Twilight Thursday

Keta Mixes Up Some Mayhem with the Moonlighters

Author, Keta Diablo, is the author of several books, including, Decadent Deceptions, which was a 2008 Molly Contest Finalist. Other books by her include Carnal Cravings, Land of Falling Stars, Dust and Moonlight, Crossroads and Crossroads Revisited.

I had the pleasure of reading two of Ms. Diablo's books, Decadent Deceptions and Carnal Cravings. I loved both books and still find myself thinking about the characters she created, especially the voyeur scene in Decadent Deceptions. Christ, that was a powerful scene!

Reviews for both books were posted here at Moonlight, Lace and Mayhem. To revisit those reviews, click the following links:

Decadent Deceptions Review

Carnal Cravings Review

Keta notes on her bio page that she loves to garden, read and write. Some of her favorite movies include Legends of the Fall, Man on Fire and Cold Mountain. In my opinion, all are excellent movies. Keta's books can be found at a host of different publishers, including Dark Roast Press, Noble Romance Publishing, Phaze and Ravenous Romance. To learn more about Keta, make sure you visit her links:

Author Home: http://ketadiablo.blogspot.com/
The Stuff of Myth and Men: http://thestuffofmythandmen.blogspot.com/
Keta’s Keep: http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com/
Keta on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ketadiablo

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First, let me thank you for guest blogging with us Moonlighters today, Keta, and for kicking off our month long Paranormal event! It's an honor to have you with us! Now, let’s get started with the juicy stuff. *laughs* Okay, so we didn't ask any juicy or scandalous questions, but some fun trivia about you is just as good:

1. Do you have a movie that you must watch every Halloween? What's your favorite scary movie? Do you have a favorite scary character or character type?

I’m not a fan of horror in the grisly sense, but I do love psychological thrillers. Two movies I watch at least once a year are Silence of the Lambs and Copycat with Sigourney Weaver. For me, these movies are terrifying, yet fascinating.

2. Do you have any Halloween traditions like decorating your house, having house parties, wearing costumes, etc.?

We do decorate the house and, of course, there is our annual trip to the local pumpkin patch followed by a carving contest in the family. Over the years, the carving process has resulted in some unique, elaborate designs.

3. If you do you dress up for Halloween, what will you be dressed up as this year? What was your all-time most favorite costume that you ever wore? Why?

The costume I enjoyed the most was the “witch” persona I adopted several years back when we attended a costume party. We’re talking green skin, warts, hook nose and long gray hair! My niece and nephew were terrified!

4. Are you superstitious? Do you find yourself knocking on wood or throwing salt over your shoulder? If not one of these two, what is your superstition?

I’m more superstitious about dates. For instance, I’ve never liked the Ides of March, yet can’t remember anything particularly horrific happening to me on that date. I’m also wary of Friday the 13th, and while I don’t go out of my way to stay home on these days, I’m aware of their existence.

5. Do you believe in ghosts? If so, have you ever had a ghostly encounter and tell us about it?

I absolutely believe in spirits. When I was four, we lived in a house that was about a hundred years old. I was terrified to sleep alone in the back bedroom off the kitchen and insisted a little man sat in a corner between the coving and the ceiling. I still remember him, and liken him to a faery-like being. At the time my mom insisted there was no one in the room, and I couldn’t understand why she couldn’t see him. Psychologists maintain animals and children can see ghosts/spirits because they haven’t read about them or know nothing about them.

6. Tell us 3 funny or strange things that happened to you or someone you know on past Halloweens.

When my youngest child was in 7th grade, I decided to dress up as an old man and pick him up from school. Remember, at that age, the tiniest thing that called attention to you was mortifying. My son came out of school with his usual broad smile when he recognized my car, but then he saw the old man sitting behind the wheel and his smile vanished instantly. He knew it was me, but he was irate – walked right past me and I had to follow him for two blocks before he’d get into the car. I laughed all the way home, but he didn’t. Only now does he say it’s one of his favorite memories of Halloween.

7. If you could be any paranormal creature, what would it be and why?

A time-walker or traveler for sure. I love history and have so many questions about what happened back when. I’d love to see some of these eras first-hand.




Now, let’s get to your writing:

8. Why the paranormal genre? What was the draw for you?

My fantasy/time-travel, Dust and Moonlight, really came about as a fluke. I accepted an offer from an author friend to contribute to an anthology and wrote the short story. It came out so well, I dropped from the anthology (with her blessing) and lengthened it into a full novel. Again, it seemed natural to write about a character journeying into the past because of my love of history.

9. If you could describe your paranormal writing with a word or phrase, what would it be? Please be creative and look beyond words like vampire, werewolf, etc., and delve into the core of your writing to tell us what word or phrase you want readers to take with them when they've finished reading your story.

Depth of plot and characters.

10. Do you prefer playing tricks on people or bestowing treats? Does that show through in your writing? If so, how?

I’m much better at bestowing treats than playing tricks, and liken that to bestowing surprises on my readers rather than throwing a big monkey-wrench into the plot. I’ve read some books that have completely turned south at the end and I didn’t like the direction they took. Here you’ve spent all this time getting to know your characters and think you know how they would react in a certain situation, then suddenly the author whips something on you that is totally out of character or doesn’t belong in the story at all.

11. Who decides what creatures you write about, you or your muse? What kind of influence do you have over your story, or is the muse always the one stirring the cauldron?

I like to think I have most of the control in the direction a story will take or what my characters’ idiosyncrasies are. I do admit that in one book I was determined to kill off one of the main characters and when it came time to do it, I just couldn’t get the words on paper. So . . . is that my muse taking over?

12. What was the creature you had the most fun creating and why?

Owen, the sin eater from The Sin Eater’s Prince in the Boys of the Bite Anthology. I was totally entranced reading about the real sin eaters that existed in England, Wales and Scotland. While they weren’t really creatures in the physical sense because they were real, they were shunned by the local villagers and considered sub-human.

13. If you had the opportunity to meet just one of your characters in real life, who would it be and why? Which of your characters would you never want to meet under any circumstance and why?

I’d love to meet either Morgan from Decadent Deceptions or Gavin from Land of Falling Stars. Obviously, I’m biased, but I think my heroes are decadently wicked and gorgeous. Who wouldn’t want to meet such men?




BLURB:

About Decadent Deceptions: A 2008 Molly Contest Finalist – Erotica category


Daring and desperate to win Morgan’s love, Olivia Breedlove embarks on a reckless folly. But everything backfires when Morgan remains one step ahead of her and the game ventures down a path of duplicity and murder.A decade ago, Morgan was a heartbeat away from taking Olivia’s virginity. Her father, Thaddeus, intervened and threatened to meet him over pistols if he so much as looked at his daughter again. But now, Thaddeus is dead and Morgan has no intention of ignoring the ravenous hunger he’s harbored for the blasted woman for ten years.One way or the other, he will quench this burning desire and make her his forever.

Special Content Alert: Voyuerism


EXCERPT:

Chapter Seven

Morgan had been so lost in thought he almost failed to see Olivia ducking into the mercantile across the street in town.

Almost.

Silently he thanked his lucky stars. He intended to have a drink prior to calling on Madame Rousseau, but now that fate had intervened and placed the Goddess of his breath in his path, he altered course. Pushing the door open amid a melodic chiming of bells, he searched for her down every aisle. Finally he found her among the bolts of fabric, her brow creased, her selective eyes glancing between the terra-cotta and its sibling cinnamon.

“Why don’t you purchase both?” he said from over her shoulder.

She turned and looked at him, her searching gaze a mixture of surprise, and dare he think, subtle delight?

“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’re 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 and said, “Good day to you, then.”

Denying her a chance to bolt, he grabbed 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?”

“Don’t look at me like that. You know you’re itching to return.”

A stillness fell over her.

“Why not with me?” It wasn’t easy to torment her while she looked at him with those green-spoked eyes, but he wanted to be near her, had an overwhelming urge to watch firsthand her sudden interest in carnal lust. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid,” he said.

His words effectuated the desired response. Her spine stiffened and her chin swept up.
“You’re the one who should be afraid,” she said smugly. “Especially since you can’t control, shall we say, a certain growing interest whenever a woman merely falls into your lap.”

It was clearly a taunt, and oh, how he wanted to toss her onto the floor, take her like a common camp follower and show her she had been equally affected. Realizing any such 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’re mad,” she said on a half-laugh. “People will see us; it’s broad daylight.”

“No, they won’t.” 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 and slip into there.” She glanced around the room furtively. “I double-dare you,” he said with emphasis.

“You’re certain no one will know?”

He crossed his heart, and without waiting for her to change her mind, led her through the back door and into the alleyway. Arriving at Immortelles within minutes, he ushered her through the door and down the hall to a room. It had all happened so quickly, he had a hard time reconciling that 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.

“Don’t tell me.” She paused at the door, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You have a standing appointment to voyeur? You can just 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 said and 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’m not one of them,” she said with narrowed eyes. “In fact, I find it a little crass.”

“Pretend I am not here.”

“And how am I supposed to accomplish that with the holes mere inches apart?” She looked at the seating arrangement. “And the chairs nearly on top of one another?”

“Sit,” he said calmly, 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 inwardly 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 can hardly enjoy the performance from the mezzanine.”

The door opened moments later. Morgan didn’t know the man, but that fact wasn’t unusual. Hundreds of transients passed through the brothel monthly, in addition to the regulars. If women thought this particular John handsome, it would be in a rugged way. The rough-hewn features, textured skin and dark, wavy hair that hung a bit unruly around the collar of his shirt definitely lacked polish. He cut a fine figure, however, with wide shoulders, trim waist, and underneath the trousers, Morgan imagined, strong, well-muscled legs.

From the corner of his eye, he studied Olivia, and at the same time cussed the betraying blood pumping to his cock. That’s all it took, one look at her face or her exquisite profile, the slightly upturned nose and high cheekbones, long lashes and rose-petal lips, and the cursed member between his legs saluted the ceiling. Perhaps this wasn’t such 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 he and Liv?

Worse, she seemed intent on the man, her lashes half-shuttered, her bottom lip parted expectantly. What did she think at this moment? Damnation, he didn’t want to go down that road. What if she imagined he waited for her, hoped that soon his hands would caress her body, his rough mouth would brush against her naked, dew-kissed skin? Christ! What had he been thinking? There was no point in pleading a sudden headache or inventing feeble excuses as if he’d forgotten some important appointment. Olivia Breedlove would see clear through his lies and 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, and so did his ledgers. Her willowy legs went on for miles, and her firm, pert breasts and sensually 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 his hands in it. She undressed, and Olivia licked her bottom lip.

And 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 craftsman 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 on the street. 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 it deliberately, tweaking it until she moaned her pleasure. Drawing him tightly 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. Annie purred her bliss as she arched her back and spread her legs wide, affording him full access to explore her thoroughly.

“Exquisite, isn’t she,” 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 that it probably leaked, as well.

The man walked to the chair near the bed and settled into it, drawing Annie into his lap so she faced him. He took a breast in his mouth and suckled her, eliciting a strident stream of broken cries from her lips. His hands stroked and caressed her naked buttocks, his fingers entering her from behind. She arched up, bearing her weight on her knees while she straddled him, gyrating wildly above the wicked assault of his fingers inside her as his mouth sucked hungrily on her hard, peaked nipple.

Despite his vow, Morgan looked at Olivia, the blood pounding hard in his brain. Her lips parted slightly, she drew a shuddering breath, and her pale, staid face contrasted sharply against the flames of desire in her moist, jade eyes. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, but knew if he did, in the next moment he’d toss her under him and take her, without remorse, without regret. And she would let him. He saw it in the deep fathoms of her pupils, heard it in the decadent whisper of lust enveloping them.

Olivia looked away quickly. Was she terrified she might reveal her innermost fantasies, horrified to think he could see into her exposed soul? Morgan withdrew his gaze, too, and returned to watching the couple in the room. The man clasped Annie’s hips and plunged into her. In a restless state of delirium, her sweat-damp body rode him hard. With a shiver, she threw her head back, her long black hair cascading down to her waist.

Olivia rose from the chair to a stream of fractured moans from Annie, and with the look of a trapped minx, made a bolt for the door. On his feet in a heartbeat and knocking over the chair in the process, Morgan caught her wrist and spun her around.

“Let me go,” she said with ragged breath. “I’ve seen enough.”

Her unearthly beauty nearly felled him, not to mention the white-hot flames of desire licking every cell and pore in his body. “You’re such a little hypocrite, Liv. Voyeurism is perfectly acceptable, providing no one knows you engage in it . . . or enjoy it, is that it?”

“I must have been out of mind to agree to come here with you.”

“Why? Does it strike too close to the heart?”

“Oh, you really are a despicable, heartless scoundrel, a lowdown bounder who preys on helpless women.”

He couldn’t help the laugh, despite her outraged expression. “You? Helpless? If I remember correctly, you were the one who begged Cain and I to assist you in this sullied endeavor.”

“Sullied endeavor!” she said. “Why is it men can bed every woman from London to Luxemburg—married, maiden, or widowed—and no one bats an eye?” She trembled. “They frequent brothels and gentleman’s clubs, drink far too much, gamble their estates away, and society looks the other way.” She pushed him. “Huh, why is that, Morgan Gatewood? And more to the point, how dare you refer to this as a sullied endeavor!”

“Liv, I’m not like—”

“Turn me loose this instant.” She yanked her elbow from his grip. “And thank you very much, I shall find my own way back to the phaeton.”

“Find your way back to the phaeton, like hell; not until I’m done with you.”

* * *

You can find Keta Diablo on the Internet at the following places:

Author Home: http://ketadiablo.blogspot.com/

The Stuff of Myth and Men: http://thestuffofmythandmen.blogspot.com/

Keta’s Keep: http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com/

Keta on Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/ketadiablo

Be sure to leave Keta a comment, as she has agreed to give a lucky winner an e-copy of Boys of Bite!!! Judging by her other books, you won't want to miss this one!