Author: Nicole Jacquelyn
Series: Aces, #4
Published by Self-Published
Release Date November 2014
Genres: Erotic Romance, New Adult Romance
More Info: Goodreads
Craving Resurrection Prologue
I wasn’t nervous as I rolled through the open gate, though I did hope that I’d followed the right directions and an axe murderer wasn’t waiting for me at the end of the lane. My new Prius was so ridiculously quiet that I could hear every crunch of pavement under the tires. I could even hear the crickets chirping out in the trees to my left—though that was likely made possible by my four rolled down windows. I hated driving with the windows rolled up that time of year. Everything in Oregon smelled so fresh in the spring with new flowers blooming and the hint of rain almost always in the air. It was so different from where I’d lived for the past twenty odd years that I couldn’t get enough of it.
The road forked like he’d said it did, and at the end of the road on the left sat the big building I was searching for. I took a deep breath of relief when I saw the line of bikes backed up against it. Clearly, I was in the right place. Patrick had given me pretty vague directions when we’d spoken a couple months before, but I don’t think he’d imagined me ever actually coming to his clubhouse—especially without speaking to him first.
His number had burned a hole in my metaphorical pocket for months, but I’d refused to call him. I wanted to get my life situated before I dealt with his shit, and I didn’t think that was in any way unreasonable. Unfortunately, he’d disagreed.
I hadn’t called him, but the man had been relentless calling and texting me for months. The texting had been a bit ridiculous, because the asshole was so well-read that I knew he could spell anything, but I swear to God every single text looked like a five year old had written it. I’d finally realized after numerous texts that I had no chance of deciphering, that his thumbs must have been too big for the tiny keyboard, and once the autocorrect had tried to help the messages were a complete mess. It took less than a week for the messages to change from wondering how I was doing to bitching that I hadn’t contacted him. The only reason I’d even known that much was because he hadn’t been satisfied with texts, all phone calls had also been followed up with livid voicemails.
Like he had a right to expect anything from me.
I shook my head as I climbed out of my car and flipped my heavy silver hair over my shoulder. I’d pulled half of it back in a thick loose ponytail near the base of my neck, and for a second, I wished I would have brought a larger rubber band so I could pull it all up and make it less conspicuous. A bandana wouldn’t have gone amiss either.
God, what was I thinking?
I’d worked hard to be where I was, and I’d been comfortable in my own skin for a long fucking time. I wasn’t about to become self-conscious about something as stupid as my looks. I was strong, capable, and smart—those were the things that mattered. Besides, I looked damn good for a woman who was over forty years old. Yoga had kept me slim and good genes and clean living had kept my skin tight and my boobs perky. I wasn’t going to cower, goddammit. I didn’t cower for anyone.
There was an open door to the right of some large garage bays that were closed for the night, and I made my way there with my shoulders pulled back and my chin held high. I knew I should have been afraid of walking into a room of bikers I didn’t know, but I wasn’t.
I wasn’t really afraid of anything. I think that might be what happens when you live through something you never imagined you’d survive. Everything else seems trivial in comparison.
The place was loud, with men in leather vests peppered around the room and half-naked young women both big and small sitting on laps and preening for anyone who was looking. Good lord. It was like a frat house with old men. I’m pretty sure I saw a movie like that once…
“Amy, you look beautiful, as always,” a gravelly voice murmured behind me, making me spin around.
“Charlie.” I smiled huge as I took in his face, so much older than I remembered. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”
“Not surprised to see you, sure as shit surprised at what you’re wearing.” He answered with a grin, leaning in to kiss my cheek. “Knew he saw ya a few months back, but he didn’t say a word about the get-up. When’d you become a fuckin’ tree hugger?”
“Probably about the time you became president.”
“Fuck, that long? Please tell me you still shave your shit.” He leaned in to lift my arm to check for armpit hair and I couldn’t help the loud barking laugh that burst out of my mouth.
“Don’t be a dick.”
“Ah, still taking care of it I see.” He winked, squeezing my arm gently. “I remember Poet going on and on about how you shaved your pussy way back when.”
“Shut the fuck up!” God, I couldn’t believe that he could still embarrass me with a few carefully chosen words.
“Who the hell…” A new voice came from the side and I took a deep breath as I turned to take the speaker in. She was wearing a Harley tank-top and blinged out jeans and I would have known her anywhere. “Holy shit. Amy?”
“Hey Vera.” I felt my throat get tight as her face broke into a huge grin.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Damn, you look good!” She smelled like vanilla perfume and cigarettes as she wrapped her skinny arms around me, and I couldn’t help but hug her tight. I’d missed these two. Maybe if things would have been different… no, I wouldn’t think about that.
“Look at your hair!” she said, leaning back to run her fingers over my head. “Goddamn, it’s gorgeous. You here to see Poet?”
“Poet? That’s the name he uses?” I asked, rolling my eyes.
“Road name. Someone else picked it.”
“Right.” I nodded. “Yeah, where is he?”
“I’ll get him.” Charlie said quickly with a small smile.
“Slider,” Vera warned.
“Slider?” I snorted. “I don’t even wanna know where that came from. No worries, just show me where he is. I don’t give a rat’s ass what he’s doing. I just need to talk to him real quick.”
Char—Slider ran his hand over his slicked back hair, and gave me a cautious nod before placing his hand between my shoulder blades to lead me through the room.
“You come see me before you leave!” Vera called out as we left her behind.
He led me through a doorway and into a hallway that ran the length of the building, stopping a few rooms down, where I could hear someone giggling through the door.
“Poet, open up brother!” Slider called out as I slid between him and the doorframe and pushed my way into the room before he could stop me.
Patrick must not have heard us, because he was on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with a small grin on his face as a woman in only a g-string told some kind of story complete with animated hand gestures. She was young, I could see that much, and she had a generic tribal tramp stamp on her lower back that he was tracing with the fingers of one hand.
Aw, how cute.
“’I missed you’ he said,” I commented loudly in a thick accent, walking into the room as his head snapped up. “How’d I live so long without ya? Come home with me. You’re beautiful.”
I sat down at the edge of the bed and sighed dramatically. “All lies.”
“Who the fuck are you?” she asked, eyes wide, while Slider laughed, making no move to leave the doorway.
“Jesus Christ!” Poet hissed, pushing the girl off his lap.
“I’ve never loved anyone the way I love ya lass.” My voice dropped into his accent again, my tone growing more serious.
I shook my head slowly as I stood, then I finally raised my eyes to his and swallowed hard letting him see exactly how I felt about the situation we were in. His jaw went tight and his eyes grew sad as he watched me, a thousand words unsaid between us.
When Slider realized the show was no longer a funny one and left the doorway, I finally moved my gaze to the woman eyeing me in annoyance, her long fingers with bright red nails barely covering her fake breasts. I wanted to stare right back and scoff at her gravity defying breasts and tiny hips, but I didn’t let my eyes stray from hers.
I’d shoved my way into a private moment and she had no reason to be embarrassed. I refused to make her even more uncomfortable. She seemed nice enough while she was making Patrick smile, and even though a part of me hated it, she hadn’t done anything to deserve disrespect from me.
Because of those things, I answered her as gently as I could.
“I’m his wife.”
“How is it, that someone can make decision after decision attempting to get away from their past and somehow end up right back where they started?”
When Brenna decided to leave the only life she’d ever known, she never thought she’d ever be back. Now, five years later she’s running from her clean cut husband straight back to the motorcycle club that raised her… and the man she left behind. She left with a secret, and as soon as she returns the truth will break her carefully constructed life wide open.
Asa and Callie had nothing in common. He was an Ace, raised in the club and loyal to it above all else. She was a high school student with braces on her teeth and a narrow view of the world.
They should have never crossed paths.
But when Callie decides to defy her parents, and Asa goes on an errand for the club, their lives collide. He saves her, and she mesmerizes him.
They part believing they’ll never see each other again.
Neither could have predicted the chain of events they’d put in motion.
Now the two have to navigate the dark waters of a relationship built on tragedy and need without drowning in guilt for things outside their control.
How do you love someone when the worst decision of your life was the reason you met them?
Farrah Miller and Cody “Casper” Butler have a longstanding relationship that both refuse to discuss.
It isn’t romantic.
It may not even be classified as a friendship.
Casper’s been saving Farrah from herself for longer than he’d care to admit, watching silently as she drowned herself in alcohol. Then, when she finally got her act together, he left. He told himself he was giving her time to sort herself out. He tried to give her space.
But getting shot in the chest can change a man’s perspective, and Casper’s done waiting.
When he shows up on her doorstep one night, everything changes.
He’s the man who’s seen her at her very worst.
She’s his weakness.
He runs when things get hard.
She never lets anyone see below the surface and is terrified of being abandoned.
He knows it’s a long shot, that there’s a good chance she’ll never drop her guard for him—but he has to try. Because a life with Farrah is exactly what he wants—even if he has to fight her for it.