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Dianne Hartsock, author of Nathaniel, M/M fantasy romance, talks about heroism, specifically, the hero of her story, Taden.

The first Hero was a character in Greek mythology, a priestess of Aphrodite, goddess of love, at Sestos, a town on the Hellespont (now Dardanelles). Hero was loved by Leander, a youth who lived at Abydos, a town on the Asian side of the channel. They could not marry because Hero was bound by a vow of chastity, and so every night Leander swam from Asia to Europe, guided by a lamp in Hero's tower. One stormy night a high wind extinguished the beacon, and Leander was drowned. His body was washed ashore beneath Hero's tower; in her grief, she threw herself into the sea.

- from Wikipedia

In this legend, Leander was the true hero, risking his life to be with the person he loves. In my m/m erotic fantasy Nathaniel,Taden has met his dream man, the enchanting Nathaniel, who wields powers far beyond anything Taden has seen before.

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling out of his depth with Nathaniel. He’d never felt so drawn to anyone before. Maybe the young man had bewitched him. He certainly wasn’t acting rationally. And it frightened him that he didn’t care. Not so long as Nathaniel needed him.

Taden’s life has left him ill-prepared for the wonder that is Nathaniel. He’s a titled landowner, master of the family home and lands, and although he hasn’t seen war in his lifetime, uneasiness is growing between his country and the Sutherlin’s pushing at their border. He’s heard of magic users, but they belong to the far past when the witches had been driven from his continent.

And there was Nathaniel, beautiful and ethereal and broken, needing his aid. What was a man to do?

Nathaniel at last raised his eyes from buttoning his tunic. “Corin told you why I’m here, didn’t he?”

Taden steadied his features, cautious not to say the wrong thing. “Yes.”

Agony crossed Nathaniel’s face and he threw out his hands in a hopeless gesture. “I hadn’t meant it! I can’t always control…” He put a trembling hand over his eyes. “You must hate me. I’ll find my boat in the morning and leave you in peace.”

Taden ached to pull him into his arms. Nathaniel’s pain tore at his heart. But the man didn’t need his pity. He needed Taden to take control—now.

“Nattie, look at me,” he demanded.

Startled eyes met his, then Nathaniel drew a hard breath. “My lord?”

“We’re both tired and in need of dinner. Will you gather wood for a fire while I fetch my saddlebags? We can talk while we eat.”

Nathaniel looked baffled. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then surprised Taden by flushing dark red. Not from anger, Taden noted. Something else…

How could Taden leave him after that? He couldn’t, but as the author of this story, I needed to be careful here. How do I show Taden’s acceptance and love for Nathaniel without him appearing a weak man? Nor did I want him to sound too needy. Who wants a whiny hero with no back bone? I had to show the strength beneath his surrender.

Nathaniel lowered his eyes as he stirred the fire with a charred stick. “I’m not a witch. Not in the sense your people hold for that word.”

“Then what are you?”

Pain crossed the averted face. “I’m a man, same as you. Only I have certain abilities I was born with that other men don’t. There’s no magic or enchantment, no curses. I have only to want something, and it happens.”

“You wanted to kill those soldiers?”

“No!” Nathaniel’s gaze clashed with his, and Taden winced at the panic in his darling’s face. “I had to defend myself. Don’t I have that right?”

Taden wrapped his arms around his knees, fighting his heart. “You never should have come to our continent.”

Nathaniel gave him a stricken, heartbroken look. “Do you mean that?”

Taden stared back, searching his beautiful face. A single tear hung on a dark eyelash. Taden’s heart lurched, and he knew he would protect Nathaniel with his life, if need be. He’d fallen in love, perhaps from the moment of their first meeting when Nathaniel, as a prisoner, had raised his eyes so bravely to him, not knowing if Taden was a friend or another tormenter.

“Are you bewitching me?” he asked softly, not caring if he were. Nathaniel shook his head, then closed the short distance separating them.

“I’ve never influenced you, Taden. I felt no desire to do so at first, and now…” A shy smile touched his lips and he darted Taden a fond glance from under his lashes. “As sensitive as you are to me, you would know the moment I tried.”

“Is that so?” Taden caressed the inviting mouth with his thumb, moving closer until their lips almost touched.

As you can see, the hero of Nathaniel is not the all powerful magic user, but the courageous, honorable man who loves him. Taden risks everything, even his life, to keep Nathaniel safe. What more can anyone want in a hero?

Thanks, Susan, for having me as your guest today. You can find me here:

Dianne Hartsock

Blog: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/

FB: http://www.facebook.com/diannehartsock

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/diannehartsock

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/...

Nathaniel

Available from Etopia Press: http://etopiapressblog.wordpress.com/

From the moment Taden rescues Nathaniel from the Sutherlin soldiers’ torture, he finds himself caught in the gaze of the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen; amazing eyes that hold him thrilled and confused. The Sutherlins are planning to invade the beautiful Tahon Valley, but as Taden secrets Nathaniel from their reach, he finds himself drawn to the young man. Not only does he feel the urge to protect him, but he feels an ache he hasn’t felt in many long years.

Nathaniel claims to be a traveler from a distant continent, saying he comes in peace. True or not, the youth has powers beyond anything Taden has seen—control over men and animals and the very weather. Taden falls hard for the strange traveler, protecting him not only from the Sutherlins but from his own mistrustful people, who don’t understand Nathaniel’s powers and accuse him of being a witch…

Dianne Hartsock, author of Nathaniel, M/M fantasy romance, talks about heroism, specifically, the hero of her story, Taden.

The first Hero was a character in Greek mythology, a priestess of Aphrodite, goddess of love, at Sestos, a town on the Hellespont (now Dardanelles). Hero was loved by Leander, a youth who lived at Abydos, a town on the Asian side of the channel. They could not marry because Hero was bound by a vow of chastity, and so every night Leander swam from Asia to Europe, guided by a lamp in Hero's tower. One stormy night a high wind extinguished the beacon, and Leander was drowned. His body was washed ashore beneath Hero's tower; in her grief, she threw herself into the sea.               

- from Wikipedia

In this legend, Leander was the true hero, risking his life to be with the person he loves. In my m/m erotic fantasy Nathaniel,Taden has met his dream man, the enchanting Nathaniel, who wields powers far beyond anything Taden has seen before.

 He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling out of his depth with Nathaniel. He'd never felt so drawn to anyone before. Maybe the young man had bewitched him. He certainly wasn't acting rationally. And it frightened him that he didn't care. Not so long as Nathaniel needed him.

Taden's life has left him ill-prepared for the wonder that is Nathaniel. He's a titled landowner, master of the family home and lands, and although he hasn't seen war in his lifetime, uneasiness is growing between his country and the Sutherlin's pushing at their border. He's heard of magic users, but they belong to the far past when the witches had been driven from his continent.

And there was Nathaniel, beautiful and ethereal and broken, needing his aid. What was a man to do?

Nathaniel at last raised his eyes from buttoning his tunic. "Corin told you why I'm here, didn't he?"

Taden steadied his features, cautious not to say the wrong thing. "Yes."

Agony crossed Nathaniel's face and he threw out his hands in a hopeless gesture. "I hadn't meant it! I can't always control…" He put a trembling hand over his eyes. "You must hate me. I'll find my boat in the morning and leave you in peace."

Taden ached to pull him into his arms. Nathaniel's pain tore at his heart. But the man didn't need his pity. He needed Taden to take control—now.

"Nattie, look at me," he demanded.

Startled eyes met his, then Nathaniel drew a hard breath. "My lord?"

"We're both tired and in need of dinner. Will you gather wood for a fire while I fetch my saddlebags? We can talk while we eat."

Nathaniel looked baffled. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then surprised Taden by flushing dark red. Not from anger, Taden noted. Something else…

How could Taden leave him after that? He couldn't, but as the author of this story, I needed to be careful here. How do I show Taden's acceptance and love for Nathaniel without him appearing a weak man? Nor did I want him to sound too needy. Who wants a whiny hero with no back bone? I had to show the strength beneath his surrender.

Nathaniel lowered his eyes as he stirred the fire with a charred stick. "I'm not a witch. Not in the sense your people hold for that word."

"Then what are you?"

Pain crossed the averted face. "I'm a man, same as you. Only I have certain abilities I was born with that other men don't. There's no magic or enchantment, no curses. I have only to want something, and it happens."

"You wanted to kill those soldiers?"

"No!" Nathaniel's gaze clashed with his, and Taden winced at the panic in his darling's face. "I had to defend myself. Don't I have that right?"

Taden wrapped his arms around his knees, fighting his heart. "You never should have come to our continent."

Nathaniel gave him a stricken, heartbroken look. "Do you mean that?"

Taden stared back, searching his beautiful face. A single tear hung on a dark eyelash. Taden's heart lurched, and he knew he would protect Nathaniel with his life, if need be. He'd fallen in love, perhaps from the moment of their first meeting when Nathaniel, as a prisoner, had raised his eyes so bravely to him, not knowing if Taden was a friend or another tormenter.

"Are you bewitching me?" he asked softly, not caring if he were. Nathaniel shook his head, then closed the short distance separating them.

"I've never influenced you, Taden. I felt no desire to do so at first, and now…" A shy smile touched his lips and he darted Taden a fond glance from under his lashes. "As sensitive as you are to me, you would know the moment I tried."

"Is that so?" Taden caressed the inviting mouth with his thumb, moving closer until their lips almost touched.

As you can see, the hero of Nathaniel is not the all powerful magic user, but the courageous, honorable man who loves him. Taden risks everything, even his life, to keep Nathaniel safe. What more can anyone want in a hero?

Thanks, Susan, for having me as your guest today. You can find me here:

Dianne Hartsock

Blog: http://diannehartsock.wordpress.com/

FB: http://www.facebook.com/diannehartsock

Twitter: http://twitter.com/#!/diannehartsock

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4850270.Dianne_Hartsock

Nathaniel

Available from Etopia Press: http://etopiapressblog.wordpress.com/

From the moment Taden rescues Nathaniel from the Sutherlin soldiers' torture, he finds himself caught in the gaze of the most beautiful eyes he's ever seen; amazing eyes that hold him thrilled and confused. The Sutherlins are planning to invade the beautiful Tahon Valley, but as Taden secrets Nathaniel from their reach, he finds himself drawn to the young man. Not only does he feel the urge to protect him, but he feels an ache he hasn't felt in many long years.

  Nathaniel claims to be a traveler from a distant continent, saying he comes in peace. True or not, the youth has powers beyond anything Taden has seen—control over men and animals and the very weather. Taden falls hard for the strange traveler, protecting him not only from the Sutherlins but from his own mistrustful people, who don't understand Nathaniel's powers and accuse him of being a witch…

This is to celebrate the impending re-release of Sherry, Baby, previously published by Five Star as Triangle, where it sank without a trace as though it had been lost in the Bermuda Triangle, where the book is set. With a few revisions, it's now ready for prime time.

In it, twenty-nothings Free and Sherry discover they can foil a killer, save a ship and fall in love.

BTW this isn't yet edited so the final version may be different. And the cover you see here is the draft.

***

Sherry went to her quarters to brush her hair and her teeth, then donned a sweater against the cool October evening. By the time she went topside, full night had fallen. The only light illuminating the main deck of the Swashbuckler came from the salon; a smaller lamp in the wheelhouse enabled the pilot to guide the craft. Above her, a match flared, briefly illuminating someone seated on the deck that topped the wheelhouse.

"Come on up," Free said.

She eyed the metal rungs soldered to the outside of the wheelhouse, deciding that they looked simple and sturdy enough for her to negotiate. She climbed up and found Free slouched on a built-in bench, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette. A beer was balanced on the railing next to him. He offered her the cigarette.

"What is it?" she asked.

"A spliff. Try it."

She sucked on the end, pulling smoke into her mouth. She coughed. "What's in it?" 

"Jamaican and tobacco."

"Oh." Taking a chance that the mixture wouldn't sear her throat, she drew a hit deep into her lungs. She let the smoke out slowly, waiting for the marijuana to calm her. She hoped she wouldn't get the munchies. She'd had a good diet day, though it had been tough. Chaz was a crazy culinary genius who could destroy her body singlehandedly.

Free knocked on the floor—which was, she realized, the ceiling of the bridge—and a hand holding another bottle of beer thrust out of one of the wheelhouse's open windows. Simmons, she guessed, engaging in a routine familiar to both men. Free handed the beer to her and, in a surprisingly amicable silence, she and Free finished the smoke and sipped their beers.

Finally he spoke. "Quite a scene, down at dinner." He tossed the roach over the side of the boat.

She watched the tiny red ash disappear into the roiling water flowing past the yacht. "Yes, they have their spats."

"What does Blair Armstrong have on Dr. Rankin?"

"What do you mean?"

He hesitated. "When I went outside, she seemed to be threatening him with something. He almost went for her throat."

"Nathan? Hmmm. That's strange."

"What do you think of Nona and Orlando?"

She laughed. "They're perfect. I can't believe we haven't seen them satirized on Comedy Central."

"So your Board of Directors thinks that Hippy and Dippy can teach Philip, Blair, and Nathan to make nice?"

They both laughed.

"And Blair seems to have brought her private agenda," Sherry said. Nathan usually spent most of his time in his lab, using assistants to keep Blair at bay. Here, Blair could pressure him constantly about her fertility, which everyone at Genesplice knew was her fixation.

"Hell, everyone on this trip has a private agenda."

Sherry rubbed her cheeks, hoping to hide her guilty flush from Free.

He asked, "So what's your game? I noticed that you and the good Dr. Rankin seemed pretty chummy."

She hated the way her face gave away everything she thought or felt. "He should be."

"Have you slept with him yet?" Free's tone was casual.

She glared at him. "You have no right to ask that question."

"Don't get your panties in a bundle. If anyone's playing musical beds, the captain and crew need to know in case of emergencies."

"Oh. Well, we have."

He cocked a brow at her. "You don't sound all head-over-heels to me. Is he good in the sack?"

She nearly fell off the bench. "That's none of your business!"

"Okay, he's lousy. So why do you bother?"

Whoa. After maybe fifteen seconds of analyzing her relationship with Nathan, Captain Freeman had nailed her to the wall, defining the issue in a nutshell. Nathan was as single-minded in pursuit of orgasms as he was in pursuit of his scientific goals, and after he got what he wanted in bed, he was done.

Regardless of whether or not Sherry had gotten what she wanted or needed.

Crap. She didn't want to discuss this with Free, did she? Why would he care?

This was one of the strangest conversations Sherry had ever experienced, even while under the influence of multiple substances. But the pot had made her a little loose and chatty, so she said, "I care about Nathan, but—"

"He doesn't ring your chimes." Free's voice was rough.

She blew out a breath. Tipping her head back, she regarded the stars. "He's my best chance."

"Your best chance at what?"

"To get out of the hole I'm in. My job stinks. I can't do anything else. I need to get married, and fast."

"You pregnant?"

"No."

"So what's your hurry? Pretty girl like you ought to be playing the field."

Sherry wondered if Free meant playing with him. She said, "I'm nearly thirty. Washed up. Getting old. If I can't find a secure situation soon, I'm toast."

"Why don't you get a better job? These jerk brains treat you like garbage. You know, there isn't enough money in the world to make me put up with these people for any longer than this cruise. I don't know how you do it."

"I can't get a better job." Fury, shame, and sorrow made her spit out the words. "I barely crawled through high school."

"I don't believe that. You're not stupid."

"Yes, I am. I was diagnosed with a learning disability when I was nine. My mother told me that my face was my fortune, and I'd better marry well. Nathan's my best chance."

Free started to laugh, then guffaw. "I've never heard such a crock of shit in my entire life."

"It's true." She heard the bitterness in her voice, but she didn't care what Free thought.

"You want to be Nathan Rankin's trophy wife? Come on. You can do more than type and screw."

"How do you know?"

"I've watched you. You handle a group of very difficult people with tact and aplomb."

"Aplomb?" She turned that over in her mind.

"Yeah. Aplomb. What about the poofters?"

"Poofters?" Free's change of subject momentarily startled Sherry. "Oh, Philip and his latest fling. Philip can be as mouthy as Blair, but he's really a fangless snake. Slimy but harmless. Greg is just his meal du jour. Philip chews 'em up and spits 'em out on a regular basis. He's quite a piece of work. He loves shallowly, hates deeply, and holds a grudge forever."

Free leaned back and eyed her. "We'd best keep an eye on Philip, the crew and I."

"Yeah, but don't let him get the wrong idea." Sherry shrugged. "Heck, for all I know, for you it could be the right idea."

"What?"

Even in the starlight, she could see astonishment all over his face. She was seized by a fit of the giggles. The pot had definitely kicked in.

"I'll have you know…" Free started. "Aw, what the hell," he said, and jammed a hand into her hair, bringing her close. Their lips were no more than a hairsbreadth apart.

Sherry gasped.

He drew back. "No," he said.

"N-no?" She searched her feelings, trying to figure out if she was disappointed or not.

"No." He sounded firm. "You think men value you for your looks, and that you have nothing else to offer. I'm going to prove you wrong."

Picking up his Red Stripe, he left the upper deck.

I’m sure by now that my blog’s followers as well as my FB friends know of my love–no, lust–for travel. Most people can’t stand it anymore, claiming that airport security and airline scrimping have transformed air travel into a pain rather than a pleasure. So to avoid some of the nonsense, I went on a road trip with my mom to Santa Barbara. There, we stayed at her cousin’s home in Montecito and visited with my nephew Alex, a freshman at SBCC.

 

Renee, my mom and my nephew in Renee's beautiful back yard

 

The next sushi king at his workplace

 

The drive to and from NoCal was a PITA, but I’d do it again just to go to the beach!

Local beaches are justly famed

I'm sure by now that my blog's followers as well as my FB friends know of my love–no, lust–for travel. Most people can't stand it anymore, claiming that airport security and airline scrimping have transformed air travel into a pain rather than a pleasure. So to avoid some of the nonsense, I went on a road trip with my mom to Santa Barbara. There, we stayed at her cousin's home in Montecito and visited with my nephew Alex, a freshman at SBCC.

 

Renee, my mom and my nephew in Renee's beautiful back yard

 

The next sushi king at his workplace

 

The drive to and from NoCal was a PITA, but I'd do it again just to go to the beach!

Local beaches are justly famed

http://getlostinastory.blogspot.com/ about Lord Devere’s Ward and other things, namely my love for Venice and villainy. Plus, if you answer the question posed at the end of the interview, you could win a free copy of any of my ebooks.

Intrigued? Please visit.

http://getlostinastory.blogspot.com/ about Lord Devere's Ward and other things, namely my love for Venice and villainy. Plus, if you answer the question posed at the end of the interview, you could win a free copy of any of my ebooks.

Intrigued? Please visit.

It’s my pleasure to introduce you to Tris’ bestselling work. The Hun and the General is way-fun stuff, gay historical romance. If you’ve read my blogs here and there, you know that I love historical romance, more so because of the history. Writing historicals is an excuse for wandering around the web and libraries researching the clothes people wore and the food they ate. Going to museums to discover how beds were constructed in days gone by. Looking at the cabinets where they put their jewelry and admiring said jewelry.

Here’s the blurb for The Hun and the General:

Livianus is bored and longs for action. His reward for serving Rome is the governorship of a quiet corner of Gaul, but as he whiles away his days at his sumptuous villa, his thoughts turn to Attila the Hun, the feared barbarian with whom Livianus once enjoyed an intimate friendship. When a desperate emperor asks him to return to Pannonia to broker a truce with Attila, Livianus’s old passion flares.

Attila is losing the will to go on. He is tired of being a tyrant but his people’s future depends on him. The arrival of Livianus renews Attila’s spirit as he prepares to march on Constantinople. Livianus has nothing to bargain with, but when the emperor’s sister delivers a proposition for Attila, a new and brighter future seems to lay directly ahead. For the people, and especially for the two men.

But the deadly hand of the emperor isn’t interested in peace, and as their plans are destroyed, only one course of action remains open to the Hun and the general.

And here’s an excerpt:

Livianus sat on a stool at the side of the bath and watched Caecilius bathe. “I would join you but I can’t face the heat.”

“But you’ll swim with me?”

“That I will certainly do. I seem to spend half my time in the pool—it’s the only way to cope with the summers. The lack of activity makes me soft.”

“The soothsayers tell us these heat waves are the forerunners of a great disaster.”

“Do they ever have anything good to say? Doom mongers, that’s all they are. I’m surprised they have anyone’s ear in this day and age.”

“They’ve been right before.”

“We’ve all been right before. But we’ve been wrong more often.”

Caecilius lay on his back and floated to the surface. His body had lost none of its tightness, the water swilling over his stomach muscles like a stream over smoothed stones. He laid his head back in the water, and his hips broke the surface. The water flattened his pubic hair to his skin, making his thick cock look even longer than Livianus remembered.

Livianus felt his eyebrows arch. “Let’s swim. You’re as clean as you’re going to get,” he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his toga. “One good thing about this place is the spring that flows from the hills behind the villa. I have the best pool in Gaul.”

Caecilius climbed from the bath and shook off the excess water. He grabbed a towel and walked naked alongside Livianus. Out of the corner of his eye, Livianus saw Caecilius’s cock swinging like a loose stirrup, and a knot began to form in his groin.

“The rumors about this place are true,” said Caecilius, looking around.

“Rumors? About my villa? By Jupiter, have they nothing better to talk about?”

Caecilius chuckled. “You still swear on the old gods.”

“I feel my soul is safer that way.”

“Don’t forget you’re a hero. The people need to know that our heroes are well rewarded.”

“Ah, to encourage others to lay their lives on the line when the emperor requires it.” Livianus gestured toward the pool steps. “After you.”

Caecilius dropped his towel on the floor and descended the steps until the water reached his waist. “You’ve grown cynical in your retirement. Perhaps it doesn’t agree with you after all.” He lunged into the water, glided to the center, then turned onto his back. “What would you say if I told you I’d come to take you away from here?”

“I’d say about time. They call it retirement but it’s no better than a slow death. God, I thought Paestum was dull!” Livianus dived into the water and swam to his friend’s side. Caecilius hadn’t aged at all since they last met. Not a single gray hair on his head or chin. His brown eyes radiated youth and strength. “How long is it since we were together?”

“Four years. Maybe five.”

“Seems longer.” Livianus scooped his friend’s head toward him with a hand and pressed their lips together. “I’ve missed you, Caecilius,” he said as he tore his lips away. “Is it true you’ve come for me?”

“I carry an order bearing the seals of Theodosius and Valentinian—”

“Both emperors? I can barely imagine the scale of the sacrifice they wish me to make. Suddenly Gaul appeals to me.” He laughed and swam around his friend.

“How long did you spend in Pannonia? Two years?”

“Three. Why do you ask?”

At that moment, Publius and another slave, an African, brought out towels and clothes.

“Ah, lunch beckons,” said Livianus, swimming for the steps. “I have a good cook, I’m happy to say. With any luck we’ll have sparrows and make you feel at home.” He climbed from the water and turned, allowing Publius to rub him down.

Caecilius emerged from the pool and received the same treatment from the other slave. “I don’t know why you complain, Livianus. I could get used to this.”

“That’s because you don’t have it. Your life is still full of purpose. I can see from your muscles that you are still active, and I can tell from your cunning that you debate with the best of them.” Livianus slipped into a fresh toga and lifted his feet one at a time so Publius could slide sandals onto them. “Are you going to tell me what our esteemed leaders want of me? Or do I have to drag it out of you?” He slipped an arm through his friend’s and sauntered toward the dining room.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“I jest, Caecilius. I have so much time on my hands, and have for what seems an eternity, that I never rush anything these days.” He cleared his throat. “But I am curious as to why you should ask me about Pannonia.”

Caecilius stopped walking and looked at the frescoed ceiling. “There’s no way to dress this up, my friend. I wish I could.” He lowered his eyes and looked directly at Livianus. “You are to return to Pannonia.”

Livianus’s heart skipped a beat, and his head spun as if he’d drunk too much wine in the midday sun. “Return to Pannonia? But I don’t understand.”

Caecilius grasped his arm, and they passed between twin marble columns into the dining room. “You don’t look well.”

“Must be the shock.” Livianus slapped his forehead with the back of his hand for dramatic effect.

Caecilius took Livianus’s weight. “Slave, some wine.”

Publius served wine while Caecilius guided Livianus onto a couch. Caecilius pressed a goblet to Livianus’s lips.

“Don’t fuss. I’m fine.” Livianus drank, then peered at Caecilius over the rim of his goblet. “Pannonia?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Attila is preparing to attack Constantinople.”

“Never!”

“We are certain of it.”

“Attila is no fool. He knows that even the might of the Huns is no match for the great Theodosian walls. Laying siege has never been his strong point.”

“Let us pray that is the case, but he prepares his hordes as we speak.”

“Then he’s taken leave of his senses and his people will slay him.”

“The emperors, the senate, cannot take that chance. In any case, he could be replaced by an even greater monster.”

Livianus slammed his goblet on the table beside the couch. “He is no monster!”

“I beg to differ, Livianus. He’s swept across the empire slaying, burning, and robbing, and you—”

“And I, yes I, have spent time with him. I have lived with the Huns, hunted with them, learned their ways, their language. Just because they are different from us does not make them any less creatures of the gods.” Livianus clenched his fists and pressed them into the seat cushion. “If Attila is even considering a march on Constantinople, it means he’s been provoked.”

“Provoked?”

“When my last embassy to Pannonia departed, we had achieved peace.”

“A great peace, but at a cost.” Caecilius crunched into a roast sparrow.

“Ah! So that’s it.” Livianus got to his feet and crossed to the other side of the central table, then turned and looked at Caecilius. Suddenly, the sight of the Roman stuffing his face turned his mouth bitter. He planted his hands on the table and glowered at Caecilius. “Tell me exactly what Theodosius has done to bring this upon us.”

Caecilius tossed bones onto his plate and wiped his mouth. “We couldn’t go on paying three hundred and fifty pounds of gold a year just to keep the peace.”

“What did Theodosius reduce it to?” A pointless question, since any reduction was a betrayal.

“He didn’t reduce it. He stopped it.”

“Stopped it? After all that effort?”

“As soon as the walls were completed.”

Livianus straightened and drummed the table with his fingers. “Then he must have expected retaliation.” He looked for his friend’s nod of agreement. “He thought he was safe behind his barricade. So what’s changed?”

“We’ve been losing ground on all fronts, Livianus. The empire is dying. If Attila attacks before this winter, our troops are too scattered and too few. All Attila would have to do, as you have so astutely realized, is lay the city to siege and wait.”

Livianus rubbed his chin. “What a sorry state Rome has become.” He shook his head and pulled on his lower lip. “And I suppose I’m to go and broker a new peace, is that so?”

“I carry all the documents. You will be restored to the army with the title Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces.”

“And no doubt I shall be duly rewarded when I return, assuming I return triumphant?”

“Of course. Theodosius himself—”

“Theodosius himself is all but bankrupt, you’ve told me that already.” He waved a hand dismissively. “This that I do, I do for the people of Rome and the empire I have loved, not for the emperor—not even for both of them.”

“So you will go?”

“Yes, I will go. But tell your masters in Ravenna and Constantinople that this time it will cost them a lot more than a governor’s seal and a villa at the arse end of the empire.”

***

Like what you read? Here’s where you can buy the book:

All Romance EBooks: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thehunandthegeneral-648816-145.html

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Hun-General-ebook/dp/B006GHC3HE

And here’s where you can learn more about the illustrious author:

http://tristramlaroche.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100002276172449

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/TristramLaRoche

Enjoy!

It's my pleasure to introduce you to Tris' bestselling work. The Hun and the General is way-fun stuff, gay historical romance. If you've read my blogs here and there, you know that I love historical romance, more so because of the history. Writing historicals is an excuse for wandering around the web and libraries researching the clothes people wore and the food they ate. Going to museums to discover how beds were constructed in days gone by. Looking at the cabinets where they put their jewelry and admiring said jewelry.

Here's the blurb for The Hun and the General:

Livianus is bored and longs for action. His reward for serving Rome is the governorship of a quiet corner of Gaul, but as he whiles away his days at his sumptuous villa, his thoughts turn to Attila the Hun, the feared barbarian with whom Livianus once enjoyed an intimate friendship. When a desperate emperor asks him to return to Pannonia to broker a truce with Attila, Livianus's old passion flares.

Attila is losing the will to go on. He is tired of being a tyrant but his people's future depends on him. The arrival of Livianus renews Attila's spirit as he prepares to march on Constantinople. Livianus has nothing to bargain with, but when the emperor's sister delivers a proposition for Attila, a new and brighter future seems to lay directly ahead. For the people, and especially for the two men.

But the deadly hand of the emperor isn't interested in peace, and as their plans are destroyed, only one course of action remains open to the Hun and the general.

And here's an excerpt:

Livianus sat on a stool at the side of the bath and watched Caecilius bathe. "I would join you but I can't face the heat."

"But you'll swim with me?"

"That I will certainly do. I seem to spend half my time in the pool—it's the only way to cope with the summers. The lack of activity makes me soft."

"The soothsayers tell us these heat waves are the forerunners of a great disaster."

"Do they ever have anything good to say? Doom mongers, that's all they are. I'm surprised they have anyone's ear in this day and age."

"They've been right before."

"We've all been right before. But we've been wrong more often."

Caecilius lay on his back and floated to the surface. His body had lost none of its tightness, the water swilling over his stomach muscles like a stream over smoothed stones. He laid his head back in the water, and his hips broke the surface. The water flattened his pubic hair to his skin, making his thick cock look even longer than Livianus remembered.

Livianus felt his eyebrows arch. "Let's swim. You're as clean as you're going to get," he said, rising to his feet and adjusting his toga. "One good thing about this place is the spring that flows from the hills behind the villa. I have the best pool in Gaul."

Caecilius climbed from the bath and shook off the excess water. He grabbed a towel and walked naked alongside Livianus. Out of the corner of his eye, Livianus saw Caecilius's cock swinging like a loose stirrup, and a knot began to form in his groin.

"The rumors about this place are true," said Caecilius, looking around.

"Rumors? About my villa? By Jupiter, have they nothing better to talk about?"

Caecilius chuckled. "You still swear on the old gods."

"I feel my soul is safer that way."

"Don't forget you're a hero. The people need to know that our heroes are well rewarded."

"Ah, to encourage others to lay their lives on the line when the emperor requires it." Livianus gestured toward the pool steps. "After you."

Caecilius dropped his towel on the floor and descended the steps until the water reached his waist. "You've grown cynical in your retirement. Perhaps it doesn't agree with you after all." He lunged into the water, glided to the center, then turned onto his back. "What would you say if I told you I'd come to take you away from here?"

"I'd say about time. They call it retirement but it's no better than a slow death. God, I thought Paestum was dull!" Livianus dived into the water and swam to his friend's side. Caecilius hadn't aged at all since they last met. Not a single gray hair on his head or chin. His brown eyes radiated youth and strength. "How long is it since we were together?"

"Four years. Maybe five."

"Seems longer." Livianus scooped his friend's head toward him with a hand and pressed their lips together. "I've missed you, Caecilius," he said as he tore his lips away. "Is it true you've come for me?"

"I carry an order bearing the seals of Theodosius and Valentinian—"

"Both emperors? I can barely imagine the scale of the sacrifice they wish me to make. Suddenly Gaul appeals to me." He laughed and swam around his friend.

"How long did you spend in Pannonia? Two years?"

"Three. Why do you ask?"

At that moment, Publius and another slave, an African, brought out towels and clothes.

"Ah, lunch beckons," said Livianus, swimming for the steps. "I have a good cook, I'm happy to say. With any luck we'll have sparrows and make you feel at home." He climbed from the water and turned, allowing Publius to rub him down.

Caecilius emerged from the pool and received the same treatment from the other slave. "I don't know why you complain, Livianus. I could get used to this."

"That's because you don't have it. Your life is still full of purpose. I can see from your muscles that you are still active, and I can tell from your cunning that you debate with the best of them." Livianus slipped into a fresh toga and lifted his feet one at a time so Publius could slide sandals onto them. "Are you going to tell me what our esteemed leaders want of me? Or do I have to drag it out of you?" He slipped an arm through his friend's and sauntered toward the dining room.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

"I jest, Caecilius. I have so much time on my hands, and have for what seems an eternity, that I never rush anything these days." He cleared his throat. "But I am curious as to why you should ask me about Pannonia."

Caecilius stopped walking and looked at the frescoed ceiling. "There's no way to dress this up, my friend. I wish I could." He lowered his eyes and looked directly at Livianus. "You are to return to Pannonia."

Livianus's heart skipped a beat, and his head spun as if he'd drunk too much wine in the midday sun. "Return to Pannonia? But I don't understand."

Caecilius grasped his arm, and they passed between twin marble columns into the dining room. "You don't look well."

"Must be the shock." Livianus slapped his forehead with the back of his hand for dramatic effect.

Caecilius took Livianus's weight. "Slave, some wine."

Publius served wine while Caecilius guided Livianus onto a couch. Caecilius pressed a goblet to Livianus's lips.

"Don't fuss. I'm fine." Livianus drank, then peered at Caecilius over the rim of his goblet. "Pannonia?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Attila is preparing to attack Constantinople."

"Never!"

"We are certain of it."

"Attila is no fool. He knows that even the might of the Huns is no match for the great Theodosian walls. Laying siege has never been his strong point."

"Let us pray that is the case, but he prepares his hordes as we speak."

"Then he's taken leave of his senses and his people will slay him."

"The emperors, the senate, cannot take that chance. In any case, he could be replaced by an even greater monster."

Livianus slammed his goblet on the table beside the couch. "He is no monster!"

"I beg to differ, Livianus. He's swept across the empire slaying, burning, and robbing, and you—"

"And I, yes I, have spent time with him. I have lived with the Huns, hunted with them, learned their ways, their language. Just because they are different from us does not make them any less creatures of the gods." Livianus clenched his fists and pressed them into the seat cushion. "If Attila is even considering a march on Constantinople, it means he's been provoked."

"Provoked?"

"When my last embassy to Pannonia departed, we had achieved peace."

"A great peace, but at a cost." Caecilius crunched into a roast sparrow.

"Ah! So that's it." Livianus got to his feet and crossed to the other side of the central table, then turned and looked at Caecilius. Suddenly, the sight of the Roman stuffing his face turned his mouth bitter. He planted his hands on the table and glowered at Caecilius. "Tell me exactly what Theodosius has done to bring this upon us."

Caecilius tossed bones onto his plate and wiped his mouth. "We couldn't go on paying three hundred and fifty pounds of gold a year just to keep the peace."

"What did Theodosius reduce it to?" A pointless question, since any reduction was a betrayal.

"He didn't reduce it. He stopped it."

"Stopped it? After all that effort?"

"As soon as the walls were completed."

Livianus straightened and drummed the table with his fingers. "Then he must have expected retaliation." He looked for his friend's nod of agreement. "He thought he was safe behind his barricade. So what's changed?"

"We've been losing ground on all fronts, Livianus. The empire is dying. If Attila attacks before this winter, our troops are too scattered and too few. All Attila would have to do, as you have so astutely realized, is lay the city to siege and wait."

Livianus rubbed his chin. "What a sorry state Rome has become." He shook his head and pulled on his lower lip. "And I suppose I'm to go and broker a new peace, is that so?"

"I carry all the documents. You will be restored to the army with the title Supreme Commander of the Imperial Forces."

"And no doubt I shall be duly rewarded when I return, assuming I return triumphant?"

"Of course. Theodosius himself—"

"Theodosius himself is all but bankrupt, you've told me that already." He waved a hand dismissively. "This that I do, I do for the people of Rome and the empire I have loved, not for the emperor—not even for both of them."

"So you will go?"

"Yes, I will go. But tell your masters in Ravenna and Constantinople that this time it will cost them a lot more than a governor's seal and a villa at the arse end of the empire."

***

Like what you read? Here's where you can buy the book:

All Romance EBooks: http://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-thehunandthegeneral-648816-145.html

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/Hun-General-ebook/dp/B006GHC3HE

And here's where you can learn more about the illustrious author:

http://tristramlaroche.com/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/profile.php?id=100002276172449

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/TristramLaRoche

Enjoy!

My Sunshine Award!

Courtesy of Catherine Cavendish–http://www.catherinecavendish.com/

I understand that the rules mean that I have to post ten things that make me smile, which is easy:

1) A productive day writing

2) My wonderful family

3) My puppy (see left)

4) traveling–doesn't matter where I'm going–I just like to go somewhere new!

5) An author dedicating a book I edited to me (see Cat Cavendish And others, I'm pleased to say).

6) Sacramento's 2d Saturday art walk

7) Scented candles

8) Staying in my hot yoga class for the entire 90 minutes

9) Tasty, healthy food

10) A good night of rest.

I'm a simple person, easily pleased. It's one of my best traits. Give me a good book and a puppy snoozing on my lap–and I'm happy.