Spotlight & Giveaway: THE HEARTLESS ONE by Emma Hamm

Today it is my pleasure to Welcome author Emma Hamm to HJ!

Hi Emma and welcome to HJ! We’re so excited to chat with you about your new release, THE HEARTLESS ONE!

Please summarize the book for the readers here:

Princess Jessamine and her powerful lover Elric, God of Death, join forces to save her plague-stricken kingdom. Murdered at her own wedding, Princess Jessamine never expected a mysterious god to ressurect her, a favor she would soon repay. Back in the flesh, the pair leads a coven of witches to challenge the usurper who stole her throne. Fraught with evil and traitors around every corner, Jessamine’s world is in turmoil. Jessamine and Elric must prepare their coven to meet the kingdom’s forces in battle—before her bloodthirsty ex-fiance learns to harness the power of the gods. The only thing is, Jessamine may have to accept that fighting for her kingdom might mean fighting against it…
 

Please share your favorite line(s) or quote from this book:

“Fire reflected in her gaze as she replied, “I’m doing them all a favor, Elric. I’m killing them, because no one else can.”

Please share a few Fun facts about this book…

FOUND FAMILY! That’s my favorite thing. Every witch in this book that is added to the roster of characters gets her own flavor of magic. Each of them reflect a really important part of their personality. Something that is both a strength, and a flaw. That can really be looked into a low to see what each character struggles with, and what they would celebrate.

What first attracts your Hero to the Heroine and vice versa?

Elric is first attracted to Jessamine because of her quiet strength. The endurance it takes for her to keep going calls out to him. But then it’s just her kindness. She’s not afraid to look at him as something other than a god. She doesn’t mind that he’s maybe not quite normal. She doesn’t even care that he isn’t as powerful as other gods. He is simply himself, and that is very much a luxury he hasn’t been afforded with other people.

Did any scene have you blushing, crying or laughing while writing it? And Why?

The mirror scene. You’ll get it once you get there.

“He looked into the mirror to see her smiling. She lifted her hand, reaching behind herself to place those delicate fingers on the back of his head. Together, they were a picture of wanton desire. Her cheeks burnished with a red stain, the deep hollows of her collarbone calling out for him to taste.

Dragging his hand down her raised arm, he held her gaze as his fingers met the buttons that dotted down the front of her bodice. The red on her cheeks became more pronounced as he popped one button, then the next, dancing down the entire line until her bodice sagged open. He slowly slid his hand underneath the fabric.”

Readers should read this book….

If you’re looking for an escape from this world. If you want to see the good guys win, even if the good guys aren’t what we’ve been “told” are the heroes.

What are you currently working on? What other releases do you have in the works?

I am currently working on a new series that is a surprise, but my upcoming release is the third book in this series! It’s currently slated for September (subject to change), but keep an eye out on my socials for the cover reveal very very soon!
 

Thanks for blogging at HJ!

Giveaway: (1) A copy of THE HEARTLESS ONE by Emma Hamm

To enter Giveaway: Please complete the Rafflecopter form and Post a comment to this Q: If you could be a witch with any power, what kind of power would you want?

Excerpt from THE HEARTLESS ONE:

Dappled sunlight was just as Elric remembered.
The crystalline patterns of golden rays broke through emerald leaves and scattered across his features. Sparks seared his vision when he stared at them for too long, but that was just part of the beauty. A little pain was worth every sacrifice to be alive.
Lying in the grass, he felt every blade that brushed his skin. He could smell the greenery that grew around him and hear the wind blowing through the leaves. Oak stars rustled in harmony with the rhythmic twitters of bird song. The brush of the wind over his bare chest cooled the sweat from his skin. And the sapphire sky above him was dotted with fluffy clouds that drifted over his head. Boats on the sea of the sky, they gently rocked forward as he watched.
Fingers carded through his hair, sliding through the thick strands that were longer than the last time he’d taken this form. There were changes in this body, but not as many as the last time. He’d been different in every reincarnation. but this time, he wanted to look like he had in his last form. It was the one humans were more likely to recognize, after all.
And maybe it was because this form was the one she had seen. This body was the one she had looked upon as a statue and it had made her blush. Some part of him wanted to make her feel that same way. Or perhaps, to see that blush for himself and not just an inanimate object.
His head rested in Jessamine’s lap. She’d been leaning back on one hand, staring up at the clouds with him as they just enjoyed each other’s silent company. They’d beaten Callum only a few days ago, and everything had been a tangled mess of preparing for their next step, trying to get him used to this new body, and finding Sybil. He had less time with her to himself than he’d wished.
The trail had led them to Fortuna Beaumont, a noblewoman of the Pleasure District and close confidante of both Callum’s and Leon’s. Unfortunately, that had taken up far too much of their time. He wanted more of everything with her.
Jessamine’s fingers worked through a tangle that had started at the end of the strands before sighing. “Is it everything you remembered?”
He knew what she was asking. Life. Living. Was breathing in the crisp air everything he had dreamt it to be?
Of course it was. It was everything that he had missed, and far more than that. This life surged through him in pulses of magic and power. He wanted to consume it. To devour every part of living for the moment when he wouldn’t be here anymore.
And yet, there was another part of him that feared losing all this. If he was too close to this life, if he enjoyed it too much, then he would only suffer more when he returned to that realm of darkness.
Her fingers slipped down from his hair to his temples and gently lifted his face. Elric was forced to look up into those dark eyes that saw too much. But gods, what a view.
Jessamine truly was a nightmarish witch. After their fight with Callum, she’d embraced everything it was to be a gravesinger. Not only was she deeply connected to him, but she’d resurrected him. She’d done all that a gravesinger was needed to do, and now she shared in his glutted power. Her wild, dark hair billowed around her face like smoke. His mark around her neck fairly glowed, as though he’d locked a silver collar around her throat. It was a sure sign that she was as bound to him as he was to her. His gravesinger.
A tiny spark of unbidden magic trailed through her fingers, zinging along his skin as she traced the outline of his jaw. “I can tell what you’re thinking,” she murmured. “This is not a fleeting moment. This is yours. I have gifted it to you, and I will not take it back.”
“I know,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her inner wrist and lingering there for a few moments. He filled his lungs with her grave scent before adding, “But it will take a while to believe, gravesinger.”
“How you break my heart, dear one.” As though compelled, she leaned down and pressed a kiss to his lips.
They lingered there together, connected only by a soft, plush touch. But it was everything he needed to fill all the stores of magic in him again. He breathed her in. All that power, just simmering under her skin, built there by a connection that was only growing stronger by the day.
She was more than just a witch, and she had to know that. She was his witch.
When she drew back for a breath, he drank in the dazed expression on her face. He’d seen so many women in the throes of passion or witches who tried to pretend they were. He knew what a liar looked like, and he’d learned to read humans in his many centuries of life.
Jessamine was as truthful as they came. Her blown out pupils and that drunken smile as she stared down at him were genuine.
What was he supposed to do with her? Other than wrap his hand around the back of her neck and draw her down for another kiss?
Her exhale became his inhale. They became linked through breath as he explored the depths of her mouth. He could taste the passion in her kiss. He could feel it as magic sparked between them, another electric zap that made every muscle in his body tense.
Of all the experiences in life, this was what he had missed the most. In that shadow realm, he’d never been able to taste her. He’d never been able to clearly hear the little sighs that caught in the back of her throat as he touched her. He hadn’t felt how soft her hair was, or how vivid her eyes were as he drew back. They were more than just brown. They were dark, haunting orbs he wanted to drown in.
What a beauty he had captured. What a stunning gravesinger to draw into his life. Perhaps there was still a lingering presence of the gods in this world, because certainly he was not the one to have wished her into being.
She drew back, her fingers lingering on his jaw. “What are you thinking?”
“Merely about your beauty.”
“I am hardly the princess I once was,” she replied with a soft laugh. “You should have seen me in the castle.”
“A prim and proper princess meandering about the halls? You must have been waiting for something exciting to happen every day. No, I choose to see you as you are now.” His fingers tangled in the hair at the back of her neck, arching her head away so he could press his lips to the swan-like stretch of her throat. “I like to see you wild and undone, princess.”
That sigh. That soft, lingering sigh she always gave when he kissed her made him feel like a god again.
He reveled in this freedom, this knowledge that he was alive and well and that nothing was going to change that. Even if he had to scrape on his hands and knees to stay this way, he would. He would beg if she needed him to.
Something scratched at the back of his mind. Fingernails trailed down the entirety of his body. He could feel them dragging down his neck, his shoulders, his back. Such a touch should be impossible. Unless…
He sat straight up, nearly cracking their heads together as he realized what it meant.
“Elric?” she asked, shoving her hair out of her face. She stared at him with those big eyes, and for a moment, he was shocked she hadn’t felt it too.
But how could she? Jessamine was a gravesinger, but she had not tied herself to his coven beyond the simple bonds of friendship. She couldn’t sense the presence of another witch unless they were near. She couldn’t know how it felt like a ghost had ripped its talons along his entire soul.
“Elric?” she asked again, this time sounding far more concerned than the first time. “What is it?”
“Another witch,” he murmured. “Someone is worshipping me.”
Fear rippled through his body at the knowledge that another witch had tried to connect with him. His guts twisted, his stomach rolling with nerves, but even those feelings were a marvelous experience. He knew he should be elated at the thought of another witch, but more people in the coven meant more voices who may wish to sacrifice him. A coven of witches was powerful, sometimes too powerful.
The wells of his magic were deep and old, but that did not mean they were endless. Witches who sacrificed in his name gave energy to him. The more people who sacrificed in his name, the stronger he would become. Already he could feel what this newcomer was doing.
This was a determined witch. He stretched out his magic, feeling his way through their world to the woman who sacrificed to him. She had gone off into some field and taken a man’s prized cow. The beast had been the best performer for milk, better than any other in the herd, which made it far more special. Someone had given the animal attention and reverence, so its death meant far more in the grand scheme of magic.
“What is she doing, Elric?” Jessamine asked.
“She’s sacrificing a cow to me,” he muttered, his vision almost gone as he focused on the sensation of what the witch was doing.
“You can feel that?” She reached out to hold his hand as though to help ground him.
“She wants something. They all do.”
But what?
The old words spilled from the stranger’s tongue, and he knew in that moment it wasn’t a woman playing at witchcraft. This wasn’t someone who had stumbled upon a spell book and thought she would try it out. This woman had been taught.
The sacrificial spell had to be spoken in the ancient tongue. Anyone reading those words would have stumbled on them, or pronounced them wrong. But this recitation was nearly perfect. She built a strong spell, one that flowed throughout the realms of the living and the dead to find him.
Whispered words glided through his mind as the witch called out to him for help. “God of the dead, the Deathless One himself, I ask you to cast pity upon a poor worshipper who has long forgotten the old ways. I beg for your forgiveness in my lack of worship for too many years. I have nearly lost the dearest person to me, and I pray that you might fight on my behalf to tear away the darkness that follows her. I beg of you to fight death so that I might have more time with her.”
“She wishes for me to stop someone from dying,” he muttered. “A simple request. I will ignore it.”
“Ignore it?” Jessamine’s hand tightened on his arm. “Elric, this is the first time someone has worshipped you in centuries!”
“Sybil worships me.”
Speaking of the witch, he could already see her sprinting toward them from the house. She had her tattered skirts up above her knees as she ran, her hair nearly tumbling out of the knot at the top of her head.
He watched Sybil struggle to get to their side, remaining seated even when Jessamine stood. His gravesinger cast an unimpressed glance in his direction.
“You’re going to make her run all the way out here?” Jessamine asked.
“Yes.”
“We could meet her at least halfway.”
“She is the one who chose to run to my side, Jessamine.”
“That doesn’t mean you have to sit there like an ass,” she hissed. “Clearly something is wrong.”
He reached out and wrapped a hand around her ankle, pinning her in place when she might have started toward the other woman. “Jessamine, I am a god. I do not rush to anyone’s side but yours. Ease your tone, gravesinger.”
Soon enough, Jessamine would need to come to terms with what it meant to be paired with a god. Their power put them above others, simply because of what they could do. A single word from her, and he would raze the entire world to nothing but brimstone and ash. She was no longer a normal woman.
But then again, she never had been. He wondered how her mother had taught her that being a princess was not the same as being a woman. Perhaps he would need to seek out that particular memory within her soul and learn how to handle this wild woman.
Sybil finally reached them, panting, her eyes wild as she stared at him. “Did you feel it?” she asked, sounding frantic. “Tell me you felt it as well.”
“I felt it.”
Jessamine looked between the two of them. “You can both feel it when someone is making a sacrifice?”
“It’s more than that,” he replied, leaning back on his palms and tilting his head to the sun. “A witch sacrificing to me makes ripples throughout the entire coven. She dedicates her magic to me, and therefore sisterhood, when she does so. Which means not only can I feel it, but so can the rest of the coven. In this case, Sybil.”
“Another witch is sacrificing to you, Deathless One,” Sybil interrupted.
He could hear the reverence with which she said the words. But they only made him feel an icy tendril of fear, the ghost that walked with him through every step of his life. Witches always wanted to build their family. They wanted more women and more witches and a larger coven. They wanted a bigger house and more power, magic that streamed through them all until they had more than they could use in a lifetime.
They wanted all of that and more. Because witches always wanted.
They devoured the world and even then, it wasn’t enough. Power was addictive, but so was the knowledge that they could protect themselves. He’d always known where their desire came from, just as he knew he was the only one who could satiate it.
Soon enough, they would pick apart his bones and suck them clean for one last drop of magic.
“Elric?” Jessamine said, and he was drawn back into the present. The two women stared at him as though he was supposed to answer a question he hadn’t heard them ask.
Pushing aside the anxiety, he focused on them instead of the churning memories inside of him. “What did you say?”
“Are we going to help her?” Sybil asked, presumably again.
He stared at his gravesinger, knowing what her answer would be. Jessamine had been through much, but there was still a girl inside of her who wanted a family. She desperately needed connection, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t sting.
For him, she was enough. He could end the world now and spend the rest of his immortal life with just her, and that would be a life he was pleased with.
But his Jessamine needed more than just that. So he was bound to provide it.
Sighing, he stood and savored the ache of his knees and the bite of a small pebble digging into the back of his thigh. Life wasn’t all about pleasure, and he would forever savor the slight sting of pain while he could still feel it.
The silhouette of their manor mocked him, an empty tomb that once had been filled with laughing witches and spells that had affected the entire kingdom. Now only the ghosts of those women wandered through those halls. His only solace was that those women were tethered to the muck and the mire of the same realm where they had imprisoned him.
“Come,” he said gruffly as he started toward the manor. “I will not speak of this where just anyone can hear our words.”
He could feel the looping of chains around his shoulders, digging into his flesh as the woman finished her sacrifice and the cow’s blood spilled in a field far from here. He was bound to witches. Elric had spent centuries serving them, feeding upon their sacrifices so they could gorge themselves on his magic. It felt like he was taking another step toward that same dangerous future.
Living in the same cycle he’d never been able to break.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
 
 

Book Info:

Princess Jessamine and Elric’s story continues after she has brought him back to full physical form in this second book in a romantasy trilogy from USA TODAY bestselling author Emma Hamm, perfect for fans of Sarah J. Maas.

She won the heart of Death…now she must fight for the hearts of her people.

Jessamine never expected to be on the Deathless One’s side—let alone be in love with him. But now that Elric has returned to his corporeal form and Jessamine has joined the coven of witches that sustain his power, the two are stronger than ever.

But the kingdom is still in turmoil. Jessamine and Elric must prepare their coven of witches to meet the kingdom’s forces in battle—before the man who’s usurped her throne learns how to harness the power of Elric’s fellow gods. How can Jessamine accept that to fight for her kingdom, she might have to fight against it?
Book Links: Book Links: Amazon | B&N | iTunes | kobo | Google |
 
 

Meet the Author:

Emma Hamm grew up in a small town surrounded by trees and animals. She writes strong, confident, powerful women who aren’t afraid to grow and make mistakes. Her books will always be a little bit feminist, and are geared towards empowering both men and women to be comfortable in their own skin. The USA TODAY bestselling Gravesinger series is her trade debut.
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