Monday, November 20, 2023

Teaser Tuesday: Iron by Harley Wylde #promo #teasertuesday #excerpt #comingsoon #motorcycleclubromance #romanticsuspense #rabtbooktours @RABTBookTours @HarleyW_Writer @changelingpress

 

A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

Hades Abyss MC, Book 11


Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: November 24, 2023

 

 

Nari – Pain. Humiliation. Those are the things my father taught me, and every man I’ve met since. Running away from home didn’t fix anything. Now I’m nineteen and back in the town my family calls home. I haven’t told them I’m here, and I don’t plan to. But I also didn’t count on a biker giving me a ride, and leaving me at the Hades Abyss compound. They say they’ll help me, but can I trust them? What if they’re just as bad as all the others?

Iron –I’m no stranger to the darker side of life. Sometimes I’m the monster lurking in the shadows. Still, there’s a line I won’t cross. I will never harm an innocent woman or child. The moment I saw the tiny Asian woman cowering in front of Titan, I wanted to protect her from the world. She’s been beaten, yet she’s not broken. I’ve never met anyone like Nari before. Despite how timid she appears, she’s stronger than she realizes. I know I’ll do whatever it takes to make her smile and keep her safe, even if it means getting blood on my hands. The moment her family tries to take her from me, I’ll show them what it means for Nari to be mine.

 

WARNING: Iron is intended for readers 18+ due to bad language, violence, and adult situations. There’s no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a guaranteed happily ever after.




EXCERPT

Copyright ©2023 Harley Wylde

 

Nari

My cheek pressed into the carpet as Gio held me down. I knew I’d be covered in bruises within the hour, if I wasn’t already. Nothing new. It seemed all I had to do was breathe in order to piss him off. I’d only stayed due to a lack of options. Leaving Gio would only mean taking a chance on someone else. Men didn’t help runaway teens for nothing. They either made us drug mules, thieves, or prostitutes. I couldn’t think of a way to escape. Everyone I’d ever trusted had betrayed me. Why should that change?

If things had been different, if my family had cared even a little, I never would have run away. Living at home had been awful, but my life on the streets was far worse.

“You stupid, worthless cunt! Where’s my money?” he asked for the fifth time. As if my answer was suddenly going to change.

“I told you I don’t have it. I couldn’t find any work today, Gio.” Or more accurately, I hadn’t found a mark. Stealing was my forte.

He leaned in closer. “Then you have a choice, Nari. You can pay the money by spending a few nights at the house on Spruce, or you find a high paying job before morning. Which is it going to be?”

I swallowed hard. It wasn’t really a choice at all. I refused to go near drugs, and I really didn’t want to be a whore. I couldn’t understand the girls and women who chose that path. I didn’t look down on them for it, but it wasn’t something I’d ever voluntarily do. Of course, if I wanted a legal job, there was always the strip club. Except I hadn’t really been blessed in the curves department. I didn’t even need a bra. Who the hell would pay to watch me take my clothes off? Now, letting him use me as a whore in his brothel? That was a different story. Those men didn’t much care what a woman looked like, and I knew he wouldn’t be sending his top customers my way. All they wanted was a living woman to fuck, although it wouldn’t surprise me if some didn’t even care if I was alive when they fucked me. I’d learned the hard way just how screwed up people could be.

“I’ll find a job,” I said. “Please, Gio. I really tried.”

He finally released me and stood. “Fine. By sunrise, you better have something lined up. If not, don’t bother coming home. You either take your ass over to Spruce, or you better run.”

As if running would do me any good. He’d track me down and things would be even worse. But I had to try. I refused to go down without a fight, or at the very least a last-ditch effort. If only I’d known I was heading this direction the moment I walked out of my dad’s house. Not once had I seen my picture on the news or in any papers. He’d never bothered to search for me. Why would he when he had his precious Joon?

Maybe I could go home. Or at least back to my hometown. I didn’t think Gio would ever think to look for me there. He knew how much I hated that place, and the hell I’d been through while I lived at home. Yeah. I should go back. I didn’t bring in enough money for him to chase me across state lines.

I waited until Gio left, then packed a small backpack. It wasn’t like I owned much anyway. Grabbing the little bit of cash I’d managed to hide, I shoved it into my satchel and left the house for the last time. One way or another, I was leaving this place behind. I didn’t care if I had to hitchhike all the way back to Mississippi.

Every step made pain explode through my body. I stopped to put on my hoodie and made sure my face was mostly covered. I didn’t need anyone seeing the marks on my body and stopping to ask questions. A rumble of a motorcycle came up behind me and slowed. I quickly glanced toward the street and realized the man was eyeing me.

I assessed his overall size and wondered if I could outrun him. Men prowling the streets for women always spelled trouble.

“Do you need a ride somewhere?” he asked.

I took in every detail of his appearance, from his Native American genes to the leather cut declaring him part of the Reckless Kings MC. I hadn’t heard of them, but there was a group of bikers in my hometown. They’d been a little scary, but I’d never heard of them hurting kids or anything. Was his club the same? Just because he looked rough and little scary didn’t mean he was a bad guy. Sometimes, the ones who looked like wholesome decent men were the most vicious.

He sighed and inched the bike closer. “Look. My name is Crow. I’m not going to hurt you, but it looks like you’re in some trouble and trying to get out of here. So you can get on the back of my bike and I’ll take you as far as I can. Or you can keep walking and hope whoever you’re running from doesn’t catch up. With the way you’re moving, I’m going to assume someone beat the hell out of you.”

I winced. He noticed that? “I’m going to Mississippi.”

“What part?” he asked.

“Ever heard of a club called the Hades Abyss? I’m going to that town,” I said.

He nodded. “I know them. Get on and I’ll make sure you get home. It’s a little out of my way, but it’s fine.”

Without another thought, I climbed on behind him and put my arms around his waist. It wasn’t my first time on a motorcycle, even if it had been years ago. It also wasn’t the first time I’d put my trust in a stranger. He’d either keep me safe, or I’d trade one abusive asshole for another.

“I’m Nari,” I said. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Sure thing, kid. Hold on tight.” He twisted the throttle , revving the engine, then eased the bike forward. As he picked up speed and shifted gears, the wind whipped the hood off my head. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead to his back. For the first time in forever, I felt free.

I didn’t know if I’d made the right choice, but there was no going back now.


About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.


Author’s Instagram, TikTok, and Facebook: @harleywylde

Author on Twitter: @HarleyW_Writer


Publisher on Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram: @changelingpress


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