Friday, August 28, 2015

Hell on Wheels, Chapter One

Below, you will find the first chapter of Hell on Wheels, the sixth book in the Four Horsemen MC series. Just a warning, this hasn't been edited.

Hell on Wheels
Chapter One

“We have to shut Hades down.”

Axel gaped at his brother, Voodoo, as though he’d lost his damn mind.

They were seated in Hades at the moment, having coffee in one of the vinyl booths. The hotel and the attached diner were becoming a lucrative business for their club, the Four Horsemen. People were even coming in from nearby towns to eat there mostly due to Voo’s mad skills in the kitchen.  He’d trained to be a chef in New Orleans and he was the proprietor at Hades. 

“And why the fuck would we do that?”

Voo looked left and then right before he spoke, which was odd since they were alone. The diner hadn’t even opened for the day. “We have a ghost.”
Axel frowned.
Every one of the brothers had a quirk. Shep was irritatingly intuitive, Steele loved the ladies, Cap had a thing for punk rock. And Voo, well, he had a strong belief in the supernatural probably from being born and bred in New Orleans. It was in the air down there.

Axel personally thought it was a bunch of horseshit, but he wouldn’t knock a brother for his own belief system. If it was real for Voo, than he’d have to handle it that way.  But that didn’t mean he’d allow one of club-owned properties to be shut down either.

He decided to play along, because why the hell not? He slowly perused the room. Nope, nothin’ creepy here. In fact, everything was the same – black and white checkered floors, Texas memorabilia on the walls, and the 1956 Wurlitzer jukebox which currently blasted Superstition by Stevie Wonder.


“And do you see it now?” he asked, raising a brow.

With a sigh, Voodoo folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in the booth.

 “Mais non.”

Oh, fuck. Voodoo only brought out the accent when he was pissed. Or when he was tryin’ to make time with a woman. Ladies love the accent.

Didn’t hurt that Voo was easy on the eyes. He had skin the color of creamed coffee, short dreadlocks, and eyes that appeared almost silver.  He also had a penchant for duds that just screamed rock star. Like today, he wore a pair of jeans, his cut, and a leather muscle shirt. Axel had no idea where the fuck you’d buy a leather shirt. Maybe at some kind of sex shop?

And on that creepy note, back to the problem at hand.

 “Sorry, brother, I just—”

“It’s in the hotel. I’ve not sensed its presence here. Yet,” he finished ominously.

“You’ve seen it then?” Maybe what Voo needed was a trip to the nut house instead.
He shook his head. “Non, but I’ve sensed it.”

“Okay.” What the fuck did that mean?

Voo sighed. “Items have gone missing.”


“Food, wine.”

Axel blinked. “I didn’t know poltergeists get hungry and thirsty.”

“Perhaps it is a hungry ghost,” Voo explained. “Besides my grandmere said it is important to offer food and drink to the loas and they are mystical beings.”
Axel just knew he’d regret asking this. “And what’s a loa?”

Voo sighed, clearly irked. “We don’t have time for this. If you want, I can school you in the ways voodoo. But right now, I can take you to the room it haunts.”

Axel checked his cell. Not even six in the morning and he was already going on a ghost hunt. He gulped down the rest of his coffee. This felt like a job for Ghostbusters, not him. But since when had things ever been simple or easy at the MC? “Lead the way, brother.”

Minutes later, Axel ambled down the sidewalk with Voodoo at his side feeling like he’d somehow stumbled into a leading role in a bad episode of Scooby Doo. Even the weather was atmospheric. The wind was howling blowing prairie dust and a couple of tumbleweeds through the parking lot. 

It was mid-November in Hell, Texas, and the nights had gotten cool. Well, cool for Texas. It went down into the fifties at night and there was still a chill in the air. Axel had thrown a gray hoodie under his cut this morning.  The motel was one floor surrounded on all sides by a large parking lot so guests could pull up right outside their rooms. They were currently on the backside of the hotel headed down to the very last room.

They stopped in front of the last door. The glossy black plaque read Room 13.
Axel just shook his head. Of course it was Room 13. Voo handed him a little burlap sack tied with twine that fit into the palm of his hand. It had a pungent aroma…sage? Maybe a hit of Sulphur.


Voo believed strongly in juju, or magic and that it had the power to protect you or seriously fuck you up. Axel had been on the receiving end of little bags like this and some seriously creepy Blair Witch wind chimes as well. He usually shrugged it off, but apparently he’d be performing a real life exorcism at the moment.

Axel hoped there wouldn’t be pea soup. He hated that green shit.

Voo pulled the master key from his cut and unlocked the door, waving his hand with a flourish indicating Axel should go first. So, he stepped into the room and took a real good look around.

A big, fat nothin’.

It was a normal Hades room. Queen sized-bed, Formica table and chairs. Was he supposed to be looking for cold spots? Axel sighed. Well it was better than finding Carol Anne sittin’ in front of the television set saying, “They’re here!” in an ominous little kid tone.

Axel glanced at Voo. “I don’t see anything. What about you, brother?”

Voo’s was staring at the bed, eyes narrowed. “Listen!” he said, turning his head to the side.

Oh, fuck. Voo was really cracking up. Like he didn’t have enough on his plate already. Since Axel had become the club’s president, he had a lot of shit in bad need of doing and he really didn’t need to add another worry to the list. Their former president, Captain, had been voted out of his position and his brothers had nominated Axel and voted him in. It all happened so fast and he was still reeling from the job responsibilities.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know what it was like to be an officer. Axel had been the club’s road captain for years. But he had no idea that the presidency could be such a time suck. He barely had time to run his mechanic’s shop, Seventh Circle Motors.

Just as he was about to suggest a CAT scan to Voo, he heard a noise under the bed. It was a little sigh.

Axel stared at the bed. Oh fuck. Now I’m losin’ my shit, too. Fantasic.

Then, he heard it again. He stared at Voo and mouthed what the fuck?

Voo pressed a finger to his lips, indicating they should both shut their traps and Axel nodded. They walked to either side of the bed. Voo counted down silently on his fingers: one, two three.

And then they gripped the bedframe, intending to lift it up, when somebody darted out from under the bed and made a run for the door. Somebody real. Not a Casper.
Axel ran for the door, slamming into the figure and pinning it against the door. Whoever it was wore a pair of baggy jeans and black hoodie. He ripped the hood back…to reveal a tumble of honey-colored curls.

The Phantom of the Hotel Room was a woman. A real live one.

She whirled in his arms and looked up at him with enormous blue eyes. “Please don’t hurt me!” Axel put her age around mid to late twenties.   She was short, a little over five feet, with a heart-shaped face, olive-toned skin, and a full mouth. But she wasn’t beautiful. No, that wasn’t the word.  She was pretty, cute, a girl next door type. Not a stick figure either. She had hips and breasts, and while she might be short, she was all woman.

Where the fuck had that come from?

Axel mentally shook himself.  Maybe he’d gone far too long without getting laid. He shouldn’t be standing there pondering her breasts and thighs for fuck’s sake.
His chivalrous instincts kicked in a bit late and he automatically backed off, putting a good foot between them and held his hands up. “No one’s going to hurt you, I promise. Tell me your name.”

Voo walked up beside him and Axel flinched. He’d forgotten Voo was even in the room for a moment.

She chewed her lower lip for a second looking up at him with a furrowed brow and then nodded, as though deciding something. “Charlie Nash.”

“Charlie? You don’t look like a Charlie.” Axel couldn’t help but look her up and down again. She was unmistakably female.

“Charlene,” she said, a flash of annoyance in her bright eyes. “But everyone calls me Charlie.”

“Well, Charlie, my name is Axel and that’s my friend over there is Voodoo. He owns the hotel. Why don’t we have a chat?”  he asked, heading to the table, “why are you squatting in our hotel?” He pulled out a chair for her and she hesitated before sitting down in it. Voo sat down in the other one, while Axel perched on the bed.
She stared at her lap, her hands were neatly folded on her thighs and then she glanced up at him, eyes impossibly wide and glittering with unshed tears. “I’m sorry.  I needed someplace to hide.”

“Hide from who?” Voo asked, brow furrowed.

Axel glanced at him and his brother watched her with a frown. Like their VP, Voo had an uncanny ability to read people. It was almost supernatural. Though, Voo didn’t do it for the good of the club the way Shepherd did. Shep vetted potential old ladies and guided each new crop of prospects, so his sixth sense came in handy. But Voo used his instincts for his own amusement.

“My ex-boyfriend. He’s violent,” she said smoothly. “I’ve been running from him.”
Hmm. He didn’t know whether to believe her or not. “What’s his name?” Axel asked.

Charlie started to tear up again and she swiped at her eyes with a knuckle. “Please, I can’t talk about it. I’m sorry.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Axel had been raised by a single mother, because his father had gotten tossed in jail when he was a kid. And he loathed seeing a woman crying. Couldn’t stand it. He handed her the handkerchief he kept tucked in his back pocket. Because he hadn’t been to work yet today, it wasn’t stained with motor oil yet.

“We can help you,” Axel said.

The Four Horsemen specialized in Asshole Be Good cases. They’d taken on child molesters, rapists, child support dodgers, and the occasional murderer. They had a way of making bastards see the error of their ways and collected a hefty fee from the dicks in the process, which the Horsemen shared with the people they helped.
And while they’d recently gotten mixed up with Byron Beauregard, a bootlegger and Dixie Mafia associate, they were determined to hold on to their wrong-righting roots.

Voo drew his brows together as he glanced at Axel. He hadn’t been moved by the tears. “If you really need help.”

She blotted her eyes with the hankie and then hiccuped.  Charlie placed a hand over her mouth. “Excuse me,” she muttered.

No one could fake a physical response like that. This woman had to be in some sort of trouble.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. “I’ll just get my stuff and go.” Charlie crossed to the bed and grabbed a large gym bag from beneath it. She hefted it over her shoulder and headed for the door.

Voo grasped her elbow and hauled her backwards. “We didn’t say you could go. You’ve been stealing from me, from the MC, for weeks.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I was afraid if I registered with the front desk, there’d be a record. My ex…he’s been stalking me. And he’s gotten good at it. I’ve been forced to use cash, not plastic. I try not leave a trail, but he still finds me.”

“Yet, you’ve been here for weeks. If you were scared, you’d be running,” Voo insisted.

Tears came to her eyes again and she pulled her arm from his brother’s grasp. “I know, I just needed to rest. I’m so tired of running, hiding.” Charlie started to dig in her bag.

Voo went for his gun. “Slowly!”
"She isn't a threat. Lower your weapon,” Axel ordered.

Voo did, but he never took his eyes off Charlie. “I don’t trust her.”

She pulled out a battered leather wallet, holding it close to her as though she thought they’d steal it. “Easy there, big fella. I’m just going to pay you. How much do I owe?”

 It was a billfold, the kind a man tucked in their back pocket, slim and no frills. In fact, it looked a lot like the one he owned. Women tended to go for larger jobs with attached change purses and pockets for credit cards, photos, and sundries.  
Axel glared at Voo for making her pony up the cash, but said nothing. After all, Voo ran Hades and he didn’t want to interfere in his business. But they’d have some words later. The talk would be centered on how to treat a lady.

Voo ignored him and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes, we will. Let’s see. We’ve had missing food and wine, and you’ve been here about three weeks. We’ll call it even at a thousand dollars.”

Strange. He’d had a stack of fifties, too.

Charlie grimaced, but she slipped a little stack of fifty dollar bills from the wallet and slapped them into his palm. “There. That’s five hundred and fifty. I’ll get the rest from my…other wallet.”

She started to sort through the bag again and that’s when he saw the ATM logo on the front pocket of the billfold in her hand. It was unmistakable. The A and M were smaller than the T between them and stamped into the leather.  He’d gotten the Texas Texas A & M wallet just like that from his mom when he’d been in high school, back when he had delusions of leaving this outlaw life behind him.

Holy fuck. Had she just stolen the wallet? Axel groped his own ass and sure enough his back pocket was empty.

Meanwhile, she’d handed Voodoo the rest of the cash and was waltzing out the door, free and clear. Axel raced over and slammed a palm against the door, before she could thrust it open.

“Hey!” she said, glowering up at him.

Axel towered over her. He probably had a good foot and half on her and he shifted a bit closer to make her uncomfortable.  “Aren’t you forgettin’ something?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Like what?”

“Like Voo’s wallet. I figured you’d want a matching set, since you already lifted mine.”

Her eyes widened.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a really bad liar,” he drawled, even though he’d bought her innocent act. He glanced at Voo who wore a smug sort of told you so expression.

Charlie, if that was her real name, stared up at him and he could practically see the calculations in her eyes, wondering if she could get away with it, no doubt.
Finally, her façade cracked and she smirked. “Actually, I’m a great liar and you bought nearly everything I said. I shouldn’t have used your wallet. It was too cocky.” She sighed. “So what happens next? You gonna call the po po on me?”

“Afraid not, darlin’. You done pissed off the wrong kind of men. Tie her to the chair,” he ordered Voo and then turned to her. “You’re about to tell me every damn thing I want to know.”

Monday, August 24, 2015

Broken Play by Samantha Kane

Broken Play
Birmingham Rebels # 1
By: Samantha Kane
Releasing September 1, 2015 

Perfect for fans of Shayla Black and Lexi Blake, the deeply sensual new Birmingham Rebels series introduces an unforgettable team of chiseled football gods—and the daring, provocative games they play behind closed doors.

Birmingham Rebels offensive linemen Beau Perez and Cass Zielinski are inseparable, on and off the field. Cass, the captain with the cowboy swagger, is a loose cannon. Beau, the veteran tight end, is cool under pressure. And ever since they were caught on tape in a steamy threesome, their exploits have fueled more than a few tabloid headlines—and naughty fantasies.

Marian Treadwell knows all about the video. And now that she’s the Rebels’ new assistant offensive coach, she can’t look at Beau and Cass without picturing their hard, naked bodies—with her pressed in between. Marian would like nothing more than to indulge those impulses, but she knows better than to get too close to her players, a bunch of adrenaline-fueled alpha males who don’t always follow the rules.

Just the thought of sharing the gorgeous yet guarded Marian drives Cass wild. At first, Beau isn’t sure she’s right for them . . . and lately, all he desires is a little alone time with Cass to explore their new intimacy. But it’s only a matter of time before Cass breaks through both of their defenses. Because when seduction is the game plan, he always plays to win.

Broken Play is intended for mature audiences.

Goodreads Link:

Goodreads Series Link:

Buy Links:  Amazon | B & N | iTunes | Kobo

Author Info
Samantha Kane lives in North Carolina with her husband and three children, two boys and one girl. With a master’s degree in American history, she spent seven years as a high school history teacher before becoming a full-time writer and mom.

Author Links: Website | Facebook | Twitter | GoodReads

Excerpt 1
There were days when you owned the world, and days when the world chewed you up and shat you out. Cass Zielinski, center for the redheaded stepchild of the National Football League, the Birmingham Rebels, had woken up thinking it was going to be the latter. First meeting after the draft, after a dismal second season and their complete and utter failure to make the play-offs, he’d expected some trash talk thrown his way and the offensive-captain patch to get ripped off his jersey. Instead he sat staring at the prettiest coach’s assistant he’d ever met, while the Rebels’ head offensive coach, Mike Richards, gave the traditional “This Is Our Year” opening speech. The speech wasn’t quite polished yet, but there were only four of them at the meeting, so he had time before trying to bullshit the rest of the team.

“Hat.” At the sound of the whispered word, Cass looked over at his best friend, Beau Perez. Beau gestured to the hat on the table. It was sitting right in front of the new assistant, and she couldn’t put her armful of papers down. “Hat,” Beau whispered again.
Cass clumsily yanked the cowboy hat off the table. He grew up in Texas, where people made room for hats on the table when there was nowhere else to put them. “Sorry, ma’am,” he said politely to the new assistant, who was staring at him. Marian, her name was Marian.
She blushed and smiled nervously, then looked away as she set her papers down at last. Damn, she was pretty. She had long, straight blond hair, part of it pulled back in some sort of professional-looking style, leaving the rest to hang down her back. Under the harsh lights, it shone brightly against the dark blue of her suit jacket. She was buttoned up like it was Sunday. He could still tell she was fit, long and lean and athletic. When they’d shaken hands she’d reached his chin in her low-heeled shoes. He was six four, so he guessed she was about five seven. Tall for a woman. She had a light tan to her skin, as if she spent time outdoors, not in a tanning bed. She made him think of those sexy beach-volleyball babes. Mike had told them she’d worked at a small Division III college in the northeast before coming to Birmingham.

Beau pinched his arm and he jerked away, glaring at him. “What?” he mouthed.
Beau wasn’t a captain, but where Cass went, Beau followed. It was part of the deal when they’d signed. Beau gestured toward Mike with his head, frowning.

Beau looked damn scary when he was frowning. He was six-six, with hair so dark it looked black. He had that sort of coppery skin Mexicans had, pretty and soft-looking. Not that Beau looked soft. His face was all angles, his nose broken a time or two, his neck as thick as pretty Marian’s thigh, Cass would bet. Beau’s mouth was fierce and wide, with thin lips, but he had a sharp indent above, making his upper lip bow. Cass jerked his gaze away from Beau’s mouth. Beau was looking at him, exasperated, and rolled his eyes at Cass. He looked like an exotic Hulk, but his brown-gold eyes full of laughter ruined the comparison. Beau got those pretty eyes and skin tone and hair color from his mama. Cass had met her. His daddy was some handsome stranger who had some fun and disappeared. According to Beau’s mom, he’d been tall and rugged, like Beau. Too damn bad he’d walked away. He could have had a son in the NFL.

“Cass? Anything to add?” Mike asked. Cass turned his gaze to the coach, who was standing there, arms crossed, his expression clearly showing he knew Cass hadn’t been paying a damn bit of attention. Mike was in his late forties, and with his short, graying hair he looked every inch the suburban dad who shuttled his kids to football and soccer practice and mowed the lawn every Saturday. In truth he was a workaholic who’d been divorced twice and had no kids. He paid someone else to mow the lawn of the house he barely saw.

“Nope,” Cass said, covering, frowning and nodding his head as if he knew what was going on. “Not right now. I think you said it all. I may have something after we talk.” Nice way to make a good impression on the front office, Cass thought, mentally kicking himself in the butt.
“I’ll just bet you will,” Mike said sarcastically. “You know we drafted a good running back in Tom Kelly,” he went on, getting down to business. “We traded for two second-round picks next season, as well. We’re still building this team.”
They sure as shit were. “Tom was a mediocre player,” Cass said, trying not to grind his teeth as he talked. Beau had told him that pissed people off. “And we got Danny Smith in the trade. We didn’t need two new running backs. We had a chance to grab Taylor Reutsch when he went free agent, instead.”
“Reutsch wasn’t a good fit for this team,” Mike said stiffly. “We discussed this.”
“And I disagreed,” Cass reminded him.
“Marian convinced me Tom’s stats indicated he had more potential than what we saw while he was at Nebraska. Their system didn’t work for him. Ours will. It’s done.” Mike’s tone indicated the topic was dead.
Cass glared across the table at Marian Treadwell. He’d underestimated her, obviously. She was more than a pretty face. And she was messing with his team.

“I’d be glad to go over his stats with you and explain why I encouraged the team to acquire him,” she said with a polite smile. There was nothing weak about her demeanor. He liked that. Liked that she spoke to him like an equal and clearly expected the same from him. Her offer was an olive branch. Cass recognized it. She wanted to stay. Cass had the power to make or break her here. He knew it. She knew it. The whole damn table knew it. But she wasn’t begging.
“Sure,” he said, with a stiff smile and a nod. “That would be good. But Reutsch—”
“Reutsch is a pig,” Mike said, cutting him off with a curl of his lip. “I told you to trust me, Cass. I know what I’m doing.”

“I heard that about Reutsch, as well,” Marian said. “I don’t like to give credence to rumors, but these were too prevalent to ignore. I didn’t feel that, personalitywise, he would fit in here.” She was cautious, but still exuded confidence with each word she spoke. It turned him on. He was surprised by his interest in her because normally he didn’t poach in team territory. But damn, she was going to be hard to resist.

My Review

I liked this book.  It's well written and sexy as all get out. The sex scenes were definitely hot and the backdrop of football is interesting in a manly, bonding sort of way.  I love books that give us a peak at male spaces like biker clubs, the military, and Beau was the character who stood out to me and the one I was really interested in.  I was a little iffy on Cass, I'm a fan of M/M romance and this did a good job. Menage stories are difficult and its hard to give all the relationships involved its due.  I also had a technical issue with the review copy as it was jumbled and not formatted correctly...which made reading a lot of effort and made my eyes cross occasionally.  

My Rating: 3 Coffee Cups

Wednesday, August 5, 2015

Promo Post and Giveaway: Collide by Charity Parkerson

Book Blurb:

Shayne thinks he has nothing left to lose…

On his way home after losing his job, Shayne’s bad day goes further downhill when a truck slams into him. The sexy man who pulls him from the wreckage, seeing him at his lowest, is either the best or worst thing to happen Shayne in a long time.

Challenge accepted…

While Lincoln feels guilty for totaling Shayne’s car, he can’t regret having met the man. Something about Shayne calls to him on a new level and brings out a side in him even Lincoln can’t explain.

When these two opposites collide it’s only a matter a time before one falls.

Shayne’s first love will always be hockey. With the out-of-work goalie on the hunt for a new team, Lincoln knows their time together is short-lived. It’ll take a veteran player to sneak past the guard on Lincoln’s heart, but Shayne is up for the fight.

**Author note**

Collide is the introduction to my new male/male romance series, Hard Hit.

About the Author:

Charity Parkerson is an award winning and multi-published author with Ellora's Cave Publishing, Indie Publishing House LLC, and Punk & Sissy Publications. Born with no filter from her brain to her mouth, she decided to take this odd quirk and insert it in her characters. 

*Winner of 2, 2014 Readers' Favorite Awards
*2015 Passionate Plume Award Finalist 
*2013 Readers' Favorite Award Winner
*2013 Reviewers' Choice Award Winner
*2012 ARRA Finalist for Favorite Paranormal Romance
*Five-time winner of The Mistress of the Darkpath

Giveaway:  a Rafflecopter giveaway

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Review and Giveaway: Bind me Before you go


(July 21, 2015,  Entangled Publishing)

Goodreads link:

A sexy category romance from Entangled's Brazen imprint...
His heart is bound tighter than the bondage he craves...
Determined to put her past behind her, Cassidy Peyton moves to the Big Apple. But New York has a few dark secrets of its own, including Serve, an exclusive BDSM club. It's a place she isn't sure she's ready for, until she sees him watching her. Hot. Intent. Knowing. With eyes that leave her stomach tied in knots, because the loneliness he's trying to hide matches her own.
Security expert David Cavill has more secrets than any man should. Secrets that forever shut down any possibility of love, marriage, or family. Yet Cassidy draws him in, an intoxicating combination of strength, candor, and sensuality that David can't resist. But as their bond deepens, Cassidy must decide if she can love a man whose heart is bound tighter than the form of bondage he craves...

Barnes & Noble:
Harper Kincaid's Bio:
A woman with the heart of a revolutionary,
The mind of a pragmatist,
And the inappropriate humor of your tipsy BFF...

Born in California and raised in South Florida, I've moved around like a gypsy with a bounty on my head ever since. Along the way, I've worked as a community organizer, a professional matchmaker, an art teacher, a popular blogger, and a crisis counselor (to name a few). All the while, longing to have the guts and follow-through to do what I really wanted: to write and become a published author. That wish has finally come true and I am tickled pink with glitter over this good piece of fortune.

What else? Hmm...I love indie, lo-fi, complaint rock played on vinyl, wearing black because it's slimming, the theater, well-informed optimism, happy endings (both kinds),and making those close to me laugh 'til they snort. I'm a self-admitted change junkie, loving new experiences and places, but have now happily settled in the cutest lil' town, Vienna, Virginia. I totally love hearing from readers so stalk me via social media or email me at!



My Review:
I love the Serve series! I enjoy a good bdsm romance and this book definitely held my interest.  I fanned myself while reading this one. The love scenes are hot and sexy. David is a secretive, brooding hero and I found myself falling for him, too. This was a sizzling, fast-paced read and I enjoyed every minute of it.

My Rating: Four Coffee Cups

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Damanged & Dangerous Cover Reveal

Title: Damaged & Dangerous
Series: The Sacred Hearts MC VI
Author: A.J. Downey
Release Date: September 27, 2015

She’s Damaged…
Dani Broussard never imagined that her life would turn out like this. She always thought that her grandfather would be there for her into adulthood and that her high school sweetheart, Jared, would be the man she would marry. That isn’t what happened though. Instead, her grandfather got sick and passed away before Dani saw the age of nineteen. It was just her and Jared until he hooked up with a local MC, The Suicide Kings… Then it was just her. Pig-Pen claimed her body, rules her life, but he would never hold her heart. Kept because of her looks and a particular set of skills unique only to her, Dani has been with The Suicide Kings for the last three years… three long damaging years. She hates it, all of it, the pain the humiliation, the fear… and as strong as Dani is, as clever as she can be, she is quickly finding that death may be the kinder, gentler option rather than live through any more of this hell.
He’s Dangerous…
Red-XIII is, and always will be, a Sacred Hearts man. But for now, he’s a Suicide Kings prospect. Tasked with providing intelligence on the King’s inner workings to his real club, Thirteen has been slowly, quietly and carefully dismantling the King’s operation from the inside out. The situation is dangerous, good thing Thirteen is a dangerous guy but even he can’t be everywhere at once and a couple of missteps have cost the Sacred Hearts dearly. Doubly determined to finish this with no more wreckage or damage to the SHMC, Thirteen is blindsided by his heart when he lays eyes on Dani. A pretty, little thing with long black hair and striking blue eyes. She slays him with one look from her damaged soul and now Thirteen has tasked himself with two missions… Take down The Suicide Kings and get both Dani and himself out alive.
For now those missions run parallel to each other but what happens if they ever end up at odds? The bigger question is, how can he get close to the VP’s Ol’ Lady as a Prospect and not get them both burned?


I finished cleaning the clubhouse all the while trapped in memory. I didn’t realize that I’d had company as I’d worked. As usual, he was there, parked on the end of the couch, boots propped on the old, scarred, garage sale coffee table, only this early in the day he’d forgone the beer in favor of a bottle of water. Another thing that set him apart as ‘other’, to the rest of the guys beer was bottled water.

I secreted a small smile in his direction and he secreted one back but we didn’t speak, we didn’t need to. Soon, Skid came around and our little private moment was in the wind but that was okay. I knew that I could or would never be with Thirteen, but having him around had become a little ray of light in an otherwise darkened room. Maybe it was foolish to hope or to dream at this stage but I couldn’t help but believe that with a guy like Thirteen around the club, maybe, just maybe things could get better.

“What you smiling about?” Skid asked me as he bellied up to the bar. I startled, had I been smiling? I glanced at the older biker and he raised an eyebrow under his faded black do-rag.

“I don’t know…” I frowned and flailed helplessly inside my head for a convincing lie, “I was just thinking about a piece I was going to try and create. I think I have all the pieces now.”

Skid chuckled, “It’s good to see you smile Rac. How ‘bout you get me a beer? One of them ones with the orange dude on the label.” He turned on his stool and started talking to Thirteen who had been grinning like an idiot behind his back but who quickly schooled his features into neutrality before Skid turned.

I rolled my eyes at Thirteen behind Skid’s back and got Skid the bottle he asked for, popping the top. I set it on the bar by his hand and he picked it up and drank, never breaking his stride as the two of them spoke bike. I was simply nothing more than furniture again which I didn’t like but at the same time was definitely the lesser of two evils.

Pretty soon Gordy, Pipes and Cooter came in from the front of the club and I was serving them up drinks when Pig-Pen and Griz made their arrival. The rest of the guys started to trickle in from the front or the back lot and girls started coming intermixed with the guy’s arrival. The party was in full swing the sky dark outside when Gordy swore and pounded his fist on the bar.

“God damn fucking son of a bitch!” he bellowed, looking at the lighted screen on his phone. Griz shoved down on the head of the strung out broad sucking him off and she choked, struggling.

“What is it now?” he demanded and let her up. She stood up disgusted and stumbled towards the bathrooms.

“Trouble!” Gordy declared, “But if we all go now we might make it, Ace and Deuce are holed up at the North West safe house, says Sacred Hearts have ‘em pinned down, four of ‘em.” Griz stood up and tucked himself back in his pants doing up his jeans.

“Boys! We’re goin’ huntin’!” he yelled. A cheer went up and I swallowed hard, Thirteen stood.

“Not you!” Gordy stabbed a finger at him.

“Take Coon to your place and keep her locked down. She’s our last bet on making any god damned money.”

Thirteen raised an eyebrow, “I live in a cabin with no electricity!” he declared.

“So fucking what!?” Pig-Pen called, “Don’t care if she’s comfortable, so long as she can produce. Don’t be god damned pussy over her pussy!”

Thirteen gave a shrug and I gathered my purse. The guys were all going out the back door to the parking lot where they kept their bikes I could already hear some of them firing up. Dredd and Flyer were chasing out the club sluts, which truthfully there weren’t many left hanging around since the club’s drug supply started drying up. I came around the bar and Pig grabbed me by the elbow, hard.

“You’re my bitch, so don’t be getting any ideas about spreading those whore legs of yers for Pretty boy over there,” he muttered savagely in my ear, his breath washing over me, a fetid mixture of whiskey and cigarettes with an overlay of just plain rot.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” I plastered on a fake as hell sincere smile, “I know who takes care of me,” I said.

“Damn right.” And as if to prove his point he shoved his mouth against mine and his tongue in my mouth all the while looking daggers at Thirteen. I gave little resistance. I didn’t want or need any bruises except the ones that were likely imprinted on my arm from where he gripped me, besides that, I’d learned a long, long time ago that resistance was futile and only hurt more in the end. Pig-Pen finally broke the kiss and thrust me in Thirteen’s direction before going out the door.

“You good to ride?” he asked. I nodded grimly. I just wanted outside so I could spit. Thirteen grabbed my coat off the hook in the wall behind the bar and handed it to me and I shrugged into it.

“C’mon.” he put a hand on my shoulder and made like he was shoving me in front of him out the door, though his grip on my shoulder was light, not painful. He put on his helmet and glasses sitting astride his bike. I put on the spare and with one final brave smile at Pig who was glaring at me and standing with Griz and Gordy I got on behind Thirteen.

Text Copyright © 2015 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved

Pre - Order Now

Amazon:  US ~ UK ~ CA ~ AUS

About The Author 

A.J. Downey is a born and raised Seattle, WA Native. She finds inspiration from her surroundings, through the people she meets and likely as a byproduct of way too much caffeine.

She has lived many places and done many things though mostly through her own imagination... An avid reader all of her life it's now her turn to try and give back a little, entertaining as she has been entertained. She lives in a small house in a small neighborhood with a larger than life fiancé and one cat.
Stalker Links
Hosted By: