I’d like to thank Tricia for having me here today! She and I have been Tuesday Tales buddies for a couple years now, and being able to visit on a Friday is a real treat. So, thanks for letting me come by today, Tricia. *hugs*
For those who aren’t familiar with my work, I write contemporary romance, mostly MM and generally about hockey, although I do pen an MF hockey series and have several MM books that don’t have skates or pucks in them. My books deal with social issues, personal growth, team dynamics, and LOTS of lusty love.
When I started working on Open Net, I had a few decisions to make about my leading men. August Miles had already been introduced in the previous Cayuga Cougars book, Snap Shot, so I knew him well. It was his love interest, Sal Castenada, that gave me a bit of trouble with a few points – his age being the primary niggling issue. I’d originally had him being the same age as Augie, but Salvatore nixed that quickly. So, he’s now fifteen years older than my bumbling, backward netminder. Seems my characters always know best!
One thing that was never up for debate about Sal was the he was HIV positive. As I mentioned in my little intro up there, I write about social issues. Being an ally, proud mother of an out and proud bi daughter, as well as an LGBTQ author, I read articles about the gay community to keep up to date as best I can. One I came across from the CDC discussed how new cases of HIV are rising among youth (ages 13- 24) and among those new cases, Black and Latino males seem to be rising the fastest. I wanted to address this upsetting trend, and so I had Sal – a Latino male – contract HIV when he was a younger man.
Tons of research went into this story as well as having an emergency room nurse read over certain scenes to ensure medical accuracy. I hope that those who read Open Net will come away with a warm heart and perhaps a new understanding of the battle and stigma people who are HIV positive still face.
Amazon – http://tinyurl.com/y6vdbqmz
Amazon UK – http://tinyurl.com/y82awkl2
Amazon CA – http://tinyurl.com/y9dtmnn8
Amazon AU – http://tinyurl.com/y8u4s25z
iBooks – http://tinyurl.com/yakea3nf
Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35618722-open-net
August Miles has the world on a string professionally.
Augie, as his friends and teammates call the unassuming young goaltender, is on the fast track to the pros. The starting goalie for the Cayuga Cougars, he has a year or two in Cayuga to hone his skills and all his career dreams will have come true. Pity his personal life isn’t riding the same high. He’s the only one among his group of friends without that special someone to call his own.
Until he meets Salvatore Castenada at a lakeside party. The attraction is white-hot and more than a little wonderfully overwhelming for the romantically inexperienced goalie. August quickly discovers that Sal is everything he’s dreamed of in a man: mature, settled, sinfully handsome, and filled with gentle humor. Sal is also HIV positive.
Will Sal’s revelation about his status end this budding relationship before it can even begin? Or will the two men be able to handle the challenges life—and a championship run for the Cougars—throws at them?
Several days later, trying to be nonchalant about things, I stood outside his door, empty container in my hand, features schooled not to reflect how scared I was.
He looked shocked to see me on his doorstep. “Hey,” he said.
I held up the empty dish.
His gaze darted to the container, then back to me, a smile tugging at the corner of his sensual mouth. “Looking for a refill or something more?”
He stepped aside to let me enter. I paused just inside the front door, turning to look at him after he shut it.
“I’d like to have more,” I said, and held out the container like some sort of orphan in a musical.
“More what?” he asked, and I heard the uncertainty in his voice.
“More food and more you.”
“Are you sure, August?”
He gently took the container, his eyes locked with mine. “Are you one hundred percent sure? Maybe you should take more time. I’m not a prime dating candidate for you. I’m seropositive and I’m fifteen years older than you are. I can almost guarantee you that some of your friends are going to be against us seeing each other.”
“I don’t need more time and I don’t need friends who would be so judgmental. Yes, I’m one hundred percent sure. I’ve spent days reading, watching videos, and then reading more. I even talked with a medical professional. I know what I’m going to be facing—what we’re going to be facing.”
He tossed the container onto a small table at the end of the sofa. “We can never have unprotected sex. Ever. Not even once.”
“I know,” I said as want began pumping through my veins.
“If a condom breaks you could get infected.” He stared deep into my eyes.
“I know,” I replied. “I know all the bad things that can happen. I still want to date you.”
“No, you just think you know all the bad things, Aug. There’s so much you don’t know.” He sounded sad and weary.
“Then I’ll learn. Sal, I want to be with you, okay? I mean, if you don’t want to be with me, then that’s fine. I’ll just leave and you’ll never have to look at my dumb face ever—”
Sal stepped up to me without a word and pushed my back against the wall. A shocked grunt escaped me right before his mouth dropped over mine. He ran his tongue over the seam of my mouth. I let him in. He was powerful, possessive and hungry. His tongue slipped around mine as his hands found the edge of my shirt.
Breaking the kiss, he jerked my shirt upward, not caring that it caught under my chin. He just tugged harder to get the neckband free. Once the material popped free, he grabbed the shirt with both hands and held my arms over my head, the soft cotton keeping my hands off him.
“I should tell you to leave now, but I want you too bad to be noble,” he growled.
He captured my mouth again, this time letting his body lean in to me from chest to knees. My fingers slipped out of the T-shirt and I pushed them between his. Sal gyrated against me. His hard cock slid over mine. I sucked in a heated breath. He moaned, then began feasting on my neck, collarbone, and finally a nipple. He slipped his hands out of my grip and his palms, flat to my arms, slowly slithered downward.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
V.L. Locey loves worn jeans, yoga, belly laughs, walking, reading and writing lusty tales, Greek mythology, Dr. Who, Torchwood, the New York Rangers, comic books, and coffee. (Not necessarily in that order.) She shares her life with her husband, her daughter, one dog, two cats, a flock of assorted domestic fowl, and two Jersey steers.
When not writing spicy romances, she enjoys spending her day with her menagerie in the rolling hills of Pennsylvania with a cup of fresh java in hand. She can also be found online on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, and GoodReads.
Newsletter – http://tinyurl.com/ksul5rs
Reader’s Group – https://www.facebook.com/groups/1439154279700674/
My blog- http://thoughtsfromayodelinggoatherder.blogspot.com/
Other Books by V.L. Locey
Gone Writing Publishing M/F Backlist Books and Upcoming Releases
Pink Pucks & Power Plays (Book One of the To Love a Wildcat series)
A Most Unlikely Countess (Book Two of the To Love a Wildcat series)
O Captain! My Captain! (Book Three of the To Love a Wildcat series)
Reality Check (Book Four of the To Love a Wildcat series)
Language of Love (Book Five of the To Love a Wildcat series)
Final Shifts (Book Six of the To Love a Wildcat series)
Clean Sweep (Book One of the Venom series)
Twirly Girl (Book Two of the Venom series)
Tape to Tape (Book Three of the Venom series)
Roster Addition (A To Love a Wildcat novella)
Angle Play (Book Four of the Venom series)
Coming 11/1/17… Flow (Book Five of the Venom series)
Coming 3/14/18…Blueline (Book Six of the Venom Series) Improper Fraction
Gone Writing Publishing LGBTQ Releases
Playmaker (An F/F Venom series novella)
Coming 10/18/17… Improper Fraction
Independent LGBTQ Releases
Holly & Hockey Boots (An M/M holiday hockey romance novella)
Point Shot Trilogy
Snap Shot – Cayuga Cougars #1
Changing Lines – Harrisburg Railers #1 – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Open Net – Cayuga Cougars #2
Coming 9/27/17…First Season – Harrisburg Railers #2 – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Coming 10/4/17… Rookie Moves (Part of the 2107/2018 Changing on the Fly M/M charity hockey anthology)
Coming 12/1/17 … Deep Edge – Harrisburg Railers #3 – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Coming 1/10/18…Coach’s Challenge – Cayuga Cougars #3
Coming 2/14/18…Ryker – Owatanna Eagles #1 – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Coming 3/14/18…Blueline – Venom #6
Coming 5/15/18…Harrisburg Railers #4 – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Coming 6/27/18…Overtime – Cayuga Cougars #4
Coming 8/8/18… Owatanna Eagles #2 – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Coming 10/13/18…Harrisburg Railers #5 – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Coming 12/5/18… Holiday Novella – Railers &Eagles Crossover – Coauthored with Rj Scott
Fargo Women Plot and Plan
A Vintage Daze Short Story
By Trisha Faye
The women of Fargo, Texas band together to create a church cookbook. Even though 1935 was a difficult year for most of the country, the women are determined. Extreme heat, drought, dust storms – they are nothing compared to the wake of women on a mission. But will the force of the worst dust storm in history derail the women’s project? Take a step back in time in this Vintage Daze Short Story. This historical fiction is inspired by actual women and their ‘How We Cook Down on the Farm’ cookbook created for the Fargo Baptist Church.
Seventeen recipes from the 1935 cookbook are included with this short story.
Maude stood in the doorway, hesitant, as every seat was full. She looked around the room, feeling a little out of place. Doilies filled the surfaces of the bookcase, the side tables, and the arms of all the stuffed chairs and divan. Even the radio sitting in the corner had a crocheted adornment covering the top of it. A pristine coat of white paint covered the bead board walls and the globes of all the lamps gleamed brightly with sparkle. It’s obvious that Lillian doesn’t have any children to take up all her time. Then she chastised herself for her little grumble. I should be happy that someone has a house with nice things to fill it.
“Over here, Maude.” Eula sat in the middle of the divan between two women. She scooted closer to Hazel and patted a space between her and Grandma Parker. “We’ll fit. It’ll be a cozy spot.”
Fortunately, Maude’s slim frame fit easily into the space the women made. Grandma Parker leaned over and hugged Maude. “Hi, dear. So nice to see you here today. You haven’t been to many meetings lately.”
“No…the farm…the children…don’t always have the gasoline…” Maude blushed and stammered. She didn’t know why she felt she needed to explain her absence. But out of habit, when an elder spoke or questioned, Maude answered, feeling much like a nine-year old girl instead of the grown woman she was. She searched her memory for the elderly woman’s given name but didn’t recall it. Everyone had called her Grandma Parker for so long, that’s all most of them knew her as.
Mrs. Forester, the group’s president, moved to one side of the parlor and clapped her hands. “Ladies. Your attention please.” She waited until the chatter quieted before continuing. “I call the Women’s Auxiliary of the Fargo Baptist Church to order. Lillian? You’re taking the minutes today?”
The hostess held her sharpened pencil in the air. “Yes, ma’am. Ready, willing, and able.”
“Our first order of business is a vote on our fundraiser.”
“Cookbooks.” A voice called out.
Other voices chimed in, repeating the favored suggestion.
“Yes, let’s do a cookbook.”
A timid voice from one corner called out a different idea. “Aprons and potholders.”
Mrs. Forester cleared her throat. “Let’s put it to a vote. We have three suggestions from the last meeting. The first suggestion was a bake sale. By a raise of hands…who wants a bake sale?”
The group sat quietly, hands in their laps.
The president glanced around the room, looking for any raised hands. “No one?” She waited a moment and didn’t see any takers. “The next idea was Helen Smith’s suggestion. Selling aprons and pot holders that we’ve sewn and donated. Any votes for aprons and pot holders?”
One lone hand made its way into the air. Helen Smith, the mousy woman sitting in the corner. No one else joined her in the vote.
“That brings us to the third suggestion. Compiling a cookbook…”
HOW TO SUGAR CURE HAM AND BACON
250 to 300 lb. hog – use 1 gal. salt, 8 tablespoons full sugar, 4 tbsp. black pepper – mix well. Lay meat on paper, rub in mixture well. Extra well on out side skin. Use entire mixture on entire hog. Wrap good in 2 layers of paper, and put in sack. Hang like it walks. Put on mixture next morning after killed, let hang until ready to use.
Horton H. Scherer, a Fargo Farmer
CHICKEN SALAD SANDWICHES
1 chicken cooked tender and ground or chopped fine
1-2 head of lettuce
2 medium sized pickles
2 boiled eggs
1 sweet pepper
Chop all these up and salt and pepper to suit taste and add salad dressing. Will make 20 or more sandwiches.
Mrs. Cecil Goins
EMERGENCY OR SOUR MILK BISCUITS
Sift 2 cups flour 4 tsp. baking powder, 1-2 tsp. salt and 1-4 tsp. soda together. Melt shortening, add to sour milk and add this liquid to dry ingredients. Mix to a soft dough. Turn on slightly floured board. Roll or pat to 1-2 inch thick. Cut with small biscuit cutter and bake in greased pan 12 min.
Trisha Faye’s greatest pleasure is paying tribute to people and items from the past. When she can tear herself away from the joys of researching, she spins the facts she finds into fictional tales, usually with a cat nestled on her lap.
Trisha delivering a set of 1934 quilt squares to the Taylor County Historical Museum in Iowa.
Web Site: http://www.trishafaye.com
Damon, his cousin, and four friends converted grandma’s house into a private sex club for people of color. It seemed like a good idea, and the club was starting to turn a profit already—after being open for only a few months.
So, Damon was proud to show it off to his friend and occasional sexual playmate, Cassandra. She’d had a small taste of his freaky side and seemed interested. Damon was interested in finding out how much more this Latina beauty could handle.
What he didn’t expect was to open the door to a side of Cassandra that even she didn’t know existed. It wasn’t just the kink that turned her on. It wasn’t only the submission, either.
Step inside Club Starburst as Damon and his friends help Cass find the sexual freedom and happiness she’s been searching for in ways she didn’t know existed.
Cassandra’s Unveiling http://bit.ly/jccassandra
Safe and Sane
Rules are for safety. Dungeon Monitors are for protection.
So what do you do when the DM is the one breaking the rules and possibly putting his submissive in danger? Does it matter that they’ve been together for years? Does it matter that this DM is one of the investors in Club Starburst?
Damon isn’t sure how to handle what he’s been observing between Maverick and Desiree. He can’t quite put his finger on what’s wrong. To make the situation even more complicated, Desiree’s old Dominant is watching, too. He was always very protective, and he’s not happy.
What do you do when the play room is filled with tension between friends, when safe and sane are in question, and when respect and rules are being stretched?
If someone has to go, who will it be when everyone involved is an investor with money to lose?
Safe and Sane
Damon didn’t expect Club Starburst to be so successful when he’d first had the idea to open a BDSM club for black folks, but he’d seen a lot of happy relationships form and people grow into fuller acceptance of their sexual proclivities over the months. Everyone seemed satisfied with the way he was handling the club business, but for him, something was still missing.
Until his Destiny walked in the door. No, seriously, her name is Destiny and it only took a few minutes of observing her for Damon to know that he wanted to break her. Then he’d make her his.
Of course, he would set his sights on one of the most difficult new members the club had ever accepted. A submissive who didn’t want to follow the rules. A sassy, beautiful, sexy vixen who turned him inside out and got away with topping him because she was just too distracting for him to keep her in line.
Yeah, he wanted her and he was going to have her . . . even if his Destiny brought a future full of trouble.
The Dom’s Destiny http://bit.ly/jcdomsdestiny
Josie Carver was born and raised in Ohio, where she resides currently. From a young age, she was drawn to romance comic books and novels. Relationships intrigue her. Falling in love fascinates her. She recently decided to write erotic romance stories after discovering a true enjoyment of reading the sub-genre. One thing she hopes to get across in the debut Club Starburst Series is that the power exchange between a man and a woman during intimacy is one of the most vulnerable and powerful experiences people can share if they are brave enough to let go of inhibitions.
Josie desired to create a series with complex characters, so you’ll find a variety of issues affecting the main characters from Cassandra’s Unveiling, Safe and Sane, and The Dom’s Destiny. These stories are about much more than sex because Josie believes that everything about us impacts how we relate to those we are our closest friends and lovers. She spent a lot of time researching the BDSM culture and speaking with people who participate in the lifestyle so that her readers can feel a true appreciation for what she believes is a truly remarkable world. At the end of the day, she believes that this foray and these characters represent the possibilities that can happen when people are unafraid to trust in one another, exercise the power found in knowing themselves, and reach beyond traditional boundaries to find freedom and fulfillment.
Josie Carver is the erotica pen name of award-winning romance Author Brynette L. Turner. The pen name was chosen to honor her great-grandmother Josephine—a woman of strength, intelligence, bravery, and determination—as well as her favorite middle school teacher, who was one of the people to invest in building her up as a person instead of just seeing her as another student. Creating interesting story lines in a sub-genre that seems taboo to many African Americans is a true act of courage that Josie hopes will make people proud and encourage them to delve deeply into their secret desires and buried needs.
You can reach her at firstname.lastname@example.org, follow @EroticJosie on Twitter, like her Facebook page at http://www.facebook.com/EroticJosieAA, and sign up for her newsletter at http://eepurl.com/cBpKGX.
Curvy and Wanted Series
Warning: For Mature Adult Audiences 18+. Contains language and actions some may deem offensive. Sexually explicit content. Ménage – MMF
What do you do when your whole world gets turned upside down?
How do you thank someone who has done something so unimaginably remarkable?
You can’t unless you fall head over heels in love with them.
When you focus your entire existence on fixing that something for the one person you will do anything for. Only to get hit by the full force of unexpected love, so instantaneously you are sure someone is going to take it away.
I was just doing what I hope anyone else would do.
How much can one person take though?
What happens when tempers flare, a known enemy strikes, and indecisions surface?
Find out what happens when three become one.
Female cover model: Addi Whillock
Chapter 1 – Coby
The naked body beside me didn’t do shit for my appetite. I was fucking hungry, and this limp bundle was dead weight compared to the beast within who wanted to come out and play. If only I could feed it. Give it the sustenance it craved. The ecstasy that took over all thought processes while you fuck into oblivion.
“You ready for more, baby?” the whore asked, looking up at me through heavy-lidded eyes.
I only looked at her. I couldn’t be sure what she saw on my face, but either way, I wanted her gone.
A moment later, she swallowed hard and rose from the bed. Grabbing her clothes, she shuffled out of the room.
Shower. I needed a fucking shower. I needed to wash the smell of impurity off me.
The woman latched on hard the night before. One look, and the next thing I knew, she was all over me like a pig in shit. Of course, I acted how she wanted me to. If I would have shown her my true self, she would have left before I could get my dick wet. No woman could handle the beast—the part of myself I liked to think was put there out of retribution for my past transgressions. I was a sinner, and I paid the price by craving things I couldn’t get from just anyone.
When the front door shut, I took that as my cue and trudged to the bathroom. But not before I was met with the stare down from Dale Michaels. My Navy brother narrowed his eyes, looking between the door and myself.
“Rough night?” he asked, popping back a beer.
It wasn’t even noon yet and already he was drinking. Not that I was one to judge. If I drank, living in the shit world we did, I would probably be slamming back a few as well. Instead, in my case, I curbed that craving through other means necessary. Alcohol did shit for my appetite.
“Not rough enough,” I answered, pushing open the door leading to my savior. Hot water. And lots of it.
“I don’t get you, man.” He took another swig, burped and pointed the head of the bottle in my direction. “You fuck woman after woman but you’re still grumpy as shit. You think you would be the happiest man alive with how much pussy you’re getting.”
Pussy. Sure. I got a lot of it, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I shrugged, the movement causing a slight crack to shiver down my spine. “It’s only sex. And that—” I pointed to the main door at the front of the apartment “—was just pussy. Nothing more.” Act like a lady, and I’ll treat you like one. But if you come to me acting like a whore, I won’t be nice.
Dale shook his head. “Still don’t get you,” he mumbled, drinking the rest of his beer. He frowned once he realized it was empty and made his way into the kitchen.
Heading into the bathroom before he could bombard me with more questions, I stripped and turned on the shower. Craving the burn from the water, I stepped under the hot spray. A groan escaped me, the bite of the scalding liquid making all my nerve endings come alive. It helped the itch, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough.
A hard knock sounded on the door a moment later, interrupting my current enjoyment.
“Angel needs us at the club,” Dale said. “Dante’s Kings are headed there.”
“Be out in a sec.” I finished up my shower, dreading it instantly when I turned off the water. If only my emotions were that easy to turn off.
Dante’s Kings were annoying. They were like flies, always getting in the way and shitting on anything they touched.
The motorcycle club did everything in their power to put fear into the people they came into contact with. Only dealing with them a couple of times, I never gave them the satisfaction. They didn’t scare me. Nothing did. Not yet, anyway. I had seen it all. Dante’s Kings were pussies compared to who I had had to deal with in my lifetime.
“Coby,” Dale barked. “Let’s go.”
So damn impatient. I got dressed, making sure my shirt covered my scars. Tattoos wouldn’t even cover them, the skin being too sensitive, so I never even bothered. Nightmares from my past threatened to force their way into my mind. Nagging. Poking. Scraping at the walls of my sanity. Things I had done. Things I still did. Being a Navy SEAL sniper was not all puppies and glitter.
Giving myself a shake, I left the small room.
“Ready?” Dale asked, coming down the hallway toward me.
My body vibrated, my knuckles itching with the need to hit something. “Yes.”
He smirked. “Got the itch?”
“Yes,” I repeated, flexing my hands. The itch hurt at times. It was arthritis. I knew that. But the darkness inside of me liked to convince me it was the need to destroy. Like Godzilla itself, I craved the day I could tear down the evil that put the innocent in harm’s way.
“Let’s go.” Dale demanded, leaning his head from side to side.
I followed him out to his truck, the urgent need to fight growing stronger by the minute. The closer we got to the clubhouse, the more intense the urge became.
The King’s Harlots club came into view ten minutes later. Motorcycles lined the parking lot in all different sizes and colors.
“As much as I can’t stand Dante’s King’s, they sure have some nice machinery,” Dale whistled. “I need a bike.”
“You don’t even know how to ride one,” I reminded him, the memory of him falling off mine coming to mind.
“You’re a tall fucker, and your bike is too big for me.”
I chuckled, shaking my head.
Dale raised an eyebrow.
Clearing my throat, I pasted on a straight face.
It wasn’t something I did often. Having feelings stripped from me at a young age, becoming a sniper in the military made sense. I didn’t care who I shot and killed. Everyone who fell to their death at my feet deserved it.
“You need to laugh more,” Dale mumbled, breaking the unnerving silence.
Yeah, yeah. There were a lot of things I needed to do. Laughing was not one of them.
We pulled into the parking lot, and that was when a flutter of something washed over me, hitting me square in the balls. I couldn’t explain the new feeling. It was delicious, making my senses come alive.
Stepping out of the truck, my gaze landed on the source of these new feelings. Or rather, recurring feelings that I hadn’t acted upon. Yet.
“Hey, guys,” Brogan Tapp, the smallest member of King’s Harlots but definitely the toughest, sidled up to Dale. “Max is inside.”
“Fucking great,” he grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets and made his way inside the club.
“Hi, Coby,” she said, her mouth moving over my name like a lover’s kiss, but all I could picture was it sliding over my cock instead.
I nodded once, giving her some acknowledgement.
She rolled her eyes, making her way back into the club, but not before I heard her mutter, “Asshole,” under her breath.
Smirking to myself, I followed her. Was I an asshole? Yes. But only because I knew I wouldn’t be good for her. She deserved better. So much better. I had demons, dark secrets, and I didn’t need to worry about a woman who I knew could make me fall in love with her. These confusing feelings I got already from just being near her didn’t sit well with me. My palms twitched, itching with the need to touch her. Just a touch. My fingers begged to move her dark curly hair off the back of her neck. My arms pleaded to wrap around her small, firm body, holding her against me until I got the calm I was looking for.
Brogan could be it. The one who took the impending darkness away.
I shook my head. No. I would live the rest of my life fucking random women to curb my craving before I ever hurt a hair on Brogan’s head. And being with me would do just that.
The guy was a God.
Dark. Tall. Quiet. So damn quiet. He didn’t need to talk for you to know that he was already looking into your soul. I bet he knew all my dirty and dangerous secrets without me even telling him.
When he grunted, instead of saying hi to me, I wanted to drive my fist into his face and yell for him to answer me. To have a conversation with me. To give me something. But no. He had demanded for weeks that I stop hinting. I had a crush on the guy. Everyone knew it. But, why wouldn’t I? He was everything that I wasn’t.
I found myself wanting to not only crack his walls but destroy them. I was warned, told to stay away from him, leave him alone. Blah. Blah. Blah.
With four older brothers, I wasn’t one to give up easily.
After everything that had been going on over the past couple of weeks, I would lie low, though, giving Coby the space he felt he needed. Everything in me told me that something had happened. Call it the nurturing side of me, but I wanted to help. I wanted to ease his pain which wasn’t like me at all. The only people I felt the need to protect were my brothers and sisters and now Coby’s team.
Vice-One had made themselves known a couple of months ago when they started working on the club after someone tried to blow it up.
Angel Rodriguez, being the owner, was adamant on getting it fixed up. Especially after he met Genevieve Gold. Or Jay. Call her by her full name and she would shove her shitkicker up your ass.
Making my way into the club, I headed to the meeting room that was now filled with two bike clubs and the guys from Vice-One. I never let it be known but I didn’t like crowds. Especially if people got in my bubble.
Jay sat at the head of the large oak table, talking to Maxine Stanton, the vice-president.
Max nodded every so often, looking around the large room before turning back to our boss.
“Brogan, you okay?” Meeka Cline, my best friend, came up beside me, grumbling under her breath how there was too much testosterone in one room.
“I’m fine.” I would be better if I was alone or hitting something. My muscles vibrated. A good workout would be needed after this shit.
A loud whistle sounded around the room, silencing the noisy chatter.
“Tell us what’s going on,” Angel demanded of Brian Gold, Jay’s father. He stood beside Jay, keeping his hand on her shoulder. Although he was the president of Dante’s Kings and rough around the edges, when it came to his daughter, he was a big teddy bear.
“Charles has contacted us,” the older man’s deep voice grit out. “One of our men from another chapter ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was sent back to his club piece by piece, the last one being his dick.”
My stomach somersaulted, but not for reasons one would think. It reacted that way whenever I wished I could do something myself. To rip off every appendage that belonged to Charles Brian would be the best gift I had ever been given. I was sick and twisted but I owned it.
“Fuck me,” Jay breathed. “Who was it?”
“A prospect, but it doesn’t matter who,” Brian snapped, shaking his head a second later. “Sorry, nugget. It’s been a rough morning.”
“I understand.” She rose to her feet, pacing back and forth. “Anything else?”
“Another club was blown up in Fort Banks,” Brian answered, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Shit.” Dale leaned forward. “You think Charles’ men did it?”
“Yes,” Tyler Bone interjected. “We do.” The vice-president of Dante’s Kings, cracked his knuckles. “It’s only been the one club so far but we wanted to warn you.”
Nothing was said as Tyler spoke the truth. He was an ass. Being Jay’s ex, he had caused problems for them. But for whatever reason, he was being civil.
“Why do you want to help us?” Jay questioned, her forehead crinkling in the middle.
“Nugget, why wouldn’t we want to help?” her father asked. “I know you’ve had your problems, but we’re in this together. These bastards are trying to destroy what’s ours. They killed one of our own.”
“I get that,” she interrupted. “But why are you helping us?” she asked Tyler.
Tyler sat back, rubbing his chin. “I don’t know. I do suggest taking my help while it’s being offered, though.”
Jay laughed. “That’s more like it.” She let out a heavy sigh, turning to Angel. “What do you think?”
“I think you girls shouldn’t be alone. Being one of the only female MCs in this area, you have a bigger target on your backs. These sick fucks …” he growled. “We have to be careful.”
Jay nodded. “Thank you for warning us.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “You can go now.”
I bit back a laugh. God, I loved her. Jay was good at her job, and she didn’t take shit from anyone. Not even her father’s club. It always amused me when she threw her attitude at them.
“You’ve become a bitch, Jenny.” Tyler stood, rapping his knuckles on the table top. “We’re only trying to help.”
“Yeah. Sure. Thanks for that.” Jay looked to her father. “Thank you.”
Her dad only smirked. “Be safe.” He kissed her head and followed the rest of his crew out of the room.
“Well, that was fun,” Dale muttered, stretching his arms over his head.
“Oh, yeah.” Max pasted a fake smile on her face. “The fact that clubs are being blown to shit all over the state is definitely something to look forward to.”
Dale only stared at her, his eyes darkening.
“All right, children—” I rose from the chair “—play nice.”
Dale scoffed. “That’s boring.”
Max scowled, leaving the room and slamming the door shut behind her.
Letting out a sigh, I shook myself. “I’m going to go hit something.”
Although I would rather fuck this frustration out of me, I had no one that would accommodate that desire. It wasn’t like Coby had any interest in appeasing this ache inside of me. The guy couldn’t stand me. He wouldn’t talk to me. He wouldn’t even acknowledge that I existed. This was a fucked-up time, and I found myself wanting him even more. Call me a masochist but the fact he was being an asshole turned me on.
I was so screwed.
King’s Harlots, book 3
Rude – can be read as a standalone
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