Rabbit:They say combat trauma can be the noose you hang from, the cross you bear, or the cliff you scale to survive. But I was a f*ck up long before my Army enlistment and the resulting PTSD. Thanks to the veteran MC that took me in, I’m coping with my condition. Mostly.Until her.
The Complete Package. She’s way out of my league. I shouldn’t have a chance in hell with Elenore, but I got a peek under her hood and the sexy scientist has a screw loose.
Good thing I’m the best damn mechanic in Seattle.
Elenore:I never once contemplated murder until my sister showed up bruised and bloody on my doorstep. Now, my intellect has overridden my morals to create an extermination plan with a 98.3% success rate.Relax, I won’t actually kill anyone. Probably.
But he might.
Who knew I’d find a kindred spirit in my self-appointed tattooed biker bodyguard? Rabbit’s alarmingly protective but the most fascinating person I’ve ever met. And the sight of his bare chest just made the lock on my bedroom door spontaneously combust.
A tempest on the outside with a soft, gooey center, he could be the one.
If I’m strong enough to love him.
The Dead Presidents MC is a brotherhood of military veterans formed to help vets reintegrate into civilian society. They’re the good guys… mostly. Complete, standalone HEA love stories. No cheating, no cliffhangers.
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EXCERPT:
Rabbit
Elenore hadn’t flipped out on me for invading her privacy. Nor had she asked me to leave. If she dropped her towel and started dressing right there in front of me, I’d likely cream the inside of my jeans. She was perfect. And not just because she was brainy, beautiful, and had her shit together, but because she was fucking weird. I’d been through her entire apartment, and nothing was out of place. Her closet was arranged by color with pictures of her goddamn outfits to keep them straight. Nobody was naturally this clean, organized, and meticulous.
Elenore had a screw loose.
Which meant I might actually have a chance with her.
“You left the door open,” I blurted out, sounding like a fucking idiot.
“To my apartment. Not my bedroom.”
“It wasn’t locked.”
She added pants to the pile of clothes in her arms and turned to face me. “I need to get dressed.”
I wanted to tell her to go right ahead but decided not to push my luck. Still clutching the sexy photos I’d filched, I said, “These are mine.”
Author Bio:
International bestselling author Harley Stone specializes in imperfect characters, realistic storylines, scorching hot sex scenes, and fun, witty dialogue. She's always up for a good adventure (real or fictional), and when she's not building imaginary worlds, she's dipping her toes into reality in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and their five sons and two dogs.
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