Stolen Ride: Sons of Wolves MC, #1

By Naomi West

This is book 1 of the Sons of Wolves MC romance series! Books 2 and 3 are available everywhere now!

I stole a ride on the biker – and it got me pregnant.

One night of carelessness might haunt me forever.

And the outlaw's baby inside me won't let me forget the line I crossed.

But as war erupts around me, there's only one place I can turn to stay safe:

Right back into the biker's arms.

REX

The last thing I ever wanted was to be a father, ever since my old man skipped out on me before I was even born.

But damn him to hell.

Family's overrated, anyways.

I joined up with the Sons of Wolves Motorcycle Club and found the only brothers I'll ever need.

But try telling that to this girl down at Sal's Garage.

Her father's a lousy stinking drunk; what's more, he's the retired sheriff.

Little did I know that coming to her rescue would launch a war and land the forbidden beauty right in my bed…

With my baby in her belly.

NANCY

Sleeping with Rex was a mistake.

Getting pregnant with his baby was a disaster.

The last thing I ever wanted was to get caught up in this mess.

My life is complicated enough without my loyalties torn asunder.

Now, I find myself having to choose between my father and the man who sets my body aflame.

And amidst all this, my hometown is a warzone.

Cops and bikers are at each other's throats.

I just hope I can weather the firestorm before this whole town burns…

Taking me, my baby, and the biker who broke me down with it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MBK Hanson Inc.
• Release date: Nov 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393090991

Naomi West

Motorcycle club romance that will blow you away... Naomi West is a best-selling author of motorcycle romance novels that will get your heart pumping and your panties melting. Sign up for her mailing list to receive new release alerts, free giveaways, and much more! Follow this link to join:  http://bit.ly/NaomiWestMailingList

Book preview

Stolen Ride: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Sons of Wolves MC Book 1)

By Naomi West

Naomi%20West_Stolen%20Ride.jpg

I stole a ride on the biker – and it got me pregnant.

ONE NIGHT OF CARELESSNESS might haunt me forever.

And the outlaw’s baby inside me won’t let me forget the line I crossed.

But as war erupts around me, there’s only one place I can turn to stay safe:

Right back into the biker’s arms.

REX

The last thing I ever wanted was to be a father, ever since my old man skipped out on me before I was even born.

But f**k him.

Family's overrated, anyways.

I joined up with the Sons of Wolves Motorcycle Club and found the only brothers I'll ever need.

But try telling that to this girl down at Sal's Garage.

Her father's a lousy stinking drunk; what's more, he's the retired sheriff.

Little did I know that coming to her rescue would launch a war and land the forbidden beauty right in my bed...

With my baby in her belly.

NANCY

Sleeping with Rex was a mistake.

Getting pregnant with his baby was a disaster.

The last thing I ever wanted was to get caught up in this mess.

My life is complicated enough without my loyalties torn asunder.

Now, I find myself having to choose between my father and the man who sets my body aflame.

And amidst all this, my hometown is a warzone.

Cops and bikers are at each other's throats.

I just hope I can weather the firestorm before this whole town burns...

Taking me, my baby, and the biker who broke me down with it.

Chapter 1

Nancy

D o you really think I want to spend the rest of my life trying to make you a better person?

Dad shakes his head slowly, looking at me with his bloodshot eyes. He was drunk last night, way too wasted to drive, and yet he drove anyway. He drove straight into a tree, luckily going only a few miles per hour, and of course he blames me for it. I’m his daughter, and if my childhood taught me anything, it’s that fathers blame their daughters for things their daughters had no part in. We stand in the garage, me with my back to the wall wishing it would swallow me, Dad leaning against the vending machine and pointing a righteous finger at me.

For the millionth time, I ask myself, why do I put up with this?

Do you think that’s my big wish in life, Nancy? Dad grins at me sideways. It’s a mad grin. Once or twice he’s grinned like that before smashing a bottle or a glass, and perhaps once or twice is an understatement.

Behind him, the window shows a glimpse of the garage. The mechanic working on Dad’s car is shirtless, oil flecking his chest and face. He has a slightly punky look about him, his hair bleached blond and spiky, but this is offset with his massive muscles and the leather jacket slung over a stool. I look closely and see a patch on the jacket: Sons of Wolves.

Are you even listening to me? Dad barks.

You should be in jail, I think but don’t say. You were drunk driving and they should have locked you up for a little while, but of course the one-time sheriff gets special treatment. Of course the one-time sheriff can do anything he likes and get away with it.

I’m hearing you, I mutter.

So why haven’t you done as I’ve asked? He throws his hands up in a familiar gesture: one that proclaims to the world that there’s nothing to be done with me. I’m a lost cause. Et cetera. It’s a simple request. I’ve tried talking to the man but he just won’t listen. Aren’t you a lawyer? The last time I checked, you were a lawyer! My daughter the lawyer won’t help her own father!

Dad is a big, burly man with a tangled gray beard and a bald egghead with a purple vein running through the middle. His chest is a barrel, his belly is a beach ball, and his arms are steel pipes. He looks imposing and ridiculous at the same time, a unique combination I’ve never seen anybody else pull off.

The worst daughter in Salem, Dad says. I mean that. That’s how you’re behaving.

You keep insulting me and insulting me, I say, struggling to keep my voice level, my head level. How is that productive?

Don’t use your fancy lawyer speak with me! he snaps.

Fancy lawyer . . . I trail off. I won’t get drawn into the argument.

Through the window behind Dad, I see the mechanic glance up. We meet eyes briefly. His eyes are light green and penetrating. He chews his lip, glances at Dad and then me, and then turns back to the car.

Hello? Dad says. Are you there?

He won’t change the price, I mutter. He’s made that very clear. The price is the price.

I remember when you were nine years old and Miss Havisham was giving you a hard time at school. Do you remember that? When I don’t reply right away, he prompts, Well, do you?

I nod. I know what he’s doing and yet I can feel its effect working through my mind. That’s the cruel paradox of Dad’s manipulative tactics: I understand them and yet they still function.

"Your mother—that coward hiding