Release Date: March 26, 2020 Cover Design: Designs by L~
I’m a cold hearted criminal, and I’ve lived a callous life as the Sergeant at Arms of the Vicious Vipers MC. I spent most of my childhood as a victim, and because of the junkie who raised me, I hate to be touched.
The social worker my fingers itch to reach for—she’s wholesome. Kind. Too good for a man like me, and yet, I can’t curb my weakness to be near her.
When one of her teenage clients needs protection from the same type of man who hurt my sister, I know I’ll be revealing my true self, my darker side, to help the girl.
I’ll lose the only person I’ve found who values my feelings above her own—the woman whose sweet nature is a force to be reckoned with.
I know I should walk away, but how do I leave the heart I didn’t know I still had behind?
*This is the third book in the Vicious Vipers MC series and may be unsuitable for someone under 18 years of age. HEA guaranteed, however, secondary characters make appearances in other’s stories. Reading in order is recommended.
The sun hit my face along with hot, humid air stinking of exhaust, and I turned toward my bike.
Head down, focused on a cell, a woman hurried toward me, and I scuttled sideways to escape her fast clip.
Not fucking fast enough.
She slammed into my side and grasped hold of my bare forearm, a squeak of surprise ripping from her mouth as her cell clattered to the sidewalk.
“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She lessened her grip on my arm, and I clenched my teeth as my stomach knotted fast as fuck.
I hated to be touched.
Not wanting to be a complete asshole, I didn’t shake off her hold but waited for her to steady herself in her sandals. Her soft touch burned my skin. Sent a shot of need to lash out with my fists along with an energetic zap to my dick I hadn’t felt in years.
I pulled away the second I could and bent to retrieve her cell while she righted her purse and the sweater she had draped over one arm.
Standing, I handed her the phone she’d dropped.
Straight blonde hair brushed her shoulders, her blue-green eyes and pale lashes unframed or painted by makeup. Pink flushed her cheeks, and she pressed her lips together, drawing my focus to the sparkling gloss coating them while reaching for her cell.
I made sure to keep our fingers from touching. “Not a problem,” I stated with a gruffness I hadn’t meant to do while noting the flush across her chest and the hint of cleavage peeking at the top of her plain, buttoned up blouse.
She smiled up at me, a plain-Jane yet classically beautiful woman who smelled like fresh, juicy watermelon.
My mouth watered, and I stepped back out of her way. With a dip of my head, I moved around her, intent on my bike—and escaping the weird vibe breaking me out into a sweat atop the bright as fuck sun.
It is the heat, I told myself while fighting the need to look over my shoulder. See if her back was as pretty as her front, even if she hadn’t dressed to showcase the curves I’d caught a glimpse of.
The bike roared to life between my thighs, and I glanced toward Dunks while pulling on my helmet. She’d gone inside, escaping the heat, but I couldn’t see her past the glare of the sun on the shop’s windows.
Lips set in a line, I put on my shades and pulled out, already sweating through my t-shirt.
Lynn Burke is a full time mother, voracious gardener, and scribbler of spicy romance stories. A country bumpkin turned Bay Stater, she enjoys her chowdah and Dunkin Donuts when not trying to escape the reality of city life.