Keta and Tara: Joaquin's Realm

Tara Nichols and Keta Diablo, co-authoring a series of Angel and Demon novels under the name of JOAQUIN, finaled in Stella Cameron’s prestigious Scarlet Boa contest with their PARANORMAL entry. We are thrilled to have placed in the final ten among over 148 entries. The voting will continue through October 31st and the winning entry will be read by an editor from MIRA publishing.

The book, currently under the working title, The Fall of the Black Phoenix, is coming along nicely. It features zombies, werewolves, vampires, and most of all angels and demons. We’re making our characters walk a tightrope of suspense, action, adventure, and sizzling erotic scenarios as they do battle in the urban gutters of Vancouver, the heavens and beyond!

Here is a small taste:


Ayr stepped into the winter night as another clap of thunder split the air. Strange, he thought, looking up at star-filled sky. Deep in the heart of winter, a thin layer of frost clung to the hardwoods and pines, and rain-laden clouds loomed overhead, poised on the brink of unleashing a torrent upon his head.

Lifting his face to the sky, Ayr closed his eyes and willed his body to leave the ground. He rose up, his wings a transparent shimmer, a latent memory of what they were when he graced the heavens. In spite of his earthly presence, the celestial extensions never failed him. They had always served as a pseudo-conduit, opening his mind to the evil forces at work. From out of the dark came a roll of thunder, so loud it shook the stars.

A far-off shriek shattered his concentration, startling him. His powerful body careened left and for a moment threatened his symmetrical balance. Gathering his wits, he focused on the direction of the blood-curdling scream. The malevolent energy he'd sensed earlier seeped into his pores. He struggled to block out the interference and allowed his mind to lead him toward the ill-fated source.

Banking south, he cupped his wings, lowered his head and prepared to land. A barrier rose before him—an invisible barricade with the strength and force of impregnable armor. With steeled determination, he pushed onward and landed at the mouth of a wide, litter-riddled back alley.

The stench of refuse and blood spiraled up his nose and, something else― an intoxicating mixture of red patchouli and bold, pale musk.

The scent of a woman surely made in heaven.

Shadows shifted in the alley; one, a stunning beauty, the woman whose fragrance he'd devoured moments ago, and oh, God, the other, Lazarus, his young protégé. The warrior-woman held his limp body by the lapels of his jacket, her emerald eyes fixed on his bloodless face. His friend's eyes were open, the pupils rolled back in his head. The image reminded him of a scene from Night of the Living Dead. Laz' chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, so miniscule a human would have thought him deceased.

Ayr knew he should do something . . . like kill the bitch, but why did his feet feel nailed to the cold ground? Transfixed by some unknown force he watched as the woman covered Lazarus' mouth with hers. Ayr knew the act was not that of a wanton lover, nor did her actions spawn from a personal vendetta against Laz. Her cold eyes lacked lust or desire, discounting necrophilia. This was the work of a professional, a cold-hearted, highly skilled killer.

She lowered her mouth, covered his lips with hers and sucked in her cheeks. The magnificent green eyes closed and her chest heaved inward. A cold chill snaked down Ayr's spine, and not from the frosty air. With a sudden jerk of her neck, her head arched back and a trail of pale blue smoke spewed from her lips. Another shudder shook Ayr as he drew his gaze to Lazarus. The man's body convulsed and a garbled choke slipped from his throat. Like a sunflower caught up in an ice-storm his flaccid body sagged.

The woman released her hold on his jacket and Ayr waited for the sound of his body to hit the hard ground. He hadn't counted on what happened next. Laz' physical being turned to dust before his eyes; a handful of gray soot that blew away in a cold, bitter wind. The red-haired beauty watched the matter take flight then made the sign of the cross.

A jolt of lightning jerked Ayr from his trance-like state. “Soul Thief,” he whispered and prepared for battle.

If you’d like to follow our progress, stop by our blog: http://joaquinsrealm.blogspot.com

And we now have a cozy little corner over at the Coffee Time Romance forums: http://www.coffeetimeromance.com/board/forumdisplay.php?f=1131


Keeping with the festive season:


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

Keta ~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.

Tara ~ Spirits? Yes. I can’t really explain why though. I feel that I have good intuition and I make sure to listen to it, so when I find myself in a situation that makes the hair rise up off my skin, I listen to it. I haven’t seen any aspirations appear, nor heard any inexplicable thumps and bumps in the middle of the night, but I have felt things. The farm house where I grew up seemed to be a hotspot for creepy feelings, but only after I left that home did I hear the stories about the things other people have seen and felt. Both of my parents told me about a time when they heard the door slam in the kitchen despite the fact that it was locked, and heavy footsteps stomping down the basement stairs. My cousin finally told me she didn’t want to go to a certain part of the forest anymore because she felt we were being watched, and I had terrible insomnia because of ghastly nightmares that seemed to come from no where. Then there’s that feeling that someone dressed all in black, wielding a frighteningly large knife was chasing me down the hall. I swear I managed twenty steps in two leaps. Even though I’ve never SEEN anything, I’m convinced.


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

Keta ~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.

Tara ~ I have always wanted to fly so let’s go with winged vampires.


~ What’s your favorite part of your current project, The Fall of the Black Phoenix?

Keta ~ My favorite part of all my writing projects is watching the hero and heroine fall in love. In *romance* there's always angst and conflict among the main characters. Watching them evolve from perhaps enemies (hint) to lovers fascinates me. They stumble, they back-peddle, they roil against these unwanted, yet incredible feelings, but in the end what conquers all?

*Love*

For me, the journey is oh, so sweet and thrilling!

Tara ~ There’s a hot sex scene in the middle that has stayed with me, but I have to say Keta has written a stellar prologue!

Tara Nichols: Childhood memories for Halloween

Halloween is fast approaching, a time of year when the sun sets a little earlier and the leaves fall from the trees, leaving behind the skeletal braches back lit by the moon.

Strangely enough, that is the same setting in the spring but it just doesn’t seem quite as spooky.

The last half of October is all about being scared, death, thrills and chills, and that’s the way we like it. (Not all of us of course. My son finds plastic rotting corpses and eyeballs on the end of a pen distasteful, but he’s four)

Halloween is my second favorite holiday, (Valentine’s Day takes the number one position), and I thought on what it is that I like about Halloween so much. Is it the candy? Not anymore? Is it the costumes, mmm, somewhat. Is it the fact that everyone sneaks about trying to scare the pants off all the others? Why yes! That’s it.



Okay, so why? Are we adrenaline junkies? Probably.

That would explain why, as a kid, we watched cheesy B grade horror movies at sleepovers before bed then lay in the dark gripping my sleeping with my eyes wide open until dawn.

It also explains why my cousin and I used to stand at either end of our long hallway with heavy blankets over our heads then walk toward each other, all the time tensed and ready for the thrilling moment when we would crash into one another, or why we pushed the limits and occasionally slept out in the woods, far away from the house.

I have an active imagination, which is a handy feature in regards to writing, but not so handy when I’m walking in the dark alone. It’s at those moments I can convince myself that shadow up ahead is a half decayed zombie (one of the scariest ghouls in my mind). My heart starts pumping extra hard, my fingers turn cold, and I struggle to take another step forward. I’m sure we all had had those moments.



It’s times like that when having a pal around is really handy, unless that pal is as scared as you and won’t stop voicing the images haunting their thoughts. My cousin was terrible for that.

I remember one night in particular when we had just watched a rather gory werewolf movie then slept out in the yard inside their camper. We stayed up until three a.m. chatting happily then retired to bed, and everything was fine until she told me she thought she saw something move just outside the window.

I DIDN’T NEED TO KNOW THAT!

Damage done, we lay there, shivering under the blankets waiting for something to pounce, until one of us decided it might be better to sleep in the house that night. Great idea, I thought, but we still had to walk the length of the camper and get to the house.

Dragging blankets behind us, we edged our way down the long aisle, my cousin shining the flashlight out the windows, then when our feet touched the ground we ran shrieking and screaming to the house.

I knew, deep in my heart, she hadn’t actually seen a werewolf, but I simply could not harness my fear and remain calm, and seeing as I woke in the morning stiff and achy because my cousin had slept ON TOP of me told me she couldn’t either.

The idea of werewolves, vampires, and other icky ghouls is an old one but probably came about in much the same fashion. Some ancestor saw something shift among the shadows and let their imagination do the talking. Back then we sought explanations for the unexplained to make sense of things such as rabies, leprosy, ball lightening, and herbalist hermits who cooked tea in a large cauldron, and even though we have scientific explanations now, it’s still hard to convince oneself of the facts in the moment.

And those days when I have stayed up late working on my latest paranormal I can’t help the fear I take back to bed with me. For as logical as I am most of the time, I still leap into bed from time to time, just in case something slimy is lurking beneath waiting to grab my ankles.

Happy Halloween.

www.tarasnichols.webs.com
http://tarasnichols.blogspot.com


Currently I have eight books published. One of those is a paranormal.

Check out my erotic vampire novella (Book One), Awakening the Blood at Amira Press: http://www.amirapress.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=11&products_id=229

Special thanks to Feebleminds free fantasy pictures http://www.feebleminds-gifs.com/.

Go jump in the lake

If someone said “Go jump in the lake” you’d think they were telling you to take a hike, right? Well, when it was as hot as it was last Monday, you might just take them up on it, and that is just what I did.

Manitoba, the province where I live, has ever changing weather. One moment it is freezing, and the next the sun is threatening to bake your brains. That’s just the type of day Monday turned out to be, first cold, (cold enough to wear a sweater and many layers), then hot by late afternoon.

Unlike my travel companions, I’d climbed into the family car, destined for a drive through Lake of the Woods, (an area known to most Canadians as an area of great recreation), dressed in jeans, t-shirt, and hoodie. Everyone else anticipated the chill in the air would give way to sunshine, and they wore light clothing, t-shirts, shorts, even bathing suits!

Driving for two hours we reached our destination just as the thermostat read 30 degrees Celsius. Sparkling lakes scatter the landscape in various sizes, from large to small, shallow to deep, but all have one thing in common, soft, golden, glacier temperature water.

I felt rather smug watching my family held their breath and gritted their teeth as the waves lapped at their mid sections, but I have to admit, it did look refreshing, and I started to long for other clothing options.

I had other reasons for covering up too. We’ve had a cool, rainy summer, and my legs are as white as the snow most commonly covering this flat region. Were I to show much skin, the beach dwellers might have a new reason to wear sunglasses.

My discomfort must have been obvious. Eventually my mother in law suggested I join them, simply jump in, jeans and all.

Jump in? In my clothes? How absurd. Yet, tempting.

I looked at the water with longing, then to my long restrictive clothing. I stood, dusted myself off, then did as she suggested, and took a flying leap in the lake. It was cold, cold enough to make me shriek, gasp, hold my breath until I turned blue, but at least I wasn’t hot anymore. And swimming in jeans isn’t as bad as it sounds, sure it’s not as freeing as a tiny spandex bathingsuit, and no where near the thrill of skinny dipping, but when you’re as hot as a fire alarm fire, you think it’s the best gig going.

It made me think of another time when wearing that much clothing in the water was a normal thing, and any less was scandalous! I mean, I could’ve been wearing something like this.

I splashed about, barely held back by the weight of my waterlogged jeans, and eventually hauled myself out of the lake, entirely refreshed.

I sat in the back seat, on a bundle of towels, in my squelchy, dripping, tight jeans, with enough sand lining the insides to make a beach envious. By the time we got home I was nearly dry.

Was it worth it? Heck yes.

Tara Nichols
http://tarasnichols.blogspot.com
www.tarasnichols.com

Three books: introducing Tara Nichols

Oasis of My Heart

Sadie Davies is running away for the second time in her life. She had been fifteen and in search of stardom the first time she ran away to the city. This time she is running from it.

After buying a rundown farm house near where she grew up, Sadie plans to search for the family she abandoned so many years ago. Intending to keep a low profile she sets up for a simplistic, solitary life but with sexy, know-it-all, neighbor Dustin Reed she finds it rather difficult, and he’s as complicated as they come.


Secrets of Summer

It has been years since Pyper has seen any sign of Liam Patterson so she is surprised when he reappears outside his old stomping grounds. More surprising is when he addresses her by her name. By the looks of Liam very little had changed about the beach loving playboy.

He was just as handsome and just as flirtatious, although it never was her he had been flirting with, until now. As their secrets unravel both summer residents are faced with the thought of never returning to Victoria Beach, the place where their fantasies began.

See more details of both at Cobblestone Press.


Awakening the Blood

Reeling from her recent break up, Meara ditches a Halloween party held in a cemetery at the edge of town, and seeks out the one reliable man in her life - who just happens to be a statue with large bat wings. The winged man had always intrigued her, but that just seems to go along with her other idiosyncrasies – her ability to read emotions and dream the future.

Even after years imprisoned in marble, D'iamonte can feel and see everything that goes on around him. Most of the time, his encounters have been unpleasant, but when his beautiful young mortal comes calling, late one Halloween, he is surprised and pleased that she feels bold enough to crawl in to his lap and have her way with him.

Neither of them expects him to wake up.

More at Amira Press. 'Awakening the Blood' is the first book in what I hope to be three.