A Daddy for Mika by Shelby Morgen #ChristmasRomance #holidaystories #singlemom

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Published by Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

A woman running from her past. A man with no future. A little boy with one simple Christmas wish.

Mika wants a daddy for Christmas. Deputy Kaden Hunter may be just the Christmas miracle Stevie needs… if the drug dealers and her thieving ex don’t catch up with her first.

Healing may be just one kiss away.

 

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REVIEW FROM HARLEY WYLDE…

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ — 5 stars!

If you want a heart-warming story for the holidays, then A Daddy for Mika is a must-read!

You’ve read it all a million times before. Down on her luck single mom, and hunky hero to the rescue. But … Stevie isn’t your typical single mom, and there’s more to Kaden than you at first realize. I thoroughly enjoyed little Mika wrapping the deputy around his finger, and Stevie doing her best to resist the sexy Kaden. My only complaint is that I wanted more… I hope we get to see more of Stevie, Mika, and Kaden in the future.

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Shelby Morgen

It was after two a.m. by the time Stevie scooped a sleeping Mika up out of the chair in Mel’s office and followed Janice out the back door. Her arms ached from the late mop-up and her back hurt from standing at the drive-thru register for the last nine hours, but Mika was full and happy, with a racecar in his pocket, and she had a job. Lord knew how many regulations Mel’d broken putting her right on the floor like that, but he’d written her up as a rehire, even though it had been four years. And really, nothing much had changed. She’d figured out the updated menu buttons long before the after-work crowd had thinned to a trickle.

She crossed the street to the market, devoid now of the outdoor Christmas display and the crowd. And everything else. The parking lot was utterly empty. She stood under the light, staring blankly, unable to comprehend. How could her car not be here? She knew she’d left the car here. Right here. In the front row, near the doors, under the security light. Because it was safe. And easily seen.

And now it was… gone.

It wasn’t a great car. A twelve-year-old Toyota, with over one hundred thousand miles on it, but still. It was a car. It ran. And everything she had left was in that car. What was she going to do now? She couldn’t walk across town to their apartment carrying Mika. Not at night. Not in this weather. It was far too cold. He’d get sick. She couldn’t lose that car. How could you lose a car?

Santa and the children’s train ride were packed away for the night. There were no cars in the employee lot. Everything was quiet now aside from the occasional whistle of the wind that whipped the snowflakes under her hood to sting her cheeks.

Someone had to know where her car was. Stevie pressed her face to the plate glass window. The whole front of the market was dark — even the multicolored Christmas lights outlining the plate glass panes were dark, now, hanging dead and barren like ghosts of Christmas past, but she could see white work lights in the very back. The stock crew worked overnights, when the market was closed. Maybe they parked around back.

It was a business, so there wasn’t any doorbell. She raised her free arm — the one that wasn’t holding Mika tight against her to keep him warm — and smacked her palm on the big glass door. Hard. Hard enough to rattle it a bit and made a dull thud, but nothing anyone in the back would be able to hear. She tried pounding on the door with her fist.

“Hey!” she shouted. “I need my car! Give me back my car!”

“Momma? What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, baby. Everything’s going to be OK.” She pounded on the window again. “Where is my car, damn it!”

Headlights flashed off the plate glass windows, and a siren blared half a beat, then quit. Stevie turned slowly to face the inevitable. She could feel the tears starting to roll down her cheeks. This day just couldn’t get any worse.

As soon as the thought formed, Stevie knew she’d just challenged Fate to screw with her… again.

* * *

Kaden Hunter parked his patrol car right in front of the market’s main doors, crossways to the fire lane, so his lights lit up the whole storefront. The woman dropped her fist from the plate glass door and turned to face him, her whole body sagging in defeat.

Woman? Hardly more than a girl. A wisp of a thing, but a fighter. He had to hold back a smile. Her hood fell back, and a cloud of red hair as fiery as her temper whipped around her head in the wind. She might have been gorgeous — if she hadn’t looked so exhausted.

What the hell was she doing out here after two a.m. — with a kid on her hip? She didn’t look much more than twenty. Any bartender worth his weight would have carded her. And the boy looked to be three or four. Didn’t she know that little man needed to be in bed asleep?

He moved closer, cautious, his hand near his hip. Trusting the woman as an innocent was the kind of mistake that got police officers killed. He got close enough to see the tears streaming down her face before he spoke. “Deputy Hunter, Sheriff’s department. Mind telling me why you were assaulting this building, ma’am, and at this time of night?”

“My car,” she sobbed. “They took my car.”

He blinked, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “Who took your car?”

“I don’t know. I just need someone to tell me where they took it to.”

“The folks from the Market had it towed? Did you leave it here overnight?”

“No!” She looked around. “I guess they could have thought I did, but Mel has an agreement with them. Or at least he always used to. Late shift parks over here under the lights at night. I filled out an application, but the market wasn’t hiring, so we walked across the street to Debbie’s, and the drive-thru clerk walked off the job just as I was applying, so Mel hired me on the spot, even though he didn’t want to, but he was in a bind and he didn’t have to train me. Then after mop-up we locked up and all I wanted was to go home and get Mika to bed and get some sleep but my car’s gone. And everything I own is in that car.”

He was a sheriff’s deputy, not a social worker. Or a rescuer of damsels in distress. Especially not redheaded banshees who attacked buildings in the middle of the night. But he had a weak spot when it came to redheads — and children. “You were living in the car?”

“No, we’re staying at the Country Inn Efficiencies, on the other side of town, but I don’t trust the place enough to leave anything there anymore, so everything was in the car. I’m such an idiot… I thought it was safer…”

The little boy raised a hand to her cheek. “Don’t cry, Momma. Everything’s going to be OK now. The policeman’s here. He’ll find Mr. Happy.”

Kaden bit his lip. “Mr. Happy? You named the car Mr. Happy?” That sounds more like the name of some kinky sex toy, not…

The little boy shook his head. “No, silly! Mr. Happy’s my pony. He’s in the car. The car’s name is Rollo.”

“Mr. Happy’s a pony… and Rollo…” Kaden rolled his tongue around the child’s nickname to translate. “Corolla?”

Momma nodded.

The visual was just too much. “Let me get this straight. We’re looking for a missing Toyota Corolla with a pony living in the back seat?”

“Yes!” the little boy agreed, bobbing his shaggy blond locks with a waterfall effect.

“No,” Momma answered at the same time, a trace of a smile washing across her tear stained face. “Well, not exactly. Mr. Happy is a stuffed pony. He’s lying down, with his legs all folded up, but he’s so big he takes up most of the back seat. Mika likes to sleep on him.”

And anything that would get a little boy to sleep… that Kaden understood. “OK, then. Tell you what. Let’s go down to the barracks, fill out some paperwork, and we’ll do our best to find Mr. Happy and his Corolla. Soon as we’re done with the paperwork, I’ll get you back to your hotel so you two can get some sleep while we look for them.”

 

MORE FROM SHELBY AT CHANGELING PRESS …

 

 

Naughty or Nice by Harley Wylde #ChristmasRomance #holidaystories #ContemporaryRomance

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

My marriage is a sham. I’ve already loved and lost my one and only. Making Carmella Juarez my wife was the only way to save my daughter, but I never intended to stay married. A decade has passed, ten years that I’ve kept my distance, but now it’s time to set things right and free both of us.

I never counted on her being sick and nearly dying. Didn’t count on falling for her as I nursed her back to health. But it’s the Christmas season and what better time for miracles? My heart isn’t as cold and dead as I’d once thought. Carmella has brought me back to life, and now that I’ve had a taste of the tempting woman who wears my ring, I know that I can’t ever let her go.

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Praise for Naughty or Nice (A Bad Boy Romance)

“Naughty and Nice is a great novella where we finally met the woman Casper married to save Isabella.  I wanted to punch Casper in the face for breaking this beautiful woman’s heart.  It takes a near tragedy to open his eyes and see his second chance.  Casper has always been elusive and reclusive.  One wonderful woman changes all of that.  Watch out for the next generation of Dixie Reapers they might be scarier then their dads!”

— 5 Stars from Melissa Toner, Advance Reader Review

 

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Carmella

I stared at the enormous rock on my finger and rubbed the golden band with my thumb. I’d always dreamed of getting married, but not once had I ever considered my special day consisting of marrying a man I didn’t know, leaving the only home I’d ever had, and being utterly and completely alone. My husband was a powerful man, and feared by many. He was also extremely absent in my life. Casper VanHorne had married me, flown me out of Mexico, then dumped me in some mausoleum of a house only to vanish before I’d even unpacked. It wasn’t at all what I’d anticipated. Yes, he was older than me, but I’d looked forward to my marriage. When he’d said he would take care of me, even though love wasn’t part of the deal, I’d imagined we would at least live together.

I’d barely been eighteen when he’d married me. At first, I’d thought that’s why he had left, and that he’d return before long. Then one year passed, and another. In nearly ten years, I hadn’t once seen my husband. It was lonely living here alone. Not to mention, I was twenty-eight and a damn virgin. I was starting to think I would die before ever knowing what it was like to have a man’s hands on me, to feel his cock thrusting inside me. My fevered dreams were likely far from what it would really be like if Casper ever came back and claimed me.

As another sharp stabbing pain made my eyes close and my body crumple, I wondered if my husband would return… before it was too late. I’d sworn the staff to secrecy, even the bodyguard Casper had left to watch over me. I’d grown close to the people who ran the house and protected me, even considered them my friends. When I’d first arrived, I hadn’t been able to speak any English. Now I was fluent and didn’t even use my native tongue anymore.

“Carmella,” I heard Bowen shout.

His strong arms wrapped around me, and I felt my body being lifted and carried, likely into the house. The pain had been worse lately, and coming more frequently. I had a feeling I was on borrowed time, but maybe that was for the best. It wasn’t that I wanted to die, I really didn’t, but I couldn’t help but wonder if my husband would be happier if I were gone. I knew he’d been forced into claiming me in order to save his daughter, a daughter he clearly never wanted me to meet.

I’d thought she was younger until he’d explained she was older than me. He didn’t look anywhere near old enough to have a fully grown child. There were a few lines around his eyes, but hardly a hint of gray in his hair or beard. At least, last time I’d seen him that was the case. I had no idea what he looked like now.

As the pain eased, my eyes fluttered open and a concerned Bowen was peering down at me.

“He needs to know, Carmella.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s had no interest in me all this time. The last thing I want is him showing up out of pity. I only wish…” I bit my lip, refusing to say the words.

“I know, sweet girl,” Bowen murmured.

We’d grown close over the years, but not in a romantic way. Bowen was more like an older brother than anything else. I gripped his hand as I settled back against my pillows. The frequent headaches that later turned to migraines had started a few years ago, and I’d ignored them at first. After Bowen found me passed out in the sunroom, he’d forced me to go to the doctor. It had only taken one test to discover the tumor lodged in my brain. The doctor had referred me to a neurosurgeon, who had wanted to start treatment immediately in hopes of avoiding surgery, but I’d refused. They said it appeared to be benign, but the pressure it was putting on my brain was the problem. Thankfully, my husband didn’t receive the bills directly. I didn’t know how Bowen and Mrs. Weathers had managed to pay for everything without alerting my husband that something was wrong, but they had and I was grateful.

“I can’t stand to see you like this,” he said. “Please accept the treatment, Carmella. You’re young still and have your entire life ahead of you. What you’re doing is the same as committing suicide.”

“I’m not as strong as I once thought I was,” I admitted. “I endured a lot as the illegitimate daughter of the infamous Miguel Juarez. When Casper made me his wife, I’d thought maybe I was going to have a new life. A family of my own, people who would love me. Then he ran and left me here.”

Bowen squeezed my hand. “I love you, and so does every other person in this house.”

“It’s not the same, Bowen. I’m twenty-eight and I’ve only been on a few dates. The only kiss I ever had was sloppy and gross. I’ve never… I’ve never been held by a man who loved me, never experienced passion. Is it wrong for me to want those things?” I asked.

“Of course not, Carmella. Casper would be here if he knew what you were going through. I have no doubt that he’d come and stay with you, take you to the doctor and convince you to start treatment. Don’t make me watch you die. They said if you act soon enough, surgery likely won’t be needed.”

The doctors had said that even though the tumor wasn’t cancerous it was still life-threatening. If I had something to live for, then I’d fight with everything I had in me. But what would be the point? I was lonely, so damn lonely. I didn’t have a family, and at this rate, I didn’t think I ever would. Bowen and Mrs. Weathers were my friends, but they were also paid to stay with me. I knew they cared, but it was different.

I reached up and cupped his whiskery cheek. “I’m sorry, Bowen. I just don’t have any fight left in me. There’s nothing to fight for.”

I felt his jaw tighten and watched as his eyes narrowed. I had a feeling I hadn’t heard the last from him on the matter. And he wasn’t the only one. The cook, Mrs. Weathers, was of the same mind, and so were the two maids and the butler. I knew they’d come to care about me, and I felt the same, but it wasn’t enough. I was so damn tired. The pain was debilitating on the best of days, and more and more often, it would make me lose control of the right side of my body, sometimes for an entire day.

I released Bowen and rolled to my side, letting the tears fall silently. He sighed and I heard the door click shut behind him. Left alone with my misery I wondered if maybe I was doing the wrong thing. I had no doubt they were right and Casper would be here if he knew something was wrong, but I wanted him here because he wanted to be, because he cared… not because someone tattled and said I was possibly dying. The last thing I wanted to deal with was his guilty conscience, assuming he even had a conscience. I wasn’t completely certain what he did, but if he’d had business with my father, I wasn’t certain he had a moral compass. It wasn’t just that Casper didn’t seem to want me. No one had ever wanted me. My mother hadn’t, and I’d been an embarrassment to my father who had given me to Casper as a business transaction.

What would it be like to be loved? Truly loved?

 

MORE FROM HARLEY AT CHANGELING PRESS …

 

 

Jackal/Wraith (Duet) by Harley Wylde #paperback #MCromance #bikerbooks #NewAdult #SilverFox #MayDecember @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Jackal/Wraith Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Box Sets 5)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Jackal (Devil’s Boneyard MC 1)

Josie: I spent an amazing three days with Jackal before he disappeared, back to his club, the Devil’s Boneyard. He made it clear what we had was a temporary thing, and I was fine with that. Then I faced the scariest thing ever. Telling my big brother, Tank, a Dixie Reaper, I was pregnant and alone at the age of nineteen.

Jackal: I’ve thought about Josie since I walked away. I never counted on the little girl glued to her hip. Now I want something I’ve never wanted before. My family. Because Josie and our daughter, Allegra, are exactly what’s been missing in my life. Figures the one I want more than anything might be the first to send me packing. But I’m not letting anyone take them away.

Wraith (Dixie Reapers MC 8)

Rin: My mom died when I was little, my dad when I was fifteen. My half-brother convinced the state to grant him custody, and my life has been hell ever since. Every time I try to run, he finds me, but this time will be different. I’m asking the Dixie Reapers for help. I didn’t count on the sexy man with the dark, brooding eyes who makes me want things I’ve never wanted before.

Wraith: I’m not the settling-down type. Maybe once upon a time, but not anymore. Now I’m faced with the strongest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. But I’m no good for her, or anyone else. She thinks she’s not worthy of me, but it’s the other way around. I need Rin back, and I’ll do anything to make her mine.

 

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Praise for Jackal (Devil’s Boneyard MC 1)

“…the sex is hotter than a firecracker. If MCs are your thing, you’ll like these stories.”

— 4 Stars from Alberta, Manic Reader Reviews

“Once again Harley has written an amazing story. I loved how everything turned out and it was nice to see Josie in a different light rather than the bratty girl I read about it Bull’s story. Jackal kind of had me ready to deck him in the beginning but by the end I loved him as well.”

—  5 Stars from Deshonda, Goodreads Review

Praise for Wraith (Dixie Reapers MC 8)

“Wraith was amazing. Rin is my absolute favorite. Reading about her story made me want to break down, but I loved how strong she was and though she was abused in countless ways it didn’t stop her from giving Wraith a chance. I definitely feel as if this was a 5 star read.”

— 5 Stars from Deshonda (iTunes Customer Review)

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde
Excerpt from Jackal

Josie

“I’m sorry, Tank. I tried to stop her,” the Prospect from outside said as he loomed behind me and reached for my arm.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I said, snapping my teeth at him.

The Prospect jumped back, jerking his hand away from me. Asshole. What the fuck was wrong with guys? Like it was okay to just manhandle a woman. Bad enough they’d eye you like a piece of candy and you just knew they were undressing you with their eyes, but touching was a no-no unless I said it was okay.

Tank groaned and met me in the middle of the room. “What the fuck are you doing here, Josephine?”

“It’s Josie,” I said. I’d only told him that about a million and one times, and he still didn’t get it. Josephine was the name of some prissy princess type, and that so wasn’t me. I was high-heeled boots, black leather, and a good dose of sass all the way. “I hate that fucking name and you damn well know it.”

“Fine. What the fuck are you doing here, Josie?” Tank asked.

“Mom has gone too damn far this time. Either you do something, or I won’t be held responsible for my actions.” And she had gone really fucking far. I was beyond livid, but I didn’t know where to turn except to my big brother. Well, half-brother, but he was still the only family I had outside of Mom. That I knew of. Dad was such a horndog, it wouldn’t surprise me if we didn’t have siblings in every damn state. Maybe even a few other countries.

“You know your whore mother doesn’t listen to a fucking thing I say,” Tank said. “You’re nineteen, Josie. Move the fuck out.”

“And go where?” I mean seriously. Did he expect money to just magically appear? I’d tried the college thing, but it wasn’t for me. I wasn’t about to tell anyone I’d been stalked and attacked on campus. Mom would make it all my fault, and Tank would likely beat the fucker into the ground. Then big brother would be in jail. Now that I’d refused to go back… No, I wasn’t going to think about that because big brother was going to fix it. At least he fucking better.

Tank shrugged.

I screeched and stomped my foot before marching over to the bar. The Prospect handing out drinks stared at me wide-eyed, not that I was surprised. I was acting like a fucking brat and I knew it, but dammit. I was seriously losing my shit over this mess.

My life had become so fucked up in a very short time, and I didn’t see any way out of it. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, and I refused to listen to my mother this time. She’d ruled my life long enough. I was going to take a stand. I just preferred not to take that stand and end up living in a cardboard box behind the diner. I might not be a prissy princess, but I also knew I didn’t have the skills to survive on the streets. Just the thought of not being able to wash my hair every day was enough to give me hives.

Okay, so maybe I was a little bit of a prissy princess.

“Whiskey,” I snapped at the Prospect.

“You’re underage,” Tank said.

“Since when do you obey the law?” I sneered. Please. As if my big, badass biker brother gave a shit about what was legal or not. I’d be willing to bet every penny in his account came from illegal dealings. Not that I’d ever asked, and I never would. I didn’t give a shit what he did, as long as he stayed alive and out of jail.

Tank tossed his hands into the air and turned away from me. “Someone else can deal with this shit.”

I could feel someone moving closer to me, but I was a little more interested in staring down the Prospect who still hadn’t given me my fucking whiskey. I glared, and he glared right back. Little did he realize, I could do this shit all night, and I was not leaving until I’d had a drink or five. No way I was dealing with my fucked-up life stone-cold sober. If I had to go home to the she-beast known as Mom, I was going to need some liquid courage. Even that wouldn’t likely be enough to face the fate she had in store for me. Just the thought of it made me want to puke.

“Give. Me. The. God. Damn. Whiskey.”

“You’re under –”

I growled and bared my teeth at him. “You’re about two fucking seconds older than me and I know you’re all up in here whoring and drinking your ass off every night. Don’t you lecture me, you fucking prick.”

I heard a chuckle to my left and turned my head in that direction, but the baleful glare I was going to blast the guy with fizzled and died when I got a good look at him. He was quite a bit older than me, probably close to my brother’s age, but God was he sexy as hell. His chocolate eyes just pulled me in and promised all sorts of wicked delights. My gaze strayed down his chest, and I couldn’t help but lick my lips. The material clung to him, showing off very well-defined pecs that I wouldn’t mind exploring. The patch on his cut said he was part of Devil’s Boneyard, an MC I hadn’t heard of before now. But if he was here on Dixie Reapers property, then he must be okay.

“Jackal,” he said, holding out a hand.

“Josie.”

“So I heard.” He smirked. “So, do you really want a drink? Because there are other, much more entertaining ways to blow off steam.”

“Oh, are there?” I asked, playing along. I didn’t whore around, but no one would believe me if I told them that. I dressed to kill, but I’d taken my own virginity with a vibrator when I’d turned sixteen. No way I was leaving something like that up to a fumbling guy who didn’t know fuck all about pleasing a girl. Since then, I hadn’t seen the reason to get overly dirty. But this guy… Yeah, I could see myself getting all hot and sweaty with him.

He reached over and trailed a finger down my bare arm, making me shiver in the most delicious way. “I bet I could keep you entertained for hours. Maybe days.”

“Days?” My gaze dropped to his lap and the rather impressive cock straining against his jeans before flicking back up to his face. “You seem awfully sure of yourself.”

“Oh, baby, you have no idea.” He winked and I couldn’t help but smile.

I’d often had fun flirting with Tank’s brothers, but there was something about this guy that made me want to do much, much more. For the first time in my life, I was tempted to take a true walk on the wild side. He seemed like the type of guy who could make a woman forget her name, claw up his back, and beg for more. If I was going to let some guy fuck me, he was definitely at the top of the list of possibilities. He had this sexy smirk that made my panties damp, and the way he ran his hand through his hair had me wanting to lean just a little closer. And those tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves! Oh yeah, I wanted to explore those with my tongue.

“Maybe you should convince me,” I said.

“I thought you’d never ask.” His eyes blazed as he reached for my hand, tugging me off the barstool and leading me out the front door.

I didn’t know where we were going, and right then, I didn’t much care. As long as I wasn’t heading home, I was all right with any destination, especially if Mr. Tall Dark and Sexy was leading the way.

We stopped at a Harley that made me want to drool, it was that goddamn beautiful. He swung his leg over the seat, then held out his hand. I climbed on behind him, my body fitting against his like we were two pieces of a puzzle. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on as he pulled out of the lot and headed for the front gate. The Prospect on duty let us through, and Jackal opened up the bike on the highway, flying down the road and taking us farther and farther away from my small Alabama town.

 

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.

Harley’s website: harleywylde.com

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Rocket (Hades Abyss MC) by Harley Wylde #bikerbooks #MayDecember #OlderManYoungerWoman #MCromance #NewAdult #PregnancyRomance #interracial @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Rocket (Hades Abyss MC 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Violeta — It’s been a year since I was brought to the US and given to Rocket. I’d thought he was like the others and would only cause me pain. I was wrong. Rocket is the kindest, sweetest man I’ve ever met. I arrived an abused, pregnant teen. Now I’m a more confident woman, and I have Rocket to thank. Falling in love with him was inevitable, but now I need him to see me as a desirable woman and not a girl who needs his protection.

Rocket — The young girl who came to live with me was more broken than I’d realized. The horrors she faced have made her stronger, but it didn’t happen overnight. It’s hard not to watch her, to want her. I shouldn’t. I’m too damn old for an eighteen-year-old woman. She’s not as fragile, physically and emotionally, but I can’t shut off the protector inside me that wants to shelter her and keep her safe. When she’s taken, I know that the men responsible will die. I only hope that side of me doesn’t scare my sweet Vi, but nothing will stop me from spilling their blood. I just don’t know if we can end the war before it starts, or if this will only be the beginning. I’ll keep her safe, no matter the cost, because she’s mine whether she knows it or not.

WARNING: This book contains violence, strong language, explicit sex scenes, and an abused woman. But it also has a biker who will protect the woman he loves, no cheating, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after.

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PRAISE FOR ROCKET

“This is such a great book. I love it! Violeta has blossomed… Rocket is perfect for her. He worships her, and that’s just what she needs. I love interconnected series like Miss Wylde writes, it makes the books even better to me. There are also quite a few little nuggets about a character whose story has yet to be told. I could have read at least 25 more chapters.”

— 5 Stars from Victoria, Goodreads Review

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Violeta

My hands trembled and my stomach felt like it was flipping and knotting up all at the same time. It was no secret my father didn’t love me, but I’d never dreamed he’d ship me off to a new country. Even though my sisters had been given away as well, our middle sister, Sofia, wouldn’t be with us. She’d been given to a different group of men, and I worried what would happen to her. Our life had been far from easy, but at least we’d always had each other.

I fought not to look at Luciana as I descended the steps of the jet. She couldn’t protect me, never could. But as the eldest, she’d always done her best to watch over us, and we’d looked up to her. Nothing could save us from our father or his men, but since we’d lost our mother when we were younger, it had made us all closer. I could hear her coming down the steps of the plane and I hastened closer to the group of men who would now decide my fate.

“You’re going to stay with Rocket,” an older man said. The writing on his black leather vest said Spider — President Hades Abyss MC. I’d heard that Luciana was to go with this man, and I hoped he’d be kind to her, but there was a resentment in his eyes that didn’t bode well for any of us.

My heart hammered in my chest as a tall, blond man lumbered toward me. It took every bit of strength I had not to turn around and run. As his hand closed over my arm, I took a breath to steady my nerves. I could do this. It was just like all the other times. Being in a different country didn’t matter. Though his grip was firm, it wasn’t overly tight and he wasn’t hurting me. Already that was progress over the men I’d known in my past.

“I’ll be good to you,” I said softly.

The blond man looked confused a moment, shared a look with the man called Spider, then gave my arm a slight tug. I followed him to a motorcycle that was all black and chrome. I didn’t know anything about them, nor did I know how to sit on one. He huffed, sounding exasperated, then lifted me and settled me on the seat. His hands pressed against my waist sent a strange feeling through me and my gaze jerked to his face, but he seemed oblivious to whatever I’d just felt.

Rocket climbed on in front of me and when I didn’t move, he gave a soft growl before reaching back and gripping my hands, then placed them on the leather of his vest. I let my hands settle there, lightly, not really understanding.

“Hold on or you’ll fall off.”

I held him loosely, scared that I would offend him and earn myself a punishment right away, but as the bike rumbled to life and shot forward, I squealed and tightened my grip, fisting the material. The wind whipped through my hair, and the bike vibrated under me. Had I not been terrified about what awaited me, I might have enjoyed the ride. There was a certain freedom to being on the back of his bike. By the time Rocket slowed the machine, I found myself wishing we could keep riding.

I didn’t know where we were going, didn’t really understand what was happening. I only knew the man called Casper VanHorne had brokered some sort of deal between my father and the bikers, and I’d only gleaned that from what little I’d heard discussed between the two men. My father had told us to do as we were told and not anger the men. Each of us knew exactly what that meant. We were to be his perfect little whores or suffer the consequences. A numbness filled me and I knew that I would never escape my fate.

A large gate slid open and Rocket pulled through, taking the bike down the road past homes. I wondered if it was similar to the compound my father had, just a more rustic version. In Colombia, we were protected by high brick walls and lots of armed guards. My father’s home was a mansion, easily big enough to house several families. Here I just saw miles of chain-link fencing with that sharp wire on top of it and modest homes.

Rocket came to a stop in the carport next to a small house. It was cute, and under other circumstances, I might have been enchanted by it. Instead, I knew what waited inside for me. The same abuse I’d suffered for years. I got off the bike, my legs unsteady, and I wobbled a moment. Rocket shut off the machine before standing. He gave a slight nod of his head for me to follow him. I tried to calm the rioting swarm of angry wasps in my stomach as I stepped through the front door of my new home.

I didn’t know how long I’d remain with Rocket. I’d seen quite a few bikes at the airstrip, and there were even more homes here. How long before he passed me to someone else? My father had made sure I understood none of these men had women in their lives. It was up to me and Luciana to keep them satisfied, no matter what they wanted from us.

The door shutting made me feel as if I were being sealed in a tomb. My fingers trembled as I worked the buttons on my top and then shrugged it off. The atmosphere seemed to change, and I looked over my shoulder to see Rocket frozen in place, his eyes comically wide.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ll be good,” I said, shoving my shorts down my legs. “I know my place.”

“What? I…”

I reached for the clasp on my bra and as the scrap of cotton fell to the floor, Rocket made a strange noise and bolted from the room. I blinked and stared, not sure what had just happened. I finished undressing and went after him, thinking that maybe I’d messed up and I was supposed to wait until we were in a different room. The door at the end of the hall was closed and when I tried to turn the knob, it wouldn’t budge.

“Did I do it wrong? Was I supposed to wait until we were somewhere else?” I asked through the door.

Panic started to well inside me. I’d already messed up. I’d upset him, and now I’d have to pay. A whimper escaped my lips as I sank to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs. I rocked back and forth, terrified over what I’d be forced to endure to make amends. White noise filled my ears and my vision tunneled until all I could see were scenes from my past. My father’s men and the things they’d done to me.

Hands gripped my arms and I screamed, but I’d learned the hard way not to fight. I hung limp, unseeing, and lost in the past. Words were murmured in my ear, but I couldn’t make sense of them. My back landed against cool sheets, and then a blanket was drawn over me. A large hand smoothed my hair from my face and I blinked rapidly.

The past faded and I saw Rocket leaning over me, concern etched on his features. “Easy, Violeta. No one will hurt you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” I couldn’t stop the words, repeating them over and over, hoping he’d forgive this one transgression.

Rocket backed away and then left the room. I waited, wondering if he would bring something back, one of those prods my father’s men used to shock me, or something worse. Instead, he set my clothes on the dresser and stepped into the hall. He pointed at the door and the doorframe.

“This is your space. Yours and only yours. No one is permitted in this room without your permission, including me,” he said. “You’re safe, Violeta.”

Safe? There was no such thing as safe. I was certain he was playing a trick on me, lulling me into a false sense of security so that it would be more traumatic when he showed his true colors. I wouldn’t be fooled. Not again.

Rocket stared at me a moment before muttering a curse and stomping off down the hall. I heard the front door open and slam shut, my body tense and waiting for whatever would come next. I waited for what felt like forever, but he didn’t return.

Eventually, I curled onto my side and let the tears fall. I hadn’t cried in so long. Tears had never solved anything. My chest ached and my throat hurt by the time I’d shed my last tear. I didn’t know what to make of this strange new life, or the man I now belonged to. Nothing made sense anymore.

Whatever I’d done to upset him, I’d fix it. I had to. It was no longer just me that I had to worry about. I placed a hand over my belly.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I promised the child growing there. I only hoped I wasn’t lying to the both of us.

 

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.

Harley Wylde is the “wilder” side of award-winning author Jessica Coulter Smith. Visit Jessica’s website at jessicacoultersmith.com or Harley’s website at harleywylde.com.  Want to be notified of new releases or special discounts? Sign up for her newsletter!

 

 

Preacher with Ryker & Badger by Harley Wylde #MCromance #bikers #NewAdult #SilverFox #RomanceBooks #NewRelease @HarleyW_Writer

Preacher with Ryker & Badger (Dixie Reapers MC Box Sets 3)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

Available in Ebook and Paperback!

 

Preacher (Dixie Reapers MC)

When I lost my family I closed off my heart and vowed to never let another woman in. Then the most tempting woman I’ve ever met gave me a night I knew I’d always remember. When she turns up two months later, she knocks me on my ass when she tells me she’s pregnant. With my kid. I don’t know that I believe in a higher power anymore, but maybe it’s time I start praying again. Because giving this woman everything she needs, being the man she deserves, is going to take one hell of a miracle.

Ryker (Roosters 2)

After 20 years in the military, I find myself doing my dad’s dirty work as the “prince” of the Hades Abyss MC, it’s expected of me. Doing a little recon in a small Alabama town should have been boring as shit, until the hot little minx I met at a bar turned my life upside down. If I’d known she was a virgin, I might have backed away, but now that I’ve had a taste I just want to keep coming back for more. Little did I realize that I’d just fucked the sister of a Dixie Reaper…

Badger (Roosters 5, with Paige Warren)

I went to prison for ten years after beating a man to death. He deserved it — I only wish he’d suffered more. Now I’m free, and the little girl I once saved is now a tempting young woman with curves in all the right places. She’s also the adopted daughter of my Pres. I should stay away, far away, but I’m drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Now what the hell am I supposed to do? I’m a longtime repeat offender. I can’t walk the straight and narrow. Can I? When I found out she’s pregnant, I know there’s nowhere to hide from the president of the Devil’s Fury MC.

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde
Excerpt from Preacher

“You here to see Johnny?” he asked.

“Yeah. Thought I’d surprise him.”

“Oh, he’ll be surprised all right. He’s inside,” the prospect said, tipping his head toward the clubhouse. “But then, you aren’t allowed in there are you? Too pristine for a place like that.”

“I’m not pristine,” I snapped.

I might be a virgin in the strictest sense, but I was far from angelic. I’d never technically had sex, even though I’d given a few blow jobs and fooled around, but I’d used my trusty vibrator to take care of my virginity. I’d heard it would hurt, and no way was I trusting a guy with something like that. Especially not since the guys I knew were selfish and fumbling. No finesse whatsoever.

“Just remember that you were warned.” The gate slid open, and he motioned toward the clubhouse. “Enter at your own risk.”

That sounded like something the creepy guy in horror movies says right before the heroine does something incredibly stupid, like enter a house full of mass murderers, or choose the darkened pathway filled with deformed, dying trees instead of the brightly lit path. This was just a clubhouse full of bikers, one of whom was my brother. How bad could it be?

I stepped through the gate and made my way across the lot to the building with Dixie Reapers across the top in neon, and slowly climbed the steps. The noise from inside was even louder now, and I pushed open the doors, not sure what to expect. The way my brother talked, I half-expected naked women and orgies going on out in the open. My gaze scanned the room, but I didn’t see my brother — or any orgies. The place was packed wall-to-wall with men and women in leather cuts with Dixie Reapers stitched across the back. Other than some smoking and drinking, I didn’t see anything wild going on. Not that those things were wild, but to hear Johnny tell it, all kinds of shit went down in here. They just looked like your average group of adults having a nice time.

No one paid me any attention as I moved farther into the room, but the fact I was the only one not sporting one of those leather cuts made me feel a little out of place. At least I’d worn my black top and not the red one I’d picked up first. Still, I didn’t exactly blend, even if some of the women present looked to be my age or close to it. I’d learned enough from Johnny to guess those were the old ladies. He seemed rather fond of the President’s woman, and I wondered if I’d ever get a chance to meet her. To hear Johnny tell it, the woman was up for sainthood. I didn’t think anyone could ever be that perfect.

At the end of the bar, a man sat alone, a line of shot glasses in front of him, and an old worn Bible nearby. I hadn’t taken the club for being religious, but then this man didn’t seem quite like the others. He wore the same cut as everyone else, but as I studied him, I realized he was more somber. There was almost a haunted look to him, as if he were trying to drown his demons in whiskey, or whatever he was drinking. I felt this pull, as if I were supposed to get closer to him.

Slowly, I made my way across the room and slid onto the stool next to his. He didn’t even so much as glance my way, but I could tell from the way his mouth tensed that he was more than aware of my presence, and didn’t seem to care for it. I didn’t know what he was trying to run from, and it was honestly none of my business, but I’d found that sometimes people just needed to be reminded they weren’t as alone as they thought. Despite the fact the room was full of people, not a single one had come to sit by him. Maybe he’d chased them off, or maybe they left him alone because of the vibe he was putting out. Neither was going to deter me. Someone as sexy as he shouldn’t be drowning their sorrows. Not alone anyway.

The guy behind the bar came over, a swagger to his step and a cocky smile on his face. His cut said Prospect, but thankfully he wasn’t someone I knew. The minute my brother found out I was here, he’d likely escort me back to the gate and send me home, which was the last place I wanted to be.

The guy leaned on the bar, his arms folded so that his biceps bulged. I assumed I was supposed to be impressed, but he looked just like every other asshole in my neighborhood who wanted in my pants. Not happening, buddy.

“What can I get for you, beautiful?” he asked, his lips tipping up on one side in a way I supposed most would find sexy. It wasn’t making me drop my panties, that was for sure. I was completely immune to guys like this one.

“Rum and Coke,” I said.

The guy next to me snorted.

“What?” I asked, turning my attention his way.

When his gaze clashed with mine, the breath in my lungs froze. Dark hair and a close-cropped beard were sexy enough, but damn… The man’s eyes were truly things of beauty. I saw blues, greens, golds. Maybe even a hint of gray. Those were the kind of eyes a woman could get lost in, the kind of eyes that would make her do something really stupid.

“You ever actually had a rum and Coke?” he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

“Maybe.”

He smiled a little. Not a full-out smile, and not even a smirk. It was almost like his lips had turned up without his permission because it was gone almost as fast as it happened.

“Why don’t you give her a Sex on the Beach?” the guy next to me said.

The Prospect leered at me. “Oh, I’d be delighted.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Just the drink, thanks.”

I could tell he wanted to say something, but he refrained, walking off to fix my drink. I focused on the guy sitting next to me again, and noticed his cut said Preacher

 

Praise for Preacher (Dixie Reapers MC 5)

“I love that Kayla’s kind heart did more for Preacher than even he knew. I loved that Ms. Wylde made this character someone who could give solace even as she knew it would go no further…or could it? I loved meeting Preacher and Kayla. Their beginning may have started with pain but I love how they still found a way.  I thoroughly enjoyed this addition to this series and look forward to Ms. Wylde returning to this world she has created.”

— Titania, Manic Readers Review

Praise for Ryker (Roosters, Dixie Reapers MC)

“This was a wonderful roller-coaster of emotion and struggle sprinkled with the love that you can only read about when you get deep into the Dixie reapers world. I absolutely adore this book and the author that wrote it.”

— 5 Stars, Goodreads

 

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

Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer

 

 

Saint (Dixie Reapers MC) by Harley Wylde #bikerbooks #MCromance #NewAdult #MayDecember #secretbaby #singledadromance #preorder @HarleyW_Writer

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Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

 

Sofia – I didn’t know what to expect when a man loaded me and my sisters on his jet and brought us to the United States. I’d thought we’d suffer at the hands of these men, much the same as what we’d left behind. Some of us have physical wounds, but those will heal over time. It’s the emotional scars I worry we’ll never recover from. I’m going somewhere different from my sisters, alone in a new country with strange men. The man called Saint has been ordered to take me, and I admit I’m terrified. Though he’s as beautiful as an angel, there’s a hardness in his eyes that scares me — until I see him with his daughter. How can a man so gentle and kind with a child be bad? If only he’d turn some of that kindness my way… But I know he’s right to keep his distance. I’m no good for either of them. It doesn’t stop me from craving his touch, from needing his kisses like I need air. I can’t regret our one night together, no matter the consequences.

Saint — I’ve always followed orders without question, but this time I’m not so eager to help the club. Keeping Sofia under my roof, down the hall from my daughter, is the last thing I want. If the monsters from her past hurt Sofia or my sweet Delia, there will be hell to pay. No matter how much I need to harden my heart against the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, I can’t. I want her, more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I’m far from celibate, but Sofia is more than a quick fuck. She’s the kind of woman you keep. I allow myself one night, one taste, one chance to hear her scream my name. After, I put the walls back up and lock her out of my heart. It was a mistake, the biggest I’ve ever made. I need her, want her, can’t live without her. But I did such a good job pushing her away, how will I ever win her back?

WARNING: This story contains a heroine who has suffered years of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse. The scenes are not described in detail but are a big part of the heroine’s past and are mentioned more than once. Guaranteed HEA, and lots of steamy scenes!

 

Available today at Changeling Press

 

or Pre-Order for July 12th at retailers

   

 

 

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All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2019 Harley Wylde

Saint

I hated that Torch had asked me to house one of the girls from Colombia. I didn’t like having her around Delia, didn’t know what sort of influence she would be on my small daughter. I’d heard her crying after I’d pointed out her room, but I hardened my heart and refused to go check on her. I hadn’t asked for this, and I didn’t want her here. Out of all the men at the compound, why me? I had a kid to think about. Just because I didn’t have a woman living in my house, didn’t mean I was up for this shit. I hadn’t even slept with a club whore since my daughter had come to live with me.

It wasn’t that losing her mother was so painful. I’d cared about Rhianon, but we weren’t in love. Or at least I hadn’t been in love with her. We’d had fun, and that had apparently resulted in us having a kid that she hadn’t told me about. When she’d passed, her brother had contacted me. I’d dropped everything and gone up to the Hades Abyss compound to meet my daughter.

Delia didn’t remember her mom, even though I’d made sure to keep a picture of Rhianon in Delia’s room from the very beginning, and had a few others around the house. I didn’t know her mother well enough to share many stories, not appropriate ones anyway, but her Uncle Rocket told her enough that I hoped Delia felt like she knew her mother. If there was anything I could give my little girl, it would be her mom. Even though Rhianon had kept her from me, I liked to think she’d have eventually told me. Delia was the best thing that ever happened to me, even if the only action I’d seen in the last four years was from my own hand. I’d give up women any day to have my daughter here with me. She was the most precious thing to me.

I shifted on my bed, unable to sleep. We were about to start day three with the stranger living in our home, and while Delia was starting to edge a little closer to Sofia each day, I was doing my damnedest to keep the hell away. I was twenty-seven, not some high school kid, and yet every time I looked at Sofia I could feel my body respond. It was starting to piss me off. The club whores tried but never could get a rise out of my cock, but one look at the little Colombian princess and I was hard as a steel post. What the fuck was wrong with me?

A faint noise had me going completely still and straining my ears. Another rustle of sheets and then a whimper. Was Delia having a bad dream? She hadn’t had nightmares before, but I knew introducing someone new into our home could change her sleep patterns among other things. It had just been me and Delia since she was an infant, another reason I hadn’t wanted the girl here. Girl. Woman. The way my body reacted to her, I couldn’t really call her a girl, even though I’d been told she was only nineteen. Hell, I’d been part of this MC before that age so who was I to judge based off some numbers? Age wasn’t a big deal around here. Torch was thirty years older than his wife, but she adored him.

I heard the noise again, then a scream that had me leaping out of the bed and racing from my room. The second scream sent a chill down my spine as I opened Sofia’s door. She fought against her bedding, speaking rapidly in Spanish. When she switched to English, my stomach knotted and twisted because I had no doubt exactly what was happening.

“No, Pedro. Stop! Please, don’t hurt me!” she cried out, grappling with the sheets. “No more! It hurts.”

She bucked her hips like she was trying to throw someone off. When her legs jerked apart and her arms went over her head, immobile as if someone were pinning her down, I nearly threw up. Moving farther into the room, I eased onto the bed and tried to gently rouse her.

“Sofia.” I brushed my fingers over her cheek, unable to help but notice how soft her skin was. “Sofia, it’s a nightmare. You need to wake up.”

“No. No more,” she begged. “Not again.”

Not again? Jesus. How many times had the man brutalized her? I shook her, but she just tossed her head and screamed again. I worried she’d wake Delia, and I wouldn’t know what to say to my daughter. She’d never witnessed someone having a nightmare, and it would likely scare her. Hell, it was scaring me.

After she screamed again, I decided enough was enough. I lifted her into my arms, wrapping her tight and holding her against my chest. She struggled a moment, but I kept murmuring to her, hoping to snap her out of it or at least calm her enough she could rest easy again and stop fighting off men in her sleep. If felt like forever before she started to relax. Her breathing evened out and her screams turned to whimpers, then soft murmurs. She took a deep breath and rubbed her cheek against my chest before going completely limp.

A knot lodged in my throat as I looked down at her, realizing she looked so sweet and innocent like this. Whoever had hurt her needed to pay. I eased her back down onto the bed, but she clutched at my T-shirt, holding on. I tried to pry her fingers loose, but she just held on tighter. With a sigh, I decided to just hold her until she shifted enough for me to make an escape. I leaned back against the headboard and curled an arm around her waist.

Four hours later, when the sun was starting to peek through the blinds, Sofia hadn’t moved, and my eyes were feeling like sandpaper. Delia was still quiet and would probably sleep at least another hour or two. I decided to close my eyes just for a moment, in hopes of them feeling a little less gritty. Sofia mumbled and snuggled closer, and I could feel sleep pulling me down. I must have dozed off because I woke with wide chocolate eyes staring at me in absolute terror. Her grip had loosened on me and I slid out of the bed, holding my hands up to show I meant her no harm.

“You were having a nightmare and when I tried to wake you, you grabbed onto my shirt and wouldn’t let go.”

She blinked and looked down, her cheeks flushing darkly. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” I swallowed hard, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t afford to soften toward her. I needed her out of my home and away from my daughter.

“I didn’t scare Delia?” she asked, her voice heavily accented this morning.

“She slept through it,” I said.

Sofia sighed and nodded.

“I’m going to head back to my room and try to sleep until Delia wakes up. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen.”

Before she could say or do anything else, I bolted. Big bad biker, my ass. I snorted at myself. Running from a little slip of a woman. Okay, so it was more of a brisk walk. I knew Sofia had trouble written all over her, and I didn’t need that sort of complication in my life, or Delia’s. I needed to remain strong for my daughter and do the right thing, even if running out of that room hadn’t been the easiest thing I’ve ever done. It would be better for everyone involved if Torch placed Sofia with someone else, maybe with one of the married brothers. I didn’t know why Sofia had to be in my home, but I didn’t like it.

I shut my door and leaned against it, feeling like a damn coward. I hadn’t backed down from anything in my entire life.

Before Torch had found me wandering the streets, I’d left home on my own terms because my mother’s latest boyfriend was an asshole who liked to hit people. But I’d stood up to the guy and that’s what mattered. Torch had shown me what it was like to be a real man, had given me a home and a chance at a better life. Even though I’d had to leave my sister behind, I’d done what was necessary at the time. I wouldn’t have been any good to her dead. Now my twin was the old lady of a club member, and was completely in love with Preacher. She’d brought him back from a dark place, but I think he’d saved her just as much.

I didn’t kid myself. That wasn’t me. Having an old lady? I might have wanted that at one point, and for Delia’s sake I knew I needed to consider it, but I was too worried about letting the wrong sort of woman into her life. The ladies who flocked to the MC were usually more club whore than mom of the year. I wasn’t saying they couldn’t be both, but I hadn’t found one like that yet, and that’s what I wanted. A mom who would adore Delia and give her everything she needed from a woman, and a tiger in my bed who clawed the hell out of me and begged for more. I didn’t think anyone like that actually existed. Not around these parts anyway.

 

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

Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer

Instagram: HarleyWylde

Facebook: Facebook.com/HarleyWylde

 

 

Rocky/Bull Duet by Harley Wylde #MCromance #boxedset #olderhero #MayDecember #bikerbooks @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

Rocky/Bull Duet (Dixie Reapers MC Box Sets 2)

Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

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.

 

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Praise for Rocky

“Every bit of the book is interesting and it keeps getting better and better with every book in the series. Mara and Rocky has an instant chemistry. With every interaction between them, the relationship deepened and [the] chemistry got better. It had enough action, romance and all things naughty to keep me completely engaged.”

— 5 Stars from Sorrel, Long and Short Reviews

Praise for Bull

“I really enjoyed seeing Bull get his happily ever after… I also loved seeing him with Darian.  Darian expects very little from others so I thoroughly enjoyed seeing the care Bull had for her.  I loved seeing her innocence and joy with each new experience. This story by Ms. Wylde is a joy to read.  I love the sense of family she has conveyed throughout this series.  And I can’t wait to see where she will take us next.”

— Titania, Manic Readers Review

 

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

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?

 

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