Spotlight
Synopsis:
Poet Butler, the first female President of the outlaw motorcycle club, Hells Redemption, has one basic rule in life: Don’t date bikers, ever.
After she’s randomly jumped during a clubhouse party, she takes off to her house in the hills to avoid her men seeing the bruises she’s sporting. The one flaw in her plan is the man who found her and demands to come with her.
Titan Warren, the President of Bishops Reign, is an arrogant prick Poet can’t stand. He’s entitled, pushy, and attractive as hell, which only pushes her to dislike him more.
Can Poet’s strength withstand bloodshed and conspiracy as the world she once knew falls apart? Or will she crumble under the pressure, and lose everything she’s ever known?
Poet Butler, the first female President of the outlaw motorcycle club, Hells Redemption, has one basic rule in life: Don’t date bikers, ever.
After she’s randomly jumped during a clubhouse party, she takes off to her house in the hills to avoid her men seeing the bruises she’s sporting. The one flaw in her plan is the man who found her and demands to come with her.
Titan Warren, the President of Bishops Reign, is an arrogant prick Poet can’t stand. He’s entitled, pushy, and attractive as hell, which only pushes her to dislike him more.
Can Poet’s strength withstand bloodshed and conspiracy as the world she once knew falls apart? Or will she crumble under the pressure, and lose everything she’s ever known?
Excerpt
Eyes met hers as she gazed across the fire and she steeled herself. Of course he’d be there.
“Who the fuck invited Titan?” she asked Shakespeare, accepting the offer of a Camel. Lighting it, she breathed deeply, cursing internally. The small nap she’d taken earlier hadn’t given her enough patience to deal with the Pres and she couldn’t help but wish she was at her pop’s house in the hills. The man pissed her off, made her see red; when he was around she was constantly a hair trigger away from putting one between his eyes.
The man in question refused to look away as well, instead peering intently at her from across the way. She watched as he lifted a finger and crooked it, summoning her to him. Smiling sweetly, she seated her smoke in her mouth before lifting her own hand and flipping him off.
“Want him gone?”
“Nah. Bastard can stay where he is.”
“He wants to talk to you,” her VP added and she broke eye contact with Titan to look at him, arching an eyebrow. Shakespeare mirrored her before holding up a hand. “I ain’t sayin’ go to him – I’m just pointin’ it out.”
“Hmph,” she answered, rolling her shoulders. She hadn’t chosen to dress up with the rest of the ladies, instead choosing a pair of acid-washed, ripped, skinny jeans and a shredded ZZ Top tank with her shit kickers. Refusing to go anywhere unarmed, a habit born from her surroundings, she’d donned her smaller shoulder rig and it was digging into her flesh. It had nothing to do with the man staring a hole through her at the moment.
Poet could have sworn she heard Shakespeare murmur, “He wants to do more than just talk,” but when her gaze snapped to him, his mouth was firmly closed.
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