Keta Diablo (edit name/settings)

Keta Diablo lives in the Midwest part of the country on six acres of woodland. When she isn’t writing or gardening, she loves to commune with nature. Keta is a multi-published author in both erotic romance and gay fiction. Her latest paranormal novel, Where The Rain Is Made, has been nominated for a Bookie Award by Authors After Dark in the Best e-novel category. In addition, Keta’s books have received numerous Top Pick, Book of the Month, and Recommended Reads awards from the top professional review sites.

You can find Keta on the Net here:

Keta's Keep Romance Blog, http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com
Keta's Haunt, Author Home, http://www.ketadiablo.com (sign up for her newsletter here)
Facebook fan Page: http://www.facebook.com/KetaDiablo.Author
Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ketadiablo
Gay Fiction Blog, http://thestuffofmythandmen.blogspot.com

Keta's Keep: ketaskeep.blogspot.com

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Happy Fall and Greetings friends,

I entered The Scarlet Boa Contest this year by posting an excerpt to a book I’m writing. If I win, my book will be read by a NY publisher. SQUEE!

GO here: http://www.stellacameron.com/scarletboa2009.html

MY EXCERPT IS NUMBER 90.

Once you go to the link above, scroll down, you'll see two boxes, one says *online submissions*. Click on that and read entry number 90.

The other little white box says *voting*.

So just fill out the form and vote for SCENE 90. Please vote only if you like the excerpt. I don’t want to WIN based on popularity, but on MERIT.

For those who are willing to take time from your very busy lives, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I seldom *troll* for votes, but this one is very important to me and my career.

Hugs and Blessing, Keta

http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com (follow my erotica blog)
http://www.twitter.com/ketadiablo

 
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VOTE NOW IN OCTOBER!
Keta's Crossroads and Crossroads Revisited up for AWARDS.

Elisa Rolle’s Awards:
Mystery/Thriller, Crossroads and Crossroads Revisited

Go here to vote:
elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/805436.html
elisa-rolle.livejournal.com/805272.html

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DECADENT DECEPTIONS' READER'S COMMENT:
Buy here: www.nobleromance.com

"I just finished Decadent Deceptions you sent me to read and review. That book was HOT! You had characters I cared about, bits of humorous lines to balance the suspense and I LOVED it!

I cannot believe you have not been picked up by big time publishers yet! You could rank up there with Emma Holly and others! I am now hooked on your wonderful writing and I can't wait to post the review on this book! Thank you so much for giving me the chance to read and review it!

Blog: My Overstuffed Bookshelf

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Vote for book here On OCTOBER 4th for BEST BOOK OF THE WEEK at: http://www.longandshortreviews.com/WC/recentrev.htmCarnal

CARNAL Cravings by Keta Diablo

http://whippedcream2.blogspot.com/2009/09/carnal-cravings-by-keta-diablo.html?zx=8bc10eb1025efa51

Publisher: Dark Roast Press
Genre: Historical
Length: Short (44 pgs)
Other: M/M, M/M/M, Spanking, BDSM, Forced Seduction
Book/Cherry Rating: 4.5
Review by: Phlox

Craven and his friend Anthony discover they're in over their heads the night they're caught spying on Beresford Hall. But when Craven meets the dark, mysterious Dominic Beresford, he wonders if fate really does step in and take you by surprise when you least expect.

This bright jewel of a short story demonstrates in dramatic terms what happens when you believe you should not have something: you think about it all the time. Taking place during the most sexually repressive era in America, when young men and women were only supposed to think about sex in the context of marriage and then only in terms of procreation, not pleasure, the tale revolves around some of the inevitable ‘underground’ activities inevitable during such repression.

Craven, both desperately ashamed of and driven by his desires, is a thoroughly engaging character, poignant and sympathetic, while Dominic is absolutely delicious as the decadent, powerful lord of the manor. Their meeting and subsequent budding relationship proceeds in a smoothly written, flowing style, intense and heated on both sides.

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SUNDAY, September 20th. SNEAK PEEK SUNDAY AT NOBLE ROMANCE. DECADENT DECEPTIONS - First three Chapters read below: Want More Go Here:
www.nobleromance.com/ItemDisplay.aspx

CHAPTER EXCERPTS:

Chapter One
Spring of 1856
Savannah, Georgia

Seated on the settee in their father’s study, Olivia Breedlove reached for her brother’s hand. "This isn’t a conversation either one of us expected to have so early in our lives, is it?"


"No, dear, but this shouldn’t take long," With a gentle squeeze of her hand, Cain nodded to Graham Wilkerson, the family barrister. "Proceed if you will, Wilkerson."

He adjusted his spectacles, his demeanor grayer than the sky outside the nine-paned window.."In the name of God, Amen. This seventeenth day of July, One Thousand, Eight Hundred and Fifty-Two, I, Thaddeus Breedlove of Savannah, in the State of Georgia, being of sound mind and in consideration of the mortality of my body, knowing that it is appointed to men once to die, do make and ordain this to be my Last Will and Testament. That is to say principally—"

"Forgive my impatience," Cain said, "but since we buried our father two weeks ago, could we dispense with the usual burial delineations?"

"Certainly, Mister Breedlove, I shall go directly to the instructions pertaining to how he wanted his property divided."

A tired smile tugged at Cain’s lips as the man turned the page.

"I give and bequeath to my son, Cain, and to my daughter, Olivia, all my earthly goods, including my manor, L’Esperance, for their own personal use to be divided equally between them in full of their portion."

"Everything seems well and good so far," Cain said with a wink.

Wilkerson looked over his glasses. "There is a codicil to the will, sir."

"A codicil?" Cain asked. "What, exactly, is a codicil?"

"An appendix, if you will, pertaining to Miss Breedlove, sir."

Surprise gave way to alarm. Whatever was about to fall from the man’s lips, Olivia knew it didn’t bode well for her. Cain pinned Wilkerson with a look of bewilderment. "I . . . I see. By all means, continue."

The barrister cleared his throat. "I do hereby make and ordain that my daughter, Olivia, must marry within six months of my death in order to share in her full portion thereof."

Trying her best to keep her voice passive and failing miserably, Olivia said, "What!"

"There is more," the barrister said, swallowing hard. "Further, the husband of her choosing must be free from scandal, financially sound, and a respected member of the gentry."

Olivia pressed her lips together to contain the rage surging up her throat. "He can’t do that!" Looking from Cain to Wilkerson, she whimpered, "Can he?"

"He has left you an out, if I may continue, Miss," the man responded sheepishly.

Her tone belligerent, she replied, "Knowing my father never left a stone unturned, I’m certain he did."

"Well, get on with it, man," Cain said with a full measure of tension in his voice. "What does it say?"

"It states that if Miss Breedlove fails to live up to the codicil, she may remain at L’Esperance for the rest of her natural days and receive an annual stipend from the estate."

"An annual stipend?" she asked, much harsher than she’d intended. "What is the amount of the stipend, Mr. Wilkerson?"

"He did not specify an amount, Miss, but rather stipulated you would be dependent upon your brother’s benevolence."

Biting back an indignant scream, she turned to Cain. "How could he possibly do this to me?"

"Surely there must be some mistake," Cain said with a glance to Wilkerson. "My father loved Olivia with all his heart."

"I assure you, there is no mistake, sir. If I may be so bold, allow me to explain."

Cain threw up his hands. "By all means, I wish someone would."

"Your father and I engaged in several lengthy discussions on the matter. In the event of his untimely death, Miss Breedlove’s future weighed heavily on his mind—more so after your mother died." Wilkerson looked directly at Olivia, smiling benignly, his tone softening. "While he lived, Thaddeus believed he could control your penchant for independence, your headstrong ways." A pause ensued during which Olivia fidgeted in the chair. "He thought this might be an incentive for you to settle down and raise a family of your own," Wilkerson added.

Stunned, she bounded to her feet. "He means to control me from beyond the grave?"

Rising quickly, Cain placed a hand on her forearm. "Let’s take a day or two to digest it. In any event, you needn’t worry about my benevolence."

Sick. She was going to be sick.

Notably discomfited, Wilkerson gathered his papers amid her contemptuous flight across the room to look out the window. "I have the original on file at my office, so I leave you with a copy, sir. Under the circumstances, I believe we should discuss your father’s financial portfolio and bank accounts at a future date."

"Yes, thank you, Wilkerson," Cain said with a nod and ushered him to the door. "I’ll be in touch."

Olivia studied the scenery outside while Wilkerson’s words settled over her like a dark cloud. A man of impeccable repute, her father had arrived in Savannah twenty years ago with her mother, Lizette, a French beauty, and his two children. At age seven, Cain was a handsome little boy, and she, a precocious five-year-old, the apple of her father’s eye.

In the years that followed, the romantic notions of Southern life flourished as Savannah prospered from the cotton trade. Merchants set up shops, warehouses expanded, manufacturing began and trade boomed. Savannah’s wealthy residents built gracious mansions on sprawling acreage outside the city proper, and in this regard, her father would not be outdone. Instead of the fashionable white-columned Greek revival style, Thaddeus and Lizette Breedlove opted for a twenty-four room Italian Renaissance Villa of mammoth proportions. Christened L’Esperance by her mother, the French word for hope, the manor was, indeed, a masterpiece of its time.

Everything changed when her mother, and the premature infant she carried, died in childbirth. Her father, although recently appointed to the District Court of Georgia, did his best to nurture and love his children, despite his long hours away from home. Various and assorted nannies and schoolmasters assisted in raising Thaddeus’s offspring, each and every one handsomely rewarded.

Judge Breedlove, throughout his long and industrious career, focused on one goal and one goal alone—to secure longstanding prosperity for Cain, Olivia, and their future offspring. Having obtained that goal, Olivia believed her father journeyed to his Maker in peace, knowing that even from beyond the grave his dictums would be upheld and enforced.

The soft tread of footsteps broke her reverie. "I know it seems terribly harsh, Liv, but I’m certain he wanted what is best for you." Cain encircled her in his arms.

"Easy for you to say, you’ve chosen a mate and you weren’t on a time limit to do so." Olivia pulled away from him and paced the room.

"I don’t like that look on your face, Liv."

"What look?" she asked, chewing on her lower lip.

"The one that says wheels are turning in your head."

She raised her chin a notch. "Well, you don’t expect me to take this with a grain of salt, do you?"

"Wilkerson will go to the ends of the earth to see Father’s will is followed to the letter," he reminded her.

"Who says I won’t follow it to the letter?"

"Liv, you’re overwrought at the moment. Best to leave it for a day or two, and we’ll discuss it again."

With a derisive snort she said, "Oh, we’ll discuss it again, you can be sure of that. "Don’t think for one minute that I’ll just lay down to his demands and rush into a marriage of misery."

Heaving a long, drawn-out breath, Cain smiled. "I’d expect nothing less from you, my dear, spirited sister." He walked toward her and delivered a kiss to her forehead. "I’ll see you at dinner tonight."

She nodded.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," she replied. "I’ll be in my room, nursing my melancholy, should you need me."

Making a quiet exit, Cain closed the door to the study, leaving Olivia alone with her dismal musings. "Six months," she muttered. "How can one possibly choose a husband in such a short time?" She didn’t want a husband, wasn’t looking for a husband—unless it was the man who sent her heart into cartwheels and left her privates aching with need. She knew all too well, to even think he’d look her way was pointless. To Morgan, she was nothing more than what she’d always been—a pesky friend from childhood.

Straightening her spine, Olivia left her father’s study and sought the comfort of her room. She couldn’t allow this to happen. She had to think of something and soon. By the time she reached the upstairs landing, a plan took root.

"It might work," she mumbled under her breath. "It just might."

Chapter Two

"Are you out of your mind, Liv?"

Aware of the taxing battle ahead of her and the tenuous chance of victory, Olivia steeled herself. "Don’t be such a prude, Cain. Think of it as an adventure."

She had anticipated her brother’s reaction at the announcement of her desire to visit a brothel. The fact that Morgan Gatewood had stopped by this morning would not deter her. In fact, since she’d designed the outlandish scheme to capture his attention, the timing couldn’t have been better.

Cain shook his head and slapped at an annoying fly in his line of vision. "If anyone recognized you, much less heard of your sojourn to L’ Amour Immortelles, you’d be ruined. I’d be ruined!" Petitioning his best friend with an importunate gaze, he said, "Morgan, say something, do something."

Seated across from her on the wide, sweeping veranda with his ankles crossed at the end of his long legs, Morgan personified ambiguity. The man who held her heart in his hands had always seemed darkly remote, more so since returning from abroad six months ago. Dressed in a casual white linen shirt and snug-fitting tan buckskins with knee-length Hessian boots, he appeared exceedingly virile today.

Morgan was six years old when his parents, Rance and Dyann, left Louisiana for Savannah, and soon thereafter purchased the plantation bordering L’Esperance. How devastating it must have been to hear the local gossipmongers drag their son’s name through the mud ten years ago. Her name, too. Morgan had compromised Judge Breedlove’s daughter, they had said, kissed her—among other things—right under the Judge’s nose, in her late mother’s rose garden, no less.

Furious didn’t begin to describe her father’s disposition when he threatened to send her away to Aunt Dottie’s in Chattanooga—permanently—if she even looked at the irresistible man again. The thanks for saving her from total ruination went to Cook. Unfaltering loyalty and determination ranked high on the black woman’s list in regard to the Breedloves, particularly after their mother’s untimely death. Olivia swore the woman had a sixth sense and had made it her life’s mission to ensure her charge arrived at the marriage bed not only virginal, but untarnished.

The scene that followed still had the ability to shred her heart into tattered ribbons. Cook had retrieved her father, and suddenly he appeared, bearing the look of a man on the brink of lunacy. Immediately, a lengthy inquisition in the library took place between Morgan, her father, and Olivia. White-lipped, her father, judge and jury, ran through a gamut of questions. Had Morgan taken liberties with her? Had he comprised her in any manner? Did she remain virginal? Morgan had answered dubiously to the first two questions and yes to the last. The gavel came down, swift and hard. Under no circumstances could they be seen together again. Her father spat the next words, his body going rigid.

"I simply can not allow my daughter to associate with one of Savannah’s notorious voluptuaries." At the time, Olivia didn’t know the meaning of the word, but the tight, white lines around his mouth imbued its inference. "While I find little fault with your gregarious appetite for carnal liaisons, Gatewood," he had added, "I have plans for Olivia, and they do not include marriage to a libertine."

Resembling an iconic statue, Morgan had stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable when her father banged his fist on the desk and delivered his final words through clenched teeth. "Stay away from my daughter, Morgan, or by God, I’ll call for my second and meet you at dawn."

Her father didn’t dislike Morgan Gatewood. In fact, Olivia imagined he admired the man—provided he stayed away from her—far away. She’d never forgotten the encounter with Morgan, the way her lips melded so perfectly with his, the way her skin burned in all the places he’d touched her or the sudden sensation of collapsing under his wicked onslaught. He had never attempted to seek her out again, or kiss her—much to her dismay.

She’d also never forgotten that Morgan—like Cain—was a prolific debaucher of women. The details of their self-indulgent ruttings were delivered straight from the horse’s mouth—her brother’s. Why Cain had shared Morgan’s peccadilloes with her was beyond comprehension. And every sordid aspect stabbed her to the quick.

To Olivia, Morgan was a study in magnificence—albeit a sinfully decadent study. She’d spent hours, awake and asleep, dreaming about his pewter eyes, chameleon-like and bedeviling. Long, midnight hair framed his finely chiseled facial bones and generous, symmetrical mouth, his upper lip in perfect balance with the lower. The stuff of myth and legend, everything about Morgan personified beauty.

Several years ago, Morgan left Savannah, claiming he harbored a desire to see the world and acquaint himself with exotic cultures and distant locales. Olivia was crushed. Now he was back, more alluring than ever, his aloof aura a dismal reminder she meant nothing more to him now than she did then—merely a childhood acquaintance. And Olivia was still crushed. Notoriously close-lipped about his financial affairs and business dealings, he’d shared nothing about what he found or learned on his journey, and Olivia knew better than to ask.

Squinting against the harsh rays of the sun, Morgan graced her with a smile. "Surely there must be another way to secure a suitable husband, Liv."

With a sardonic chuckle, she met his silver eyes. "I think my father made it perfectly clear in his will. The man must be a well-respected member of the gentry with a plump portfolio and bank account to match the Prince of Serbia’s."

The Adonis of her dreams replied, "And you must marry him within six months or forfeit your inheritance?"

"You needn’t gloat, Morgan."

"Histrionics are not your strong suit," Cain said. "Father specified you must marry a man unencumbered by scandal, surrender your wild ways, and hopefully raise a large brood of children."

Sarcasm laced her words. "Or rely on your benevolence for the rest of my natural days."

"It was rather mean-spirited of the old codger," Cain said. "But this plan of yours is utterly ridiculous."

"He left me little choice." She scoffed. "How would you like to have a mere six months to choose a life mate, knowing you might be shackled to a bumbling lummox for the rest of your life?"

"Ah," said Cain. "You wish to sample the goods prior to purchasing, is that it?"

"Heavens no! I don’t wish to sample, merely observe." She wrinkled her nose. "Conjoined at the hip to a man who doesn’t know the first thing about pleasing a woman is unthinkable." Glancing from Cain to Morgan, she continued. "Besides, what I know about amorous escapades you could stash in a thimble. Firsthand, that is."

Cain bounded to his feet. "This is insane. You mean to choose a mate based on his sexual prowess?"

"Partially, yes," she said. "I know only what you have shared with me about your self-indulgent romps, and how can I possibly capture a man’s heart, much less hold it, if I know nothing about his likes or dislikes?"

Morgan laughed. "Trust me, men have few dislikes in the department of fuck—fornication."

Rising from the chair, she said, "You’re such a cold-hearted toad. You don’t give a fig whether or not the woman is pleasured, but think only of your own gratification." Her spiteful gaze intensified. "Precisely the reason I mean to choose my own lover, preferably one who cares about my—"

"Licentious cravings?" Morgan infused swiftly.

She walked toward him and didn’t stop until his sinfully handsome face loomed inches before hers. "You think to mortify me, Morgan, harangue me into giving up this quest?"

Happy for once she’d shown him his place, her small victory faded in light of his arrogant retort. "On the contrary, have at it, Olivia." He hesitated. "And don’t ever presume to know what I do or don’t do in the bedchamber."

Wicked. She despised the imagery her brain conjured from that one simple word, and an act from the Holy Ghost couldn’t eradicate the erotic scenes. Blast the man.

"Should you find a suitable candidate by merely observing," Cain said with a lift of his shoulders. "What then?"

"Persuade him, subtly of course, to ask for my hand." She resumed her seat, continuing on a drawn out sigh. "Then we’ll marry the same day you and Lark take your vows, dear brother, and I will be wealthy in my own right."

Morgan’s heavy-lidded glance hitched her breath. "What makes you think you’ll find your prince wenching at L’ Amour Immortelles?"

"If you and Cain cut your teeth wenching there, why wouldn’t I think the majority of your blueblood friends also patronize the establishment?" Without waiting for a reply, she put a finger to the corner of her mouth. "What does L’ Amour Immortelles mean, anyway?"

"It’s French for Love Everlasting," Morgan replied, low-voiced.

"We’re getting off the subject." Cain wagged a finger in her direction.
"You have a particular chap in mind, don’t you?"

Morgan’s head shot up so fast it startled her.

"No one in particular," she managed to say. "I won’t know until I see him . . . engaged."

"Darling sister, you could have your choice of men. Tell me who you have in mind, and I’m certain he’ll do cartwheels once he learns of his good fortune."

"You’re not listening," she said. "He could be a Greek God in looks and stature, but that tells me nothing about his competence or ineptitude, does it?" Cain and Morgan exchanged glances while she tapped her foot against the smooth, flat stones of the veranda. She paused, and then asked, "Are you going to arrange it or must I visit L’ Amour Immortelle’s unannounced and request a meeting with the proprietor on my own?"

Cain’s dark eyes searched her face. "My God, you’re perfectly serious!"

"Quite."

He tossed his hands up and looked at his friend.

"I’ll make the necessary inquiries," Morgan said dryly. "Under one condition."

Her chin jutted outward. "What condition?"

"You’ll observe and nothing more." Topping off his words, he said, "I want your word you won’t indulge in or act on impetuous fantasies."

"But . . . ."

"You heard him," Cain said, hands on hips. "You’re not to speak a word of this to anyone, including my fiancé. I’ll go along with this ill-fated scheme, but you must agree to be under Morgan’s tutelage in all respects. He’ll make the arrangements; you’ll appear incognito, and watch, only."

Her heart raced. She knew all about peep rooms—from Cain and Morgan, of course—had read numerous accounts about voyeurs and now she was about to join their ranks. She’d braced for a horrendous fight, but now that victory was within her grasp, ripples of excitement coursed through her.

With a cross of her heart, she said, "Done. When will you speak to the proprietor and confirm a date, Morgan?"

He rose from the chair with the loose-limbed agility of a jungle cat, his gaze raking her head to toe. "I plan to visit the establishment tonight. I’ll speak to Madame Rousseau and orchestrate an appointment within the week."

"Madame Rousseau. Is she the owner?"

"No," Morgan said. "She manages the brothel."

A commotion near the French doors drew their attention. Cain’s fiancée, Lark Hudson, glided onto the porch, her honey-colored hair, interspersed with pale white kisses from the sun, cascaded down her back in soft curls. Cornflower blue eyes sparkled like shiny gems against her flawless, translucent skin. A frequent visitor at L’Esperance, she and Olivia had become fast friends.

His composure regained, Cain rushed to Lark’s side as she gave each of them a long, inquiring look. "Have I intruded, darling?" she asked, her tone sweeter than a songbird’s, reminding Olivia how well her name suited her.

"Not at all, love. In fact, we are discussing the wedding."

Lark sketched a warm smile. "Speaking of which, you promised to drive me into Savannah to Miss Brouillard’s Dress Shoppe this afternoon."

"I haven’t forgotten," he said with a wink. "Care to join us, Liv?"

Her head still reeling from the previous conversation, she replied, "No, but thank you for asking. I think I’ll take Sinbad out for a ride."

Cain leaned in and kissed her cheek. "See you at dinner tonight."

With a ghost of a smile, Morgan bowed at the waist, his erotic mouth turning Olivia’s knees to marmalade. Sweeping past her, he paused and whispered in her ear, "I’ll be in touch soon."

Chills rustled down her spine. Beneath that seductive cadence dwelt a rock-hard body, and she wanted to touch it, taste it, feel it slamming into her.

They walked from the veranda, and Olivia closed her eyes against the lurid images Morgan’s presence summoned.

Good God, what in the world have I gotten myself into?

* * * * *
Morgan mounted Valor, chasing clouds across the countryside as if the hounds of hell nipped at the steed’s heels. Damn the little termagant! So deeply into carnal thoughts of her, he still hadn’t figured out how she had maneuvered him into this ridiculous sham. He should have stayed in France, or at the very least stayed away from L’Esperance and the bewitching Olivia Breedlove.


Cursed, the little voice in his head screamed, from the moment you kissed the dark-haired enchantress ten years ago. He’d tried everything imaginable to rid himself of this insatiable lust for her, bedded countless women to dispel her from his heart, and the sum total of his endeavors amounted to failure. On the cusp of declaring his love, assuming the persona of a jackass, he’d fled to France three years ago. Even thousands of miles had failed to dilute the all-encompassing hunger that consumed him every time the woman stood within striking distance. Now, Thaddeus was dead, rendered incapable of commanding him to stay away from his virginal daughter. And stay away from her he would not.


He had only to close his eyes and she found him, flaunting that rich, sable hair streaked with ribbons of amber. Resembling a thick veil of silk, it framed her elfin face in reckless abandon and tumbled down her back in a waterfall of sun-kissed glory. Her exotic green eyes beckoned him to kiss her exquisite, cherry-blossom lips and run his hands across her pearlescent skin until she writhed beneath him. High and well-defined, her cheekbones framed her small, slender nose. Perfection didn’t begin to describe Olivia’s beauty. Aside from her physical allure, something about her beguiled him. Hell, everything about her beguiled him. Doomed like Tristan sailing the seas forever in search of Isolde, Morgan had accepted his penance for loving Olivia years ago.


He did all he could do to keep his expression placid, his demeanor cool, when she announced this morning she had every intention of visiting L’ Amour Immortelles to expand her knowledge—or lack thereof—on fornication. His silent applause for her audacity faded amid the hard, cold facts—if one desired to expand their carnal curriculum vitae, including fucking, one only had to visit his place.


Even Cain had no idea he had purchased L’ Amour Immortelles the year before he sailed abroad and had surrendered it to Madame Rousseau’s fastidious management until he returned. He had hoped to keep it confidential, like all his business ventures. The brothel turned a nice profit, affording him the finer niceties of life, and now the waspish she-cat was about to invade his private domain. He couldn’t allow her or Cain to discover he owned the brothel, that he was the very man with whom she demanded an audience. He would speak with Madame Rousseau immediately and cajole her into playing along with this masquerade. The woman could not, under any circumstances, disclose his identity, reveal to Liv that he’d gone beyond frequenting the finest brothel in Savannah, but had actually purchased it.


Lassoed like a wild mustang by Liv’s heartfelt pleadings and cat-like eyes, he seemed incapable of refusing her request to select a husband of her choosing, one who knew what he was about in the bedchamber. Didn’t he desire the same, hope against hope he wouldn’t wake up one day shackled to a woman who swept into a faint at the sight of a man’s cock? By the time Cain had taken leave of his senses and agreed to assist her, he had little choice but to act the cool goose and acquiesce to the debacle. Christ! And he’d agreed to tutor her, would be forced to listen to lurid descriptions of what she’d observed during her visits, and no doubt expected to offer commentary.


He slowed Valor to a walk and wondered whose heart pounded faster, his or the stallion’s. He despised how he lusted after the woman, had lusted after her for years. A distant memory of the very first time—the only time—he held her luscious body in his arms crept from the recesses of his brain. The August sky hung low and hot the day he and Cain grabbed their poles and headed for the river. Suddenly, Liv strolled up behind them on the path, uninvited, but not unwelcome, particularly after she announced Cook had packed chicken and biscuits in the basket she carried.


What possessed her to walk into the swift current soon after they dropped their lines, only a fool could reckon.


Cain called out with a stern admonishment to extricate her foolish ass immediately, but his request had little effect. Morgan’s stomach had lurched, and a prickling at the nape of his neck ran the length of his spine. Strange, even today he remembered the minute incidentals, and terror gripped him all over again.


She’d waved to them, her willowy body teetering against the ashen waters licking about her thighs. Like a leaf caught up in an eddy, she toppled, only her flailing arms visible above the water. From the bank, he dropped the pole and dove in, horror freezing his heart. He would never reach her, would never find her in the murky shadows of death.


Cain’s voice had reached his ears through a waterfall of anguish and hopelessness. "Save her, Morgan, save her!"


Fetid water sucked him under amid a whirling cloud of sludge. He searched, his eyes burning, his arms thrashing wildly about him. His hand found a clump of her long hair, and he dragged her to the surface, a thankful prayer and a curse leaving his lips simultaneously. She fought against him like a demon possessed as he pulled her against his chest.


"Yield!" he’d screamed. "Or you’ll drown us both." His legs pushed against the raging current, his numb arm doing its best to propel them toward shore.


Long minutes later, with her gasping and choking, he’d grabbed a hold of her trousers with one hand and the same lock of hair with the other and heaved her onto the muddy bank.


Out of breath and sorely out of temper, he’d loomed over her quaking body. "Are you utterly insane?"


Her hair, dark with muck, her emerald eyes pooled with tears, she’d said only one word. "Morgan."


His damp fingers whispered over her cheek, stroking, caressing, and he knew, from that moment on, that he could never dispel her from his soul. The bond between them could never be severed; the mind-numbing feeling of almost losing her would be seared into his brain for all eternity. He quit his dream-like musings and pondered more pressing matters, like how in the hell would he manage watching that sensual mouth of hers describe every decadent detail of what she’d witnessed? And she would. Unabashedly candid, Olivia Breedlove possessed a devil-may-care attitude about anything and everything in her life. The woman didn’t know the meaning of refined modification when it came to speaking her mind. She said whatever flew into that beautiful head, to whomever she pleased, and the hell with propriety. Her father had known it, thus the reason he’d stipulated in his will it was time for her to settle down with a respected member of the gentry. Thaddeus hadn’t been able to tame her in life, but by God, he’d do his best in death.


In the next moment, Morgan physically withered sitting atop the horse. What if she found what she sought, the man who could deliver the heart-pounding mating her young, supple body so desperately craved? What would he do then? It would be too late for him to tell her he loved her, had loved her from the moment he’d kissed her on that moonlit night so many years ago. He’d returned from abroad to profess his undying love, get down on his knees if need be and admit that every time he looked at her, something hot and achy surged up his chest until he thought he might choke. Now she’d made it perfectly clear she was on the prowl for a husband and he was not in the running.


He had to get a hold of himself. Never had he allowed the softer sex to penetrate his calm demeanor, but the die was cast, and he no longer had a choice in the matter. Forced to go along with this charade, he prayed she wouldn’t find what she desperately hungered for at L’Amour Immortelles. If she did, he’d have to find a way to thwart it.


Or return to France and wallow in his misery forever.


He dug his heels into Valor. The sooner he had a little tête-á-tête with Madame Rousseau, the better.




Chapter Three




The following morning, Morgan handed off the reins to a livery attendant and glanced skyward, the oppressive heat enveloping him like steam from a Turkish bath.


One of the many black servants at L’Esperance met him on the porch. "If ya is lookin’ for Miss Olivia, she is in dah garden," the woman said and nodded to the right.


Morgan peered between the branches of a hickory. Dressed in a fashionable lavender gown and displaying an ample amount of cleavage, Olivia sat on a bench near her mother’s prized roses, reading. He closed his eyes against the beauty that stopped men in their tracks, him among them. A familiar piquant mixture of jasmine and white tea blossoms wafted around him, more potent than poisonous vapors infused by a viper’s fangs. Unbeknown to the confounded woman, her secret weapon brought him to his knees after one teensy whiff.


An overt clearing of his throat prompted her to place the book in her lap, fold her slender hands and look up at him. "Morgan, I can only assume you’ve brought me good news."


He had a powerful urge to slap that smug look from her face. "Indeed, I have fulfilled my obligation and met with Madame Rousseau."


Her eyes grew wide. "And?"


"Everything is arranged. I insist on accompanying you the first time."


"The first time?" She blinked and came to her feet slowly while placing the book on the bench. "Does that mean you’ve scheduled more than one appointment?"


With acid amusement he said, "One can hardly choose a husband after one showing. I assumed—"


She stepped toward him with a devastating smile. "I knew I could count on you, knew you’d understand."


Loath to admit it, he did empathize. Placed in her situation, he’d insist on doing the same, but it irked him beyond imagination that in two days those angelic eyes would feast upon strangers fornicating. Among other things.


He bowed slightly, straightened and waited for her to speak again.


"I’m forever in your debt, eternally grateful."


Thankfully, his breathing returned to normal and he managed to respond. "Yes, well, think nothing of it. How do you plan to disguise yourself?"


"Oh," she said. "That’s the corker! Cain suggested I attire myself in men’s clothing, and I couldn’t agree more. My best chance of not being recognized is to wear men’s attire." Acknowledging the little choking noise from his throat, she looked at him sharply. "Are you all right, Morgan? What’s the matter, don’t you think it’s a splendid idea?"


How could he tell her it had nothing to do with what she would wear, but rather the sudden impending image of her peering through that little peephole? He rocked back on his heels and said, "Leave it to our little ingenious Cain."


"What day will you arrive to escort me?"


"Friday evening, say, nine o’clock?"


An instant blush found her cheeks, and he had the strange feeling she had conjured an erotic image in her mind. "Will you be staying with me the entire time or . . . ?"


"No," he said with a knife-edged finality. "I’ll escort you to Madame Rousseau’s suite, and she’ll manage the rest."


"You told her to expect a woman?"


He ground the words out. "Yes, she will expect a woman of the gentry who desires to observe an amorous liaison."


Her tone grateful she asked, "What did it cost, Morgan? You need only tell me what you had to pay, and I’ll reimburse you on Friday."


He dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. He didn’t want her damn money; if she ever found out it fattened his pocketbook, there’d be hell to pay.


"Oh no you don’t, dear friend. I can’t possibly allow you to pay for my shameless inquisitiveness."


Dear friend? Wielding a dull knife to cut out his heart to serve it à la friteuse would have sufficed. "Is that what you call it? Your inquisitiveness? I thought it fell more along the lines of depravity."


Green eyes narrowed. "You don’t approve, after all?"


With another wave of his hand, he forged ahead. "Forget it, it doesn’t matter whether I approve or not. I gave my word to Cain I’d see it through to the end whether or not you’re shocked out of your pristine bloomers."


Her delicate chin tilted up. "I assure you, I’ve seen it all."


"Is that so? Where?"


"Books. You do remember my father has an extensive library, including a vast collection of nude pictorials . . . French and Italian."


With a sick knot in his stomach, he met her gaze squarely. "One hundred dollars."


"What?"


"One hundred dollars to observe."


"That’s exorbitant! What does it actually cost to—?"


"Less than it costs to engage in voyeurism, and that should be of little significance since you don’t plan to offer yourself up as a fille de joie. Or do you?"


"Of course not!" she replied indignantly and in the next breath, "What did you call them?"


"A prostitute."


"Yes, I know that, but did you use a French term?"


He could have kicked himself for overlooking her uncanny perception, and why did he get the feeling pistons and pulleys worked overtime in that pretty little head as she scrutinized him? "About the money . . . ."


"I’ll have it on Friday."


Her eyes warned him another question from that kissable mouth struggled for release. "What? You’ll burst if you don’t spit it out."


"Will they . . . will the people in the room know I’m, well, you know, watching?"


"Do you want them to?"


She clutched her throat. "Most certainly not, but I can’t help but wonder if that is an option."


"It is, but that will cost another fifty dollars." He studied her intently. "Should I arrange that, too?"


"No, no, thank you. I’d prefer—"


"To spy on people while they’re rutting."


A little gasp spewed from her throat, but like the Olivia he knew, she recovered quickly. With a bold step forward, she threw her arms about his neck and kissed him, without warning, without pretense. His head swam. Christ, those sweet, sensual lips melded into his passionately, as if they had done this a thousand times in the past, but in reality, it had only been once—a lifetime ago. She clung to him and pressed her firm, ripe body against him. His fingers splayed and tangled in her wild mane as he drew her deeper into the kiss.


On and on it went, her sweet breath mingling with his, their tongues entwined. Amid the little soft moans from the back of her throat, his resolve disintegrated, his kiss reaching a demanding plateau. Still she did nothing to stop him.


Overcome by an irresistible urge to feel her beneath him, he backed her toward the bench, intent on taking her here, now, on that hard, cold surface or the ground, he didn’t care which. The rigid length of his cock pulsated between them. More than anything in the world, he wanted to shove it into her . . . into every orifice imaginable.


The soft echo of a woman’s voice filtered through the labyrinth of trellises and twisted vines. "Liv, darling, where are you?"


Olivia jerked from his arms and staggered back, her voice hoarse. "Oh, forgive me, I shouldn’t have . . . ."


"Olivia!"


"Here, Lark, near the roses." She buffed her lips with her fingers and then straightened her dress. "You must leave quickly," she said, pointing toward a narrow path. "Please, Morgan, Lark will suspect something if she sees you."


Caught up in the moment, he took her chin in his hand with only a vague awareness of the robin’s twill overhead, the rustle of nearby branches, and the scattered gravel crunching beneath someone’s feet. "The next time you start something with me, be prepared to have it finished."


The sound of footsteps heightened with every passing second. "Please," she said, her voice degenerating to a nervous twitter. "I’ll expect you on Friday at nine o’clock."


Releasing her reluctantly, he turned and walked from the garden.




* * * * *




Olivia had little time to collect herself before Lark entered the inner sanctuary of the garden. Her soon-to-be-sister-in-law had the most befuddled expression on her face.


"Who was that?" She pointed to a fleeting image of Morgan’s back disappearing behind a six-foot hedge.


Feigning ignorance, Olivia replied, "Who? Where?"


"Liv, dear, I know, at times, you think me quite dense, but I recognize broad shoulders when I see them." She scanned Olivia from head to toe. "Oh, dear me, look at your dress. Have you been pruning rose bushes? Don’t we have servants to take care of that sort of . . . ?"


"I don’t believe you are dense, Lark, and no, I wasn’t pruning rose bushes."


"I’m happy to hear both."


"Both what?"


"That you weren’t pruning roses in that lovely dress and that you don’t find me dense." She looked over her nose, her voice perfectly calm. "For example, I’ve known for years that your brother is a notorious rogue and has been tumbling women since early puberty, and . . . ."


"And what?"


"I’m eternally grateful for it."


"You are?"


"Of course," Lark said flippantly. "I’ll soon be wedded to a man who comes to my bed with more experience than Casanova."


"Lark!"


She lifted her chin. "What? Women should not enjoy copulation, experience sexual gratification?"


"Yes, yes, they should," Olivia said. "I just wasn’t sure you also believed they should."


A sly smile formed her lips. "Also, Liv?"


"That’s not fair, you tricked me!"


"And you’re avoiding the question. Now," she asked again, tilting her head toward the pebbled walkway, "since there are few stallions taller than an oak and the color of pine pitch, I’m certain I spied Valor near the stables as we rode in." Lark tapped her foot against the paved rock. "I swear, I don’t know what has gotten into everyone. I sense something is amiss, but questioning your brother is pointless."


"Is it? Well, that’s because nothing is amiss, Lark. You have much to occupy your thoughts these days so please don’t worry your pretty little head about insignificant issues."


"Insignificant issues? What does that mean, and was that, or was that not, Morgan rushing from the garden like a nest of hornets were on the attack?"


"Yes," she replied sheepishly. "It was Morgan. He stopped by looking for Cain and found me instead." Olivia shrugged and hoped the lie would pacify her.


"I find that quite strange. We met him in town an hour ago, and he said nothing about stopping by." Lark leaned forward and studied her intently, the puzzled expression returning. "Your face is chafed, and your lips are swollen."


Olivia’s hands flew to her mouth as she slouched onto the bench. "All right, I’m not very good at lying." She blew a lock of hair from her forehead and confessed. "It was Morgan and I . . . I kissed him."


A giggle flew from Lark’s lips. "You did?"


She nodded.


"Well?"


"Well, what?"


"After nursing feelings for him for ten years, what was it like?"


Olivia exhaled a drawn out sigh. "Breathless, utterly breathless, like the first time." Then she frowned. "Oh, Lark, there is a mystery, a wonder and a wildness about the man. I can no longer think straight when Morgan comes around, and the worst of it is, I’m nothing more to him than a childhood friend."


Lark settled onto the bench beside her and took her hand. "Trust me, dear, the look in Morgan’s eyes is anything but friendly when you enter a room."


Olivia shifted until their eyes met. "If only that were true."


Lark kissed her on the forehead. "It’s true."


"Did Cain ever tell you about the time Morgan saved my life?"


Lark shook her head. "What happened?"


"I was twelve, Morgan fourteen. Foolishly, I decided to cool off in the river while he and Cain fished on shore. The current took me under faster than a hoot owl can blink. Hopelessly, I struggled, knowing, remotely, my efforts were futile. Out of nowhere, Morgan appeared, and his strong arms pulled me from my watery grave. I don’t remember much after that, except for the look in his eyes."


"What look?"


"He hovered over me while I lay sprawled in the mud. A mixture of anguish, fear, and something I didn’t recognize at the time lurked in those half-crazed silver eyes. I loved him at that moment and realized I would until the day I died. Years later, the night he almost ruined me in Mother’s garden, I saw the same look in his eyes, minus the fear and anguish."


"Love," Lark said. "Didn’t I tell you? Now the question is, what does he plan to do about it?" With a mischievous glint in her blue eyes, she pulled back. "More to the point, you have less than six months to bring him around, so what are you going to do about it?"


Olivia chewed on her finger. "I’m working on that."


Lark snapped her fingers. "I knew it! My intuition has never failed me. Well whatever it is, don’t do anything to compromise your reputation until he asks for your hand."


If she only knew. "My reputation is the least of my worries right now, thanks to Father. Curse the man and his blasted will."


"He wanted only what was best for you," Lark said. "Although I do admit, he had a queer sense of practicality—forcing you to choose a mate within six months or lose your inheritance." With a finger to the corner of her lips, she asked, "Did you remind Morgan about the ball next week at L’Esperance?"


"It completely escaped me."


"No matter, I’ll tell Cain to remind him."


As if Lark had mentally summoned him, Cain appeared, his brow furrowed. "What in the world’s taken hold of Morgan? I called out to him, but he mounted that monstrous stallion and stormed off. Did he have an encounter with a disgruntled badger?"


Exchanging glances, Olivia and Lark broke into laughter. "I would imagine about now," Lark said, "he wishes he had."


Her brother shot her a concerned look. "Apparently, it’s a private joke and I’m to be kept in suspense." He craned his neck toward the manor. "I’ve been sent to retrieve you; Cook is ready to serve lunch."


They rose from the bench and followed Cain back to the manor, Lark’s lips pinched against laughter and Olivia doing her best to reign in her battered emotions.

* * *
On Monday, for the first time, HSN (HOME SHOPPING NETWORK)will be offering up copies of eight selected romance novels, one of which, LAND OF FALLING STARS, was penned by Keta Diablo. This is the Home Shopping Network's first foray into selling novels.

The segments, themed “Escape With Romance,” will appear twice Monday and again early Tuesday morning, according to the schedule on the show's site, http://electronics.hsn.com/escape-with-romance-exclusive-6-book-collection_p-5700283_xp.aspx?cm_mmc=rss*Browse*2*NA 

Each segment is an hour long. The first, from 8-9 a.m. on September 14th will feature Holly Schmidt from Ravenous Romance, a Beverly, Mass.-based publishing house. The show returns in the 4-5 p.m. timeslot that afternoon, and then, for the insomniac audience, airs again from 3-4 a.m. Tuesday.

From the HSN Web Site:
"Voyage to a distant land where fantasy and passion ignite. The Escape with Romance Exclusive 6-Book Collection is a fascinating compilation of stories filled with infatuation, excitement and of course, love. These tales will evoke the internal fires that burn deep within us all. Choose from the 3 collections; the romantically nostalgic Historical genre, the futuristic and supernatural of the Paranormal genre, or the modern-day heroines of the Contemporary genre. Plus, if you can't decide choose the Sampler, which includes 2 books from every genre, so you can get a little bit of it all. Suddenly, reading just got a lot more interesting."

Escape with Romance Exclusive 6-Book Collection Features: Historical Genre, Paranormal Genre, Contemporary Genre, and Sample Package. Land of Falling Stars will be included in BOTH the Historical and the Sample Packages.

Historical Package:
"Land of Falling Stars" by Keta Diablo
"Force My Hand" by Em Brown
"Kiss of Scandal" by Isabel Roman
"The Mercenary Bride" by Jamaica Layne
"Dark Desires of the Druids #1" by Isabel Roman
"The American Heiress" by Roxanne Dent

Sample Package:
"Land of Falling Stars" by Keta Diablo
"Kiss of Scandal" by Isabel Roman
"Stilettos, Inc." by Lexi Ryan
"Twilights Edge" by Jo Atkinson
"Ripping the Bodice" by Inara Lavey
"Nashville Heat" by Bethany Michaels

I'm really thrilled about this new venture and offer my heartfelt thanks to all the wonderful readers and reviewers who helped maked LOFS such a success this past year. Please celebrate with me and tune into "ESCAPE WITH ROMANCE" on the HSN Network Monday and Tuesday.

MORE INFORMATION ABOUT THE BOOKS/PACKAGES HERE: http://electronics.hsn.com/escape-with-romance-exclusive-6-book-collection_p-5700283_xp.aspx?cm_mmc=rss*Browse*2*NA

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http://thefleam.blogspot.com/2009/08/boys-of-bite-gay-vampire-anthology.html

SCORE: 4/5
BOYS OF THE BITE: A GAY VAMPIRE ANTHOLOGY Cecilia Tan (ed)
This is an anthology by new e-publisher Ravenous Romance. I accepted a review copy based largely on the strength of Tan's reputation as an editor. As is often the case with anthologies, Boys of the Bite includes stories of mixed tone and quality.

Wanting Having Needing by R R Angell has excellent contemporary world building and a believable protagonist, but the plot--such as it is--depends on a twist that is broadcast well in advance.

To Be Beloved by Pepper Espinoza is a Dracula-esque historical story with a very appealing first-person protagonist. This story updates the Victorian approach by more strongly evoking the the morbid pleasures writers of that time could only elude to--as the victim sinking all to willingly into the the fatal embrace fo a vampire.This story is exquisitely well written but without the moralist ending that would once have resolved the tale it feels rather unfinished.

Lost in Translation by Tammy Jo Eckhart is well written but essentially just a story of a modern surfer becoming the slave of a vampire scholar, which is not the sort of story I enjoy.

The Love of a Faithful Servant by Teresa Noelle Roberts is again wonderfully written but basically a 'being made into a vamp' story. At this point I am beginning to wonder why so many authors write a wonderful vignette and so few produce a fully plotted (beginning-middle-end) short story.

The Cold Color of the Heart by Eric Del Carlo and Amber Jane Dodd is a emo first love story with a well-imagined vampiric twist.

The Sin Eater's Prince by Keta Diablo is another first time story combined with strong high fantasy world building.

The Conservative Dark by Connor McKay is yet another first time story with the standard OMG-what-if-I-hurt-my-mortal-lover plot.

The Last Brother by Ken Panadero describes a high fantasy order of vampire monks, but is also yet another falling in love story. I support this is a romance publisher, but in the absence of other plots the stories are starting to feel monotonous. Each is in a different world, a different culture, a different kind of vampire, a different kind of man, and a different writing style, and yet.... it is not just that each story is a vampire and a human, but the human is a nervous virgin etc. Perhaps I am too demanding having been raised on classic collections of sci fi short stories which each made a different kind of conceptual point rather than the same basic point ('love redeems') in different ways.

The Devil's Half Acre by Ryan Field introduces a world weary vampire moving into a town, segues to a pick up and sex scene and then ends. Of all those stories it has some of the best erotic content but is the furthest from really being a fully realised story.

VAMMP: Conquerring Dissension by Bryl R Tyne was a story I found very hard to follow and make sense of. The editing also seemed a little off; there were many awkwardly constructed sentences. For example: "Alan sensed the scrutiny tossed at his still-booted feet and warmth flushed his face." And only in this story did the intricate world building seem really rather supernumerary to the plot of (surprise surprise) lust and longing finally requited (the ol' destined life mates thang).

Based on her previous anthologies I know Tan knows good writing when she sees it. However I think the last story ends this collection on a low note. The world building the writing style of each writer is excellent and idiosyncratic, but the old vampire and M/M tropes become repetitious by the end. It might be best read in snatches rather than in one sitting. A reader who has read these two genres less exhaustively might not feel the same ennui.

Overall I would rate Boys of the Bite well worth the price of entry, and a nice sampler of gay erotic romance stories that put a twist in the old tropes but never escapes or subverts them. I would certainly be interested in reading longer works by most of the authors included in this collection.

MANIC READERS REVIEW
http://manicreaders.com/index.cfm?disp=reviews&bookid=4285
4.5 Stars!
Spank Me Twice
Noble Romance
Ticket to a Spanking by Jude Mason

When Julia and her best friend Chris find a speeding ticket belonging to Julia’s husband, Ken, she figures the best way to make him pay for keeping it from her is a spanking. However, Chris has always been interested in how Julia “punishes” Ken but she never expects to have a front row seat to it. While Ken is embarrassed and shocked to be receiving his spanking in front of another woman, it’s kind of a turn on as well. Will all three find their pleasure or be left out in the cold?

YUM! I love Jude’s books, especially her spanking stories. They’re so original and sexy. I loved Chris the most in Ticket to a Spanking—she’s such a newbie to the lifestyle and she was depicted brilliantly. This is a very hot and heavy story and sure to rev your engines.

Rein Me In by Amber Skyze

When Delia overspends on her credit card, her husband is understandably upset. Poor Delia thinks he’s going to leave her though, and she’ll do anything to make sure that doesn’t happen—even take a spanking for her naughty behavior. No cajoling on her part is going to get her free of his “lesson in overspending.”

Rein Me In is a ton of fun. I loved Scott (Delia’s husband). He’s gorgeous and dominant. He’s determined to get his wife to lay off shopping and the only way he can get her to pay attention is by teaching her a lesson. The spankings are off the charts hot and although I felt a little bad for Delia I know she enjoyed it just as much.

Road Trip by Tara S. Nichols

While on a road trip, Mona can’t keep her horniness in check. Anytime she’s in the car her needs just ratchet out of control. Her boyfriend Jess knows it drives her wild, but he’s holding back. Will he be able to resist her the entire trip, or will her sensual teasing be too much to resist?

I love road trip stories. There’s just something so carnal about them. A quickie on the side of the road or over the hood of a car, they’re all very stimulating. I loved Mona. She’s quite the little hussy. I don’t know how Jess managed to hold out on her for so long. Fast paced but not lacking in any area, Road Trip is definitely a feast for your senses.

Lip Service by Keta Diablo

After Navarre and Bryan have a fight, Bryan takes off on assignment to Japan. Determined to reconcile, Navarre creates the perfect romantic atmosphere for Bryan’s homecoming—only to have it go to hell in a hand basket. The plane has mechanical problems and Bryan is stuck in a hotel—200 miles away. Well, nothing like a little spontaneity to keep the relationship at its peak. Navarre decides to surprise Bryan in his hotel room, only to get a surprise of his own—Bryan isn’t alone.

Ouch. The suspense was killing me. I could feel the connection between Navarre and Bryan so I was really worried about what Navarre was going to find in the hotel room. Lip Service is a total page turner and I couldn’t wait to find out what was going to happen.

Wowzers. Spank Me Twice is mouthwateringly delicious down to the last page. What an incredible array of writers in this book. Jude Mason starts it off with a delicious tale of a naughty husband who gets his punishment and it goes out with a bang with a male love story by Keta Diablo. Spank Me Twice is like an Oreo cookie. Yummy crunchy cookie on the outside with delectable cream-filling in the middle. All the stories are fast paced and will have you needing a fan on high next to you.


* * *
Keta Diablo, Land of Falling Stars
Buy From Ravenous Romance: http://www.ravenousromance.com/once-upon-a-time/land-of-falling-stars.php

Review Date: 08/10/09
Score: 4.75
* 4.5 – 5 = Reviewer Top Pick, One of the best I have ever read Lifetime keeper!

Reviewer Name: JennJ – SAPPHIRE BLOG, http://sapphireromance.blogspot.com/search/label/Review

“Keta Diablo has penned a beautiful and haunting love story full of passion, deception, danger and the epic War Between the States that will leave you breathless and longing for more! I loved this story from beginning to end! It’s a true page turner that you will hate to see end. Keta really has a knack for getting you beneath her characters skins. This is one of those rare books that you don’t want to miss out on! And I’m sure you will agree with me after you read it, that Keta Diablo is a name that we will be seeing a lot more of in the coming years to which I say bravo!”

Land of the Falling Stars is the newest novel from up and coming author Keta Diablo. It is set during the turbulent times of the Civil War. Sophia Whitfield has lost nearly everything to this horrible war her parents, her brother and her entire way of life up till now. She has managed to keep Arbor Rose above water but just barely no thanks to the raiding of Yankees that have left she and her remaining servants with very little to survive on themselves. So when she sees another dreaded Yankee meandering down the road toward her home she has had enough! She grabs her father’s rifle and shoots the approaching soldier. But when she draws near she is horrified to see that she has shot none other than Gavin Langdale (one of her closest friends since childhood friend, who left to fighting started). Desperate to save his life she takes care of him night and day with the help of Old Nap and Brister (her faithful helpers who wanted to stay with her even after the emancipation) praying that he will survive.

When Gavin awakens he sees the angel that has haunted his thoughts and dreams hovering over him. Sophia Whitfield and Jesse Grantham and he had been the very best of friends growing up together on the banks of the Rappahannock. Though Gavin always harbored feelings for Sophia he never allowed them to show or did anything about them because she was promised to marry Jesse from birth. But now looking up at her all of those feelings seem to overwhelm him. Sophia is ecstatic that he has returned and will recover from the gunshot. But he wonders if she would feel the same if she knew of the horrible secret that he is harboring indeed the very reason that he has come back to Arbor Rose.

On a battlefield filled with chaos and smoke and the sounds of death all around him he fired at an approaching Rebel soldier only to find when he drew near to him that he had shot and killed Jesse Grantham, his best friend and Sophia’s intended. He is devastated by what he has done and he has come back to tell Sophia the truth. But when she is so glad to see him he finds that he doesn’t want to ruin this time with her just yet. So he sets about helping her with much needed repairs around Arbor Rose and finds that the feelings he harbors for Sophia are stronger than ever. And when she starts to display feelings for him as well can he come clean with her about what he’s done and ruin what has been his secret dream from the time he was 13, ( to have her love)?

Will their passion be enough to see them through the trials that they are about to face or will the truth and circumstances tear them apart? Or will a band of cutthroats kill them both before they ever have the chance to find out? And there is much, much more to this story but you are going to have to buy this one to find out more!

* * *
FOLLOW KETA ON TWITTER: http://www.twitter.com/ketadiablo

Follow my blogs to learn more about my gay fictin and historical erotica: http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com
http://thestuffofmythandmen.blogspot.com

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BUY DUST AND MOONLIGHT http://1romanceebooks.com

After reading and reviewing a strong of non-romance novels, I was excited to be able to read DUST AND MOONLIGHT by Keta Diablo. The story sounded promising and the time travel aspect seemed like a real winner. Take a bit of romance, toss it in with the paranormal and I am one happy lady. DUST AND MOONLIGHT certainly didn’t disappoint. It provided me with a good deal of entertainment and had some of the steamiest scenes around.

Dust and Moonlight by Keta Diablo
Publisher: http://1romanceebooks.com
Pages: 155, June 28th release
My Recommended Age Group: Adult
http://ajourneyofbooks.blogspot.com  JOURNEY OF BOOK BLOGS

Balion, Prince of Locke Cress, waited a long time for the forest nymph with lavender eyes to come to him. The dreams told him it was just a matter of time. What they hadn’t told him was that he’d lose his heart to the strange creature from another world.

After the serial killer attacked Kira, she awoke in a strange land. Now, she’s running for her life from wild boars, wizards, and sorcerers, not to mention a Prince that makes her body melt in all the wrong places. Facing extraordinary circumstances as the evil plots unfold, Kira fights for her life, and for a love that neither time nor distance can ever dispel from her soul.

My thoughts:

Kira Barton works with the FBI to help solve difficult cases. She has a gift for knowing when and where things will happen. Usually, that is. Lately her gift has been slacking, leaving her stranded with only her wits to guide her. Racing after The Scarlet Angel and trying to find his next victim before he does, Kira keeps her fingers crossed and desperately tries to will her powers back in to existence. Finally she manages a breakthrough and her dreams lead her to an ugly scene. Her curiosity and strong desire to find the killer might save the day or may cost Kira her life.

Balion, the prince of Locke Cress, is plagued by dreams of a wild-eyed forest nymph. His dreams are anything but innocent as he captures and then seduces the nymph. Unfortunately, he always awakes to find himself alone. One day, however, he discovers a beautiful woman running for her life through the forest. It’s only after saving her that he sees the striking resemblance this odd woman has to the nymph of his dreams. When Kira awakes to see Balion, the world topples down around them both. DUST AND MOONLIGHT brings to life a story of passion, intrigue, and suspense.

One of the traits I loved about DUST AND MOONLIGHT was the characters. I felt Kira was quite a realistic character and Diablo did a great job of bringing her to life. She clashed in a nice way with the ridiculously sexy Balion who was the perfect hero. It’s obvious a lot of time and energy went into the creation of these fantastic characters.

The storyline of DUST AND MOONLIGHT in and of itself was quite fantastic.</strong> We get the romance between Balion and Kira, the suspense of a third point thrown in to break the lovers up, and the intrigue of a secret plot. Combine this with a supernatural battle between two magical beings and we have quite a complex story. The steamy love scenes only added to an already great story and were really some of the best parts. To top it all off, DUST AND MOONLIGHT was a nice and short read at only 155 pages. This was enough for the story to captivate while still leaving us begging for more.

Fair warning time: As I’ve mentioned, DUST AND MOONLIGHT has adult scenes and adult themes. I would give this story a sensuality rating of four and would recommend it to adults.

Writing: 8
Interest: 8
Passion: 8
Originality: 9
Characters: 8
Pace: 7
Overall: 60/60 - B
Book Cover: 3/3

Using my rating scale, DUST AND MOONLIGHT earned a B, or "Love it!" I would recommend DUST AND MOONLIGHT to any romance fans out there. The time travel element makes for a plot with killer tension and the intrigue behind the scenes is a nice surprise.

* * *



CROSSROADS REVISITED
A Gay Fiction Erotica Novella
ISBN 978-1-59426-778-9

The exciting sequel to Crossroads!
Frank McGuire is beginning to think the City has become a melting pot for serial killers. Another maniac is stalking the streets, only this time the deviant isn't tracking Goth girls, but gay college students. Rumors surface that put Frank's life in jeopardy, and somehow he must protect Rand from the carnage about to unfold. What he didn't count on was Rand becoming the killer's next victim.
Elements: scenes of intense sexuality

BUY FROM PHAZE PUBLISHING: http://www.phaze.com
By Keta Diablo
http://ketadiablo.blogspot.com
http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com
http://www.twitter.com/ketadiablo

Prologue

Baltimore, Maryland
Present Day

Thomas Kincaid sat up in his bed and glanced at the alarm clock on his nightstand. Four AM. What had awakened him? Something, but his sleep-numbed brain couldn’t remember if he’d been dreaming or not. Snoozer didn’t bark, and Lord knows the beloved mongrel yelped if a leaf dashed against the windowpane.

Ah, that’s right, the yipper accompanied his mother to the cabin for the weekend. He wanted to join them, but promised his professor his term paper, Human Cloning: Catastrophe or Medical Breakthrough?, would be on his desk first thing Monday morning. Guilt shrouded him. He shouldn’t have gone to the bar tonight. Should’ve stayed home and finished the damn paper.

He paused for a moment, listening. So slight, he almost failed to hear the subdued footsteps. His heart banged against his rib cage and a surge of adrenaline pumped through his body. What should he do, and where in hell had he left his cell phone? A silent groan left his lips. He’d left it in his backpack on the kitchen table, and the only live phone in the house sat on the bureau in his mom’s bedroom.

He pushed the covers back and rose from bed. With the stealth of a cat-burglar, he walked toward the far wall and plucked his Little League bat from the wall—the one he used to hit the only homerun of his life. Not much of a weapon, but he felt more secure clutching the bat in his hand. He opened his bedroom door slowly, one inch at a time.

The bedrooms faced the backyard, and around the neatly trimmed lawn and flowers beds stood a privacy fence. He learned long ago how to scale it. For some reason, he felt certain the noise had come from the kitchen, or perhaps the great room in the front of the house. His choices seemed simple—reach his cell phone or his mother’s room.

Somehow, he had to call for help.

The noise grew louder. Whoever entered the house seemed emboldened by the lack of response from its inhabitants. He slunk into the hallway and warred over which direction to take, left to the live phone line or right to the kitchen. He chose the first. Better to call the police and climb out his mother’s window. His life held more value than television sets, stereos, or other material items.

Please God, let it be a thief and not some maniacal killer.

Every muscle and tendon in his body launched into high alert. He drew several deep breaths and talked himself down. Most intruders came for cash, jewelry, or hot items they could quickly pawn for drug money. Hadn’t he read somewhere most weren’t armed? Even if he hadn’t read it, the thought comforted him.

He moved down the hallway toward his mother’s room as quiet as a church mouse, his only thought being to get to that phone. Still clutching the bat in his right hand, he slipped into the room, dashed toward the phone, and lifted the receiver with his left hand. At the lack of a dial tone, his heart sunk. Someone cut the line.

A whisper warned him the burglar stood right outside the bedroom door. He froze and a sickening feeling took flight in his gut. This couldn’t be happening; this only happened to others, strangers you read about in the newspaper.

Shit! The newspapers. The headlines loomed behind his eyelids―Fourth Student Found Dead in the Patuxent. The door creaked open, the sound reminding him of a scene straight out of Friday the Thirteenth. A shadow—tall, dark, and intimidating—moved into the room. Through a shaft of moonlight, he saw the gun in the man’s hand, a nine millimeter he thought. In the other, the man held a flashlight and shined it into Thomas’ face.

“Hello, Thomas.”

Confusion stormed through his mind. He’d know that voice anywhere. “You! What are you doing here?”

“And I thought you’d be so happy to see me.”


* * *



CARNAL CRAVINGS
By Keta Diablo

Buy From Dark Roast Press
http://darkroastpress.com

http://ketadiablo.blogspot.com
http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com
http://www.twitter.com/ketadiablo

BLURB:

Craven and Anthony find themselves in a cauldron of trouble while spying on Beresford Hall. A man in a black hood has routed them while they spied, and now he’s escorted them to the manor and secluded them in separate rooms.

One thing haunts Craven, the ice-blue eyes behind the hood and Anthony’s words, ‘Only one man possesses such eyes . . . Dominic Beresford, the most magnificent creature God ever breathed life into.’

EXCERPT FROM CARNAL CRAVINGS
A gay fiction erotica novella

"You were instructed not to touch anything in the room, were you not?"

Craven turned abruptly and looked into the ice-blue eyes of the most magnificent-looking man he'd ever seen. Long, black hair touched his shoulders, sleek and shiny; the waves accentuated his olive skin and finely-chiseled features.

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to, or couldn't help yourself?" The decadent creature advanced toward him.

Heat crept up Craven's neck. "I-I, it brought back memories, sir."

"Did it now?" the Greek God said.

Craven nodded and licked his dry lips.

"Perhaps you'd care to tell me your name and why you were snooping about my private property?"

"Craven Saunders, sir, and we weren't snooping―"

"What do you call it, young man, agate-picking?" He shook his head, his voice stern. "I detest it when someone lies to me. At least if you are determined to spy on others, be man enough to admit it."

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir, what?"

Craven's tone took on the innocent pleadings of a child. "We were spying, Mr. Beresford, but I promise it won't happen again."

"Oh, I've no doubt about that, Mr. Saunders." He arched his neck, the sleek, black hair gleaming beneath the soft candlelight in the room. "I must inform you that my valet, Higginbotham, claims you've been spying for weeks. Knowing Higginbotham is an honest man, I conducted an investigation myself last Friday eve."

The man swiped a hand across his erotic mouth, the gesture turning Craven's knees to marmalade and his already dry throat to an arid desert.

Craven hung his head. Damn, he could do nothing but confess. "Your man spoke the truth."

When Craven garnered the courage to look at him again, the man gave a tiny shake of his head before speaking. "Craven . . . an odd name, is it not?"

"Yes, sir," he interjected quickly. "It means―"

"I know what it means―weak, spineless, fearful." The world tilted on its axis when the man advanced and raked him over with those deep, blue orbs. "Do the adjectives describe you, Saunders?"

"No, Mr. Beresford, sir, I don't believe they do."

He studied the man, captivated by smooth, silky cadence of his voice. If indeed Beresford stood before him, Anthony couldn't have been more correct. Magnificently stunning, he oozed primal male virility. The dim light of the bedchamber could not hide it. His mouth full, his nose straight, every feature of his face finely chiseled face had to have been crafted by a skilled artisan . . . or a patient God. Craven couldn't drag his gaze away from the man's luminescent orbs. His stomach somersaulted and he longed to be touched by him, * * * * senseless. Had he been out in the sun too long that day?

"Well, we shall see about that." The man's slow, languid once-over sent shivers down his spine.

Closing the distance between them, he took Craven's chin between his thumb and index finger, forcing him to look into those piercing eyes.

"What makes you think my name is Beresford?"

"My friend, Anthony, told me Dominic Beresford's eyes were the color of ocean depths, sir, so I assumed―"

He snorted. "Anthony? The other sniveling brat who, at this moment, occupies my parlor?"

Craven nodded again and felt his knees go weak. Breathing hard, a manly scent, tinged with spice, spiraled up his nose. God, would that he could take back this day.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-one, sir."

"From where do you hail, and as soon as you answer that question, enlighten me on exactly why you made such a foolish decision to spy on me."

"I grew up in Charleston, Mr. Beresford, and I, we, made the foolish decision out of curiosity."

"What though care killed a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kill care. William Shakespeare," he quipped. "Do you know what it means?" He paced before him, the massive build distorting the light and other furnishings in the room.

"Yes, sir, it means curiosity killed the cat."

* * * *

WARNING: THE CONTENT ON THESE PAGES IS ADULT - OVER 18 - SEXUAL LANGUAGE!

Valentine's Vindication, male/male novella
From Noble Romance: www.nobleromance.com

About the book:

The dreaded day had arrived. And this year, February 14th had a dual meaning. Not only was it Valentine’s Day, but it was also Valentine’s day. Since his breakup with his boyfriend, Valentine Giovanni, a month ago, Deke’s life seemed meaningless. What had he expected? The moment Val found out he’d cheated on him, the shit hit the fan . . . and Deke’s shoes hit the pavement.

He didn’t have time to explain the why of it. Val wouldn’t believe him, and even Deke didn’t fully comprehend why he did it. He told himself Val deserved better, a submissive that completely trusted him, who’d commit wholly to his rough sex and demands. So rather than talk over his fears and insecurities, Deke forced a breakup by admitting he’d cheated.

It was a painful scene, an angry, gut-wrenching, debacle that ended in a screaming rage. Deke thought he’d feel relief when it was over, but every day was more dismal than the last, and all he felt was emptiness. He’d never loved anyone like he loved his former dom. He realized that now.
And tonight, he planned to prove his love to Val.

Special Content Alert: M/M, Light BDSM, Spanking

Excerpt:

He drew a deep breath and thought of his mother’s words that afternoon. Thank God, she accepted that he was gay.

“You’re no longer a child, Deke. Be a man, tell Val you made a mistake and you want him back,” she had said. With that in mind, he commandeered his courage as Val walked toward him.

Deep, blue eyes looked into his. “How goes it, Deke?”

The familiar, rich timbre of Val’s voice sent his heart into triple beats. The room stilled and Deke had the feeling everyone was watching them. “Good, fine.”

“I see you got my invitation. What are you drinking tonight?”

“Huh? Oh, nothing for me, thanks.” Val watched him curiously. “Things aren’t good; I’m not fine. Can I talk to you . . . in private?”

There was a long pause during which Deke held his breath.

“What would we have to talk about? It’s all been said.”

“No, it hasn’t. At least not on my part. Two minutes, Val, that’s all I ask.”

Val leaned back against a large wall mirror and long minutes later, walked out from behind the bar and stood in front of him. “Two minutes, outside.”

Thank goodness for the temperate weather in St. Louis this time of year. No snow, sleet or rain in the last month, and even the nights only required a lightweight jacket. By the time they walked outside, Deke’s courage wavered like the flickering lamplight in the front yard.

Val broke the ice. “How’s it going at the radio station?”

“Okay, we’ve been busy as usual. How are the restaurants doing?” All three of Val’s restaurants were located in St. Louis’ prestigious downtown neighborhood and every one was financially lucrative.

“Busier than hell this week with Valentine’s reservations.”

Deke watched his lips move as he spoke and before he knew it, he closed the short distance between them and covered his mouth with his. In an instant, his cock grew hard. Val didn’t try to stop him, but he didn’t respond like he normally did, either.

Moments later, Val pushed him back. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Apologizing, trying to show you I made a mistake.”

Val’s brows drew together as he scowled. “You think it’s that easy. You just come waltzing into my restaurant after a month of not talking to me and kiss me?”

“I-I thought―”

“That you could fuck someone else and I’d be here waiting?”

“No, please, Val, I made a mistake. It wasn’t about him; it was about-about my fears.”

“Fear of me?”

Deke expelled a long sigh. “No, I didn’t realize it at the time, but now I know it was because I was afraid I wasn’t good enough for you. I thought you deserved someone who willingly . . .”

“Are you shitting me? You cheated because you believed you weren’t making me happy; you weren’t good enough for me?”

Deke nodded. He felt Val’s rage in the space that separated their bodies. This was going to be much harder than he’d imagined. Even if Val gave him another chance, which was doubtful, he would have to prove once and for all he could take whatever the man dished out.

Deke closed the distance between them again. “I’m asking for one more chance. I won’t ever hurt you again.”
Val stared at him and pushed a long lock of hair from his forehead. When his blue eyes narrowed, Deke almost dropped to his knees and begged.

“Why should I believe you wouldn’t cheat again?”

Stammering like a school boy, he said, “I’ll prove it, do anything you ask.”

“Anything?”

“Yes.” His heart thudded. “Whatever it takes to have you back again.”

“Your punishment will be severe.”

Deke swallowed. Hard. “I expect it to be. I can take it; just let me come home with you.”


~ ~ ~


Keta's Story "Lip Service" from SPANK ME TWICE Anthology
From Noble Romance, www.nobleromance.com

Excerpt:
If I’d had a lick of sense, I should have run. But I didn’t, and something deep inside me screamed, “You know this is what you’ve been waiting for all your life.” I succumbed, and willingly, and have spent every day since wanting more and more. Bryan is like a disease I can’t rid my body of, a shameless, delicious illness there’s no cure for.

My cell phone vibrated in my pants’ pocket and drew me from my reverie. Bryan’s number flashed before my eyes and instantly a sudden throb between my legs took flight.

“Hi,” I said, wanting to hear the sound of his voice, yet wondering why he was calling.

“I’ve got some bad news.”

“What, tell me?”

His voice was filled with frustration and anger. “My flight was cancelled, some fucking wing flap dysfunction.”

“Can’t you catch another one?” I asked, trying to concentrate on his words and dispel the sudden image of his magnificent face floating behind my eyelids. Why would God create such a masterpiece, the aquiline nose and erotic mouth; the perfectly-shaped brows above azure-blue eyes that held ageless mystery and soulful passion in their depths?

“Navarre, we’re talking La fucking Guardia here, and to make matters worse there’s a National Guard Convention going on with five thousand delegates trying to fly out to Jersey.”

“So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, there are no flights to Massachusetts for two days, and don’t bother asking about a rental car. I couldn’t even rent a rickshaw if one was available.”

I paced my breathing and tried to hide my disappointment. “No sense lighting the candles, I guess.”

“Look, I know it’s a special night, and I did my best to make it home, but . . . .”

“You remembered.”

He expelled a long breath and a shiver coursed through me. How many times had I felt that warm, contented sigh against the nape of my neck? “Yes, I remembered, and I’d give anything to be there . . . with you. “ The anger had left his voice, replaced by a seductive cadence that made my cock pulsate with need. “That’s all I’ve thought about for two weeks, being inside you. I imagine you on the bed, on your hands and knees, and me plowing into you until we’re both mindless and spent.”

“Don’t, please. These past two weeks have been a storm of emotion for me. The fight . . . the nights alone, and I was so looking forward to―”

“And you think I wasn’t going through the same tangled feelings?” He paused. “I’m sorry about getting on your ass about talking to Jay.”

“Jay means ohting to me, you know that."


~ ~ ~


CROSSROADS by Keta Diablo, PHAZE Publishing
Male/male Novella

BUT IT FROM PHAZE: www.phaze.com

San Diego Erotic Examiner REVIEWS:

This book is published by Phaze Books and is a short novel/novella.
Crossroads is a suspenseful, action packed thrill ride. Very rich in detail, this erotic story is not to be missed. I could not stop reading from beginning to end. It is also a m/m erotic.

The story starts off with Frank McGuire who is a private detective, who has two things going for him. He communes with the dead and he is hot for his dead partner’s son, Ryan, who is struggling with his sexual identity.

In between the angst is a killer on the loose targeting Goth girls.
This short story has a lot going on, yet you don’t feel overwhelmed with the amount characters paraded out. Each person has his and her place, and it just works beautifully.

When Frank and Ryan get together, it is explosive, hot and Nunchakkas are involved. There is some light BDSM, but it goes with the flow. Frank takes charge and Ryan follows, even though he fights the attraction initially.

Bottom line I give this book a 5. It is well-written, rich in detail, and the sex between the men is hot enough to burn. The ending was a surprise, and tied up very well. Don’t let this one pass you by!

This book or review is not intended for people under 18 due to graphic sex and those not comfortable with man on man love.
Books reviewed by me will be rated as follows:
5- Highly recommended to buy (Very hot, well-written, deep compelling love story, and answers all of my questions, leaves me wanting more)

~ ~ ~ ~