Reapers MC 1 - Reaper's Property,

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//-->Reaper’s PropertyJoanna WyldeMarie doesn’t need a complication like Horse. The massive, tattooed, badass bikerwho shows up at her brother’s house one afternoon doesn’t agree. He wants Marie on hisbike and in his bed. Now.But Marie just left her abusive jerk of an ex-husband and she’s not looking for a newman. Especially one like Horse—she doesn’t know his real name or where he lives, she’sninety percent certain he’s a criminal and that the “business” he talks with her brotherisn’t website design. She needs him out of her life, which would be a snap if he’d juststop giving her mind-blowing orgasms.Horse is part of the Reapers Motorcycle Club, and when he wants something, he takesit. What he wants is Marie, but she’s not interested in becoming “property of”.Then her brother steals from the club. Marie can save him by giving Horse what hewants—at home, in public, on his bike… If she’s a very, very good girl, she’ll get lotsmore of those orgasms only he can offer, and he’ll let her brother live.Maybe.A Romantica®contemporary erotic romancefrom Ellora’s CaveREAPER'SPROPERTYJoanna WyldeDedicationI want to express my appreciation to Raelene Gorlinsky, the editor and publisher whowouldn’t give up on me, and my test readers, Mary and Alicia. Thanks also to myhusband who is endlessly supportive of all my creative efforts. Finally, a special thanks tomy first editor, Martha Punches, who has continually encouraged me to keep writingeven though I took so many years off. Martha, you were right about past progressivetense verbs, and I was wrong…Chapter OneEastern Washington, Yakima ValleySept. 17—Present DayMarieCrap, there were bikes outside the trailer.Three Harleys and a big maroon truck I didn’t recognize.Good thing I’d stopped by the grocery store on the way home. It had already been along day and the last thing I wanted to do was to run out and buy even more food, butthe guys always wanted to eat. Jeff hadn’t given me any extra beer money and I didn’twant to ask him—not with his money troubles. It wasn’t like I paid rent. For a guy whoseentire mission in life was to smoke pot and play video games, my brother Jeff had done alot for me over the past three months. I owed him and I knew it.I’d already grabbed some beer and ground beef that’d been on sale. I’d planned onburgers, buns and chips for the two of us, but I always made extra, for leftovers. Gabbyhad given me a watermelon she’d picked up in Hermiston that weekend. I even had a bigpotato salad all made up for the potluck after work tomorrow. I’d have to stay up latemaking another one but I could handle that.I smiled, thankful something in my life was going right. Less than a minute to planand I’d figured out a meal—might not be gourmet, but it wouldn’t embarrass Jeff either.I pulled up next to the bikes, careful to leave them plenty of room. I’d been terrified ofthe Reapers the first time they’d come over. Anyone would be. They looked likecriminals, all tattooed and wearing black leather vests covered in patches. They cussedand drank and could be rude and demanding, but they’d never stolen or brokenanything. Jeff had warned me about them lots of times but he also considered themfriends. I’d decided he was exaggerating about the danger, for the most part. I meanHorse was dangerous enough, but not because of any criminal activity…Anyway, I think Jeff did some web design for them or something. Some kind ofbusiness. Why a motorcycle club needed a website I had no idea, and the one time I’dasked him about it he told me not to ask.Then he’d scuttled off to the casino for two days.I got out of the car and went around back to grab the groceries, almost scared to seewhether Horse’s bike was in the lineup. I wanted to see him so bad it hurt but wasn’tsure what I’d say if I did. It’s not like he’d answered my text messages. But I couldn’thelp myself, I had to check for him, so I grabbed my groceries and walked over to thebikes to scope them out before going inside.I don’t know much about bikes, but I knew enough to recognize his. It’s big and sleekand black. Not all bright and decorated the way you sometimes see bikes on the freeway.Just big and fast, with giant, fat tailpipes off the back and more testosterone than shouldbe legal.The motorcycle was almost as beautiful as the man who rode it. Almost. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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