Now then now then, it’s got all steamy at A Knight’s Reads on this Saturday morning as I welcome the #booksontour for Heather Van Fleet’s Her Hot Ride!
I’ve got an extract from Chapter One for you today but before you read the rest of my post, I highly recommend you head back to two of the fabulous blogs who have shared the previous parts to the chapter
Between The Pages Book Club – extract 1
Baker’s Not So Secret Blog – extract 2
Massive thanks to the fabulous Sarah Hardy for inviting me to join the #booksontour fun!
Her. Me. Handcuffs. You think you know what we’re up to, don’t you?
I’ve been in trouble plenty but I got these bad boys from home.
Emily looks so good handcuffed to me.
This is the only way I could think to stop her.
She found out her mom was in danger and she ran away.
She wants to save her, but we’re at war.
Her brother, my best friend, told me I have to keep her safe.
He trusts me.
Unlike every woman I’ve ever met.
Maybe it’s because I don’t kiss. On the mouth anyway.
But Emily’s the only woman who’s ever stood up to me.
Her thighs keep grazing mine. Her long brown hair tickling my bicep.
Locking her to me and throwing away the key.
I didn’t think this through…
This really revs my engine.
A steamy and unputdownable biker romance, Her Hot Ride will leave you swooning. Guaranteed HEA. No cliffhangers. It can be read as a standalone or as the third book in the Red Dragon biker romance series.
I strode up the steps of the house and took a seat beside her on the swing without asking. If this was going to happen, then we needed to have a little chat first. Set some boundaries, so to speak.
“You sick or something? Lack of sex eating at ya? I may not like you, but I’m good for a roll in the sheets,” I said, even though Hawk had made it clear she wasn’t to be touched.
Emily pinched the bridge of her nose and rested her head back against the swing, all while Biker snuggled up next to her tits. “No. I am tired, I am stressed, and I have a headache. What I want is alone time. Which is apparently too much to ask for around here.”
I studied her cheeks, how red they were. There were marks on her neck too. Scratches it looked like. I frowned. Had someone hurt her?
“No offense, but you look like shit.”
She opened one of her eyes, upper lip curling. This was the Emily I could deal with. The backbone-wearing hard-ass.
“For the love of God, leave, Archer. Now.”
I didn’t leave. Instead, I smiled wider, having way too much fun pissing her off. “You’re strung too tight, JP. Come to Flick’s welcome home party with me tonight. I’ll show you a good time.”
“Yeah, no. Don’t think so.”
“I can get you drunk on my whiskey, then we can explore the cuffs I got attached to my headboard in my room. It’ll be fun.”
With an eyeroll, she lifted her middle finger and flipped me off.
“I’m not in any real danger,” she said a minute later, surprising me. “If Pops wanted me gone, don’t you think he would have come for me a long time ago?”
It was weird talking to a woman about club business. Still, this involved her more than it even did me in some respects, which was why I didn’t mind much.
“Wish I had a manual for the inside of that fucker’s head, just so I could give you a real answer. Either way, is it worth it? Risking your life like this?”
She stood and brushed her hands over the back of her khaki pants. “I’d probably be good bait, don’t you think?”
“Maybe.” The thought had crossed my mind before. If Emily left, Pops might come for her, and we’d have the opportunity to take him down, to end this war before anyone else got hurt.
Hawk had shut down that idea right away when I’d brought it up. But the thing was, I was tired of lying low and ready to end this once and for all. Probably more than anyone else in this club. Why? Because all this uncertainty left me unsettled. And as a man who couldn’t ever sit still, I needed some goddamn peace for just once in my life.
Nobody listened to me though, despite my status as club VP. Which was why I was days, maybe even hours, from taking matters into my own hands, even if it meant sacrificing my life to make it happen. I would end this one way or another. I was just trying to figure out the hows and whens.
I knew my reasoning, but what about her? Why in the hell was Emily okay with being the RDs’ bait when she didn’t even like any of us?
“What’re you hiding?” I asked, watching as she walked toward her front door.
From over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed back at me. “Nothing.” A clenched jaw, twitching lips.
I stood and moved in closer. “Liar.”
She turned around completely and folded her arms. “No. I’m not lying. I don’t lie.”
“You sure about that?” I backed her up against the door, capturing her there with my chest. I set my hands on either side of her face and saw her flinch. The sight of it had me frowning and dropping my hands right away, but I didn’t move my feet.
“Tell me what it is. Or I go to Hawk.”
“I’m not hiding anything.” She blinked, face emptying of emotions.
Another twitch of her eyes.
Slowly, I stepped away and allowed her to turn around. Whether she realized it or not, she’d shown me too much. Now there was no way in hell I’d be letting her out of my sight. Hawk had been right to be worried.
“Someone will be by tonight to get you at eight,” I called to her back.
Her shoulders stiffened and the hand on the doorknob froze. “No. I said I’m not going.”
“Aww, JP. See, that’s where you’re wrong. I asked you to come and you’ll come.”
She lowered her forehead to the door. “Stop. Calling me. JP.”
“You don’t like that name?” I gasped, a hand to my chest.
“No.” She swiveled to face me again. “Because I have a feeling it’s insulting.”
“What if I told you it’s kinda badass?”
“Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes. “Because you’re always real nice to me. I’m supposed to believe the guy who once called me the ‘hot version of a table’.”
“Because you were.” Then I looked her up and down, smirking. “Definitely not anymore though.”
She flipped me off. “Go to hell.”
Emily was sixteen or so when I’d first met her. A scrawny little thing with short legs and not a single curve. Brown bobbed hair, braces, full cheeks, and one hell of a sassy mouth that had eaten away at my nerves even when I was twenty. She and Hawk had never got along and were fighting long before they found out they shared both a ma and a dad. The second she’d opened her mouth, I could see why that was.
“I was kidding, JP. Seriously. You should learn to lighten up a little.” I shrugged a shoulder.
She shook her head, dark eyes filled with exasperation. “Call me Emily.” She poked me in the chest with her finger. “Or call me nothing.”
“Nothing? That’s boring. How can I jerk off to that name, huh? Oh, God, Nothing, I’m gonna c—”
She shoved me then, her face so red I thought she’d turned into a tomato. I almost called her that, but decided that maybe I needed to cut the dick routine. The problem was, though, I liked labeling people with nicknames and struggled most days not to do it. It was impulsive and blunt and, well, it was me. Who I was. If anything, I was like my old man in that sense. He’d been the same way when it came to nicknames, but for a different reason. I was creative, while he’d usually just been too drunk to remember real names.
Emily’s latest nickname, JP, was my favorite, equating to the words Junk Puncher—like I said, total fucking badass. Last summer was the first time I’d seen her in four years, since I’d called her a hot table, and she’d remembered who I was just as much as I’d remembered myself. The guy who’d once teased her about looking twelve, not sixteen, and, well, “flat like a table” was apparently not forgiven. I’d been told to watch her, which she hadn’t liked, and it hadn’t taken much of my usual provocation before she’d kicked me in the nuts.
Hence the name.
“Sorry.” I took a step back, pretending to give her space. “It’s special to me.”
“Special,” she deadpanned, eyes narrowing.
“Oh, yeah. Very special.” I winked, sliding out from around her. She followed me with her eyes from over her shoulder again, but kept her body pointed toward the door, her hand grabbing the knob once more. “In fact, it’s so special it’ll likely break my cold, dead heart if I can’t keep using it. You understand, don’t you?”
She turned her head away, her lips flattening. I couldn’t help but zero in on the things from the side, mostly because they were abnormally red, kinda like her cheeks. The bottom one was bigger than the top and suddenly an image of them wrapped around my cock had me swaying even closer, breathing in the scent of her perfume. Oranges mixed with vanilla was a damn nice combo. One I’d never smelled on a woman before.
“Whatever, oh incorrigible one.” She turned the doorknob and stepped into her house. Then she turned to face me, smirking as she said, “But I’m still not going to that stupid party.”
Who is Heather Van Fleet?
Heather Van Fleet is a stay-at-home-mom turned book boyfriend connoisseur. She’s married to her high school sweetheart, a mom to three girls, and in her spare time you can find her with her head buried in her Kindle, guzzling down copious amounts of coffee.
Heather graduated from Black Hawk College in 2003 and currently writes Adult contemporary romance. She is published through Sourcebooks Casablanca with her Reckless Hearts series and Bookouture with her Red Dragon series.