segunda-feira, 1 de maio de 2017

♡ Blog Tour + #Giveaway ♡ Rebel Custody (Demon Horde #2) by Sarah Hawthorne @SarahRHawthorne @Barclay_PR #Live #OneClick




In REBEL CUSTODY, Skeeter is a man used to breaking the rules while Miriam is always on the right side of the law.
When Miriam agrees to pose as Skeeter's woman to get details they need for a case the lines between business and pleasure begin to blur.

Golden Heart Finalist, Sarah Hawthorne returns to her Demon Horde series with this sinfully hot must read from Carina Press!



Rebel Custody
Demon Horde #2
by
Sarah Hawthorne

Release Date: May 1, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: Carina Press





✾ Synopsis ✾


A son in danger
The Demon Horde MC are no strangers to breaking the rules, but making a man pay to get his son back crosses one too many lines for Skeeter. He'll do anything, including play by the book, if it means bringing his son home. Hiring straitlaced attorney Miriam Englestein is meant to solve his problems, not create new ones. One look at her and his good-guy facade goes out the window. He wants to throw his buttoned-up lawyer onto the back of his bike and make her his.

A woman at risk
Miri wants nothing to do with the club. Her father may be in their pocket, but she's on the right side of the law and she intends to stay there. But there's something about Skeeter's plea — something about him — she can't walk away from. While she's tempted to let him do unspeakably wicked and delicious things to her, she can't risk her law practice, or her heart.
Not that she wants to. Sex has become a job, a means to an end.

A dangerous deception
When Miriam agrees to pose as Skeeter's woman to get details they need for the case, things heat up fast — and it's not long before the lines between business and personal blur, and they're both in over their heads. In the MC world, lies have a way of coming back to you, and they put everyone at risk.












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✿ Excerpt ✿



Chapter One

Skeeter

I liked to keep my back to the wall. It was a habit I developed in the Registan Desert. But tonight I was just in a neighborhood hangout, a strip club called Jiggles. I surveyed the strip club from a corner near the pool tables. A woman danced onstage while a rock song played. The booming bass had a slight buzz. The strip club's sound system had blown a few speakers last year, but no one bothered to replace them.

When it was my turn, I leaned across the green felt. Bank shot. Three ball into the corner pocket. I closed my eyes and let the cue slide through my fingers. The balls cracked together. I heard the thump off the side cushion and then the rattle as the ball sank into the pocket. Easy.

I opened my eyes to set up my next shot.

"Hey, genius." Clint laughed. "You're stripes. Thanks for taking care of one of my balls, though."

Fuck. I looked at the table. He was right; I was stripes. I hadn't been paying attention. Instead of returning to my favorite spot against the wall, I sat on a stool in front of the bar.

"Hi, baby." Asia, one of my favorite pay-to-play hookups, leaned in close. "I'd be happy to take care of your balls, but how about you buy me a drink first?"

I rolled my eyes and asked the bartender to get her a beer.

Asia pouted. "You haven't called me in weeks." She stuck her lower lip out. "I could call a friend, and the three of us could have our own personal party. Remember how fun it was that time?"

Tempting. Asia was always enthusiastic and willing to please in bed, especially if it would earn her a big tip.

"Actually, I don't really remember much of that night." I sipped on my beer. "I haven't been in the mood lately."

"Oh!" She smiled and started to root through her huge purse. "I got stuff for that."

I put my hand on her shoulder. "That's not what I meant. I'm just not interested, okay?"

What the hell was wrong with me? Asia was tall with long legs that she could bend any which way I wanted. And her fees were reasonable. But sex had just lost its thrill. It was the same old shit. Women in skimpy outfits trying to entice me to buy, which I often did. Then a meaningless meet-up in my room at the clubhouse and a morning alone.

Maybe I could soften the blow. "Why don't you go hang out with Clint?"

We both looked over at him—he was chatting up a blonde stripper in a purple dress. Asia frowned.

"Well, maybe I'll just make a new friend tonight. Thanks." She walked away, hips swinging. I knew she wanted me to take a good look at her ass and change my mind, but I just didn't care.

Leaning against the bar, I finished off my beer and surveyed the room. Hanging out at a strip club every Friday night was getting tiring. The constant noise and empty flirting made me wish for a night at home, and not just a night in my room at the MC. I bought a house last year and never fucking stayed there. I was always partying. Maybe it was time to move.

I tried to catch Clint's eye; I was thinking of making the long drive out to my place. He was still talking to the blonde, so I decided to hit the john. Strip club bathrooms were always nasty. No matter how much froufrou crap they piled in there, it was still a urinal in a titty house.

As I was zipping up, something touched the back of my neck.

Cold. Hard. Steel.

Fuck.

"Thought I'd find you here."

The man's thick Cajun accent brought me home, the voice vaguely familiar. My father's face floated in my head before I remembered the fucking gun pressed to my neck.

"I know you?" I started to turn to see who this fucker was.

He cocked the hammer. I froze. It's a distinctive click, and when it's pressed below your ear, it's real fucking loud.

"Well, then put away the gun and we'll go get a beer." The barrel pressing into my neck eased off, and I heard him release the hammer. "I'm turning around now," I told him.

Holding the pistol was Davide Lavernge. A year or two behind me in school, he had been a class clown who dealt a little weed on the side.

"How 'bout dat drink?" He grinned.

Davide followed me over to the bar, and we ordered a round. I sucked on my beer and studied the piece of shit next to me. His sour breath wafted over from two bar stools away. He smelled like crawfish three days after the boil.

Davide licked the salt off his lips and combed peanut shells out of his beard. His face was lined and weathered, his teeth yellow. He was no longer the happy-go-lucky guy I used to know.

"Tacoma, Washington, is damn far from Breaux Bridge, Louisiana. What're you doing this far north, Davide?"

He put down the beer I had paid for and turned toward me. "I'm here about child support."

He must be in a shit ton of trouble if he was coming to me for help. I shrugged. "How much do you owe?"

He shook his head. "You owe me, Skeeter. Forty large. I been taking care of your kid."

The world went fuzzy, so I blinked. Again. My vision was clear, but my brain didn't quite understand what Davide had just said.

"Embrasse moit chew." Kiss my ass. I pushed back from the bar. "I haven't been back to Breaux Bridge in years. I don't got no kid."

Davide scratched at his beard. "After you joined the Army, Delphie realized she was pregnant. She decided she wanted to raise it on her own. That's why she dumped you."

Delphie. My first love. We had been nineteen and full of dreams. Well, I was full of dreams, and she was full of meth, weed, whatever else she could get her hands on. I put a tiny ring on her finger and then packed up for boot camp. The letter came two days after I arrived in Afghanistan. Classic Dear John. I read it in my bunk and then had to find a private place to fucking punch something. A captain saw me, and I spent the next three weeks cleaning latrines in the Registan Desert.

I narrowed my eyes. I wasn't about to fall for his line of shit. "She never told me she was pregnant."

"Don't matter. You got a kid that you ain't never paid child support for. So, by my accounting, you owe me forty Gs." Davide shrugged and stuffed more peanuts in his mouth.

I rolled my eyes. That's what this was about. "This is a goddamn shakedown. If there was a kid, Delphie would be serving me with papers. You're bullshitting me, and you fucking know it."

Davide stared at me, cold, hard. This was not the man I used to know. Back then he sold a little weed and raised a lot of hell. He was always quick to laugh, the life of the boil. Whatever he was into now had changed him.

"Delphie overdosed about six years ago. Don't matter, though. You got a fucking kid, and I want my fucking money. Once you get that through your head, call me. Else I'll come find you again. I promise you that." He handed me an old-fashioned matchbook with the name of a dive motel and a cell phone number scrawled in pencil. "Kid is here with me."

Davide got up and left me with the tab.

The matchbook was blue with a red stylized horse. Cowboy Motel. Printed on the back was a map. It was just off the highway, south of town, in the middle of a bunch of apple orchards. Tourists would drive right on by and find a room in Seattle or Tacoma. This place was meant only for truckers or the kind of people who didn't like to deal with society. The kind of people who would blackmail someone for child support for a kid that didn't exist.

This was just another way for the Lavernge family to screw me over. Delphie had dumped me as soon as deeper pockets had come along, and now Davide was trying to milk me for all I was worth. I had enough to make ends meet, but forty grand wasn't sitting in my back pocket for a rainy day.

I ran my thumb over the top of the matchbook and felt ridges. In the light of the bar, I could just make out indentations from a pen. Something was written on the inside. I flipped open the damn matchbook and saw a drawing. There wasn't much room, but someone had drawn a sun with sunglasses. The rays of the sun weren't quite even, and the lines all wobbled. A kid had drawn it.

What if I did have a kid? What if Delphie had been pregnant when I shipped out? I did some quick calculations. The kid would be nine or ten. I thought of myself at that age, all skinned knees and dirty hands. If I had a kid, what would he or she be like?

I flipped the matchbook over and stared at the map printed on the back. Same shitty location, right off the interstate. Davide was pretty desperate if he'd come all the way up here to Washington State hoping to get a lot of cash. I didn't know what Davide was mixed up in, but it was bad, and no child should be caught up in it.

I paid my tab and went to find Clint at the pool table. If this was blackmail, I was gonna need reinforcements.

* * *

An hour later me and Rip and Clint cut our engines and parked in a field behind the motel. It was easy to track down which room belonged to Davide. There was a beat-up blue truck with Louisiana plates parked at the far end, as far away as possible from the motel office and the security camera.

So we crouched with ivy up to our goddamn shoulders and waited. The lights flickered in the room, like someone was watching television.

"Shit, Skeeter, it's been forty-five minutes," Clint muttered in our ivy hole.

A sliver of light shone in the dark motel as someone opened their door. It was a woman coming out for a smoke. She collapsed into a plastic patio chair and lit up a joint. Too short to be Delphie, dark hair. Craggy face. Torn jean shorts. Maybe Davide's girlfriend? Under the hyperfocus of the binoculars, she looked worn.

Then Davide came out and sat in the other chair. They passed a joint back and forth. The door opened again and showed a small, dark figure. With the bright light of the inside of the room, the person's features were in shadow. The shadow only went a foot or so past the doorknob. A kid.

My heart leaped up into my throat. I tried to breathe, but it just came out as a guttural sound. Even though I couldn't see the kid clearly, I knew. It was like a brush stroke inside my brain that spread truth. Davide hadn't come all the way across the country just to shake me down. He was telling the truth.

Holy shit.

I had a kid.


Copyright © 2017 by Sarah Hawthorne







✿ The Series ✿


Enforcer's Price
Demon Horde #1
by
Sarah Hawthorne

Release Date: February 6, 2017

Genre: Contemporary Romance

Publisher: Carina Press





✾ Synopsis ✾


A man looking for redemption
Colt spent eight months in prison for trusting the wrong woman, nearly bringing down his entire motorcycle club in the process. Now he needs to fix the MC's cash flow problems or watch the only family he's ever known fall apart.
Meeting Krista wasn't part of his mission.
Falling for her could mean his destruction.

A single mom trying to get by
Krista was ready to leave hooking behind when her ex cleaned out her bank account. Stuck working to provide for her daughter, she protects herself with one rule: never get involved with someone at the club.
Not that she wants to. Sex has become a job, a means to an end.

One night together as an escape
Krista's body wakes at Colt's touch, allowing her to imagine a life after the MC. A future. A happily-ever-after, if only briefly. Krista brings out feelings in Colt he forgot could exist. But just as he begins to trust again, Krista's truth is revealed - testing the very boundaries of Colt's jealousy and faith.












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✿ Praise for Enforcer's Price


"I've been looking forward to Enforcer's Price since the moment I learned the premise, and I'm happy to say that this debut novel by Sarah Hawthorne doesn't disappoint. Edgy and real, Enforcer's Price grabs at your heart and doesn't let go!" ~ J. Kenner/Julie Kenner, New York Times & #1 International bestselling author

"I loved Enforcer's Price. It's a wild ride showing the gritty side of love in an MC." ~ Jade Chandler, author of the Jericho Brotherhood series

"Enforcer's Pride is a wild ride. It gets you in the feels and keeps going. It's a dark and gritty MC romance, and I can't wait for more." ~ Jade Chandler, author of the Jericho Brotherhood series

"Enforcer's Price is a sexy romance with spicy, cagey, and memorable characters who need to make the right choices this time around or forfeit everything. The plot is believable and has intense moments that leave the reader breathless. Hawthorne writes with passion and honesty." ~ Romantic Times






✿ The Author ✿


Sarah Hawthorne lives in the Pacific Northwest and drinks coffee in the winter and champagne in the summer. She enjoys writing, gardening and planning vacations.



✽ Author Links ✽

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✿ Giveaway ✿








✿ Host ✿


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♡ Chapter Reveal ♡ Scarred (Ruthless Rebels MC #3) by Chelsea Camaron & Ryan Michele @chelseacamaron @Ryan_Michele @EJBookPromos #ChapterReveal #ComingSoon #PreOrder #OneClick




Scarred
Ruthless Rebels MC #3
by
Chelsea Camaron & Ryan Michele

Genre: MC Romance

Release Date: May 19, 2017







Whitton 'Skinny' Thorne– scarred skin only covers a beautiful soul.

Bitter with a capital B.

Life has been hell from the beginning when Whitton was burned as an infant, yet as much as he pushes me away I'm always coming back for more.

When I finally let go, he wants to let me in, how do I survive when we've both been scarred?



*** Each book in the Ruthless Rebels MC is a new couple, but are best read in order. This is a biker book so please expect violence, foul language, and sexual situations. Do not buy if any of this offends you. ***
















Scarred (Ruthless Rebels MC #3)
Co-written by Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele
Copyright © Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele 2017


Chapter One

Roe

Fairytales, nursery rhymes, and childhood memories, none of them are really all that great!

Holding my hand in the air with three fingers up, I sing the song about Sally the camel and her humps. Simple.

I don't have or need complications in my life. Sally has humps that come and go, she has issues, me – I'm good.

The twenty-two smiling children sing along with me with utter enthusiasm. They love this song. Most days we sing it once sometimes twice before we do the weather and calendar first thing in the morning. Our routine, the structure the kids need to thrive, and I need to feel like things are in order.

I look up when the door to my classroom opens.

It's preschool. The director of the school comes in and out throughout the day so at first I don't think much of it. When my assistant teacher Ms. Jennifer stands up to take over, it's then I make my way to the door. As the lead teacher if the director comes in it's Jennifer who takes over for me and I meet with the director. Any changes necessary from the director, I will make them. Jennifer and I have worked together for three years now so our system is solid.

Beside the director, Ms. Marie, is the cutest little girl. Obviously, this visit is to bring us a new student. Her blue eyes are a bit too big for her face making those rounded little cheeks stand out too. There isn't fear in her blue depths, but there is a lot going on in that brain of hers. Finishing the song to the delight of the children on the ABC carpet, I let Jennifer continue with the next song. I focus my attention and greet our newest student, warm smile in place.

I bend down to her level looking her in the eyes. "Hello, I'm Ms. Roe and what's your name?"

"Marlayna," the little girl in pigtails says softly.

My heart breaks when I see the scar on her neck that her hair isn't covering. I know those marks too well. I fight back the emotion that sits just under the surface.

Burns.

This little girl has suffered a tragedy and I hate that for her.

"Would you like to join us in circle time?" I offer as I fight back the past. He is not the only person to be burned in their lives and survive. So many things twist inside me and I have to push it down. The emotions that keep beating down the well-structured walls I've built around them over the years always try to spill over, but I won't allow it. I've had no other choice but to keep a handle on it all.

My job is about teaching and nurturing Marlayna, today is not about him or his scars.

She nods her head and the day commences with story time, rhyme time, nap time, and all the normal activities of my day. Marlayna adjusted very well in the class for it being her first day. She went with the flow no trepidation and without much of a reaction to anything.

It pains me. I don't like when the kids cry, but when they come in almost numb like little Marlayna it hurts more to wonder what has hardened them to life already. Children should be free to be kids not caught up in some adult situation or punished unnecessarily.

The afternoon passes with little Marlayna quickly falling into the routine and making friends. After each of the children are gone and I get my room cleaned up, I head out.

Arriving home, I sit on the sun room of my two-bedroom house and enjoy the Georgia afternoon. When I moved out, this was my one requirement, sun room. I love the outdoors and not feeling closed up.

Blakely, Georgia, population five thousand. Small town lifestyle near the Alabama – Georgia state lines.

April is my favorite month of the year. The weather is sunshine, the birds sing, and the humidity isn't unbearable so boob sweat is a non-issue for the time being. No woman ever wants boob sweat. August, in the deep south is hotter than hell so I'll enjoy my outside time while I can.

In fact, tomorrow I think I'll take my class to have a picnic and maybe do sidewalk chalk and hopscotch on the playground. They love the outside and it helps to get as much of their energy out as possible.

My mind goes to little Marlayna. She is in the system. Foster care, with the Brown family, who are regulars in the community when it comes to taking in children. They will be good to her.

I once knew a boy who lived with the Brown's. My mind, my heart, they always go back to him. I wish it wouldn't but we have too much shared between us. His scars were similar to hers only they covered his face and half his body.

Whitton Thorne, the boy down the road with a tortured past. His mom had things so twisted in her head when it came to her twin boys. She believed Whitton was evil and Waylon was the son of Jesus or something crazy. I wasn't privy to all the details. I just know every time the state let the boys go back to her, Whitton was returned to his social worker more damaged than before. I know once they tried to send Waylon back and leave Whitton with the Brown's only for Waylon to run away to be with his twin. The two of them were close. In their situation, I would imagine one would have to be. They were also complete opposites.

God, I loved Whitton.

From the beginning when he was the boy I bumped into in grade school to the man who grew into there isn«t a moment in time since I met Whitton Thorne that he didn't have my attention. He intrigued me. His strength captivated me. And the more time I had with Whitton Thorne in my life the harder I fell in love with him.

Even now, years have passed and I can't help but hope he's okay. Hope that somewhere he found his slice of happy.

Night comes and I slide into my t-shirt blend sheets. I don't make much with my job, but this is my splurge, soft bed sheets. After all, one can't be at their best with twenty children without a good nights sleep. I close my eyes and the fatigue of the day quickly consumes me.

"Whitton Thorne, one day you're gonna be the President." I smile proudly at my friend.

"The President of the rejects club, maybe," he replies in his normal tone.

I sigh. The boy is nothing short of amazing. He's smart, athletic, and cute. He just doesn't see it. Him and his twin brother look nothing alike. All the girls crush on Waylon. He has this mystery to him. Whitton, though, Whitton is the kind of boy you can talk to, really talk to. There is depth to him. The intrigue of him keeps me on edge to know more, see more, and have more time with him. From the time we met in elementary school at eight years old until now he has captured my attention. We're young, he's seventeen and I'm sixteen, but I can't get enough of him.

"What do you see in me, Roelyn Duprey?"

I feel the blush cover my cheeks. "All good, I see all the good in you Whitton."

He smirks. "You got the wrong Thorne, Roe. Maybe you think I'm Waylon."

I prop my hand on my hip. "I know what I see in you Whitton and I see potential!"

"You have all the potential, Roe. The future is in front of you and there's not a single thing to hole you back." He tells me like he does all the time. "You need to have bigger and better than what Blakely, Georgia and a misfit like me can offer."

"Oh, Whitton, you will have bigger and better in your life. I know it."

He laughs me off like he does every single time I tell him I think he'll be someone someday. Only thing is, I know down to my soul he has so much more to give in this world. My heart bleeds that he doesn't see it.

My alarms blares drawing me out of the dream. The memory of a lost time when things weren't complicated and the boy I knew and believed in may not have believed in himself, but back then he believed in me. Something I desperately needed.

Whitton Joseph Thorne, my best friend since we ran into each other playing at recess when we were only eight years old. Twenty years later, I still consider him the best friend I've ever had... only everything between us has changed.

No longer is he the boy I thought could give the world goodness. He's a grown man who left everything in Georgia behind ten years ago when we crossed a line.

Would I cross the line again? If I knew the outcome would be this, I'm not so sure. At the time, it felt right. Hell, I thought it was going to change everything into something we could build a future on.

Except, Waylon took off and Whitton was right behind him. Where one brother went, the other was sure to follow. They had a rough start in life. Bonded as twins, bonded as brothers, and bonded by the times life kicked them while they were down those two would always stick together.

Part of me blames Waylon. The other part of me, knows the truth. Whitton ran. Yes, he woke up after the best night of our lives and couldn't handle the emotion. He found out Waylon took off and he followed. It was an escape and an all too easy excuse.

I'm not sure he realized that no matter the distance he put between us, he still had me with him. I haven't figured out a way to get that piece of me back from Whitton yet. Even after all these years, I belong to him in a way that keeps me from moving on.

Looking at little Marlayna yesterday and waking up today, it's time I let go of Whitton. Everything I thought we could one day be is a far fetched dream. Marlayna has her life ahead of her. No matter the past, she has a future.

The same can be said for Whitton Thorne and it's a future that he decided would be without me.

***

Sitting down to a late dinner, I pull out my phone and scroll social media. I don't know why because it only tells me things I don't care to know. Even with a bowl of vegetable soup in front of me, my stomach growls at seeing the yummy chocolate desserts. I have a sweet tooth. My ass and hips thank me for it.

Sipping my soup, it warms me. My thumb moves on my phone screen, skipping past people I went to high school with that I never talk to. Why I'm even friends with them, I'll never know. Maybe it's time to declutter my life. Most of the time people friend you just to see what you're doing and then delete you. Personally, I like it when people take out their own trash.

My private message pops up and internally I groan seeing it's from Lance. Hi. See you're on. Want to talk to you. He types. I need to figure out how to block people from seeing when I'm on and when I'm not. Or maybe I just need to block him. I'm thinking the latter.

Going out with Lance was up there with many mistakes I made in my life. Two dates, then I called it off. Only he didn't seem to get the point. Even telling him flat out I wasn't interested, he still messages me, texts me and calls me. Not wanting to appear rude, I've answered all of them. But this, I just don't want to engage with him. I'm tired of it. I repeat myself all day everyday with my students. My personal life, I don't want that.

I move the little bubble that shows a picture of a golf club, Lance, and toss it down below to get rid of it off my screen.

The phone begins to ring and I jump. First thought is, Lance is calling me. Then when I look at the screen, I see Elizabeth Calling. A smile crosses my face as I accept the call.

"Hey woman!" I greet my best friend. We met in college, which seems like a lifetime ago, but really wasn't.

"Hey back at ya! What are you doing? I want to meet for drinks."

I look to the clock noting it's only five-thirty, but I do have to work tomorrow. Drinking and then rowdy children in the morning is not a good combination.

"Is something up?" I take the last bite of my soup and push it to the side.

"Yes, but I don't want to tell you over the phone. Meet me in twenty at Carlyle's?"

Looking down at my clothes, the puppy dog pajama bottoms won't cut it going out. "Give me thirty. I need to change."

"Epp." She makes the sound then, "Okay, see you then." And disconnects. Whatever she has in store must be exciting.

At least one of us has something good going on.



Chapter Two

Skinny

Flames extinguish, scars fade, but the burn can't be felt forever!

I strike the match and watch it burn.

The blends of reds and yellows into oranges is mesmerizing. The flickers of colors all move as if they're dancing together. The heat gets closer and closer to my fingertips as the flame grows intently.

I feel no pain. I feel nothing.

Void. Empty.

My life is not one of colors and blends.

Poof. I blow the match out. The flame is extinguished. All that's left is black smoke. It's like my soul. Dark, unforgiving.

I sit in the dim lit room I call home. Ruthless Rebels MC – my family and the clubhouse where I calm myself at the end of every day.

The ten feet by ten feet space has my bed, one nightstand, and a dresser. The closet is small but I keep a three tiered bookshelf in there, full of different books and photo albums. It's not much, but it's mine. Beside that door is the door to the bathroom.

Feeling the acid burn in my gut, I get up and make my way in front of the porcelain. Dropping to my knees I wretch.

I don't remember the last time I woke up and didn't throw up within an hour. It happens, every damn day. I finish, stand, wash up, and brush my teeth. There's no use in looking in the mirror, I already know the mess I'll see.

I hate fucking mirrors. Only one time in my life did I ever look in a mirror and not see the hideous beast I am... and that will never happen again. Roelyn Duprey, she made the man in the mirror not a monster but a lover. She is everything beautiful I should never touch. It's a memory I'll hold onto.

She believed in me, believed in having something not understanding the monster I am. From the beginning the devil gripped my heart and never let go. The bitch known as my mother told me I was spawned in evil. She scarred me, marked me, and made sure the world could see me for what I am. A horrible, vile, demonized man.

Roelyn Duprey had rose colored glasses on. I let her keep them on because I needed her lifeline. The spark between us, I fed. Continuing to fuel, provide the heat, like a flame, I watched us grow, flicker, and rather than watch us fade, I snuffed it out quickly leaving nothing behind but black smoke.

My brother needed me and Roe needed me to go away even if she didn't know it. I took off, never looked back, and haven't looked in a mirror since the night I watched me fuck her in one.

Spitting in the sink, I rinse my mouth and walk away never checking my reflection. I know what I'd see. The flames of hell flicker in my eyes and burn in my soul, no need to remind myself.

Throwing on a clean pair of jeans, I don't bother with boxers, briefs, or anything to cover my junk. The raw denim rub will remind I'm alive. Somehow, in the hell that is my life, I keep surviving and I'm not sure why. Sliding on my shirt, I grab my cut as I drop my feet into my boots before I head out, not bothering to tie the laces till I get to my bike.

Today I have packing duty. I don't mind. I'll head to the warehouse, pack the guns to ready for shipment, and then meet up with Waylon.

My twin, Triple Threat, as he's known in the club is everything I'm not. He's good looking, level-headed, and not held back by a damn thing.

Me, I'm a scarred mess, hot-head, and haunted by the one thing I gave up so long ago.

Yeah, tonight calls for the strip club. I'll pay to have a stranger grind on me till I get hard, then head back to the clubhouse and fuck a trick until I can't remember my name, my past, and the woman I left behind.

***

"It's a boy!" Shamus rushes into the clubhouse announcing. "DJ has a healthy, happy, eight pound, nine ounce, twenty-two inch baby boy. Kenderly is doing good."

There are smiles and happiness that fill the space. Shamus comes over to me, slapping me on the back. "You wanna go with us to set up the house, brother."

I nod. There isn't a single thing with any of my brothers I would miss because they are all I have. And for once in my life, I belong.

After DJ's whore mother dropped her problems on Kenderly's doorstep, DJ claimed his woman and in turn the Rebels handled their shit. Kenderly and her mother had an uphill battle to climb with everything they had already lost, but DJ's mother cost them their home.

It took some time, but DJ won over Kenderly's heart. They have a good life, building themselves a solid future. And now their new addition. Everything is looking good for my Rebels' brother.

Not too long ago, DJ bought them a big ass house and furnished it to Kenderly's liking. Now, it's time for the Rebels to ride in and make sure our newest member is set.

"Your woman handle buying the goods?" I ask Shamus knowing he and Andrea have decided not to have kids because of the health risks for her.

"Shit, brother. She loves shopping for all this baby crap. Kitten has a soft spot for being the auntie apparently. She even bought Kenderly a video baby monitor instead of the basic one they had on the registry."

I laugh. "Nothing wrong with that."

"I didn't think so but apparently DJ and Kenderly had talked. DJ didn't want to be fuckin' his woman and look to the nightstand and see their baby awake."

"I never thought a damn thing would give DJ stage fright." We both laugh before heading out to go set up a nursery Rebels style.

"Guess a baby changes things. I'm good with how my life is so no change needed here." Shamus adds with a smirk. Things are good in the club, they are good for DJ and Shamus. It's even better to feel like I'm a real part of something.

Andrea is already inside when Shamus, Lurch, Triple Threat, and I pull up. She rushes outside and over to the car parked in front of the house.

"Mom brought me over, got lots to unload." She says more to Shamus than anyone with a smile that is relaxed and easy going.

Given the path Andrea went through to finally be okay again and with Shamus, I smile with her. Like me, her life is full of scars.

Only in all the turmoil, Andrea has found a way to not allow her scars to define her.

She lived a different life. Following her dreams into investigative reporting landed her half dead in a hospital oceans away from her home. She survived her traumatic brain injury like I survived my burns. With no place to go to pick up the pieces she came home. It took a bit, but Shamus and Andrea worked their shit out. Their past isn't holding them back from a future.

Waylon and I won't have this. Our past defines our future and it's not one that looks so bright.

For a moment, I had hope that somehow I could have a second chance to have something real in my life outside of the club. With DJ and Shamus both getting their second chances, I thought maybe there would be a sliver of time where Waylon and I could have more than what we have managed to secure. Then I dreamt I caught a look in the mirror and quickly remembered what my life has been destined to be from the moment I was born.

I am my brother's keeper. My place on Earth is to protect him even from himself. I don't have the time or emotion for anything else.

Our mother is a psycho bitch who thinks my brother is the second coming of her God or some shit. Apparently during an ultrasound, it appeared that I, baby b, was kicking or hitting, baby a – being Waylon. From that moment on I was destined to the damned.

She even tried to have me aborted but the doctors said she was too far along and it was risk to my brother. Then we were born.

She tried to leave me at the hospital. The nurses told her it wasn't good for infant twins to be separated this early. According to the medical records we later dug up, they felt she was suffering from post partum depression and would eventually want me. Having two babies at once via c-section meant she couldn't hold us right away so she didn't bond properly the doctor noted.

Bond.

What a joke. The woman tried to kill me more than once.

I've never had a mother's love. Neither has my brother.

She may have wanted me marked, condemned, banished, and branded, but she wanted my brother to be some savior to the world.

We just wanted to be boys. We grew into men who just wanted to live life. To this day I still can't understand her mindset. I gave up a long time ago trying. Waylon – that's another story.

I'll go to the ends of the Earth for my brother. I'll protect him from her or God himself if I have to.

"Snap out of it, these diapers won't unload themselves!" Waylon says throwing a box of the shit holders at me.

"How many boxes do they think Kenderly needs?" I ask looking at the van full.

"Daisy, XXX (Lurch's woman forgot her name), Andrea, her mom, Kenderly's mom and aunt, and every other woman around swear they will go through these and more." Shamus says walking inside with a bag of clothes.

"Wonder what it was like for mom to have twins?" Waylon says out loud and my chest stings in the pain I know he feels.

Yeah, we have no future like what DJ or Shamus have found. I need to stop disillusioning myself into ever thinking I could. Walk the line, it's what I have to do.

If I fuck up, I'm not the only one who suffers, Waylon will too. I won't do that to him or me. Yes, I’m better off alone.









Shamed
Ruthless Rebels MC #1
by
Chelsea Camaron & Ryan Michele

Genre: MC Romance







Dixon James Cartwright – the cowboy on a steel horse.

Trouble with a capital T.

The rigid edge of his jawline to his no holds barred lifestyle DJ is the one person I should stay away from.

Why then when everything crashes around me is he my only saving grace?



*Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele have teamed up to bring you an explosive new MC romance that will have you panting for more of the Ruthless Rebels. Hold on tight, it's going to be a wild ride full of action and suspense that these two authors are known for. Throw in two people who finally get their second chance, and things are about to get smoking hot.**

**This book contains violence, adult language, and sexual situations and is not intended for readers under the age of 18. This book is a work of fiction and is not meant to be an exact depiction of life in a motorcycle club but rather to entertain.**


















Scorned
Ruthless Rebels MC #2
by
Chelsea Camaron & Ryan Michele

Genre: MC Romance







Austin "Shamus" Fletcher – the untamable beast.

Heartbreak with a capital H.

The toned cut of his every muscle to his larger than life attitude, Shamus is the one person I should stay away from.

Why can I not let go even when everything in front of me says run like a bat out of hell?


***Each book in the Ruthless Rebels MC is a new couple, but are best read in order. This is a biker book so please expect violence, foul language, and sexual situations. Do not buy if any of this offends you.***




















✧ Chelsea Camaron ✧


USA Today Bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She is a wife and mom chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond, she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder.








✧ Ryan Michele ✧


Ryan Michele found her passion in making fictional characters come to life. She loves being in an imaginative world where anything is possible and has a knack for special twists readers don't see coming.

She writes MC, Contemporary, Erotic, Paranormal, New Adult, Inspirational, and many more romances. And whether it's bikers, wolf shifters, mafia, or beyond, Ryan spends her time making sure her heroes are strong and her heroines match them at every turn.

When she isn't writing, Ryan is a mom and wife living in rural Illinois and reading by her pond in the warm sun.








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