SERIES: Dirty Angels MC #1
AUTHOR: Jeanne St. James
AGE GROUP: Adult
GENRE: Steamy Contemporary Romance
RELEASE DATE: September 10, 2017
PUBLISHER: Jeanne St. James
PAGES: Approx. 244
BOOK BLURB:
Welcome to Shadow Valley where the Dirty Angels MC rule. Get ready to get Down & Dirty because this is Zak’s story…
After spending the last ten years in prison, Zak, former DAMC president, has a few priorities: to reconnect with his “brothers,” to get drunk, and to get laid. Not necessarily in that order. When he spots a stunning woman in the clubhouse and mistakes her for one of the club’s strippers, those priorities get a bit skewed.
Sophie has no idea what happened to her life. One minute she’s totally focused on building her bakery business, and the next? She’s delivering a cake to the Dirty Angels motorcycle club’s “homecoming” celebration for a member who just got out of prison. Little does she know baking that cake will change the rest of her life, not to mention, make her a target for a rival MC. Normally, Sophie wouldn’t be caught dead with a man like Zak, a tattooed, ex-con, badass biker.
When a decades old territory war threatens to rip them apart, Zak will do anything to keep Sophie, his club, and the town safe. But being from two different worlds, the threat they’re under may not be worth the risk.
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EXCERPT
Sophie had no idea what happened to her life. One minute she’s totally focused on building her bakery business, and the next?
She closed her eyes and groaned. Somehow the next, she’s being pulled through a crowd of rowdy bikers and their “bitches” in the cold night air, heading toward a roaring bonfire that appeared to be made up of a mountain of wood pallets. The flames licked halfway to heaven.
As Zak strode forward, Sophie leaned back trying to slow him down a bit. She was wearing her very favorite suede knee-high boots. The brown ones that had a really nice heel on them that made her legs look longer. And slimmer. Because that was important, too. However, the heel didn’t make it easy to walk in the dark over stones, dead grass and rough patches of dirt.
She had a feeling she would end up on her ass. She should have worn sneakers instead.
Especially since she wasn’t trying to impress anyone here.
She didn’t even want to be here in the first place.
How the hell did she even end up here tonight?
The man currently hauling her around left pissed off last night and she had no clue why he even insisted on pursuing her... pursuing this. Whatever the hell this was.
The worst part was she had shut down the bakery early, locked the door, turned off all the lights, and went upstairs to hide just in case he did show up at eight. Like he had threatened.
And when eight-oh-five came around and he hadn’t shown up, she had breathed a sigh of relief. But then, she should have realized that bikers probably weren’t prompt or watched the time. Life apparently revolved around them, not the clock.
Nope, fuck everyone else.
So, she left the lights off in her apartment, too, and wearing a pair of yoga pants and an old, soft sweatshirt, she sank onto her couch to catch up on some TV.
Well, that was until there was a man in black standing before her, hands on his hips.
And if that didn’t make her scream and her heart beat a million miles a minute, nothing would.
She had no idea how he got in or why she didn’t hear him. Maybe he was right about the shop needing better security.
She needed it just to keep him out.
But as he stood over her, her stomach dropped—once it stopped spinning. Holy Hannah, even in the glow of the TV he looked good with his badass clothes, his badass tats, and his badass bod.
He jerked his stubbled chin in her direction. “That what you’re wearing?”
“How did you get in here?”
“Told you I’d be here at eight.”
She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “I locked the door.”
“I know. Diesel will be makin’ your place more secure.”
He knew someone named after fuel. Okay, then.
“Question was: That what you’re wearin’?”
She looked down at her clothes, then back up at him. He was judging her clothing choices? “Uh, no. I’m not going.”
He blinked slowly as if trying to keep his patience. “Babe.”
Maybe he should be more worried about her patience. “My name is Sophie.”
“Know what your name is.”
“Babe is a pig in a movie.”
She swore she heard him snort. Though, it sounded much sexier than a pig.
“Got wraps. We can stay here and fuck, or we can go to church.”
Sophie heard the silent, “And then fuck,” he was tacking onto the end of that in his mind.
Wasn’t much of a choice. “How about neither. I hate church.”
This time he definitely snorted. He leaned over and switched on the lamp next to the couch. Sophie squinted as her eyes adjusted to the light.
Hot damn, he looked even better in the light.
Fuck her life.
His beard was freshly trimmed tight to his jaw, his hair actually looked like he ran a comb through it even though it had a shaggy, sexy tousled look to it. His eyes were lit up with amusement.
Then there was the rest of him. He had a well-fitting pair of Levi’s encasing his long legs which ended at his black biker boots, of course. And on her way back up, she noticed the same belt as yesterday, and couldn’t forget that grimy black leather vest. Under it was a black thermal Henley that snugged his torso. And his muscular arms. And that muscular chest of his. She finally let her eyes rise to his and he wore a wide smile.
Cocky.
“Babe. Yeah, thinking stayin’ here and fuckin’ may be the choice you’ll be makin’. I brought a few.”
Sophie shook herself out of her daze. “A few what?”
“Wraps. Nothin’s gonna hold us back tonight.”
Well, that was a relief.
Not.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR...
Her first erotic romance novel, Banged Up, was published in 2009. She is happily owned by farting French bulldogs. She writes M/F, M/M, and M/M/F ménages. Want to read a sample of her work? Download a sampler book here: BookHip.com/MTQQKK
To keep up with her busy release schedule check her website at www.jeannestjames.com or sign up for her newsletter: http://www.jeannestjames.com/newslettersignup
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