A History Mystery: Day Seven / Part One

From the Memoirs of Jean Baptiste Morgane

Thursday, 30 October

Anger burned through me, so deep I can barely contain it. In spite of my control, this Mattias continues to thwart me. Images of him hinting and downright coming out and telling Morgan of my nature filled my slumber. If I did not think she would become suspicious instead of incredulous, I would have slain the man as soon as I woke. Though the calling to do so consumes me, I will not give into it. In all good time, he will outlive his usefulness and then I will see to him.

Instead, I decided to sequester myself in for the evening, thereby hoping to avoid the gnawing need to see Morgan. Despite my resolve, my brain refused to focus. It constantly whirled with thoughts of her, the rainbow splash of her eyes as she laughs, the way she purses her lips when she is deep in thought. As foolish as it this may sound, my body still tingled from the passion we’d shared before I slipped away with the blush of dawn painting the indigo void of the dying night.

Never in my existence have I felt so completely lost.

No, that isn’t true. Perhaps for the first time I am found. Morgan defines me like no other ever could. Looking back now with a spark of hope in my heart, the reality that Constance had not been the love of my life came bearing down on me. She had been a means to escape the life I’d chosen for myself. Assuredly, her beauty had marked her as a prize among women, as had her demure nature. I can not deny the benefits of a union between us but I remembered no passion. At least nothing resembling the heat I feel when I am with Morgan.

That train of thought has me straining to fly for the door. Calming the beat of my heart seems an impossibility, but I will strive to do just that.

In light of my decision to stay away from Morgan tonight, I thumbed through the journal I’d retrieved from Mattias, damn his soul. Immersing myself in ancient history didn’t offer the balm I sought. Yet, revisiting my youth made me see the truth. Diablolique’s curse did not make me a monster. I had already been one. Centuries later I saw my humanity had been a sham. Constance had been a tool to turn my buccaneering ways toward loftier atrocities. Whatever delusions I had cultivated lo those long years ago have now been cleared from my eyes.

With that, I know what I have to do. Sacrificing my happiness to let Morgan live without this taint I bear is no longer an option. For she is my happiness. But, can I force this burden upon her? I know that to blindly thrust this upon her will only drive a wedge between us, but I fear revealing it will accomplish the same outcome. To live without her is unthinkable. I can see that now.

Yet, I can not let her run from me when she hears the truth. My self-preservation will not allow for her to reveal my secret to the world. The popular media craze over vampires has diminished the speculative nature of the world. They hunger for vampires to be real. All it will take is for a whisper to become common knowledge and I will be hunted. I refuse to exist that way. No, her choice will be life or death. Nothing else can be allowed.

Love may sway my dead heart but my thoughts know what my heart wants to deny. Without love, life holds no meaning. Even this half life I endure would be heaven compared to what awaits me should Morgan say no. Do I risk all by revealing myself too soon?

I remember, from what little mortality persists to plague me, that normal courtships proceed at a slow rate, even those of an arranged nature. My heart knows we are meant to be together for eternity but will Morgan’s human understanding acquiesce to the harsh truths I must speak?

The thought agonized me for the better part of the evening. Only the chime of midnight striking the ancient mantle clock broke the moroseness of my musings. I knew the matter would prove moot if I didn’t act soon. I could see Mattias’ mind spinning with betrayal. If I didn’t take care of him first, he would take the problem out of my hands, creating an even larger one.

Laying the journal upon my side table, I rose to confront this willful thrall. The night welcomed me with a smothering haze as I exited the door to trudge through the growing humidity that not even darkness could diminish. I ignored it and made my way toward the heart of the city. The endless parade of lovers, or those caught in the grip of lust, no longer held amusement for me. They simply enlarged the yearning I felt to be with Morgan. As I neared Mattias’ abode, I clung to the backstreets to avoid the sight of true love in bloom.

A block from the man’s building, a sudden thought struck me. I made my way to one of the few pay phones left in working order and placed a call to Morgan. She answered with a warmness I found comforting. After apologizing for the intruding so late at night, I fabricated a lie about yet another night of business keeping me tied up. She accepted it gracefully, saying she had been working late in any case. Inquiring as to whether or not she would be free the following night, I expressed a need to see her. A lightness entered her voice and she answered that she was indeed available. She said that she would rather not dine out but would instead fix us a quiet dinner at her place. I agreed whole heartedly to her idea and bid her good night.

With a lighter air about me, I hastened to Mattais’ door. A simple knock gained me access. The man appeared haggard. Dark circles ringed his eyes, giving the indication of lost of sleep. His groveling did little to take the edge off my rage. If anything it infuriated me further. He opened his mouth to spout more lies to questions I had yet to ask. I could stand it no more. The back of my hand sent him sprawling across the floor. The crack of bone let me know, it was a lesson he would not soon forget.

Mattias scrambled to get out of my reach. Faster than he could blink, I jerked him up by his collar and slammed him into the wall. He gasped for breath, my hand tightening around his throat. The scent of his fear intoxicated me. The need to feed overwhelmed what reason I managed to control. With a twist of my hand I bared his neck. The pulse of his fevered life called to me. My fangs dropped and with one swift motion I sank them into his jugular.

The flavor of his fear tasted as sweet as honey upon my tongue. The touch of my lips on his flesh ignited the rush of his mind into my own. I captured his thoughts easily. They were so muddied with his anxiety, I fought to block them from becoming my own. Then blessed silence reached out to me. In the folds of his psyche I commanded obedience. With his death imminent he gladly gave it to me. I released him from my kiss as the last of his resistance flowed away.

I left him then, a crumpled husk of a man, but alive. On the morrow he would be tired, but this memory would remind him that his life was not a gift from God, instead it was a whim of my choosing.

A slight rain, more mist than actual precipitation, greeted me as I strode onto the deserted street. The washing spray soothed the burning that twisted under my skin. I had fed too deep, too fast. I felt drunk on the man’s life force coursing through my veins. It gave me a sudden clarity usually only reserved for geniuses and fools. Tomorrow I will claim my love or find death’s embrace to lull me to sleep.

Interview: Jenna Petersen

The Morgan Diaries are going back in time. Well, we’re dressing up in funny clothes this week. No, not for fun but seeing MorganO cinched up in a bodice is a wonder to behold. Well, Jmo in those tights and frock coat might not be a wonder, but it does make one wish for a Digital Camera. Today at The Diaries, we’re all about celebrating our guest Jenna Petersen’s arrival to the offices. If you’re not familiar with her work, where the heck have you been?!

Whether you love your romance just plain Scandalous, or want know for a fact Seduction is Forever, or you need Lessons From a Courtesan, this is one author you need gracing your bookshelf and we’re so happy to have her with us today.

TMD: Jenna welcome to our offices. Please sit down and ignore Jmo’s codpiece. He thinks he’s Black Adder. Have some tea and crumpets while you get settled.

JP: I’m trying not to look at the codpiece. I may have to burn my eyes out to erase that image.

TMD: We’d love for you to tell our readers a little about your newest release.

JP: Sure! My latest release came out in July 2008 and it is Lessons From A Courtesan. In it my hero and heroine, Justin and Victoria Talbot, married and shared one fabulous wedding night, but then Justin deserted her (he was forced into the marriage). Flash forward 3 years and all the men of the ton are talking about the Best Courtesan in London, Ria. Imagine Justin’s surprise when he realizes she is his estranged wife. It’s probably the sexiest historical romance I’ve written, as Justin and Victoria happen to be a very physical couple as they try to work through all the betrayal in their past.

My next historical romance comes out in April 2009. It features a former underground fighter who makes a bargain with a fallen lady to teach him how to be a gentleman again when he unexpectedly inherits a title. I loved writing a bit of a twist on a My Fair Lady idea. Plus, it’s very sexy and the guy is a fighter. What more could you ask for? It’s called, Her Notorious Viscount (and you can pre-order at Amazon already).

TMD: Historical Romance has been the bread and butter of the industry for a long time. Do you find it hard to come up with original storylines with such the wealth of authors who came before you?

JP: Not at all! The wonderful thing about writing is that you can give five authors the same premise and they’ll come up with five very different stories. The characters and the circumstances end up making each story fresh. Plus an author’s voice keeps things different.

TMD: Your Lady Spies series is certainly at the top of the heap when it comes with Historical Romance. What inspired you to take James Bond historical?

JP: Thanks! I did love writing the Lady Spies. I pitched the series as Charlie’s Angels in Empire Waists. I really loved writing three women who from the outside might look like your typical Society ladies, but in reality were something very different. Plus, the three of them have such a strong bond of friendship, so that was a great theme to explore in each book, as well.

TMD: As a lot of authors do today you divide your efforts into two different personas. Jenna Petersen for historical romance and Jess Michaels for Erotica. Do you find a division in your readership between these two names or do your fans cross over to enjoy both genres?

JP: I think there is cross-over. My historical romances have always been quite hot, so many fans who like them are also drawn to my erotic historicals. And if you like my really steamy erotics, you’ll probably enjoy my regular historicals. Occasionally I’ll find a fan who just doesn’t like erotic, but they like my historicals. But for the most part I think many go from one to the other easily.

TMD: Both Historical and Erotica take a certain mindset to write. Which do you find easier to write? And more enjoyable to write?

JP: I don’t really separate the two into like or easier. I really love writing both and since I seem to be on an alternating schedule (erotic, historical, erotic, historical) with my due dates, that actually gives me a little break in between each one, which is very nice. But each type of story is something I have a great amount of passion about.

TMD: When you’re focusing on the Historical side of your split personality how do you set the mood to get into the book? Morgan tugs on her corset and we’re ignoring what Jmo is tugging on.

JMo: Hey, this codpiece itches! I can’t help it.

Morgan O: That’s what all men say. Try breathing with a vise around your torso and then you can bitch.

JP: I don’t listen to music or burn candles or anything like that. I actually need it to be pretty quiet to write (though I am getting better at that). I just put my behind in the chair, put my notes in front of me and go.

TMD: We’re not sure if you’re familiar with the way these interviews of ours go, but it’s time to test your meddle in the fires of insanity!

As a historical author if you were a damsel in your own book who would you rather be saved by a knight in shining armor or Colin Firth wearing nothing but Jmo’s codpiece? After it had been disinfected of course.

JP: Colin Firth. I’m not much into medieval. Mr. Darcy wins my heart every time. Though I’d say lose the codpiece. It’s not really fitting with the time period anyway.

TMD: We can’t forget all the HOT, HOT men on your covers. How do you get the most beautiful men for your books? Do you get a choice in the decision on cover model? Like take them for a test drive to see how to get their motors running, out on the highway? Looking for adventure?

JMo: Calm down Morgan. I think that corset has cut off all the blood flow north.

MorganO: No way, I’m still drooling over Tristan on the cover of From London with Love (looking at the book upside down) he’s just so… so… *sigh*

JP: The Avon Art Department is the one responsible for all those fabulous covers and I have been extremely blessed by everything I’ve gotten from them. With the Jenna books, I send them cover info about a year before the book comes out. Things like: hair color, eye color, pose I’d like to see, scene I’d like to see… and often I send them a picture if I have one of something I’d like to see. I’ve been very lucky that they’ve been open to that. The From London With Love cover was exactly what I wanted (and yes, Tristan is delish on that cover).

And the cover glory continues! I’ve just gotten a sneak peek at my April 2009 cover for Her Notorious Viscount and my cover for my May 2009 Jess book, Taboo. I can’t share yet, but I will say that they are my two best covers to date, I think! And that’s saying something!!

TMD: Before she starts licking Tristan off that cover again, thank you for joining us today Jenna. We’ve loved having you and can’t wait to sample more of your books, so feel free to leave any WiPs with us. We just love sneak peeks.

JP: Well, in 2009, I will have three releases:

A Red Hot Valentine’s Day: This novella collection contains my Jess Michaels erotic historical story called “By Valentine’s Day”, which is a friends turned to lovers/trapped in a snowstorm story.

Her Notorious Viscount: I’ve talked a bit about this one here, but my hero is a pugilist (a boxer) in the Underground. He inherits a title and enters into an agreement with my heroine to learn how to be a gentleman.

Taboo: A Jess Michaels full-length erotic romance. In this one my heroine is a seamstress who also designs erotic toys on the side. The hero is the man who thinks she threw him over years before. It’s got blackmail, revenge and lots of hot sex. LOL

TMD: Don’t forget to let our readers know where they can find you plastered all over the net like MorganO is plastered on that cover.

JP: You can find me at http://www.jennapetersen.com/ . If you are a writer, I have site for aspiring authors called The Passionate Pen, http://www.passionatepen.com/ . And I have a very active MySpace, http://www.myspace.com/jennawrites .

MorganO: Oh Tristan, take me, I’m yours!

Jmo: See what I mean. Now I’ve got to get the Jaws of Life to get her out of that corset before she passes out. Thanks for joining us this week!

Excerpt: Lessons from a Courtesan by Jenna Petersen

An almost imperceptible shiver worked its way through Victoria’s body. It was such a tiny movement, but it hit Justin in the gut like a sucker punch. Damn, but he wanted this woman. More than that, he wanted to make her crave him day and night. He wanted to be certain she left London with memories of him burned on her for life.

A cruel desire, when he had no intention of living as her husband in anything more than name only. That hadn’t changed. The obstacles that stood between them in the past still existed. He was even more uncertain of her motives than ever. Yet he still wanted her to surrender to him in every way.

He really was an unbearable bastard.

Victoria turned slightly and gazed up at him. Her lower lip was trembling, her eyes slightly glazed. “I didn’t think you kept mistresses, Justin. What will people say?”

He shrugged.

“That you are the most desirable woman in the Empire,” he said softly. “And I only take the best.”

Her gaze darted away. “You don’t think I’m the most desirable woman in Britain,” she said, her voice barely carrying even with the miniscule distance between them.

“Don’t I?”

She shook her head. “You never have.”

He tilted his head in surprise and examined her face carefully. She lifted her chin, daring him to refute her words, but behind her bravado and contempt, he sensed a long buried hurt. Though he doubted she would ever admit that to him.

He should have left it be. Let her think that he never wanted her for more than a few moments, but there was some part of him that couldn’t let that belief exist.

“You’re wrong,” he murmured as he slipped his fingers into her hair and cupped the back of her head. With a gentle tug, he forced her to look into his eyes. “You are so very, very wrong.

Available Now from:

A History Mystery: Day Six / Part Two

The Personal Journals of Morgan Victoria Beauchamp

Wednesday, October 29

Dearest Papa,

Well, it seems I have to eat my words from yesterday. I spent a second day struggling with my resentment, shame and sorrow, my body positively aching from lack of sleep and a need for satisfaction. After my last class, an early evening lecture for grad students, faithful Mattias at my side, my whole world turned on its axis once more. I looked up from my brief case trying to rub the itch from my neck and there, at the very back, easily overlooked because of the shadows, stood my own modern day pirate.

The rascal. He even had the nerve to wear a long black trench coat and hat. He raised his head and our gazes met. And just like that, my body came alive, my doubts fled, and depression vaporized. He was back and all he had to do was hold out his hand and, forgiveness in my heart, I ran to him. Mattias tried to hold me back, but I shook him off and found myself in the arms of my own Jean Baptiste, his whispered murmurs of apology music in my ears.

He’d had business, unexpected and unavoidable. He doesn’t carry a cell phone and wasn’t near a phone which wouldn’t have done him any good because he didn’t have my number. I promised to tattoo it on his palm if that would help and he laughed as he kissed me. A very tiny voice in the back of my mind still whispered wanting to know what kind of business. After all, we’d mostly discussed my work, my research, my life. I couldn’t for the life of me remember if he’d ever mentioned a vocation, a career or business. Who is he, really, my little voice asked.

My libido ignored all such sinister whispers. For all I knew, the man could be a burglar or a con man, the necklace his latest hot ticket in my keeping so as to be out of the visibility of authorities. The very valuable necklace. Yes, I did have it appraised. It seems my lover thinks quite highly of me. The jeweler offered me forty thousand dollars cash on the spot. Imagine his resale on that. Sixty thousand or, more likely, eighty. I had him check the clasp and he assured me the necklace would never fall off by mistake or chance. It took a knowing hand to work the mechanism. He also assured me the settings were solid and he dated the piece back at least two hundred years. A check of the police hot sheets didn’t turn up even a hint of it. He felt confident in assuring me my benefactor was most generous.

So. My very passionate lover is back. I’m still wearing his gift, and he has assured it was a gift with no strings attached. Not a payment for services, past, present or future. A gift from his heart.

I’ve done it again. I’ve skipped over events and have trotted off far ahead of myself.
While wrapped in Jean Baptiste’s arms at the back of the lecture hall, we were interrupted by Mattias standing at my shoulder and clearing his throat. The two men sized each other up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it live like that before, but I could very nearly smell the testosterone in the room.

Two men ready to lock horns over me. Talk about feminine satisfaction. It was almost laughable, but I had the sense they were very serious about ripping into each other. I stepped between them and made the introductions, using the name John Morgan as Jean Baptiste had asked me the other day. He found the explanations of the similarity of his name to the pirate to be awkward. Still, Mattias gave me a dubious glance. Like a stand-in brother, uncle or father, Mattias dug into Jean Baptiste with questions. What did he do for a living? Jean Baptiste answered that he dealt in antiquities. Might that explain where the necklace came from? Oh my. The very thought made my little heart beat out a rapid tattoo. His family? None. Associations? Impressive names of old families were spit out like a ticker tape. Jean Baptiste did an admirable job of holding back his temper. Indeed, at one point I thought I caught the hint of a chuckle, or was it a growl of frustration? Hard to tell. Jean Baptiste has one hell of a poker face.

At last I called an end to the grilling. I was starving and anxious to be alone with Jean Baptiste. His fingers had found the necklace under my clothing and stroked it, stroked me, stoked the banked coals of my want. I asked Mattias to take my briefcase back to my office and lock up. He had the journals already and had agreed to take them to his contacts in the morning.

I was disappointed when Jean Baptiste begged off, saying he had just a little more business this evening. Apparently I was a stop between appointments. I put on my brave face and shrugged. I had my own errands, I assured him. Groceries were high on my list as I craved red meat and the contents of my fridge held no appeal.

Caught up in day dreams, I barely remember shopping and driving, and therefore consider it a miracle I managed to pull my car into the garage an hour later. Jean Baptiste came to greet me in the garage. Too anxious to wait Jean Baptiste met me at the hood of my car, and with the warmth of the metal beneath my back, he stripped my jeans from my legs and came into me right there. I must admit making love on the hood of an economy car isn’t the stuff of MTV videos, but it didn’t matter one bit to us. As he thrust into me, I licked the hint of salt from his neck and left behind what I was sure would be a very visible love bite. I must not have chewed on him as hard as I thought for there was no visible mark when we finally made it upstairs to my bed.

Ah, what magic a man can work with the simple tools he is born with. Hands, lips, tongue… and other… parts I blush to mention to my own father. Yes, as natural as you and Mama tried to be about such things, I still don’t feel comfortable discussing it with you in intimate detail. Even with you in spirit form on the screen of my computer. I imagine, that if Jean Baptiste keeps a journal, I’m sure he does it the old fashioned way. Leather bound books of unlined pages, filled with neat script using fine ink. He has just that air of old world elegance about him. Even unclothed.

But all body parts aside, it is the heart of a man a woman feels when those parts come together. Without heart, the motions would be meaningless, just sweaty groping to diffuse a physical urge. And I felt his heart. My soul was touched and we made love. You can’t tell me men don’t feel the deeper difference. It isn’t just sex. Not with the right mate. There was a moment when I looked into his eyes and I saw everything inside him. Each emotion was bare and raw, laid out for me to see. I cupped his cheeks between my hands and let my heart show in my eyes. In just this way, we were connected far more deeply than his part A in my slot B. Soul to soul, I felt as if we each stared across all eternity and all we could see was each other. From the intensity of our union, our contact on all levels, I know it touched him deeply as well, for his entire body trembled. Mine trembled as well, and together we reached an altitude so high we both touched the very heavens.

A small eternity passed before we were able to rouse ourselves after that. Jean Baptiste collapsed on top of me, his lips soft and loving as he drowsily kissed whatever part of my head and neck he could reach in our languor. I held him, loving the weight of his body on mine. At length, afraid he was crushing me, he rolled to his back without breaking our connection, for it was still strong between us, and I rested upon him, his body my bed. I licked the spot where I could have sworn I’d bitten him and a shudder of pure delight rippled through his body and into mine. Only hunger, for real food, roused me from my comfortable spot.

Jean Baptiste swore he’d never need another morsel of food, though he did help empty the bags we’d carried up from the car. All he needed was to make love to me. A wonderful sentiment, but poor mortal that I am, I needed steak. Or at the very least, some of the rare roast beef slices I’d purchased.

Another night has passed and my lover has once again slipped from my bed, thinking me asleep. I was until I heard the snick of the door shutting. Where does my lover run off to before the sun rises? If I had any strength at all, I’d try to follow him. As daylight grows in my room, I realize I still don’t have a phone number, nor do I know where he lives. Am I a fool? Is my lover what he seems? Do I really care? As long as he isn’t married, a thief wanted for crimes I can only imagine, or a modern day rake seeking only to spend time in debauchery, I don’t much care what he does. I just want our time to continue without end. Perhaps I am a romantic who would do better to pen fiction rather than continue my crusade to make history come alive for my students. Lord knows I might have more impact on a wider audience. A debate for another day. I have only a few hours to rest before I must return to campus. Have to pay the bills somehow…

A History Mystery: Day Six / Part One

From the Memoirs of Jean Baptiste Morgane

Wednesday, 29 October

I have recovered the lost journal though it pains me to know the depths to which I sunk to retrieve it. My heart tries to convince me I have not betrayed Morgan by doing so, but my mind knows the truth and horror of what I have done. If only it was the sole infamy I perpetrated this dark night. My betrayal goes much deeper.

After hearing the turmoil in Morgan’s mind the night before, I knew I had to go to her and offer some explanation for my actions. Donning a trench coat and hat, I left my shadowy cave before the sun dipped below the Spanish moss strangled cypress trees. My flesh tingled with the heat of the burning orb, but my precautions prevented the harmful rays from directly touching me. My sluggishness impeded my journey but I had to see Morgan with all due haste.
Even though dusk had fallen by the time I reached the campus, students milled freely around the quad as I made my way toward Morgan’s last class of the day. Fearing the connection we shared might prove untrustworthy, I timed my visit so I could come near her before she left for the night. Approaching the classroom, I paused as a rush of students blocking my way. It seemed my plan had worked. As the crowd cleared I saw Morgan’s door standing open.

I hesitated at the door, seeing her conversing with someone near the podium. When they tilted their heads close together, a wave of anger filled me. The sight of another man so close to my woman drove me nearly insane. The slight pressure of my fangs tearing the flesh of my bottom lip shocked me back to my senses. In spite of what my heart thought, Morgan was not my woman. She belonged to no man. She was uniquely her own. That was the very quality that endeared her to me.

Fighting to hold onto my sanity, I moved into the lecture hall. My feet moved feebly toward them. I paused at the top of the stairs leading down to her. Morgan’s sparkling eyes caught sight of me and captured me briefly with their promise of love. My resolve faltered. The thought of losing her too great to bear, I would take this moment, no matter how delusional it might be, and take pleasure in her company. Let tomorrow come and damn me for a fool, but tonight I would be human.

First I had to deal with this interloper. Morgan greeted me with unrestrained longing. Her mad cap dash brought her into my arms, where I enfolded her with every bit of the passion consuming me. Breaking a kiss I had been sure would kick start my heart back to pumping, I caught a look from Morgan’s companion. The hate I saw in his eyes offered me little worry. I flashed him a knowing smile before releasing my hold on Morgan.

My conscience bridled at the concoction of lies that fell from my lips to explain my disappearance but it was for her own good. It helped matters little that she accepted them. The assistant she introduced as Mattias, on the other hand, did not. I am not one to bandy words with a fool, yet found myself doing just that. Only Morgan’s intervention stopped the situation from escalating any further.

Once free of the damnable man’s presence, I did my utmost to calm her fears. She offered the necklace back to me, but I refused. Explaining the present was not some trinket to purchase her affections, I told her the necklace was a gift of the heart and belonged where my heart already resided—with her. That seemed to assuage her fears concerning my intentions. I bade my goodbyes under the pretense of finishing up the business I’d told her had monopolized my time for the past day, promising to see her later that night if it reached a satisfactory conclusion. A gentle kiss ended our time together, though we both yearned for more.

In truth Mattias drew my attention. While Morgan and I said our farewells, the man slipped from the room. My journal sat tucked beneath his arm along with a collection of other manuscripts that held no interest for me. Hugging to the shadows, I followed him through the streets. He, oblivious to my presence, led me directly to his home. The entire time his mouth worked feverously spouting diatribes against my person. They were laughable, amusing me with their content. At least he had to good taste to love Morgan. Not that I’d allow him to live, or so I’d thought.

My luck held as we reached his merger abode. The small avenue sat cloaked in shadow, deserted for all intents and purposes. It took little effort to overtake him within the confines of the slender portico over his door. I admit no small enjoyment at the look upon his face, as I shoved him inside. Fear reeked from the man like strangled perfume. The scent of his death lurked beneath it. I tasted it. Wanted it.

I truthfully cannot state why I did not take his life there and then. Perhaps some small bit of humanity still resides within my cold body. If I looked deeper, I would honestly say Morgan stayed my hand. Through our connection, I felt her love for this man; not the burning passion she felt for me, but a kinship I was loath to take away from her. Nevertheless, I could not leave him free to tell of my monstrosity.

The act was distasteful to me, yet I did it all the same. I pulled him to me and drank deep, not enough to send him to whatever hells awaited him but just the amount to bind him to me. His brain fought to dissolve the control I exerted over him. I marveled at the strength he displayed. In the end, no mind could combat the mental dominance of a vampire. In the darkness, his eyes flew back to white and he was mine to do with what I will.

With the merest of suggestion, he placed the journal in my hand, along with some notes he’d worked up that day. I took them greedily, securing them in my overcoat. Mattias stared blankly into my face, awaiting my next command. I planted the idea of sleep into his mind, telling him that should Morgan inquire about his studies concerning the journal, the work was slow in coming. I was not sure she would believe his tale, but prayed their friendship would calm any fears she might have. I left him yawning as he made his way to bed.

Closing the door behind me, I knew I must see Morgan after returning the journal and Mattias’ papers to my home, where they still sit beside this journal. I find myself hesitant to open the tattered binding to replay my humanity. The pain is too great for me now. Instead I will secret them along with the other remnants of my past, I would as soon forget.

That done, the urgency to see Morgan overruled whatever reason I had left to me. Like a sparrow straight from the bowels of hell, I flew through the streets. Each second of the journey burned an eternity through my dark soul.

Reaching her doorway, I knew this night would only end with our bodies entwined. I ached for her beneath me, boring not her life into me but her love. Blood no longer sustains me. Only Morgan Beauchamp does. Tonight I took all I could and knew it would never be enough to sate the thirst I feel for her.

Interview: Diana Castilleja

Sorry, but we’re a little distracted today. The cable has gone out in the TMD offices and Jmo is stressing over missing True Blood this week. So, how do you get the cable man to make an emergency house call? You call on the author who has the cable man wrapped around her finger. That’s right Diana Castilleja is in the house.

Okay, cable man, fix our box while we chat with the lovely Diana.

TMD: Diana welcome to the Diaries and thanks for bringing tech support.

DC: Thanks for having me. Ignore the guy in the hot jeans and flashing smile. He’s mine, girls. *wink*

TMD: Could you tell our readers a little about The Eternal Kiss, your paranormal sizzler?

DC: Well, how much is a little? *BG* Diego’s story came to me as the NaNo for 2005. He actually had about five or six false starts as I tried to find the one that was “his”. I knew she was going to be a singer, and what her issues were going to be. I saw his story almost in its entirety before I even began writing it. When I started NaNo, I cleared the requisite 50K in nine days on him. He’s still one of my favorite characters.

TMD: As an author you’re all over the place, contemporary, romantic suspense, paranormal. Is there anything you can’t write? Seriously, out of all the genres you write, which fits you the best as a creator?

DC: Anything I won’t write… I won’t go near horror. I can’t watch scary movies. I watched Pet Cemetery through my fingers! I think I was fourteen. *BG* You’ll laugh, but the Blair Witch Project freaked me out. No nightmares, thankfully, but I still catch myself seeing the ending in my mind every now and then and that was years ago! Yep, that was as deep as my scary bone ever got.

My worlds are romance, regardless of where they occur. I think paranormal is one of my strongest genres, with fantasy and contemporary-romantic/suspense in there too. I love vampires, and shifters and the unknown tantalization that comes from it.

TMD: Paranormal is so huge right now. How hard do you find it to bring a unique voice to the reading public in the crush of authors filling the shelves? What do your vamps in The Eternal Kiss have that make them different from other authors’ creations?

DC: *sings* La-la-la… *clears throat* Right. Not that kind of voice. Unfortunately, glutting the market happens with every hot topic that sells well. But what we see now, actually took some six to ten years to happen. So what will be the next big thing? I wish I knew. I think so long as authors are supplying an in-demand product, there will always be new voices, however challenging it is to make them different, on the shelves. The trick will be maintain their stories and their readership for the long haul.

As for what makes my books different. *blush* I’m not really sure. My vampires are drawn after more traditional forms (Ashley, Rice) but have to face a conundrum to achieve their inner peace plus live with humans as more than a food supply. Having humans as friends has never happened to Diego. Having someone love him hasn’t happened either. The subsequent books are actually becoming more challenging, because the original formula for Diego’s book will have to be adapted for each vampire that comes to the front.

TMD: In contrast, your contemporaries have an entirely different voice from your paranormal works. Do you feel readers willingly make the jump between genres if it means following their favorite author?

DC: In this, I honestly feel that people are going to read what they like. If they like the author, then that is even better. They’re more willing to try a different genre because of their trust in that author’s style or voice.

I do think I have a certain sassitude that comes out in my lighter works, like my fantasy. Emotion is always key in my stories. I want them to be real to the reader. That is very important to me.

TMD: There’s a lot of emphasis on writing cross genre in the industry. Do you feel your openness to different genres gives you an advantage in your writing?

DC: Sometimes. I most often cross fantasy with another genre. But I also worry it makes authors write something to sound like, write like, another voice, and I don’t always feel that the demand is necessary, or beneficial to the story.

TMD: You’re also cofounder of Sweeter Romantic Notions. Would you tell us a little about this unique author site and its sister blog?

DC: This was started as a brain child between myself and Dayna Hart. When I was first published, the majority of (if not all) loops and discussion taking place were for the hotter and erotic stories. My first book was reminiscent of Harlequin Romance line. There is no sex in it at all. So when I couldn’t find what I was looking for, I created it.

SRN caters to the non-erotic, inspirational and all genre of romance fiction up to mainstream sensual writer and reader. Basically if you could find the heat or graphic-ness on the Wal-Mart shelf, then it was considered safe. We do group chats, loop chats and promotions that are handled by our lovely Promo Queen Adelle Laudan.

In the two years we’ve been going, SRN has drawn some great author attention and has made a strong and viable platform as a group for those who may feel overwhelmed or overlooked in the current online market. There is a sweeter reading market. We’re helping authors find the readers for that market.

TMD: You place some emphasis on Sweet in Sweeter Romantic Notions. Do you feel traditional romance is getting lost in the shuffle as Erotica grows in popularity?

DC: A lot of this is hung on promotion, pure and simple. Online writing requires online promotions. SRN gives the non-erotic writers that opportunity. Overall, yes it can be buried, but as more people are turning to online resources for their entertainment, I feel that all genres will eventually have an equal footing for those who are searching for a good book or a great author. Better reading software, handhelds, and ease of purchase and portability will make a big difference when it happens.

TMD: What are some of the benefits of an organization like SRN when it comes to promotion?

DC: Well, as I mentioned, we do group chats, where other authors are encouraged to hang out and support those who are in the spotlight at the moment. I’ve read many of the authors on the loop, and can say there’s some very talented writing happening there. When people are on hand who have the read the work being showcased, it really helps IMHO.

We also have a blog and a MySpace page. We do announcements to the group, and encourage everyone to use the loops for their hang out. Releases are done by announcement to the group.

TMD: As a Texan author how do you feel about the emergence of so many authors from Texas in the past years. J.R. Ward, Kimberly Raye, Karen McInerney and Julie Kenner just to name a few.

DC: I’m supposed to feel something? LOL J

Okay. Actually having new talent come from Texas doesn’t really bother me. Texas is a big state. I can share. *BG* *wink*

TMD: Time to bring on the insanity. Diana we here at the Diaries love to delve beneath the surface of authors and ask the hard hitting questions. If you were stuck on a deserted island and could bring only two things—don’t worry we have a list for you to pick from—what would they be?

Candy, rich creamy chocolate goodness. Coffee, the drink of the gods or a cowboy cable man vampire. Yes, run in fear, cable man. MorganO has a wicked set of chompers. Bite him. Bite him hard. I love it when they scurry away like that.

DC: Mmmm… Chocolate… and a strong cable guy to keep me company… I guess I’d have to take the cable dude… I mean, who’s going to kill spiders for me? *shudder* Can’t stand spiders. And if I couldn’t take him or the chocolate, I have a friend who will loan me some of her cabana boys.

TMD: Diana we’d like to thank you for joining us and bringing the hubby to fix the cable. Jmo becomes a big old bear when his TV goes out. Please let our readers know where to find you around the net and of course any juicy tidbits you have coming out we need to snap up.

DC: Let’s see… Places to find me Wal-Mart, Barton Creek Mall, J.C. Penney… Oh? Not that kind of finding? drats! *innocent looks*

Well, here’s the usual go to info:

http://www.dianacastilleja.com
http://www.dianadericci.com
http://dianacastilleja.blogspot.com
http://srnwrites.blogspot.com
http://royalblushauthors.com

and my email for those of you who wish to say hi… I don’t bite, even though I write about vampires. *wink*
Diana.Castilleja @ gmail.com

Excerpt: Eternal Kiss by Diana Castilleja

How about if I give you a bit about my print release? This story is my NaNo from 2005. Poor guy. He’s been around the block a bit. But that’s okay. You know it happens. A book meets a publisher and it’s a good publisher, but it just doesn’t “work out”. The “It’s not you, it’s me” line. God, how often have we heard that? So with sad farewells, we must move on.

And move on we did. The Eternal Kiss was contracted to Tease Publishing and has seen his day! Or would that be night? He is a vampire, y’know… Hmm. Something to think about I guess. Anyway, with a new home, new duds (That’s Texan for coverart) and some fine encouragement, he’s getting where he was meant to go.

And I’m really pleased to have the chance to show him off here at the TMD.

The Eternal Kiss:


Diego Viteri has lived for centuries with only one real goal, to avenge himself against the one who destroyed the man that he was and created the creature he is now. He is suffering a growing loneliness that is becoming impossible to ignore. His only reason for not ending his life is to see that Brakka is served his justice and then, Diego can rest.

The last thing he is expecting is to have an encounter with a human woman who is willing to jump between himself and Brakka during a harsh and bloody battle. Their one meeting changes everything for Diego, bringing to life emotions and wants that he has long believed to be as dead as he is.

As he follows Titania and her band, his needs reshape into something that he can't ignore. Before he knows what he has done, he bonds with her and sets into motion the very thing he swore he would never do to another person. He has shared his curse and in the process may have very well killed her. And there is only one choice to be made to try to save her.

Excerpt:
Her hand skimmed over his shoulder to wrap into his hair. She pulled him closer, and he lay down with her, his full length eclipsing her.

He could not help himself. He leaned forward and found the hardened peak of one, sucking gently. She arched and let out a shriek, her arms capturing his head and holding him in her pleasure. Hunger flared, seared him as he caressed and laved at that hard nub.

Kiss me.

He rose instantly to those luscious lips, answering the plea in her voice, in his thoughts. Her desire ignited his to a new level, a hunger for her completion, for her body, searing his brain.

Diego drew her bottom lip into his mouth, swirling his tongue over the sensitive skin inside, and his body clenched at her whimpers. He thrust within, his tongue meeting hers, mating, stroking at the sweet temptation of her mouth.

He found the corner of her lips, caressing it tenderly as he glided along her jaw, her head tipped back to his hungry exploration. His heart thundered as he tasted her, sipped at the delicate texture beneath her ear.

He inhaled her sweet essence, the steady beat of her blood through her body. He snapped his head back sharply, blinking.

"What's wrong?" Titania asked, staring up at him, frozen, immediately catching his confusion.

"Nothing. I think." He lowered to her neck, right over his claiming mark, and inhaled. His fangs exploded with a raging hunger, striking him hard and deep. He whipped his head away before she could see the flames in his gaze, the telltale fangs.

Her hand fell to her neck. "Intense," she said, watching him carefully.

"It will pass."

"Is it because you need to eat?" she asked. Caution tinged her words.He almost smiled at her wild thoughts. He remained faced away from her instead. "I am not thinking of snacking, cara."

"What happened?" She cradled his chin with her fingertips, applying a subtle pressure, turning him.

Dark lashes hid his worst thoughts. "It is stronger, sweeter." He drew a deep breath and released it slowly. "I can control this."

"Would it be bad? Because I am now like you?"

"Honestly, I do not know."

Big, blue eyes shimmered up at him, her mouth growing supple. She tilted her head, exposing her throat. "I trust you."

He sucked in air, stunned at her gift. "Cara, I do not know if it will harm you."

She blinked up at him. "Why would you feel so strongly for it then? Has it been like this before?"

He thought back and had to shake his head. "No. Not like this." Never like this.

Fingers danced across his chin, trailed down his own neck, and muscles clenched from his jaw to his toes. "Diego, I feel it, too. I want to share with you. I want to know how it feels for you. I want to know it is only me you feel this way for."

He buried his face into her shoulder. "Titania. It is only you. Do you not know that?"

She tilted once more. "Then show me."

Diego did not know if he should pray or cry in gratitude. Titania was the most unselfish being in his entire world. This was from her, to him. Simply because he wanted it.