Showing results for "mc" in Gothic

His Promise. Her Fear. His world. Their vows. Nashville Stanley is the Dark Horse MC. James Bishop doesn’t know who she is. She’s signed on the dotted line with instant regret. She’s made a huge mistake. He’s got more regrets than he can count. She knows the only way out is death. Her life is a mess. He knows he’s too old for her. She knows she’s too young for him. They will never work.

Grover Hughes is the president of the Dark Horse MC. Ryan Turner is the one who got away. Or rather, the one who ran away. She needs help and protection. He's too stubborn to follow his gut. She's too stubborn to beg. Their past was laced with betrayal. They were never meant to cross paths again. She could be everything he ever wanted. He could be the ruin of her.

Too young. Too old. Too wrong. Too good. Evan Hughes is the road captain for the Dark Horse MC. Spencer Maddison is back in town. She's an angry little sister. She would rather be anywhere but Pineville. He knows she's the one who got away. She has never moved on. Once, she was too young for him. Now, he knows that she's the one. If she would let him break down her walls. He could be what she always dreamed of.

No strings. No promises. No emotions. Just the sweet release of giving my body over to someone else, someone who doesn’t know who I am or the things I’ve done. Highdive can give me that. The Sergeant at Arms for the Dark Sons isn’t looking for anything serious, making him the perfect match for my time at their club. And for a few sinfully delicious weeks, he is everything I need.

Strong. Fierce. Unshakeable. Three things I've always strived to be. But life is unexpected. It's confusing. It's cruel. All it takes is one blink, one blip in time, and your life is changed irrevocably. I knew he would come for me. What I didn't anticipate was how much I would need him. He locked me up and told me I was his forever.

Es ist kein Märchen. Aber es könnte eines werden. Jedenfalls, sofern der Präsident des MC Sons of Ragnarök das Sagen hat. Wie das Licht einer Straßenlaterne einen Nachtfalter, so zieht mich die zarte Gestalt auf dem dunklen, menschenleeren Supermarktparkplatz an. Doch im Gegensatz zur Motte weiß ich ganz genau, dass es mein Verderben sein wird, wenn ich diesem Bedürfnis nachgebe. Kann mich das zurückhalten? Gottverdammt! Natürlich nicht. Ohne Rücklagen ein Kosmetikstudio eröffnen? Mit Mitte zwanzig sollte das prinzipiell kein Problem darstellen.