Showing posts with label swords and sorcery. Show all posts
Showing posts with label swords and sorcery. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 17, 2025

Sword of Hadrian #rabtbooktours

 


Fantasy, Romantic Fantasy

Date Published: March 17, 2025



In a kingdom where magic is forbidden, Sashki lived an ordinary life-until the day she begins having visions of a destiny she never imagined was her own. The visions reveal a shocking truth: she possesses a rare, powerful magic, and her twin brother, whom she never knew existed, wields a dark and dangerous magic of his own. As the kingdom of Carserae teeters on the brink of destruction, Sashki is faced with an agonizing choice-use her magic to save the kingdom, even if it means destroying her brother.

But magic comes with its own dangers. To protect herself and her newfound powers, Sashki must keep everything secret, including her growing feelings for the prince of Carserae. Though magic is banned in Carserae, Sashki persuades the prince to assist her in fulfilling her destiny, all while keeping her abilities a closely guarded secret. As they embark on a journey to confront the kingdom's fate, Sashki finds herself torn between her heart and her responsibility.

In a world where love and duty collide, Sashki must confront the truth of her identity, her powerful connection to the prince, and the heartbreaking sacrifice required to save her people. Will she destroy the brother she never knew, or can she find a way to save both him and the kingdom without losing herself in the process?

Sword of Hadrian is a captivating fantasy romance novel that explores the complexities of love, magic, and destiny, where every choice comes with a price.


About the Author

 

 Chloelia Salome initially wrote and published the first version of the Sword of Hadrian in high school, which is now revisited and reimagined in this newest release. Now the author of nine titles, Salome blends epic fantasy with emotional depth, creating a story that’s as moving as it is thrilling.

 

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Friday, June 13, 2025

New Vessel Book Blitz #rabtbooktours

 

Fantasy, Action/Adventure

Date Published: May 2, 2025



Eska’s life has been shaped by the constant threat of the wilds—and the even greater danger posed by the church.

In their secluded home beyond the city walls, Eska was taught the skills to survive in a world teeming with monstrous creatures, her childhood marked by rigorous training, resourceful hunting and unyielding discipline.

Beneath her exterior lies a dangerous secret: her mastery of Bloodcraft, a rare and forbidden magic that allows her to manipulate her own blood as a weapon.

The church views her power as heresy, branding those like her as abominations. Their relentless hunt for Bloodcraft users has forced Eska and Oblea to live a life of quiet exile, far from the safety of the towering walls that protect humanity.

But the wilds are unforgiving and no amount of isolation can keep Eska hidden forever. As whispers of her existence reach dangerous ears, Eska's carefully constructed world begins to unravel and her survival skills are put to the ultimate test.


About the Author

Tessedan Devalere writes fantasy fiction, exploring narratives rich with magic, romance, and heartfelt tragedy. Before turning to novel writing, Tessedan spent nine years as a software engineer, with much of that time dedicated to indie game development.

 

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Tuesday, June 10, 2025

The Spy New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  The Spy

Series: Princes of Toval, Book Three

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 06/10/2025

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 57800

Genre: Historical fantasy, adventure, baking, magic, missing person, MM Romance, politics, royalty, spies

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Description

After spending two years away at culinary school, learning the arts of baking and magic, all Karl wants to do after graduation is return home to the kitchen where he grew up. However, when Karl's adoptive uncle asks him to do a little favor for him along his journey, of course Karl says yes. He needs to find a missing person, one who may have been captured somewhere in Yaroi, a neighboring country to Karl’s home in Toval.

Finding the missing person is hard enough. Add in each of their secretive pasts, and the implications and dangers inherent with being a Prince of Toval, and a simple rescue turns into a deadly adventure. Especially once Karl learns just why Ama was arrested in the first place. Karl’s chances of returning home to use his newly honed baking skills dwindle as escaping the situation with their heads still attached is proving to be almost impossible.

Excerpt

The Spy
Mell Eight © 2025
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
Ama knew how he had gotten into this situation. The Yarokai had excellent noses, so sniffing him out, tracking him down, and capturing him had been far easier than in most of the places Ama went to sneak around. Even his magic hadn’t been enough to prevent his capture, warning him too late that he should have taken his chances heading for the border rather than holing up and trying to hide.

What Ama didn’t know was how he was going to get out of this with his head still attached to the rest of his body. The Yarokai were, in general, a suspicious bunch, insular, and parochial. Any strangers in the cities within the country of Yaroi received extra scrutiny. Tracking them all had to be difficult, since the majority of Yaroi’s cities were coastal trade cities along the Eiroi Strait with merchants, sailors, and travelers from other countries coming and going constantly. They were the main entry port to the rest of the continent for land-based travel too, so Yaroi always had caravans of foreigners crossing through.

Ama had planned to blend in. He arrived at Yaroi’s capital city of Yari with a merchant caravan, acting as a guard to deter thieves, and then spent plenty of time each day visibly working to negotiate a contract to leave Yaroi with a different caravan. Only in the quiet hours around noon, when any good Yarokian was meditating and business was never conducted, or in the dark of night, had Ama tried sneaking around.

He had never failed so miserably.

Sensory deprivation was the worst sort of punishment for a Yarokai, so Ama’s cell didn’t have any windows to allow light or air in. The door was thick wood with only a small flap at the bottom to push meals through. While depriving sight, sound, and smell might be particularly terrible for the Yarokai, it wasn’t exactly a walk in the park for Ama either, especially since he was basically convicted before they could put him on stage for a sham trial.

At least Ama would go to his execution knowing his last mission had been successful. Queen Trina would be relieved to know that much. Aunt Millie would be sad to know he was gone, although given her abilities, she probably already knew he was in trouble. She was too far away to help, though, so Ama wasn’t counting on that. Aunt Millie knew better too. In her four years since taking the throne in Namin, she had become a good and trustworthy ruler, and Namin was beginning to return to prosperity. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that, including engaging with Yaroi on his behalf, particularly after what he had just done. Even if Yaroi didn’t use military assets to attack Namin, they controlled the trade from the Eiroi Strait. If they leveled extra tariffs on Namese goods or simply refused to allow Namese goods to be traded through Yaroi ports, Namin’s economy would backslide. No, Ama was definitely on his own there.

At least Ama had visited home recently, to see all his aunts, uncles, and cousins, and had visited Namin too. Seeing Aunt Millie was always fun. She had been too busy at the time to really talk though. The last time Ama had actually sat down with her alone for more than a hurried lunch, before she went on to her next meeting and Ama returned to work, had been four years ago, right after her coronation. Ama had hoped her words at the time meant he had a happy future in front of him, but now he knew better. She had meant he shouldn’t worry about his future because he would be executed before he had a chance to actually achieve his dreams.

“If you want my advice, I think you should continue adventuring on Prince Braxton’s behalf. Have some fun for a few more years, and maybe someday you’ll find whatever it is you’re actually searching for.”

Even Toval, who had assigned him this delicate mission, wouldn’t be able to save him. They couldn’t admit they had sent him to Yaroi, that they were involved at all, nor that they knew Ama even existed—all for the same reasons Namin wouldn’t dare help Ama. No, Ama had to take complete responsibility for this fiasco. That was the only way to save Toval and Namin, as well as to ensure the last parts of this mission were successful.

Ama shifted on the hard stone bench, the only furniture in his cell, and leaned against the rock wall, attempting to get as comfortable as possible. He tried to focus on happier memories as he waited to die.

The first time he had seen Prince Braxton, looking so strong and powerful on a horse as he rode through Ama’s home village. Ama making the decision to help Prince Braxton any way he could and going about gathering information so he could convince Braxton to hire him. The second time he had seen Braxton, he had snuck into Braxton’s camp and startled him. Once Braxton calmed down, Ama had managed to convince Braxton Ama was only there to share information. That memory made him smile.

Another of his favorite memories was more recent. Namin’s aggressions against Toval had grown too much, so Toval had decided to intervene by sending troops to support a coup. Braxton had asked if Ama might be able to find someone suitable to sit on the Namin throne after they removed the king of the time, which meant finding someone capable of wielding Namin’s royal magic. Ama had traveled only a few hours before finding Aunt Millie, who had chosen to come to him, to support Ama in Ama’s quest to help Braxton in any way the Tovalians needed. Now Aunt Millie was Queen Carmillian of Namin.

Ama couldn’t say how much time passed as he sat in the tiny prison cell, inwardly focused on his memories —a couple days, at least, but he couldn’t be sure. Food came, but not at regular intervals, so Ama couldn’t use that to gauge time. After what felt like a very, very long time, he finally heard the scrape as the lock was turned. The door opened with a slow groan, the light beyond almost blinding Ama. He blinked, trying to clear the spots from his vision, and a grinning guard eventually came into view. A pair of manacles in his hands were held out in Ama’s direction.

“Your punishment has been decided,” the guard stated as Ama stood and walked over to the door, arms outheld for the guard to place the manacles around Ama’s wrists. He didn’t say anything more, instead, shoving Ama forward so he stood in the middle of a circle of guards. They walked for a while, the floor sloping slowly upward, only the torches set into the walls at intervals supplying any light. The group paused when they reached a door, then waited for the guard in front to unlock it and pull the door open. He stepped aside and waved for Ama to go through first.

The guards and the excited crowd surrounding the perimeter of the stone-flagged amphitheater just outside the door let Ama get a good look at his punishment for a few long moments. Eager anticipation emanated from the crowd as they let him take it all in. Ama swallowed hard, but his resolve was firm. He would complete his mission no matter what they did to him.

“Anytime you want to tell us everything, this will stop,” the guard growled in Ama’s ear.

“There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t do anything wrong,” Ama replied. He tried to sound unconcerned, but his throat was dry and stomach clenched. He had hoped for a quick hanging or beheading, not a slow death like this, but either way, he would endure–for the sake of everyone he had to protect.

He had to.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! 

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Tuesday, January 14, 2025

The Prince New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  The Prince

Series: Princes of Toval, Book Two

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 01/14/2025

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 45800

Genre: Fantasy, MM Romance, nonexplicit, royalty, soldiers, politics, magic, magic-user, spies, coup

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Description

Captured as a prisoner of war, Prince Clament expects rough treatment. However, the extent of torment he endures is beyond even his expectations. When Prince Braxton frees him, Clament knows it's only a farce meant to coerce him into finally spilling all his country's secrets. Except, despite all his efforts—magical and common—Clament finds himself helplessly drawn to Braxton, wishing he could believe the tantalizing promises Braxton makes. Unfortunately, the war continues to be fought. When the ongoing battle spills into Clament's healing ward, resisting Braxton takes a backseat to simple survival. And yet, Clament knows he must make a terrible decision: believe in Braxton and betray his country, or betray Braxton and possibly get him killed. That is, assuming Clament is allowed to live long enough first.

Excerpt

The Prince 
Mell Eight 
© 2025 All Rights Reserved 
 Prologue 

Prince Clament of the country of Namin walked through the campsite on the shores of Lake Estaral only half listening to the mercenary captain bitching in his ear about how long they had been left to wait with dwindling supplies. He tried to keep the sneer twisting his lips in place, but all he really wanted was to roll his eyes and go back to his own campsite where he could get some sleep. He really, really didn’t want to be here. The whole plot was a harebrained idea doomed to failure, but no one back in Namin had wanted to hear Clament’s opinion. Instead, they had assigned him to lead these sorry excuses for mercenaries. 

The plan was simple: the mercenaries would descend from the Spikehorn Mountains into the lush northern farmland in the foothills less than a day’s ride from here, where they would pillage the local villages into oblivion. The country of Toval, within whose borders those villages were located, would be forced to respond to protect their people by sending a large military contingent to repel the mercenaries. The military would be focused on rescuing the people and on rebuilding whatever was left of the villages. While Toval was distracted by what was happening in their north, Namin planned to invade in the south, using their forces to establish a new border where Namin could claim the land in those even lusher foothills. 

 There was no damned way such a moronic plan would work. A glance around at the maybe two hundred mercenaries in the camp told Clament exactly how poorly the plan was going to go. Not a single mercenary had a properly maintained set of armor or weapons. Also, none of them would be particularly pleased with the idea of having to work together and split the spoils. Assuming the mercenaries even agreed to participate—rather than just cutting their losses and heading out to find a better job—Clament knew what would actually happen. Should this ragtag group descend into Toval’s northern farmland, the result was very likely going to be the exact opposite of Namin’s grand, hairbrained plan: the mercenaries would attack and pillage the villages and Toval would respond. 

If Namin was lucky, Toval might send one full contingent of forces in response. A full contingent was probably overkill to defeat the mercenaries, if Clament was being honest. The rest of Toval’s large and extremely well-trained army would remain in full readiness, completely able to respond to an incursion in the south. Clament would probably be killed by Toval’s forces in the battle, which, in hindsight, might explain why he was sent to lead the mercenary part of the plan. A convenient way of getting rid of him—having Toval remove his head. Clament would go from the hated bastard prince to a martyr killed by the great enemy of Toval, a dead figurehead used to unify the people of Namin under the king’s call to arms. He was much more useful to Namin dead than alive, for this part of their grand plan, at least. 

 Two soldiers held open the flaps of the command tent as Clament ducked the low awning and stepped inside. The complaining mercenary captain followed, his mouth still running with yet more complaints. 

One by one the rest of the captains entered, each of them scowling and trying to look more intimidating than the others. Clament tried to out sneer them, in hopes that acting haughty would convince them to obey his orders. 

Last of all came the captain wearing the red patch on his piecemeal leather armor, denoting he was in charge of the Blood Lions. He ducked into the tent and looked up, immediately catching Clament’s eyes. Prince Fenwick of Toval, Commander of His Majesty’s Royal Forces. Clament recognized him immediately. And then all hell broke loose. * 

 Clament hadn’t bothered counting the days since Toval had captured him; since Fenwick’s pet chef had interfered and ruined the doomed-to-failure plot before it could even be implemented. Clament’s hands were tied to the pommel of his horse’s saddle, and his legs tied to the stirrups. One of the soldiers guarding him held the reins. Clament couldn’t go anywhere. He couldn’t even lift his hands to wipe away the deluge of rain dripping down his face. 

 They finally reached a fork in the road. The majority of the royal forces went left, while Clament and his cadre of guards took the righthand path. Not too much later, they arrived at a gate set into a thick wall. The momentary reprieve from the rain as they went through the long tunnel under the wall was the only good thing he could remember happening in a very long time. Unfortunately, they emerged into a courtyard soon after and the rain resumed. 

 The guards cut him free and hauled him down from the saddle, then they frog-marched him across the courtyard, two guards, one on each side, gripping Clament’s arms. They walked for quite a few minutes, following the outside wall of what Clament wanted to assume was the palace of Etoval, the capital city of Toval and the royal seat, until they reached a nondescript door with a very heavy-looking lock.

 One of the guards banged on the door. Even over the dripping, pounding rain, the heavy thunk of a bar being removed, the rattle of a thick chain, and then the thud as the lock was turned was perfectly audible. Someone pushed the door open from the inside and his guards marched Clament into the building.

 Clament dripped onto the gray flagstones for a few long seconds, taking in the narrow room. A sturdy chair sat off to one side, and the room was barely big enough for it. A second door with an equally large lock was across from the chair, and the guard who had opened the first door pounded on it. 

 Another thunk, rattle, thud, and the second door swung open, revealing yet another guard and a long flight of stairs heading downward. A third door that must be the access route directly from within the palace was to the left, but Clament’s two guards took him down the stairs, which had two landings as it switched directions on the descent. At the bottom was a dimly lit hallway of more gray flagstone floors. Six barred doors dotted the walls, three on each side. 

The guards took him to the farthest door on the right, pushing him inside and slamming the door shut behind him. Clament was, thankfully, finally left alone. He reveled in the peace of it—of not being tied to another person when he wasn’t tied to a horse—and took stock of his surroundings. The place wasn’t cold, which was a small mercy since he left behind a puddle as he walked forward. A hard, wooden bedframe with a thin mattress and thinner blanket was set to the left, a hole in the floor in the back right corner was his latrine, and that was it. No window, no chairs, no obvious light fixtures. Nothing except the blanket and bed and pit. 

 Footsteps echoed down the hall. Clament turned to face the door, and a moment later, a new face appeared. Light brown hair and intense hazel eyes set in a face that would have been handsome if not for the stern scowl currently twisting his full lips—Prince Braxton of Toval, officially a captain in the palace guard, but Clament knew better. Braxton was the kingdom’s spymaster and chief of all that happened in the dark and dank corners of the world. If he was here, it meant the king thought Clament had useful information, no doubt for their endless fight with Namin. 

 “You know who I am,” Braxton began, his voice powerful but not too deep. He didn’t mince words or try to pretend to be something he wasn’t, or to be after something else. Clament respected that, even if it was in regard to the person on the other side of a barred and locked door. “You know what I want. Are you ready to talk?” 

 Clament only glared in response. He might not be liked by his family, but he wasn’t a traitor. Braxton was going to have to wait a very long time to get any answers out of him. 

 “Very well,” Braxton continued, shrugging. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now, but I will return later. Perhaps you’ll be in a better mood for talking then.” 

 He left and blissful silence returned, but only momentarily. Enough time had passed for Braxton to have left the dungeon when Clament heard footsteps again. Two of the guards who had been with Braxton walked into view outside the bars, both of them grinning, their eyes shining with glee. 

 “You heard our dear prince,” one of the guards said, his tone singsong with happiness. He pulled out a key ring and unlocked the cell door, pushing it open and stepping inside before relocking the door behind him. “He wants you to talk. We’re here to convince you.” 

The smile grew and the guard clenched his fingers into a fist hard enough to make the knuckles crack. Clament closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. So much for Braxton’s veneer of civilization. Well, it wasn’t like Clament hadn’t been beaten before, and at least this guard didn’t know all his weak points like his so-called brother. Still, Clament braced himself for what was to come. The best defense was offense, so he reopened his eyes and glared, hoping this wouldn’t be too bad.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

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Saturday, August 31, 2024

The Chef New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  The Chef

Series: Princes of Toval, Book One

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/27/2024

Heat Level: 1 - No Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 62200

Genre: Fantasy, culinary arts, royalty, mercenaries, soldiers, politics, magic, road trip

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Description

Char is a level one chef, capable of imbuing magic into his cooking. Offered a job in a new city where he can further develop his skills and grow toward his goal of one day owning his own restaurant, Char undertakes a dangerous journey through the Spikehorn Mountain pass. However, deadly beasts, thieves, and dodgy recipe ingredients aren't the only challenges in the mountains. When the mercenary group he travels with is attacked and killed, Char wows their killers with his skills and chooses to join them instead of being left to travel on his own.

Figuring out how to cook over a campfire with only salted and dried ingredients is a unique challenge for Char, but the fighters promised to deliver Char safely to his new job once their own task in the mountains is complete. But the new fighters aren't everything they appear to be, especially Captain Fen, who makes Char think about something other than cooking for the first time in years. Surviving the mountain crossing was supposed to be tough, but surviving this new journey might prove impossible.

Excerpt

The Chef
Mell Eight © 2024
All Rights Reserved

The sounds of battle had been going on for at least ten minutes. Char ignored them. The harsh metal clanging of sword against sword, the screech as a sword slid against armor, and the groaning and gasping of fighters as they exerted themselves—and ultimately died. Char let all that mess flow around him.

Keeping the oatmeal from burning was much more important after all.

Char gave the deep pot a stir, gauging the softness of the oats. Satisfied with the consistency, he opened the pouch of dried fruit and tipped it over the pot, letting half the pouch fall into the oatmeal below. The heat and residual water would soften and partially rehydrate the fruit, making it a perfect addition to breakfast. Char also put in about a tablespoon of brown sugar—calibrated to be enough for a pot this large without forgetting the natural sweetness the fruit would also add.

He glanced below the pot at the cooking fire that was mostly embers and decided it didn’t need more wood. The oatmeal would be ready about the time the battle against whichever thieves had been airheaded enough to attack an armed mercenary company was over. After the mercenaries ate and tended their wounded, Char expected them to move out. He didn’t need to maintain the fire to make lunch, since lunch would likely be jerky eaten in the saddle. At least Char had a pouch of his own homemade chicken jerky, carefully spiced with sage and smoked with onion and garlic. He didn’t want to know what the rest of the band were actually eating when it didn’t come out of a pot or pan of something he prepared; Char suspected it would be something gross.

The oatmeal was starting to bubble and blurp, very close to being ready. Char gave it another stir and then stopped to actually pay attention to his surroundings.

Sounds of battle came from all directions, so whatever enemy the mercenaries were fighting had tried to flank them. Still, the number of bangs, clangs, and groans of pain hidden from him by the thick brush and rocky terrain surrounding the campsite were diminishing, so the battle was definitely nearly ended. Char stood, went over to the bags adjacent to where their pack donkey was picketed, and pulled out bowls and spoons. He returned to the fire and started laying out his supplies until he had two lines of bowls, each with a spoon resting inside. The last bowl and spoon he kept for himself.

He was just reaching for the pot to fill his bowl so he could eat before the onslaught of hungry postbattle mercenaries when something hard tapped him on the shoulder.

Char glanced back and froze in place, the tip of a bloodied sword brushing against his cheek.

“No blood near the food, please,” he said automatically.

But, as his eyes followed the length of the blade up to the owner, he wasn’t met with one of the mercenaries he had been feeding for the last week. The stranger was tall and his fair hair, where it poked out beneath his helmet, was darkened with sweat. A splash of someone else’s blood crossed his even features, and his hard hazel eyes glared down at Char.

“Er, hello?” Char forced out, unsure how to react.

“Captain, I think that’s the last of them,” someone else called from the edge of the clearing. “We can move out when you’re done with him.”

The stranger—the captain—only moved his eyes away as he replied, the sword not wavering against Char’s neck. “Check their supplies. I want any orders or paperwork indicating what they were doing out here, and we might as well take anything of use.” His gaze immediately returned to Char. “You’re a noncombatant?” he asked.

“Hired to cook and maintain camp for the mercenary company,” Char replied. “Do you want some oatmeal? It’s just about ready, and it sounds like the people I made it for are no longer around to eat it.”

“Are you bonded to a merc company or freelance?” the captain asked.

He was asking whether Char had any emotional investment linked to the mercenaries the captain and his people had just killed. Char didn’t. What he wanted was their armed escort through the mountain pass and, incidentally, their coin. A lone traveler wouldn’t survive the mountain lions, let alone the bandits looking for the easy pickings of travelers exhausted after the arduous climb. Adding a little spending money to help him get on his feet at his destination was an added benefit. Besides, aside from the mercenary captain, Char hadn’t learned their names or really spoken with any of them. They hadn’t been a friendly bunch, really more of a means to an end, so he wasn’t particularly upset they were gone.

“Freelance,” Char replied, trying to sound convincing. He would have shrugged, but that sword still hadn’t moved. “I wanted to travel east; they wanted someone to maintain their camp. Getting paid is a side bonus. I’m headed for Etoval. No idea where they were going. We only contracted through to Marketon.”

The captain continued to glare, his frown full of distrust.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

Website | Facebook | Twitter

Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! 


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Friday, August 9, 2024

The Red Twins #IndiGo

Title:  The Red Twins

Series: The Karthagana, Book Two

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 08/06/2024

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 110100

Genre: Fantasy, fantasy, magic, sorcerers, mage, twins, psychic powers, military, hurt-comfort, established couples

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Description

Seventeen years of relative peace have passed in Belega while the Karthagans thrive. But this hard-won respite is drawing to an abrupt end. The Red Twins have come of age. Aiden is chosen to lead his people, as is his right as the older twin. But Ethan disagrees. Driven by jealousy, not only of Aiden’s status and friendships but also of his new lover, Ethan attacks, seeking to destroy all Aiden holds dear. But Aiden’s powers are growing, and at the moment, are far stronger than Ethan’s. Thwarted, Ethan flees Karthag, leaving Aiden alone to care for their people.

Things aren’t going any better for Natan on Sennia. Old jealousies are revived, and the Vice-King imprisons all with the ability to bend nature to their will. So far, Natan’s successor, Niko, has escaped capture, but his wife has been taken, and lies dying alone in her cell. Enraged, driven mad by grief, Niko attacks the Vice-King and flees to Belega, there to lick his wounds and gather his strength to return, seeking vengeance.

The Karthagan power over nature is stirring to life once more, and Aiden finds his people besieged from all sides. Niko takes refuge on the Isle of Wind, power and death in his hands. Ethan is in Siagan, calling up the power of the lake. And another enemy emerges: the lords of Fredrik’s Hall, set to learn the Karthagan secrets. Natan joins Aiden, and together with the Belegan armies, they strive to overcome the madness threatening their very lives. Aiden holds the power, but only Natan with his pure heart can heal the wounds of the earth. And then, only if he has the strength to do so.

Excerpt

The Red Twins
Dianne Hartsock © 2024
All Rights Reserved

Natan stood at the prow of the swift schooner and leaned over the rail, excitement coursing through him, with the sea spray stinging his cheeks into glowing life, his chestnut hair streaming as a banner behind him. He wished once again Kavi was with him. Kavi would love this. The morning sun glinted on the clear water and a few tattered clouds gave depth to the blue vault overhead. Natan drew a deep breath and laughed aloud in the pure joy of life.

His pulse sped as they approached Belega’s white shores after having been at sea for over a week. The anchor dragged, slowing the schooner, and men rushed to lower the sails and make ready the small boats to take the passengers to the dock. As they neared the harbor, Natan climbed onto the railing, gripping the rigging as he leaned out over the water, straining to see. His heart gave a bounding lurch when he spotted Kavi on the sand, and he leaped into the air, diving effortlessly into the deep sea.

He swam to the beach with practiced strokes. Kavi waited, flushed and smiling, as Natan climbed from the water and strode purposefully to him. Natan’s wet clothing clung to his lean body, and Kavi’s color deepened when he drew close, stirring Natan’s blood. Even after seventeen years together, Kavi still stole his breath. Engulfing Kavi in his arms, Natan lovingly whispered his name. He found Kavi’s lips and kissed him mercilessly before he pulled away with a self-conscious laugh and touched Kavi’s bruised mouth. “Sorry.”

“I’m not.” Kavi ran his fingers through Natan’s dripping hair. Natan’s chest heaved, and Kavi made an appreciative sound as he pressed against him.

A polite cough separated them. The remaining passengers had been rowed ashore along with Commander Cecil, who watched them with a grin on his face. Kavi gave Cecil a friendly nod, then turned to the young man at Cecil’s side and pulled him into an embrace. “I’m glad you came, Ellis. How was the voyage from Sennia?”

“Too long. It’s good to be on dry land again.”

“He never did gain his sea legs,” Natan divulged with a teasing smile.

“Ha!” Kavi kept Ellis at his side. “I’ll tell you a secret. No one enjoys the ocean like our dear Mage here.”

Natan’s face heated. “Probably true, Kavi.”

Ellis chuckled, warming Natan’s heart. Until recently, Ellis rarely smiled, never allowed anyone to touch him. Several years ago, he’d been made to watch his parents’ torture and murder by the Vice-King’s men for sedition. Only Natan’s impassioned plea to the court had saved his young life.

Natan had once again roused the animosity of Vice-King Danul that day, but well worth it. Ellis had his mother’s joyous features, his unique amber eyes standing out against his black hair and golden-brown skin, a combination of his mother’s fair Belegan complexion and his father’s darker Sennian heritage. Although not a tall man, he was agile and fearless and easily a match for the men he sparred with back home.

Natan glanced around expectantly. “Alek isn’t meeting us?”

“He was detained and sends his apologies,” Kavi told him. Natan wondered what was behind the shadow that fell over Cecil’s features on hearing his lover hadn’t come. As the head of the Karthagan people, Alek would be needed in the city. Especially these last few days, arranging for Aiden’s ascension ceremony. The Red Twin had come of age and would assume his role as leader. It was why Kavi had been with his kin a month now. To help with preparations.

Kavi held horses ready for the short ride to the city of Karthag. It delighted Natan to see Syros waiting for them at the city gates as they approached, and he slid from his mount. He hadn’t expected the Regent of Barkuit to meet them.

“My lord!” He bowed quickly, and Syros pushed the hand he held out aside to embrace him.

“How are you, Mage?”

“I’m well. How is your little boy?”

A tender smile touched Syros’s lips and he answered eagerly. “Excellent. I would have brought him, but Dani’s teething…” Syros flushed. “Forgive my enthusiasm, but of course I find him the most wonderful child on the planet. His mother would be proud—” Syros pressed his lips together, pain shadowing his gray eyes.

Natan touched his arm, compassion tightening his chest. Syros’s wife had died giving birth to their son. “I grieve for your loss, Syros. We all miss Sharana.”

The earnest young man waiting with Syros stepped forward and stretched out his hand. “Hello, Mage.” He nodded his head to Cecil and Ellis.

“My lord Willum.” Natan bowed to the Governor of Barkuit. At seventeen, Willum was a fit, muscular man of medium height, with the light attractive features of his mother, though there was a firmness to his lips that spoke of his strong-willed father.

He grinned at Natan now, eyeing his wet clothing, then flicked a glance at Kavi’s damp tunic. “Impatient, my lord? Never mind. Will you come to the castle? The air can turn chilly on the coast.” Willum’s mouth quirked and Natan’s smile broadened at the teasing.

“You know Ellis.” Natan pulled Ellis, who had been standing behind him, to his side.

“Of course.” Willum shook his hand while Syros bowed in his grave manner.

The group made their way to the courtyard, where they parted to clean up from the voyage. Natan noted the tiny smile playing on Kavi’s lips and caught his heated glances as Cecil led them up a stairway and down a long hallway of the castle, talking animatedly with Ellis all the while. Cecil paused outside the door to Kavi’s room and motioned them in but inexplicably remained in the doorway to belabor a point with Ellis. Natan watched them through narrowed eyes, then reached around Kavi to swing the door shut, Cecil barely managing to save his fingers as the heavy wood slammed on their grinning faces.

Once they were alone, Natan pulled Kavi close and Kavi laughed, tugging on Natan’s shirt. “Out of these wet clothes, Nattie.”

He helped Natan remove his sodden tunic, a hiss of anger escaping him on seeing the scars and fresh welts crisscrossing Natan’s chest and back. “The Vice-King goes too far. What was it this time? You can’t—”

“Hush.” Natan began to undo the braid in Kavi’s dark hair. He pulled Kavi into his arms as the familiar craving to have him ever closer took possession.

“The others will wonder where we are,” Kavi warned with a quick breath as Natan nimbly undid the ties on Kavi’s tunic, baring his torso.

“I don’t care,” Natan mumbled, staring at the dark nubs on Kavi’s chest, beautiful against his olive skin. He leaned down to blow cool air on a nipple and watched it tighten under his gaze. His mouth watered. “I haven’t seen you in a month. They can wait.”

He had to take tight control of his desire, slow down before he devoured Kavi whole, to be rewarded by Kavi’s gasp when he licked the sensitive point. A thrill shot through Natan. Even after all this time, his lover could still start that delicious ache inside as he anticipated Kavi’s skillful touch.

Drawing the tight little nub between his teeth, Natan tugged gently, Kavi’s deep moan jolting him with triumph and lust. Kavi squirmed as he licked and nibbled the tiny captive. Was he…? Natan dropped his hand and groped the front of Kavi’s pants, grinning when he felt the hard length under the thin material. Setting his palm on Kavi’s tight stomach, he slipped his hand inside his clothing.

Kavi’s breath hitched and he moaned Natan’s name. Natan momentarily lost his restraint. Kavi’s skin was warm and tight as Natan licked his way downward. He tugged off Kavi’s pants as he knelt and buried his face in the soft curls nestling his heavy cock. Natan’s heart tripped as he breathed in the heady scent of his man: his musk and sweat.

He needed more. Turning his head, he licked along the extended vein on Kavi’s hard length, took it in his mouth, and Kavi cried out when Natan lodged him in the back of his throat, swallowing convulsively. Kavi’s balls were heavy in his hand and he gently rolled them. Still not enough! He needed Kavi sprawled on the bed, spread open and eager for him.

He rose to his feet and gently pushed Kavi backward onto the soft quilts of the bed behind them, the yearning to find release in his lover’s body swamping him. His heart leaped at Kavi’s soft laugh and Kavi splayed his legs, offering himself for Natan’s pleasure. Natan widened his eyes at the erotic sight, his breath catching when Kavi lifted his hips. Moistening his lips, Natan bent and once again took Kavi’s delicious cock into his mouth, allowing his fingers to stray lower.

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.

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Giveaway

One lucky winner will receive a $50.00 NineStar Press Gift Code! 


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Monday, April 1, 2024

The Fallenwood Chronicles #GoddessFish

 


THE FALLENWOOD CHRONICLES

Leslie D. Soule

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GENRE: Fantasy

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BLURB:

The Fallenwood Chronicles is the ongoing story of Ash Kensington, a young woman who finds herself transported into a fantasy world, where she must take up arms in a battle of Good vs. Evil, against the Dark Lord Malegaunt. Tragedy strikes her life in the real world, but she finds friends in Fallenwood, like her mentor Will Everett, a talking cat named Greymalkin, and a court jester named Terces. Working together, they battle against the odds as Ash faces attacks from the world and from within. Eventually Ash finds the strength within herself, to attempt the fight against Malegaunt, against overwhelming odds, come what may.

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Excerpt

Her heart raced and she breathed slowly, trying to calm her frazzled nerves. Glancing around, she wondered how far off the road she’d wandered. She knew it had been midday when she’d started running, and now looking up into the star-filled sky, it had to be late into the night. A rush of air greeted her the moment she reached this strange part of the forest, before her eyes had temporarily forsaken her. The wind whipped around her from all sides. She backed away from where she stood, and the wind felt like it was whooshing up from a precipice. Ashley paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the dark. When her sight returned, she realized that she was standing nowhere near a cliff—it was just an unfamiliar area of forest. Suddenly, a ball of fire hurtled overhead in an arc toward her. Her mind screamed at her to run, but she found that her legs wouldn’t move. The flaming orb continued its descent, burrowing itself into the soft ground only inches away from Ashley’s boots. Two men rushed toward her, arguing all the while as Ashley stood immobilized. Her bones were in revolt. Her brain scrambled for an alias to give out to the men if they asked, but she could only come up with Ash, because she was looking at the little pile of soot at her boots. “Deflected,” the man in the lead announced.

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AUTHOR Bio and Links:

Leslie D. Soule received her M.A. in English from National University. She is a scholar, artist, citizen journalist, and martial artist. She has been an established writer for a decade, and has novels published by Melange Books, Terror House Press, Gypsy Shadow Publishing, and Nat 1 Publishing. The Fallenwood Chronicles is her 4-book fantasy series and features the novels Fallenwood, Forgetting Fallenwood, Betrayer, and Retribution.

Twitter handle: @Fallenwood1

Buy Links:

Amazon –


Book One: https://www.amazon.com/Fallenwood-Leslie-D-Soule-ebook/dp/B00OJR1KEA/ref=sr_1_2


Book Two: https://www.amazon.com/Forgetting-Fallenwood-Leslie-D-Soule-ebook/dp/B00HOXV4OW/ref=sr_1_1


Book Three: https://www.amazon.com/Betrayer-Fallenwood-Chronicles-Book-3-ebook/dp/B073RRKRGM/ref=sr_1_1


Book Four: https://www.amazon.com/Retribution-Fallenwood-Novel-Leslie-Soule-ebook/dp/B08D6T81QM/ref=sr_1_1


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GIVEAWAY INFORMATION and RAFFLECOPTER CODE

A randomly drawn winner will be awarded a $25 Amazon/BN gift card.

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Friday, March 22, 2024

Gifting a Dragon's Heart New Release Blitz #IndiGo

Title:  Gifting a Dragon's Heart

Author: Mell Eight

Publisher:  NineStar Press

Release Date: 03/19/2024

Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 39600

Genre: Fantasy, royalty, hunters, dragons, soldiers, magic

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Description

When he learns his father is dying, Roan leaves the wilds to return to the home he ran away from ten years prior. Roan knows the inevitable family reunion will be difficult, but then he meets Lyss, his former beau, who is the reason he had to leave. Roan doesn’t know what to feel or how to react to this older version of Lyss, but before he can get his emotions in order, a letter comes from the untamed wilds region telling him the town he’s called home for the last ten years is under attack. Traveling back to the wilds accompanied by Lyss ought to give Roan time to figure out his feelings. However, the army, wyverns, and dragons all make finding time to even speak with Lyss difficult. Besides, ten years is a long time. When the battle is over, Roan and Lyss have their own separate lives to return to, assuming they both survive the fight to come.

Excerpt

Gifting a Dragon’s Heart 
Mell Eight 
© 2024 All Rights Reserved 

 The sharply peaked roofs of Outpost came into view around noon as Roan followed the path beaten through tall, waving grass by generations of sturdy feet. Outpost had an official name on the maps, of course, but the locals simply called it what it was: an outpost station literally two steps from the start of the untamed wilds. 

 Roann replied, shrugging. “I like to send her gifts when I can.” 

 “Expensive gift,” Marius murmured, distracted by the blue skin. 

“Oh!” he added abruptly. “You got a letter last month.” 

 He stepped away from the bar to a lockbox kept along the back wall. He used the key around his neck to unlock the box and retrieve the letter for Roan. 

 “I sent the standard reply back to the return address, saying you were out in the field and would respond as soon as you could.” 

 Roan ripped open the envelope and pulled out the single piece of paper inside while Marius went back to the skins. 

 “Any hearts?” Marius asked, moving on to the red skin. 

 “Mar,” Roan replied, his tone as heavy as his frown. “You know you can’t sell a dragon’s heart.” 

 “Hah. You are the only roamer that follows that old adage, you realize. Besides, these are wyverns. No one’s seen a real dragon going on at least fifty years.”

 “Dragon hearts can only be given as gifts,” Roan finished the second half of the adage, completely uncaring that wyverns were only the smaller, considerably less dangerous cousin to dragons. He had the hearts for every skin in his bag, and a separate bag in his personal safe with the rest he had gathered over the last few years. At some point, he would hire a security crew to transport them home to his sister for him, and since he had the skin, maybe now was a good time to organize that. 

 “Whatever you say,” Marius replied, unrolling the orange skin. “You ever change your mind, the heart is worth double what you earn from these skins.” 

 “Just pay me for the skins and forget about the hearts,” Roan said, sighing. He and Marius had this same conversation every time Roan came back to Outpost to sell the skins he had harvested and re-provision for his next trip to the wilds. After a few days of rest and relaxation, sleeping in real beds, and using an actual shower, Roan would be more than ready to return to the peaceful solitude of the wilds. Roan finally unfolded the letter and found only a few lines of his sister’s loopy, angled writing inside. 

 Roanan, I don’t know when you’ll get this message, but I hope you hear the news from me first. Father is dying. I know you and he had your differences; however, he has requested to see you one last time. If you receive my letter before he’s gone, please consider coming home. Even if you’re too late to see him, I could use a show of your support by having you at my side for a time as we go through the mourning period and transition to my taking over. Please, please come home. I promise I will not do anything to prevent you from leaving when you’re ready to go, but I need you right now. All my love, Shanan 

 “Damn.” Roan refolded the letter and tipped his head back, staring unseeing at the wooden beams of the ceiling. “Damn,” he repeated. 

 “Everything okay?” Marius asked. 

 Roan looked down, glad to be able to refocus on Marius rather than his swirling thoughts. While Roan had been reading, Marius had rolled the skins back up and had started counting out silver coins for payment. He had paused in his counting, one coin held in his hand just above the stack, and he had a concerned look on his face. 

 Roan shook his head. “My sister needs me to come home, so it looks like my next trip is heading inland. Once you’re done counting, could you bring me my box from the safe?” 

 “Inland? Damn is right. I’m sorry anything is dragging you there.” 

 He finished counting the coins and headed to the back of the bar, where a massive safe door took up a large section of the wall. Unlike the lockbox, this was a modern, high-tech safe. Roan and other roamers paid for the extra protection, though. Marius placed his hand on the biometric scanner, letting it read his fingerprints and take a DNA sample from his sweat. The door clicked a moment later and swung outward. Marius vanished inside, returning after a few seconds with a large metal box with Roan’s name written on a piece of paper taped to the top. 

 Roan took the box, scooped up the coins, the green skin, and his letter, and stuffed it all into his much lighter pack. “Thanks, Mar. There a room at the inn?” he asked.

 “There should be. You need anything else?” 

 “Just to figure out when the next train leaves,” Roan replied.

Purchase

NineStar Press | Books2Read

Meet the Author

When Mell Eight was in high school, she discovered dragons. Beautiful, wondrous creatures that took her on epic adventures both to faraway lands and on journeys of the heart. Mell wanted to create dragons of her own, so she put pen to paper. Mell Eight is now known for her own soaring dragons, as well as for other wonderful characters dancing across the pages of her books. While she mostly writes paranormal or fantasy stories, she has been seen exploring the real world once or twice.

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