Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Sky Tinted Water Releases THIS WEEK!


About Sky Tinted Water

Familial bonds, 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.

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

To see all of Keta’s books visit her

and . . . watch for the sequel


 Coming to a Kindle and Nook near you in March!

Excerpt from Sky Tinted Water - (Rory meets Dawson for the first time:

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

The sound grew louder; her mystical glade drew near. She lifted the limb of a birch obstructing her view and . . . gasped. A man knelt on the opposite banks of the stream. His head bowed toward the water, he cupped a handful in his hands and splashed his chest. She couldn’t see his face, but knew by the broad shoulders and sinewy ropes of his forearms, a young man knelt in the sand. Not one ounce of fat claimed any portion of his exposed torso. Nearby, a white, cotton shirt canopied a crop of scrub brush, and his socks and boots lay to his right. She wondered if he’d remove his trousers next and enter the stream for a swim.

She should make her presence known or at least leave this instant, but she couldn’t convince her legs to obey. Not until she saw his eyes, then she’d leave. They could be brown but then again, perhaps they were deep cobalt, similar to the blue-black of his hair.
Rory drifted into a fantasy dream while he splashed more water under his arms and across that hard, flat abdomen. What a magnificent man. Not one of the young men who’d called on her in Boston compared. Not by a smidgen. Maybe he’d lost his way. Perhaps he’d embarked on the adventure of his life and stopped for a rest. Or maybe the man was an outlaw hiding out from his pursuers. She’d never discover the answer to those questions, and for some reason, the thought saddened her.

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

Still fighting with the bush, she jerked her chin in his direction. Their eyes met and locked. Time passed, one slow heartbeat after another. Deep blue. His eyes were the color of sapphires, his smile—or was it a smirk—one step from heaven. And the mouth, oh, the wide, sensual mouth. For the first time in her life, she hungered for a man’s lips. She imagined them joining hers, tasting, teasing . . . oh, she had to stop thinking about this decadent stranger and do something to free her hair. Dear God, help me. I promise never to spy on another human as long as I live.

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

She shook her head. 

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

Damnation, why hadn’t she thought of a knife? She’d be free from the death grip on her hair by now. With a final, painful wrench, the branch snapped, releasing her from her woodland prison. Turning on her heels, she sprinted through the forest, oblivious to the sounds of fabric tearing, mindless of the sting of branches against her cheeks. She couldn’t allow him to catch her, ask her why she’d been spying on him or worse, kill her with the hunting knife he brandished.

The path loomed ahead. If she made it home in one piece, she’d get down on her knees and thank the Almighty. The wind carried the echo of his voice, “Forest sprite, wait. I won’t harm you. Wait . . . wait . . . .”


Caroline Clemmons said...

You are a terrific writer, Keta. Can't wait to read the book.

Monique DeVere said...

Happy release, Keta!

I loved this book! Here is to many, many sales.

Hugs x