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Sunday, February 7, 2010


Please help me welcome Diane Taylor into the moonlight today! Diane’s newest release is Toymaker, a short erotic read published by Shadowfire Press. Diane is multi-published and you can learn more about her and her books at her website:


Q. We all know that February hosts one of the most famous holidays for lovers…Valentine’s Day. It’s a romantic holiday showing your love through candlelit dinners, sending flowers, giving candy or even jewelry as gifts. But, at Moonlight, Lace & Mayhem, we believe love should be expressed all year long. So, if someone were romancing you, what little things could he/she do for you to show their love?

A: Little things. Like saying, “Okay, how about we go out to a movie?” or surprising things like a backrub, or springing for a day at a spa while the person in question cleans up the house so she arrives in time for that candle light dinner. Jewelry and flowers are nice, but it's small things like, “I love you, now go relax while I take care of things.”

My husband, now separated, used to say, “Honey, I'm not worthy of you.” when I asked him why, he said:

“Because no matter what I give you, no matter how cheap or insignificant it is, you treat it as if it were the finest gemstone in the world.”

To that I said, “That's because it came from you.” The rest of that night is sort of a blur because we spent the weekend in Vegas and visited one of my favorite shops. Don't ask for details, ya ain't getting any. :D

Q. Like all holidays, Valentine’s Day is too commercialized and in these economic times, many are shifting to homemade gifts. If you could give or receive one homemade gift to express your love, what would it be? Why?

A: I always love to grow things. Flowers are nice, but I like herbs. I think the best homemade gift I'd like to receive is herb seeds and planters. My homemade gift of choice to give.. which I do on occasion, is mix up herbal bath salts to give away to people.

Q. What is the most romantic act you have ever experienced?

A: MMMM... a toughie. The most romantic act? Riding on a Harley behind a hard bodied man to a camping event in a forest and eating dinner by firelight.

Q. If you could build the “perfect” mate, what physical attributes and personality traits would be a must?

A: Well, I like my men rugged, a little frayed around the edges, and a voice. You know that voice, ladies. The deep, gravelly one that makes your toes curl? Think Hugh Jackman, Vin Diesel, Gerard Butler... Okay the last is the accent to die for.. :D

For personality, I like a free spirit from time to time, but I also want respect for me as a person. I like being able to do things and have a supportive partner saying, “Okay, that's good, but try this and see how it works.” You know? Oh, and I want him to actually 'see' me as a woman, not stare at my chest and think it's going to talk to him.

Q. Romance books have a bad rap and are often misunderstood. Recently, I heard someone call it “porn for women”. How would you respond to this?

A: Who is this person? Where's my rolled up newspaper.. Bad dog.. Bad Bad... no scooby snacks!!!

Okay, sorry, heheh couldn't resist. “Porn for women?” Puh-leeze. If they think Romance books are bad, they've never read some of the garbage I've seen in certain unnamed type stores!

There's a big difference between Romance and Porn, and mostly because it's that women like more than just the descriptive sweaty sheets.. as it were. Note: Hubby used to have 'those' type of books in his own repitoire.. so I know exactly what I'm talking about.

For me, Porn is to Romance what a Ford Gremlin is to a Corvette Stingray. No comparison. :D

Q. Now, let’s get to your writing, Diane…If you could use only one sentence to convince someone to buy your book, what would you say?

A: Enter the realm of the imagination, the darkness, the heated desires that have been contained for too long and set them free.

Q. Do you prefer chocolate, jewelry or body massages? Is your preference reflected in your writing? If so, how?

A: Oh now you're getting difficult! I prefer both Chocolate and Massages. The first is because I must feed my sweet tooth or my Muse will get PMS, the second because I never get any massages.

I've never used either of them in a book, but I may just do it one of these times. But if I'm deprived of either coffee or chocolate, my characters tend to get a bit grumpy.

Q. In your books, are your characters suddenly whacked with Cupid’s Arrow and love ignites? Or does their love slowly blossom throughout the book?

A: LOL, Honestly, it's not love at first sight. More like he think she's harmless, until she shows him how it feels to be on the receiving end of being hit in the squishy bits. From there, the heat builds. I try to put in a few 'almost' scenes before the clothes actually start flying. But it's all in good fun.

Q. Have you ever used real life situations in a book? If so, would you please briefly share the situation? (Please protect the guilty and do not use real names.)

A: Moi? Protect... Okay.. you're right.. we must protect them. 'evil grin' if only from further humilia... ahem.. further torm.. no that's not right... Let's just say to keep them locked in the closet.

I haven't really used any real life situations, per se, but I do have a saying:

Writers don't get mad.. they write books.

Immortality can be a complete pain when you upset a writer. They remember you when the time comes for a truly nasty and humiliating scene where the victim..who looks supsiciously like the person who upset the writer... gets all his major faults handed to him before he becomes a mess on the floor.

Q. Who is your favorite secondary character and why? Will this secondary character become the hero/heroine in an upcoming novel?

A: I really don't have a favorite. They're all my favorites and usually carry a piece of me with them when they are published.

In my first book, Wassail Woes, I introduce Odin, Thor, and Loki to a human mortal... WW is Odin's story while Thor is the secondary character and Loki.. heheh well, Loki will be my third. And yes, Thor will get matched up with a woman in the story I'm writing... keep an eye out in March.

Toymaker I can't really say much about because it isn't a PG book. Trust me, I don't want my book to melt the blog site down with the heat. :D However, I will give you the cover art.. so you can enjoy it as much as I am.


Sandra Mackinon was happy with her life. She had a job, going to college, and a creative outlet for her arts and crafts. Happily devoted to the Celtic Goddess, Druantia, she was content, until her past caught up with her. Five years ago the goddess had rescued her from a power hungry 'coven' and gave her a new start on life.

Now they must use their wits to outsmart the men who want to use her, and the parents who want to save Sandra from herself.


Sandra opened a drawer and pulled out a pair of black jeans and a dark gray t-shirt. “Yes. There’s a couple of shackles and a collar on the rush order list that needs the scrollwork etched into the steel, then tempered.”

Lady Druantia nodded. “Let’s go to the kitchen, food is ready and we can work on my problem.”

Once settled in with the not too surprising eggs and bacon with coffee, Sandra leaned back in her chair. “Goddess, in all of five years that I’ve known you, you have never needed to leave our lifestyle behind closed doors. Tell me what’s wrong.”

The goddess hesitated, looking troubled. “It’s your parents and the coven I rescued you from.”

Sandra frowned at her, a chill walking its way up her spine, “Oooookay. I have a feeling I’m not going to like this topic of discussion considering the first wants to shove me into a Christian mental institution to save me from myself, even though I’m twenty five years old, and the second kidnapped me from my dorm room at the college for a ‘sacrifice’ to whatever god so they could make women their slaves and have ultimate power.”

“Yes, well, number two went to number one and told them that you were being held against your will as a Sexual Slave. Not only that, they’ve convinced your parents to bring in the law on this. Apparently, your parents claim they’d already signed you into the mental institution and you’re listed as an escapee.”

Sandra came to her feet with a shout of rage. “What? What in hell? After five years? They’ve left me alone for five years and now, now they’re doing this?” She shook her head then began to clean up the spilled coffee that had tipped over.

Druantia sighed, “Greed, mostly. According to my brother, Talieson, and Cernunnos, the coven got wind of your particular talents at crafting things. It didn’t matter that you returned to college and finished your Masters in Computer Sciences with a minor degree in history and world religions.” She smiled slightly. “You could probably outdo your parents in Catholicism at this point.”


Wassail Woes by Diane Taylor

What happens when Bah-Humbug meets... Oh.. My!


Jeri Butler is a Druid Pagan, making wassail on the night before Christmas Eve. She's a Solitary, who had just put the mistletoe over the entryway of her home, and had just settled down to do some programming work on her laptop for her job, when a loud sound is heard out front. Opening the door, she comes face to face with, oh my, Kris Odinsen.

He's crashed his bike and has a twisted foot to boot. And to top it off, literally, white hair and an ice blue eye, since the other is covered with an eye-patch. Oh what shall she do?

The holiday has definitely gotten hotter....


And found herself flat on her back in her own driveway with a leather clad man pinning her down. When she tried to look at the reason for this sudden predicament, the man pulled her head into his neck. "Keep your head down." He rumbled into her ear. "My bike just exploded. Give it a few more moments."

Mentally, she groaned. Old Spice. Why did he have to wear Old Spice? The one scent that always drove her insane with desire. Burying her nose in the stranger's neck, she inhaled deeply, savoring the scent. After a moment, his lips began to kiss their way up from her shoulder, giving little love bites in the process.

"Don't tease, woman. I may be in pain, but I am still a man. One who has been away for a very long time."

"I can tell that," she wriggled her hips, feeling the massive bulge press into her body. "But if you don't want the firemen and the cops to think you're trying to rape me, you'd best get off of me so I can help you into the house." She nipped his ear. "Besides, I don't even know your name."

He smiled and rolled off her, then stood. "My name's Kris Odinson."

"I just bet you get a lot of really tasteless holiday jokes."

"A few." He looked off in the distance. "You're right. I can see the lights."

The blare of the sirens became louder as the vehicles approached. Jeri stepped up to his side and under his right arm. "Lean on me and we'll get you inside and off that foot. I'll have enough explaining to do to these lily-white police officers when they find you sitting on my couch and get a good look at the decorations." She blushed at the idea of what the straight-laced community would think of her home. "By the way, I'm Jeri Butler."

"A nice name. I guess you get teased about your name as well." He smiled as theyreached the porch. "Guess I don't have to ask who killed the man of the house."

They grinned at each other and said, in unison, "The Butler did it."

The front door opened and Kris looked up to spot the Mistletoe. A devilish smile came to his face as he looked at her. "You know this is a very interesting place to put a sprig of that mischievous little herb, don't you?"

Jeri grinned impishly. "Well, I had planned on my friends greeting people at the door with kisses. It's a friendly tradition amongst us four people. Everyone else just goes along with it."

"Well then," His shaggy head swooped down to nibble her lower lip, “allow me to be the first kiss for this plant."

Her words of agreement were silenced as his lips claimed hers. Strong arms wrapped themselves around her waist to draw her closer as their tongues met, and caressed. Slowly,he plundered her mouth, turning her blood into molten lava. Groaning, she ran her hands up his back, feeling the tautness of the muscles there as Kris moved to become more demanding.

Sternly, she told the good sense in the back of her mind to go to hell as she gave in to the total sensation of being held by this strange man in the doorway of her home.

Suddenly, her front lawn light up like a red and blue Christmas tree and someone yelled, "Freeze!"

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