Moonlight, Lace and Mayhem Give DECADENT DECEPTIONS
by Keta Diablo
Five out of Five Moonlit Kisses
About the Book:
Olivia is a free spirited individual that is delivered the unthinkable news in her father’s will…marry in six months or she’ll forever be dependent upon her brother’s benevolence. She isn’t the type of girl to sit back and let her future come to her, so she takes matters into her own hands. With her mind made up on who she wants as her husband, she convinces her brother and his best friend, Morgan, to let her embark upon some recklessness that would plunge her into scandal and ruin her reputation if caught. Under Morgan’s tutelage she embarks upon her wild adventure that takes a sharp path into murder and treachery.
Olivia and Morgan were extremely enjoyable characters for me. Easy to read, believable and had me turning the page—er…rather scrolling to the next page—quickly. Morgan was sexy and just overbearing enough not to be stifling, while Olivia was witty, determined and funny.
Typically, I’m not a historical reader, just dedicated to a remaining few authors and that is it. I prefer my romances, dark and sultry with a paranormal setting. So, I went into this book thinking I’d read a couple of pages, a chapter or two at most and then get back to my own writing. Ha! Boy, was I surprised when I didn’t want to stop reading it! To add further insult to injury, I was forced to stop reading it long enough to eat dinner with my family. I was the most unsociable individual that night at the dinner table because all I could think about was getting back to Decadent Deceptions.
This was a hot, erotic read, with a little bit of spicy voyeurism thrown into the mix. The characters Ms. Diablo created were fun, witty and even zany at times. They were a joy to read and I found myself sad when the novel ended just because I loved the characters. So, I give Decadent Deceptions by Keta Diablo Five out of Five Moonlit Kisses!
Blurb From Publisher:
Daring and desperate to win Morgan’s love, Olivia Breedlove embarks on a reckless folly. But everything backfires when Morgan remains one step ahead of her and the game ventures down a path of duplicity and murder.
A decade ago, Morgan was a heartbeat away from taking Olivia’s virginity. Her father, Thaddeus, intervened and threatened to meet him over pistols if he so much as looked at his daughter again. But now, Thaddeus is dead and Morgan has no intention of ignoring the ravenous hunger he’s harbored for the blasted woman for ten years.
One way or the other, he will quench this burning desire and make her his forever.
Content Alert: Voyuerism, BUY FROM NOBLE ROMANCE
From Chapter Seven
Morgan had been so lost in thought he almost failed to see Olivia ducking into the mercantile across the street in town. Almost. Silently he thanked his lucky stars. He intended to have a drink prior to calling on Madame Rousseau, but now that fate had intervened and placed the Goddess of his breath in his path, he altered course. Pushing the door open amid a melodic chiming of bells, he searched for her down every aisle. Finally he found her among the bolts of fabric, her brow creased, her selective eyes glancing between the terra-cotta and its sibling cinnamon.
“Why don’t you purchase both?” he said from over her shoulder.
She turned and looked at him, her searching gaze a mixture of surprise, and dare he think, subtle delight?
“Morgan, what-whatever are you doing here?”
“I desired a drink and intended to follow it up with a visit to Immortelles.”
“Immortelles?” Her eyes widened, and a blush rose in her cheeks. “You frequent the establishment in the middle of the afternoon?”
“Under a blue moon, in the afternoon, whenever the fancy strikes.”
“You’re incorrigible,” she said, her eyes sparking.
“You misunderstand me. I mean only to observe, not partake.”
Giving him the direct cut, she placed the fabrics back onto the shelf and said, “Good day to you, then.”
Denying her a chance to bolt, he grabbed her elbow, ushered her to the back of the store and backed her into a wall. With his hands at the sides of her head, palms flat against the hard surface, he said, “Join me.”
Bewilderment masked her features. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t look at me like that. You know you’re itching to return.”
A stillness fell over her.
“Why not with me?” It wasn’t easy to torment her while she looked at him with those green-spoked eyes, but he wanted to be near her, had an overwhelming urge to watch firsthand her sudden interest in carnal lust. “Unless, of course, you’re afraid,” he said goading her.
His words effectuated the desired response. Her spine stiffened and her chin swept up. “You’re the one who should be afraid,” she said smugly. “Especially since you can’t control, shall we say, a certain growing interest whenever a woman merely falls into your lap.”
It was clearly a taunt, and oh, how he wanted to toss her onto the floor, take her like a common camp follower and show her she had been equally affected. Realizing any such action would put an immediate halt to his pending suggestion, he gathered his wits.
Catching her chin in the firm grip of his hand, he pressed on. “Yes or no, do you have the courage?”
“You’re mad,” she said on a half-laugh. “People will see us; it’s broad daylight.”
“No, they won’t.” He pointed to the back door. “That leads to the alleyway, and one block away is another back door to the brothel. I assure you, not a soul will notice us slip out of here and slip into there.” She glanced around the room furtively. “I double-dare you,” he said with emphasis.
“You’re certain no one will know?”
He crossed his heart, and without waiting for her to change her mind, led her through the back door and into the alleyway. Arriving at Immortelles within minutes, he ushered her through the door and down the hall to a room. It had all happened so quickly, he had a hard time reconciling that his plans were to speak with Madame first. Instead, he found himself about to enter a peep room with the woman who made his blood clot.
“Don’t tell me.” She paused at the door, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You have a standing appointment to voyeur? You can just walk into the brothel in the middle of the afternoon and go directly to a peep room?”
“I told you, I planned to call on Madame today. I sent a missive this morning,” he said and pushed the door open. “It has all been prearranged.”
“You prearranged it?”
With a nod, he pointed to the chairs, about to offer a lame answer when she said, “How convenient, two peepholes.”
“There are those who adore having company while they engage in voyeurism.”
“I’m not one of them,” she said with narrowed eyes. “In fact, I find it a little crass.”
“Pretend I am not here.”
“And how am I supposed to accomplish that with the holes mere inches apart?” She looked at the seating arrangement. “And the chairs nearly on top of one another?”
“Sit,” he said calmly, directing her into the plush cushion.
She shot him a lethal glare and slumped into the chair. He was delighted with the layout. He eased himself down beside her and inwardly smiled. They were shoulder-to-shoulder, thigh-to-thigh.