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!
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!”
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