Tag Archives: Action & Adventure

Emelia’s Soldiers Teaser Tuesday

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SciFi Romance, Action Adventure, Multiple Partners

Date Published: March 10 2023

 

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Tired of being taken for granted, Emelia Drake decides to confront her
latest loser boyfriend. Instead of the satisfaction she hoped for, she finds
herself caught in an elaborate and dangerous web.

Nick Cormac and Chase Turner seek to protect an innocent woman from the web
of darkness that’s shattered their lives. The survivors of dark
experiments and torture at the hands of a mercenary who wanted to create a
legion of superior soldiers, Nick and Chase are part of an elite,
highly-skilled group intending to stop the mercenary once and for all.

They know Emelia is too good for them and their world, but that
doesn’t change the fact that they want her. Will they be able to keep
her safe? How can they ever let her go?

Emelia's Soldiers phone

 

EXCERPT

 

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2023 Isabella Jordan

 

Emelia Drake’s heart dropped as she spotted Scott’s car parked
at a seedy-looking bar on the outskirts of the city. Amy, her coworker who
lived nearby, had mentioned seeing Scott’s very distinctive Camaro at
the bar several times lately. Emelia wouldn’t have been curious except
that over the last several days, she hadn’t had a lot of luck reaching
him. Once he explained his phone’s battery had died. Another time he
was out of range, working with some new client.

It had been a month now and she’d barely seen him. Emelia tried hard
to give him the benefit of the doubt, she really did. Scott was an
architect, and a good one. It was one of the reasons she liked having him as
a boyfriend, shallow as it was to admit. But who was she kidding? Scott had
cheated on her before. A couple of times. And the chants of “if he
does it once” from well meaning friends were really starting to get
old.

So, Emelia had gotten home from work, downed a couple of small glasses of
bourbon for courage, and decided to go for a ride. In her gut, she knew
she’d find him. She always did.

This time, though. This time she wouldn’t sit out in the parking lot
staring at his car in tears. She had no intention of driving away in shame
and waiting until he got tired of the other woman and came back to her. No.
Not this time.

Climbing out of the car, Emelia braced herself. She was going to look so
out of place in there. Here she was in her pencil skirt and blouse, kitten
heels and her hair up in a neat twist. Why hadn’t her dumb ass changed
clothes?

But she just had to do this. She had to face him down. Just once.

Because this was over.

Yanking open the door, she walked into a classic smoky barroom, filled with
rougher people than she normally kept company with. Emelia mentally shook
her head. What was Scott doing here? It usually pained him to converse with
anyone making less than a hundred grand a year and he was here?

Some old rock tune with a heavy bass blared above the din of conversation
around her. She tried to see if she could spot him there. She was
half-praying that she wouldn’t, that it was an incredible coincidence,
that someone had a Camaro just like his. She could go home, crawl into her
bed, and just hide  there for a day or two.

When her heel caught on a rough board, Emelia almost went flying, but
strong hands steadied her as she regained her balance. Turning, she glanced
up at her rescuer and just stared. Steel blue eyes met hers set in a truly
handsome face, all strong-jaw and nice lines with a scruffy beard and thick,
wavy dark hair that just touched his shoulders.

Damn. Why had she never come here before?

“Thank you,” she told him, truly grateful that he saved her
from making a spectacle of her self earlier than she intended.

“You okay?” he asked, his gaze raking her over.

Emelia nodded, looking him over, too. He was all muscles covered in denim
and leather and…

She needed to focus. Find Scott. You’re not here for the hot biker
dude.

“Yeah, thank you,” she told him with a smile. She left him
there, watching as he took a seat across from a blond who was even bigger
than he was and just as gorgeous. The blond’s eyes lit up with
amusement. When he caught her gaze, he winked at her.

Jesus.

When she reached the very back of the bar, she spotted Scott in a booth,
wearing a leather jacket she’d never seen before, with a T-shirt and
jeans. That was new. Snuggled up against his side was a very attractive
woman with a head full of flame-red ringlets, big green eyes, and
ruby-painted lips. She laughed at something Scott said, and he answered by
pressing a kiss just under her ear, nuzzling under her hair.

Emelia’s heart sank. Well, okay then.

Across from them sat a huge guy with a military haircut and his back to
her, so she couldn’t get a good look at him. Now what are you going to
do, genius?

It had been a mistake to walk in. Especially when she knew what she’d
find. Just as she knew she’d let him come crawling back to her when he
was done with the Julia Roberts wannabe.

And it was at that moment Scott spotted her.

His dark eyes widened. Shocked, he abruptly jumped up from the seat,
throwing the redhead off in a way Emelia would have found comical if
circumstances were different. “Emelia, what are you doing here?”
Scott asked in a not-so-steady voice. His eyes were glassy and red, and he
wasn’t entirely stable on his feet. He’d been drinking. A
lot.

Emelia smiled, wanting to come across as sassy and empowered but not quite
hitting that note. “I saw your car outside.” She jerked her
thumb in the direction of the bar’s entrance. “I thought
I’d stop by and say hi.”

“Is this your girlfriend?” The redhead was beaming at her from
the seat, her chin propped in one hand. “She’s so… sweet.
Don’t you think she’s sweet, Alex?”

The military guy glanced over his shoulder at her, his dark gaze roaming
over her in a way that made her cringe. Then he smirked at her.
“Yeah.”

Scott’s gaze shifted from Alex to Emelia and back again. Licking his
lips, he returned his attention to her. He looked nervous. Somehow, she
didn’t think it was because he’d been caught by his girlfriend
snuggling up to a redhead.

“I’m going to be out for a while tonight,” Scott told
Emelia. “Why don’t you go on home and I’ll call you
tomorrow? Yeah?”

Something was wrong. Usually when she confronted Scott about any of his
little side bitches, he’d be furious. That has been part of the reason
confronting him in a public place had seemed like a good idea. As pissy mad
as he usually got, in public he wouldn’t be able to throw things at
her or swing at her as he normally did. Not without risking someone would
get the police involved.

Now Scott just seemed… worried. What had he gotten himself
into?

Emelia nodded, uneasy. “I’m going to take off. Don’t
worry about calling me,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’m
good.”

The line was meant to mark her exit. Just as she turned around, a hand
caught her elbow. She looked up in fear as Alex rose from his side of the
booth, his grip on her firm. He was a big guy, towering over her. The smirk
he wore just made it worse. “So, does that mean you’re available
now, sweet thing?” Alex drawled, his grip tightening around her
bicep.

Emelia yanked on her arm to pull free. His fingers flexed. Now it hurt.
“Let me go, please.” Emelia forced herself to meet his gaze.
“Please?”

“Hey, man,” Scott jumped in at that point. “Hey,
she’s—”

Alex held up his other hand to cut him off. “I’m just going to
walk her out to her car. It’s a rough neighborhood. I just want to
make sure she’s taken care of.”

The redhead’s grin widened, and Emelia’s stomach dropped.
“I’ll be fine,” Emelia told him as forcefully as she could
manage.

Alex lowered his face, his dark, mean eyes glaring into hers. “I
insist.” Alex walked around her and then proceeded to pretty much drag
her away from the booth. A quick look back showed Scott just watching, with
his mouth hanging open.

Emelia struggled, trying to pull free. When the front entrance came into
sight, she decided she’d just start screaming. No way she was going to
let the man drag her out of the bar and do who-knew-what with her.

Abruptly, the man came to a halt in front of her, causing her to run into
his back. Something had surprised him enough to loosen his grip and Emelia
yanked back the moment she felt it, pulling free of him. As she made it
around him, she realized it was the blond man who’d been sitting with
her rescuer who’d stopped them. And while Alex whoever-he-was was a
big guy, he had nothing on the blond blocking his exit. The hot guy with
long, dark hair stepped in front of her, shielding her from Alex.

“You’re in our way,” Alex growled at the taller
man.

The man had sky-blue eyes, a strong jaw, and blond hair cut short. His
shoulders were as wide as church doors and his muscles had muscles under a
heavy, worn leather coat, shirt and jeans. He cut an intimidating figure as
his glare locked with that of the guy who’d been trying to drag her
out of the bar.

“I’m not blocking your way,” the blond corrected him,
tipping his head in Emelia’s direction.

She felt much safer tucked behind the broad back of the dark-haired man.
Her palms were pressed to his back and he felt muscly, too. Damn.

“She’s with me,” Alex told him, his voice low.

“You with him, sweetheart?” the blond asked her.

Emelia shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Guess that means she’s with us,” the brunet said,
grinning over his shoulder at her. “You with us?”

Emelia didn’t know these two anymore than she did Alex, but the vibes
she got from them felt much safer. She was willing to chance it.
“Yes,” Emelia said loud enough for Alex to hear.

Alex’s glare had her heart lurching in her chest. After a meaningful
moment, that intense gaze shifted back to the blond. “My
mistake,” he said, his lips pressed into a thin line. When he headed
back in the direction of Scott’s table, she released the breath she
hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

The two men waited until he was out of earshot before herding her back to
the booth where they’d been sitting. The dark-haired man seated her
between himself and the wall.

“How you fellas doing?” A tall waitress with curly hair smiled
at them as she stopped at their booth.

“A couple more,” the blond motioned to the mostly empty glasses
on the table before them. “What about you, sweetheart?”

Drinking was the last thing she should be contemplating but she was going
to need to calm down, to get her mind around what just happened. “A
Whiskey Sour, please.”

The waitress nodded. “Be right back.”

“You okay?” the blond asked, the concern in those bright blue
eyes seeming genuine.

Emelia nodded. “I will be. I think.”

“What are you doing here?” the brunet asked meaningfully.

She blew out a sharp breath. “Confronting a cheating
boyfriend?”

The two of them exchanged a look. “That was your boyfriend?”
The brunet jerked his thumb in the direction of Scott’s table.

Emelia shook her head. “I don’t know the big guy. Scott’s
my boyfriend. Was my boyfriend. He’s the one back there all over the
redhead.”

“Do you know the woman?” the blond wanted to know.

Emelia shook her head again.

“Well, sorry about that,” the brunet said slowly. “But
you might have bigger problems now.”

“Why?” Then she stopped, remembered how uneasy Scott had seemed
at her arrival. “He’s gotten into something he shouldn’t
have, huh?”

Again, the two men exchanged a look.

“You can tell me.” Her relationship was definitely over now.
Whatever was going on between him and redhead and Alex? She wanted no part
of that.

“Yeah, he’s gotten himself into something he shouldn’t
have,” the brunet went on. “Problem is, they’ve seen you
now.”

“So?” Emelia thanked the waitress who came back with the round
of drinks. “I don’t have anything to do with it.”

The blond held up a hand to halt their conversation until the waitress
left.

“You do if they think they can use you against him,” the blond
explained.

“Excuse me?” Emelia stared at him as she worked on her drink,
enjoying the way it burned into her stomach. “I don’t think they
missed the part where I showed up and found him cuddled up to another woman.
I told him not to call me. It’s over. Done. Whatever is going on there
doesn’t involve me.”

“It does if they think they can use you to motivate him to do
something they want,” the brunet continued. “Do you know
anything about them? Why he’s with them?”

“Are you undercover cops or something?” Emelia wanted to know,
fear creeping into her head. “Why all the questions?”

“We’re the ones who are going to get your ass safely out of
here, so don’t worry about it,” the blond snapped. “Do you
know anything about them?”

The impatient tone got her attention. “No, I don’t.”
Emelia forced herself to meet his gaze. “Scott’s an architect.
He’d been telling me that he was putting in a lot of hours with a new
client, a woman. He’s designing some sort of special building for her.
That’s what he told me. I really haven’t heard anything from him
for weeks, so I found him here and decided to confront him. Guess it
wasn’t my best idea.”

“You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time,” the brunet
told her. “I’ll give you that. What’s your
name?”

She looked from him to the blond and back, ultimately deciding that it was
in her best interest to be nice. “Emelia,” she told him.
“Who are you?”

“He’s Nick,” the brunet offered. “I’m
Chase.”

Emelia worked on downing her drink, trying to calm the riot of thoughts in
her head. She’d shown up to confront her loser boyfriend. His cheating
ways had apparently led him to get involved with some people he should have
avoided. What happened now? All she really wanted to do now was go home,
call in sick for the rest of the week and feel sorry for herself with more
bourbon and ice cream.

Something told her she wasn’t going to get her wish.

“Thank you,” she said after a moment. “Whatever’s
going on, you didn’t have to keep him from dragging me out of here,
but you did.”

Something like admiration lit Nick’s eyes and he nodded.

The brunet, Chase, sat back on the booth seat, wrapping an arm around her
shoulders. Emelia stiffened but she didn’t protest. “Can I go
home now?” Emelia hated the pitiful note in her own voice.

“Do you live close by?” Nick asked, scrubbing a hand over his
jaw.

Emelia shrugged. “I’m about three miles away. I’ll be
okay to drive.”

Nick shook his head. “I’m sure you are, but if he decides to
look for you, it won’t take him long at all to find you.”

Emelia’s heart ached in her chest. “Why would he? Apparently, I
don’t matter to Scott.” Oh, that hurt to admit. And come find
her? How insane was what they were telling her? They couldn’t be
right, could they?

Chase’s gaze locked with hers. “Doesn’t matter to them.
And Alex seems like the type of guy who’d make the most of his
mistake.”

Emelia didn’t mistake his meaning. What if he did come looking for
her? What could she do? Both men watched her reaction while her mind
reeled.

“Hey,” Nick got her attention, pulled her out of her mind.
“Sorry. Not trying to scare the shit out of you. Just trying to be
realistic. I’m sorry you stumbled into this, but you did.”

Whatever it was, it was real. She’d felt so uncomfortable at
Scott’s table when she’d gone back there to face him. Something
had been off about the entire situation. What if they were right? What if
she was in danger?

“We’ll keep you safe,” Nick told her…

 

About the Author

Isabella Jordan is the alter ego of an otherwise stressed out web designer,
programmer, and internet junkie. When she’s not trying to perfect her own
personal caffeine IV drip, she enjoys spending time with her family, doing
volunteer work, and writing. She loves creating new stories of all kinds and
chatting with readers and friends.

Isabella would love to hear from her readers!

 

Follow the Publisher on Instagram/Facebook/Twitter: @changelingpress

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The Canadian Beaver Lodge Assassins Association Virtual Book Tour

Action/Adventure

Date Published: November 30, 2022

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

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On a routine delivery, courier Jaxy Thrie must ferry a priceless
item—a Fabergé guardian angel once worn by the Empress Maria
Feodorovna—to a Russian heiress in British Columbia. Things get out of
hand when Jaxy loses the valuable medallion. He finds himself in fast
trouble with the Romanov Guild, who accuses him of theft. It falls on Jaxy
to restore the national treasure to the Royal Museum while dodging bullets
from a greedy band of robbers, the Mounties, and the Canadian Beaver Lodge
Assassins Association.

EXCERPT

“Where did those donut-eatin’ cops come from?” asked Jaxy, shifting into overdrive and spraying a rooster-tail of mud and gravel at the gawkers who’d come out of the pub to watch him blow through the traffic light. In the mirror, he saw a flashing cherrytop turn in while two others bore down on his tail. Coming upon a construction site for a winery expansion with earthmovers parked for the night, Jaxy downshifted, killed the headlights, cranked the wheel, and emergency braked into the graded area. 

The van skated over a film of black ice, clipped a skip loader, and caromed into a row of seedlings planted at the back of the lot. Through the hedge of sage and softwoods the van chomped its way to slam sideways against the winery’s aging barn. The muffled crash of magnum bottles prefaced the structural creaking, until a louder rumbling started, and a season’s worth of snow slid off the roof to bury the van under rotten ice from tires to bubbletop.

With his heart pumping triple-time, Jaxy set out his driver’s license and registration with fumbling fingers, and then meekly waited for the nightsticks, stun guns, and other state-sanctioned thuggery. For openers, they would book him for running a red with a stolen plate and an open container, followed by reckless driving and evasion, destruction of property, and instigating a bar fight under the influence of cheap rye. From there, they would move on to the more fascinating charges of drug trafficking and terrorism in cahoots with a Wild West Cowgirl, and the abduction and homicide of a Saskatonian Mountie. 

Blurry, bright searchlights streaked about. They seemed to be waiting for back-up before accosting a stewed fugitive, armed and dangerous in a van full of guns, drugs and dynamite. Jaxy hardly dared to breath lest, misreading his intention, they open fire. After twenty minutes, the deputies crossed the highway to beat about a bed and breakfast, then cut the spotlights, stopped shouting, and exited the scene. Dumbfounded, Jaxy held his breath for another five minutes, all the time thanking his lucky stars that a K-9 unit didn’t show, or they would have had him in their jaws before their paws hit the ground.

Panting for fresh air, Jaxy kicked out through the side door into a night of mixed blessings. The Dodge had taken out none but the smallest of shrubs, while the limber saplings and leafy shoots had rebounded, obscuring him from his pursuers. The avalanche of snow off the barn roof concealed the rest. With the rear dug out, he reorganized things. The Glenlivet bottle had rolled forward. In need of a nip to calm his jitters, Jaxy closed the back, came around to the side, and reached for the scotch.

“Jillian!” he recoiled, hitting his head, and breaking off the mirror. With a stomach still churning from the putrid stench and teacup ride, it took all Jaxy had to keep his dinner of oysters and ice cream down. A butchered body sat buckled behind in a scissor-cut miniskirt and poofy, polka-dot top. Blackened and mud-caked strands of hair held down by a watch cap plastered the once fine face. Tacked to the bloated torso a tagboard read, “Your Turn Jack”. 

In tortured agony, Jaxy brushed the clotted bangs aside and stared, not into Jillian’s eyes, but at the missing Mounted Policeman Pierre de Chavoie.

“Eee-yuck! Rory, you depraved animal!” shrilled Jaxy through alternating waves of revulsion and relief. After a refreshing jog around the winery and a hand scrub of snow, he backed up the van, forming a makeshift igloo where he dragged the Mountie’s decaying remains, burying it under the snow and ice. Then, up the vintner’s drive, Jaxy stealthily drove with lights off. A new parade of black and whites went screaming by. In the shelter of a pumphouse, he stopped to throw open the van doors to let the rancid odor fade while tuning in the radio. 

It did not take long to find a station buzzing of the near capture of Jackson Thrie in Totum, Washington, who, after a thrilling, high-speed chase in and out of side streets evaded law enforcers to inexplicably disappear on the edge of town. Evidence left at the pub sent the Klickitat Sheriff to a nearby monastery in search of the desperado.

“Side streets?” Jaxy looked up and down the empty roadway. “What side streets?” 

 

 

About the Author

Jerry Cripe

A lifetime resident of California, Jerry moved to Santa Barbara after
graduating from USC to work in the aerospace industry. Today, he designs
night-vision cameras for everyday use. In his free time, Jerry likes to
write and use his musical talent to compose original scores for piano and
guitar. After his first loves—song and storytelling—Jerry enjoys
hiking, spending time in the garden, and baking sourdough bread.

Contact Link

Website

Instagram: @jerrycripewriter

Purchase Links

Amazon

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The Canadian Beaver Lodge Assassins Association Blitz

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Action/Adventure

Date Published: November 30, 2022

Publisher: Acorn Publishing

 

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On a routine delivery, courier Jaxy Thrie must ferry a priceless
item—a Fabergé guardian angel once worn by the Empress Maria
Feodorovna—to a Russian heiress in British Columbia. Things get out of
hand when Jaxy loses the valuable medallion. He finds himself in fast
trouble with the Romanov Guild, who accuses him of theft. It falls on Jaxy
to restore the national treasure to the Royal Museum while dodging bullets
from a greedy band of robbers, the Mounties, and the Canadian Beaver Lodge
Assassins Association.

About the Author

Jerry Cripe

A lifetime resident of California, Jerry moved to Santa Barbara after
graduating from USC to work in the aerospace industry. Today, he designs
night-vision cameras for everyday use. In his free time, Jerry likes to
write and use his musical talent to compose original scores for piano and
guitar. After his first loves—song and storytelling—Jerry enjoys
hiking, spending time in the garden, and baking sourdough bread.

Contact Link

Website

Instagram: @jerrycripewriter

Purchase Links

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

RABT Book Tours & PR

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Stripes Teaser Tuesday

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Devil’s Boneyard MC, Book 12

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Action & Adventure

Date Published: 11/18/2022

 

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Melina — Men have never given me a reason to trust them. The Bratva taught
me men are brutal. Selfish. And take what they want. Death would be better
than tying myself to one ever again. Then a Russian biker swoops in to save
me. As much as I want to believe everything he says, how can I? I’ve
only known pain at the hands of men. I want him to be different… but
any hope I had died long ago.

Stripes — She thinks she’s broken. I see a survivor. A strong woman
who’s still standing despite what’s been done to her. It will
take time, but I’ll help her heal. Prove not all men are evil.
I’ll give her a reason to keep living. Never again will someone cause
her pain. If they do, they’ll answer to me. My hands are already
stained with blood. What’s a little more?

WARNING: Recommended for readers 18+ due to language, violence, and adult
situations. Stripes is part of the Devil’s Boneyard MC series and
contains darker content some readers may find objectionable. Stripes can be
read as a stand-alone story, even though it’s part of a series

Stripes standing book

 EXCERPT

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2022 Harley Wylde

“What intel did Wire send us?” I asked.

Gator shrugged, which meant he’d been as pissed as I was and
hadn’t paid close attention. We’d parked about a block away and
observed the place from a distance. I leaned against a building, smoking a
cigarette, in the hopes people wouldn’t be suspicious. So far,
we’d seen a few customers go in and come out not too long afterward. I
highly doubted they were getting their money’s worth.

“I wish Specter would show the fuck up,” I grumbled.

“We’ll be lucky if he does.” Gator scanned the area.
“Can I ask you something?”

“If I say no, will it stop you?”

He snorted and shook his head. As I figured. I motioned for him to go
ahead.

“Why did you agree to this? Breaking the woman out of there, I
understand. But letting them marry the two of you? Why the fuck would you
take a whore as your wife?”

I fought for control, knowing he was genuinely curious and didn’t
mean it the way it sounded. Otherwise, I’d have already put my fist
through his face. I took my time, trying to figure out how I could word
it.

“The woman in there didn’t agree to become a whore. They beat
her. Raped her. Forced her into that way of life. If we don’t get her
out, she’ll only suffer more. Grimm and the Dixie Reapers are
concerned the Bratva will try to take her back. Marriage is the only way to
protect her.”

Gator stared a moment before giving a slight nod. “Fine. As long as
they didn’t coerce you into this shit. I know how big your heart is,
Stripes, even if others don’t always realize it.”

I grinned and put out my cigarette. “Let’s get this out of the
way. If Specter shows, great. If not, we’ll handle it.”

Breaking into a brothel wasn’t exactly difficult. I’d expected
security, but I hadn’t seen a single man watching over the place. If
they’d had electronic surveillance, I knew one of the hackers would
have disabled it by now. We walked through the front doors and a woman, most
likely the madam, smiled at us broadly.

“Gentlemen, what’s your pleasure today? We can cater to any and
all of your needs.”

I curled my fingers into a fist, fighting to maintain control. I wanted to
rip this place to pieces with my bare hands. Instead, I took in my
surroundings. At a quick glance, I saw the frightened women nearby. A few of
them looked completely destroyed. They no longer cared what happened to
them, and the woman in front of me was the deadest of them all. Despite her
smile, her eyes were vacant. She was little more than a puppet. I doubted
she had any real control. The Bratva owned her, same as the other women
here. Her greeting us only meant she’d been here the longest.
They’d broken her long ago and had no reason to doubt she’d do
exactly as they commanded.

I didn’t think any of these women came here voluntarily. Someone had
possibly trafficked them. At the very least, they were being disciplined
like Melina. I didn’t want them to get hurt, which meant I needed to
be careful. And yet, I’d have to get my point across. The thought of
scaring them soured my stomach. But fear and pain would be the only way to
get their attention. At first, anyway.

“Do you want easy way or hard way?” I folded my arms. I
didn’t need them to know I was a pushover when it came to a damsel in
distress. With my accent, they might even think I had Bratva ties. And I
knew it was thicker than usual right now. Even I could hear the difference.
“I want Melina Romanov.”

 

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Deadeye Teaser Tuesday

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Bones MC, Book 13

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense, Action & Adventure

Date Published: 11/04/2022

 

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 Chloe — Manipulative on the best of days, my mother hooked up with
the president of a powerful MC. When he retired, she decided to give me to a
man I’ve never met. Guess she thought she’d  still be able
to keep her status if I became the ol’lady of the new president. I
have no idea what the men in the club are like and I’m not judging,
but they wear the 1% patch and I know enough about MCs to know that
can’t be good for a girl like me.

 

Deadeye – I’m a patient man. Pride myself on that. So when I
find a girl camping out under a rock watching the club, I camp out to watch
her. The more I watch, the more I like what I see. Before I can make her
mine, though, I need to find out why she’s here. No one’s more
surprised than me when she tells me who her daddy is. Except maybe her
daddy. Now I’m pitted against one of my own brothers. But the more I
get to know the spunky little minx, the more I want her. And the more I
realize I may have to kill my own MC brother and tear apart a rival MC
looking for the woman meant to be their new president’s
ol’lady.

Deadeye tablet

EXCERPT

All rights reserved.

Copyright ©2022 Marteeka Karland

 

Chloe

I was tired. So fucking tired. I’d only been on the run for five
days, but it was five days of backwoods hell. Finding the place I needed to
get to had been hard enough. Actually getting there without anyone seeing me
had been a feat like I’d never undertaken before. Still don’t
know how I managed it without getting hopelessly lost. But here I was.

The name of the club was Bones MC, Somerset, Kentucky. I’d walked all
the way from Jeffersonville, Indiana to find this place. Compared to the
club I’d come from this one was relatively small. But from what
I’d learned, they were very close-knit and incredibly dangerous.

I was currently hiding under a rock overhang just tall enough for me to lie
flat on my belly and watch the place. I’d covered myself with leaves
and sticks, camouflaging my hiding spot as best I could. So far, no one had
spotted me. If they had, they hadn’t busted me yet. I should have just
gone into the clubhouse, but I wanted to scout the place out first. If there
seemed to be too much shady shit going down, I’d just move on without
wasting my time. Or putting myself in a worse position than I’d been
in when I ran.

So far, there had been parties that got pretty loud and wild, similar to
what I’d seen at Iron Tzars MC. The guys at Bones partied hard, but
they worked hard, too. Beyond the large clubhouse was a neighborhood. There
were what looked like high-end, double-wide mobile homes, but also a
smattering of houses, with more going up. The two days I’d been hiding
out, I’d seen several of the club members working throughout the day.
If there were drug deals or arms sales going down, it wasn’t anywhere
near their compound. There were women all over the place, but none of them
seemed to be there against their will.

The weather was turning. Autumn rain was coming, if the sky was any
indication. It was cold and damp, and I had no desire to spend another night
under a rock. If I’d judged this place wrong, I was in trouble. Of
course, if I didn’t get some decent shelter soon, I’d still be
in trouble. I’d heard good things about this club in the community.
They might not be law-abiding citizens, but they weren’t so bad they
were feared by the whole city. I was counting on the reputation they’d
apparently worked hard to build. If Bones turned out to be a wolf in
sheep’s clothing, I was fucked, because I had nowhere else to go. And
the one man I needed to see here, the one man who could help me in a way I
could live with, had no idea I even existed.

Knowing there was nothing else I could find out without getting inside the
place, I decided to quit being a pussy and stop stalling. I stood, looking
down at my clothes. Having been outside under a rock for the better part of
two days, I was filthy. Probably stank too. There was a creek just below my
hiding place on the other side of the hill between me and the compound. I
could wash there and change my clothes before trying to get inside. If I was
lucky, they’d stop me at the gate and take me straight to the man I
needed to see. I could only hope he remembered my mother. If not, I was
probably screwed.

The wind had started to pick up, and there was a cold bite to it. I knew I
needed to hurry, but not bathing and changing clothes simply wasn’t an
option. If I came to their doorstep looking like a hobo, I was afraid no one
would take me seriously. Or, worse, tell me to get the fuck on before they
got rid of me.

I stripped, tossing my filthy, damp clothing to the ground. I kept the
long-sleeved T-shirt to use as a washcloth, so I didn’t have to
actually get in the creek. While it was still warm most days, the nights in
this part of Kentucky were chilly this time of year. Shallow water, like the
lazy stream here, had started to cool, making this bath seriously
uncomfortable.

I’d never done this before. Bathed out in the open. In fact, though
I’d lived in an MC for most of my life, roughing it wasn’t
exactly in my repertoire. I’d never been camping. Or hunting.
I’d been fishing occasionally but usually on a boat or a dock at the
lake. All I’d had to eat the last five days were some snacks I’d
managed to sneak out and a couple bottles of water I refilled every chance I
got. Now, I was cold, dirty, hungry, and so fucking tired I just wanted to
sleep for a fucking week.

“Well, now. What do we have here?” The lazy drawl made me jump
and cry out. I tripped and landed on my ass, my naked body on full display.
The guy smirked as he looked down at me, his big arms crossed over a
powerful-looking chest. His shoulders were wide, stretching the fabric of
his Henley, as did his biceps. He had a full beard reaching about halfway
down his chest. Cold, assessing blue eyes were fixed squarely on me.

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