Sunday, December 9, 2018

Pecan Crescent Cookies And #Christmas Traditions

Hello friends and followers of Keta's Keep.

Thanks so much for stopping by today. This month is a great month to visit the blog because you'll find all sorts of Holiday traditions and recipes you'll want to keep handy.

Here's a recipe for cookies I make every year. They're easy-peasy yet mouth-watering delicious.

1 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup finely chopped pecans
Confectioners' sugar

In a large bowl, cream butter, sugar and vanilla until light and fluffy. Gradually add flour. Stir in pecans.
Shape rounded teaspoonfuls of dough into 2-1/2-in. logs and shape into crescents. Place 1 in. apart on ungreased baking sheets.

Bake at 325° for 20-22 minutes or until set and bottoms are lightly browned. Let stand for 2-3 minutes before removing to wire racks to cool. Dust with confectioners' sugar before serving.

* * * *
What could be easier, right? And I know your family will love them!

Now...what about some of the first Christmas traditions in America?

Of course, Germany is credited with starting the Christmas tree tradition. However, the first American Christmas tree can be credited to a Hessian soldier by the name of Henrick Roddmore, who was captured at the Battle of Bennington (Vermont) in 1776. He then went to work on the farm of Samuel Denslow in Windsor Locks, Connecticut, where for the next 14 years he put up and decorated Christmas trees in the Denslow family home.

The first Christmas tree retail lot was established in 1851 by a Pennsylvanian named Mark Carr, who hauled two ox sleds loaded with Christmas trees from the Catskill Mountains to the sidewalks of New York City.

The first president to set up a Christmas tree in the White House was Franklin Pierce, and the first president to establish the National Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony on the White House lawn was Calvin Coolidge.

On December 22, 1882, Edward Johnson, an associate of Thomas Edison, created the first string of Christmas tree lights. They were first sold in New York City.

* * * *


The first department store Santa was James Edgar, who, during Christmas seasons beginning in 1890, would wander about his store (the Boston Store) in Brockton, Massachusetts, dressed as Santa Claus, talking to the children of customers.

December 7, 1898: The first Christmas postage stamp was released in Canada
December 7, 1907: Christmas seals sold for the first time
Wednesday, December 1, 1909: The Christmas Club savings account began

* * * *
I'm celebrating Christmas a little early with a great SALE on TWO of my full-length novels:

* 35 ‘Five’ Star Reviews
* RWA Molly Contest Finalist
* Red Carpet Review Top Award Nominee

Determined to win Morgan Gatewood’s love, Olivia Breedlove lures the decadent man into a game of cat and mouse. What began as a ploy to force him to commit, tumbles into a world rife with voyeurism, sin and murder. Morgan must not only beat Olivia at her own game but stay one step ahead of the scheming vixen once the serial killer has her in his sights.

Enter L’ Amour Immortelles, an affluent brothel, where no one is who they claim to be, and no one is safe. Enter the world of Decadent Deceptions where the hunted becomes the hunter to save the woman he loves. 


Sojourn With A Stranger - 99 Cents!

Raine Brinsley is penniless after her parents drowned at sea. She's sent by the local minister to Stafford House to apply for a job as a servant. Despite the alarm bells going off in her head, she accepts the offer of employment. She has one goal in mind, to return to her beloved grandfather in Maine.

Lord of the Manor, Derek Stafford, has his own dilemmas to worry about. His wife committed suicide some time ago after delivering several stillbirths. Derek and his brother, Lyman, race to produce the first male heir of Stafford House. The winner will receive not only the title to the eloquent manor but also an enormous sum of money from their father.

Derek decides the beautiful Raine will make the perfect surrogate. If only he can convince the young woman that signing a contract to bear his son will serve both their needs: She can return to her grandfather and he'll inherit a life of wealth and luxury.   

But dark stirrings are afoot at Stafford House. A ghost haunts the halls of the manor and the spirit is intent on exposing her killer to Raine. Steeped in murderous plots, Derek and Raine face insurmountable odds of achieving their dreams.

And fight the insatiable hunger between them. 

Thanks so much for visiting today, Merry Christmas, Happy Hannakuh and Happy Holidays!

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

From the Annals of History: A Real Life #Cowboy & His Lover...The Rose of Cimarron

Hi there, and thanks for stopping by today to read about bloody shootouts, a real-life cowboy and the woman who loved him. 

This is the true story of Rose Dunn, also dubbed the Rose of Cimarron, for her kind nature and beauty. I hope you enjoy it. 

Rose Dunn (aka the Rose of Cimarron) was born near Ingalls, Oklahoma. Her family was poor, but she received a formal education at a convent in Wichita, Kansas. Dunn's two older brothers became minor outlaws by the time she was 12. She learned to ride, rope and shoot from her brothers, and through them, she met and became involved romantically with George "Bittercreek" Newcomb around 1893. At the time, Rose was  only14-15 years of age. 

The gang Newcomb ran with worshipped her due to her good looks and her calm and kind demeanor, They were fiercely defensive of her, and in return, spawned her loyalty to them. Rose was completely infatuated with Newcomb and began supporting Newcomb's outlaw life. When he was a 'wanted' man she often ventured into town for supplies for him. By that time, Newcomb rode with theWild Bunch gang led by famous outlaw Bill Doolin. Her brothers, however, had left the outlaw life and become well-known bounty hunters, calling themselves the Dunn Brothers.

On September 1, 1893, the gang was cornered in Ingalls by a posse of U.S. Marshals, in what became known as the Battle of Ingalls, resulting in an intense shootout. Western legend has it that Newcomb was badly wounded, and while he lay in the street, Rose Dunn ran from the "Pierce Hotel" to his side with two belts of ammunition and a Winchester rifle. She fired the rifle at the Marshals while Newcomb reloaded his revolvers, thus, allowing Newcomb to escape.

Three Deputy Marshals were killed during that shootout, and both Newcomb and Charley Pierce were wounded but escaped. Gang member "Arkansas Tom" Jones was also wounded but captured by Deputy Marshal Jim Masterson. Together with Newcomb and other members of the gang, Rose Dunn hid out for at least two months nursing the remaining gang members back to health.

By 1895, Newcomb had a $5,000 bounty placed on him, dead or alive. Newcomb and Charley Pierce began hiding out near Norman, Oklahoma, both of them having been wounded in another gunbattle with US Marshals. On May 2, 1895, the Dunn Brothers shot and killed both Newcomb and Pierce as they dismounted in front of the Dunn house to visit Rose. The brothers collected the bounty, believed to have been $5,000 each.

Rumors abounded that Rose had 'outed' Newcomb and Pierce, but in later years, both Rose and her brothers denied the allegations. 

Rose went on to marry a politician and died at the age of 76. 

When we write western romance fiction, it's a story made up in our heads--although it might be taken from actual events in history. Sometimes we forget that life was brutal and cold in those days with real shootouts (and real bullets), nasty battle wounds, poor medical care, and long recoveries. Quite different sometimes than the romantic stories we peddle about westerns.

Here's one of my stories set in New Mexico in the late 1800s. New Mexico was well known for its harsh terrain and hot weather. I hope you enjoy reading about it.
Chasing the Dead
Western Romance

In 1884 New Mexico, Madrid Arrende finds herself kidnapped by the Apache. Determined to rescue her, her wealthy father realizes there is only one man capable of bringing her back alive...Deacon Bannister. Deacon doesn't give one whit about the large sum of money Don Erasmos Arrende has offered him to find his daughter. He only cares about bringing the woman he left at the altar a year ago home.

A ghost is terrorizing the Apache village and the young maiden, Sacheen, has been banished by her People for unleashing Uday's wrath. Now, Deacon, Madrid and Sacheen must flee for their lives across the rugged New Mexico landscape with the evil spirit in hot pursuit.

Will they make it back alive to Madrid's father's hacienda or will
Deacon lose Madrid forever?

Thanks so much for visiting today. I hope you'll stop in again!

Monday, November 12, 2018

Best Quotes To Inspire You - #Books #writers #readers

Quotes inspire us. The give us the impetus to plant our butts in the chair and write. Even when we think we have nothing to say. We must do it anyway. Plant our butts in that chair and write words, any words. We can always edit later. 

Quotes give us strength to face a new day. They cheer people, make us realize that every single person you meet is fighting some kind of battle - just like us. Quotes give us hope that even when everything is going wrong today, tomorrow is a new day filled with promise, aspirations, and dreams, 

I've chosen some of my favorite quotes - some are about life, some about books and writing.

But the last one is for YOU - the great writer, for every writer out there! Whether you're just starting out or you're a NYTimes Bestseller, I hope this quote convinces you that YOU ARE INDEED A GREAT WRITER.

A book is proof that humans are capable of working magic. It’s a flat object made from a tree (and it has) lots of funny dark squiggles. But one glance at it & you’re inside the mind of another person, maybe somebody dead for thousands of years.”~ Carl Sagan

This One's For YOU!
Say it Every Day

Thank you for dropping by. I hope I inspired you to be happy, count your blessings and most of all remember...You Are A Great Writer!

Now it's your turn. Do you have a favorite quote to inspire us? Please leave it in the comment section below. We'd love to hear from you. 

Thursday, November 8, 2018

She Betrayed Him Once & Now She Wants Him To Save Her Son. COMES A SPECTER

Welcome to Keta's Keep! Today, I want to share with you my most recent release. A Western Ghost story!

Comes A Specter, Book 2, Ghostland Series
Western Romance/Ghost story

Six months ago, Anya Fleming's ten- year-old son, Willie-boy, found his father hanging in the barn. Traumatized over his father's suicide, the boy hasn't spoken a word since. Now, Willie-boy has come down with a grave, unknown illness and there's only one man who can save him, Sutter Sky, a learned Blackfoot shaman known as Yellow Smoke—a shaman who was once deeply in love with Anya.

But Fate had other plans for Anya and Sutter—she was forced to marry Lewis Fleming, a cruel man who berated her night and day, and brokenhearted Sutter immersed himself in the mystical customs and beliefs of his People and became a shaman.

As if Anya didn't have enough to deal with after her husband's death and son's illness, an evil, sinister ghost is terrorizing their ranch. Anya is convinced the spirit is Lewis, who apparently isn't done making her life miserable.
When she turns to Yellow Smoke for help, will he put aside his bitterness and save Willie-boy? And can the renowned shaman dispel the powerful ghost from their lives and send him back to Hades?

Chapter One

"I have lived in the redness of the stones that mark a path
 through my blood. I am a descendant of a forgotten race,
but I carry in my hands the remnants of their fire"
Blackfoot Shaman

West of Butte, Montana

The ghost came again last night.
What little sleep found Anya left her drained and anxious. She dragged herself from bed, dressed in a dark blue, calico blouse, long brown skirt, and left the cabin to gather fresh eggs for breakfast. They sizzled in the skillet now, reminding her of the hissing sound the evil spirit often emitted. The haunt mimicked other noises too. It rapped its knuckles against the timbered walls of the cabin outside, howled louder than a cyclonic wind, screamed like a banshee and gnashed and growled like a weasel caught in a trap.
She closed her eyes. And other despicable things I can’t bear to think of much less talk about.
Willie-boy shuffled into the kitchen looking drawn and pale but seemed intent on performing his morning ritual of calling Cobb, their ranch hand, in for breakfast. Even Soot, her son's faithful hound, lacked his usual vigor. His ears lay flat against his head and his long, black tail hung limp between his hind legs.
Anya called out to Willie-boy. "Whoa, there, son. Where's my morning kiss?"
Willie-boy pivoted and looked up at her, his adorable, ten-year-old face flushed, his dusky-grey eyes dull. He walked toward her, a half-smile lifting the corner of his lips.
Leaning down, she placed her palm against his forehead. Did he have a fever, was her imagination working overtime or had she truly cracked? "Are you feeling poorly?"
He shook his ebony head of hair.
That's all he ever did these days, nod or shake his head. He hadn't spoken a word since his father died six months ago. Not one. Most days she wondered if he'd ever speak again.
One day, she saw him doodling at the table. When she looked over his shoulder he had drawn the image of a ghost. The specter's face was leathery, marked by deep crevices and jagged lines, yet had gray hair and pale blue eyes. Underneath the amateur drawing, he had written 'Papa'. At the time, her heart sank. Had he actually seen the spirit? Tarot readers, gypsies and mediums said children and animals can see ghosts because they've never been told not to.
She knew for certain then he had also heard the ghost. Course, one would have to be deaf not to. Willie-boy wasn't deaf; he was—the bitter word almost choked her—mute. And, after looking at the name under the picture, she wondered if her son thought Lewis had risen from the grave in the family plot to haunt them. She did too, although they'd never spoken of it.
"All right, then," she said cupping his cheek, "run along and tell Cobb his coffee is getting cold."
She thought about Cobb, her faithful friend who always seemed to be there in all her ups and downs in life. She pictured his long limbs, and slim, but well-muscled body, a body honed to perfection from years of hard work working a ranch. A handsome man with wheat-colored hair and hazel eyes, any sane woman would be attracted to him, yet she never thought of him as anything other than a friend, perhaps a brother.
When Willie-boy slammed the door on his way out, she jumped, and then cursed her late husband. "Isn't it enough you tormented me in life, Lewis? Be gone from here now and leave us in peace."
Lewis had always been a mean-spirited man, especially during the drinking binges, but in the months before his death, he'd gone off the deep end. His binges turned into nightly affairs and paranoia dogged his heels. He would sit at the kitchen table, fingers quaking around the jug, ranting at some unknown entity. The unearthly look in her husband's eyes as he searched every dark corner in the room unnerved her.
Anya treaded softly around him, afraid to ask questions much less suggest he put the jug down. She had seen his wrath, suffered his verbal abuse on many occasions and had no desire to provoke him. He had never raised a hand to her, but in this new, highly inebriated state, the man seemed capable of anything… even murder.
Damn her father for insisting she marry a man ten years her senior 'He will be a good provider, gal. He has promised to buy a small ranch with fifty head of cattle and a handful of well-bred horses.'
'I don’t give a whit if he buys a fancy hacienda and a thousand head of cattle', she had countered. 'I do not like the man much less hold a smidgen of love for Lewis Fleming.'
With tear-filled eyes, her mother had stepped forward. 'Anya, our good name will be tarnished forever if you do not marry and marry soon, before the babe….'
'I will go to Aunt Flora in Wyoming. No one has to know.'
Her mother had gasped. "And never come home again? Oh, I cannot bear the thought."
  Her father had banged his fist on the table. 'You will not name the father and Lewis has agreed to take a wife. The good man has asked for your hand. I have accepted.'
Back rigid, she had met her father's angry eyes but remained silent.
'Listen carefully, gal. There will be no more talk of Aunt Flora or running away from this shameful mess you've gotten yourself into. I will not allow your good Irish name to fall from everyone's lips with a sneer.'
Head up, her chin came out. 'I do not love Lewis and never will!'
Hands out at her sides, a pleading look crossed her mother's eyes. "Maybe in time you will come to love him, daughter.'
Anya felt the depth of her despair in every bone of her body. She knew she could never love Lewis, not when her heart belonged to another, had always belonged to another.  Trapped, she had no choice but to acquiesce to her parents' demands, and she had no one to blame but herself.
A familiar, frantic voice broke into the musings of the past. "Anya, come quick! Anya!"
Cobb's voice. Now what could possibly have happened? Standing at bedlam's door, a breath away from madness, she wondered how much more she could take—Lewis' death, her son's sudden refusal to speak and an infernal ghost bent on terrorizing them.
Anya moved the skillet away from the heat, turned on her heels and rushed out the kitchen door. Terror struck her heart when she took in the scene—Cobb rushing forward with Willie-boy in his arms. Her son's face looked whiter than the clouds overhead and his arms hung limp at his sides. With a hand over her mouth, she sprinted toward them. "What happened? Is he hurt, bleeding? What's going on?"
"Not bleeding and I can't see any injuries. I found him in the barn unconscious. He was under the rafters, Anya, where—"
"Dear God, under the rafters?"
"Lying on the ground, eyes rolled back in his head."
Anya turned in a flash. "Bring him into my bedchamber, and hurry, please." Briefly, she thanked God for Cobb, a childhood friend who had remained steadfastly loyal to her. During the nine years they had lived with Lewis' parents, Cobb worked their ranch. When Lewis finally purchased this place a year ago—a godforsaken, cursed piece of land—Cobb came with them.
Anya settled onto the bed next to Willie-boy. With a sick feeling in her stomach, she reached down and touched his forehead. His raging fever confirmed her imagination had not been working overtime earlier. Shallow and slow breaths rose from his chest, and not a muscle moved in his small body.
Leaning into his ear, she whispered. "Don't leave me, Willie-boy, please hang on. Do you hear me? You must fight."
She stumbled to her feet while trying to dispel the helplessness consuming her. "I'm going for help."
"To Doctor Metz in Butte? That's a good day's ride."
She shook her head. "No, Doctor Metz will be well into his cups by nightfall. The man is a notorious sucker."
Cobb rubbed his chin. "He does like to pull a cork. Where then?"
"Is Sutter still camped along the Wise River?"
"He's called Yellow Smoke now. He doesn't speak his white name, not after Baker's Massacre."
"Oh, I can't think about that now, his parents killed and just about everyone he knew." She rubbed her forehead as if a sharp pain had settled in. "I can only think of Willie-boy, and Sutter Sky, or Yellow Smoke if you prefer. He's the best shaman in the territory."
"He won't help white folks, and besides, you know he's soured on you, ever since you done married—"
"No one holds a grudge for ten years."
"He does after you up and married Lewis Fleming."
 Her voice took on a pleading tone. "But Willie-boy is only a child. He must help, he will help me."
"Let me go. I've known him since we were children."
"Oh, and I haven't?"
"Yes, but he's not sour on me."
"No, I'm going, and one way or the other, I'll make sure he comes back with me. Will you saddle Cheena while I fetch clean rags and cool water? While I'm gone, swab his forehead, and keep swabbing it. Don't forget to place cool, wet rags under his armpits and change them often."
Cobb rose from the chair he'd been sitting in. "I'll do my best to get the fever down." He paused for a brief moment. "You know, you're going to have to push that mare hard to get there and back before night settles in."
"Cheena's fit as a fiddle and fast too. Now, go, please, we must hurry."
Anya called out to him before he left the room. "Cobb, you won't leave him alone, will you, not for one minute?"
"You know I love Willie-boy. I promise I won't leave his bedside."
"What about… what about the ghost?"
"He hasn't entered the house. Don't see any reason he will tonight. 'Sides if he does, I been aching to kick his butt clear to Pittsburgh."
Anya couldn't squelch the small smile. "You can't kick his butt if you can't see him." She looked down at Willie-boy again and wondered if he had seen the spirit. He'd drawn a picture of a man with hollow eyes and an ancient face. Maybe he thought of his Papa as old. "All right, go now and come back as soon as Cheena's tacked. And don't forget my scabbard and Winchester."
"I don't like this plan." Cobb shook his long, blond hair. "Don't like it all, but I know I'm not gonna win with you. I never do."
As soon as Cobb cleared the bedchamber, Anya went in search of clean rags, and a cool pitcher of water.
When she returned, she deposited the rags and pitcher on the night table, then retraced her steps to close the door. She undressed in a rush, and then donned a pair of snug-fitting buckskin trousers, black knee-high boots, a tan blouse and a long black jacket that hugged her waist and flared over her thighs and hips. The jacket would act as a buffer from the dust rolling over the plains and the cold, night air if for some reason she didn't make it back before dark.
As a final touch, she grabbed the gray Fedora resting on a knob of her bureau mirror and plopped it onto her head. She debated about tucking her long blonde hair underneath the hat but in the end, decided to let it flow loose and wild down her back.
Speaking to the mirror, her dark blue eyes narrowed. "I'll find the place you call home, Sutter Sky, and beg if I have to."

What Reviewers Are Saying…

"Comes a Specter by Keta Diablo will raise the hair on the back of your necks as she mesmerizes you, chapter by chapter, through a story of love, determination, and a ghost that wants them all to die. The history of the Blackfeet tribe is woven into the pattern of this story like a delicate chain, connecting the characters together. Keta has done her research well. The anticipation of what will happen next flows through her chapters like warm honey down a sun warmed rock. You think you know what will happen, but then you realize you never had it quite right." 5 Stars

All the characters were well constructed and smoothly set into the setting of the story. The ranch made me visually create the image in my minds' eye. The setting of the story is very descriptive. The end of the story carries a lot of excitement. But I must say that the excitement is being carried throughout the story, which makes the reader want to know, what will happen next. I found the whole story overwhelming. It is a quick read and I would highly recommend to anyone who loves to read Paranormal Romance." 5 Stars

I can't recall the last time I read such a fascinating ghost story, especially one that is steeped in ancient traditions of Native Americans, particularly the Blackfoot tribe. It's rare I come across a paranormal story that is rich with tradition and that those traditions are called upon to expel the evil wrecking havoc in an otherwise normal world. This story is heavy and rich and enthralling. It begs the question, "What next?" 5 Stars

Thanks so much for visiting today!

Sunday, November 4, 2018

For #Paranormal #Historical #romance Fans - Land of Falling Stars

Welcome all. I'm so happy you're visiting today! 

My Award-winning Erotic Romance novel, Land Of Falling Stars is on sale November 5th through November 12th for 99 cents!

The blurb and short excerpt follow: 

About Land of Falling Stars

The United States is torn asunder by Civil War.

Two men, linked together by their love for one woman, Sophia Whitfield, answer the call of duty.

An arranged marriage to Jesse James Grantham has been in the works since Sophia and Jesse were children. When he leaves to fight for his beloved South, he promises Sophia they'll whip those Johnny Rebs in no time and when he returns, they'll get married under her mother's rose arbor.

Sophia's best friend from childhood, Gavin Langdale, enlists to fight for the North. Why does she feel as if he's taking her heart with him the day he leaves for war? She loves Jesse…doesn't she?

After Sophia's parents die in a fire, she struggles to save Arbor Rose. Most of the slaves have run off, the South is in tatters and so is the only home she's ever known. Another bluecoat is staggering down the hill, coming to steal the last of her meager possessions. Before the hated enemy has a chance to commit the vilest of acts, she shoots him.

And then discovers its Gavin, the champion of her youth.

Dark secrets lurk in Gavin's memory, secrets much darker than the despicable acts of war. He carries a message for Sophia, a missive from Jesse. When he finds the courage to tell her what really happened to Jesse on that bloody battlefield, she'll hate him—hate him until she draws her last breath.

A powerful story of lies, betrayal and a love that burns brighter than all the stars in Heaven

"Land of Falling Stars lured me in immediately with its lyrical title and instantly captivated me with the haunting love story of Gavin and Sophia."

Setup and Excerpt: Mule Cooper and his son, Billy, set fire to Arbor Rose, Sophia's beloved childhood home. During the attack, Sophia tripped and struck her head on the bedpost. Gavin carried her to safety and then left to kill Billy and his mangy sidekick. Nobody hurts Sophia and lives to tell about it.
Now...he returns to Sophia lying beneath the oak tree. Her breaths are shallow, her face paler than cotton bolls.

Gavin knelt beside Sophia and pulled her into his arms. Deathly white beneath the bright orange sky. Her breaths were shallow, the pulse at her neck weak. "Don't leave me, Sophia. Please fight!"

Next to him, Ricochet whined and looked at Gavin with a bleakness he didn't think possible in a dog. The hound's ears flattened, and he jerked his head toward the long dirt road leading to the manor. Gavin tensed.

"Lawdy, Massah Gavin, we seen the red sky a mile off." Brister hobbled forward, his cane working overtime. "What done happen?"

"Billy Cooper and his friends."

Nap dropped to his knees, wide-eyed. "Miss Sophia." A hand fell across his lips. "What they done to my lamb?"

"She hit her head on the bedpost when the fire broke out." Sick with worry, Gavin turned to Brister. "She's been out for an hour and her pulse is weak."

"What's we gonna do, Massah Gavin?" Brister whined. "She need a doctah."

"Christ!" He glanced over his shoulder. The manor hissed smoke in its final lap, and the barn had been reduced to ashes. "The horses took off across the pasture, find them. If you catch Baby Moon, Mischief will follow." He added, "Take Ricochet and he'll herd them in."

"Yes, sir." Ol' Nap scratched his head. "Then what?"

"Does old Doc Jenkins still practice out of his house in Fredericksburg?"

"Yassah," Brister said.

Nap took in a quick hiss of air. "They's blood all over the hound's neck."

"He didn't like the way Billy talked."

"He dead?"

"He wasn't looking good the last time I saw him."

Ol' Nap's broad face twisted with fear. "His Pa come for you now, Massah Gavin."

Gavin's voice spewed arctic air. "If Sophia dies, he won't have to come for me." Misery, acute and raw, twisted in his gut. Sophia dead? He would put a gun to his head. 

Brister narrowed his eyes, leaned in and inspected the jagged tear on his cheek. "You best let me stitch up that cut."

"I'll have Doc Jenkins look at it."

Her pain-filled eyes loomed as Gavin tossed a ragged blanket— scrounged up from the floor of the smokehouse—over Mischief's back. He grabbed a handful of the mare's mane, hoisted himself up and took Sophia from Brister's arms. The soft moan from her lips gave Gavin hope.

Ricochet pranced around the horse. "No! You stay here."

The dog whined and lowered his massive body to the ground. 

"You can't come this time."

Ricochet barked.

"Do your damn job and protect what's left of Arbor Rose."

"He ain't gonna stay, Massah Gavin." Brister shook his head. "No, siree, soon as you a mile down that road, he gonna take off like he after a fox."

"Tie him up, and tie up that colt too."


"One more thing." Gavin tightened his grip on Sophia. "Don't sleep in the smokehouse or in any building tonight. Cooper will come, and when he does, you don't want to be trapped."

Ol' Nap nodded and grabbed the rope around Ricochet's neck. Gavin dug his heels into the mare's sides and disappeared down the long dirt road.

What reviewers are saying....

"The author pens a story that is unlike any other. Land of Falling Stars makes you believe in the possibility of retribution and the hope of finding your brass ring in the last place you look." 5 stars

"The true hero of this wonderful love story is Ricochet, Sophia's beloved Wolfound." 5 stars

"This is the story of a Southern lady and a Yankee soldier who face the aftermath of the War Between the States. A mustread historical #romance story! You'll need a bucket of icy water to read this HOT story!" 5stars 

There is so, so much to this story. You are going to have to buy this one to find out for yourself! BRAVO Ms. Diablo, BRAVO!" 5 stars

"Land of Falling Stars has the ups and downs of a roller coaster and keeps the reader hanging on with bated breath. A ten-star read!"

Thanks so much for dropping by!

Monday, October 29, 2018

Join in on the Spooktacular Blog Hop and have a Howling Good Time #Spooktacular #BlogHop

While the fall nights are getting colder, you might need something to keep you warm! 

If you love heat like we do, you'll love the fantastic romantic fiction that can be found on the blogs of this hop. 
From sweet to downright sizzling, you'll be sure to find something that you will fall in love with!

Thank you to the authors who are in the hop, and a special thank you to you, our readers!

Now go on.... get your hop on!