New to the Dixie Reapers MC? Check out Venom & Torch! #bikerbooks #MCromance #NewAdult #MayDecember @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Venom/Torch Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Box Sets 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Venom (Dixie Reapers MC 1)

Ridley: My daddy was a biker, and I was definitely Daddy’s girl. When I found out my stepdad had something horrible planned for me, I ran. Straight to the Dixie Reapers. But it wasn’t my daddy’s arms I ended up in. Venom makes me feel safe, and his kisses make me ache for so much more. I want him — all of him — and damn the consequences.

Venom: I hadn’t risen to the rank of VP of the Dixie Reapers MC without getting my hands dirty. I’d been deep in blood and dirty money for over twenty years. But when an angel I hadn’t seen in fourteen years came back into my life, all it took was one look and I was a goner. Now she’s mine, and I’ll do anything to keep her, even if it means starting a war.

Torch (Dixie Reapers MC 2)

Isabella: I was seventeen when my daddy gave me to Torch. He inked me, then watched me walk away. Now I’m back, ready to face whatever fate awaits me. It never occurred to me he’d kiss me so deeply, so passionately I’d be begging for more. He’ll be my first, my last, my only… because I’m his, and he’s never going to let me forget it.

Torch: I’ve kept my distance, watching over the girl I claimed as my own. I know it’s only a matter of time before she comes home. There may be thirty years between us, but fuck if I care what people think. She’s mine, and I’m going take her any way I can, as often as I can, and when I’m done, she’ll never again think of walking out the door. Because she’s done the impossible… she’s claimed the heart of a man who didn’t think he had one. No one’s going to come between us, especially not the man who gave his daughter to me — not even if he has the entire cartel army on his ass.

 

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Copyright ©2018 Harley Wylde

Excerpt from Venom (Dixie Reapers MC 1)

My heart thundered in my chest as I locked myself in the bathroom off the foyer. The air duct over my head had always carried sounds from the dining room, and I listened in horror as my stepdad and Mr. Montoya discussed me like I was cattle.

“She’ll do,” Mr. Montoya said. “I’ll have fun breaking her in. Once she’s been properly trained, I’m sure she’ll fetch top dollar.”

My stomach pitched, and I nearly threw up.

“Of course, I’d prefer to see all the merchandise before paying our agreed upon price,” Mr. Montoya said. “After dinner, I’ll see exactly what I’m paying for and maybe take her for a test drive.”

“Whatever you need,” my mom said. “This deal is very important to us.”

Holy shit! My own mother was selling me? Shit like this just didn’t happen. Not to girls like me. Yeah, sure, you heard on the news about women being sold overseas to brothels, but to have it brought to own my front door… My hand shook as I slowly turned the knob and let myself out of the bathroom. I removed my heels so I wouldn’t make a sound.

Marta, the housekeeper we’d had since I first moved here, was quietly standing near the front door. Out of sight of the dining room. With a quick glance toward the door that led to where my fate awaited, I dashed to Marta’s side. She handed me my purse and car keys.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “Go straight to your father.”

“Marta, I…”

She shushed me and gave me a tight hug. “I love you like you were my own. I won’t stand by and let this happen to you. Now go, before they realize you’re not coming back.”

“Thank you,” I said fervently, then soundlessly opened the front door and made my escape.

My car, a Mercedes Richard and Mom had bought on my sixteenth birthday, was parked around the side of the house. The engine was quiet, and if I kept my headlights off, no one would even know I was leaving. I slipped behind the wheel and tossed my purse and shoes on the passenger seat. Fastening my seatbelt, I shut the door as softly as I could and started the engine.

The car crept around the fountain and down the driveway. The gate remained open from when Mr. Montoya had arrived, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Once my tires touched the road, I flicked on my headlights and headed for the highway. It was a long-ass drive to Alabama, but except for gas, I wasn’t fucking stopping until I saw my daddy. Mom might have done her best to separate us, but I would always be Daddy’s little girl.

When I’d been on the road for hours, my stomach began to cramp from hunger and my car was almost on empty. I pulled into a small town somewhere in North Florida. After filling my tank, I left the car parked at the gas station and walked across the street to a diner. But what I saw when I stepped through the doors froze me in my tracks. My face was plastered across the TV with a ticker running underneath. Ridley Johnson is reported as being unstable. If seen, contact the police immediately.

I tried to pull my hair forward as much as possible to hide my face and claimed a spot at the back of the diner, where the lighting wasn’t so great. My hands fumbled with my purse, and I quietly counted what was left of my cash. I’d seen enough crime shows to know my credit cards could be traced, so I’d paid cash at the gas station and I’d pay cash for my meal. An older waitress came over, looking dead on her feet.

“What can I get you, doll?”

“A burger and fries with a sweet tea.”

She nodded and scribbled my order down, not even looking at my face once. As she moved away to place my order with the kitchen, some of the tension eased from my shoulders. The place was nearly empty, but I had a close call when a sheriff’s deputy stepped inside. I sat frozen, scared to even breathe, until he picked up his to-go order and went back out to his cruiser.

My meal arrived a few minutes later, and I ate quickly, leaving enough money on the table to cover the bill and a tip. Gathering my purse, I headed back to my car, every nerve in my body on alert for any kind of trouble. I hit the road again and didn’t stop until I’d cleared the panhandle.

The town was shabby, the sidewalks cracked, and the buildings crumbling. I stuck out like a sore thumb, but it was time to change. I stopped to top off my tank at a gas station that was well lit, just in case I got stuck with the car a while longer, and grabbed my backpack from the trunk. In case my family had gotten nosy, I’d hidden it in the spare tire compartment, which meant if I had a flat I was shit out of luck because both the tire and my bag and boots hadn’t fit.

After filling up the car, I stepped into the grimy bathroom and stripped out of my dress and heels. I washed my face in the sink with the harsh soap provided in the dispenser and blotted it dry with the stiffest damn paper towels I’d ever touched. Pulling an elastic from my bag, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, the long curling mass falling down the center of my back. After I had shimmied into a pair of tight, ripped jeans and put on a black tee with teal swirls and white skulls across the front, I slipped on some socks and the biker boots I’d picked up at a Harley Davidson store.

A smile flashed across my face as I studied my reflection in the cracked mirror. Aside from the golden curls, I didn’t even look like Ridley Johnson anymore. At least, not the Ridley Johnson Mom had molded me to be. I hated that girl and never wanted to be her again. I stuffed my dress and heels in the trash, picked up my bag, and went back out to my car. The guy behind the counter didn’t even look up from his magazine.

Now I just had one more problem. The damn car. There was no way my stepdad had put out that bulletin on me without also telling the cops what I was driving. It was a fucking miracle no one had pulled me over yet. I knew what I was about to do was risky as hell, but so was driving around in this damn Mercedes for another minute.

I’d hung around my dad long enough to know what I was searching for. Our visits might have been few, but he’d always made them count. Mom thought we were taking drives to the park or the beach, but he’d been teaching me about his way of life, and introducing me to some people she wouldn’t have approved of.

I pulled up to a garage on a darkened street corner. A light inside told me someone was around, even if the place wasn’t officially open. My palms were sweating again but I blew out a breath and braced myself. It was time to put the socialite behind me and be every inch my father’s daughter. I pulled the keys from the ignition and boldly walked inside.

“You can’t be here, bitch,” a voice said harshly from deep inside.

“I need to make a trade,” I said.

A man with a leather cut strolled out of the garage, the lighting just good enough that I could read Devil’s Boneyard MC — V.P. — Scratch.

I had no fucking clue if it was a rival club of Dixie Reapers or not and knew I needed to tread carefully. We studied one another, his gaze taking me in from head to toe. Not in an I want to fuck her kind of way, more like he was assessing if I was a threat.

“I have a problem,” I said. “I have a hot car and need someone to take it off my hands. All I need in return is something that will run well enough for me to get a few states away.”

Scratch rubbed his jaw and looked beyond me to the silver Mercedes.

“If you change out the VIN or strip it for parts, you can make a decent amount off it,” I said. “I don’t care what piece of shit you give me in return as long as it gets me where I’m going. I need reliable, not flashy.”

He took in my appearance again. “You know how to ride?”

His question momentarily startled me. “Ride?”

He tipped his head and sauntered back inside the garage. Against my better judgment, I followed. There was an older motorcycle sitting off to the side. The pewter gray tank and fenders had seen better days, but as I circled the bike I saw that it was in pretty decent condition. The Harley emblem, though tarnished, was a welcome surprise. I wasn’t a bike expert by any means, even though Dad had tried, but I thought it was a Harley Soft Tail, which meant it would be light enough for a woman like me to handle. Unlike the big monster my dad rode.

“How well does it run?” I asked.

Scratch walked over to a wall and pulled down a key, tossing it to me. I snatched it midair and straddled the bike. The key turned in the ignition easily enough and I twisted the throttle. The engine rumbled, and a smile spread across my face. God, I’d fucking missed that sound. The thrum of the bike between my legs made me feel like I was coming home. Dad had taught me to ride when I was fourteen, and he’d rented a bike for me every time he’d visited after that, even if I hadn’t been exactly been legal to drive the first few years.

“Even trade?” I asked.

The gaze Scratch gave me said he saw more than I liked, but he nodded.

“I just need to get my stuff from the Mercedes. It’s unlocked,” I said, handing him the car keys.

When I returned with my backpack strapped to me, my purse stuffed inside, he held out some papers to me. I glanced at them and saw it was everything I’d need to make the bike legal when I got to where I was going.

“I don’t know who you belong to, baby girl, or what you’re running from, but you don’t fucking stop until you reach your man.”

“You know who I am,” I said softly.

“Picture’s been all over the news tonight, statewide from what I hear. You don’t appear all that unstable to me, but that family you’re leaving… they’re bad news. Richard Benton III is not a nice man.”

“You know my stepdad?” I asked without thinking.

“Know of him. My crew won’t have anything to do with the shit he’s mixed up in.”

I straddled the bike again and nodded.

“Who taught you to ride? Socialites like you don’t know shit about bikes.”

“I’m not a socialite. I’m a biker’s daughter.” And that was as much as I was going to tell him.

 

Get more from Harley at Changeling Press…

Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Website: harleywylde.com

 

✯✯Pre-Order✯✯ SPIDER (Hades Abyss MC) by Harley Wylde #bikerbooks #MCromance #MayDecember #interracial #olderhero #preorder

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Luciana — All I’ve known is pain and suffering at the hands of men — even from my father, a man who was supposed to love and protect me. I’ve survived, nothing less and nothing more. When I’m dropped off with a club of bikers, I figure it’s more of the same. I’ll do as I’m told, make sure I please them, and hope one day I’ll find a way to escape. There is only one thing that could ever break me, and I’m scared of what will happen when the club learns my secret. Will they return me to my father? Or will I be used to broker yet another deal?

It never occurred to me the President of Hades Abyss would be my salvation, or that I would fall in love with him. I never knew men could be honorable and kind. He’s all gruff and domineering, but under that rough exterior I can see the heart of gold he tries to hide.

Spider — Assassin Casper VanHorne, Picasso of wet work and pain in my ass, has asked my club to take in two Colombian princesses. Well, he didn’t use the term princesses, but I have no doubt they’ll be spoiled little bitches. The first time I see Luciana and her sister, I think I’ve got them pegged just right — until I look in Luciana’s eyes and see the fear she’s trying to hide. Something isn’t right. I know it deep in my gut.

I never once thought a woman nearly forty years younger than me could ever captivate me, but the more I get to know her, the more Luciana holds me spellbound. I didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t want a woman in my life… but sometimes the Fates know better than a mere mortal man, and Luciana is exactly what I need. When her father demands her return, I vow to keep her safe. No fucking way I’ll let the sick bastards who hurt her get their hands on her again. Now that she’s mine, I’ll march into hell if need be in order to keep her by my side.

WARNING: This book contains bad language, graphic sex, violence, a heroine who has been physically and sexually abused, and an alpha male who will get vengeance at any cost.

 

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Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Spider

“They say anything on the way here?” I asked.

“No. The younger one cried a lot. I’ve never questioned the club, or you, Pres, but this doesn’t feel right.”

“Something is strange with this deal for sure, but I don’t know what just yet. In the meantime, treat the girls like guests. Not like club whores. Spread the word to the other Prospects too. These two aren’t a damn thing like what I’d expected.”

He gave a quick nod, then rushed over to the SUV. Rocket led the way, and I sighed as I looked at my house. It had been a nice quiet sanctuary, and now there was a woman inside. A stranger. A girl I’d thought would be entitled and spoiled, but who seemed more scared than anything else. It made me wonder exactly what their father had told them. Or Casper for that matter. Did they have any idea why they were here?

I made my way inside and went straight to the kitchen. I shook my head as I looked at the damn fancy coffeemaker Laken had insisted on giving me this past Christmas. It had taken me weeks to figure the fucking thing out. If I hadn’t been worried about hurting her feelings, I’d have stashed it and just used my simple one with an on/off switch. Who needed all the bells and whistles on a coffeemaker? AlthoughI had to admit being able to set a timer was nice when I had a set schedule in the morning. I liked walking downstairs to a fresh pot of coffee.

I brewed a pot, then sat at the table to enjoy it. I had a feeling I might need something a lot stronger if I was going to tackle the issue of Luciana and Violeta. Had the third girl arrived at the Dixie Reapers’ compound yet? I wondered what Torch thought of all this. I could call and ask, or I could wait for Luciana and ask her myself what the fuck was going on. As fearful as Violeta seemed, and given her odd comment, it made me think things were about to go sideways with this deal.

I finished my cup and poured another. As I reclaimed my seat, Luciana came downstairs, her tread soft on the staircase. She froze in the kitchen doorway when she saw me. I waited, wondering if she’d run the other way or be brave enough to come closer. I had my answer a moment later when she came farther into the room and looked at the coffeepot with longing.

“You can have a cup. They’re in the cupboard over the coffeemaker. I don’t keep creamer, but there’s regular sugar in the canister on the counter and some milk in the fridge.”

She wordlessly walked to the coffeepot and got down a mug. She filled it, then opened the fridge and pulled out the milk, staring at it a moment. Her questioning gaze met mine. Had the kid never seen milk before? Or maybe it was the fact I had to use the watered-down shit.

“I’m an old man, darlin’. I can’t stomach whole milk anymore. Even the two percent is too rough, so I only stock one percent. If you’ll give me a list of things you need, I’ll have someone pick up a few groceries.”

She added the milk to her coffee and put the carton back in the fridge. After looking around the kitchen with confusion etched on her face, I pointed to the drawer next to the stove. She walked over and slid it open, pulling out a spoon. Luciana sat next to me and stirred her coffee.

“Guess it’s a little stressful and weird to leave your home and go somewhere new,” I said.

She just stared at her cup and didn’t say anything, but I noticed her lower lip trembled a bit.

“Your dad probably has a big mansion in Colombia. I know this place isn’t a palace, but hopefully you’ll be comfortable.”

I honestly hadn’t given a shit. Until now. The more I watched her, the more certain I became things weren’t as they seemed. That fucker! Casper hadn’t made a deal with Gomez for his own merit. He’d been trying to get these girls out of Colombia. I just didn’t know why, but I would. And soon. If shit was heading my way, I wanted to be ready.

Luciana sipped her at her coffee and still didn’t say a word. I noticed her body was tense, and her hand shook a little. The girl was scared. Was it because of being somewhere new? Leaving her only home? Or was it something else, something that would likely piss me the fuck off? I shouldn’t have offered to keep her here. Anyone else would have been a better option. Hell, the girls could have shared a room at Rocket’s place, or Luciana could have stayed with Shooter or Knox. Both were a fucking lot younger than me. Maybe she worried I’d try to take advantage? She’d likely be disgusted if I made a move on her, not that I planned on it.

“Luciana, I don’t know what you think of me, and I honestly don’t give a shit. But I can assure you that I don’t take unwilling women, so if you’re worried I’ll force myself on you while you’re here, you’d be wrong.”

She audibly swallowed, and the coffee sloshed over the rim of the mug and onto the table.

“You won’t have to force me. I know my place and what’s expected of me.”

What. The. Absolute. Fuck.

“Come again?” I asked.

She finally met my gaze and held it for longer than a few seconds. “I’ll do as you ask. Do you want me here?”

 

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ABOUT HARLEY WYLDE…

Jess 40th Bday

When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Harley’s Website  / Harley on Facebook  /  Harley on Twitter

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

COVER REVEAL – Spider (Hades Abyss MC) by Harley Wylde #bikerbooks #CoverReveal #OlderHero

One look in her haunted eyes and Spider knows he can’t walk away.

 

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Luciana – All I’ve known is pain and suffering at the hands of men, even my father, a man who was supposed to love and protect me. I’ve survived, nothing less and nothing more. When I’m dropped off with a club of bikers, I figure it’s more of the same. I’ll do as I’m told, make sure I please them, and hope that one day I’ll find a way to escape. There is only one thing that could ever break me, and I’m scared of what will happen when the club learns of my secret. Will they return me to my father? Or will I be used to broker yet another deal? It never occurred to me the President of Hades Abyss would be my salvation, or that I would fall in love with him. I never knew men could be honorable and kind. He’s all gruff and domineering, but under that rough exterior I can see the heart of gold he tries to hide.

Spider – Casper VanHorne asked my club to take in two Colombian princesses. Well, he didn’t use the term princess, but I have no doubt they’ll be spoiled little bitches. The first time I see Luciana and her sister, I think I’ve got them pegged just right. I have too much shit to do to babysit, and I will do anything to make them run home to daddy. Until I look in Luciana’s eyes and see the fear she’s trying to hide. Something isn’t right, I know it deep in my gut. I never once thought a woman nearly forty years younger than me would ever captivate me, but Luciana holds me spellbound the more I get to know her. I didn’t want to fall in love, didn’t want a woman in my life… but sometimes the Fates know better than a mere mortal  man, and Luciana is exactly what I need.

When her father demands her return, I vow to keep her safe. Now that she’s mine, I’ll march into hell if need be in order to keep her by my side. No fucking way I’ll let the sick bastards who hurt her get their hands on her again.

WARNING: This book contains bad language, graphic sex, violence, a heroine who has been physically and sexually abused, and an alpha male who will get vengeance at any cost.

 

COMING JUNE 2019!

 

Jennifer and the Alien Badass by Jessica Coulter Smith #awardnominee #scifi #aliens #RomanceBooks #singlemombook

 

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Available from Changeling Press and online retailers!

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Jessica Coulter Smith

A perky blonde behind the reception counter smiled brightly at her. “May I help you with something?”

Penny, her tag read. “Penny, I need to speak to someone about someone who recently entered the bride program.”

The receptionist’s eyes went wide. “Oh, we can’t discuss our candidates. Not unless they left permission during the application process. You could check with records and see if your name is on the approved list.”

Jennifer ground her teeth. “And where is Records?”

Penny pulled out a map and highlighted the way, then handed it over. Following the neon line, Jennifer made her way through the station, trying not to scowl at every alien she passed. It wasn’t their fault her daughter had run off to get married to some stranger on another world. When she reached Records, the alien behind the counter smiled at her.

“My name is Zwyk,” he said. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I think my daughter joined your bride program and I’m trying to find out if she’s already been sent to your world.”

His eyebrows rose. “I see. And your daughter’s name?”

“Lila Montgomery.”

He tapped away at his computer, a frown marring his face before he looked up at her again. “Mrs. Montgomery, I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you where your daughter is right now.”

“It’s Miss,” she bit out. “So, either you really don’t know, or she did join your program and said you couldn’t tell me where she was.”

He looked pained, which was all the answer she needed. It felt like steam was going to billow out of her ears at any moment. They’d allowed her baby to sign up, and now they wouldn’t even tell her if she’d made it to their planet safely. Assholes. No, that wasn’t completely fair. It wasn’t entirely their fault. Lila was just as much to blame for this mess, if not more so.

“Who is in charge?” Jennifer asked.

“Tyril. He’s…” Zwyk looked over her shoulder and pointed. “Over there.”

She turned and looked, seeing two aliens having a discussion in the middle of the station. One was taller and broader than the other, his hair was long and thick; a rather sexy eye patch covered one eye. The smaller one was dressed nicer and looked more… tame. She glanced from one to the other again, and hoped it was the tamer looking one that was Tyril. The taller one looked like he could break her in half without breaking a sweat.

Jennifer approached them and the taller one stopped mid-sentence to look her way. Though he only had one eye, his gaze was appreciative as he took her in from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. A sexy smirk graced his lips when he met her gaze. Oh lordy. Now that was a man who was sexy as fuck and knew it. She forced herself to look away and focus on the smaller of the two.

“Are you Tyril?” she asked.

He nodded and gave her a pleasant smile. “If you want to apply for the bride program, the application center is at the front of the station.”

“I’m actually here about someone who already signed up.”

“I’m afraid we can’t divulge information about our potential brides without their permission. You’ll have to speak with Zwyk and see if you’re on the approved list.”

Jennifer folded her arms under her breasts, pushing them up, and stared at Tyril. His gaze momentarily dropped to her chest before he looked up again. Good. She had his attention, or at least part of her did.

“My daughter received something in the mail from this station, and she’s been missing for over a week. Your precious Records person won’t tell me a damn thing and I demand to know if my daughter is safe. Do I need to go to the police to file a missing persons report, or is she not on Earth anymore?”

Tyril’s eyes widened a little. “Your daughter? We would never allow someone underage to…”

She held up a hand. “Lila is eighteen and grown enough I suppose, but sometimes she still acts like a child. Much like now. She disappeared only saying she was going to a friend’s house, packed enough clothes for a week, then made sure her friends wouldn’t tell me where she was, and she wouldn’t answer her phone. I found the opened envelope under her mattress and the letter inside was missing. I guess if she’s off-world that would explain why she’s not answering her phone.”

Tyril looked sympathetic. “I want to help you, but I can’t. We have rules in place for a reason. If she did sign up for the program and didn’t put you on the approved list of contacts, then there’s nothing I can do.”

Tears of frustration welled in her eyes and her hands clenched into fists. “So I’m just supposed to wonder for the rest of my life what happened to my only child?”

The taller of the two moved closer. “You have a daughter old enough for the bride program?”

“Yes.” Jennifer bit her lip. “I know she’s technically an adult, but she’s my baby. She’s all I have. Isn’t there something you can do?”

“The only way any human is going to our world is as a potential bride, or part of an already mated pair,” Tyril said, his gaze sliding over her. “And as you’re old enough to already have an adult child, I doubt either is a possibility for you.”

Jennifer’s cheeks flushed with anger, and without thought, she hauled back her hand, made a fist, and punched him right across his jaw. Tyril stumbled back a step, his eyes wide and incredulous, as his hand cupped the injured area.

“You hit me!” he said in outrage.

“And I’m going to kick you in the balls next if you don’t help me,” Jennifer said. “And I’m not old, dammit. I’m only thirty-eight.”

Tyril cupped said balls and took another step back.

The one-eyed alien smiled broadly. “I like her.”

“Call security,” Tyril said. “Someone needs to escort her from the premises.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me where my daughter is,” she shouted at him.

“You’re a menace,” Tyril said.

Jennifer growled and advanced on him, whacking his biceps with her open palm before cracking her other hand against his cheek. They were not going to keep her child from her.

The sexy alien behind her gave a full-belly laugh and wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her back against his rather impressive chest. His body shook with merriment as Tyril glared at them, looking more than a little irate at her attack. She supposed she should be thankful he hadn’t tried to hit her back. While he might not be as built as the alien holding her, he wasn’t exactly weak looking either. One punch probably would have knocked her out.

“I believe you’ve met your match, Tyril. Why not tell her what she wants to know? She’s fierce and doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer,” the sexy alien said.

“Stay out of this, Siril. We have rules. Policies. I can’t go breaking them just because she wants to know where her daughter is. If she’s not on the approved list, I can’t even confirm whether her daughter was here or not.”

Some of her anger deflated and she felt utterly helpless. “You can’t even tell me if she was accepted into the program? I just want to know that she’s safe. Do you have children? Wouldn’t you want to know if they were okay?”

“I do not,” Tyril said, but some of the anger seemed to drain from him. “I’m truly sorry, but I can’t help you.”

“I’ll help you,” the alien behind her said.

 

Check out other books by Jessica Coulter Smith

 

Don’t Hold Back by Lynn Burke#BDSM #RomanceBooks #OlderHero #Contemprary @AuthorLynnBurke @changelingpress

Can he help her find the courage to face the emotions that come
with submitting her body—and heart?…

Don't Hold Back (Darkest Desires 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: BDSM, Contemporary, Dark Desire,
Silver Fox (older man), 2nd Chance Romance

Kelly Sadel has lived her life by a feels-o-meter since showing emotion as a kid was a big no-no. A timid analyst and fur baby momma, she avoids anything that stirs up her boring life. Secretly, she crushes on the man who rides the elevator with her every morning—he’s a unicorn amidst an office full of conservative short-hairs. He also sets her nerves on edge, topping her feels-o’meter to the limit, an oh-no in her carefully constructed world.

Accidentally dumping a box of cupcakes on his loafers grabs his unwanted attention, and he isn’t too quick to let go.

Jamison Byrne has worked his way through the submissives at Monique’s club hoping to find his own little subbie. He wants a collared sub, a woman to enjoy mutual pleasure his ropes bring without getting emotionally involved beyond scening.

Manipulation comes easy from years of life beneath a narcissistic asshole’s thumb, and Jamison finally gets Kelly to relent—but with her only agreeing to be friends. Jamison sweeps in but finds his feet swept beneath him as her nurturing nature opens him in ways he never expected. Sure he has found his “person,” he needs to find a way to share his darker desires and get Kelly to stop holding back and feel. He knows he can set her free, but does she want him to? Can he help her find the courage to face the emotions that come with submitting her body—and heart?

Get it Today at Changeling Press

Pre-Order for November 30th at Amazon, B&N, iTunes, and Kobo

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Lynne Burke

Kelly

The best part of being an analyst for Kirchoff Energy on the third floor of the office building in downtown Baltimore? Jamison Byrne in all his hot arrogance often hopped aboard the elevator, heading to the fourth floor for Davidoff Finance Corp.

Easily six feet or maybe an inch taller, he was a golden blondie with dark, piercing eyes and full lips that needed to be nibbled. Along with that, he had wide shoulders, a trim waist, and the most perfectly formed backside.

But he wasn’t my type. Nope. I preferred sweet, shy nerds. Not that I dated much. To be honest, I’d had two dates in the previous two years. Sure, I had the usual social media profiles, but the thoughts of signing up for one of those dating sites scared the crap out of me. Friendships were all fine and good — as long as I didn’t have to stomach strong feelings. I couldn’t handle them.

But Jamison… I drooled over him every morning I was lucky enough to share the elevator with him — and the other half-dozen people who stuffed in with us. He carried this mysterious air, a confidence that attracted yet repelled me at the same time. In an office of conservative short hairs, he had longer locks and kept scruff on his jaw… he even smelled damn delicious. A true unicorn in a field of rhinos.

He also set my nerves on edge.

I’d never spoken to him, never touched him, but my hands shook and knees weakened whenever he stepped into the elevator. I’d heard rumors from my co-workers on Friday that the hottie from Davidoff Financial upstairs modeled for romance novel covers. The idea didn’t surprise me — he had the body and look for it — and boy, did I enjoy looking.

Not that I wanted him.

On Monday, one of my coworkers celebrated her fiftieth birthday, so I stopped by a bakery to get black-icing cupcakes. I carried the white box in front of me, so scared of dropping the damn thing that I didn’t take care when entering the elevator. Thinking I’d gone in far enough, I turned, and nailed the person shuffling in behind me with the box.
White cardboard — flimsy as shit — flew from my hands, and in slow motion just like a cartoon, it fell to the floor as I leapt toward the damn thing. “Shit! No!” I bit off the word as the box landed on leather loafers I knew well.

Heat crept up my chest, and I quickly squatted without lifting my head, pushing up my too-big glasses. “I’m so sorry!” I grabbed at the scattered cupcakes, smearing frosting all over my fingers — and his shoes.

“It’s okay.” That low, rumbly tone swept down my spine, straight to the loneliest place on earth, springing dampness to life between my thighs. “Let me help.”

Jamison Byrne in all his slow, seductive sexiness, crouched down in front of me, his jeans tightening across his thighs and showcasing a bulge worth drooling over. No wonder he modeled for romance novels.

My mouth watered, and I snapped my jaw shut to swallow, realizing I stared at his groin. My God. Pure heat flooded my face as the elevator door slid shut with only two others stepping in the join us in the mess I’d made.

“Y-you don’t have to do that,” I told him as our fellow patrons of the elevator shuffled around to stay away from the mess.

Jamison picked up a cupcake and dropped it in the askew box beside me, icing coating one of his fingers.

I wanted to lick it off. No, I just wanted his finger in my mouth.

My insides trembled like a bowl of gelatin, like the final leaves on the trees outside, and I refused to lift my gaze to his face. He was a mere three feet away, if I looked into his eyes, my insides would be wrecked, flooded with feelings topping out my feels-o-meter with its ten limit.

I leaned forward to grab the last cupcake at the same time he did. Our hands brushed, and lightening split my mind, tearing a gasp past my lips. My attention jerked up, my gaze landing on his face.

Dark eyes, so black they should have looked like a shark’s, with a dead and unfeeling gaze. But the intensity of his stare, the heat in those orbs pebbled my skin. My jaw slackened. Brain erupted in chaos, my feels-o-meter spiking beyond a mere ten.

He glanced at the ID hanging around my neck. “Kelly Sadel.”

Did I nod? I couldn’t remember, but I became very conscious of the fact my low-cut blouse revealed the girls spilling from my bra.

“Jamison Byrne.” He held out his hand.

“Y-yes, I know.” My voice shook as badly as my hands as I lifted up a bit to lessen the peek show and then shoved the box’s lid down, rudely ignoring his hand. No way in hell I could touch the man again. He’d already ruined a pair of my panties. “I mean — I don’t know. Er… well, I’ve heard of you, that is. Mr. Byrne of Davidoff Financial.”

His chuckle lit all kinds of butterflies in my stomach, and a shaky smile pullaed at my lips as I fought to control the turmoil in my brain.

“I’m sorry.” Heat flooded my cheeks anew. “I’m so, so sorry.” I struggled to stand, my purse dangling from my forearm, the wrecked box in my hands, my glasses tilting again. “I don’t even have a tissue to offer you for your shoes and I should. Allergy season, you know? The ragweed kills me every time this year.” The box wobbled in my shaking arms.

Jamison grasped my elbow and steadied me, jerking my gaze up to his face again. He towered over my five-foot-two, and his divine scent, spice with a hint of wintergreen… it stuck to my nose, coated my lungs. I couldn’t breathe him in deeply enough.

G-good God. So pretty. So golden. Beautiful, beautiful, boy…

“Steady?” he asked, his lush-looking lips still smiling.

I nodded like a dumb idiot even though I would much rather have said no in the hope his warm hold on my elbow would linger. What would that large hand feel like sliding up my arm to grasp my nape? Would I swoon if he lowered his head and swept his lips over mine? Lips, perfectly bowed and pink… soft looking. Delicious, actually —

 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of hot romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.

Website: https://www.authorlynnburke.com/

Blog: http://authorlynnburke.blogspot.com/

Dixie Reapers MC, Vol. 2 is now in Paperback! #paperback #MCromance #bikerromance #NewRelease @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Sometimes temptation is just too great.
I’m going to claim her. Damn the consequences.

 

Rocky/Bull Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Print 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: MC Romance, Contemporary, New Adult, Silver Fox
Paperback Price: $12.95

 

Rocky (Dixie Reapers MC 3)

Mara: My stepbrother Sebastian wants what he can’t have — me. When I crashed down a mountain the man who pulled me from the wreckage rescued me in every way that counts. Rocky is the biggest, sexiest badass I’ve ever seen. The stubborn man says I’m too young. I’ll just have to prove him wrong.

Rocky: I never expected that past to show up in the form of a sexy-as-fuck woman — a woman I shouldn’t touch. I’ll do anything it takes to keep her safe, even go home to Alabama. My brothers, the Dixie Reapers, will help protect her. I’m just not sure who’s going to protect her from me, because I’m never going to let her go.

Bull (Dixie Reapers MC 4)

Darian: I can tell he wants me, even though he’s fighting himself. But he doesn’t have to… because I’m his. I’ve held onto my virginity all these years, but I want him more than I ever thought I’d want someone. For once, I’m going to get what I want. And I want Bull.

Bull: There’s more than twenty years between us. I wanted to be a better man, to walk away, but I can’t. She begs me so sweetly, and soon I can’t resist anymore. She’s mine. And any fucker who tries to take her from me is going to die a slow and painful death.

 

Get the paperback at Amazon!

 

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Rocky (Dixie Reapers MC 3)
Harley Wylde
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Harley Wylde

Mara

My hands clenched the wheel tighter as my small car careened around another curve on the icy mountain road. How the weather could be this bad in early fall, I didn’t know. My heart raced in my chest, and my gaze shot to the rearview mirror. Still alone. If they were following me, I didn’t see them. Even Sebastian’s men wouldn’t be dumb enough to drive these roads as fast as I was taking them, would they? They were New Yorkers, though, and would be used to bad driving conditions. I, however, was a California girl and hadn’t had much experience driving on icy and snow-covered roads.

Something darted across the road, and I reflexively hit the brakes. My car fishtailed, then started to slide. A scream tore from my throat as the small compact crashed through the railing and down the side of the mountain. The crunch of metal made my heart beat faster, and I wondered if I was about to die. Glass exploded into the car as it bounced against the mountainside. My head slammed into the steering wheel more than once, and black dots swam across my vision.

The car landed upside down at the bottom of the craggy cliff. My harsh breathing filled the air as I tried to focus. I was dazed and hung limply from the seat belt, my hands brushing the roof of the car. Blood trickled into my hair and more ran down my arm. I groaned, feeling battered and bruised, but thankful to be alive. I didn’t know how long I hung there… minutes… hours… but the crunch of snow alerted me to another presence. I hoped like hell it wasn’t Sebastian or his men. I’d rather die than see them.

A gruff voice cursed, one I didn’t recognize.

“Hello?” I called out, my voice weaker than usual. “Help. Please, help me.”

For a moment, I wondered if I should have kept quiet. Just because I didn’t recognize the man outside my car, didn’t mean he wouldn’t hurt me. I didn’t know everyone in Sebastian’s employ, and there were monsters out in the world other than the man who wanted to claim me. As if I’d ever let him touch me!

Denim-clad legs came into view with massive feet encased in brown boots. The man dropped to one knee, his gloved hand braced in the snow as he peered into what was left of my car. Blue eyes met mine, and my breath stilled. Fine lines fanned from the corners, and his nose looked like it had been broken at some point. But that was all I could see of the man. His face was covered in a beard, and the parts of his hair not covered by a hat spilled around his face, looking as if it hadn’t seen a brush today.

“Don’t move,” he said.

Something about that voice, dark and commanding, sent a chill down my spine. Not in a bad way, though. Something about that voice made me want to obey. The man rose to his feet, and his hands closed around the door of my car, or what was left of it. The metal groaned as he ripped the door off and flung it away. My mouth dropped at the brute strength on display. How strong exactly did you have to be to rip off a car door? I’d never seen anything like it.

His hands, now bare, reached for me. The seat belt wouldn’t release, and he reached into his pocket, withdrawing a knife. He easily sliced through the belt. I fell to the top of the car, and hands far gentler than I’d have expected, pulled me from the wreckage. As the man stood, lifting me as if I were no more than a child, I realized that the hunk of man who had helped me was way taller than my first impression. And much, much broader.

“My bag,” I said softly.

He grunted and eased me down. I wobbled a moment, my hand braced on his wide chest. When I got my footing, he released me long enough to pull my bag from the front seat. It didn’t have much in it, but wherever I was going, I would need the things inside. The man slung the bag over his shoulder before lifting me once more, then we were off, striding through the knee-deep snow. Or rather, he was walking through knee-deep snow.

“I’m Mara,” I said. “Mara O’Malley.”

His gaze flicked down to mine. “Rocky.”

I waited, but no last name was forthcoming, and I wasn’t going to press him for it. He didn’t have to pull me from that car. He could have left me for the wildlife to find, or to freeze to death and not be found until spring when everything thawed out.

Snow began to fall in thick gusts, and soon I couldn’t see in front of my face. The man holding me trudged forward, through the ever-thickening snow, not stopping, not even slowing down. I didn’t know how long we walked, but soon I saw a structure come into view. No. A cabin. There was a wide porch across the front and a large stack of wood near the door. Another pile of wood peeked around the corner of the house with a tarp over the top.

Rocky clomped up the steps and pushed open the front door. The crackle of a fire welcomed us, and I moaned as the warmth from inside the house licked at my skin. I was frozen everywhere. He eased me down onto the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace and pulled a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around my shoulders.

My teeth chattered with such force I thought they might break, and I trembled from head to toe. I watched the mesmerizing flames as Rocky stepped away. I heard him trudging upstairs, only to return a few minutes later with two thick pairs of wool socks, some sweatpants, and a flannel shirt clutched in his massive hands. He crouched in front of me and slowly removed my shoes and socks.

I let out a squeak when he reached for the top of my jeggings and began sliding them down my legs. Too stunned to do much but stare, I didn’t protest as he pulled the blanket from my shoulders and removed my coat and sweater. Even though his gaze didn’t stray anywhere for too long, I felt exposed. No one had ever seen me in my underwear before, and I knew I should say something. Then again, he probably didn’t like women with as much meat on their bones as I had. My thighs were thick and jiggled when I walked, my ass should probably have been assigned its own zip code. And while my breasts were large and sometimes drew male attention, they weren’t big enough to make my rounded stomach look any smaller.

His gaze roamed my body before he rose to his feet and disappeared again, leaving me mostly naked in front of the fire. When he returned, there was a wet rag clutched in one hand and a tube of ointment in the other. Rocky crouched in front of me again, gently wiping the blood from my body. I winced as he applied the ointment to my cuts. There was one on my forehead and another near my collarbone, and my arm was dotted with smaller cuts from the broken glass. He sat back on his heels and studied me again, his gaze caressing every inch of my body. Did he like what he saw?

 

Check out more books by Harley

 

Dixie Reapers MC paperback, Volume 1 #MCromance #bikerromance #newadult #olderhero #NewRelease @changelingpress #HarleyW_Writer

One fucking look. That’s all it took. I branded her. I let her go.
Now she’s back, and she’s mine.

Venom/Torch Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Print 1)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Genres/Themes: Action/Adventure, MC Romance,
New Adult, Silver Fox, Contemporary
Format: Paperback

Venom (Dixie Reapers MC 1)

Ridley: My daddy was a biker, and I was definitely Daddy’s girl. When I found out my stepdad had something horrible planned for me, I ran. Straight to the Dixie Reapers. But it wasn’t my daddy’s arms I ended up in. Venom makes me feel safe, and his kisses make me ache for so much more. I want him — all of him — and damn the consequences.

Venom: I hadn’t risen to the rank of VP of the Dixie Reapers MC without getting my hands dirty. I’d been deep in blood and dirty money for over twenty years. But when an angel I hadn’t seen in fourteen years came back into my life, all it took was one look and I was a goner. Now she’s mine, and I’ll do anything to keep her, even if it means starting a war.

Torch (Dixie Reapers MC 2)

Isabella: I was seventeen when my daddy gave me to Torch. He inked me, then watched me walk away. Now I’m back, ready to face whatever fate awaits me. It never occurred to me he’d kiss me so deeply, so passionately I’d be begging for more. He’ll be my first, my last, my only… because I’m his, and he’s never going to let me forget it.

Torch: I’ve kept my distance, watching over the girl I claimed as my own. I know it’s only a matter of time before she comes home. There may be thirty years between us, but fuck if I care what people think. She’s mine, and I’m going take her any way I can, as often as I can, and when I’m done, she’ll never again think of walking out the door. Because she’s done the impossible… she’s claimed the heart of a man who didn’t think he had one. No one’s going to come between us, especially not the man who gave his daughter to me — not even if he has the entire cartel army on his ass.

Available at Amazon

Prefer ebook? Venom and Torch are available separately in ebook from Changeling Press.

 

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Venom (Dixie Reapers MC 1)
Harley Wylde
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2018 Harley Wylde

My heart thundered in my chest as I locked myself in the bathroom off the foyer. The air duct over my head had always carried sounds from the dining room, and I listened in horror as my stepdad and Mr. Montoya discussed me like I was cattle.

“She’ll do,” Mr. Montoya said. “I’ll have fun breaking her in. Once she’s been properly trained, I’m sure she’ll fetch top dollar.”

My stomach pitched, and I nearly threw up.

“Of course, I’d prefer to see all the merchandise before paying our agreed upon price,” Mr. Montoya said. “After dinner, I’ll see exactly what I’m paying for and maybe take her for a test drive.”

“Whatever you need,” my mom said. “This deal is very important to us.”

Holy shit! My own mother was selling me? Shit like this just didn’t happen. Not to girls like me. Yeah, sure, you heard on the news about women being sold overseas to brothels, but to have it brought to own my front door… My hand shook as I slowly turned the knob and let myself out of the bathroom. I removed my heels so I wouldn’t make a sound.

Marta, the housekeeper we’d had since I first moved here, was quietly standing near the front door. Out of sight of the dining room. With a quick glance toward the door that led to where my fate awaited, I dashed to Marta’s side. She handed me my purse and car keys.

“Be safe,” she whispered. “Go straight to your father.”

“Marta, I…”

She shushed me and gave me a tight hug. “I love you like you were my own. I won’t stand by and let this happen to you. Now go, before they realize you’re not coming back.”

“Thank you,” I said fervently, then soundlessly opened the front door and made my escape.

My car, a Mercedes Richard and Mom had bought on my sixteenth birthday, was parked around the side of the house. The engine was quiet, and if I kept my headlights off, no one would even know I was leaving. I slipped behind the wheel and tossed my purse and shoes on the passenger seat. Fastening my seatbelt, I shut the door as softly as I could and started the engine.

The car crept around the fountain and down the driveway. The gate remained open from when Mr. Montoya had arrived, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Once my tires touched the road, I flicked on my headlights and headed for the highway. It was a long-ass drive to Alabama, but except for gas, I wasn’t fucking stopping until I saw my daddy. Mom might have done her best to separate us, but I would always be Daddy’s little girl.

When I’d been on the road for hours, my stomach began to cramp from hunger and my car was almost on empty. I pulled into a small town somewhere in North Florida. After filling my tank, I left the car parked at the gas station and walked across the street to a diner. But what I saw when I stepped through the doors froze me in my tracks. My face was plastered across the TV with a ticker running underneath. Ridley Johnson is reported as being unstable. If seen, contact the police immediately.

I tried to pull my hair forward as much as possible to hide my face and claimed a spot at the back of the diner, where the lighting wasn’t so great. My hands fumbled with my purse, and I quietly counted what was left of my cash. I’d seen enough crime shows to know my credit cards could be traced, so I’d paid cash at the gas station and I’d pay cash for my meal. An older waitress came over, looking dead on her feet.

“What can I get you, doll?”

“A burger and fries with a sweet tea.”

She nodded and scribbled my order down, not even looking at my face once. As she moved away to place my order with the kitchen, some of the tension eased from my shoulders. The place was nearly empty, but I had a close call when a sheriff’s deputy stepped inside. I sat frozen, scared to even breathe, until he picked up his to-go order and went back out to his cruiser.

My meal arrived a few minutes later, and I ate quickly, leaving enough money on the table to cover the bill and a tip. Gathering my purse, I headed back to my car, every nerve in my body on alert for any kind of trouble. I hit the road again and didn’t stop until I’d cleared the panhandle.

The town was shabby, the sidewalks cracked, and the buildings crumbling. I stuck out like a sore thumb, but it was time to change. I stopped to top off my tank at a gas station that was well lit, just in case I got stuck with the car a while longer, and grabbed my backpack from the trunk. In case my family had gotten nosy, I’d hidden it in the spare tire compartment, which meant if I had a flat I was shit out of luck because both the tire and my bag and boots hadn’t fit.

After filling up the car, I stepped into the grimy bathroom and stripped out of my dress and heels. I washed my face in the sink with the harsh soap provided in the dispenser and blotted it dry with the stiffest damn paper towels I’d ever touched. Pulling an elastic from my bag, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail, the long curling mass falling down the center of my back. After I had shimmied into a pair of tight, ripped jeans and put on a black tee with teal swirls and white skulls across the front, I slipped on some socks and the biker boots I’d picked up at a Harley Davidson store.

A smile flashed across my face as I studied my reflection in the cracked mirror. Aside from the golden curls, I didn’t even look like Ridley Johnson anymore. At least, not the Ridley Johnson Mom had molded me to be. I hated that girl and never wanted to be her again. I stuffed my dress and heels in the trash, picked up my bag, and went back out to my car. The guy behind the counter didn’t even look up from his magazine.

Now I just had one more problem. The damn car. There was no way my stepdad had put out that bulletin on me without also telling the cops what I was driving. It was a fucking miracle no one had pulled me over yet. I knew what I was about to do was risky as hell, but so was driving around in this damn Mercedes for another minute.

I’d hung around my dad long enough to know what I was searching for. Our visits might have been few, but he’d always made them count. Mom thought we were taking drives to the park or the beach, but he’d been teaching me about his way of life, and introducing me to some people she wouldn’t have approved of.

I pulled up to a garage on a darkened street corner. A light inside told me someone was around, even if the place wasn’t officially open. My palms were sweating again but I blew out a breath and braced myself. It was time to put the socialite behind me and be every inch my father’s daughter. I pulled the keys from the ignition and boldly walked inside.

“You can’t be here, bitch,” a voice said harshly from deep inside.

“I need to make a trade,” I said.

A man with a leather cut strolled out of the garage, the lighting just good enough that I could read Devil’s Boneyard MC — V.P. — Scratch.

I had no fucking clue if it was a rival club of Dixie Reapers or not and knew I needed to tread carefully. We studied one another, his gaze taking me in from head to toe. Not in an I want to fuck her kind of way, more like he was assessing if I was a threat.

“I have a problem,” I said. “I have a hot car and need someone to take it off my hands. All I need in return is something that will run well enough for me to get a few states away.”

Scratch rubbed his jaw and looked beyond me to the silver Mercedes.

“If you change out the VIN or strip it for parts, you can make a decent amount off it,” I said. “I don’t care what piece of shit you give me in return as long as it gets me where I’m going. I need reliable, not flashy.”

He took in my appearance again. “You know how to ride?”

His question momentarily startled me. “Ride?”

He tipped his head and sauntered back inside the garage. Against my better judgment, I followed. There was an older motorcycle sitting off to the side. The pewter gray tank and fenders had seen better days, but as I circled the bike I saw that it was in pretty decent condition. The Harley emblem, though tarnished, was a welcome surprise. I wasn’t a bike expert by any means, even though Dad had tried, but I thought it was a Harley Soft Tail, which meant it would be light enough for a woman like me to handle. Unlike the big monster my dad rode.

“How well does it run?” I asked.

Scratch walked over to a wall and pulled down a key, tossing it to me. I snatched it midair and straddled the bike. The key turned in the ignition easily enough and I twisted the throttle. The engine rumbled, and a smile spread across my face. God, I’d fucking missed that sound. The thrum of the bike between my legs made me feel like I was coming home. Dad had taught me to ride when I was fourteen, and he’d rented a bike for me every time he’d visited after that, even if I hadn’t been exactly been legal to drive the first few years.

“Even trade?” I asked.

The gaze Scratch gave me said he saw more than I liked, but he nodded.

“I just need to get my stuff from the Mercedes. It’s unlocked,” I said, handing him the car keys.

When I returned with my backpack strapped to me, my purse stuffed inside, he held out some papers to me. I glanced at them and saw it was everything I’d need to make the bike legal when I got to where I was going.

“I don’t know who you belong to, baby girl, or what you’re running from, but you don’t fucking stop until you reach your man.”

“You know who I am,” I said softly.

“Picture’s been all over the news tonight, statewide from what I hear. You don’t appear all that unstable to me, but that family you’re leaving… they’re bad news. Richard Benton III is not a nice man.”

“You know my stepdad?” I asked without thinking.

“Know of him. My crew won’t have anything to do with the shit he’s mixed up in.”

I straddled the bike again and nodded.

“Who taught you to ride? Socialites like you don’t know shit about bikes.”

“I’m not a socialite. I’m a biker’s daughter.” And that was as much as I was going to tell him.

 

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Short. Erotic. Sweet. Harley’s other half would probably say those words describe her, but they also describe her books. When Harley is writing, her motto is the hotter the better. Off the charts sex, commanding men, and the women who can’t deny them. If you want men who talk dirty, are sexy as hell, and take what they want, then you’ve come to the right place.

Visit Harley at harleywylde.com!