Keta's Keep

Monday, May 20, 2013

CANDI WALL Is Here With Agent/Editor Shop!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can find us here:

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

You can find the rules for pitching here:

Musetracks Agent/Editor Shop rules Please read them carefully!

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

Editor/Agent Shop Newsletter Group

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

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

Happy reading and writing!

~Candi

A little about Candi:

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

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

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

You can find her here:

www.candiwallbooks.com

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Sunday, May 19, 2013

Weekend Writing Warriors Sharing Again!

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Posted by Keta Diablo |

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Welcome to Weekend Writing Warriors . . .

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

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

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

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

AMAZON KINDLE

Barnes and Noble NOOK

About Sky Tinted Water:

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

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

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

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

WEEKEND WRITING WARRIORS HERE

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Labels: civil war, historical, keta diablo, romance, Sky Dance, sky tinted water, weekend writing warriors, writing |

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Welcome Kharisma Rhayne and OUTLAW'S GAMBLE

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OUTLAW'S GAMBLE

KHARISMA RHAYNE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Labels: erotic, guest spot, kharisma rhayne, outlaw's gamble, rafflecopter, western |

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Friday, May 17, 2013

There's A Little VOYEURISM in All Of Us

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* 25 Five Star Reviews

* Special Content Alert: Voyuerism

* RWA Molly Contest Finalist (Erotica category)

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

Nook: http://bit.ly/Kd6NC1

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

Kobo: http://bit.ly/NKY4r0

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Labels: decadent deceptions, erotic, historical, mystery, romance, suspense, voyeurism |

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Wednesday, May 15, 2013

This Week's Word Means "Young and Fresh"

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Vernal

Adjective [VER-nul]

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

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

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

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

Image Reminder

Youthful and Fresh

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

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

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

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

Damn, the man reeked arrogance.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Amazon KINDLE

Barnes and Noble NOOK

$1.99 (full length novel)

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Labels: keta diablo, this week's word, vernal, writing, writing prompt |

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Tuesday, May 14, 2013

Meet CALYPSO - The Time Traveling Cat from CRADLE OF DREAMS

5:53 AM |

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

INFO FROM ABOUT CATS HERE

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

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