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RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Yours, Everlasting

Author: Beth
Bolden

Cover Artist: Sleepy Fox
Studio

Release Date: April 6,
2022

Genre: Fantasy MM Romance

Tropes: Opposites attract, road trip romance, secret
admirer

Themes: Good versus evil, staying true to one’s self,
redemption

Length: 92 000
words

Heat Rating: 4 flames

It is not a standalone story. It
is book 2 in the Enchanted Folklore series and does
not end on a cliffhanger.

Goodreads

Buy Links – Available on Kindle
Unlimited

Universal Link | Amazon US | Amazon UK

Blurb

Evrard . . .Rhys . . .Evander . . .

Evander has gone by many names in the last thousand
years. He’s lived almost as many lives, using his immortality and his unique shapeshifting
abilities to become anyone and anything. His goal was simple: to eradicate
the malevolent magic threatening all humankind.

After finally succeeding, Evander feels he’s earned a
justifiable and peaceful retirement. But the past never stays buried, and he discovers that
it’s been watching him . . .

Marcos, the Guardian of War, has waited, he’s observed,
he’s admired, and he’s yearned. But now it’s time for him to step into the light and let
Evander see him for who he truly is.

But fate is fickle, destinies aren’t set in stone, and as much
as Marcos hopes Evander might be his, it will be the fight of his life to not only win Evander’s
heart, but to defeat the evil that once again raises its sinister head.

Excerpt

Marcos knew he would not tire easily, but Rhys—Evander, that was Evander
under that unassuming exterior, a marvel that would never fail to astonish
him—undoubtedly would.

After watching him for hundreds of years, both keeping near to him, and also keeping his
distance, Marcos was still not sure how reduced his power was.

Marcos knew he’d retained some of the magic he’d possessed before, but unlike when he’d
been the Guardian of Secrets, now, he was clearly more particular about how and when he
used it.

“We should stop for a rest,” Marcos said, after they’d been walking all night and partway
into the day, almost without pause.

They’d stopped once, to fill their waterskins at a cold, bubbling stream. They’d long since left
Beaulieu behind, and they had not even passed through a single village. Out of choice,
Marcos had assumed, but it still surprised him that Evander kept to the disguise of Rhys.

Surely now that Marcos had revealed himself, Evander would let the shape of unassuming,
gruff Rhys melt away until he finally was himself again.

Except not once, as far as Marcos knew, had Evander taken his normal shape since he’d been
banished.

But now, now that he was with Marcos again, surely the subterfuge was unnecessary.

Rhys glared at him. Even after all these hundreds of years, watching Evander be someone
else, he was not used to seeing Evander stare out at him through someone else’s face. “Do
you need to stop?” he asked.

“No, of course I do not,” Marcos said. “I am a Guardian, I could walk all the way up the
North Mountain without stopping. But . . .”

“But I am no longer a Guardian,” Rhys interrupted him. “Your point is clear.”

But even if it was clear, Rhys was obviously annoyed that Marcos had brought it up.

He doesn’t trust you, he thinks you’re to blame, which isn’t all that surprising, and now
he thinks you’re patronizing him.

It was not the most auspicious beginning, but Marcos still held out hope that maybe they
could forge a partnership, even after all this time had passed.

He just had to stop himself from saying the wrong thing and angering
Evander—he is Rhys, Marcos reminded himself—even more.

So far, he had not managed even that.

Rhys stopped when the sun reached its zenith in the sky, finding a shady grouping of trees,
with a large fallen log they could rest next to.

“Is this sufficient?” There was still a bite to Rhys’ words.

“Perfectly sufficient,” Marcos said, taking care to make sure there was no additional
inflection to his words that would anger Rhys further. He certainly was not going to be
stupid enough to remind the ex-Guardian that he did not need to rest at all.

Rhys settled down against the log. He looked tired. Perhaps if he changed forms, back to
Evander, he might find additional strength. Maintaining a different form could be a strain on
his power reserves.

Marcos would have suggested it but the silence that had fallen between them, and Rhys’
defensiveness every time he made even the simplest suggestion, kept him quiet.

He waited until Rhys closed his eyes, and then shut his own, sure that Rhys, who was
obviously exhausted, would fall asleep quickly.

But a moment later, Rhys spoke up. “You did not mean to reveal yourself to me.”

Marcos had never been as accomplished a liar as Evander had been. He’d never needed to
be. Fighting was often straightforward, with little need for deception, and he’d never gotten
into the practice of telling falsehoods well.

He could lie, but it was unlikely Rhys would believe him, and the chances of

Rhys being even angrier at the lie were considerable.

“No,” he said carefully. “No, I did not mean to reveal myself.”

Rhys looked like Rhys, and not anything like Evander, not like . . . not like the Guardian he’d
known for so many years . . . but Marcos’ heart beat faster anyway when he opened his eyes
and Rhys was staring at him—like he was trying to figure Marcos out, still.

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