Synopsis
If you love the motorcycle
romances of Joanna Wylde and Julie Ann Walker, don’t miss Violetta
Rand’s irresistible novel about a sexy-as-sin biker who tempts a good
girl to go bad.
Lang Anderson may be the new leader of the Sons of Odin motorcycle
club, but his personal life is in shreds. He’s struggling to take care
of his three young sisters in the wake of tragedy, while rumors of drug
dealing within his ranks jeopardize everything he’s built. The last
thing he needs is another distraction—like a bar brawl over a woman—but
Lang is a sucker for a damsel in distress. And this one gets him
roaring like a finely tuned engine.
High school guidance counselor Lily Gallo is no fender bunny. So why
can’t she get Lang off her mind? Lily’s head says the rugged,
rough-and-tumble biker who came to her aid is bad news. Her body begs
to differ. But when Lang’s troubled kid sister walks into her office,
Lily’s determined to help, even if it puts her in the crossfire of a
gang war. On a crash course with danger and desire, Lily partners up
with Lang to fight for his family—and for love.
Excerpt
Unlike his Brothers who preferred the
classic Softails or full dressers, Lang rode the sinister Night Rod
Special. He chose bikes like he did women—favoring off-the-line
explosive handling. Just as he mounted his bike, two news vans
screeched into the parking lot, effectively blocking his exit route.
Sandy Fuentes, an investigative reporter
the club was well acquainted with, jumped out of the first vehicle,
straightened her ass-hugging miniskirt, and snatched a microphone from
her cameraman. She scooted across the asphalt, nearly slipping on the
gravel in her heels as she stopped in front of him.
“Lang Anderson,” she said, throwing him
her best fuck-me pout. “Corpus Christi wants to know . . .” Her
tagline. “With your president on a fast track for lethal injection,
what’s next for the Sons of Odin?”
She was easy on the eyes, and Lang
couldn’t blame her for trying to get an exclusive. Depending on her
mood, which shifted with the wind and on whether he’d fucked her right
the night before, she might provide her fans with an accurate report.
Regardless, he liked her aggressive personality and the way she rode
him like a racehorse.
Lang crossed his arms over his chest,
leaning against his bike. “Nice to see you too, Sandy.”
She grimaced, always affected by the way
he spoke her name. It disarmed her every time. “No sweet-talking your
way out of this one, Lang.”
He grinned. “You mean the way you
sweet-talked your way into my bed last night?”
His Brothers catcalled and laughed.
Sandy’s face flushed and she spun
around, signaling her crewman to kill the camera. “What the hell, Lang?
Thought we agreed to keep our association a secret.”
A secret? Her bright yellow Corvette
parked overnight in the club lot spoke for itself. He didn’t fuck and
tell, she did. “Turn your camera on, Sandy, I’ll give you a statement.”
“Really?” Her hand slipped to her hip.
“Why?”
Lang edged closer, leaned in so only she
could hear him. “Because you give the best blowjobs.”
The slap stung his face, but he didn’t
care. A little pain reminded him of the kind of life he chose to live.
“Clubhouse, eleven tonight.”
She inhaled, her pretty face a mixture
of emotions. Lang didn’t trust her at all. But she warmed his bed, and
he never had to ask twice. Gaze sweeping her hourglass figure a last
time, he turned to go.
“Wait,” she said.
Lang didn’t bother looking at her.
“I’m getting tired of our arrangement. I
want more.”
So did Lang. More for himself, but most
of all, more for Maya, Leigh, and Trisha, his little sisters. The only
ones who inspired him to hold back, to contemplate his future, to keep
from diving headfirst into a life of violence that could easily swallow
you whole. And as for women—he’d never found one worthy of commitment.
And if he did, she wouldn’t deserve the life of being a biker’s old
lady. Property.
“There’s nothing more to give, Sandy.”
He turned, then pounded his chest with his fist. “My family and
Brothers are the only things I care about.”
“Is that a quote?” she asked, doing a
shitty job of masking her hurt feelings.
“Don’t take it personally,” he advised.
“Take it for what it is.”
People considered him many things, all
the clichés: dark and dangerous, violent and crude, barbaric even. But
never a liar. And with women, he told it like it was.
Mutual pleasure, nothing more. And if he
really liked someone, she could stay the night in his bed. But when the
sun came up, don’t let the door hit you . . . Better not to tie himself
down, living the life he did.
He felt the weight of her stare on his
back as he climbed on his bike. The Harley roared to life underneath
him, louder than a small aircraft. That thunder between his legs always
made him smile. He raised his hand, gesturing for his Brothers to
follow in formation, arranged by rank. He merged with traffic on North
Shoreline Boulevard, wondering what the future held for the Sons of
Odin.
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Author Info
An environmental scientist by day, Violetta Rand has been in love with
writing since childhood. Struck with an entrepreneurial spirit at a
young age, she wrote short stories illustrated by her best friend and
sold them in her neighborhood. Rand enjoys outdoor activities, music,
reading, and losing herself in the world she brings to life in the
pages of her stories. The only thing she loves more than writing is her
wonderful relationship with her husband.
Author Links:
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Juliette
calls lush, moss-laden Louisiana home where the landscape curls into
her imagination, creating mystical settings for her stories. She has a
B.A. in creative writing from Louisiana State University, a M.Ed. in
gifted education, and was privileged to study under the award-winning
author Ernest J. Gaines in grad school. Her love of mythology, legends,
and art serve as constant inspiration for her works. From the moment
she read JANE EYRE as a teenager, she fell in love with the Gothic
romance--brooding characters, mysterious settings, persevering
heroines, and dark, sexy heroes. Even then, she not only longed to read
more novels set in Gothic worlds, she wanted to create her own.
Tessa
Bailey is originally from Carlsbad, California. The day after high
school graduation, she packed her yearbook, ripped jeans and laptop,
driving cross-country to New York City in under four days.
Christina Phillips is an ex-pat Brit who now
lives in sunny Western Australia with her high school sweetheart and
their family. She enjoys writing hot contemporary romance where the
stories sizzle and the heroine brings her hero to his knees.
