Publisher: Changeling Press
Cover Artist: Bryan Keller
Alora – I’ve prided myself on being a strong, independent woman and not needing anyone. I didn’t become a bestselling author by the age of twenty out of pure dumb luck. I worked my tail off to get as far as I have. But there are few perks to having a man in my life. Laughter, romance, and companionship. Battery operated boyfriends can only do so much. Too bad the guy who sets me on fire is a bossy biker who wants to claim me. No way I’m letting him label me as property. Nope. Not happening. Doesn’t matter if he does make my knees weak and my heart race. I’m not giving in!
Rooster – Of all the women to capture my interest, it had to be the most stubborn, sexy, adorable woman on the planet. I love her mind, her sense of humor, and the way she fills out a pair of shorts. I don’t even mind that she’s an exhibitionist, as long as no one touches. Doesn’t matter to me her uncles were both rotten to the core. The Devil’s Fury may think she belongs to them, but I have other plans. Alora will be mine — no matter the cost.
WARNING: Rooster is part of the Devil’s Boneyard MC series. There are adult situations and bad language. No cliffhanger. Happily-ever-after and laughter guaranteed!
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Copyright ©2021 Harley Wylde
The front door nearly rattled off the hinges when someone started pounding on it. If I hadn’t known King Kong was a fictional character, I’d think he was on my porch. What the hell?
I narrowed my eyes in the direction of the front entry and went to answer it. It wasn’t like I knew anyone in town. I’d only been here a month, which made it doubtful I’d pissed anyone off — yet. I yanked it open, ready to tear into whoever was on the other side, but stopped and stared.
The man arched his eyebrows and tipped his sunglasses down enough to peer over the top of them. God, why did I find that so sexy? He’d braced an arm against the doorframe and his muscles bulged. I licked my lips and tried to remember how to speak. As my gaze skimmed over him, it snagged on the black leather over his shoulders. Fuck. It was one of the bikers.
Rooster – Devil’s Boneyard MC.
“You going to let me in, a ghrá?”
His voice sent chills down my spine and my nipples hardened against my thin tank. He smirked, clearly knowing the effect he had on me. Asshole.
“I don’t let strangers into my home,” I said. I peered over his shoulder and saw another man on a motorcycle at the curb. It seemed only one of them wanted to come into the house. Thank goodness for small favors.
He leaned in, the scent of cinnamon and cloves making me want to breathe in deep. “But we’re not strangers. You’re Twister’s niece, which makes you Devil’s Fury property. Since we consider them family, that makes you mine.”
My knees nearly buckled at his words. His? I wasn’t sure I’d survive belonging to someone like him. He made Colorado seem more like a puppy. And that Irish lilt to his words! Holy hell. If I’d been wearing panties, they’d have been soaked. As it was, my pajamas shorts were getting an embarrassing wet spot on them. I hoped like hell no one noticed.
I felt the heat of someone behind me. The growl from the biker told me it was probably Officer Murray. Why did I get the feeling everything was about to go to shit? So much for multiple orgasms and writing three chapters before midnight. I sighed and stepped back, elbowing the officer out of the way so Rooster could step into the house.
Gypsy, traitor that she was, immediately went to Rooster and rubbed against him, begging for attention. Same, girl. Same. As he scratched behind her ears, I wondered what those hands would feel like on my body.
“Want me to take out the trash?” Rooster asked, eyeing Officer Murray.
“He’s here with the IRS auditor,” I said.
Rooster folded his arms. “You’re being audited? What the fuck for?”
My cheeks warmed. “Um…”
“She claimed sex toys on her return,” the auditor yelled out from the other room.
Were we just telling everyone that shit now? Wasn’t there a confidentiality clause or something? Rooster covered his mouth, but it didn’t do any good. I’d seen the smile and heard the snicker he’d let slip loose. Damnit. Now he’d go back to his biker brothers and word would spread. The romance author was buying sex toys and writing them off on her taxes. I could just imagine the types of calls and invitations I’d receive after that news hit the clubhouse. Fuck my life.