Thursday, December 03, 2015

Thursday Thoughts with Dianne Hartsock

Hello! Thanks for dropping in. First off, I’d like to say a big thank you to Cup O’ Porn for having me as a guest on their wonderful site. Isn’t it delicious here! Believe me, the pictures have sparked some very nice dreams.


I don’t know about you, but I’ve been plagued by recurring dreams my whole life, good and bad, funny to downright terrifying. With Christmas fast approaching, I’m reminded of one of my very favorite dreams. It’s Christmas morning. I’m young, maybe six or seven, standing at the closed doors to the living room. In the house I grew up in, the living room had those doors that slide open into the walls on either side of the doorway. My Dad always closed them Christmas Eve so none of us would try to spy on Santa.

It is the same in this dream, only instead of having the family gathered with me, I wait alone, trembling with anticipation. What has Santa brought me? As if on cue, the doors magically open and I walk into a room filled with brightly colored presents and a huge tree glittering with lights and ornaments. Best of all, all the presents are for me, and my heart swells with joy and excitement. Best dream ever! Selfish? Perhaps, but remember, I’m only a little kid here.

But with the good comes the bad. The other dream I have on regular intervals is one about a not so nice witch. I’m older in this dream, maybe ten, standing on the deck of our cabin in the Green Horn Mountains. Peering through the thick pine forest, I can just make out the dirt road far below following the creek bed to the witch’s house.

For some reason I’m compelled to scramble through the woods, climb on my brother’s rickety dirt bike, and peddle with all my might down the road. I have to make it past his house. It’s the only way my family and I can be safe. Don’t ask me why this is so. It makes sense in the dream. I duck my head, peddle hard, and just about reach freedom, when the witch steps out his front door. I wake up panting, scared to death, with the feeling of impending doom hanging over me. No, this is not my favorite dream.

Which brings me not so subtly to my story NICOLAS, coming out December 18th from Dreamspinner Press. I’ve only recently heard the legend of the Krampus, the goblin-like creature who follows St. Nicolas around, punishing the bad children while Nicolas rewards the good.  Delighted shivers! I decided to take all the glitter and sparkle and joy from my Christmas dream and the fear and creeping horror from my witch nightmare, and weave them together. St. Nicolas flees through the centuries, stalked by his dark counterpart, and maybe, in my story, finds the peace he can bring to others but never to himself.

And of course, since I love romance, sweet Jamie is there to support him but also to lead our good Nicolas into being deliciously naughty.

Happy Holidays! Please comment below with your favorite holiday tradition for a chance to win a $5 Amazon Gift card.



NICOLAS


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.” 




Dianne Hartsock is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, and anything else that comes to mind. Oh, and a floral designer, which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.








12 comments:

  1. Oh this look like a creepy read and I know what it's like to have such vivid dreams and nightmares :) When I was little my favorite tradition was that my grandparents came to pick me up from my last day at school, as they came from out of town and several hundred miles away and their first task was to come to collect me. Now my favorite tradition is for my mother to travel up to see me and meet me on my last day at work and we go to lunch and wonder around all the festive treats, eating hot chestnuts and picking up last minute gifts. I then take her home and help her get ready for the descending hordes.

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    1. What a wonderful tradition! Have a fantastic holiday.

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    2. Sula, you're my winner, chosen by Random.org. Yay! Please contact me to receive your gift card. :)

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    3. Yay will do, awesome, thank you so much <3

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  2. Mom and us kids would make candy and cookies the week before and help her wrap them for gifts for her friends and dads coworkers. we would get rewarded with a pieces of each candy too. we always got a stocking with a coloring book colors, an orange, apple and this big peppermint stick Mom would sit us at the table with our coloring books have us suck the peppermint till hollow and roll the orange to make it juice while she made pancakes then she cut a slit in the orange inserted the peppermint stick and we got to drink that with our pancakes. I miss mom I am halfway through Nicolas and loving it.

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    1. What a fantastic memory to have of your Mom. I always had such a fun Christmas with my family. Glad you're liking my NIcolas!

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  3. OMG! I am dying to read this!!!!

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  4. sounds like an interesting spin on St Nick :)

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    1. I enjoyed the research and then putting my own twist on things. :)

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  5. This sounds like a very interesting book and I can't wait to read it.

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    1. Thanks Sherry! Hope you enjoy my men. :)

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