Tuesday, December 22, 2015

INTERVIEW: Nicolas by Dianne Hartsock plus #Giveaway! #Mythology


Hello Dianne and welcome to The Hat Party! <3 Thank you so much for subjecting yourself to the RANDOMNESS that is a Raine O'Tierney interview! Please don your best hat, and let's get started!



What one food item do you consider to be your arch nemesis?

That would be peanut butter. I’m still heart broken. For years we carried on a torrid affair with trysts in the afternoon, late night hookups. I’d wake each morning hungry for a taste of that salty delight. And then one day it turned on me, sending me to the hospital in tears and anaphylactic shock. No explanation given, not even a note of farewell. Only the cold reality that it was over between us. I still haven’t found it in me to forgive it.

On a scale 1 (super chill) to 10 (falling apart at the seams) how cool are you under the pressure of blurb writing?!

*preens* I consider myself a 7 (okay, a four).  But the blurbs have never been a huge problem for me. It’s always been the dreaded synopsis! I’d rather dust my mom’s knick-knack shelves, item by miniscule item, then write one of those.

If you could go back to any point in your personal history and give yourself a message, when would you go and what would you say?

I’d go back to a dark night, late autumn, when I was fifteen years old, and say, “Hang on, honey. Smile. It gets better.”

A genre-specific virus has attacked you, rendering you INCAPABLE of writing your chosen genre. What do you do now?!

Crap! Where’s the fun in this? I guess I’d curl up and cry. Then I’d pick myself up, sit down at the keyboard, and write some lesbian romance. Yeah… I could have a lot of fun with that.

Describe yourself using a literary quote.

“I think of my life as a kind of music, not always good music but still having form and melody.”—East of Eden

What is your 3-word zombie survival plan?

Run. Like. Hell.

You have 200 words—Make. Me. Swoon. (PLEASE!)

This is from the first time Nico and Jamie come together:

"Angelo mio,” he murmured, nuzzling his neck. His hands trailed down Jamie’s back and undid the ribbon tying his long braid. Silken tendrils curled around Nico’s fingers and he bunched them in his hands, tilting Jamie’s face upwards. Fear and arousal warred in the blue eyes. He planted kisses along his jawline, nibbled at his perfect lips. “You’re more lovely than I could have imagined, my angel,” he said and pressed their lips together.

He tugged the red hair. “Open for me, Jamie,” he said and swallowed the young man’s gasp as Nico slid his tongue between his parting lips. Sugar and warmth jolted his heart, sending his pulse hammering. He moved his head and deepened the kiss, needing more of Jamie’s sweet taste. Shifting, he slid his cock alongside Jamie’s, freeing a hand to rub and tease Jamie’s nipples. The young man’s panting turned to guttural moans and Nico’s heart raced with joy. So responsive! He needed to take Jamie to bed—now. Show him the pleasures his body was made for, bring him to the shattering release he’d so long been denied.

He broke off their kiss, leaning their foreheads together while they both caught their breath. Clasping Jamie’s hand, he nudged him backwards. “Take me to your bed, little angel,” he urged, rejoicing when Jamie moaned with need and wordlessly led him from the room.

What makes you inexplicably happy?

Both my kids are grown and moved out of the house. I love it when they’re both here at the same time, even if we’re just sitting at the kitchen table sharing stories.

Worst mistake you’ve made in your career and what you’ve learned from it?

Thankfully I haven’t made any big mistakes. Worst mistake is reading bad reviews and letting them discourage me. I have to believe in myself and my writing and not worry what others might think about it.

And finally, for THE most important question of all: what kinds of dachshunds are the BEST kinds of dachshunds?

I don’t know much about dogs in general, but I do think the longhaired dachshund are the cutest!


~ ~ ~

Author Name: Dianne Hartsock
Book Name: Nicolas
Release Date: December 18, 2015
Pages or Words: 200 pages
Categories: Contemporary, Fantasy, Gay Fiction, Mythology, Novel, M/M Romance
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Cover Artist: AngstyG


Betrayed by a lover, Jamie rents an isolated cabin on Lake Huron, wanting only to be left alone. Instead, he is pulled from his solitary existence as an artist and tumbles headlong into the legend of Saint Nicolas.

As a young man, Nicolas accidentally killed a man intent on murdering three children, only to have the man's malicious spirit rise up against him. Fleeing through the centuries from the Krampus, the evil troll-like creature that dogs his steps, Nico finds refuge with the young artist who takes him into his home and bed. But Jamie has questions. Who is Nicolas, and why does the Krampus want to destroy him?

When the Krampus begins to torment and torture anyone Nico comes in contact with to punish him, Jamie’s life is put in danger. And Jamie isn’t sure whether he can help Nico defeat his nemesis or if he’s merely a pawn in the Krampus’s game.


Excerpt:
Jamie startled awake. “What?”
He had trouble breathing, the crushing weight on his chest seeming to have followed him up from his dreams. But that couldn’t be right. He’d rented the cabin for its isolation. No one should be there. Did he still dream?
A warm breath brushed against his cheek, sending a shiver of dread and strange anticipation through him. “Easy, baby,” a silky voice whispered in the darkness. Sharp teeth nipped his earlobe and pleasure and pain sparked along his nerves. His eyes adjusted to the moonlight filtering through the sheer curtains, and he stared in amazement at the man gazing at him with wild green eyes, long pale hair, high cheekbones and a slender neck he craved to run his tongue along.
The stranger laid his weight on him, driving the air from his lungs and making Jamie struggle for every breath. Shifting position, the man sealed his full lips over Jamie’s, drawing a long groan from Jamie when an impossibly large cock slid against his. In sudden panic he reached to shove his unknown visitor away and touched hot skin and lean muscles. Of their own volition his hands roamed lower, following the curve of the stranger’s back to the rounded swell of his ass. He drew a quick breath and the man laughed into his mouth, pushed his tongue deep, thrusting inside to match the movement of his hips as he ground against Jamie’s aching dick.
Heat pooled in Jamie’s stomach. God, what was happening? The thing in his bed looked like a man, but his every instinct shouted otherwise. His skin was warm when it should have been cold from being outside. And how had he gotten in? All the windows and doors were locked tight against the winter storm. It was as if he’d just materialized in Jamie’s bed. “Who—”
He cried out when a hand pushed between them and grabbed their cocks, stroking them together until he lost the ability to think. So close! He grabbed onto the man’s firm ass and yanked him tighter against him, rising up to shove into his strong grip.
The triumphant hiss in his ear shot ice through his veins. “So naughty.”
“No!” Jamie struggled to sit up, scrambling back against the headboard. He blinked, finding himself alone in the room, only his ragged breaths disturbing the silence of the cabin. A forgotten anxiety knotted his stomach. Naughty. He hated that word, tossed about by the boys he once knew in school. The ones he’d suck off behind the gym, desperate for a gentle hand in his hair, balm against his loneliness. He’d been terrified his parents would find out he was different, that he liked girl things and found boys much more exciting than he should. They would know he was gay and there would be hell to pay for their freak of a son.
He scrubbed a hand over his face. God, that had been ages ago. The last shreds of the dream dissipated, and he reached for the bedside light, fumbling in the darkness for the switch. Low light stung his eyes and he blinked at the empty bedroom, unable to believe the attack hadn’t been real.
He flung off the heavy quilts and slid to his feet, clinging to the post at the foot of the bed as a wave of dizziness struck him. Laughter from the other room jolted him. Heart pounding, he bolted for the door and it crashed into the wall as he flung it open. The reddish glow from the banked fire on the hearth lit the main room of the cabin, though the kitchen area remained in shadows.
Jamie’s gaze swept the rooms, focusing on the dark corners.  No one jumped out at him. Nobody sat on the couch. His coffee cup remained undisturbed where he’d left it on the hearth. Of course. The cabin was isolated, miles from the nearest neighbor. Who would bother to come way out there, especially with the threat of another snowstorm on the way?
He ran a trembling hand through his hair, pushing the sweat-drenched bangs from his forehead. Christ, the dream had seemed so real. The cold of the great room finally registered, creeping up from the hardwood flooring. Shaking, he crossed to the fireplace and stirred up the coals, adding another log.
With a sigh, he sank into the cushions of the worn couch and pulled the woolen afghan around his bare shoulders. The log caught and the fire crackled, sparks dancing up the flue. Recalling his dream and the hard body against his, he shrugged when his cock perked up.
“It’s been a while,” he acknowledged, watching the flames lick at the oak log. He’d signed a year’s lease on the cabin, right after catching his boyfriend in the stairwell of their apartment building, making out with their neighbor. It hadn’t been the first time, either, though again Patrick had his apologies ready. That had been over six months ago, and since the cabin stood miles over rough terrain from the nearest town, he’d rarely seen another human being in all that time.
“Just the way I like it,” he told the indifferent fire burning its way through the wood. But the stranger’s lips in his dream had been soft, his thrusting tongue sweet in Jamie’s mouth. He hadn’t liked the violent aspect of the dream, but if that had been a lover in his bed? His dick pressed against his thigh, and Jamie reached under the heavy blanket, moaning when he took its heavy weight in his hand. Drawing lazy circles on his balls, he let the pleasure build slowly, lifting his cock while in his mind the stranger licked the glistening head, his pale gold hair a curtain of silk against Jamie’s sensitive skin. He moaned as the man slid his tongue down the thick vein on the underside of his cock.
His mind flitted over the question of whether the guy would fuck him or want it the other way around. Didn’t matter to him. He liked it both ways. Rolling to his back, Jamie continued to stroke himself while he tugged his tight balls, then pressed a finger against his hole. He remembered the lube in the nightstand drawer by the bed, but he wasn’t about to stop, and hissed when he pushed the finger inside. The man’s cock had been huge in his dream. What would it feel like as it stretched him open? Would it be enough to fill all the empty spaces inside him?
It was a moment before the tolling of a bell outside the cabin registered. What the fuck? Jamie sat up, trying to hear past the pounding of his pulse in his ears. His cock throbbed and he groaned in frustration, knowing he couldn’t chase his pleasure until he found out what was going on at the dock. The only one to boat in was the man who dropped off his monthly supplies, and he’d been and gone two days ago. Who else would be using the dock? Jamie had been isolated for months without anything disturbing his peace. But this night he’d had a wildly erotic dream and now this. What made tonight so special?


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 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. 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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