Blurb
First in the new Silver Valley series from the New York Times bestselling author of the
Reapers Motorcycle Club Novels.
Fourteen months. For fourteen months, Puck Redhouse sat in
a cell and kept his mouth shut, protecting the Silver Bastards MC from their
enemies. Then he was free and it was time for his reward--full membership in the
club, along with a party to celebrate. That's when he saw Becca Jones for the
first time and set everything in motion. Before the night ended he'd violated
his parole and stolen her away from everything she knew.
Five years. It was five years ago that Puck destroyed
Becca and saved her all in one night. She's been terrified of him ever since,
but she's even more terrified of the monsters he still protects her from... But
Becca refuses to let fear control her. She's living her life and moving
forward, until she gets a phone call from the past she can't ignore. She has to
go back, and there's only one man she can trust to go with her--the ex-con
biker who rescued her once before.
Puck will help her again, but this time it'll be on his
terms. No more lies, no more tears, and no more holding back what he really
wants...
Joanna Wylde is a New York Times bestselling author and
creator of the Reapers Motorcycle Club series. She currently lives in Idaho.
Meet Puck & Becca in SILVER BASTARD!
Now Live!
Amazon US: http://amzn.to/1L800mj
Amazon
UK: http://amzn.to/1Jo5nlE
Barnes &
Noble: http://bit.ly/19pOdnS
“What the
fuck happened out here?” Danielle asked, her arm suddenly around my shoulders.
I immediately felt better. Danielle and I balanced each other out perfectly—she
was batshit crazy and insanely optimistic. Make that
dangerously, recklessly optimistic. As
for me, I spent nearly all my time focused on staying sane and getting ahead.
That didn’t leave much time for things like actually living my life.
We’d met
each other our senior year of high school, when she’d offered to drive me back
and forth to town in her shiny new Jeep Wrangler. This spared me from the
horror of sharing a battered school bus with every hormonal teen living in the
greater Callup metropolitan area. After
a particularly harrowing ride home in her car one night (long story short, it
took us six hours to travel thirty miles and by the time we pulled into town,
we had matching tattoos of chipmunks wearing scarves) I decided it was my job
to keep her from accidentally killing herself.
In
return, she pushed me to do fun things, reminding me at least once a week that
I was only twenty-one and perhaps the fate of the universe didn’t literally
rest on whether or not I balanced my checkbook to the penny. Along the way, she
taught me how to do smoky eye makeup, how not
to freak out when a guy asked me to dance, and how to “borrow” music off
the Internet. (When I pointed out that “borrowing” music was stealing, she
agreed and started using iTunes for her downloads. To finance
this, she “borrowed” her dad’s credit card.)
“Well, apparently me and Blake no longer work
here,” I said, leaning my head against her. “I don’t know if you’re fired or
not.”
“Fuck that,” Danielle declared. “Eva can kiss
my ass. If you’re out, I’m out.”
“You
weren’t even part of it,” I protested.
“I don’t
care. You’re a much better waitress
than I am. If she fired you, no way I’d last there anyway. Let’s go get drunk!”
Comments
Post a Comment