Dark Night of the Moon by Keta Diablo

Literary Nymphs Interview

Title: Dark Night of the Moon

Publisher: Keta Diablo
Genre: Paranormal/Western/Shapeshifter
Release Date: January 15, 2012

Tell us about your latest release

Thank you so much for asking. I'm really excited about the sequel to Holding On To Heaven, DARK NIGHT OF THE MOON, a paranormal shifter. For those who loved my Native American raven-shapeshifter, Where The Rain Is Made, I think they'll also love Dark Night of the Moon, a wolf-shapeshifter. Available here on Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/ketadiablo/e/B002BODURI

Here's the blurb:

Dark Night of the Moon is the second book in the series and the sequel to Holding on to Heaven.

Creed Gatlin flees to Arizona intent on eradicating the haunting memories of his brother’s wife. His brother Brand, presumed dead, resurfaces after a long absence and with his re-emergence, the destinies of those he loves is altered forever.

In a land rife with war and danger, Sage must travel to the village of her husband’s People. There, she is reunited with Crooked Back, the ancient healer. One the long trek back to Full Circle, devious plots are underfoot and peril lurks around every corner for Sage, Lauren and Peter Pa.

Dark Night of the Moon will take you on an unforgettable journey of war, violence, overwhelming grief, and finally, compassion and love.

What inspired the story?

Well, the first story, of course, Holding On To Heaven (more abut this book here on Kindle: http://amzn.to/v03tFa). I left HOTH open at the end, a cliffhanger. I always intended to write a sequel one day. Some reviewers have referred to the story of the McCains and the Gatlins as epic. It would be pretty hard to include all the plots into one book. Number two, I write in several genres, but always seem to gravitate back to Historical and Romance. These books are a hard-sell in the market, not the most popular like paranormal or urban fantasy, but I want to write what I like (selfish, I know). Most of what I read is Historical when I have time, although there's little of that commodity around. LOL.

Here's the blurb for Holding On To Heaven which gives you a little insight to the major plot.

Brothers in love with the same woman -- one the father to her child, the other her husband. An epic historical spanning two generations.

The Civil War has crumbled a Nation, and the Dakota Sioux are on the warpath. While the blazing fires of revolt ravage the countryside, twins, Lauren and Sage McCain are trapped amid the flames of destiny.
Holding on to Heaven is a story of family betrayal, heart-stopping danger, and passionate love, a love that crosses all boundaries and forges all cultures.

* * *

I think I should insert a caveat here so readers know what they're buying. I don't write cookie-cutter characters; they're out of the box, and I most definitely don't write formulaic romance--boy meets girl, boy and girl fall in love, and boy and girl live Happily Ever After. That is just not me and I can't write like that. "Real life" comes with problems, people come with flaws, and although this is fiction, everyone keeps saying the story has to be believable. Here's my question: How can a story be believable if your characters are all the same and your plot is a spin-off from the same old-same old? One reviewer who has read almost all my books put it this way and I think she sums it up perfectly. "Diablo writes out of the box. If you're looking for a standard boy meets girl romance here, you won't find it between the pages of her books. Naughty, naughty author. I highly recommend Diablo as a writer."

EXCERPT:

Set-up: Sage, one of the heroines, takes an arrow meant for the wolf.

Late in the afternoon, Sage emerged from the tipi. She didn't have to search for Looks Back. He lurked outside the lodge like a Roman soldier guarding a sacred tomb. She pointed to the woods -- a sign she needed to relieve her bladder.
A bow and a quiver of arrows hung from his left shoulder and tucked into the waistband of his leggings, the shiny handle of his long knife glistened beneath the hot sun.
With Looks Back dogging the heels of her moccasins, Sage selected a clearing surrounded by tall pines and dense underbrush. Respecting her privacy, the brave turned his back, but kept his sharp eyes peeled on the outskirts of the clearing.
The branches on a nearby scrub rustled. No doubt a critter searching for his next meal. The eerie feeling someone was watching her claimed her again, a sensation she couldn't ignore. She turned her head toward the noise and uttered a quiet gasp when her eyes met the yellow eyes of the wolf. "Walking Spirit," she whispered, her heart pounding.
Time hung suspended on the boundary of sanity and absurd. Reason told her men didn't turn into wolves, and yet she knew in her heart her man had.
Looks Back spun around, his keen sense alerted to danger. He pulled an arrow from his quiver as Sage scrambled to her feet and adjusted her clothing. His eyes narrowed; he notched and arrow drew back on the sinew.
"No!" she screamed and lunged toward the shrub. A white-hot pain shot through her chest. She looked down and watched the blood soak her doeskin dress. My blood? Sage fell to her knees and then crumbled to the ground, the canopy of pine branches spinning overhead. "Run, Walking Spirit, run," she gasped between pain-filled breaths.
Looks Back loomed over her, his face masked in terror. He drew her into his arms and sprinted back to camp, stumbling over his own feet as he entered Mad Bear's lodge. Laying her on her berth of soft branches he knelt beside her and stared at the arrow embedded in her torso.
Pain choked her when she turned to look at him. "You must pull the arrow
out."
Tremors claimed his lean body when the howl of the wolf split the still air. He rose and paced the tipi, his eyes locked on the opening.
"You must pull it out! If you don't, I'll die, and so will you when Mad Bear returns."
He came to an abrupt halt, his face white with fear. "I can not do this thing."
"You can and you will." She didn't believe for a minute he cared about her welfare, but she had to convince him if he didn't remove the arrow Mad Bear would kill him when he returned. That was her only chance.
He knelt beside her again, sweat from his forehead trickling into his dark eyebrows. He jumped when the haunting lament from the wolf echoed around them.
"Soon I will lose consciousness from the loss of blood. You must hurry --break it off close to the skin."
His voice trembled. "Then what must I do?"
"Dig the arrow out with your knife."
"No, no. Do not ask this of Looks Back."
Struggling for breath, she rose to an elbow and stared into his dark eyes. "You listen to me. I'll be dead by nightfall if you don't. My medicine pouch, there." She pointed to a shelf over her berth. Find the bone needle and pull a strong hair from your horse's tail to sew up the wound when you're done."
The brave rose, pulled the pouch from the shelf and handed it to her. She dumped the contents on the floor and held a twisted stem before him. "Cat's claw. Once the arrow is removed, place the leaves over the wound and
cover it with a wet rag."
He shook his head.
"No more talk." She softened her voice. "If you plan to grow old, you must remove it. Now, find a leather thong I can put between my teeth, and be quick."

* * *

Dark Night of the Moon is available here on Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/ketadiablo/e/B002BODURI

Where can we find your website? Keta's Keep: http://ketaskeep.blogspot.com

Where can we find you on Twitter? @ketadiablo

~ Website ~ Blog ~ The Stuff of Myth and Men ~

~*~

Where the Rain is Made ~*~

Blood Moon,Yellow Sky by A.M. Burns

Literary Nymphs Interview

Author: A.M. Burns

Title: “Blood Moon, Yellow Sky”
Publisher: Mystichawker Press
Genre: Urban Fantasy/paranormal romance
Release Date: 12/18/11

What inspired the story?

I started writing the book several years ago, and at the time there weren’t a lot of gay paranormal things that I could find. I was shooting for sorta of a gay version of some of the popular series out there like the early Anita Blake or Harry Dreseden books. My original Draft had a lot more vampires, but they got changed out. Now the main character is a dragon, and that change brought him to life in ways that being a vampire never did. The response from readers has been amazing. I am hard at work on the sequel which should be out shortly.

EXCERPT:

Alex pushed back at everything trying to shield himself from all the outside forces that pounded at him, at us. His shield pushed at our tenuous link and only our continued physical contact held it in place. I tried to strengthen his shields, to protect us and at the same time calm his mind, get him to focus again. I reached out for him by totally entering the astral with him. Here too, our hands linked as in the physical world. He was running. I stopped him. A myriad of emotions played across his features. He brought our linked hands up to his mouth and kissed my fingers. I couldn’t pull back. The lust from the room and my own heart combined and the force was too strong. He moved his hands up my arms. He couldn’t break the link. His astral hands moved up to my shoulders and he pulled me into an embrace, totally losing himself in the emotions permeating the room.

His kiss was warm and tender. We held it as our astral bodies sought to become one. I returned the kiss. I couldn’t help myself. I knew this was not the time, place or conditions, but the lust was too strong. The feel of his body next to mine felt so right. It’d been too long since I held another in my arms for even a moment of passion. His body responded with a lust of its own. I glanced down, and hoped that the astral body was an accurate representation of the physical in this case. Then an idea came to me.

I surrendered to the lust from the room and totally opened the door to my own desires. The feelings I had every time Alex walked into a room. The pain I felt, leaving him alone in his bed last night. I pushed at him with all that lust as I crushed him to my body. My lust was stronger than that from the outside and pushed it back. Alex apparently saw my intentions and copied me. His intensity increased and was almost my undoing, but I kept one thought in the back of my mind. I wanted him somewhere other than this filthy couch in this place where the human predators prowled too close to us. The hope for perfection kept that strand of control thinner than a spider’s web, but just as strong.

When the emotions retreated far enough, I pulled us out of the astral plane and back to our bodies. As the sensations of my physical body came back to me, I realized I was sprawled across Alex’s lap. His regular breathing felt good through the fabric of my shirt and the heat from his body felt natural and very right. The next second, his breathing changed slightly as he emerged from his trance. For a moment, he lingered where he was, but moved one hand to trace the contours of my arm that hung to the floor. His body responded to the action, and to my surprise, mine did, too. I caught his hand in mine and held it close as I sat up.

I sat next to him on the couch for a moment in silence, still holding his hand. As in the astral world, he brought it up to his lips and kissed it softly. He looked at me with soft green eyes that held no mischief, only deep emotions. “Tal.” He started, but I pressed our hands against his lips.

“Later.” I moved in close and kissed him lightly on lips, his scent filled me. I wanted that aroma by me always.

I started to pull away, but he held me close and kissed me back with passion and need.

Where can we find your website?

www.amburns.com

Thanks for this opportunity. 

Andy Burns

A.M. Burns

www.amburns.com

Blacker than Black by Rhi Etzweiler

Literary Nymphs Interview

Author: Rhi Etzweiler

Title: Blacker Than Black
Publisher: Riptide Books
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Release Date: 23 January 2012

What inspired the story?

 Pure and simple, “Blacker Than Black” is a genderfuck urban fantasy. It’s an engaging exploration of labels, roles, and the individual’s perception when forced to set these aside. It began as a challenge to step outside my comfort zones as a writer – it’s written in first person, present tense – and evolved into a journey that challenged me to redefine my comfort zones on a number of different levels.

EXCERPT:

[If you haven’t read it yet, the previous excerpt is over here at It’s Raining Men (http://rainingmenamen.blogspot.com).]

Chapter Nine, continued:

I grimace, rooted to my spot on the marble floor for the space of a heartbeat. For some reason I can’t quite define, I’m disappointed Garthelle maintained such an excessive distance from me. Disappointed, and grateful. Relieved I don’t have to struggle with the warring responses of lust and fear. I’m not in the mood for a tug-of-war this evening.

It’s my sister’s turn to grab hold and drag me in her wake. “I know this is rather disconcerting for you,” she mutters over her shoulder, “considering how he gorged on you just two days ago. But please, Black . . . please try to be professional, for all our sakes.”

Fuck. I hadn’t even thought of that. Two days, and the vamp’s chi is still thrumming in my veins like a sugar high. The edge is gone, but . . . In the past, with any other john, I’d be back on the boulevard, back to good. Maybe still feeling a faint tug, a tenuous awareness, but not anything of this caliber. Garthelle owns me, though. I’ve no choice in the matter.

“You’re scaring me, Red.” I pull on her to snare her attention.

The vampire is far enough ahead; if he can hear us, he’s playing ignorant. I don’t think he can. I watch him, looking for any shift or tensing in his unconscious body language. There’s nothing. He keeps walking down the corridor even when Jhez stops and turns to face me. Track lighting along the floor throws strange shadows over the contours of her face, makes the masonry walls resemble abstract art.

She offers a dim smile at my use of the impromptu nickname. Her gaze flicks over my face and tense shoulders, and she reaches up to cup my cheeks. Her forehead rests against mine as she stares into my eyes. “They can sense fear, remember?” I swallow, my mouth parched, and nod. “Center yourself. Garthelle gains nothing from endangering you, or me, under his own roof. And he’s definitely looking to get something out of this.” A grimace twists at one corner of her mouth, gone just as quickly. Jhez isn’t so certain of her attempt to reassure me. “Suck it up, bucko.”

Just as she releases me, Garthelle clears his throat nearby. As focused as I am, the sound nearly makes me jump out of my skin. “It is easy to become lost in this place.”

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, turning my attention inward. Pooling energy into my center. Jhez takes me by the elbow and guides me down the hall after Garthelle. Even with my eyes closed, I know precisely where he is. It takes effort to force the awareness away and focus on gathering myself.

“Is he well?” Garthelle’s neutral tone makes my senses perk up. I imagine she’s taking the opportunity to glare at him.

“He’ll be fine.” Her grip tightens a fraction, fingertips digging into my biceps. The desire to laugh surges, and I shove it back down into my stomach along with the rest of the energy I’m siphoning from my extremities.

Silence reigns, thankfully, only disturbed by the tattoo of our footsteps until Jhez stops me with a slight tug. I open my eyes, exhale slowly. Dark mahogany doors loom before us.

“Here we are.” Garthelle’s shoulders tense, and a tingle of discomfort slides over my aura from his general direction. “Stay close to me and don’t wander off for any reason.” He looks back over his shoulder, gaze jagging over each of us. “Follow my directions to the letter and you’ll be fine.”

He pushes one of the doors inward, walking through and standing aside to hold it open. Jhez’s reassuring touch falls away as she follows.

Garthelle studies me, rather intently, as I walk through the door and step aside. He moves closer, pushing the door closed, but his gaze doesn’t waver. The piercing quality I’ve grown accustomed to isn’t present. With him so close, his aura tangles with mine along the fringes. It feels colored with the same concern I’m reading in his expression.

His lips part slightly, as though to say something. But he doesn’t. A trill of laughter from somewhere within the room breaks his focus, and he shifts away. With his gaze no longer trapping me, I turn to take in his party. Tensing involuntarily, pulling my aura tight and close. Barely resisting the urge to fold my arms over my stomach as another defensive barrier between the congregated lyche and my tightly pooled energy.

I’d expected vampires waiting to pounce on us the moment we stepped inside. Instead, they’re scattered in small groups through the space and appear generally preoccupied.

Strategically placed ottomans, benches, and couches partition the large room—and the crowd of guests—into more intimate groups. Nothing gaudy or glaring here; subtle flashes of muted color snag attention amongst the dark tones of mahogany, navy, umber, and forest. Walls of polished wood paneling glow in the generous caress of firelight. Spanning halfway to the ceiling, the hearth roars with an impressively hungry blaze. The air is only pleasantly warm, not stifling as I would have expected from such a massive heat source.

And there are people everywhere. Cozily situated on furniture, loitering in groups, even lounging on the deep shag rug in front of the hearth. I’d envisioned a simple, intimate gathering of a dozen vampires. This isn’t it. More like thirty, without bothering to attempt a headcount.

Taking in the ambiance of the room, the quality of the decor, the lethargy of the vampires, I smile. “Now this is more like it.”

Jhez laughs.

Garthelle leads us to the far corner of the room along a winding path through various gaggles of conversation. A small gathering of six is scattered over a private grouping of couches. The corner tables are crowded with a collection of empty and half-full glasses, and one person lies sprawled on the floor in their midst.

A vampire in energy thrall, from the looks of it. Or a very stoned Nightwalker, which I wouldn’t immediately discount; I’m not close enough to sense the difference. Some of them like to feed from us when we’re in that semi-lucid state of influence. I guess it would make for an . . . attractive experience, under the right circumstances. Or, it could.

Garthelle watches me study the individual on the floor, who’s staring at some distant point on the high ceiling with a heavy-lidded gaze. I wonder what they see. He steps closer to me, motions Jhez toward an unoccupied couch.

“Have you ever done that before?” His curiosity is too strong to resist, judging by the sensation tingling in my veins. The energy I took from him resonates through me like the hum of his car—the purr of a kitten vibrating the hand that strokes it.

“Depends.” I admire the honey blonde hair fanned out across the black shag.

“On what?”

“On the substance.”

He glances down. “Meth, most likely.”

“Ah. No.”

One of his black brows arches up his forehead. “What do you use?”

“More naturally-occurring substances.” I flash a smile at him.

“We’ve plenty to choose from. Would it help you relax?”

I roll my shoulders, not certain if the movement is a shrug or a dismissive gesture. “Yes, it would. But it won’t help me do my job.” I walk over and settle onto the couch next to Jhez, who rolls her eyes and jerks her head in the direction of the couch opposite us.

Two vampires, sharing a nibble. Each time they draw a tendril of energy from the young man between them, his body twitches involuntarily. I twist around, stretching out on the couch to rest my head in my sister’s lap. There’s something about watching them feed that unsettles me. Especially when their victim has no clue how to manage the torrential level of sensations coursing through his body. Immature. Amateur. Grotesque, after so many years.

Don’t forget to leave a comment with your email address to enter the drawings! Look for the next excerpt that picks up where this one leaves off, tomorrow on Louisia Bacio’s blog (http://louisabacio.blogspot.com). Or, if you can’t wait, get your own copy of “Blacker Than Black” over here at Riptide.

For more info on Rhi’s writings:

Email address: RhiAnon.Etzweiler@gmail.com

Website: http://www.RhiAnonEtzweiler.com

Blog: http://RhiAnonEtzweiler.blogspot.com

Twitter: @musefodder

Facebook Profile: here

Goodreads Profile: here

Amazon Author Page: here

Google+ Profile: here

Get “Dark Edge of Honor” here

Take Me Home by Sloan Parker

Literary Nymphs Interview

Author: Sloan Parker

Title: Take Me Home

Publisher: Loose Id

Genre: LGBT Suspense

Release Date: December 13, 2011

Tell us about your new release

Take Me Home is a friends-to-lovers story that takes place during the six days leading up to Christmas. Here’s the short blurb: Ten years after their one and only night in each other’s arms, best friends Kyle and Evan finally give in to passion and new sexual roles while trapped in a blizzard and solving a mystery as they head home for the holidays.

What inspired the story?

This story came to me one day while I was taking a shower. I have no idea what I’d been thinking about (other than I knew I wanted to write a friends-to-lovers story at some point). An hour after that shower, I had several pages of ideas and had flushed out the main premise. At that point I knew Take Me Home would be about two friends taking a journey home for the holidays. They were going to explore a relationship and new sexual roles while they figured out just how much they really did care for each other, and figured out why people wanted to steal an old journal one of them carried with him. From that moment on, I was driven to write Kyle and Evan’s story.

EXCERPT:

Evan shivered. Which made no sense. He was still warm from the run, the sweat on his skin not even dry yet.

Kyle took another step. Evan wanted him to stop. He wanted to shout all the reasons why this had to stop, before it got started, wanted to tell Kyle not to move another inch.
He didn't.

And Kyle didn't stop coming at him until they were practically touching, Kyle staring down at him.

Evan tried to focus on Kyle's words, on the news about the journal and his grandpa, but all he could think about was what he'd seen when he'd walked into the apartment: Kyle, all skin and taught muscles, wearing only his tight-as-sin white underwear, the briefs stretched over his cock, and the way Kyle had looked at him in the dim light of the hallway.

Just once. He's leaving anyway. Evan closed his eyes and forced himself to concentrate on the conversation. He looked up at Kyle again. "Are you okay?"

Yeah." Kyle said the word with a slight curve of his lips. He took a step back and reclined against the wall, looking casual, like he was about to flirt with a bartender for a free drink.

 "After I read it, I was thinking about that night in the motel room in Iowa on our first drive out here." He slowly swung his head in Evan's direction. "Do you remember that night?"

Evan nodded.

"Do you ever think about it?" Kyle's voice was barely a whisper.
Up until a few months ago, Evan hadn't let himself, but since he'd moved in with Kyle...

"Sometimes."

"Like right now?"

"Yeah."

Kyle slid along the wall, traveling the last remnants of space between them. "Ev, I've been waiting ten years to finish what we started." He pushed off the wall and turned until they were face-to-face again, his dark eyes unflinching as he leaned in. He stopped before their lips touched. The heat of that mouth and body so close stoked the fire inside Evan.

His own body reacted, his cock pushing at his shorts. He wanted to shove Kyle against the wall and kiss him until morning, do everything he'd ever dreamed of when it came to touching Kyle, everything he ached to feel about the man.

The smile Kyle gave him next wasn't the usual cocky one he'd used with countless guys over the years. He pressed forward and slid his lips along Evan's skin from the base of his neck to his earlobe, leaving a trail of goose bumps in his wake. He lingered over Evan's ear and whispered, "You smell so damn good. I want to fuck you, Ev."

Evan shivered again. "We shouldn't..." He couldn't say more. Didn't want to. The time for talking was over. Kyle ran the tip of his tongue along the outside of Evan's ear, and Evan instinctively moved closer. His breath hitched with the touch of Kyle's bare abs against him. Why had he worn a T-shirt to go running?

Using only the weight of his body, Kyle turned them until Evan's back was against the hall wall, then flattened his palms to the wall on either side of Evan's head. He licked his lips and spread his legs until their bodies lined up groin to groin, then rolled his hips, putting pressure against Evan's cock. "God, Ev..."

With that movement, those two words, Evan groaned and let his head fall back to the wall. He couldn't stop himself. He rocked his hips in time with Kyle's. The feel of Kyle's body, his hard cock against him, drove his own arousal higher.

Kyle spoke again, his voice even lower. "It could be so fucking good."

Evan lost track of the arguments he'd been telling himself since he'd left the apartment earlier. He raised his head, and their lips met, the softest brush of flesh until Kyle opened his mouth, seized Evan by the back of the head, and slid his tongue into the touch. The kiss deepened, and Evan thought he'd never be able to stop feeling Kyle's mouth on his, their tongues pressed together.
 

Where can we find your website?
www.sloanparker.com

Peek-a-Boo (Josh of the Damned, #2)

By Andrea Speed

ISBN: 978-1-937551-16-2

Release: Jan 9 2012
Page count: 15
Heat Wave: 2 - Kisses and touches, no love scenes
Genre: Comedy, horror, urban fantasy / paranormal
Pairing: Gay
Species: monster (other), vampire (traditional), yeti

As night-shift clerk at the go-to Quik-Mart for monsters with the munchies, Josh Caplan believes he’s seen it all. Battling lizard men, werewolves chasing cars in the parking lot . . . nothing fazes Josh anymore.

Or so he thinks, at least, until a yeti with poor communication skills drops a dead skunk on the checkout counter. Josh can’t figure what a living, breathing shag carpet wants with him, or why it won’t leave him alone no matter how hard he ignores it. But hey, at least it seems harmless . . . if perhaps a little slow on the draw.

But Sasquatch is plenty fast when two of Josh’s human customers try to out-monster the monsters. Times are strange when creatures from the hell portal save the day, but in the protective hands of a lovesick yeti and a sexy vampire boyfriend, Josh realizes that maybe his new normal isn’t so bad after all.