Keta's Keep: September 2011

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

STORM MOON PRESS - Blog Hop!

6:00 AM |

Posted by Keta Diablo |

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Storm Moon Press and its imprint, Wild Moon Books, will be traipsing over the blogosphere throughout October for our yearly blog tour. There will be giveaways and informative posts from the owners and several of the authors.

Storm Moon Press was founded January 2010 with the goal of publishing quality GLBT erotic romances and erotica. We publish all genres, including fantasy, paranormal, horror, urban fantasy, contemporary, and science fiction. We are also very open to not only gay, lesbian, bisexual, and trans* stories, but also those showcasing alternative lifestyles such as BDSM, ménage à trois, and polyamory.

During our 2011 year, we decided to branch out with an imprint for mainstream erotic romances and erotica that had the same goal: publishing only quality erotic fiction. Storm Moon Press and Wild Moon Books both have many anthology calls out and are actively seeking novella and novel length submissions. Readers can see what we have, what's in store, and maybe even be introduced to a new author or two. Follow us around on the blog tour, get to know us, and comment! Comments get you into contests, and contests are just fun. ;)

This, of course, includes our annual Swag Bag Giveaway. During the tour, we'll have a post on our official blog where you can comment or use the twitter mention on the post to be entered, so check it out (http://www.stormmoonpress.com/blog/). Our blog stop schedule is below. Some days have more than one place to go. Check out the sites and follow along!

STORM MOON PRESS
MOON BOOKS

October 1st – (Amanda Young's blog) – ROMAANCE WITHOUT INHIBITION
October 3rd – Rachel Haimowitz – BOOK WENCHES
October 4th – Aleksandr Voinov - TOP 2 BOTTOM REVIEWS
October 5th – Rachel Haimowitz - Ebook Addict Reviews
October 6th – Giveaway -  STUMBLING OVER CHAOS
October 7th – BOOK WENCHES
October 9th – IT'S RAINING MEN
October 10th – LONG & SHORT REVIEWS
    Cornelia Grey at IT's RAINING MEN
October 11th – THE LONG & SHORT REVIEWS
    Babes in Boyland – MJ & Piper Blog
October 12th – THE LONG & SHORT REVIEWS
   NAUGHTY IN THE BACKSEAT
October 13th – THE LONG & SHORT REVIEWS
    SUGARBEAT BOOKS
October 14th – THE LONG & Short Reviews

   SUGARBEAT BOOKS
October 15th – Top2Bottom Reviews
October 16th – S.L. Armstrong & K. Piet at It's Raining Men
October 17th – It's Raining Men
    Cornelia Grey at Book Wenches
October 18th – Rachel Haimowitz at Romance Without Inhibition
    Night Owl Reviews
October 19th – Aleksandr Voinov at Elisa Rolle's Blog
    Night Owl Reviews
October 20th – International Heat
October 21st – Romance Lives Forever
October 22nd – Aleksandr Voinov at Romance Lives Forever
October 23rd – Cornelia Grey at Romance Lives Forever
October 24th – Aleksandr Voinov at Book Wenches
    Bibrary Blog
October 25th – Bibrary Blog
October 26th – Cornelia Grey at Elisa Rolle's Blog
October 27th – Desert Island Keepers
October 28th – Desert Island Keepers
October 29th – Desert Island Keepers
    Three Wicked Writers Plus Two
October 30th – GLBT Promo Blog
October 31st – Storm Moon Press Official Blog

Be sure to check out ALL the blogs for contests, give-aways and fab new reads!

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Saturday, September 24, 2011

Do Authors Stack the Deck When It Comes To Reviews?

12:52 PM |

Posted by Keta Diablo |

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I committed a Cardinal sin last week. I left a response on a blog after a scathing review for one of my books. Calling a book "rubbish" (anyone's book) goes beyond the pale and serves no purpose. Particularly when it comes from a colleague. I dislike political forums, that is, any blog or public forum that exists to "stack the deck" on any topic or exists with one purpose in mind -- to drive traffic to their blog at someone else's expense. In essence, authors who hang a shingle out and call their blog a "review site" are performing a horrendous disservice to readers.

Authors first and foremost are writers. Not readers and not reviewers. True, 70% of the population at one time or another read, including authors. But writers who sell their books put themselves in the public eye as "professional authors" first. They put endless hours of blood, sweat and tears into the books they write. And yes, not everyone will like your "baby". That's just the way it is in life. People have different opinions, likes and dislikes, and I sincerely treasure that. That's what makes the human race so fascinating.

Authors expend time, effort and hundreds of hours on social network sites to let people know about their books. I hope while they're there, they'll not only read but listen to what readers say about authors reviewing another author's book. Over and again they say, "I pay little attention to another author's review," or "I discard a review from an author and listen to what the readers say." Are we listening?

As professional/paid authors we have an inherent obligation to respect these opinions and heed them. Reviews are for readers, professional book bloggers and the public. They pay hard-earned money for our books, particularly in these strained economic times. We OWE it to them to keep our noses out of reviewing colleagues' books (whether that review is good or bad). Reviews are NOT and never have been for authors. And if we think they are, then we've allowed politics to enter the publishing world in this regard.

Why do authors ask an Internet colleague or a fellow writer to review their book? And let's be honest. They want a glowing review -- a "stacked deck" review. Is that fair to people who are buying your books?

And my next question leads to "qualifications". What makes a writer qualified to review a colleague's work by virtue of their occupation? Nothing. Nada. Zip. Are these "shingle" review blogs NY Times best-selling writers? Have they accumulated literary awards from the long-established industry leaders? Have they won recognized writing contests? Ninety percent of the time, the answer is no. Because they write in the genre doesn't automatically qualify them to critique the genre or another's writing.

But, you say, most readers have not won awards either. That's very true, but there's one vast difference. Politics. They have nothing to gain or lose when reviewing a book. They are reading, hopefully, for pure enjoyment, or perhaps for escapism. Nothing more, nothing less. They don't have an agenda, they don't know the author (most of the time) and there shouldn't be "politics" involved whatsoever.

Let me state for the record, I have on RARE occasion endorsed an anthology or a book. I don't like to and I don't ask authors to review my books. There is absolutely nothing wrong with endorsing a writer's work if you like it. They worked hard to achieve that success and many times deserve an endorsement from a colleague. This isn't the same as "reviewing".

I've received over a thousand reviews (I counted this morning) and not all are good (plenty of two stars mingled in). But I believe if they're from readers, bloggers and Jane Doe, they're heartfelt. Out of those 1,000 reviews, I've commented on two. One in a "private" message that went viral and the one last week from a writer's blog. The first one wasn't a review at all, no commentary ever, but rather from a reader who marks all my books two stars within hours of their release. Pointless as it seems, it's true. (I can't listen if he/she doesn't tell me what didn't work).

Authors need to ask themselves some serious questions:

Why do I want a review from a colleague?What am I looking for?

Do I really want to put another author in the position of having to say he/she likes my book when they don't?

Do I want readers to pay for my book over "stacked" reviews?

Why am I reviewing a co-workers book? What makes me qualified?

Am I reviewing to draw traffic to my blog or to "tout" my own books?

See the politics?

Tough questions. But if we are to maintain the integrity and honesty we strive for in the publishing industry, I think they're fair questions and ones authors need to answer.

Let's leave the reviewing to the true professionals, you know, the millions of bloggers and readers who have no agenda, who dedicate their lives to bring to the public love of the written word.

PS: COMMENTS ARE CLOSED on this blog. See above "politics". Peeps can discuss this on all the other blogs, which I'm sure they will. It's not my intent to start a cyber war over this topic, but rather to have authors ask themselves some serious questions.There are comments being posted on Google from readers and authors. I will also post all snippets here of "negative" comments. So far, I don't see any. Happy reading and reviewing!

* * *

As a long time reader and a new reviewer I really appreciate the insure gained from your blog post and these comments posted here. as a reader, I can tell you that I look for reviews by the average reader and ignore what I know are author reviews.

* * *

You always make so happy that I stumbled across your books. We (readers) don't give much attention to inflammatory reviews or comments that we see. Many times I go by the simple description of the book and a feeling of what the book could be like. If all that's not enough then I read some reviews to get a better idea of what the book is about ~ but not what authors thought about it.

* * *

Some authors think it's okay for authors to review books in their own genres. Others don't. I'm in the don't category for several reasons:

1. No matter how objective one thinks they're being, there's a conflict of interest.
2. As a reader, I don't pay attention to reviews written by authors because I assume they were helping out a friend (positive review), or had some type of agenda (negative review).
3. Professionals don't publicly criticize others in their profession. If an author feels compelled to tell another author what she didn't like about a book, at least do it privately. Better yet, don't do it unless asked. Unsolicited "advice" is seldom welcomed.
4. People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.

* * *
Blogger/reader: "Read the works of close friends for fun only, never go beyond that. Giving someone you know -- as an internet buddy or acquaintance -- "false or negative feedback" has a self-serving connotation to it.

* * *
Hey, we have a resolution to this farce. Why don't authors just tell all the readers, bloggers and professional review sites they're no longer needed. (wink . . . smile) We not only write our own books, but we're taking over the review side too. Do authors not see the banner-size conflict of interest or are they sporting the rose-colored glasses again.

* * *
Some book marketing gurus suggest that reviewing books in your own genre is a way of attracting traffic to your site, but is criticizing the work of other writers to promote your own books a smart thing to do? I don't think so.

* * *

I would only have a problem if the author (as a reviewer) is only reviewing books she knows she won't like, so she can put the book down, or generally gives low reviews because she thinks witty sarcasm makes her look good. Again, it's JMHO.

* * *
I've only received one which was slanderous, and I'm fairly certain this person knows me and was out for blood. I wanted to reply, "you do realize that half of the stuff you're complaining about wasn't even IN the book?" Being new to the field, I was stunned by readers responses to authors commenting on reviews.

* * *
From a blogger: You mean after all my hard work, paying for my blog design, authors are taking over reviewing too? Well I'll be damned. Call me irreplaceable, expendable and now broke.

* * *
And here are the poll results from a recent listing on Moblieread online community answered by readers:

We challenged readers to select the single most common criteria they follow to discover their next read.

1. The most-selected answer was “Recommendations from fellow readers on online message forums, blogs and message boards,” with 29% of respondents choosing this. By contrast, only 4% selected, “Personal friend/family member recommends it to me.” I think this is fascinating, because it implies readers trust the collective wisdom of strangers and online acquaintances more than they trust the recommendations of friends and family.

* * *
Posted on GOOGLE this morning a Note for writers:

Dear Writers,

For every one of you who has ever had a bad reviewer - as opposed to a bad review - I give you this pearl of wisdom from one of the greatest American poets, TS Eliot.

THE TRIUMPH OF BULLSHIT

Ladies, on whom my attentions have waited
If you consider my merits are small
Etiolated, alembicated,
Orotund, tasteless, fantastical,
Monotonous, crotchety, constipated,
Impotent galamatias
Affected, possibly imitated,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass

Ladies, who find my intentions ridiculous
Awkward insipid and horribly gauche
Pompous, pretentious, ineptly meticulous
Dull as the heart of an unbaked brioche
Floundering versicles feebly versiculous
Often attenuate, frequently crass
Attempts at emotions that turn isiculous,
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.

Ladies who think me unduly vociferous
Amiable cabotin making a noise
That people may cry out "this stuff is too stiff for us" -
Ingenuous child with a box of new toys
Toy lions carnivorous, cannons fumiferous
Engines vaporous - all this will pass;
Quite innocent - "he only wants to make shiver us."
For Christ's sake stick it up your ass.

And when thyself with silver foot shalt pass
Among the Theories scattered on the grass
Take up my good intentions with the rest
And then for Christ's sake stick them up your ass.

TS Eliot, 1910

* * *
Amazon Reader: Another "Don't" example - list books where the author's friends and family post multiple 5 star reviews. Another HOT issue with readers.

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Labels: stacked reviews |

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Wednesday, September 21, 2011

CONTEST Excerpt from Strange Bedfellows CONTEST

5:23 AM |

Posted by Keta Diablo |

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Please help me welcome author Q Kelly to the "Keep". Below is an excerpt from a new release STRANGE BEDFELLOWS. Hope you enjoy it!

* CONTEST* - Want to win a copy of the book? Leave a comment for Q. Kelly below. In several days she'll announce the winner on the BLOG and also notify them by e-mail. Don't forget to leave your e-mail address in case you win!

* * *

BUY THE BOOK HERE:

AMAZON

SMASHWORDS

BARNES & NOBLE

Excerpt From "Strange Bedfellows" Q. Kelly

"We need to figure out how we'll introduce you to my family."

The prostitute undid Frances's ponytail and moved her hands into Frances's hair. "I like your hair down."

"I like yours down, too."

"Strawberries and cream?" Her breath tickled Frances's ear and neck. Goosebumps prickled and swayed on Frances's arms, legs and stomach. The prostitute again smelled of watermelon, but that did not bother Frances. Not now.

Frances felt soft lips nibbling her neck. Her thoughts spun. Her insides spun. The prostitute continued nibbling. Her hands curled around Frances's waist, coming to rest on her stomach. Her hips and her breasts pressed into Frances's back.

"Your name," Frances managed. "We need a name to tell my family. Make something up."

"Later."

"Why?"

"I don't want to lie to you. Not tonight, anyway. We have time to think of a name."

"It's not lying if I tell you to do it."

"I suppose."

"Tell me something about you."

"I want you, Frances Marie Dourne. Let me please you."

Damn, she was good. You don't want me. You want my money. The next time Frances was with a woman would be right. True. She wanted deep, heartfelt kisses, excited, eager tongues. Gentle caresses, maybe whispers of: "I love you." Not a prostitute's rules, such as no kissing, no touching here or there, no this or that.

"Tell me something about you," Frances insisted.

"I brought you the necklace."

Frances's heart thudded. What?

The prostitute reached for her briefcase and presented the necklace. The necklace did not have sand in it, not technically. The "sand" was pieces of fake green crystals. No matter. The necklace was lovely, and Frances traced its smooth, gold surface. It's not the same necklace. She bought a look-alike. I hope. "I couldn't. I really couldn't."

"Yes, you can. Turn back around so I can put it on you."

She’s angling for a big tip. She’s doing her job. Well.

Frances imagined for a moment that the woman before her was her lover, not a prostitute. She pretended that maybe they would make love that night. Her need to open herself up like a flower to another woman, to taste another woman, to kiss her, have their juices mingle, was great. Perhaps too great.

She had never tasted another woman. Pathetic.

The other prostitute--Frances had never asked her name--had been utilitarian. Workmanlike. She went down on Frances mechanically. Frances had not been tempted to touch her. Contempt shone in her eyes. Yet Frances returned week after week, until shame got the better of her. Frances was not sure why she had kept returning. Perhaps to spite the prostitute. Two could play that game. If the prostitute was not going to respect Frances, Frances was not going to respect her, either. Stupid. Petty. Chicken.

This new woman, this new prostitute, was different. She would be good. Frances longed to feel the heat of bare, female skin on her. One hotel room. One night. Maybe even just one hour.

She needed this. Deserved this.

"Let’s get the necklace on you," the prostitute urged.

"I really couldn't."

"Are you sure?"

"Is it yours? Or one you bought today?"

"It's mine. I want you to have it."

"Tell me who gave it to you."

"I hardly wear the necklace. You'd wear it. It's beautiful and deserves to be worn. That's all there is to it. Okay?" The prostitute guided Frances to the mirror on the wall. The prostitute's breath on Frances's neck was hot. The area between Frances's legs clamored to be addressed. Three years was a long time. Too long.

The prostitute put the necklace on Frances. The combination was Christmassy, with the green close to Frances's red bra. Frances met the other woman’s hazel eyes in the mirror. "Thank you."

~ ~ ~ ~

You can find Q. Kelly, Author of Strange Bedfellows here on the net:

BLOG
WEB SITE

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Labels: Q Kelly, Strange Bedfellows |

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Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Four Lips Review for Cradle of Dreams!

3:48 PM |

Posted by Keta Diablo |

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Cradle of Dreams by Keta Diablo is a fast and action packed paranormal romance taking place both in the present and at the end of the Civil War. The characters are likeable and the dialogue is both sharp and risqué. The story moves at a very fast pace with a couple of unexpected twists and turns.

The story begins in present day Savannah with Kendra and Mrs. Higgins discussing “Wuthering Heights” by Emily Bronte. Both Kendra and Mrs. Higgins are discussing the dark side of love and the lessons Ms. Bronte is trying to impart in her story. While Mrs. Higgins leaves to run an errand, Kendra falls and the story then switches to Savannah in 1865 when Roane Bradfield has returned from the Civil War and is planning to confront the woman he feels has betrayed him. Roane is angry, hostile, and suffering from his experiences in the war. He intends to embarrass the woman who swore to wait for him until the end of the war but is now engaged to one of his former rivals.

Kendrick Moreland thought Roane Bradfield had died in the war and agreed to marry someone else. It took her several months to get over his death. When he confronts her at a ball, she’s elated to discover he’s alive but is distraught over his anger and hostility. The scenes between Kendrick and Roane are full of repressed passion, anger, and lots of sexual tension. He doesn’t intend to let her marry someone else; he’s masterful and very seductive and will do whatever it takes to keep Kendrick in his life.

Will Roane and Kendrick get their happy ending? And is this real or is it a dream inspired by reading “Wuthering Heights”? You’ll have to read CRADLE OF DREAMS to find out.

Gracias Two Lips Reviews!

BUY CRADLE OF DREAMS ON KINDLE

ALSO AVAILABLE ON NOOK

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Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Elise Hepner is Here With Her New RELEASE!

5:53 AM |

Posted by Keta Diablo |

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Roped Emotions

Elise Hepner

Blurb:

Rapunzel is trapped by the harsh, inescapable reality of her prison, so she builds vivid sexual fantasies where she has full control and no one can take it away. If nothing else, at least she has command over her thoughts.

When Prince Samuel climbs into her tower it’s a small, satisfying excuse to break the rules—until his gentle touch coaxes out her trust. But it’s not enough. No longer can she keep her dark, sexual secrets inside. Rapunzel yearns for rough, passionate sex—a way to unlock her sensual freedom for good.

Vulnerable but unable to turn back, Rapunzel leads Prince Samuel on an intimate journey to define their sexual limits while twisting their definitions of control forever.

Excerpt:

“What in Christ’s name…”

I must be hearing echoes from the town nearby, where Mother sells her herbs and braided goods. No one ventures this far toward my tower because Mother’s gone to great lengths to see that they don’t—bear traps are her new favorite method of discouragement. Once one life is claimed, I imagine word spreads fairly quickly to stay away from the area. Why then are there hoof beats that make my head pulse with a slight pain?

There’s no understandable excuse I can delude myself with any longer. Before I can focus on the consequences, I swing my head out the window into the oppressive, humid summer air. Just the very top of his head is visible, his hair brushing past his cheekbones, glowing from the sunshine and shot through with gold. Never have I seen a color so close to my own before—not that I see many people.

For a few moments I can’t quite come to terms with his presence and it’s not for a lack of staring that my pulse inevitably echoes inside my head like an overbeaten drum. This is my chance. Mother won’t be back for quite some time with her wares. He’s circling the tower, slouched over a horse who looks a bit like a nag. Certainly not a proper horse for a man with such fine clothes in gorgeous colors and sumptuous fabrics.

There’s no going back from this moment. It’s a certainty that makes my teeth chatter in a wash of cold fear, despite the heat, and my hands clasp around my middle as I try to hold myself together. He hasn’t looked up yet, more intent on studying the free-standing structure than noticing my shadow plastered across the grass. My mind is desperately working out what I’ll cry out to him. Even as my throat closes with an infusion of happiness that makes me rock on my feet.

“Excuse me?” A tentative question I’m not sure he will hear because it can’t be any louder than a frightened whisper. “Sir, you’re really not supposed to be here.”

Somehow, I’ve managed to make this part louder because he glances up—and his slack-jawed expression is a blow to my chest. He possesses the most gorgeous cobalt blue eyes. Underneath my ribs, the pain grows until taking a full breath is hard. Mother is right, he hasn’t even overcome his shock as my heavy plait of hair rests down the stone side of my prison. He’s not to be trusted.

What am I thinking? He won’t even come near me to aid my escape and his eyes are swamped in confusion—and there’s a flash of unreadable emotion that I refuse to question. He must leave here now and I must somehow convince him to bring no one back with him. I won’t be paraded around for anyone’s amusement. This man has made a mistake coming here.

Yet, there’s still a part of me that grips the windowsill until my palms are numb and that clings to the hope that he will at least acknowledge me. So long since I’ve had any kind of normal conversation. One that didn’t revolve around my hair, my rules or my mother’s day. Won’t he say anything? I’m as trapped by his thick silence as I am by the beauty of his face.

“Please, you must go and tell no one about what you’ve seen. You shouldn’t have ignored the traps. They are there for a reason.”

I don’t know how I’ve gotten that all out because my main focus lies on the foreign stirrings of heat in my cheeks as the pulsing sensation twists lower in my abdomen. What is happening to me? With a certainty that surprises me, I find myself clenching my thighs together, only to have the subtle touch of flesh-on-flesh be more than I can bear. He has yet to take his gaze from mine and a shudder slips up my spine.

“How long have you been here?” His voice carries the strain I hold back and I’m slightly put at ease that at least we are on similar ground. “Who did this to you?”

“For a man who is about to leave, I don’t believe it matters.”

The words barely tumble out of my mouth before I clamp my hand over my lips. I hadn’t meant to be so harsh and instantly regret it. He is so handsome—and these sudden urges, they are overwhelming and confusing to the point where I wish to completely remove the problem. My lips part in an apology and I watch a jovial grin span from ear to ear as he laughs at me until I can’t hear anything but the frantic beat of my heart.

Who is this man? Now he stares at me with a playfulness that washes a wave of goose bumps across my flesh. He doesn’t seem offended, merely amused at my suggestion that he leave. To further that fact, he quickly dismounts and ties his horse to a nearby tree branch. While I can only stare at the way his tight riding boots and breeches hug his muscular body from his calves all the way up to his perfectly rounded buttocks.

Though I’d learned of desire from my mother—and all its wicked principles—I never expected it to rear its head in my lonely, simple world.

However, now my life spirals out of control quickly enough that I tilt back against the wall to my left and watch with trembling hands. This mysterious man climbs the wall of my tower as if it had been built to be climbed so easily—without any aid from my hair. One strong, sun-kissed hand and booted foot at a time. When he offers up his hand to me to pull him over the side, what choice do I have? Even a man that strong would eventually grow tired and plummet to his death—and I want him tucked close to my body, not on the ground.

“I was beginning to wonder what it took to get some assistance.”

He softly grunts and clasps my hand hard enough that I gasp as I shift my weight to pull him over the side. Muscles I didn’t know existed inside me burn with sharp pain from disuse because of my isolation. His touch radiates heat all along my arm. If it wasn’t for his precarious situation, I would fight to pull away on instinct—but as it is, he manages to throw himself into my home with as much grace as a charging boar—and he trips, falling on top of me and sending us to the hard, stone floor.

His surprisingly soft hand brushes the hair out of my face and lingers, gently stroking, down my cheek. Should I be frightened? Probably. At the moment I can’t bear the thought that my first sincerely gentle touch from a man would be anything but special. His sharp leather scent surrounds my tingling skin.

“Isn’t this a day for surprises?” His gaze cuts through all the fear inside me and his mouth holds the subtle curve of a half smile. “I should move myself off you, this isn’t proper at all when we’ve barely been introduced.”

Yet he doesn’t move an inch.

A realization whips through my mind and would have left me on the floor if I wasn’t already pinned there by a gorgeous man who touches me with such reverence I might weep. When will this happen again? After this twisted, meandering path of fate, there is no doubt I will be alone again—and I want a loving memory to cling to at night when my old fears tighten my chest until I can’t breathe. This is a choice I can make for myself. And I won’t live the rest of my ordinary, sheltered life not knowing true passion when it burns across my skin.

“They call me Rapunzel.”

“Samuel.”

His inviting smile lights up my whole world.

~ ~ ~

Buy Links:

Author Links

~ ~ ~

CONTEST: If you'd like to win a copy of Roped Emotions please leave a comment below for Elise. Don't forget your e-mail address in case you win!

GOOD LUCK!

WINNER WILL BE POSTED HERE AND NOTIFIED BY E-MAIL

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Monday, September 12, 2011

Why I wrote Land of Falling Stars

4:45 PM |

Posted by Keta Diablo |

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AVAILABLE on NOOK & KINDLE

OCTOBER 5th HERE: Keta's Amazon Page

I love historical romance, always have. I cut my teeth reading Rosemary Rogers and Kathleen Woodiwiss. Oh-oh, I think I just gave my age away. I remember reading Rogers under the covers with a flashlight, my heart thundering in my chest while I waited to see what Steve would do to Ginny once he discovered her latest faux pas.

Today, I read everything Joanna Bourne releases (Spymaster’s series) and Helen Kirkman. At least once a year, I rediscover the magical characters in a book called The Windflower (a pirate novel) by husband and wife team Laura London. Alas, they never wrote a sequel. I would have devoured books about their secondary characters, particularly Cat.

It’s little wonder when I started my writing career, I gravitated toward Historical Romance. The inspiration behind my books arrive through various vehicles—a dream or by people-watching. For Land of Falling Stars, I read a true-life article about the Civil War, specifically cousins who lived in the same county and fought for opposite sides. This was not unusual at the time. County boundaries were murky and sympathizers for the North frequently lived in the South—and vice versa.

Let’s draw an imaginary line across this great country we live in, and let’s imagine a civil war breaks out. You live in the upper part of the US, but have close family and friends who live in the bottom half. Near the boundary lives a horde of people who aren’t sure where they stand but are forced to choose. And they do choose for one reason or another.

The story about the cousins fascinated me. I couldn’t fathom how one could pick up arms and fight against their brethren. I spun off from that plot in Land of Falling Stars. What if two childhood friends grew up and fell in love with the same woman? What if one man fought for the North, the other the South? What if the bond between the three was stronger than cement and not even war could separate the vast love they held for one another?

Thus, Land of Falling Stars was born. This is the story of Jesse, Gavin and Sophia. They lived in Virginia, a state with citizens deeply loyal to the South in all respects. Yet, Gavin’s family hailed from the North. You can see where this is going, right?

LOFS is not a complicated story; but a simple account of what happens between people when war knocks on our door. It’s a narrative of friendship, loyalty, betrayal and vast, abiding love. We won’t always like the characters’ actions or motives in the book, but to truly understand them and the world they’ve been thrust into, we must put our modern belief system aside and walk in their shoes of the time.

I hope you enjoy reading Land of Falling Stars as much as I enjoyed writing the book.

My best to you with sincere wishes that all your reads take you on memorable journeys you’ll never forget,

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Labels: civil war, diablo, erotic romance, erotic romance historical, land of falling stars |

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Thursday, September 1, 2011

Land of Falling Stars - Coming to you October 5th

1:48 PM |

Posted by Keta Diablo |

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RE-Release of Land of Falling Stars - a best-selling erotic historical (Civil War love triangle). New cover, expanded story!

Download your Romance Trading card below for LAND OF FALLING STARS and share!

WHEN: October 5th

WHERE: Kindle, Nook & Books We Love SPICE!

Watch for it here on my AMAZON AUTHOR PAGE

BLURB:

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

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

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EXCERPT:

Sophia's head snapped up at the sound. On the other side of camp, someone tramped through the woods. She waited for Ricochet to splash through the water or Gavin to call out to her. Anxious moments passed and neither happened. With her arms braced against the floor of the stream, she cocked her head, closed her eyes and listened. One set of footsteps, then another. Her heart beat in bass and a sickening dread found her.

A rush of blood coursed through her veins, pitching her faculties into full alert at the sound of his voice. "Why if it isn't a mermaid, Captain, made in the likeness of Aphrodite."

"Aye, that she is, Connors, but she can't ride three horses."

Step by agonizing step they walked through the water and stood above her.

Someone grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. "Where's your man?"

A calloused hand cupped her chin and moments later, she smelt his foul breath against her cheek. The second voice said, "Speak, girl, you're not out here alone, are you?"

She couldn't tell them about Gavin. Two against one, they would hunt him down and kill him.

"Damn, look at those breasts." The Captain slipped a hand inside her open shirt, his clumsy groping causing her stomach to retch.

Sophia slapped his arm away and tried to wrench free.

"Feisty little bitch, huh? Good, I like my women to scream and buck beneath me."

Pain shot into her brain when he grabbed a lock of her hair and dragged her from the water. "You stand lookout, Connors, and when I'm done, you can have a go at her."

"Why do you get first pickings? I'm the one that spotted her."

"Cuz I'm your superior officer."

The tranquility of the forest shattered. Sophia was too numb to respond to their questions or their rough fondling, much less stop what they were about to do to her. She couldn't see her enemy, couldn't assess their strengths or weaknesses, and didn't know if she lashed out, what she would be lashing out at. When the hand encircled her throat and cut off her airway, she froze.

"I'll be fucked, Connors, she's blind!"

"Blind! How do you know?"

"Look," he said. "She can't see my hand in front of her face."

"Is she mute, too?"

"I reckon." The Captain twisted her head left-to-right. "Hot damn, see no evil, hear no evil. This way she can't identify us."

"Get on with it; I'm hornier than a toad."

He ripped the shirt from her body and delivered a solid blow to the back of her calves, knocking her from her feet. Wresting the trousers from her hips, his heavy body crushed hers.

Through a haze she heard Connors. "Hurry up, Captain, I'm ready to bust my britches over here."

Vaguely aware of his beastial panting while he spread her legs, she prayed for death. Retreating into the deep recesses of her mind, she no longer cared what would become of her. Jesse's death, the fire, and the accident had exacted a heavy toll on her psyche. Gavin would return and she'd be dead or close to it. In essence, she had already died.

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ROMANCE TRADING CARDS