Release Blitz + Giveaway: Shelton in Love by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and IndiGo Marketing returns with new release blitz for contemporary romance, Shelton in Love! Find out more about the friends to lovers romance and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Shelton in Love

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/14/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 58700

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, friends to lovers, marriage, contemporary, roommate

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Description

Shelton is falling hard for his best friend and roommate, finding Nevil’s dark good looks and moments of gentleness almost impossible to resist. But Nevil is more interested in affairs of the body than the heart. As Shelton’s desire for the man grows, he wonders if he can change Nevil’s mind. But does he even want to? Nevil might not stay once he learns Shelton’s secret, and then his loneliness would be complete.

Shelton in Love is told in five stories spanning two and a half years of Shelton and Nevil’s relationship, the ups and downs, trials and celebrations, with a promise, a separation, a frantic return, temptation and a final triumph. Sometimes Shelton finds it difficult to love a beautiful man, but Nevil is worth the effort.

Excerpt

Shelton in Love
Dianne Hartsock © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Shelton ignored the flutter in his stomach he always experienced when invited into Nevil’s room and settled back into the cushions of the chair. “Who’s the lucky color?” he asked, trying to feign indifference.

Nevil drew a pair of socks from the top drawer of the bureau at random. “Ah, the gray ones.”

“What? Percy again? Didn’t you have him earlier in the week?”

“So what? These socks have never let me down,” Nevil countered and rubbed the soft wool against his cheek, purring like a happy kitten.

Shelton’s stomach knotted at the decadent smile on Nevil’s face. Nevil had made it clear when they had first met he’d enjoy sleeping with him. The jealousy eating Shelton now was his own fault, but was it wrong of him to want more from Nevil than a passing fling?

He shoved away the thought of sharing a meaningful relationship with Nevil, knowing it could never happen. However, the desire made Nevil’s flirtation all the more hurtful. “Fine, but if you make the man fall in love with you, you can buy us an answering machine and listen to his calls when I’m not home. I don’t want to hear him whine when you break it off.”

Nevil looked at him, raising a finely arched brow. “Who says I’ll break it off?”

“Get real. You’ll be bored in less than a week. Remember Daniel Pratte? You scarcely managed six days with him after swearing to all who’d listen you’d love him forever. He called for weeks after you told him it was over, hoping you’d be the one to pick up the phone. Admittedly, he was a bit of a prig, but I’m the one who had to listen to him sobbing his heart out. I refuse to do that with Percy.”

“Danny wasn’t the right man for me. I haven’t made up my mind about Percy.” Nevil unknowingly twisted the knife deeper into Shelton’s heart. Shelton held his breath when Nevil sat back against the headboard and lifted his foot onto the bed, pushing up the cuff of his tan Dockers. Moistening his lips, Shelton fought his attraction as he watched Nevil pull the sock over his foot and up a muscular calf. He was a faithful jogger and in May already had the beginnings of a fabulous tan.

Shelton’s treacherous gaze followed the fine dark hair up Nevil’s leg until it disappeared under the cuff of his pants. Captivated, his gaze continued upward to where the fabric tented nicely at the juncture of his thighs. His heart skipped a beat when Nevil shifted on the bed and the material pressed against a definite bulge.

Panicked, he raised his head, hoping Nevil hadn’t observed his interest. Nevil’s beautiful blue-green eyes watched him; then Nevil cocked an eyebrow. Shelton pushed to his feet from the chair, his face burning at Nevil’s slightly mocking smile. “I’m going to make a sandwich. Do you want one?”

“No, thanks. I need to save room for dessert,” Nevil reminded him as his tongue flicked over his lips. An image of Percy’s nicely rounded butt in tight jeans flashed through Shelton’s mind.

“Suit yourself,” Shelton muttered, watching as Nevil crossed his legs to leisurely pull on the second sock. Tearing his gaze from the provocative sight before acting on the impulse to join Nevil on the bed and strip him of clothing, Shelton left the room and stomped to the kitchen, grabbing meat and cheese from the refrigerator. He swore under his breath as he slathered mayonnaise on the bread, hating Percy and every other man represented in the myriad of colored socks in Nevil’s top drawer.

Eating at the counter, he glanced up to find Nevil leaning against the door frame watching him. Shelton wondered what the thoughtful look on his face meant.

“Do you have plans?” Nevil asked after a moment.

“Tera wants to do a photo shoot down by the lake.”

“Now? The sun will be down in an hour.”

Shelton shrugged. “She’s your sister. Think you can talk your twin out of a course of action when she’s made up her mind to do it? I can’t.”

Nevil snorted. “Neither can I.” He straightened. “Well, I’m off. See you later, darling,” he said as if they were a couple. Shelton felt the blood mount in his cheeks, infuriated by his callousness. Nevil had to be aware of his feelings for him. Why did he feel it was necessary to flaunt his lovers in his face?

Remembering the sandwich in his hands, he glowered at it, no longer hungry. Climbing off the stool, he tossed the sandwich in the garbage under the sink, wrinkling his nose at the ripe odor that wafted from the canister.

Shelton’s shoulders slumped, and he leaned a hip against the counter, discouraged. Maybe it was time to admit defeat and move out. He and Nevil had become friends when his firm had hired Nevil’s architectural company to design their new office building. They’d moved in together when the project was completed, Shelton finding Nevil’s dark good looks, dry humor, and moments of gentleness on the edge of irresistible.

He’d hoped that with proximity, the attraction between them would grow into a more lasting connection. He let out a dejected breath, realizing it was his own fault it hadn’t. Shelton had never shared with Nevil the true reason why he wouldn’t sleep with him.

I’m afraid. It’s that simple.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Birthday Presents by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and IndiGo Marketing returns to the blog with a new release blitz for Birthday Presents! Like thrillers? Check out today's stop and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Birthday Presents

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/08/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 47500

Genre: Horror/Thriller, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, suspense, crime, serial killer, law enforcement, kidnapping

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Description

Crimson loves to dance. He adores watching the pretty boys grind to the frantic beat of the music and picking out his lover for the evening. But more than that, he lives for his birthday, that one day a year he gives into his darker impulses: choosing a young man to lure into the alleyway with promises of sex, then slitting his throat in the midst of their passion and reveling in the hot blood on his hands.

For Tracey Winston, life has become a nightmare. Kidnapped from a nightclub in Boulder, Colorado, brutalized and raped by Crimson, he’s held captive in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains along with sweet Kyle, a young man Crimson keeps chained to his bed and is slowly torturing to death. Though Tracey manages to escape with Kyle’s help, he has to leave Kyle behind in Crimson’s cruel hands.

Detective Gene Mallory has never stopped looking for his brother Kyle, kidnapped from a nightclub seven months previously. The case breaks open when Tracey Winston comes forth at the urging of his new boyfriend, claiming to have knowledge of where Crimson is hiding out. A manhunt begins with Crimson continuously slipping through their net. Lives are on the line, with both Gene and Tracey being targeted by the killer. A traitor in their midst tips Crimson off to their plans.

Crimson’s birthday has come and gone, and he will kill again.

Excerpt

Birthday Presents
Dianne Hartsock © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
Excitement plucked at Crimson’s nerves, and he licked his lips, his blood surging to the merciless drumbeat. He rolled his hips to the music, an old White Zombie album, the static only adding to the nostalgia. Raising his arms, he pictured the hot body he’d grind against at the club that night, young, slim, rounded ass snug against him. Maybe he’d get his hands under his shirt, a finger in the guy’s pants stroking the wet tip of his cock.

He imagined the breathy moans in the dark alley afterward. The scared whimpers, screams muffled by Crimson’s hand clamped over the gorgeous lips he’d ravaged of their sweetness moments before. He felt the hard knife in his hand and shuddered, envisioning the hot blood pumping over his skin when he slit the vulnerable throat. Fuck, he loved his birthday!

Tossing the comb he’d run over his long hair onto the cluttered vanity, he then trailed fine-boned fingers over his chest and flat stomach. Pert nipples ached to be teased. A secret smile slid over his black-painted lips as he cupped the bulge in his tight jeans. What boy could resist this?

After adding a black tee shirt, he searched the dark eyes in the mirror, pursed his lips. Gloss? Definitely. He knew a certain bouncer at the club who was susceptible to Cherry Kiss. Well, that and Crimson’s mouth on his dick.

He narrowed his lids at the crescent moon scar under his left eye, temper flaring through him. Though healed, the skin was still an angry red. That bitch Tracey…

Crimson willed his hands to unclench. Nothing that a little concealer couldn’t make disappear. A thump sounded on the wall, and a frown marred the perfect features in the mirror. Kyle knew better than to disturb him while he was dressing. His face softened. Kyle. His little gem. How long had they been together? Six months?

The eyes in his reflection widened. That would make Kyle twenty. He’d forgotten they shared a birthday.

“Crimson’s coming, angel,” he murmured and grinned viciously at the name, blood and pain and death. He’d used other aliases in the past, but this was by far his favorite.

With a last glance in the mirror, he left the room and crossed the hall, tapping on Kyle’s door before entering. Kyle lay in the middle of the bed, his pale skin decadent against the red silk sheets. His darling looked lonely. Of course he did, with Tracey’s side of the bed empty. How many times had he stood at the foot of the bed to watch them play together? Or join in, lost in the haze of sweat-slicked skin and hard cocks, lips and tongues and roving fingers, pain and ecstasy.

But yesterday Tracey had left them as if their time together meant nothing, betraying Crimson’s trust. He drew several deep breaths, letting the anger roll through him, then out in an exhale. Tracey was dead to him.

“Did you need me, sweetheart?” he asked as he lay down and gathered Kyle in his arms. His skin felt dry, soft, tight over a sparse skeleton. Crimson could break his bones if he held too tightly.

Kyle’s enormous light blue eyes swam with tears, bright with desperation. So lovely. “You’re leaving again?” he whispered, timid.

“We’ve discussed this. I always go out on my birthday.”

“But if something happens to you…”

“I suppose you’ll die of starvation. No, thirst.” Crimson laughed at the shiver that swept the emaciated body. “Nothing will happen to me. Promise.”

Crimson picked up Kyle’s shackled hand with its long chain bolted to the floor and kissed the palm. He stroked Kyle’s limp cock and watched with satisfaction as it thickened under his touch. “Would you like me to fuck you tonight?”

Kyle nodded, despair in his eyes. Crimson kissed his sweet lips, his heart moved. Kyle had been a wild thing during their first months together. Running his hands over the thin chest, he regretted the scars he’d had to put on the pale flesh before Kyle had broken. He twisted a pale nipple and grew hard at the gasp and shudder from his lover.

He leaned up on an elbow. There was no reason he couldn’t stay and play with Kyle before he left. His cock ached with the thought. No. Denied lust would add a delicious edge to the evening. But still…

Leaning across Kyle to the bedside table, he fingered the silver nipple clamps. His baby loved those. The plug? No, he wanted Kyle nice and tight when he got home. Cursing the time, he gave Kyle a last passionate kiss. “I’ll be home soon.”

Kyle rolled against him, wrapping him in skinny arms. “Don’t go. Stay with me. I’m afraid when you go.”

“Hush, baby. You won’t even know I’m gone.” He kissed Kyle’s damp eyes and licked his tears.

Crimson reluctantly left the bed. Kyle’s pleas tempted him, but he had something to take care of before he could wring pain and pleasure from his lover’s body. He whistled on the way downstairs, pulling on thin black gloves. Grabbing up his keys from the hook by the door, he then stepped into the afternoon sunshine and drew a deep breath of the warm, pine-scented air. It was a twenty-minute drive into town, which left plenty of time for shopping and a meal before the clubs opened. Perfect.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Giveaway

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Luka by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and IndiGo Marketing host today's release blitz for Luka from NineStar Press! Read more about the paranormal romance and enter in the $10 NSP credit giveaway!

Title: Luka

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/11/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 72200

Genre: Paranormal, LGBTQIA+, age gap, witches, sorcerers, fae, magic, second chances

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Description

Luka makes a desperate wish and the earth shifts to his will. Regretting it immediately, he tries to undue the sorcery, but it is too late. He asked for hope, and to his horror, all the hope in the world is given into his keeping. He desires nothing more than to return this gift to the world.

Aethan wants to get his hands on the Well of Hope in Luka’s keeping. If he can ransom out hope to others at his whim, the world will be at his feet. Where it belongs.

With the aid of his lover, Rhys, Luka stays one step ahead of Aethan. But Rhys has his own enemy in Aethan, his estranged father.

Rescued by Luka, his sweet, gentle witch, Rhys now stands with him against Aethan. They have vowed to return the Well of Hope to the earth despite all odds, or die trying. For what is life worth, for anyone, without hope?

Excerpt

Luka
Dianne Hartsock © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Luka settled cross-legged on the hearth with a murmured word of gratitude to the fire as its warmth surrounded him. Keeping a veiled eye on the woodpile, he crumbled a crust of bread and honey onto the stones. The animals had grown skittish of late, and he missed their company on his long tramps through the forest. The cabin had grown lonely without Rhys’s vibrant presence.

The thoughts of his lover sent his gaze to the small stack of books he kept close at hand to leaf through during the long empty nights. He’d rescued the young man from a brutish existence at the hands of a madman, and the stories were all that would ease his frantic, tortured mind. Rhys would sit close to Luka while Luka read the heroic tales until his head would nod, and he’d slump into Luka’s arms, a warm, living presence in his solitary life.

Luka raised his head, attentive. Winter gathered outside the latched door, wind howling through the trees, sending their limbs scratching along the roof. A shiver traveled up his spine. Something darker than the storm was coming.

The fire snapped in a shower of sparks, recalling his attention. He drew a small bundle of twigs from a pocket, cupped it in his worn, nut-brown hands, and breathed in the scent of juniper and sage. Chanting the words his mother had taught him long ago, he tossed the clump into the flames. A tendril of smoke rose, twirled in lazy circles in the air and brushed against his face.

He breathed deeply, holding in his lungs the heady smoke of the sage and grasses he’d gathered by the stream last autumn. His thoughts cleared. He saw everything! Snow whipped through the darkness between the trees, carried on the fierce wind. His beloved animals huddled in the scrub brush for safety and warmth. The village beyond the forest barred its doors, fires lit, safe inside while the storm raged.

His thoughts soared, bursting into the moonlit landscape above the clouds. Laughing aloud, his spirit flew in wonder, heart aching at the beauty of the night. But something tugged at his heart, his name shouted on the wind. He blinked at tears, bringing the fire back into focus, the cabin solid around him. Night pressed on the shuttered windows. Something was in the night…

Luka’s heart leaped. He comes! A soft cry of joy escaped him, and he rose in one fluid motion to his feet. He’d sent Rhys away to find love elsewhere than in the arms of a lonely witch, and yet he came, daring the storm.

“Come to me,” he urged the solitary figure in his mind’s eye, struggling up the path to reach him. A tremor seized him. Long years of bartering his herbs and potions to the villagers had passed while he waited with hope and dread for Rhys’s return, darkness at his heels.

He crossed the wooden floor of the cabin, logs he’d hewn and planed himself, lighting the candles with a word as he passed, filling the room with light. Luka paused at the door, hand hesitant on the latch. He had enemies beyond this safe threshold. What if Rhys had gone to them in his bitterness and returned now for revenge? Luka closed his eyes, seeing again the pain on Rhys’s youthful face, the confusion in his eyes when Luka told him to go, and closed the door on his anguished pleas.

A rap on the door sent his pulse racing. Love and doubt warred inside him, but he had to know, see the truth of it. He opened the door a crack; icy wind whistled in. A figure stood on his step, the heavy cloak clutched against the cold obscuring his features. Who was this? He swung the door wider. The energy was all wrong. But Luka would welcome him in whatever guise he wore.

He opened his hungry arms, but Rhys shook his head and looked up, candlelight spilling on his pale face, grown older. “You sent me away—brokenhearted.” Rhys’s voice was deeper than he remembered. “If I cross this threshold, I won’t leave again. Be very sure.”

Luka trembled, searching the beloved features, and mourned the sweet innocence that was missing. Snow sifted through the trees adding to the weight on Rhys’s shoulders, and Luka swallowed his doubts. “Come inside.” He tugged on Rhys’s sleeve, unable to mask his eagerness. His heart stumbled, then leaped, seeing a flash of elation in Rhys’s eyes.

Rhys stepped into the cottage in a flurry of cold air and snow, and Luka hastily closed and latched the door behind him. He turned, and his lips parted in a startled gasp. Rhys had removed his cloak, snow already melting on the warm floor. His golden hair fell loosely to his shoulders, and his body filled out the tunic and trousers he wore in a way it hadn’t five years ago. He had grown into a handsome man, the fine wool of his clothing attesting he’d done well in the village.

Suddenly conscious of his frayed sleeves and ink-stained fingers, the silver now threading his dark braid of hair, Luka glanced away. His gaze fell on the books and parchment littering every surface, candle wax spilled on the tabletops. A thick layer of dust covered the bookshelves, except for the volumes he used for reference. He chewed a lip, troubled.

“Come to the fire,” he offered, taking Rhys’s cloak to hang on a peg. “There’s a stew simmering on the hearth.”

Rhys touched his shoulder, halting him. “A moment. I’ve come to warn you. Your old enemy—”

“Is coming. This I know. We’ll talk of it later. Please, come to the fire. You must be cold.”

“Luka.”

Luka swiveled sharply at the command in Rhys’s voice, a thrill rushing through him. So much courage from his once timid lover. Was this the same man he’d rescued? The young lad of seventeen years, chained and beaten in a dank cellar? Rhys wouldn’t speak of his parents back then, saying only he’d lived on the charity of others—until he’d been snared, captive to a cruel man’s dark appetites.

Rhys’s soul had cried out in anguish from his prison, finding Luka’s heart, drawing him deep into the forest to the monster’s isolated hut. Luka had eluded the dark sorcerer, freeing the lad and taking him into his home. And later, into his bed, a moth to Rhys’s bright flame, his heart opened for the first time in uncounted years to love and promise.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram | Pinterest

Giveaway

a Rafflecopter giveaway 

 

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Little Match Girl by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and IndiGo Marketing visit with the Little Match Girl release blitz! Check out today's stop and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Little Match Girl

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 12/21/2020

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/NB

Length: 21400

Genre: Contemporary Holiday, LGBTQIA+, Contemporary, Genderqueer, Found Family, friends to lovers, coffee shop romance, Holiday

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Description

Christian can’t help himself. He’s falling in love with the sweet guy who’s been coming into the sandwich shop for the past several months. But Christian’s been avoiding the candle-seller all year, going so far as to cross the street to avoid walking by him. Ashamed, he wonders if Dani can ever forgive him.

Losing his mother to cancer, Dani has spent the last year in a haze of grief and loneliness. His life is selling candles, giving himself to any man who can pay, and saving himself from having to go home to his father’s brutality.

Desperate for a place to belong, Dani sets out, with Christian’s help, to find his mother’s family. Christian wants Dani to be happy, though the cost might be losing Dani forever.

Excerpt

Little Match Girl
Dianne Hartsock © 2020
All Rights Reserved

Chapter One
The door chimed, but Christian finished wiping down the coffee machine. He didn’t want to appear too eager despite his thumping heart. He ran the rag over the counter, scrutinizing the bright reflection of lights on the gleaming surface from the Christmas Giving Tree in the center of the room; the tree empty of its cards the day after Christmas.

“Hey, Christian, isn’t that your fairy?” Jordan mocked in a stage whisper from where he was adding wood to the glowing embers in the fireplace on the far wall. Asshole.

Christian leaned a hip on the counter, his gaze intent on the guy sliding into the corner booth. He came to the sandwich shop nearly every night right before closing time to order a coffee, rain or shine. Or like tonight, when it was beginning to snow. None of the other servers would deal with him. Not that Christian blamed them. Dani never tipped more than fifty cents, if that much.

That didn’t bother him. The man was beautiful—wispy blond hair cut in a pixie style around his sweet face. Big gray eyes full of shadows. Christian gave him a minute to count out his change on the glossy tabletop the way he always did, then approached him around the scattered tables and sofas. The fireplace warmed the cozy seating area, empty now since most of the students from the nearby college had gone home for winter break. Wind howled at the windows, but they were snug enough inside.

“Hi, Dani. How’s it going?” he asked, as usual.

“I’m good,” came Dani’s standard reply in a lilting voice that made Christian’s pulse jump. Dani peered up at him, his expression somehow softer tonight, his spectacular eyes less fierce. He bit a plump lip, betraying his nerves, and Christian stifled a groan. He’d dreamed of those lips wrapping around his dick only the night before.

As if guessing his thoughts, Dani lowered his gaze, pretty color flooding his cheeks. Christ, he was gorgeous, his features neither masculine nor feminine. If Christian didn’t know for a fact he was a man, he would have thought Dani was a girl tonight, despite his rough clothing. There was something decidedly sweet about him, a definite change when he showed his gentler side. Christian wondered what it would be like to have Dani in his bed in this mood. The thought of him, soft and yielding, in direct contrast to a hard cock, had Christian stiffening inconveniently. He took the seat opposite Dani in the booth to hide his interest.

“Hi,” he said again when Dani gave him a tentative glance. “Coffee and sandwich, as usual?”

Hunger flashed over Dani’s face, but he dropped his gaze and moved the coins on the table with a fine-boned finger. “Only coffee, please.” His voice cracked, and he covered his eyes with a shaky hand. “I’m sorry. I barely have enough money for that. Nothing for a tip.”

“I don’t care about that,” Christian said, leaning forward. Only then did he notice how pale Dani appeared, face pinched with cold. Surely his jacket was too thin for December? “Did you eat today?” he asked with concern, and stared when Dani shrugged, noncommittal. Appalled, remembering that Dani hadn’t come in yesterday, Christian unconsciously raised his voice. “Did you eat yesterday?”

Dani made a violent movement as if to stand. “I’ll go—”

“Sit down, please. I’ll get your coffee,” Christian assured him, heart squeezed by Dani’s distress.

He rose to his feet and crossed the room. Rounding the counter, he called into the tiny kitchen where his coworker was washing dishes while he pulled a mug from the cupboard over his head. “Jordan, I’m taking my break. Can you bring me a sandwich and the leftover soup?”

Jordan looked up from the sink and sauntered over to him, drying his hands on a dishtowel. He glanced at their single customer and frowned. “What? You gonna feed the little queer now?”

Anger burned through Christian, and he stepped up to Jordan, raising his chin when Jordan stared at him in surprise. “Just what’s your problem with Dani?”

The redhead blinked, and then a slight sneer curled his lips. “Sorry, man. I know you’re gay and all, but at least you’re a guy. I don’t know what that is.” Jordan flashed Dani a scowl.

Christian balled his hand into a fist. “He’s a fucking human being, asshole. That’s all you need to know. Now, get my dinner.”

He turned back to making the coffee, relieved when Jordan huffed but returned to the kitchen. Jordan was a big guy and could probably snap him in two, but Christian was so over the homophobic crap he dealt with in this small town. He needed to seriously consider moving back to Portland.

Coffee made, he added steamed milk and chocolate. Dani usually had his coffee black, but he definitely needed the calories. Christian peered across the room and smiled. Dani was undeniably lovely in the glow from the fireplace and the twinkling fairy lights encircling the ceiling. What was his story? Christian couldn’t remember seeing him around town, though he’d lived there close to two years, attending the local college.

He joined Dani at the table, delighted when his eyes widened as Christian pushed the mug in front of him, mounded high with whip cream.

“Just drink it,” he warned when Dani opened his mouth as if to protest. The color deepened in Dani’s face, but he obediently picked up a spoon. Christian watched, mesmerized, as he brought a dollop of cream to his mouth, the spoon passing those exquisite lips. Dani’s eyelids instantly fluttered, bliss suffusing his face, starting an ache in the pit of Christian’s gut. He imagined Dani would look like that, lost in orgasm. Something he keenly wanted to see.

Jordan approached the table, and Christian tore his gaze from Dani, frowning when Jordan put the plate he carried down with a thump.

“Hurry and eat,” he groused. “I want to start closing the kitchen.”

“Whatever.” Christian waved him off. Jordan had no grounds to complain, having eaten his dinner an hour ago. The turkey and cheese sandwich was grilled to a golden brown, the tomato and roasted red pepper soup hot and savory. Jordan could be a dick sometimes, but he was a fantastic cook.

Dani stared at the plate of food then glanced away with effort. Damn, the guy must be starving. Christian picked up half the sandwich and pushed the plate toward Dani. “Here. Eat up.”

Dani appeared distressed. “I don’t have the money…”

Christian waved that off. “Don’t worry about it. You can pay me back later.”

Dani seemed startled and then a sad, lost expression crossed his face, but he nodded. “Okay,” he said hoarsely and started on the sandwich. He ate slowly, as if to make it last. The soup followed, and Christian tortured himself watching the slim neck work as Dani swallowed each mouthful. He bet that creamy white skin would taste like sugar under his tongue.

Finished, Dani shyly pulled his coffee mug to him, chewing his lips in a nervous habit Christian had noticed. Christian wanted to lean across the table and kiss those sweet confections. A pot banged in the kitchen, reminding him of the time.

“We’ll be closing soon,” he told Dani kindly. “Why don’t you take your coffee and sit by the fire while we put things to rights?”

Dani nodded, and Christian studied him as he crossed the room to the dwindling fire. His clothes seemed worn and hung loosely off his thin frame. Poor as a church mouse, Christian guessed. Where did he get the money for coffee every night? One of the many questions he meant to get an answer to.

Christian joined Jordan in the kitchen, and they closed down the shop, working with practiced efficiency. When the kitchen was in order, Christian went out to wipe down the tables and was disappointed to find that Dani had left; his coffee mug was sitting empty on the low table beside the hearth. Damn. He’d wanted to talk with him some more.

Once they’d swept the floor and counted the register for the morning deposit at the bank, they left the shop, Jordan locking the door behind them. A gust of icy wind laced with snow struck them, and Christian turned up the collar on his jacket.

“See you tomorrow,” Jordan said with a wave and started down the well-lit sidewalk toward his car. Christian turned in the opposite direction to his own beat-up sedan and jumped, pulse racing, as a figure detached from the wall.

“Dani?”

He nodded, coming up to him. Dani clenched his hands at his sides and raised his chin in defiance. “I’m ready. The alley is dark, or we can go inside where it’s warmer…”

Christian looked at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Payment. You said I could pay you back later. I’m ready.” His face was deathly white, but there was a determined, desperate gleam in his eyes that made Christian’s chest hurt.

“This wasn’t what I meant at all,” he said, needing to be perfectly clear. What kind of life did Dani have that he thought… Yes, he wanted Dani in his bed, but not like this. He moved closer, cupping Dani’s face with care. He leaned in and rested their foreheads together, gazing into the wide, shadow-filled eyes.

“When we have sex, Dani, it will be because you want me to. No other reason,” he promised. Desire flared in Dani’s gray eyes, and Christian touched Dani’s full lips with his thumb, groaning as they parted for him. “Go home, sweetheart, before you catch your death of cold. We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

Dani nodded, eyes glimmering with a few tears. He hesitated as if to say something but shoved his hands in his coat pockets and hastened down the dark street. Christian watched him go, pressing his lips together.

“I’ll find out your story, Dani,” he promised to Dani’s retreating back. After fishing his keys from a pocket, he got in his car and drove carefully on the icy road to the apartment he shared with his college buddies. He hoped Dani didn’t have far to walk on this cold night.

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Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination. 

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: Belega (The Karthagans #1) by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and Other Worlds Ink visit on the Belega (The Karthagans #1) blog tour! Learn more about the first in the fantasy series and enter in the $20 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Dianne Hartsock has a new MM fantasy romance book out, The Karthagans Book One: "Belega."

The Karthagans have regained their ancient powers of manipulating nature, but at the price of madness. In their lust for control they’ve destroyed their island and most of their race. They come now to Belega where one of them, Camron, seeks domination over the known world.

The Mage has come from the northern continent of Sennia to bring peace, but finding his strength no match for the coming struggle, he passes his abilities on to Natan, who only desires a simple life. Now only Natan has the ability to stop Camron, but the personal cost is more than he imagines.

It is only with the combined strength of his friends, his Karthagan lover, Kavi, and his deep desire to bring peace to the earth, that he finds the courage to overcome Camron and restore balance to the world. The power of the mind is immense.

In this world, mankind has learned to gather the energies of creation to use at their whim. But absolute power corrupts absolutely.

Publisher | Amazon | Amazon UK | Amazon CANBarnes & Noble | QueeRomance Ink

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Giveaway

Dianne is giving away a $20 Amazon gift card with this tour – enter via Rafflecopter:

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Excerpt

“I have you.”

Natan rose into a low crouch from the scrub brush, careful not to scrape his cloak against the foliage, and searched his memory for the trick Kavi had taught him. Oh, yes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, releasing all worries. His expectations. Letting go. The clip of the horse’s hooves echoed in his mind and he concentrated on that, the smell of the horse, the feel of its hide, the oats on its breath. He became aware of a vague fear in the animal’s mind.

But then the tenuous connection broke without time to try again as the soldier leading the roan brought him to a stop, his gaze sweeping the path ahead, alert. Gathering his scattered wits as best he could, Natan lunged to his feet and dove for the soldier’s legs. They went down hard, Natan gasping at the whoosh of air against his cheek as the horse reared, hooves barely missing him. Knowing he was no match for the soldier physically, he scrambled to jab a knee into the man’s back, then drew his thin knife and pressed it against the pulse at his throat and felt him stiffen.

“Hold very still,” he warned. The soldier didn’t move as the keen blade inadvertently nicked his skin. Recalling Kavi’s imprisonment, Natan gritted his teeth and swung his arm back, then brought the hilt of the knife down sharply on his vulnerable skull. The man went limp with a grunt. Natan climbed to his feet, cursing under his breath as the horse disappeared up the trail. He rolled the man over so his face wouldn’t be in the dirt, making sure he could breathe without difficulty.

Frowning at the thick trees crowding them, he left his captive a moment to scout the vicinity, at last coming upon a small clearing off the trail. It took some effort to drag the unconscious soldier to the spot, and a relief to roll the heavy body down the last few feet. He retrieved leather strips from his pack and bound the man’s hands and feet to a small sapling, and examined the soldier’s head once again. Although the purplish welt had swollen, the bleeding had stopped.

Natan watched the soldier a moment, and shook his head in disgust when he didn’t waken. “Hit him too hard,” he muttered, angry with himself. He built a small fire as the air grew chilly, and sat with his back to a tree while he waited for the soldier to regain consciousness. Darkness descended on the forest and he chewed his lips in growing anxiety. Bryon had gone to Nagal to petition the Mage to help them recover Kavi. Had he reached the city yet? If so, Natan would need to be at the Lake of Glass to meet with them in a few short days. A lifetime, while Kavi remained captive.

He sharpened his knife on a whetstone to pass the time while the soldier remained unconscious. The stars came out and an ache crept into his chest as he thought of Kavi and how they used to lie awake and watch for falling stars. Natan would make them tea in a little pot over the fire, and they’d wrap in warm blankets and talk quietly while the sky wheeled overhead. Sometimes they made love, Kavi’s warm sleek body pliant as Natan searched out new ways to draw those sweet breathy moans from his lips.

And then it had all ended. Natan closed his eyes at the jab of pain in his heart. The Nagal soldiers had come to their camp and dragged Kavi away, laughing when Natan struggled, and methodically beat him senseless. That had been two weeks ago, and every attempt he’d made to find his lover had failed. The last time he’d been threatened with imprisonment himself.

He would do Kavi no good behind iron bars, he reminded himself again.

Natan opened his eyes to find the captive staring at him from where he’d slumped against the tree. Natan went over and helped him to a sitting position.

“What’s your name?” he asked with ice in his voice. The man continued to stare at him, insolent. Natan looked him over carefully. “Let me guess. You’re dressed as a Nagal soldier, though you’re obviously not one. Maybe a deserter? Maybe a Barkuit spy?” He watched the soldier’s face as he named the rival country, then leaned closer to whisper, “What of Kavi?”

“That trash?” the man asked in surprise, and yelped when Natan lunged at him, knife slipping into his hand. “Say that again and I’ll slit your throat. Now, what

is your name?”

“Captain Syros Reed.”

Natan sat back on his heels, fury hot in his chest.

“Speak.”

“I could tell you where they mean to bury him,” Syros drawled, holding Natan’s gaze, and smiled slightly at his sharply indrawn breath. “He was alive the last time I saw him, but I heard they mean to bury him soon. If you hurry, he may still be breathing. I don’t know.”

“And you didn’t help him?” With a sudden enraged cry Natan drove his knife into the sapling inches from Syros’s face. “He’d better be alive, for your sake.”

He left his water skin for Syros, should the man succeed in freeing himself, then gave the soldier no more thought as he snatched up his pack and settled into the long run ahead, determined to be at the Lake of Glass on time.

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Author Bio



Dianne grew up in one of the older homes in the middle of Los Angeles, a place of hardwood floors and secret closets and back staircases. A house where ghosts lurk in the basement and the faces in the paintings watch you walk up the front stairs. Rooms where you keep the closet doors closed tight at night. It’s where her love of the mysterious and wonderful came from. Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind.

She now lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. Dianne says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee in her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Author Website: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/

Author Facebook (Personal): http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/diannehartsock

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/Dianne-Hartsock-Author-107985445959828/

Author Twitter: http://twitter.com/diannehartsock

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/diannehartsock/

Author Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/4707011-dianne-hartsock

Author QueeRomance Ink: https://www.queeromanceink.com/mbm-book-author/dianne-hartsock/

Author Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Dianne-Hartsock/e/B005106SYQ/

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Eran's Release by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and IndiGo Marketing celebrate the release of Eran's Release from Less Than Three Press! Learn more about the contemporary romance and enter in the $10 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Title: Eran's Release

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: Less Than Three Press

Release Date: July 3, 2019

Heat Level: 4 - Lots of Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 44,000 words

Genre: Romance, erotic, contemporary, gay

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Synopsis

It's cliché to fall for the cute barista at the coffee shop, but Paul can't help it. Eran's shy smile and heated gaze are driving him wild. Convincing Eran to go out with him, however, is a lot harder than expected.



Eran's been burned before—by family and more, enough to make him jump at shadows and avoid intimacy. But Paul is determined, and with the help of counselors, classes, and an unexpected modeling gig, Eran might just find that taking a risk on what scares him the most, has a worthy payoff.

Excerpt

It's cliché to fall for the cute barista at the coffee shop, but Paul can't help it. Eran's shy smile and heated gaze are driving him wild. Convincing Eran to go out with him, however, is a lot harder than expected.

Eran's been burned before—by family and more, enough to make him jump at shadows and avoid intimacy. But Paul is determined, and with the help of counselors, classes, and an unexpected modeling gig, Eran might just find that taking a risk on what scares him the most, has a worthy payoff.

Excerpt



Paul rested his chin on his hand and watched the snow come down harder outside the window, already sticking to the sidewalks. The roads would be next. It was beginning to look bad for anyone flying into Denver for the holidays.

"Any news?" he asked the man opposite him.

Shelton flicked him a glance then looked back at the text message on his phone. "The airport's still open, but they're worried about ice, and Nevil's plane doesn't land for another hour. It might end up being diverted. Damn this snow."

"It's a week before Christmas. They wouldn't dare close the airport."

"From your lips to God’s ear."

"Anything else, sir?"

Paul looked up into pale blue eyes, clear and earnest as they met his. Men shouldn't be allowed to have such pretty eyes. Especially not when they were surrounded by soft layers of dark hair cut in a bob at the chin, giving the man an almost feminine beauty.

"Can I have another espresso?" he asked, cursing himself for not requesting Eran's phone number instead. Eran was the main reason Paul had started favoring this coffee shop. He'd chatted the young man up, soon realizing he was both witty and friendly, though he danced around any personal questions. That had only intrigued Paul further. What was his story?

They both reached for his empty cup, and Eran pulled his hand back as if stung. Color flushed his cheeks and he murmured an apology as he grabbed the mug and hastened across the room, retreating behind the counter.

Shelton dragged his attention from the snow piling up outside to give him a questioning look. "Why don't you ask him out?"

"What?"

"Don't play innocent! You've been inviting me here for the last two weeks, then ignore me whenever you catch a glimpse of the lovely Eran."

"Sorry, dear. Feeling neglected?"

Shelton snorted. "Save your lines for Eran. But Nevil's coming for the holidays, and I won't be able to play chaperone anymore."

Paul widened his eyes with a sudden thought. "I bet he thinks we're dating. Shit."

Shelton shook his head. "He does not."

A teasing smile curled Paul's lips. "Shelton, you're delicious. If I hadn't sworn off older men I'd definitely be attracted to you. Eran must be playing it cool because he thinks I'm with you."

"I'm not sure that's it." Something in Shelton's tone made Paul give him a closer look. Shelton shook his head. "I think he's interested in you, but something's holding him back from acting on it."

"Maybe he's just shy," Paul suggested.

"It seems more than that to me. Look at him. He's beautiful and sweet. He should be walking around this coffee shop as if he owned the place. Or posing on some magazine cover. Instead, he's waiting tables. He seems fragile. Something's not right…"

Paul missed his next words as Eran approached with his coffee. He gracefully skirted the crowded tables, slim in dark jeans and tee-shirt and the green apron tied around his hips. Paul felt mesmerized as he took the drink from Eran's hands and murmured his thanks. Eran lingered to wipe the edge of their table with a rag, not quite meeting Paul's gaze. Shelton nudged Paul's shin with the toe of his shoe, rousing him.

"Oh, right. Eran, this is my co-worker, Shelton. We work in the loan department at the same bank." Paul motioned in Shelton's direction, sure he was babbling. "I'm keeping him company while his lover's out of town." He rushed on as Shelton snorted and Eran raised a brow. "I mean, we're just friends. If you were wondering," he added lamely.

A smile touched Eran's lips and he leaned over and tucked a strand of Paul's hair behind an ear. "In that case, the shop does close in five minutes, if you want to meet me out front."

Paul gaped at him, and Eran's smile widened, showing even white teeth. "See you soon."

Paul turned his baffled gaze on Shelton as Eran left them. "Did you hear him? Was I dreaming?"

"Merry Christmas. Now let’s go. You don't want to keep him waiting." He waved off Paul’s protest. "I can catch a cab. It’s no problem."

"Thanks." Paul slid money for their drinks and a generous tip under his untouched coffee, then grabbed up his coat. Happy, he surprised Shelton with a kiss on the cheek before they went to the door. Maybe Shelton was right and Eran had a past. But that was what first dates were for, right? To learn about each other? Whatever it was, Paul was sure it wasn't anything he couldn't handle.

Purchase

Less Than Three Press | Amazon

Meet the Author

 

Dianne is the author of m/m romance, paranormal suspense, fantasy adventure, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.
Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads | eMail | Instagram | Amazon

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