Transcending Fire is here! #NewRelease #MCRomance #Futuristic #Erotic at @evernightpub

Hello! It’s here! My story Transcending Fire is available. Now I get to share this erotic, futuristic, dystopian story based around different motorcycle gangs with you!
A man dealing with an Earth in chaos. A woman from an alternate universe hoping to find her destiny. Two motorcycle gangs and a real bad ass who wants to ruin everything. What’s not to like?

And look at this lovely cover! Isn’t it beautiful? Cover Artist, Jay Aheer, is fab!

~ Blurb ~

* Hunter Macario wants one thing—a place to belong. When given an opportunity to solidify his position in the motorcycle club, Devil’s Thunder, he takes it.
* Dragon’s Clan member, Safaia King, believes she’s found the man from her people’s legend and her dreams. She has one goal, even if he’s in a rival club—to make Hunter hers and keep him safe so he can fulfill their destiny.
* After Hunter makes a huge mistake, he’s sent to where Safaia lives—an alternate universe called The Den. In this new world, sex, battles, and secrets abound. Hunter must survive The Den to right some wrongs or else he could lose everything he’s ever gained, including his home and Safaia’s love.

~ Adult Rated Excerpt ~

* A wicked glint lit her eyes, and a playful grin spread across her face. She smoothed a hand down his hard chest. “I love the definition of your muscles, Hunter, how they shudder beneath my fingers when I touch you.” Inch by inch, she continued sliding her hand down his torso. She moved her hand between his skivvies and skin. Saf circled his cock and stroked him in time with the motions of his fingers within her. Desire pulsed through his body, setting it aflame. She pressed her face against his chest and playfully bit his pectoral as she rode his hand.
* Adrenaline and arousal increased his breathing rate, and a warm buzz raced through him. The pull between them seemed so intense, undeniable, as if they had to be together or perish. He felt like one of the club’s customers addicted to black chip and needing a fix before he went crazy with want. And his drug of choice?
* Safaia. Always and forever Safaia.
* He wanted to eat her up. “I want to taste you. Lick up your juices and have you squirm beneath my face.” Hunter yanked down her jeans and repositioned her until her ass was at the edge of the boulder.
* Sinking to his knees, he placed himself between her legs. Looking forward to tasting her sweetness and feel her softness after facing the harsh realities of his life, he traced a line of gentle kisses along her inner thigh from her knee to her pussy and then fastened his mouth on the sensitive folds between her legs. When he dipped his tongue into her canal, she shifted her butt to allow him better access. He reached up and snaked his rough hands under her shirt, concerned only for a moment whether she enjoyed or loathed the coarse touch of his dry, work-worn skin. She moved the cloth and her bra out of the way.
* Seems she doesn’t mind.
* Pushing away all his thoughts and focusing on her—his carnal treasure—Hunter kneaded her tits while he teased her clit. He loved the taste and scent of her musky flesh and lapped up her essence as he said he would.
* She grasped his head, weaving her fingers in his hair. “Oh, great Universe. This is. This is.” She panted and grappled with his locks as a low, deep moan rolled from her throat. “I think I’m going to come.”
* The first night they’d met, their lovemaking had been hot and fast, more wham bam thank you than let’s linger and relish this. This time, though, he wanted to savor her, make her feel all sorts of naughty pleasure as he took his own.
* Saf bucked and tried to scooch away, but he grabbed her hips and kept her from moving away from him. Unrelenting, he tongue fucked her. She struggled and wriggled, but he continued his assault, plunging his tongue in and out of her, licking up her wetness, and nipping at her clit. Safaia pressed the back of his head and lifted her ass. Spasms racked her body. She cried out his name.
* Bringing her to orgasm thrilled him, but his selfish streak came forward. He wanted to enjoy her and feel his own pleasure, so he rose, stepped back, and removed his jeans.

Buy Transcending Fire here…
Evernight Publishing has all the formats you’re looking for!

Thank you, dear reader, for taking a couple minutes to read up on my story. Use the buy links above to purchase a copy, and after you’ve read it, don’t forget to leave a review! We authors really appreciate them. 🙂

a look at ‘Seduced by Him’ by Jacey Holbrand #Gay #MCRomance @JaceyHolbrand @evernightpub

Hey folks! I’m happy to announce that I have another story out! It’s called Seduced by Him and is the second book in my series: Helldorado Mongrels MC. But first a little about me…

~ * ~ BIO ~ * ~

Jacey Holbrand believes life and love comes in all forms and should be celebrated. She’s committed to her muse and writing so she can share her stories with readers. Hot days. Sexy nights. Come play in her world.

Jacey loves to hear from readers! Click the link to eMail her: JaceyHolbrand@gmail.com

~ * ~ STALK ~ * ~

Website/Blog ## Twitter ## Facebook ## Facebook Page

~ * ~ ABOUT THE BOOK ~ * ~

This story is the second book in my series called Helldorado Mongrels MC. The series follows different immortal shifter families, a couple of humans, and the quest for stolen gold. It takes place in southern Nevada. I’d been toying with the idea for this series for the past few years after catching an episode of Haunted Highway on Syfy regarding the Hellhounds of Eldorado Canyon.

In book two, Seduced by Him, two human brothers are at the end of their camping trip in the canyon where, as teenagers, they had a frightening experience in a gold mine when confronted with wolves. Jarrod Russell, one of the heroes of this story, is jealous his brother found love, and he wonders when he’ll find his other half. Which doesn’t take long since he runs into him in a store and then in a casino.

Jarrod and Tex, the sexy stranger (who is based off of Brock O’Hurn in case you were wondering 😉 ) he keeps running into, have a one night stand that’s turning into something more when Jarrod is kidnapped by Tex’s fellow Helldorado Mongrels MC members.

Want to know what happens when Jarrod finds out the guy he’s super attracted to is an immortal wolf shifter and if he escapes the Mongrels? Well, you’ll just have to read the book now, won’t you? *wink*

~ * ~ BLURB ~ * ~

Wolf shifter and member of the Helldorado Mongrels MC, Dante “Tex” Valentin is restless and dissatisfied. He goes on a ride in search of excitement, never expecting to encounter his mate—a human male, who disrupts his world.

Jarrod Russell is envious his brother, Cameron, found love. Wondering if fortune will ever smile on him the same way, he runs into a man who rocks his world. A man he believes could be the love of his life.

When Jarrod and Tex’s paths cross again, a passion-filled night connects them. Because of who they are, though, they’re in danger from the Mongrels. Will their relationship be over before they even have a chance to love?

Be Warned: m/m sex, anal sex, language, violence

~ * ~ PG-13 EXCERPT ~ * ~

The crowd’s excitement grated on Tex. Didn’t these people feel anything for a fallen comrade? Especially those related to the deceased? How could Preach be happy about a death of a family member?

Two short and quick horn blasts signaled everyone’s dismissal.

Tex turned to head back to the clubhouse and grab a beer. The fight hadn’t perked up his mood. He had to do something to shake his disquiet.

Maybe I’ll go hold up a store.

Thumbs hurried to his side. “You sure you fine? You don’t seem fine. You know if you fight you never die. You not related to anyone here.”

“That’s true,” Tex replied. He hadn’t been a miner’s dog or a feral one. He wasn’t a Shinan wolf. He was from a Nagul shifter line and had traveled to Nevada, back in the gold and silver rush days, to find his fortune. He’d just happened to have been in wrong place at wrong time and got cursed with the rest of the poor animal souls in the area. Yet like Thumbs reminded him, it was a good thing. No one here could murder him since only immortals of the same breed could kill each other. Like Kane and Preach both being from the Shinan bloodline.

Unless, of course, it was Tabu wolf against Shinan wolf. They could do each other in without blinking.

Maybe that was it. He missed having family nearby, actual family, not brothers made so because of some club. Perhaps it was time to escape the ’pound and return to Texas.

That didn’t feel right either, though. He hadn’t given his family much thought in over a century. Why would he care now?

Besides, like it or not, the moment that crazy renegade Native American, Queho, had uttered his spell, Tex had become a member of the El Dorado canyon pack, and even though the gang drove him nuts sometimes, he wouldn’t give them up for the world. The thought of losing connection to a group again, family or not, distressed him.

He shook his head. “I assure you, Thumbs, I’m good. Just something in the air bothering me.”

“Must have allergies. Come to garage. You help me with bikes. Air in there stinky. You’ll feel better.”

Tex followed Thumbs, thinking that tinkering on some engines couldn’t hurt and might even help get his mind off his uneasiness about what he’d been scenting on the breeze. Plus, it’d keep him out of trouble, like robbing a store.

The fragrance, reminding him of home cooked meals, brought up memories of happy times filled with laughter and love in the house with his mother and grandmother and other family members.

He’d always heard stories about wolf shifters discovering their mates due to scents they enjoy, but he didn’t believe he’d ever experience the phenomenon.

And the fact that he’d picked up on his mate?

It made his inner animal stir with sexual desire again.

Maybe his life was about to get interesting after all.

~ * ~ BUY ~ * ~

Evernight Publishing ## Amazon ## Apple ## Barnes & Noble ## BookStrand ## Kobo ## Smashwords

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Thank you for having me on your blog, and readers, thank you for stopping by today!

Love & blessings to all! ❤
Jacey

a look at ‘Devil’s Run’ by Beverley Oakley #Historical #Romance @BeverleyOakley @ReviewByCrystal

Devil’s Run 
Scandalous Miss Brightwells series
By Beverley Oakley


Beverley is giving away a $10 Amazon Gift Certificate to a randomly drawn winner via rafflecopter during the tour. Please use the RaffleCopter below to enter. Remember you may increase your chances of winning by visiting the other tour stops. You may find those locations here

BLURB: 
A rigged horserace and a marriage offer riding on the outcome. When Miss Eliza Montrose unexpectedly becomes legal owner of the horse tipped to win the East Anglia Cup, her future is finally in her hands – but at what cost?

George Bramley, nephew to the Earl of Quamby, will wager anything. Even his future bride.

Miss Eliza Montrose will accept any wager to be reunited with the child she was forced to relinquish after an indiscretion — even if it means marrying a man she does not love.

But with her heart suddenly engaged by handsome, charming Rufus Patmore who has just bought a horse from her betrothed George Bramley in whose household her son lives as a pauper child, the outcome of the wager is suddenly fraught with peril.

**This is book 3 in the Scandalous Miss Brightwells series, though it can be read as a stand-alone.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Excerpt: 

Chapter One
“And there’s nothing else you’d like, my dear? No?” Straightening after receiving a polite rebuff, George Bramley found it an effort to keep the syrup in his tone. His bride-to-be had not even looked at him as she’d declined the piece of marchpane he’d been certain would win him at least a smile.
Hovering at her side, he weighed up the advantages of a gentle rebuke, then decided against it. Until yesterday, he’d thought her quiet demeanour suggested a charmingly pliant nature. Now he was not so sure. In fact, suddenly, he was not sure of anything.
“A glass of lemonade, perhaps, my angel? Or a gentle stroll?”
“I would prefer to be left alone.” Miss Montrose waved a languid hand in his general direction, while she continued to gaze at the still lake beside which their picnic party had situated itself.
The languid arm-wave had not even been accompanied by a demure thank you as subtle acknowledgement of her gratitude that not only had Mr Bramley, heir to a viscountcy, stepped in to rescue Miss Eliza Montrose from impoverishment, he was prepared to treat her publicly as if she were as fine a catch as he could have made.
A soft titter brought his head round sharply, but the ladies behind him, bent over the latest Ackerman’s Repository, appeared occupied with their own gossip as they lounged on cushions beneath the canopy that had been erected to protect them from the sun.
Awkwardly, he looked for occupation as he continued to eye his intended with a mixture of irritation and desire—both lustful desire, and the desire to put her in her place.
The idea of the latter made him harden. She was beautiful, this quiet, apparently retiring, young woman who said so little, but whose eyes spoke such volumes. The afternoon sun glinted on her honey-gold hair and imbued her porcelain skin with a warm glow. The skin that he could see, at any rate.
He pushed back his shoulders. On their wedding night in six weeks, when he’d at last take possession of her, he’d rip that modesty to shreds. The skin she was so at pains to hide would be his, not only to see, but to caress and taste. When she was his wife, the beautiful, distant Miss Eliza Montrose would no longer get away with paying George Bramley so little attention. No, he’d have her screaming and writhing at his command. He would make her like the things he did to her; or at least, show him she did if she enjoyed harmony as much as she appeared to. None of this languid reclining like a half-drugged princess in his presence. He’d keep her on her toes, ready to leap to his bidding at the sound of his footstep. She’d learn to be grateful.
Feeling ignored and superfluous, he turned to his uncle’s detestable wife, Lady Quamby, and said with a smile, “Perhaps you and Miss Montrose would like to accompany me to the turret. Since you appear to have enjoyed this new novel, Northanger Abbey, so much, you might be interested to know there is an excellent view of the ruined monastery not far from here.”
He was just priding himself on being so attuned to the feminine inclination for pleasure, when Lady Quamby half turned and sent him a desultory smile. “Oh, I think Miss Eliza looks perfectly comfortable, and Fanny and I are having such a lovely little coze.” As if imitating Miss Montrose, she waved a languid hand in his general direction. “Why don’t you take Mr Patmore off to see it? The two of you can tell us all about it when you return.”
The fact that Miss Montrose didn’t deign to even speak for herself, much less glance in his direction, sent the blood surging to Bramley’s brain. By God, when he was married to Eliza Montrose, the limpid look of love so lacking now would be pasted onto her face every time he crossed her line of vision. She’d soon learn what was good for her.
He inclined his head, hiding his fury, and was on the point of leaving when Lady Quamby’s sister, Fanny —for he’d be damned if he’d accord the little strumpet the title of Lady Fenton—leapt up from her chair. She’d been poring over the latest fashions, but now she smiled brightly up at him.
“I’ll come with you, Cousin George. We’ll have an excellent view of the  children learning to row from the battlements. I told Nanny Brown she could take them in the two boats if they’d been good.”
Bramley stared down her liveliness. In fact, he was about to give up the idea of going up to the battlements altogether when his other guest, Rufus Patmore, suddenly rose and joined Fanny’s side with a late and unexpected show of enthusiasm.
“Capital idea!” declared Rufus.
George flashed them both a dispassionate look. He’d chosen to invite his betrothed, Miss Montrose—whose chaperone was currently tucked up in the green bed chamber nursing a head cold—to be his guest at his uncle’s estate, Quamby House, after receiving intelligence that Ladies Quamby and Fenton would be safely in London with their husbands and children. Instead, the brazen Brightwell sisters—as they’d infamously been called when he’d first made their acquaintance—had altered their plans, and were now in dogged attendance, reminding him as they always had, of some awful tenacious climbing plant, determined to find a foothold wherever they could in order to rise in the world.
Rufus, a last-minute addition and acquaintance from his club, Boodles, was here because he’d just purchased a horse from Bramley the night before. Now, Rufus was gazing at Lady Fenton, with the same dewy-eyed fondness George was used to seeing reflected in the eye of his uncle, the Earl of Quamby, who called the Brightwell sisters his precious rose-buds. To George, they were common dandelions! And now they had overridden Quamby House, the rambling Queen Anne manor house and estate that would have passed to George the moment his uncle quit this mortal coil, were it not for the snotty-nosed infant Lady Quamby had borne far too early in her marriage to George’s uncle.
George shook his head. He’d changed his mind. Only, there was Rufus striding across the lawn, skirting the lake with Fanny at his side, and George didn’t want to be seen as petulant for having offered the suggestion in the first place. Or have his snubbed and ignored status so much on parade, since the two remaining ladies—Miss Montrose and Lady Quamby—had their heads bent together in deep discussion, with no apparent interest in seeking his company.
By God, he thought, clenching his fists as he set off after them at a brisk trot, they’d all rue the day they showed George Bramley so little respect.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Author Info: 

Beverley Oakley was seventeen when she bundled up her first her 500+ page romance and sent it to a publisher. Unfortunately drowning her heroine on the last page was apparently not in line with the expectations of romance readers so Beverley became a journalist.
Twenty-six years later Beverley was delighted to receive her first publishing contract from Robert Hale (UK) for a romance in which she ensured her heroine was saved from drowning in the icy North Sea.
Since 2009 Beverley has written more than thirteen historical romances, mostly set in England during the early nineteenth century. Mystery, intrigue and adventure spill from their pages and if she can pull off a thrilling race to save someone’s honour – or a worthy damsel from the noose – it’s time to celebrate with a good single malt Scotch.
Beverley lives with her husband, two daughters and a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy the size of a pony opposite a picturesque nineteenth century lunatic asylum. She also writes Africa-set adventure-filled romances tarring handsome bush pilot heroes, and historical romances with less steam and more sexual tension, as Beverley Eikli.
You can get in contact with Beverley at: