Giveaway has Ended - Awaiting Winner Verification :D
Welcome to my Second Hosting for OWI 🌈
This is a new release by author Dianne Hartsock - You might know her from some of her other publications like: Nicolas or The Basement
In this book one of The Karthagans series, she has created a whole new world for you to discover!
Below you will find everything you need to help you decide that YES you do need this paranormal, fantasy publication in your reading library :D
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| Genre: LGBT Fantasy Fiction / Paranormal Published: February 10, 2020 Print Length: 288 Pages Series: The Karthagans |
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
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.
Hi! I’m Dianne, author of Belega. So glad you could make it by. I’m often asked, what’s the best advice an editor ever gave me? That’s hard to say, since my editors have all been top notch. Some favorites are: Never read reviews. Find your own unique voice. Write what you love. But this especially has always stuck with me. When editing, I’ve been told, always check this one thing. Is this scene necessary? Does this scene, or even this character, ‘get the ring to Mordor’? *Yes, the geek in me loves this!
Think about it. Whatever random things Frodo and his companions did—Tom Bombadil. The trip to see Beorn—still, these scenes were necessary to show the influence of the ring to the creatures of Middle Earth. Every scene you write, every character’s actions, need to move the story forward toward its goal.
There have been times when I absolutely adore a secondary character, and will follow them off on totally random adventures, straying so far off the path it gets ridiculous. But then I have to stop and ask myself, is this getting the ring where it needs to be? Is it helping our hero fulfill his quest and reach the ending of the story? If not, the scene has got to go. Oh, don’t delete it! Save it in another folder, where one day you may give this character his own story.
I had this happen to me in Belega, where Captain Syros became much more front and center than he really belonged. He went on several such adventures, and though fascinating to me, really didn’t move the story along. He’s a character I might need to explore more thoroughly one day. I’d like to share one such scene with you, if you don’t mind. It’s a tender moment between him and Sharana. Yes, it gives Syros more page time, but contributes nothing to the story, except to gratify my own curiosity. Enjoy!
Sharana watched the man standing stiffly by the fountain in the rose garden. He was as yet unaware of her and she trembled in the moonlight, gathering her courage. He must have heard her approaching and turned, and for an instant she saw a desperate loneliness etched on his features. The white mask fell into place abruptly.
“My lady,” he greeted her with his eloquent bow. “You shouldn’t be out so late. The air is growing chill.”
She made no comment, but went boldly up to him and stood so close she could feel his quick breath stir her hair. She touched his face and suddenly she was crushed in his arms and he was taking kisses she gladly gave him. He broke off and buried his face in her hair, murmuring her name over and over.
“Can you ever forgive me, Syros?” she asked brokenly and felt him tremble. “Darling, I was such a fool.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “And when I saw you tonight, and felt I had lost you forever…” his voice broke. “Never leave me,” he begged in a hoarse whisper. She lifted her lips to his in answer.
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.
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One (1) Prize: $20 Amazon gift card
Thank you so much for hosting me!
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