When I was ten, I was a naïve, shy girl. A girl who dreamed of sunsets and roller skates. Until my grandparents died. Then I found myself alone in the world. One bad thing after another seemed to find me but I dealt. I dealt because a man with a black leather jacket and ink from head to toe, told me how to survive this world. He told me that, sometimes, you have to get mean. And so, I embraced my mean. I hated it at first but as time went on, being mean became second nature.

I might be the first man to join the Cerberus MC and not love it. Instead of leaving, I bide my time, knowing that I burn every bridge I cross. When an opportunity plucks me from the desert of New Mexico and transplants me in East Tennessee I feel a little better about the path my life has taken. The new job isn't as solitary as I expected it to be. Instead of doing reconnaissance alone, I'm stuck sitting at a bar, trying to determine if they're using the business as a human trafficking hub.

Tate Gallo had a type – emotionally unavailable bikers who were more feral than serious relationship material. The day she turned thirty, she decided to make a change: No more biker boys. She deserved more. She wanted to be someone’s world. But then he stumbled in bloodied, bruised, and in need of help. One look into his dark eyes, and Tate realized her life would never be the same again. She wouldn’t fall for him. She couldn’t, not for her heart’s sake. But one kiss never hurt anyone…right?

The first day that she walked onto the surgical floor that Chevy Clayborne spent most of his time on, he knew that he’d do anything to make her his. For two years, he played the long game. He slowly insinuated himself into her life, and the moment that she needed him, he swooped in like the knight in shining armor that he only pretended to be but most assuredly wasn’t. He’s no real knight. In fact, he’s the villain in everyone’s story but his own.

As the VP of Kings of Retribution MC, I live and breathe club life. After suffering the loss of two women in my life, I grew cold and indifferent to the idea of love. I don't need to let anyone in. I've seen the aftermath it can leave in its quake. The last thing I'm looking for is someone to fill the void, until Bella Jameson.

Kincaid: Hero complex? Possessive? Not afraid to speak my mind? Check, check, and check. I'm also president of the Cerberus MC, a former Marine, and Emmalyn Mikaelson doesn't have a clue what she's gotten herself into by jumping on the back of my bike. Shadow: I'm no stranger to a woman warming my bed. What's new for me is being the one ghosted. So imagine my surprise when the girl who decided I wasn't enough shows up on my doorstep burdened with the consequences of her own lies and deceit.

I thought coming to this unknown town would keep me out of trouble, that it would be the perfect place to hide and start a new life. Instead, I found myself a different kind of trouble. The kind of trouble that makes good girls like me want to be all kinds of bad. This obsessed hero is dark and dirty and willing to unleash all kinds of evil to protect the woman he loves. Hold on tight while he takes you on a fast and sexy ride in this stand-alone motorcycle club romance with no cheating, minimal angst, and a guaranteed HEA.

Our pasts were a part of us. Definitively. Irrevocably. Mine hijacked my dreams every night, drowning me in guilt and staining my hands red. It wasn't just a part of me, it stole a piece of me—the piece that stopped me from letting people get too close. And I'd become pretty damn good at playing the untouchable asshole card just to keep them away. But apparently, Dakota Samuels didn't get that memo.

My family betrayed me. Tossed me out onto the street at seventeen. But with a reputation to keep, my parents decided they would rather see their daughter homeless than have my teenage pregnancy taint the perfect facade they'd created. I swore I'd never again let another person close enough to hurt my little girl or me. Yet, every wall I built, he smashed straight through. Hawk wasn't just the VP of The Exiled Eight MC in Detroit. He was alluring. He was possessive. And the scars that decorated his skin told the story of a dark past.

Being the MC President's daughter was never going to be an easy life. Not in general, not in love. Especially when the guy meant for you isn't yours to have. And that's just one of the many reasons why I'm going away. Back to my ancestral lands, where everything is simple and pure. Where I can do some good. And I'm not coming back.

Griffin Storm wasn't prone to violence, but when someone takes what Griffin holds dear, the world as he knows it is gone. Retaliation, revenge, and rage fuels him. His MC, The Uncertain Saints, do their best to offer support, but Griffin is beyond redemption. He'll do what he has to do. Kill who he has to kill.

The rules were simple: Go to Vegas and get a feel for the place before you start the real work in a week. Under no circumstances are we supposed to get involved with a case. Yet after less than a week in town, I find myself married to a woman I don't know because she got herself tangled up with some really bad guys. It was meant to be a rescue, a problem easily solved, but as it turns out, life never works the way you think it will. The contract Kaylee signed demands two years of service before she's able to make another move.

Serious relationships? Not my usual ride. As the Prez of the Steel Demons MC, my life has always been all about the thrill of the chase. But lately, those club bunny flings ain't cutting it. Deep down, I crave something more real, something with meaning. Then, outta nowhere, my past roars back. A night from five years ago, a hazy memory, and in a flash—a son I never knew about. This is how Ellie comes into my life, the game-changer. Her sister's vanished, and she's been raising my kid all by herself. The moment I lock eyes with Ellie, I'm hooked.

I've been called many things, most of which are true. But when you're an outlaw, you wear those words like badges of honor on your cut. I grew up in the Devil's Skull MC. It's all I know. It's all I've ever wanted to be.

As your paralegal (and ex), I have to be honest: You’re a horrible lawyer. Honestly, the worst I’ve ever seen. You never communicate, you pile on overtime, and you’re constantly in a bad mood. Now, about those panties on your desk. No, that wasn’t a desperate cry for your attention. It was the result of a lost bet with my roommate. But if you were even half the lawyer you claim to be, you’d have figured that out without all the ego-tripping.