Tag Archives: Jamie Targaet

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | May 6, 2025 · 5:00 am

Outcast Teaser Tuesday

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: May 9, 2025

Anya’s his captive, but she’s always been mine. I’ll burn
their empire to the ground to bring her home.

Anya — I never forgot Jackson — not when the foster system chewed us up
and spit us out, and not when I was dragged into the nightmare world of
Sebastian Six. Jackson was the one bright spot in my past, the only person
who ever tried to save me. Now, trapped as Six’s captive, I’ve
lost hope… until I see him again. Jackson isn’t just a memory
anymore; he’s a badass biker called Outcast. He fights the brutal
champion in Six’s underground ring, just to win a night with me.
He’s risking everything to get me out. This time, I’m not
letting him go.

Outcast — She was everything to me once. The only thing that ever
mattered. I tried to save her when we were young and failed. But when her
photo turned up on a soldier tied to a fake gun deal, I knew I’d been
given another chance. I tracked her to Louisville, to the syndicate, to the
monster who owns her. If she had been safe and happy, I would’ve
walked away. But she wasn’t. So I fought their champion in a cage
match just to get close. Now I’m running with her again — only this
time, I’m ready to kill anyone who gets in my way for her. No one is
taking Anya from me. Not now. Not ever again.

Trigger Warning: Outcast (Hounds of Hell MC 7) contains scenes of human
trafficking, violence, physical abuse, rape, and vigilante justice that may
be triggers for some readers. There’s also a strong alpha hero willing
to risk everything to save his woman.

EXCERPT

Outcast

Player scrolled through his phone in the passenger seat next to him,
killing time while they waited in the Jeep for the Red Scourge MC’s
soldiers to show. In the back, Crash sat silent, his usual restless energy
contained — for now. Malachai’s illegally modified rifles were tucked
in the back, behind the rear seats, ready for the deal. Snow and the twins
were positioned in the woods nearby, out of sight but primed to strike if
things went sideways. Everyone was in place and ready.

Well, the Hounds were ready. The other MC was new to this part of Virginia,
and the fact that they’d reached out about guns right away had sent up
an immediate red flag for Outcast. Now they were running late, testing his
patience as he ran through all the ways this deal could turn bloody if the
buyers decided to play dirty. Yeah, the club needed the money, but with so
many unknowns surrounding this crew, Razor had made sure they were prepared
for everything. Probably.

The late February sky loomed heavy with dark clouds as the wind howled
through the trees, whipping past them in the Jeep. Outcast killed the
engine, powering down his driver’s side window just an inch or two. He
was vigilant, keeping an eye on all the vehicle’s mirrors. He
listened, trying to tune out the sounds of the wind and the occasional
vehicle driving by on the highway behind them. For the meeting place,
they’d selected a remote area between Mercy and Oak Grove. Outcast had
picked it out — a stretch with no houses or businesses — in case things
went south.

Player shoved his phone back into the pocket of his leather jacket, his
attention now on Outcast. “You sure you’re feeling up to this,
brother?”

Outcast nodded, shutting down any chance of a drawn-out conversation about
his well-being. It was bad enough dealing with Deva every day, her constant
hovering after his recovery from the beating Victor Grayson’s men had
handed him. And where Deva went, Razor followed — especially now that they
were together. His club president was a hell of a lot harder to shake than
his sister.

“I’m fine,” Outcast said, and for the most part, it was
true. Mornings were rough, and by night, the lingering pain crept back in —
especially after a long day. But each day, it dulled a little more. Still,
the slow recovery gnawed at him. Pushing forty or not, he should’ve
been back to full strength by now, and the frustration of it sat heavy on
his shoulders.

“They’re here.” Snow’s rough whisper came over the
walkie talkie Outcast had positioned in the cupholder of the center
console.

Sure enough, a huge black Hummer turned off Route 221 onto the narrow dirt
road where they waited. Player pressed the button on the transceiver and
said, “Copy that.”

Outcast watched the other vehicle move closer. Player grinned at him from
the passenger seat, itching for a fight Outcast hoped they could avoid.
“It’s show time,” he said. Crash’s gaze met
Outcast’s in the rearview mirror, and he nodded.

“Focus,” Outcast told them, watching the Hummer rumble to a
stop on the other side of the road. He counted four heads but there was
plenty of room in that behemoth of a vehicle for more to be hiding. A bad
vibe twisted in his gut. Just now he was really fucking grateful for
Razor’s command that they take backup.

It was ten minutes until five, and Outcast knew the sun was sinking toward
the horizon, though the thick storm clouds kept it hidden. He slowly opened
the door and stepped out of the Jeep, the wind biting against his skin.
Crash climbed out at the same time, moving with his usual measured calm.
Player, on the other hand, damn near rocked the whole vehicle as he jumped
out of the passenger side, his boots hitting the ground hard. Moving too
fast for Outcast’s liking, Player strode around to stand just behind
him, his massive frame coiled tight, ready for a fight before one had even
started.

The smell of rain and the acrid tang of cigarette smoke from the four men
who exited the Hummer hung in the cold evening air. Outcast stood just in
front of his friends; his weight shifted casually and every muscle he had
tensed. This was far from Outcast’s first deal, but something about
this particular group set his nerves on edge.

Four men stood across from them, their faces partially obscured by the
fading light and shifting shadows of the storm. Their leather cuts were
crisp, their jeans too clean, and not one of them carried the rough,
road-worn edge Outcast expected from outlaw bikers. Something about them
felt off — like they were playing a role rather than living the life. And
considering none of the Hounds had ever heard of Red Scourge MC before now,
that didn’t sit right with him. Whoever the fuck they were, he
didn’t like the vibes they were giving off.

“Appreciate you boys coming all this way,” the taller of the
four drawled, lighting up a cigarette. Outcast recognized Hawk’s voice
from speaking with him on the phone. “Been hearing good things about
the Hounds’ hardware. Guess you need something to do out here in the
middle of Bumfuck, Virginia.”

Outcast nodded, holding Hawk’s gaze as the other man sized him up.
“Guess so.”

Hawk took another step closer, studying Outcast. A challenge. After a
minute, the man nodded. “Well, they were right about you. Outcast,
right? You got some cold, motherfuckin’ eyes.”

Outcast never took on personal comments, just waited, staring the man down.
Hawk, they were told, was a VP in his club. He had none of Snow or
Razor’s authoritative presence and his insecurities were as obvious as
a Halloween mask. Hawk squared his shoulders, but the slight twitch in his
fingers and the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot told a different
story. The man wasn’t as fearless as he wanted everyone to
believe.

Player smirked at Outcast’s side, his posture radiating confidence.
Towering over most, his broad frame made him an imposing presence — only
Beast outweighed him in the club. His voice was smooth, almost lazy, but the
edge beneath it was unmistakable. “Money’s what matters,”
Player said, flashing a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“If you’ve got that, we’ve got your hardware.”

Hawk nodded to the younger man standing to his left who pulled a thick
envelope from his jacket and handed it to him. Holding it up for the Hounds
to see, he said, “Here’s our end of the deal. Now, we’d
like to see what we’re paying for.”

Without taking his eyes off the Red Scourge soldiers, Outcast said,
“Crash.”

It was the cue for Crash to climb into the back of the Jeep and haul out
one of the two heavy plastic totes, each packed with rifles. He lowered it
to the ground, unlocking the padlock that secured the lid to the body of the
bin. Crash pulled out a sleek, fully-automatic rifle. Its dark wood grip and
black metal barrel looked ominous in the dim light. Malachai, the newest
patched member of the Hounds, was goddamned good at what he did, illegally
modifying weapons himself to make them more lethal. His skill with
high-powered firearms was one of the reasons the prospect had earned his
cut.

Crash moved with deliberate ease, stepping toward Hawk and extending an
unloaded rifle. At the same time, Hawk handed over the thick, bulging
envelope — supposedly filled with cash. The exchange happened smoothly. Too
smoothly. Outcast kept his eyes locked on the Red Scourge leader.

Hawk gripped the rifle, turning it over in his hands like he knew what he
was looking for. Crash, on the other hand, tore open the envelope and
thumbed through the stack of bills inside. Outcast caught the barely
perceptible glance his brother-in-arms shot him.

I fucking knew it.

About the Author

Jamie Targaet is the author of the Hounds of Hell MC. She’s anxious to
introduce you to this club of gorgeous, dominant men and the lucky women who
surrender to them. The ride is going to get wild at times, not going to lie.
But there’s thrilling action, scorching hot sex scenes, and all the
feels.

Jamie writes erotic romance for Changeling Press, a little fanfiction on
the side, and she’s an aspiring horror writer in another life. She enjoys
time with her family (including the fur babies). She likes good horror
movies and shows, emo metal and classic rock, and time spent in other worlds
writing and reading. She loves hearing from readers and is looking forward
to hearing from you.

Author on Facebook

Author on Amazon

Author’s Website

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

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Filed under Teasers

Tagged as Jamie Targaet, Motorcycle Club Romance, Outcast, Suspense

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | February 4, 2025 · 5:00 am

Razor Teaser Tuesday

Hounds of Hell MC (#6)

MC Romance

Date Published: 2/7/2025

Publisher: Changeling Press

She’s a spark I never saw coming, in a fight I can’t afford to
lose.

Deva — No Mercy Ink is my sanctuary, the shop I built with my brother
Jackson. But after a string of attacks leaves him in the hospital, I’m
left to defend everything we’ve worked for. That’s when Razor
storms into my life — intimidating, loyal, and maddeningly protective.
He’s everything I’ve avoided in a man, yet I can’t deny
the pull between us. But as danger closes in, it’s clear Victor
Grayson and his crew will stop at nothing to destroy us. Razor swears
he’ll keep me safe, but how can I trust him with my heart when my
survival demands I protect myself?

Razor — Leading the Hounds of Hell means protecting my family at any cost.
When Deva’s world collides with mine, she’s more than just a
mission — she’s a fire I can’t extinguish. Fierce, stubborn,
and utterly captivating, she’s determined to fight for her shop, even
if it puts her in Grayson’s crosshairs. But this isn’t just
about the club or Mercy anymore — it’s about her. The deeper I fall,
the higher the stakes. To win this war, I’ll have to face my past,
defend my future, and prove to Deva that she’s not just worth fighting
for — she’s worth everything.

Excerpt

Deva

Zipping the front of her coat against the bitter cold wind of January, Deva
Crane climbed out of her SUV. After slinging her backpack over one shoulder,
she walked from where she parked behind the building. She and her brother
Jackson had been lucky to have rented a space in the strip mall when they
did. Theirs was a corner shop in a gritty, historic part of Mercy. Dark,
graffiti-style art covered the outer wall of the building, perfect for their
vibe. Decades of imagery and symbols decorated that wall conveying
rebellion, strength, and transformation.

Deva and her brother, called Outcast by his biker brothers, had opened the
shop three years ago. She was damned proud of what they’d built. The
shop’s bold neon sign read “No Mercy Ink” in fiery red and
cool white. She liked the way the sign caught people’s eyes on gray,
rainy days, and the ominous light cast on the street outside at night. It
had been her brother’s idea to tint the windows, and it was a good
one. The lighting made the intricate tattoo designs they displayed there
stand out, giving passersby a taste of the artistry within while maintaining
privacy. A small wrought-iron bench sat out front under the old metal awning
with a bucket that served as an ashtray, finishing the exterior — an
invitation to rest, get lost in thought, smoke a cigarette…

Deva unlocked the shop to get started with her day. As she flipped on the
light, she smiled. Inside the shop was a weird mix of her style and her
brother’s, like an odd cross between an art gallery and an old biker
bar. The walls were painted in dark, muted tones of indigo and slate gray.
There were metal accents and hints of exposed brick lending an authentically
rough vibe to their studio. Framed tattoo flash, custom designs, and photos
of some of their best works hung on the walls.

The waiting area in the front had metal stools and a weathered leather sofa
bought from thrift stores. She placed their high-end aftercare products and
branded merch in a glass display case there. No Mercy Ink was stamped on
everything from leather jackets to T-shirts and trucker hats.

Their tattoo stations were further in, separated by worn steel dividers,
offering their clients a little more privacy. There were three stations. One
was hers, one was Jackson’s, and a third that she hoped to fill one
day with another hired artist. They just needed to get their profit margin a
little higher to finally pull that off. Each station had a tattoo chair, a
tool cabinet, and an adjustable lighting rig. The workstations were well
organized with tattoo machines, bottles of ink, and sterilized needles. The
presentation was important to her because it showed their pride in their
craft. Jackson usually kept his area bare bones, all except for a photo of a
phoenix tattoo that he kept there. It was odd because she was pretty sure it
wasn’t his work. Her station had warmer lighting and a few plants,
reflecting her creative style.

Her goal had been to work on paying bills this morning, since she had no
appointments scheduled today. Business off the street didn’t pick up
until lunchtime or after. But suddenly the door sensor triggered the low
rumbling sound of a chopper engine that Jackson assured her would be so
cool. At first, she’d begrudgingly tolerated it. Over time, she came
to love the rumble of the sensor. Still, Deva had to wonder who was
there.

It was a familiar-looking young woman Deva couldn’t quite place, with
long, red curls and big eyes who stood in the waiting area, looking more
unnerved than excited. Her dark winter coat reached her knees and had a faux
fur-lined hood that she eased back. A tattoo virgin? Deva smiled when the
woman’s gaze found her.

“Hi, there,” Deva said. “Can I help you?”

A flush of color brightened the young woman’s face — no one blushed
quite like a natural redhead — and she nodded. “Yes, I was hoping to
make an appointment to speak with Deva.”

“That’s me. And I’ve got a few minutes. We just opened.
Come on back.” Deva motioned for the woman to follow her, heading for
her own station. Motioning to the tattoo chair, she said, “Have a
seat.”

The woman’s green-eyed gaze took in everything before she sat down,
perching on the edge of the chair. The visitor’s emotions were
palpable, her posture hesitant. Deva waited patiently, giving her the time
and space to speak when she was ready. Whatever it was the young woman was
dealing with, it was obviously still haunting her.

“My boyfriend recommended you,” she explained.
“Axel?”

That got Deva’s attention. Axel was one of the twin enforcers of
Mercy’s chapter of the Hounds of Hell. The same MC her brother
belonged to.

“I know him,” Deva said. “My brother is Outcast. We
co-own this shop and we’re both artists here.”

A little of the tension in her pretty face eased at that. “Outcast
is… very nice.”

Deva laughed. “No, he’s not. He’s a quiet, broody
asshole, but I love him.”

The redhead smiled. “He is quiet and…” Shaking her head,
she held out a hand. “I’m Sadie Downing.”

“Sadie. Well, I’m honored that Axel sent you to me,” Deva
said. “What can I help you with?”

“I’d like to get a tattoo. To, um, cover something up.
It’s…” Sadie paused, drawing in a deep breath, then rose
from the chair instead, her movements deliberate. Shrugging off her heavy
coat, she draped it over the divider and swept her long red curls over her
left shoulder. With hesitant hands, she tugged her shirt off one shoulder,
revealing just enough for Deva to glimpse the markings. What little she
could see was enough to make her stomach twist.

With Sadie glancing over her shoulder, Deva asked, “May
I?”

At Sadie’s nod, Deva gently shifted the shirt and bra strap to reveal
the full extent of the damage. The words “Bobby’s Bitch”
were crudely carved into her skin, a brutal mark of ownership. The sight
infuriated Deva. The jagged, uneven lines spoke volumes — rage,
entitlement, and pain. It was a violation, both physical and emotional,
leaving scars that went far deeper than the skin. Just the thought of the
agony Sadie must have endured made Deva’s stomach churn.

Deva adjusted Sadie’s strap and blouse back into place with care.
Sinking into the chair, Sadie swiped at the tears spilling down her cheeks.
Deva reached for the box of tissues on the counter, handing her one. It took
every ounce of control Deva had not to cry alongside her.

“I’m… sorry,” Sadie said, her voice trembling as
she dabbed at her eyes with the tissue. “Axel thought maybe there was
a way to cover it up. It’s not that he’s bothered by it —
he’s actually been so kind. It’s just…” Her voice
trailed off, unable to finish, the weight of her pain and vulnerability
hanging heavy in the air.

“You want to reclaim that part of you,” Deva said simply.

“Yes.” Sadie nodded. “I’m sure that’s so bad
that there’s probably not a lot you can do but…”

“There’s plenty we can do to cover that,” Deva assured
her. “I get a lot of requests to cover old wounds and scars these
days. It’s a specialty of mine.”

Sadie’s eyes widened, flashing hope. “You can?”

Deva nodded and reached beneath the counter to retrieve a photo album. She
flipped it open to a specific section, her fingers brushing over the pages
with care. Positioning the album on her lap, she turned it so Sadie could
see the images through the protective clear plastic sheets.

“Most of these are cover-ups for cutting scars.” Deva gestured
to the first two pages, which showcased intricately tattooed inner forearms.
The designs were bold yet delicate, turning painful memories into something
personal, meaningful. “But not all,” Deva added, flipping
through the rest of the pages. The other photos featured stunning tattoos
covering hips, thighs, and backs — art meant to reclaim and
transform.

About the Author

Author Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Amazon

Author’s Website

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

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Tagged as Jamie Targaet, MC Romance, Razor

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | December 11, 2024 · 5:00 am

Crash Blitz

(Hounds of Hell MC 5)

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: December 13, 2024

Publisher: Changeling Press

She vanished once, leaving scars I can’t forget. Now she’s back,
hiding secrets I may never forgive.

Helena — Returning to Mercy was supposed to be a fresh start. As a
therapist, I’ve made it my mission to help others find strength, even
when I can’t always find it for myself. But when Crash walks back into
my life, bringing all the pain and passion of our past, I know this town
holds more than just memories—it holds secrets I can’t outrun.
He’s fierce, wounded, and the last person I thought I’d ever see again. And
while he’s still everything I want, he’s also everything I
should fear. Especially when he finds out what I’m hiding.

Crash — The Hounds of Hell gave me purpose when I had nothing but
rage. My loyalty runs deeper than blood—until they betrayed me. Losing
Perry, my only brother, has made me question everything I believed about the
family I chose. But when Helena returns, the woman who vanished after one
night and still haunts my dreams, my anger flares in ways I can’t control. I
wanted answers, and now I’m in too deep. She’s hiding something,
and whatever it is, it’s tied to the pain that put me on this path.
This time, I won’t let her slip away, even if it means facing demons I
swore to bury.

Excerpt

Sackett’s looked like a war zone. The usual warmth of the bar, with
its smoky air and dim lights, was replaced by the stark reality of the
aftermath. Tables had been overturned, chairs had been knocked on their
sides, and glass from shattered bottles and mugs crunched beneath his boots.
The usual hum of laughter and music had been replaced by the low murmurs of
tired voices, mingling with the sirens of the police cars that had arrived.
Flashing red and blue lights from the sheriff’s cruisers parked
outside flashed through the windows to light up the walls.

Crash wiped a smear of blood from his cheek — he hadn’t even been
sure if it was his — then leaned against the pool table, scanning the room.
A few Cottonmouths were still there, milling around like vultures looking
for scraps. A few looks were exchanged with the Hounds, sizing them up even
now. But no one moved. The fight had burned itself out.

The Mafia guys, Bianchi’s men, lay scattered across the floor, their
slick jackets and nice clothes torn and stained with blood, a sharp contrast
to the ruthless image they had carried when they showed up at
Sackett’s earlier. Now defeated, because the Hounds and the
Cottonmouths had beaten the living shit out of them, they looked smaller,
stripped of the power they thought they held over everyone else in the room.
Some groaned in pain; others were unconscious. A few remained still, beaten
beyond recognition. Their guns were kicked aside, useless once the Hounds
got close enough. The authority the New Jersey fucks once commanded was
shattered, replaced by the cold realization they had underestimated the
Hounds. The mistake cost them more than just pride.

The sheriff’s deputies walked into Sackett’s and moved through
the bar, talking quietly as they assessed the damage. Sheriff Sawyer stood
near the entrance, arms crossed, his eyes cold and calculating as he spoke
with the Hounds’ president, Razor. Crash could feel the tension in the
room still buzzing like a live wire — as though the fight wasn’t
really over — just paused. With the cops’ appearance, the
Cottonmouths started making their exit. Crash knew they were looking for an
excuse to start something again with the Hounds, but not with the law
hanging over them.

Glancing at the overturned table near the bar where the fight had started,
Crash shook his head. The place didn’t feel like Sackett’s
anymore, not with the stench of the Cottonmouths lingering and the deputies
keeping their distance like they also weren’t convinced everything was
over.

Of course, it hadn’t felt like home for him since she had
left…

The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and spilled beer.
Crash’s entire being was still wired for the fight, but he forced
himself to stay calm. Sackett’s wasn’t just a bar, it was home
turf. He didn’t like sharing it with the enemy and wondered why the
fuck Razor had allowed that to happen. His gaze flicked to the last two
Cottonmouths as they walked out, part of Baby Face’s old crew,
whispering amongst themselves. It was hard not to imagine how different
things would have turned out if that psycho were still alive.

Sheriff Sawyer’s voice cut through the haze. “We’ll need
statements,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. The deputies
started herding people into groups, separating Hounds from Cottonmouths and
Mafia. There were others there even though Sawyer and his men had no idea
how they were connected to any of it.

Crash was just grateful the shit was over. He was exhausted and pretty sure
he had a couple of broken ribs. He hadn’t seen his younger brother the
entire time and he wanted to know where the hell Perry had gotten off to.
Most of all, like the rest of his brothers, he wanted the Mafia the fuck out
of Mercy for good.

Not wanting to talk to the fucking police, Crash went out the back
entrance. The cool night air hit him, a balm to flush out the bloodlust of
the last couple of hours. Closing his eyes, he savored the moment, trying to
be still.

Out behind Sackett’s in the field was an old barn that had been there
as long as he could remember. Beams of light flickered around the inside of
the old structure, telling him someone was out there. Sheriff Sawyer walked
out of the bar behind him, walking past Crash and heading in that direction.
Curious, because he hadn’t seen the twins since the middle of the
fight, he decided to follow him. After thinking about it, he hadn’t
seen Snow or Hero since then either. Even though his body ached with each
step he took, he followed the sheriff. His injuries kept him from moving too
fast.

As he drew closer, some instinct stopped him, whispering he should go back.
What the fuck?

Crash followed Sheriff Sawyer out to the barn, his heart still pounding
from the fight. The adrenaline was fading, leaving only the weight of what
had just happened. The distant hum of the sheriff’s cruiser lights
flickered through the trees. The field stretched ahead of them, the grass
damp beneath his boots, and in the distance, the barn loomed — an old,
forgotten relic that suddenly felt heavy with meaning.

As he got closer, the shadows around the barn seemed to thicken, the
structure barely illuminated by the glow of the sheriff’s flashlight.
The door hung slightly ajar, swinging gently with the breeze, creaking like
something out of a nightmare. The air felt different, heavier, and every
step closer sent a chill down Crash’s spine. He stopped, a sense of
foreboding threatening to overwhelm him. Was it an aftereffect of the fight?
Was he tired enough for his mind to play tricks on him?

Hearing the sheriff’s booming voice pulled him out of his head. Other
deputies ran past him, darting into the barn. The sheriff walked back out
with Margot Donner. Crash fucking knew she’d show up. Yeah, she was
one of Sawyer’s deputies, but she also was with Ryder now. Perry told
him he hoped Ryder would broom her fast, like he did all the other girls he
went around with, but Crash defended her. Maybe it was because she let him
go without a speeding ticket one night… and he’d certainly
deserved it. As far as he could tell, Ryder was different with her. If she
made their brother happy, what the fuck business was it of theirs?

Margot walked back in. Neither Margot nor Sawyer saw him as he reached the
barn. Hero was walking out with Jade as Crash reached the entrance, and she
was in tears. Hero’s eyes widened in alarm.

About the Author

Author Contact Links

Author on Facebook

Author on Amazon

Author’s Website

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress

Pre-Order Today

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Filed under BOOK BLITZ

Tagged as Crash, Jamie Targaet, Motorcycle Club Romance

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | October 29, 2024 · 5:00 am

Ryder Teaser

(Hounds of Hell MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: November 1, 2024

Margot — I’ve loved Ryder since we were kids, but he’s never been the type
to stick with anyone for long. Being a deputy sheriff means I see the world
differently–by the law. He’s the opposite. The Mafia took my father
from me. When they return to threaten everything I care about, including
Ryder, I realize the line between right and wrong isn’t so clear. If
we’re going to survive this, I’ll need Ryder’s strength.
Maybe this time, we’ll face danger together.

Ryder — Margot’s been right in front of me for years, but I’m
the guy who never sticks around. Commitment? Not for me. Now she’s all
I see. When the Mafia comes after the Hounds, everything is at stake.
Margot’s not just a deputy sheriff — she’s the woman I’ve
always needed. The woman I love. I’ll die before I let anything happen
to her.

EXCERPT

Ryder

The next day Ryder smiled to read the text from Margot Donner.

Margot: If you still think Razor is okay with it, I’ll come see you
later today.

They’d become close after her mother’s death. She was the only
woman he’d ever kept as a friend for years and never fucked. Yeah, she
was a cop, but she was one of his favorite people.

“What are you grinning about?” Beast asked, shifting pillows
behind Ryder’s back.

Ryder wasn’t admitting to shit. He had a reputation to maintain.
“Just waiting to hear Axel got these fuckers,” Ryder told him,
groaning as the bigger biker hauled him up into a sitting position on the
bed.

“That’s it, huh?” Beast went over to the desk in
Ryder’s room at the clubhouse, lifted off a tray that held his
lunch.

Beast’s dark-eyed gaze was filled with humor. His muscular friend,
with his wild fringe of dark hair, towered over Ryder in the bed. Once he
situated the tray in front of Ryder, his beefy arms folded across the wide
expanse of his chest. The face of the dark wolf inked on his friend’s
forearm drew his attention with its sinister gaze.

“Maybe,” Ryder said, steadying the tray on his lap, shaking his
head. His MC brothers were still feeding him soup and applesauce. “Can
I get something solid?”

Beast shook his head. “Nah, you need to heal up.”

Ryder snorted. “I’m full of fucking holes. I’m surprised
this shit isn’t running right out of me the minute I eat
it.”

The chime of Beast’s phone had him fishing his device out of his
pocket. “Yep?”

The deep voice on the other end of the phone sounded like Hero.

Ryder tried hard to listen — he knew his twin brother was handling things,
especially with his girl in danger. Still irked him greatly that he
couldn’t be there to fight at Axel’s side. To have his back.
That had always been the deal between them. To always have each
other’s back.

As Beast listened to whatever Hero said, Ryder let his head fall back
against the pillows with a deep sigh. Alex, now Axel, had been born first by
seven minutes. A fact his twin had never thrown in his face, never used at
all. And Axel certainly earned the part of the older brother even though
they were identical. Axel could be counted on when Ryder needed him. If he
was hung over from a night of partying, Axel let him stay home and took up
the slack at work. When he got himself into the occasional fight, Axel
tipped the scales if he’d underestimated the other guy. Or came to
bail him out.

Ryder also had spent years watching his brother earn everyone’s
respect. His brother and Hero made all the business decisions for the
garage. When it came to dirty jobs the club needed doing, Axel was among the
first approached. Cool-headed and calculating, Axel didn’t miss a damn
thing.

Ryder didn’t command the same respect. He wasn’t disrespected.
And he got important jobs from the club. Okay, maybe Ryder wasn’t as
cool and calculated as his twin. But he was a good shot, a damn good fighter
with any weapon or hand-to-hand combat. And when crazy was called for? He
could do crazy all day long.

Yes, Ryder was a ladies’ man. Axel took comfort from the occasional
sweet butt although not to the extent Ryder did. He liked the ladies and
didn’t limit himself to the ones who came to every party fishing for a
Hound to claim her as his old lady. He liked his women fast and flashy, like
his bikes. Ryder appreciated a nice ride.

Unlike his bikes, he never stayed with any woman more than a few weeks.
“Love” was amazing the first few weeks. But as attachment tried
to take hold, Ryder felt himself being strangled by those thin vines of
commitment.

“It’s done,” Beast told him, ending the call.
“Sounds like a fucking free-for-all. Sheriff Sawyer got to the Mafia
guys first, then once our guys got there, Axel beat the shit out of his
girl’s ex. Probably the same fucker who shot you and killed Elsie and
Clyde over at Cowboy Pete’s.”

Ryder smiled. He knew Axel would deal with it.

“The guy dead?” Ryder asked, bracing for regret. It would have
been nice to put down the guy who shot him full of holes — or gave the
order — himself.

“Nah,” Beast told him. “Sawyer took him in.”

That could spell trouble down the road.

“At least Axel’s old lady is a little safer,” the other
biker told him as he wandered out of his room. “Until they let him
out.”

Axel’s old lady.

Everyone called her Angel but if he remembered rightly, her name was Sadie.
Was she his twin’s old lady?

Yeah, the way it started out, Ryder’d assumed she was some sort of
pity thing his brother had taken on. But weeks went by after she decided to
hide in Mercy, and his brother stayed close to her all that time. By the
time her ex and his men found her, yeah, he had to admit they’d felt
like a couple. The young woman looked at his brother like a knight in
shining armor. That wasn’t anything new. Ryder had seen that before.
His brother had a soft spot for women and kids.

It wasn’t until the party Saturday night when Axel brought her to the
clubhouse that it hit Ryder. The way his twin looked at her. Damn. He should
have noticed before. His brother had found love, and he knew next to nothing
about the woman except she’d been horribly abused by her ex and looked
at his brother like he hung the fucking moon.

Shouldn’t he know something about his brother’s girl? If she
was in Axel’s life, she’d be in his too. Hell, they’d
brought her to the clubhouse a couple of days ago to keep her safe. Ryan
heard her hustling around beyond his door. She never popped in to check on
him though.

Lying still with the pain bleeding vividly into his awareness, Ryder
reached for his pain meds, taking a double dose now that he knew his brother
was safe. His brother had saved his girl and beat the fucking bad guy. Axel
had to be feeling pretty good about things about now.

Ryder tried to shift on the bed to make himself comfortable, willing the
pills to take the pain away sooner rather than later.

He and Axel couldn’t have been further apart in life right now. His
brother was the conquering hero, setting things right for his girl and his
dumbass twin brother. Ryder went home with a girl, and she got shot in the
face, killed. Ryder got shot with her, providing the enemy with a weak board
in the fence. They had to take him out of the hospital to keep him safe from
the Mafia until Axel resolved it. Didn’t that make him a useless pile
of shit?

Before his eyes slid shut, his gaze fell on his phone. He realized
he’d never answered Margot, and he wanted to before he crashed.
Lifting the phone in his shaking hand, he read back over the
conversation.

Margot: If you still think Razor is okay with it, I’ll come see you
later today.

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1 Comment

Filed under Teasers

Tagged as Jamie Targaet, Motorcycle Club Romance, Ryder, Suspense

by Jennifer Reed/ bookjunkiez | April 16, 2024 · 5:00 am

Axel Teaser Tuesday

Hounds of Hell MC, Book 3

Motorcycle Club Romance, Suspense

Date Published: April 19, 2024

Sadie — I finally found the courage to escape my abusive boyfriend, but I
didn’t make it far. I’m holed up in a small Virginia town called
Mercy. There will be no mercy for me if my ex finds me. Thanks to Axel, the
gorgeous biker who towed my car to his garage, I have a place to stay and a
job at the town’s greenhouse. I also have the hope that I might have a
second chance at love one day, with Axel.

Axel — When I got called to tow a broken-down car to my garage, I found
the beaten and battered angel who owns it on the run from the devil. Here in
Mercy, with me, she’s healing and learning to live again. When her ex
figures out Sadie’s here, even his mafia ties can’t protect him
from me. His entire mafia family can’t take back what’s mine and
there’s going to be hell to pay when they try.

EXCERPT

Axel

It was a cold February morning. Alexander Harper had just sat down with his
first cup of coffee when his phone hummed in his pocket. When he pulled it
out and looked at the screen, he saw the call was from Cowboy Pete’s,
a local gas station just off the interstate.

“This is Axel,” he said, using the road name he’d been
given by Razor when he’d been a prospect.

“Hey, hon. How are you?” He recognized Elsie Damron’s
voice. She’d worked at the gas station since he was a kid.

“Cold,” he said. “What can I do for you
today?”

“A young lady stopped for gas a little while ago,” Elsie
explained. “She filled it up but now her car won’t
start.”

“You give her bad gas?” Axel asked, grinning.

“No,” Elsie said. “Well, I hope not. There’s smoke
rolling out from under the hood. Looks like it’s overheating to me.
Can you come take a look at it?”

“Yeah.” Axel knew the quiet morning was too good to be true.
Putting the call on speaker, he placed his phone on his desk, grabbing a tie
from his desk drawer to pull his hair back from his face. “Did you
already call Tyler? I appreciate the business, but it would be a lot closer,
and cheaper, to tow it to his place.”

“Yeah, I know,” Elsie said, her voice dropping to a loud stage
whisper. “But I think you would be better for this particular
situation.”

“Okay, I’ll head that way,” he told her.
“What’s she driving?”

“He’s going to come get you,” Elsie said to someone there
with her. To Axel, she said, “Yeah, it’s an older sedan. A
Lincoln, I think. What model year is your car?”

Axel couldn’t make out what the other person said.

“It’s a 2002 model,” Elsie told him.

“Give me thirty minutes,” Axel said, ending the call.

Taking his coffee with him, Axel headed back into the shop. His twin
brother Ryder was working on an SUV brought in yesterday. Ryder looked up
when he saw Axel approach.

“Where you off to?” Ryder asked.

“Got to tow someone in,” Axel told him. “I’ll be
back.”

When Axel reached Cowboy Pete’s with the tow truck, there were
several cars there. They had a halfway decent grill inside the station, and
it was a popular breakfast stop for town regulars and travelers alike. He
pulled into the lot and parked, heading in to have Elsie point out the lady
and her car.

Elsie grinned when she saw him at the counter. “Thanks for coming,
hon. She’s a couple of spaces down from where you parked. The black
Lincoln.”

“You bet,” he told her, seeing it in the window behind the
counter where the older lady stood.

“Axel?” Elsie called as he headed for the door.

“Yeah?”

“If I can do anything for her, you let me know, okay?” And the
kind older woman meant it.

“Will do,” he told her, curious now about what he was walking
into.

Axel returned to the tow truck, spotting the black Lincoln that was just
three spaces to the right of him with no cars parked in between. It looked
like someone was sitting in the driver’s seat. Walking up to the car,
Axel tapped on the driver’s window. The lady jumped in the seat,
startled. Axel saw a flash of red curls before she peered up at him through
the window.

Now Elsie’s words made sense. The young woman’s left eye was
black and almost swollen shut. Her nose was swollen and bruised, her lip
split. Someone had beat the fuck out of this little lady. Slowly, she opened
the door and got out of her car. Her careful movements told him her face
wasn’t the only thing that hurt her this morning. Axel stepped back to
give her room as she closed the door and leaned back against it.

The way she wrapped her arms protectively around herself and the fear in
her green-eyed gaze had him pausing. Now he knew why Elsie called their
garage. Tyler wasn’t a bad guy, but he was gruff and lacking in most
social niceties.

This young woman before him looked like she’d been through hell and
was expecting more.

“Hi there,” Axel said. “Elsie called me to come look at
your car. What’s going on?”

“It overheated I think,” she said quietly. “I was okay
for a couple of hours. But then it would heat up and it would start smoking.
I would stop and let it cool off. I stopped here to get gas and let it cool
off again. When I tried to restart it this time, it
wouldn’t.”

“Would you pop the hood for me?” Axel asked.

She scrambled back into the driver’s seat, searching for the lever to
do that. Just when he was about to offer to do it for her, she found
it.

Axel lifted the hood and removed the radiator cap. Walking back around to
where she sat behind the wheel with the driver-side door open, he said,
“Try starting it.”

It did start but looking into the radiator, he saw the coolant start to
bubble up like a milkshake. Walking back toward her, he saw white smoke
coming out of the tailpipe in the rear. Well, that wasn’t good
news.

“Turn it off,” he told her.

She did as he said, climbing back out of the car.

“Yeah, that’s a blown head gasket,” Axel explained.
“The smoke coming out of the back is coolant getting into your exhaust
system. It’s not supposed to do that.”

“Can you fix it?” she asked. “H-how long will it
take?”

“I can fix it,” he said. “How long it will take depends
on a couple of things. I need to find a replacement for the head gasket and
if there’s any damage to the engine, we might need parts for that too.
Once we have the parts we need, I can have it fixed in two or three
days.”

Axel could tell that wasn’t the answer she was hoping to get. It was
probably a good idea to get all the bad news out at once.

“It’s also going to be expensive,” Axel told her.
“You’re probably looking at two to three thousand dollars to fix
it.”

Those big green eyes were getting shiny with tears and Axel felt a tiny bit
of panic creeping in. He was no damn good with tears. Never had been. He had
to find some way to make the situation the little lady was in less
terrible.

“Where are you headed?” he asked. “Do you have any
friends or family we can call that will come help you out?”

Dropping her gaze, she shook her head.

“Where are you heading?” Axel tried again.

She shrugged for an answer.

“Do you know if your insurance covers towing?” he asked. If
nothing else, it looked like he was going to be towing her back to his
garage.

She shook her head. Pretty red curls swung with her movements.

“Do you have your insurance information in the car? We could
call,” he offered.

“I don’t have it,” she told him.

Didn’t have a destination. Didn’t have insurance information?
What the hell was the situation here? When he gave her the cost of towing
the car, she reached into the pocket of her coat, pulled out a credit card,
and handed it to him. It was brand-new and shiny. Axel doubted it had ever
been used.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m going to run this, and
we’ll be on our way.”

She scrambled back into her car like a scared mouse. Axel shook his head as
he headed back to his tow truck, reaching in to get the card reader they
used for payments. The name on the card was Sadie Downing.

What the hell happened to Sadie?

He ran the card. The transaction went through which surprised him. He
walked back to her car, tapping on the window to return her card. Again, she
scrambled out of her car, looking around nervously.

Axel just had to ask. “Are you okay? The local hospital is on the way
back to the garage.”

“I’m fine,” she said a little too quickly.

“Okay.” He would leave it at that. “Why don’t you
go ahead and climb in the tow truck? I’ll get your car hooked up and
we’ll get going.”

“Thank you,” she said quickly before making a beeline for the
truck, hastily climbing into the cab.

It didn’t take Axel long to hook up her car and get them on the road.
Sadie, if that was her name, huddled quietly in the far corner of the cabin
with her head leaning on the window. While he normally appreciated the
silence, just now it was awkward. He really wanted to ask her what happened.
Who did that to her face?

One thing was pretty certain. She was on the run, and she was afraid.
Looking at her, he understood why.

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