From New York Times Bestselling author Joanna Wylde comes ROME’S CHANCE, a new novella in her Reapers MC series, brought to you by 1,001 Dark Nights! Be sure to grab your copy today!
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Joanna Wylde comes a new story in her Reapers MC series…
Rome McGuire knew he was in trouble the first time he saw her.
She was sweet and pretty and just about perfect in every way. She was also too young and innocent for the Reapers Motorcycle Club. He did the right thing, and walked away.
The second time, he couldn’t resist tasting her.
Gorgeous and smart, fun and full of wonder, she jumped on his bike and would’ve followed him anywhere. Still, she deserved a shot at happiness somewhere bigger and better than a town like Hallies Falls. Walking away wasn’t so easy that time, but her family needed her and he had a job to do.
When she came around a third time, he’d had enough. Randi Whittaker had been given two chances to escape, and now it was time for Rome to take his.
This time, the only way Randi would be leaving Hallies Falls was on the back of Rome’s bike.
Grab your copy of ROME’S CHANCE today!
Every time I pick up a Joanna Wylde book I fall in love all over again. Each time it’s a different kind of love, with different complexities, different heart breaks, but that happily ever after is always guaranteed.
This is exactly what I loved about Rome & Randi‘s second chance at romance. Stories like this are why happy endings can’t happen on the first try, because that second time around is needed to happen the way it needs to happen.
For a biker Rome was incredibly sweet and gentle (of course in a biker way of his) with Randi. Randi who has run away from being the mother to her siblings only to come back for a high school reunion to see what she left behind. Or rather what she put on hold.
The novella is short but gets right to the point. If you are a fan of Reapers MC then this must be in your kindle already.
“Randi?” I froze, because I knew that voice.
The sound was rough and sexy, with just a hint of a growl. Deeper than it’d been eight years ago, when I’d thrown caution to the wind and hopped on the back of his motorcycle for one glorious night.
Back then, I’d still been a shy little thing, terrified that some hot biker might actually want to talk to me, let alone take me out. When I caught him watching me at the party, I remembered studying the floor, his shirt collar, even the beer in my plastic cup, because I hadn’t known what to do with myself around such raw male glory. Apparently some things never change, because when I turned to face him, I found myself staring at the floor again.
This was a mistake, because his feet were down there. And the battered, black leather boots he wore led to jeans-covered legs. Legs topped by thick, muscular thighs.
Stop it. You’re acting like a giant dork! My brain hissed.
Oblivious and mesmerized, my gaze rose to the faded denim around his fly, and it was all over. My eyes started tracing the folds of the Okanogan Fire and Rescue T-shirt covering his still-muscular chest, although the Reapers Motorcycle Club vest he wore was a change. Back then, he’d been hanging around the Nighthawk Raiders MC. That whole club had disappeared for reasons I’d never fully understood, and the Reapers had taken over the town shortly afterward. Apparently Rome was one of them now.
I’d always wondered what’d happened to Rome after I’d left. We’d never said goodbye. That summer, the wildfires had swept through so fast that my family had to evacuate with the clothes on our backs. We hadn’t bothered to come back and sift through the ashes.
I’d kept in touch with my old boss, Tinker, of course.
I’d even considered asking her about Rome, but in some ways those fires were the best thing that ever happened to me. Starting over meant starting college in Missoula, and then a whole new life.
Wasn’t like Rome and I could’ve ever been anything real, anyway. Guys like him weren’t for girls like me.
My gaze reached his neck, which bristled with thick, black stubble that was more than a little out of control—this was different from when I’d known him before. Not that he’d ever been baby-faced, but he’d definitely matured. Now there were a few wrinkles around those dark blue eyes, although the dimple was still there. So was the crooked smile that’d spontaneously combusted my panties.
A crooked smile that was currently combusting my panties. Who knew that a supermarket could be such dangerous territory?
“Been a long time,” he said. I shrugged, unsure what to say. I mean, yeah, we’d gone out on a date. He’d kissed me and wow… Not that we’d gotten much past second base, but he’d scored a home run in the lower deck of my ballpark, if you know what I mean. But he was one of those guys—you know, the kind of guys who hit lots of home runs with lots of girls.
“Yeah, well…” My words trailed off.
Joanna Wylde started her writing career in journalism, working in two daily newspapers as both a reporter and editor. Her career has included many different jobs, from managing a homeless shelter to running her own freelance writing business, where she took on projects ranging from fundraising to ghostwriting for academics. During 2012 she got her first Kindle reader as a gift and discovered the indie writing revolution taking place online. Not long afterward she started cutting back her client list to work on Reaper’s Property, her breakout book. It was published in January 2013, marking the beginning of a new career writing fiction.
Joanna lives in the mountains of northern Idaho with her family.