-Weber, Marie-Claude Bourque, and Stacey Purcell are my super smart co-contributors and goodness knows where I’d be without them!

I’ve been hosting acquiring Agents at Musetracks for almost two years, and only recently, we decided to add editors as our guest. We’ve been lucky to have agents like Melissa Jeglinski, Jessica Alvarez, Mollie Glick, Becky Vinter, Kevan Lyon, Scott Eagan, Lois Winston, Jill Marsal, Michelle Grajkowski, Kimberley Cameron, Emmanuella Alspaugh (now Morgan), Laura Bradford, Jenny Bent, Sara Crowe, Weronika Janczuk and Stan Soper.

Our guest editors thus far have been Rhonda Penders w/ The Wild Rose Press, Jennifer Miller w/ Samhain Publishing, Debby Gilbert w/ Soul Mate Publishing, Beth Walker w/ Secret Cravings Publishing, and the editors at Books To Go Now have booked three dates in the future!

What we offer is a ‘Pitch Day’. I only take 30 pitches, and only the first thirty VIABLE pitches that come in on pitch day will be seen by the agent or editor. And I will warn you, I’m a stickler for following guidelines. If you don’t include exactly what is in the rules… I delete without prejudice. And I delete quite a few. (And yes, I receive plenty of hate mail.)

You can find us here:

Musetracks and there is a sidebar with Agent/Editor Shop dates and attending professionals

You can find the rules for pitching here:

Musetracks Agent/Editor Shop rules Please read them carefully!

I’ve also created a Yahoo group so writers can sign up to receive Agent/Editor Shop updates. I only send messages with agent/editor attendance updates, reminders of pitch dates, and any information about the contests we run on pitch day. Usually a giveaway or a chance to comment for the Top Pitch Slot. You can request to join here:

Editor/Agent Shop Newsletter Group

Easy as pie! We welcome every stage of writer and at Musetracks, we strive to help other writers, the way we were all helped when we first started out, and the way we are supported today.

Hope to see you all at a pitch day, and if not, feel free to pass the word along to others.

Happy reading and writing!

~Candi

A little about Candi:

Candi Wall is an author of contemporary romance, and YA.

Her début novel PRIMITIVE NIGHTS released from Samhain in Jan 2013, and STAY, the first in the Changing Tides series releases from Samhain on Aug 6^th 2013.

She’s a mother of four (21,17,12,9), a rescuer of six (4 dogs & 2 cats), proud auntie of too many to count, a soon-to-be grandmother and great-auntie, a retired Cub Scout leader of 16 years, an avid animal lover/protector and ex-animal control officer. Oh yeah, and wife.

You can find her here:

www.candiwallbooks.com

Weekend Writing Warriors Sharing Again!

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 19 May 2013 15:00:00 +0000

Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors . . .

Dear Madame,
The army regrets to inform you, your husband, Sergeant Dawson Finch, has been listed as missing and presumed dead.
Time ceased to exist and a sound Rory didn't recognize escaped from her throat. She sensed Isabelle standing beside her. She dropped the missive into her sister's hand, turned her back on the soldiers and vomited.

Long minutes passed before a throat cleared behind her. "Our sincere regrets Mrs. Finch. Heathens rode off with your husband's body." The voice paused. "We, that is, the army, did not recover his remains."

Missing? Presumed dead? His body taken by heathens? No! No! No!

The above passage is from SKY DANCE, Book 2 of the Sky Tinted Water series. Sky Dance will released in July of 2013. In the meantime, you can find out more about Book 1, SKY TINTED WATER here:

AMAZON KINDLE

Barnes and Noble NOOK

About Sky Tinted Water:

Malevolent schemes and passion collide in this sweet historical novel. Set in Minnesota during the Civil War and the Sioux uprising, this is the story of Rory Hudson, the exquisite Irish lass with an unbreakable spirit and the enigmatic Dawson Finch, a man bound by honor, duty and loyalty.

"Diablo will capture your attention and once she's got it she will not let go until you read the very last sentence."

"A well written story, well placed and with a good plot."

Don't forget to visit ALL the wonderful writers and bloggers participating in this week's

WEEKEND WRITING WARRIORS HERE

Welcome Kharisma Rhayne and OUTLAW'S GAMBLE

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 19 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

OUTLAW'S GAMBLE

KHARISMA RHAYNE

Slade is a half Native American man with nothing to lose and wants to sell his ranch. Jess is a stubborn, resourceful woman with everything to lose who is determined to buy it. What neither expected was to face was the biggest gamble of their lives.

BLURB:
Slade Blackclaw was a drifter with no desire to settle down and even less to become a rancher. However, with the death of his father he inherited the ranch that his cherished mother had adored until her death. Being half Native American afforded Slade no luxury in life and he's learned to take what he needs when he has to.

Jess Logan needed to work. Her father, William "Sly Bill" Logan, was growing deeper in gambling debt as each day passed. The last beating left him bedridden for more than a week. Though she hated him for all but selling her off to pay his latest debt, losing her mother at the age of six made Sly Bill her only remaining family and someone she would not turn her back on. She had less than three months to come up with the money owed or she'd have to marry the dirty, foul smelling Otis Grayson in order to settle her father's debt.

After returning to Blueridge, Montana to survey the ranch, Slade decided he wouldn’t stay. Having a permanent home was not in his cards. Taking out an ad at the local saloon, he acquiesces and meets the only person who replied. Little did he know, Jess was nothing like what he expected.

Jess knows she isn't what Slade had hoped for...let alone what he wanted. But with debtors closing in on her father, and very possibly her virginity, Jess will do anything or be anyone for Slade to save her father and, more importantly, herself.

Release is scheduled for late October with a full book tour beginning in November. To keep up on Slade, Jess, Sly Bill and the release of Outlaw’s Gamble, please visit any or all of the following: Website – Blog – Facebook - Twitter

To enter the tour wide giveaway, enter here: a Rafflecopter giveaway

AUTHOR BIO
Years ago, Kharisma traded in snow, ice and tornadoes for sun, heat, sand and mountains. She now lives in beautiful Arizona with her husband, kids & rescue dogs and goats.

Now, in her eleventh year in Arizona, she is once again braving new terrain and has moved up into the White Mountains. This will be the first year that she will see freezing temperatures and snow. Her love for nature and animals is well known and she gets to indulge it in her new home with wolves, coyotes, snakes, and various other creatures as her nearest neighbors. Living in the middle of nowhere is something she wouldn’t change for the world.

Dabbling in writing through Junior High and High School, Kharisma officially got her start writing LGBT, BDSM and erotica. Never one to slow down, she started writing several additional genres including crime, medical, historical and paranormal. Her latest adventure is a dark horror. Her Highlander Mine serial is an unexpected success of which she hopes to have more of.

When you pick up one of her books, she wants you to walk away turned on and inspired! Come take a stroll into Kharisma’s worlds of ecstasy, love, adventure and fear. VISIT KHARISMA'S WEB SITE HERE and you can also KHARISMA ON FACEBOOK HERE

Kharisma, thanks so much for visiting the Keep today. Outlaw's Gamble looks like one sexy read!

There's A Little VOYEURISM in All Of Us

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Fri, 17 May 2013 09:16:00 +0000

Definition of VOYEUR
1 one obtaining sexual gratification from observing unsuspecting individuals who are partly undressed, naked, or engaged in sexual acts; broadly : one who habitually seeks sexual stimulation by visual means

2 a prying observer who is usually seeking the sordid or the scandalous

What is voyeurism?
Voyeurism is a keen interest or fetish/perversion or an addiction where a person derives sexual pleasure out of witnessing someone undressing or indulging in a sexual act.

Voyeurism is more of a male obsession than a female interest. Men are extremely curious when it comes to female anatomy. But truthfully, both men and women, have a little bit of a voyeur in us/ The voyeuristic side of our persona stays within control because human society has trained us to look at voyeurism as a perverse act. It's not a perverse act if two parties are in agreement to engage. (However, looking at your neighbor undress and slip into the bathtub through binoculars and without permission IS perverse.)

There’s a voyeur in all of us, but how far we go to see what we want to see makes all the difference between a person who’s addicted to voyeurism and a casual voyeur who peeks at something when the opportunity presents itself. Ana again, your voyeuristic side doesn’t make you a monster or a bad person as long as you’re staring at someone who wants to be watched.

If you’re a casual voyeur who just wants to make your sex life sexier, involve your partner and experiment with voyeurism together. There are many ways to accomplish this. Here are some suggestions:

Engage in role play
Use a webcam if one partner is out of town
Go on vacation at a nudist camp/resort
Go to a strip club together
Use mirrors
Find another couple who agree to watch you and your partner during sex and are willing to reciprocate
Make a video of you and your partner having sex and then sit back and enjoy the movie!

Voyeurism comes into play (no pun intended) in DECADENT DECEPTIONS. Morgan convinces Olivia to join him at Immortelles, the most lavish brothel in Savannah to engage in voyeurism with him. Here's a scene from the novel while they watch another couple engage in sex.

Setup: Morgan loves Olivia and secretly, she harbors the same feelings for him. An unfulfilled sexual encounter in her mother's rose garden ten years sent local tongues wagging. Intent on salvaging his daughter's reputation, Olivia's father forbid Olivia to see Morgan ever again. Now, her father is dead and Morgan has no intention of honoring a promise he made under duress a decade ago.

To complicate matters, a serial killer haunts the streets of Savannah and Olivia is the next victim on the madman's list.

Passage:
“Morgan, what-whatever are you doing here?”
“I desired a drink and intended to follow it up with a visit to Immortelles.”
“Immortelles?” Her eyes widened, and a blush rose in her cheeks. “You frequent the establishment in the middle of the afternoon?”
“Under a blue moon, in the afternoon, whenever the fancy strikes.”
“You are incorrigible,” she said, her eyes sparking.
“You misunderstand me. I mean only to observe, not partake.”
Giving him the direct cut, she placed the fabrics back onto the shelf. “Good day to you, then.”
Denying her a chance to bolt, he clutched her elbow, ushered her to the back of the store and backed her into a wall. With his hands at the sides of her head, palms flat against the hard surface, he said, “Join me.”
Bewilderment masked her features. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Do not give me that innocent look. You know you are itching to return.”
A stillness fell over her.
“Why not with me?” It was difficult to torment her while she looked at him with those malachite eyes but he wanted to be near her, had an overwhelming urge to watch her sudden interest in carnal lust. “Unless, of course, you are afraid.”
His words brought forth the desired response. Her spine
stiffened and her chin swept up. “You are the one who should be afraid. You cannot seem to control a certain growing interest whenever a woman falls into your lap.”
Clearly a taunt, he wanted to toss her onto the floor, take her like a common camp follower and show her she was equally affected. Realizing such an action would put an immediate halt to his pending suggestion, he gathered his wits. Catching her chin in the firm grip of his hand, he pressed on. “Yes or no, do you have the courage?”
“You are mad.” A half-laugh parted her plump lips. “People will see us in broad daylight.”
“No, they will not.” He pointed to the back door. “That leads to the alleyway and one block away is another back door to the brothel. I assure you, not a soul will notice us slip out of here into there.”
She glanced around the room, her eyes darting right to left.
“I double-dare you,” he said with emphasis.
“You are certain no one will know?”
He crossed his heart and without waiting for her to change her mind, led her through the back door into the alleyway. Arriving at Immortelles within minutes, he ushered her through the door and down the hall to a room. It all happened so fast, he had a hard time reconciling his plans were to speak with Madame first. Instead, he found himself about to enter a peep room with the woman who made his blood clot.
“Oh no, do not tell me.” She paused at the door, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You have a standing appointment to voyeur? You walk into the brothel in the middle of the afternoon and go directly to a peep room?”
“I told you, I planned to call on Madame today. I sent a missive this morning.” He pushed the door open. “It has all been prearranged.”
“You prearranged it?”
With a nod, he pointed to the chairs about to offer a lame answer when she said, “How convenient, two peepholes.”
“There are those who adore having company while they engage in voyeurism.”
“I am not one of them,” she said with narrowed eyes. “In fact, I find it a little crass.”
“Pretend I am not here.”
“How am I to accomplish that with the holes mere inches apart?” She looked at the seating arrangement. “And the chairs on top of
one another?”
“Sit,” he said, directing her into the plush cushion.
She shot him a lethal glare and slumped into the chair. He was delighted with the layout. He eased himself down beside her and smiled. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh. Perfect.
“Must you be breathing down my neck?” she asked, the familiar scent of tea roses and jasmine wafting over him.
“I cannot enjoy the performance from the mezzanine.”
The door opened moments later. Morgan did not know the man but that did not surprise him. Hundreds of transients passed through the brothel every month in addition to the regulars. If women thought this particular john handsome, it would be in a rugged way. The rough features, textured skin and dark, wavy hair hung a bit unruly around the collar of his shirt and he definitely lacked polish. He cut a fine figure, however, with the wide shoulders, trim waist, and underneath the trousers, Morgan imagined, strong, well-muscled legs.
From the corner of his eye, he studied Olivia and cussed the betraying blood pumping to his cock. That is all it took, one look at her face or her exquisite profile, the upturned nose and high cheekbones, long lashes and rose-petal lips, and the cursed member between his legs saluting the ceiling. Perhaps this was not a good idea. How in hell could he watch a man and a woman make love and not imagine, wish with all his heart it was him and Liv?
Her lashes half-shuttered, her bottom lip parted by her panting sighs, she seemed intent on the man. What was she thinking right now? Damnation, he did not want to go down that road. What if she imagined the stud in that room waited for her, longed for his hands to caress her body? Christ! What had he been thinking? There was no point in pleading a sudden headache. He could not invent a feeble excuse now, claim he had forgotten an important appointment. Olivia Breedlove would see through his lies, raise the victory banner. No, come Heaven or Hell, he would draw on a lifetime of reserve, force his runaway heart to calm, turn his eyes away from that temptress’s face and watch the performance.
The woman entered—Annie, his most skilled courtesan. She had the capabilities and the body to call forth the thunder while pleasing a man, or so Madame said. So did his ledgers. Her willowy legs went on for miles and her firm, pert breasts and dark nipples contrasted sharply with her pale, flawless skin. Hair the color of chocolate tumbled around her patrician features in wild abandon, begging a man to crush it with his hands. She undressed and Olivia
licked her bottom lip.
He reminded himself to quit looking at Olivia.
The man disrobed, right down to his birthday suit, and smiled the legendary smile of a master at seduction, a skilled gigolo about to ply his trade. Olivia squirmed in her chair and leaned forward. Morgan wondered if she recognized it, the gift that set this john apart from other men. If not, she would soon.
Annie walked to the man, her hips swaying with nimble grace, her lips parting to accept his mouth. With his eyes closed, he ran his hand along the side of her neck and slipped it down to fondle her breast. His thumb and forefinger found a nipple and he stroked and tweaked the bud until she moaned her pleasure. Drawing him to her, she wound her arms about his neck. He caressed her, gliding his fingers around her waist and over the soft flesh of her buttocks. Slipping his hand between their bodies, he found her mound of dark curls.
His fingers entered her, coaxing a wanton response. She threw her head back, and her lips opened, allowing a string of moans to escape her throat. Annie purred her bliss, arched her back and spread her legs wide, affording him full access to explore her to his content.
“Exquisite, is she not?” Morgan whispered.
Olivia cast him a sideways nod, her eyes half-closed, her breathing erratic. As for Morgan, his chest burned, his cock pulsated, and he accepted, leaked as well.

* 25 Five Star Reviews

* Special Content Alert: Voyuerism

* RWA Molly Contest Finalist (Erotica category)

Kindle: http://amzn.to/109E4WI

Nook: http://bit.ly/Kd6NC1

Nook UK: http://bit.ly/Yvkwcu

Kobo: http://bit.ly/NKY4r0

This Week's Word Means "Young and Fresh"

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Wed, 15 May 2013 12:30:00 +0000

Vernal

Adjective [VER-nul]

Of, relating to, or occurring in the spring. Since spring is also the time when many young animals are born, Vernal has the secondary meaning of fresh, young, and youthful.

Latin vernalis, alteration of vernus, from ver spring; akin to Greek ear spring, Sanskrit vasanta. First Known Use: 1530

William Wordsworth, Henry David Thoreau, and other nature-loving transcendentalists of the nineteenth century were obsessed with the word Vernal. Wordsworth once said, “One impulse from a vernal wood / May teach you more of man, / Of moral evil and of good, / Then all the sages can.”

Synonyms:
Adolescent, blooming, blossoming, boyish, boylike, budding, burgeoning, callow, childish, childlike, crude, developing, early, fledgling, fresh, girlish, girllike, green*, growing, half-grown, ignorant, inexperienced, infant, inferior, junior, juvenile, little, modern, new, newborn, newish, not aged, pubescent, puerile, punk, raw, recent, tender, tenderfoot, undeveloped, undisciplined, unfinished, unfledged, unlearned, unpracticed, unripe.

Image Reminder

Youthful and Fresh

Kira Barton is a criminal profiler - a young criminal profiler. That doesn't stop her from pursuing a serial killer. She promised his innocent victims she'd find the madman and put him behind bars for the rest of his miserable life. But . . . the killer is onto Kira and traps her in an abandoned building while she's tracking him. He lowers the blade to her throat and her life flashes before her eyes. And then she wakes up in another land, a distant, foreign locale, with wild boars, assassins and a decadent prince. Read more about DUST AND MOONLIGHT in the short excerpt below.

The door creaked open and in walked…a tall, finely honed body. At first glance, Kira thought Lucifer had crafted some sort of sick joke. The man's muscles were tight, his shoulders broad, his hips narrow. The breath left her body in one enormous rush. Still clutching the weapon before her, she aimed it at his chest, intent on delivering an arrow into his heart. In that inconvenient moment, the dream came to her. A man with golden hair and eyes the color of blue gems stood at the edge of the forest. His voice hummed through the trees, low and mesmerizing. "Eros will make you burn with love for me."
She swallowed the lump in her throat. "You're not The Scarlet Angel."

His amused smirk angered her. "And I see ye are no longer ill."

He watched her with interest, the intense eyes licking their way over her breasts and hips, settling for a moment in the cleft between her thighs. Long seconds later, his gaze returned to her face and moved slowly to the weapon. "If ye intend to kill me put one leg in front for balance."

Damn, the man reeked arrogance.

"Now hold the crossbow level with your chest and pull back on the notch." He looked over his nose and took a step forward. "The small bronze nubbin by your thumb."

"Don't come any closer!" She blew a lock of hair from her forehead. "I swear I'll shoot you!"

His hands came down, palms up and he smiled, a wicked, wicked smile. She found it difficult to concentrate. He could be an actor in a play, but why didn't he just say so? He watched her with growing interest, as if reluctant to take on the weapon in her trembling hand.

A white shirt, overlaid with a leather vest, covered his torso. The pants were also leather and clung to his muscular legs like second skin. She licked her dry lips. The scent of something wild and primal drifted across the room—his clothing or him, she didn't know which. Perfect eyebrows rose above the mosaic blue eyes. His features were chiseled, his mouth a tad too generous, but only a smidgen. His magnificent body lacked the teensiest ounce of fat. Images of the dream warrior flooded her muddled thoughts. God's pure vision of man. It couldn't be…wasn't possible.

Her knees knocked, whether from his presence or the thought of killing him, she didn't know. For a moment indecision reigned, and damn if he didn't pick up on it. His confident gaze turned predatory as he advanced. With every step he took, some unnamed organ between her thighs ached and hot juices came in a flood between her legs. And only after one look at that sculpted face.

The mesmerizing voice filled the warm space between them. "Why don't ye put that down and we'll parley? If ye are done looking at me, that is."

She wanted to slap him, would if he came any closer. "I have no intention of putting this down," she said more confidently than she felt. "What's the deal? You work with The Scarlet Angel?"

He shook his head, the long, golden hair flowing like spun gold across his massive shoulders.

Her fingers shaking, she fumbled with the mechanism. "Tell me who you are or I'll kill you!"

In a blur, he came at her. She drew back on the trigger and let the arrow fly. Morbid fascination gripped her when it hit him in the shoulder, and stuck. Before he leaped through the air to tackle her, his eyes gleamed hard and cold. They hit the floor hard, she, kicking, biting and screaming, he, doing his best to restrain her. His strong legs pinned the lower half of her body to the floor, his good hand locking her wrists over her head. The arrow protruded from his chest and oozed bright red blood. Thick, corded arms, level with her eyes, reminded her of his powerful strength. She screamed when his knee dug into the soft flesh between her thighs and pinned her to ground like a hog-tied heifer.
He shouted so loud she flinched. "Be still!"

She stopped her frantic struggle and stared at him blank-eyed. In the next moment, he reached up, broke the shaft in two and tossed it across the room. The anger left his face, replaced by confusion.

Amazon KINDLE

Barnes and Noble NOOK

$1.99 (full length novel)

Meet CALYPSO - The Time Traveling Cat from CRADLE OF DREAMS

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Tue, 14 May 2013 12:53:00 +0000

CALYPSO - The Time Traveling Cat, is one of the key players in CRADLE OF DREAMS. In fact, she's the key to time travel (sshhh, not many know that, yet).

The name "tabby cat" brings to mind many different things to different people. The old phrase "alley cat" may come to mind with some people: the rough-coated, scar-nosed, tattered-eared lurker of alleys and dumpsters. Others, myself included, will think of their favorite cats. Indeed, I can't remember a time when our home has not been graced by one or more tabby cats.

Tabbies are so ubiquitous that many people think of them as a breed. Not so; the tabby is a color pattern - most often stripes, but sometimes stripes and whorls, or even spots and stripes. The tabby pattern is so popular that it can be found in many pedigreed cats today, and is accepted in a number of breeds by the most popular registries.

Although there are many variations of each, the tabby pattern falls into four basic classes. A fifth includes tabby as part of another basic color pattern, e.g. the "patched" tabby, which may be a calico or tortoiseshell cat with tabby patches (the latter is called a "torbie." Some pointed breeds also allow "tabby points" within their color standards. Is it any wonder the tabby cat is so ubiquitous? In fact, the gene for tabby pattern can be found in all domestic cats. Look at a "coal black" cat in the sun some day, and see if you can find the hidden tabby markings.

Types of Tabby Patterns
Classic: This pattern usually has whorls ending in a "target" on the side of the cat. Many American Shorthair cats demonstrate this pattern. The cat pictured in this chart has very high color contrast, which shows his whorls clearly.

Mackerel (striped): This is by far the most common pattern, so much so that some people think it should have received the title "Classic." Mackerel tabbies have striped rings around their tail and legs, a "necklace" of stripes on the front of their chests, and bands of solid or broken stripes running down the sides of their bodies. They will have the darker color in spots running in two lines across their tummies (called "vest buttons.") The ginger kitten shows an example of broken stripes..

Spotted: The Ocicat and the American Bobtail are good examples of spotted tabby pattern, although some Moggies will also demonstrate this color pattern. The American Bobtail in the chart illustrates the spotted tabby pattern to perfection. (This cat also illustrates the American Bobtail section of my Breeds Snapshots.)

Agouti (Ticked): Most tabby cats will have agouti hairs as part of their pattern. If you look closely, you'll see different bands of color down the length of the cat's individual hairs. Cats with an all-ticked pattern almost shimmer in the sunlight, because of the color variation. The Abyssinian in the chart is a classic example of a ticked tabby or agouti pattern.

INFO FROM ABOUT CATS HERE

Cradle of Dreams, an Erotic Time Travel Novella
Warnings: explicit language and sex, including anal sex

With visions of battle still fresh in his mind, Roane Bradfield returns home to find the woman he loves betrothed to another. He corners Kendrick Moreland at Dowager Huggins’ Grand Ball and whisks her into the secluded library. One way or the other, he will know the reason the duplicitous beauty cut him from her life when she promised to wait forever.

Read More About CALYPSO and CRADLE OF DREAMS

KINDLE HERE

NOOK HERE

KOBO HERE

WOLFHOUNDS and What You Might Not Know About Them . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Mon, 13 May 2013 12:31:00 +0000

Yes! They're IRISH (like me) . . .
The Irish Wolfhound is a giant-sized dog, one of the tallest breeds in the world, reaching the size of a small pony. The head is long and the skull is not too broad. The muzzle is long and somewhat pointed. The small ears are carried back against the head when the dog is relaxed and partway pricked when the dog is excited. The neck is long, strong and well arched. The chest is wide and deep. The long tail hangs down and is slightly curved. The legs are long and strong. The feet are round, with well-arched toes. The wiry, shaggy coat is rough to the touch on the head, body and legs and longer over the eyes and under the jaw. Coat colors include gray, brindle, red, black, pure white or fawn, with gray being the most common.

Height: 28 - 35 inches (71 - 90 cm)
Weight: 90 - 150 pounds (40 - 69 kg)
Life Expetancy - 6 to 8 years
The Irish Wolfhound can reach up to 7 feet tall when standing on his hind legs

Temperament:
Irish Wolfhounds are sweet-tempered, patient, kind, thoughtful and very intelligent. Their excellent nature can be trusted with children. Willing and eager to please, they are unconditionally loyal to their owner and family. They tend to greet everyone as a friend, so do not count on them being a watchdog, but may be a deterrent simply due to their size. This giant breed can be clumsy and are slow to mature in both body and mind, taking about two years before they are full grown. However, they grow rapidly and high-quality food is essential.

Origin:
The Irish Wolfhound's name originates from is use as a wolf hunter, and not from its appearance. This is a very old breed with Roman records dating as far back as 391 AD. They were used in wars, and for guarding herds and property and for hunting Irish elk, deer, boar and wolves. They were held in such high esteem that battles were fought over them. Irish Wolfhounds were often given as royal presents. Boar and wolf became extinct in Ireland and as a result the Irish Wolfhound declined in population. A British army officer by the name of Captain George Graham bred them in the second half of the 19th century. The breed was restored by the introduction of Great Dane and Deerhound blood. The Irish Wolfhound Club was founded in 1885 and it was recognized by the AKC in 1897. In 1902 a hound was first presented to the Irish Guards as a mascot. It was recognized by the Kennel Club as a sporting breed in 1925. The Irish Wolfhound Society was founded in 1981.

Did you know there's a canine hero in LAND OF FALLING STARS? And he's Sophia's (heroine) Irish Wolfhound. His name is Ricochet and on more than one occasion he comes to Sophia and Gavin's rescue.

About Land of Falling Stars, an erotic romance (Civil War)
After her parents die in a fire, Sophia Whitfield struggles to save her beloved home, Arbor Rose. The Civil War has devastated the South, and another blue coat has come to steal her meager possessions. Before the hated enemy inflicts his destruction, she shoots him . . . and then discovers the soldier is Gavin, the champion of her childhood.

Gavin's dark secret lurks in Sophia’s future. When she discovers the truth, she's torn between a burning hunger for the man she truly loves and loyalty to Jesse, their childhood friend. The despicable acts of war have changed everything Sophia and Gavin once cherished. Yet somewhere deep in their hearts, the mystical Land of Falling Stars still exists.

** 25 FIVE STAR REVIEWS **

RECOMMENDED READ

BOOK OF THE MONTH

TOP REVIEWER PICK

HISTORICAL/ROMANCE

To read more about RICOCHET and Wolfhounds you can find LAND OF FALLING STARS

AMAZON KINDLE HERE

BARNES and NOBLE NOOK HERE

KOBO HERE

#sneakpeeksunday - Historical Romance

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 12 May 2013 13:30:00 +0000

AND WELCOME TO SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY!

Today's excerpt is from one of my best-selling romance novels - LAND OF FALLING STARS

Don't forget . . . visit the other wonderful authors who posted SNEAK PEEKS today GO HERE TO SEE THE LIST

About Land of Falling Stars - Erotic Romance/Historical

After her parents die in a fire, Sophia Whitfield struggles to save her beloved home, Arbor Rose. The Civil War has devastated the South, and another blue coat has come to steal her meager possessions. Before the hated enemy inflicts his destruction, she shoots him . . . and then discovers the soldier is Gavin, the champion of her childhood.

Gavin's dark secret lurks in Sophia’s future. When she discovers the truth, she's torn between a burning hunger for the man she truly loves and loyalty to Jesse, their childhood friend. The despicable acts of war have changed everything Sophia and Gavin once cherished. Yet somewhere deep in their hearts, the mystical Land of Falling Stars still exists.

SNEAK PEEK

Years and distance, not even the war had cooled his infuriating desire for Sophia. The woman slithered around him like a sleek, dark cat, her supple body sheathing him in a fiery web of unleashed passion. Yes, deep passion smoldered in the woman, an untapped reserve of simmering lust. Jesse, with his staunch moral upbringing and dandified ways had never dared compromise precious Sophia. Jesse had never tossed her in the hay or ravished her in the tall swamp grass of the Mill Pond to sate his hunger. Jesse had his chance, and all those years Gavin had stood by and watched from the sidelines. He wanted her and now she wanted him. He felt it with every beat of his tormented heart.

AMAZON KINDLE

BARNES AND NOBLE NOOK

Thanks for stopping by!

#SweetSatSample - Excerpt Historical ROMANCE

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sat, 11 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

WELCOME TO #SWEET SATURDAY SAMPLE!
READ THE REST OF THE SAT. SAMPLES HERE

Today's sample is from my latest Historical Romance SKY TINTED WATER

About The Novel:

When Dawson enlists in the army to bring peace to nation divided, Rory’s world plummets into a tailspin. War, distance and time separate them, but nothing can dispel the haunting memories of their love. Not even death can destroy their fierce passion or a love so strong it beats the odds of the impossible.

~ Sweet Sample ~

Rory and Dawson meet for the first time
Rory found a man-made trail not far from the house and decided to see where it led. She kept track of the various species of trees she knew, oak, walnut, elm, birch, and several varieties of evergreen. Traipsing the woods in Boston with Isabelle, she’d learned to recognize a variety of plants. She took mental note of their proximity so they could return in the coming weeks.

Now and then, she snapped off the branch of a tree. Since oak were the tallest with the widest trunks, the route home would be easy to follow. Small critters scampered across the path ahead, squirrels, rabbits and even a raccoon once. Birds chattered from the trees and some called out to warn of her presence. She hadn’t wandered too far when she heard water trickling over rocks. Certain the current connected with the stream in back of the house, curiosity propelled her to veer off the path and find it.

The forest grew more dense here but wasn’t impassable. The hem of her skirt caught on thorns of bracken now and then but not enough to make her turn back. Perhaps she’d find a mist-shrouded glen or a family of faeries making merry in a pool shaded by lacy ferns. Isabelle always said, “A sight worth seeing takes effort to find.”

The sound of the current grew louder, which meant her mystical glade drew near. Rory lifted the limb of a birch obstructing her view and . . . gasped. A man knelt on the opposite banks of the stream. His head lowered toward the water, he cupped a handful in his hands and splashed his chest. She couldn’t see his face, but knew by the broad shoulders and sinewy ropes of his forearms, a young man knelt in the sand. Not an ounce of fat claimed his exposed torso. Her gaze wandered to a white, cotton shirt canopying a crop of scrub brush, and socks and boots lay to his right. She wondered if he planned to remove his trousers next and enter the stream for a swim. She should make her presence known or at the very least flee, but she couldn’t convince her legs to obey. Not until she saw his eyes, then she’d leave. They could be brown but then again, perhaps they were blue, like the indigo hues in his pitch black hair.

Rory drifted into a fantasy dream while he splashed more water under his arms and across that hard, flat abdomen. What a magnificent man. Not one of the young men who’d called on her in Boston compared. Not by a smidgen. Maybe the gorgeous creature had lost his way. Perhaps he’d embarked on the adventure of his life and stopped for a rest. Or maybe the man was an outlaw hiding out from his pursuers. She’d never discover the answer to those questions, and for some reason, the thought saddened her.

At last he came to his feet. With her pulse racing and her heart drumming, she watched him unbutton his trousers. Good Lord, within seconds he’d roll them down that narrow pelvis and step out of them. Decorum claimed her; she had to withdraw. Retreating backwards, she pivoted and then realized her long, auburn hair had snared the arm of a tall thorny bush. She tugged and yanked, yet couldn’t free the strands tangled in its ruthless grip. Forgetting her intent to remain invisible and the inexcusable predicament of spying on a near-naked man, an exasperated groan slipped from her throat.

Still fighting with the bush, she jerked her chin in his direction. Their eyes met and locked. Time passed; one slow heartbeat after another. Deep blue. Even from this distance, his eyes sparkled like sapphires. And his smile—or was it a smirk—was one step from heaven. His generous, sensual mouth conjured images of his lips on hers. She imagined them closing over hers, tasting, teasing . . . oh, she had to stop thinking about this decadent stranger and do something to free her hair. Dear God, help me. I promise never to spy on another human as long as I live.

“Got a little trouble there, eh?” Without buttoning his trousers, he leaned over and plucked a knife from his boot.

She shook her head.

“Hold still, I’ll be right over.” He entered the stream, the water rippling around his narrow waist. “You should tie that long hair back while trekking through the woods.” Onward he came, the smirk erased by a wolfish grin.

AMAZON KINDLE

BARNES & NOBLE NOOK

KOBO

This Week's word Means "Plump Girl"

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Thu, 09 May 2013 01:00:00 +0000

Zaftig

Adjective [zäf-tig, zof]

Having a full rounded figure; pleasingly plump.

Yiddish zaftik juicy,succulent, from zaft juice, sap, from Middle High German saf, saft, from Old High German saf. First Known Use: circa 1936.

A word of Yiddish origin used to describe a chubby girl, but in a very good way. However, a word of caution to men: even though it's a kindhearted word, and a euphemism for fat, your wife/girlfriend probably won't feel the same way. She might, but if you call her zaftig, you're more than likely to get a black eye or have to stand outside the bathroom with tissues.

Zaftig is worth 19 points in Scrabble

IMAGE REMINDER - Plump Girl

Keta's Erotic Romance Books KINDLE LAND OF FALLING STARS DECADENT DECEPTIONS DUST AND MOONLIGHT HOLDING ON TO HEAVEN CRADLE OF DREAMS HIS ALONE SOJOURN WITH A STRANGER WHERE THE RAIN IS MADE THANKS FOR STOPPING BY

Travel Back In Time with DUST AND MOONLIGHT - Fantasy

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 05 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

FANTASY

And

TIME TRAVEL

Thanks for stopping by to read an excerpt from DUST & MOONLIGHT. I love to read Fantasy and Time Travel novels. Writing one is even more fun. You'll find spotted cats, wild boars and wizards between the pages ... oh, and a decadent Prince named Balion.

HERE'S THE EXCERPT

In this scene, Kira has stolen a medallion from Prince Balion. After all, it belonged to her father when he lived in Locke Cress. Kira is lost in a jungle, trying to find the location that brought her to this strange land. Perhaps if she holds the medallion and chants the magic words, she'll return home.

* * *

Kira passed more than a thousand trees draped in twisted vines and slithering black serpents. On a fool's mission, caught in a hopeless labyrinth of never-ending circles, twists and bends, despair found her. For hours, she'd been in the forest, running in circles, trudging through sweltering swamps and breath-sucking tropical forests. Wearily, she dropped onto a stump, buried her head in her hands, and wept.

At every pause, she'd held the medallion in her hands, closed her eyes, and repeated the chant. "Full moon, winter's night, hear my call, see my plight. Come daughter of hope, savior of grief, come with me to a place of peace." She waited, and when nothing happened, wailed. The air around her wove a thread of malevolence through her befuddled brain. She knew with certainty if she didn't find the spot where she'd landed soon, she'd no longer need air.

Courage and determination had knocked on her door that morning, and then led her to the medallion in Balion's bedchamber. Tired of playing the pawn in their silly war games, and weary of attending a one person pity-party, she lifted the talisman from the table and reminded herself she'd almost died in this strange land three times. If she hoped to see her parents again, the time had come to take matters into her own hands. She was a psychological profiler, for God's sake, an intelligent, educated woman who could surely outsmart a bevy of medieval characters from a distant, albeit very distant, past. Out of temper, not to mention options, reality smacked her in the face harder than the rain that had suddenly materialized. Hopeless, her situation loomed utterly hopeless.

Soaked clear through to her skin, she rose from the stump and headed for a cave ahead. Nestled between clusters of tawny cliffs, the shelter looked as good as the next place to sort out her thoughts, and, it would be dry. Tired, hungry, and oh so wet, she entered, slumped against a wall near the entrance and slithered to the ground.

She closed her eyes, and moments later opened them, her gut-wrenching sixth sense screaming danger. Low-pitched growls heaved the stagnant air, paralyzing her with fear, tenfold in comparison to the day The Scarlet Angel held the knife to her throat. A primordial scent filled the cavern, the same odious aroma that drifted over her the day the beast chased her in the forest.

The cat advanced, his golden eyes flaming with an odd mixture of lust and death. With nauseating dread, she knew she had looked into those orbs before. A series of vignettes rushed forth—Garrick entering a room and leaning against the trunk of a tree. Her suspicions had been right, impossible as it seemed. Mother of Jesus help me, Garrick and the cat are one in the same.

Feral heat enveloped her and hot breath fanned her cheeks as the great predator moved in at a foot-dragging pace. Foolishly, she'd left the spear behind, and nothing fell within her grasp as her hand searched the ground, no heavy sticks, no steel pipes this time. Kira's short life flashed before her, and her mother's violet eyes and father's strong jaw.
She whispered a prayer, "Let it be quick."

Lethal, white fangs gleamed deadly when the spotted leopard opened his mouth and let loose a savage roar. Mammoth paws clawed the air as he closed the empty space between them. He could have killed her in a heartbeat, but Kira sensed, sickly, he wanted something from her before he devoured her. Hot, primal arousal drifted over her, under her. In a moment, she would upchuck her breakfast. Retracting his claws, his paw reached out and scraped her cheek, the unadulterated desire emanating from every pore of his furred body.

Before she knew what had happened, the massive paw slid around her neck and thrust her face down to the ground. She heard the sickening sound of leather ripping, felt the cold brush of air whisper against her naked bottom. His breath warm and fetid, he pinned her to the ground with one paw, slid the other beneath her and raised her hips high into the air. Nausea swirled again in her stomach. Something hard pressed against her buttocks―a hot, seeking probe—sending convulsions coursing through her. A heavy stone lay within her grasp. She reached for it, her fingers digging into the earth. The beast purred and ran his sandpaper tongue along her upper spine. With stone in hand, she slammed it against his leg and cringed when the bone snapped and he released a tortured howl. In that infinitesimal moment, she slipped from under him and flipped onto her back.

Icy fingers of fear snaked up her spine as she looked into the beast's eyes. With teeth barred, his enormous head descended until it was inches from her face. More terrifying than anything she had ever seen or imagined, including the wild boars, the masked assassins or the black serpents inhabiting this godforsaken land, she let loose a blood-curdling scream.

Kira closed her eyes and sent a prayer skyward.

AVAILABLE HERE

The prince of Locke Cress has waited for the forest nymph with lavender eyes to come to him. His dreams say it's just a matter of time.

After the serial killer attacks Kira, she wakes in a strange land. Running for her life from wild boars, wizards, and sorcerers, can she trust a Prince who pitches her libido into overdrive? As evil plots unfold, Kira fights for her life . . . and for a love that transcends time and distance.

KINDLE HERE

NOOK HERE

I Give HIS ALONE Ten Stars! #BDSM

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sat, 04 May 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Thank you for stopping by to read about a NEW review I received for my latest Erotic novella HIS ALONE. You can find the review on Skyla's Review Blog Here

"I really enjoyed reading Keta's novella His Alone. Keta has a way of telling a story that leaves you salivating for more.

Cleo and Elliot both have a role to play in their little arrangement. Elliott is the Dom and Cleo is his Sub. They have a standing Friday night arrangement that has been mutually gratifying for the both of them. That is until Cleo comes to realize she needs more from her Dom then he originally offered in their arrangement.

I enjoyed reading about Cleo's struggle to come to terms with what she wants, and how she goes about dealing with the fallout. Cleo's Dom Elliott, had more layers than I was expecting, which was a breath of fresh air to me.

Keta knows how to make these two characters relatable to everyone. On a scale from 1-10 I give His Alone a 10. It was a great fast read with enough kink to leave you satisfied. If you are looking for a HOT, quick read with some substance than His Alone is the novella for you. I encourage everyone adult 18+ to run out and pick yourselves up a copy and learn why, for Cleo, some things are worth taking a chance for."

AVAILABLE HERE

AMAZON KINDLE

NOOK US

KOBO

#Sneakpeeksunday - All About Westerns

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 13:00:00 +0000

TO THIS WEEK'S

S-N-E-A-K P-E-E-K S-U-N-D-A-Y!

Westerns are on parade today. I've loved them since I was small. Some of my favorite television series were RAWHIDE and GUNSMOKE. Did you know Clint Eastwood starred in Rawhide?

Rowdy Yates (Clint Eastwood)

Rawhide was an American Western series starring Eric Fleming and Clint Eastwood that aired for eight seasons on the CBS network on Friday nights, from January 9, 1959 to September 3, 1965, before moving to Tuesday nights from September 14, 1965 until January 4, 1966, with a total of 217 black-and-white episodes. The series was produced and sometimes directed by Charles Marquis Warren, who also produced early episodes of Gunsmoke. Spanning seven and a half years, Rawhide was the fifth-longest-running American television Western, exceeded only by eight years of Wagon Train, nine years of The Virginian, fourteen years of Bonanza, and twenty years of Gunsmoke.

And who can forget James Arness as Marshall Matt Dillon?

Gunsmoke was an American radio and television Western drama series created by director Norman MacDonnell and writer John Meston. The stories took place in and around Dodge City, Kansas, during the settlement of the American West. The radio version ran from 1952 to 1961. Among radio drama enthusiasts "Gunsmoke was routinely placed among the best shows of any kind and any time." The television version ran for 20 seasons from 1955 to 1975.

We better toss Bonanza and Wagon Train into the mix too!

How about you - what's your favorite WESTERN television series? Leave a comment and let us know.

It's only natural I'd want to write westerns so here are a few I'd classify as cowboy romance.

Holding On To Heaven, Book 1

Dark Night of the Moon, Book 2

Available here

HOLDING ON TO HEAVEN - KINDLE

DARK NIGHT OF THE MOON - KINDLE

Long Hard Ride

GAY FICTION

Available Here

LONG HARD RIDE - KINDLE

Thanks so much for stopping by. I hope if you like cowboy romance (Westerns) you'll take a peek at mine!

Billingsgate is This Week's Word - Know What It Means?

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 28 Apr 2013 00:34:00 +0000

WELCOME TO THIS WEEK'S WORD

BILLINGSGATE

MEANING: Coarsely abusive language

EXAMPLE: The intemperate billingsgate to which the staff in customer service were sometimes subjected.

Origin:
Billingsgate, old gate and fish market, London, England

First Known Use: 1652

Synonyms:
Abuse, fulmination, invective, obloquy, scurrility, vitriol, vituperation

Related Words:
Blackguardism; blasphemy, curse, execration, imprecation, malediction, profanity; epithet, insult, put-down, slur; expletive, swearword; aspersion, bad-mouthing, belittlement, disparagement, revilement, vilification; castigation, chastisement, criticism, excoriation, opprobrium, rebuke, reprimand, reproof; broadside, diatribe, harangue, polemic, tirade

Near Antonyms
Acclaim, applause, commendation, praise; compliments, congratulations, endearments, felicitations; adulation, blarney, flattery, overpraise, soft soap

Image Reminder:

Billy Cooper, one of the villains in LAND OF FALLING STARS uses abusive language in his pursuit of Sophia and to fulfill his dream of owning her beloved childhood plantation - Arbor Rose. Here's an excerpt from the book showing Billy's billingsgate:

Silver moonlight slanted across the hard-packed earth surrounding Crenshaw's slave quarters. Close enough to watch the gaiety, yet concealed by gray shadows, Gavin rested a shoulder against a black locust and inhaled the familiar scent of the sweet blossoms. The Crenshaws fled before the battle of Fredricksburg and left their field hands and house servants to fend for themselves. With too much time on their hands and no direction from their prior masters, they seemed content to squander their days in idle sloth, their nights reveling in their new freedom.

His eyes drifted toward a group of women circling the fire. Sophia, caught up in the titillating movements of the Samba-de-Roda, moved with languid grace, her slender body exploding outward from the hips, swaying seductively to the propulsive rhythm of the tom-tom. She'd learned the ancient dance as a child, knew every sensual step better than the back of her hand, but never had she danced with such fervor. It infuriated him. Her long, black hair tumbled about her in wild disarray and her alabaster skin glowed beneath a fine sheen of perspiration. For a brief moment, their eyes met across the campfire and he felt his jaw twitch. God, the woman had bewitched him, irrevocably, undeniably bewitched him.

About to storm forward and yank her from the crowd of black, sleek bodies, three men walked into the clearing. Settling down on their haunches in front of the fire, one lifted a bottle to his lips, took a healthy swig and passed it on. Gavin didn't recognize two of the men, but the third he'd known since childhood─Billy Cooper, a notorious debaucher. Even as a youth, he'd never cared for the boy, had heard the rumors of his forced peccadilloes with young black women. The slaves claimed he raped the offspring of Reuben's field hands before they reached twelve years of age.

The music came to a halt and heads turned toward the trio like sprigs of violets reaching for the sun. Gavin watched Nap and Brister rise from the porch steps and cross the clearing.

"You best be on your way, Massah Cooper," Ol' Nap said, his tone edged with a veiled threat. "This ain't no white folks' country barbecue."

Billy unfurled his scrawny frame from the ground and approached the still dancers. Grabbing Sophia by the arm, he gave a derisive snort. "This looks like white meat to me, and what delectable fare it is."

"Take your hands off me," Sophia spat.

"My, my, Miss Sophronia Whitfield, ever the little bitch." Billy yanked her forward until his mouth was inches from hers. "The elite of southern hospitality have fled, and your precious Jesse is nowhere to be found. Who will save you from the big bad wolf now?"

Brister raised the branch at his side. "We don't want no trouble. You best take your hands off Miss Sophia and mosey on outta here."

Spinning Sophia around until she leaned against him, he asked, "Who's gonna make me?"

A gasp came from Sophia's lips when Gavin walked from the shadows. "I am," he said in a lethal tone. "You heard the man, let her go."

Bolstered by the presence of his mangy sidekicks, Billy's eyes danced with amusement. Gavin assessed the trio. To Billy's left stood a thick brute of a man, to his right a tall, muscular chap. Of the three, Billy posed the lesser threat, yet held the advantage—Sophia and a silver stiletto jutting from his knee-length boot.

"Gavin Langdale." Billy hissed his name. "I heard you were back. Pity, I prayed you'd die like a wretched dog on the battlefield."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm here, in the flesh, and not about to ask again. Let her go."

Billy licked Sophia's ear. "Come and get your whore, Langdale."

From the corner of his eye, he saw the color drain from Sophia's face, her expression a mixture of hope and despair. With Gavin closing the distance between them, Billy shoved Sophia to the ground. Clamoring to her knees, a groan escaped her lips, and all hell broke loose. It came as no surprise to Gavin that Billy faded into the darkness and left his comrades to take him on. The tall one struck first, coming in low on the charge, seeking to take Gavin down at the knees. Gavin locked his hands together into a fist and delivered a sharp, painful blow to the man's head. Crashing to the ground, a deep-bellied groan left the man's lips. Gavin had little time to worry about the first attacker once the tall, muscular deserter tackled him from behind and pitched him through the air. The ground slammed into his chest and knocked the air from his lungs. His attacker stood over him, gloating in his victory.

He shouldn't have done that.

Gavin delivered a vicious kick to the man's shins and rolled to the side as the man tumbled to the ground beside him. Within seconds, they were on their feet, circling each other like rabid dogs. The man charged again with a powerful momentum, oblivious to Gavin's hard fists slamming into his face. Gasping for breath, the deserter staggered back. Pain jarred through Gavin's hand with a final blow to the man's right cheek. His body jerked into a half-spin and he crumbled to the ground.

Gavin clutched his side in an attempt to clear the white lights from behind his lids.

A strangled scream from Sophia roared above the hushed murmurs. "Gavin!"

With a furious roar, Billy charged from the shadows, the silver stiletto flashing beneath a ribbon of moonlight. Gavin met his opponent head-on. Their bodies tumbled to the ground, cart-wheeled head-over-heel, each one fighting to gain the upper hand. The tip of Billy's knife sliced through the skin below Gavin's ribcage. Warm, sticky blood trickled down his belly. An evil glare flashed behind Billy's bespectacled eyes amid whispered scorns from the onlookers. Straddling Gavin, Billy raised the stiletto, intent on burying it in his chest. With every ounce of strength he possessed, Gavin clasped Billy's wrist, flipped him onto his back, and held the cold blade to his neck.

His voice low and menacing, he whispered, "You touch her again I'll come for you in the dark of night." He leaned in, his lips touching Billy's ear. "Think of the sound a pig makes when someone guts him ear to ear." Billy flinched when Gavin applied pressure with the knife. "Tell me you understand . . . say it."

"I understand," Billy said, licking his lips.

AVAILABLE HERE

KINDLE USA

NOOK (Barnes and Noble)

Also Available on NOOK UK and KOBO

This Week's Word Means 'Adventure' - Stop by!

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Mon, 22 Apr 2013 16:47:00 +0000

THIS WEEK'S WORD IS

Gest

Noun [jest]

1. A tale of adventures; especially a romance in verse. 2. Adventure, exploit.

"Let the Queen know of our gests," Antony instructs his men after a hard-won victory on the battlefield in Shakespeare's Antony and Cleopatra. Great deeds and heroic acts have been the stuff of gests since medieval days; the word is more often associated with knights and heroes of old than with modern adventurers. We may not be hearing about many 21st century gests, but we do frequently encounter other relatives of the word.

Gest traces to Latin gestus, the past participle of the verb gerere, which means to wage, to bear, or to carry, among other things. That Latin verb gave us stoutly enduring words like gesture, ingest, jest, register, and suggest.

Image Reminder: GESTURE

Where The Rain Is Made, a paranormal shifter, has many GESTURES and it's definitely an ADVENTURE. The infamous Dog Soldiers often spoke through hand signals, especially in battle. The Dog Soldiers were noted as both highly aggressive and effective combatants. In battle, they would "pin" themselves to a "chosen" piece of ground by a rope or a long breech-clout "rear-apron". Only another Dog Soldier could whip them from their post.

MEKO
Dog Soldier and Time Wanderer from
WHERE THE RAIN IS MADE

Available here

AMAZON KINDLE

BARNES AND NOBLE NOOK

KOBO

Welcome to Sneak Peek Sunday! Excerpt Read . . .

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 21 Apr 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Don't forget to visit all the other FAB authors offering SNEAK PEEKS of their latest releases or current Works In Progress. CLICK HERE. You won't be disappointed!

My Sneak Peek is from a book I loved writing. Gavin and Sophia from LAND OF FALLING STARS are intriguing characters complete with warts and blemishes. Wondering where the title came from? I'll share it with you. Gavin, Sophia and Jesse grew up together. The trio were best friends. Sometimes at night, they'd sit along the banks of the Rappahannock River and watch the stars fall from the sky. Times have changed now - Sophia is betrothed to Jesse when both men go off to fight in the Civil War. One fights for the North, the other the South. Only one returns and he's carrying a horrific secret. When Sophia finds out what really happened on the battlefield, their lives change forever.

SNEAK PEEK

In this scene, Sophia is recalling memories from her childhood while nursing a wounded soldier back to health. Sophia shot the man when he wandered down the hill of Arbor Rose, her beloved home.

Blissful memories crushed Sophia. A fearsome trio, she, Gavin and Jesse had embarked on many a reckless folly, had toppled neighbors' outhouses, and at one time, had turned Mrs. Pritchard's entire field of Guernseys loose and shooed them down Hampton Road. They'd even forged the mighty Rappahannock in a homemade raft, pirate-clad and full of piss and vinegar.

She almost lost her life that day, would have if Gavin hadn't saved her. Jesse took the helm of the rickety craft while Gavin controlled the rear rudder. No one saw the boulder that upended the boat and pitched her into the ashen waters. Weighted down by a pair of Gavin's over-sized trousers and a rusty pistol strapped across her chest, she plummeted into the swirling depths. All thirteen years of her short life flashed behind her lids. Prepared to meet her Maker, she sent a hastily-contrived prayer skyward and then felt a solid tug to her scalp. A strong arm lifted her from the watery grave.

Gavin's calm voice lulled her into obedience. "Quit fighting Sophia or you'll take us both down."

Jesse's frantic cries split the sultry air. "Hang onto her, Gavin! Swim to me, get her onto the raft!"

Jesse dragged her from Gavin's arms, tossed her onto the deck like a gutted catfish, and returned to the helm to steer them to shore. Buckets of sludge spewed from her mouth, and when at last her breathing returned to normal, Gavin's sapphire eyes gazed into hers. Although chilled to the bone, an unexpected heat surged through her.

With trembling lips, and so softly to this day she wondered if she'd imagined it, he whispered, "Forever and always."

Gavin carried her home, snuck her through the kitchen and bounded up the steps to her bedchamber. He set her on her feet and there she stood, shivering and dizzy. She rose up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. "Thank you for saving me, Gavin."

His body shook, whether from emotion or the wet clothes she didn't know. "God strike me dead if I place your life in danger again." He turned then and rushed down the hallway.

Thank you for reading about Land of Falling Stars. If you'd like to read more, the full-length novel is available here:

KINDLE

BARNES AND NOBLE NOOK

KOBO

#samplesaturday - WELCOME! Excerpt Sky Tinted Water

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sat, 20 Apr 2013 13:00:00 +0000

WELCOME TO

#SAMPLESATURDAY

I'm so happy you stopped by to read an excerpt from one of my books. Thank you!

Today's excerpt is from my latest release SKY TINTED WATER, a sweet historical ROMANCE.

About the book: Mystery/Suspense

EXCERPT & SETUP: (In this scene, someone is stalking Rory as she travels through the woods alone.)

The woods loomed ahead. Here, the path would narrow and Rory would be surrounded by clusters of dense hardwood and pines. On the other side of the forest, her sister’s belching chimney would come into view and to the east Jab and Louisa Pearson’s homestead, to the west, Hiram’s. She hadn’t thought of him since her wedding day. Neighbors claimed he’d changed; some said he’d run amok after Jane and Levi died. A pang of sadness cloaked her, but the day was far too beautiful to be bogged down with tragic thoughts.

Upon entering the woods, the familiar call of a whippoorwill competed with the harsh screech of a blue jay. Twisted limbs and branches hugged the man-made trail and thick bracken and underbrush covered the ground around her. Rory stopped Charmer when an eerie stillness descended on the woodland. The chatter of small critters had stopped and the songbirds had ceased their melodic trills. She forced her eyes to scan the trees in all directions, the lump in her throat tightening.

Rory turned a keen ear to her surroundings and concentrated on a sliver of sunlight ahead. Keep moving toward the light. A scream tore through the still woods, or a war-cry. She’d never heard a native prepare for battle, but had read about their nightmarish shrills. Charmer whinnied and tossed her massive head and a sense of danger spiked Rory’s heartbeat. Clutching the reins, she looked down at her white knuckles and caught a flash of movement on her left. Her blood ran cold when she spied a tall, dark form stalking her with the stealth of a panther. God’s nightgown, is it human or beast?

** AVAILABLE HERE **

AMAZON KINDLE

BARNES AND NOBLE NOOK
KOBO

* Watch for SKY DANCE, book 2, coming to a Kindle and Nook near you in June 2013.

To read more fantastic excerpts

GO HERE

This Week's Word - Know What OBVIATE Means?

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Obviate

Verb [AHB-vee-ayt]

To anticipate and prevent (as a situation) or make unnecessary (as an action).

Obviate derives from Late Latin obviare (meaning to meet or withstand) and Latin obviam, which means in the way and is also an ancestor of our adjective obvious.

Obviate has a number of synonyms in English, including prevent, preclude, and avert; all of these words can mean to hinder or stop something. When you prevent or preclude something, you put up an insurmountable obstacle. In addition, preclude often implies that a degree of chance was involved in stopping an event. Obviate generally suggests the use of intelligence or forethought to ward off trouble. Avert always implies that a bad situation has been anticipated and prevented or deflected by the application of immediate and effective means.

Image Reminder:

DUST AND MOONLIGHT

Fantasy Romance

Kira lands in another world while fighting a serial killer. She's tired of running from wild boars, assassins and spotted panthers - not to mention a decadent prince who will stop at nothing to win her heart. Kira puts up an insurmountable object by stealing the talisman that triggered the time travel in a desperate attempt to return to modern time.

"This book blew my mind. can't wait to dive deeper into the world of Keta Diablo."

"A mix of modern eras, time travel and magic, great story line."

Find out what happens . . .

AVAILABLE HERE ($1.99)

KINDLE

NOOK

Famous Lovers in History - Come on Down!

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Mon, 15 Apr 2013 13:00:00 +0000

To Day Two of History's FAMOUS LOVERS. Today we're talking Royalty! They had how many children?? Wow! I guess they were lovers.

Queen Victoria and Prince Albert
This love story is about English royalty who mourned her husband's death for 40 years. Victoria was a lively, cheerful girl, fond of drawing and painting. She ascended the throne of England in 1837 after the death of her uncle, King William IV. In 1840, she married her first cousin, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. While at first Prince Albert was unpopular in some circles because he was German, he came to be admired for his honesty, diligence, and his devotion to his family. The couple had nine children. Victoria loved her husband deeply. She relied on his advice in matters of state, especially in diplomacy.

When Albert died in 1861, Victoria was devastated. She did not appear in public for three years. Her extended seclusion generated considerable public criticism. Several attempts were made on Victoria's life. However, under the influence of Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli, Victoria resumed public life, opening Parliament in 1866. But Victoria never stopped mourning her beloved prince, wearing black until her death in 1901. During her reign, the longest in English history, Britain became a world power on which "the sun never set."

Here's another pair of famous lovers - well . . . famous to me because I spent soooo much time with them while writing HOLDING ON TO HEAVEN and DARK NIGHT OF THE MOON

There's a love triangle taking place between the pages. Twins Lauren and Sage McCain are separated at birth through a freak occurrence. Don't worry though - fate brings them together again 18 years later. In the meantime. Lauren has fallen hard for Creed Gatlin. When he goes off to fight in the war, she discovers she's carrying his child. What's a woman in the mid-1860s supposed to do?? Marry his brother I guess, even though her heart belongs to Creed. Oh, it's a real mess, but if you want to find out what happens, delve into Holding On To Heaven and move on to Dark Night of the Moon - a wold shapeshifter novel and the continuing saga of Lauren and Sage McCain.

READ THE AWESOME REVIEWS!

** AVAILABLE HERE **

Holding On To Heaven

KINDLE

NOOK

Dark Night of the Moon

KINDLE

NOOK

Welcome to PALOMA BECK's Blog Tour - HOLD MY HAND

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sun, 14 Apr 2013 13:00:00 +0000

Hold My Hand

Paloma Beck

Genre: Erotic Contemporary Romance

Elements: BDSM-lite, Consensual Adult Spanking

Release Date: April 1, 2013

Website: http://palomabeck.weebly.com/hold-my-hand.html

Pinterest: http://pinterest.com/palomabeck/hold-my-hand/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/HoldMyHandBook

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/17408218-hold-my-hand

Blurb

Aubrey has been hurt in the past, discouraged and degraded by a heartless father. Still, William sees something in her that won't allow him to walk away. Instantly drawn to her but intuitive enough to take it slowly, he courts her. Then he bargains, persuades and seduces until he ensnares Aubrey with his commanding nature. He’s everything she ever needed but never had the courage to want for. Despite the fight she puts up in accepting William's lifestyle, the bonds he places on Aubrey give her a freedom she desperately needs. Together, they heal old wounds and find their perfect love.

BUY LINKS

SMASHWORDS

AMAZON

Excerpt

Glancing up when I leaned against the doorframe, William motioned for me to come closer, “Come, little elf, come and kneel,” his voice was deep, commanding and beckoned me forward without thought. I’d learned that nickname was only for those moments when I must comply. It had already become my trigger.

I took in his sharp features, still unaccustomed to his beauty. He was unshaven today and the shadow of a dark beard called to me. It was something he didn’t do often so I wanted to touch him. Still sleepy though, I simply allowed myself to follow his instructions. My legs carried me towards him and as I looked at him, I felt my heart accelerate at the possibilities dancing in my head.

The fear of disappointing him was a sudden intrusion. The chatter inside my head changed and I tried to talk over it. You can do this, I told myself. Why couldn’t I be confident, brave and all those things William saw in me? I wanted to be more for him but I was just Aubrey, absolutely no one significant.

I dropped my eyes to the floor so I didn’t have to see how he looked at me. I was sure it would turn to disappointment at some point. That would be a lot of pain to bear but I’d gotten myself in over my head. I tried to be something I’m wasn’t. Silly me, I nearly had myself convinced I could be perfect. I almost believed I could be enough for him. My fingers folded into themselves as I gripped my hands for strength knowing William was watching me.

I stopped when I was between his widened knees and awkwardly kneeled though I’d practiced this move for him several times. I arched my back and placed my hands on my lap with the palms facing up just as he taught me. Then I lowered my eyes and waited in silence.

“Good girl,” William complimented in a soothing, gentle voice. I preened at his praise, unable to stop a smile and felt his eyes on me. Sneaking a look from under my lashes, I saw William’s smile.

Then it faded and it was as if William was waiting for something. “Manners, little elf.”

His stern voice was reminder enough of how I should respond. “Thank you, sir.”

TODAY’s QUESTION

Do you ever fear disappointing the one you love?

About Paloma

Paloma Beck is a Romance Author living a life of contradiction... she's a happily married carpooling mom writing erotic romance. It's almost naughty! Paloma writes in both the Contemporary and Paranormal realms, journaling the stories her characters tell her, and they are anything but PG. She dabbles in vampires, witches, ménage, spanking and bdsm - all in her books, of course.

Paloma believes a daily dose of espresso and a good book make any day better.

Connect with Paloma

WEBSITE http://palomabeck.weebly.com

TUMBLR http://palomabeck.tumblr.com/

BLOG http://RomanceBeckons.blogspot.com

TWITTER https://twitter.com/PalomaBeck

FACEBOOK http://www.facebook.com/PalomaBeckAuthor

PINTEREST http://www.pinterest.com/PalomaBeck

GOODREADS http://www.goodreads.com/PalomaBeck

CONTEST

Paloma is offering a DAILY CONTEST during her release tour to WIN a Hold My Hand ebook. Enter to win each day by answering the QUESTION in the COMMENTS section of that day’s post. The question must be answered to be eligible. The commenter needs to provide their email address and preferred ebook format.

RELEASE TOUR STOPS

Find a listing of all stops at ROMANCE BECKONS

Thanks so much Paloma for visiting Keta's Keep today!

We're wishing you mucho success on your new release.

VISITORS: If you'd like to be eligible to win Paloma's book, please don't forget to answer the question in red above and leave your e-mail address. Paloma will select a winner and notify you by email.

Raven Shifter - Time Travel - Where The Rain Is Made EXCERPT!

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Sat, 13 Apr 2013 18:53:00 +0000

Where The Rain Is Made Paranormal/Shifter, Mystic Time Travel

* Nominated for Bookie Award *
* Book of the Month *
* Top Recommended Read *
* Reviewer's Best Pick *
* 25+ FIVE Star Reviews *

Ethan Gray is a time wanderer and a revered Dog Soldier. The Sacred Council of Arrows sends him back in time to help the beloved Cheyenne. On this journey, he falls in love with a captive the brutal Dog Soldiers have taken during a raid. Decades and distance separate their lives but nothing can dispel their timeless love.

"Praise to Keta Diablo for creating such rich characters that you care about as if they were real! ” 5 Stars
"I absolutely loved this story. It paints a rich and vivid picture of the Dog Soldiers and their way of life." 5 Stars
"This is a fantastic book. Absolutely couldn't put it down." 5 Stars
"A powerful, wonderful book -- paranormal, time-travel, romance, historical and a heartfelt story." 5 Stars
"I love, love, love Where The Rain Is Made. Did I mention I LOVE the book?" 5 Stars

Setup and Excerpt: (Cesca helped her brother Marsh escape from the Dog Soldiers' camp and for that she must be punished. In the following scene, she is staked to the ground for three days as the Sun decides her fate.

Cesca's mind took a wandering path of its own by late afternoon. The relentless heat scorched every inch of her skin, exposed or covered. The all-consuming fire stole the breath from her lungs. She couldn’t recall Strikes First’s words now, but heard her father reading Psalms from the Good Book—prayers, fervent pleadings to the Virgin Mary. Oh, Virgin Immaculate, Mother of God, from your sublime heights, turn your eyes of pity on me.

The crowd had gathered again to see how the white captive fared under the pitiless sun. Choking Wolf stood above her, his face awash with evil. Brown Wing came and went from her side, her whispered words and low chants bringing comfort. She knew the old woman never ventured far from her, but stood guard like a rabid hound, daring anyone to hiss a taunt or pelt her body with dirt. Once or twice Strikes First’s tall, lean frame knelt beside her, his dark eyes filled with pity. He’d rise and face Choking Wolf, the sympathy turning to hatred.

Where is Meko?

She knew in the dark tunnels of her soul, Meko came not from this place they inhabited but from somewhere far away. The stars? The mystical place above the clouds Strikes First spoke of? She didn’t know why he’d appeared in her life, but some numinous presence had placed him in her path. She laughed, the strangled sobs of a woman possessed. Rising up from her belly, the cackling choked her. Oh, the perverse irony! It wasn’t possible their paths had crossed for a timeless moment only to have her die beneath a blazing sun. There had to be more. She couldn’t die now. Her destiny lay with him and it couldn’t be over already. She wouldn’t allow it to happen. She wanted to touch him, taste him one more time.

Psalms Forty rode the crest of her tortured mind. Let them be ashamed and confounded together that seek after my soul to destroy it. Let them be driven backward and put to shame that wish me evil. By early evening, a white-hot fire pressed down on her. Her arms and legs ached as she pulled against the restraints. Choking Wolf had shown no quarter when he bound her to the stakes, so tight she thought her limbs had been stretched to the outer limits of the village. Her jaw ached, as did every bone in her body. She had to will her taut muscles to relax, concentrate on taking slow, deliberate breaths. Liquid flames of heat scorched her skin. Her hair was drenched, and rivulets of sweat ran down her arms and legs, soaking her dress.

WHERE THE RAIN IS MADE

Available Here:

Kindle: http://amzn.to/Zf9m80 / Nook: http://bit.ly/JlBFPa / Kobo: http://bit.ly/PciWn2

If you'd like to know more about my books follow my blog KETA'S KEEP: http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com
Thanks so much for reading about Where The Rain Is Made

Eternal Love Amid War and Death - Famous Lovers

noreply@blogger.com (Keta Diablo) — Thu, 11 Apr 2013 16:33:00 +0000

"Keta Diablo takes the eternal love of a husband and wife and expertly weaves in the horror of war and death."

InD'Tale Magazine Review (Red Crown Review)

SKY TINTED WATER

Read full review HERE

The above passage from my latest review really caught my attention. I wondered how many other historical lovers got caught in the middle of tragic historical events. I did a little research on famous lovers (see below).

Do you believe in true love? How about love-everlasting? In the next week or two, I'll be featuring famous lovers. These love stories might just reinforce your faith in love:

Orpheus and Eurydice
This story is an ancient Greek tale of desperate love. Orpheus fell deeply in love with and married Eurydice, a beautiful nymph. They were very much in love and very happy together. Aristaeus, a Greek god of the land and agriculture, became quite fond of Eurydice, and actively pursued her. While fleeing from Aristaeus, Eurydice ran into a nest of snakes which bit her fatally on her legs. Distraught, Orpheus played such sad songs and sang so mournfully that all the nymphs and gods wept. On their advice, Orpheus traveled to the underworld and by his music softened the hearts of Hades and Persephone (he was the only person ever to do so), who agreed to allow Eurydice to return with him to earth on one condition: he should walk in front of her and not look back until they both had reached the upper world. In his anxiety he forgot that both needed to be in the upper world, and he turned to look at her, and she vanished for the second time, but now forever.

Sky Tinted Water is the love story of Dawson and Rory. Dawson believes in 'love at first sight'. And he intends to prove his theory to Rory.

READ MORE ABOUT SKY TINTED WATER

ON KINDLE