How Does Hard To Handle: The Life And Death Of The Black Crowes Memoir End?

Bikers and good girls don't mix. Cage was a bad boy biker. Tattoos and muscles he's every girl's dream, including Addie's. Addie was a good girl. Raised to be quiet, don't talk back, never hang with the wrong people. Date only those her parents approved. She was completely bored and just existing. That wasn't the case when she'd see him. The boy in the biker club. She'd see him around town and fantasize about how her life would be different if she was with someone like him. However he didn't even acknowledge her existence, or so she thought. Cage noticed the gorgeous innocent good girl. Her kind could never survive in his world. He was living proof of that. It took a bet from his brothers in the club to get him to meet her. When he did, he knew he was in trouble of falling hard for the good girl. Could she exist in both the world she's known her whole life and his life? Or would she have to choose? Neither knew what this encounter would bring about. Secrets buried for years, second chance love, and all the club drama you can handle. Some betrayals were meant to protect her. How will she handle learning who her real father is? Will she be able to forgive them? Will she find the true her? And if she does, will she give them another chance or walk away? Her whole world falls apart, only to get put back together totally different than she ever imagined. Her real father never got over her mother. Will they get back together or will his current woman destroy any chance they have? Look for upsets, betrayal, rejections, and more. Come hell or high water Addie will get her Happily Ever After!

After going bankrupt, I do the unthinkable for my gravely ill younger brother, Ricky Ashford, and climb into the bed of Damien Blackwood, the notorious mafia boss. When his smoldering gaze sweeps over my shirtless body, I stay perfectly still. The reason is that I'm afraid to set off this infamous man in front of me. However, the next instant, his lips are everywhere on my skin, and the night dissolves into a wild, reckless blur. For three years, I endure every torment in his bed. Thoughts of escape and even suicide cross my mind, but the fact that my brother is fighting for his life in the ICU keeps me going. One day, I accidentally overhear him speaking with his childhood friend, Chloe Sterling. "How long do you plan to toy with your enemy's daughter? You're not falling for her, are you?" "Don't be absurd." "And what about her sickly brother?" "He died long ago." The last thread holding me together snaps. Now, there is no reason left to live. As I prepare to end my life by burning charcoal, tears well up in his eyes as he pleads for me not to leave.

By my third month on the job, I discovered that my coworkers had been calling me "the old crow" behind my back. The nickname came from none other than Jace's condescending secretary—because at 32, I was still clutching onto an eight-year relationship that hadn't ended in marriage. I confronted Jace. "Do you know your employees have been calling me the old crow?" He didn't even bother to look up. "That's just Sadie—she speaks her mind and means no harm. You're 32; why get so worked up over what a young girl says?" Then he gave me a faint, mocking smile. "Though honestly, it's a pretty fitting nickname." It felt like a cold hand had wrapped around my heart. So that was it—eight years of my youth, nothing more than a joke to him. I turned and walked away, handed in my resignation, and blocked every way he could reach me. But for the first time, the man who had always seemed so calm and untouchable finally panicked. "Elara," he pleaded, "please come back."

Vice and Victor have a plan. Five years in the spotlight to make their fortune, then move into the background, with their own record label. Fast and smart is their motto. Romance will have to wait, especially since their idea of an ideal romance, involves both of them and one woman. When their manager, Aaron, asks them to collaborate with a chart-topping popstar who wants to gravitate into rock, they are dubious. A frequent flyer in the gossip columns over the last twelve months with a history of drug and alcohol problems, they fear she will be difficult and volatile to work with. After being roofied by her music producer, Mirage has learnt the hard way that it is not an equal world. Without proof, she cannot pursue legal recourse, and she is locked into completing another album with her rapist. Meanwhile, Mr Rich has been feeding the industry lies about her having dependency on alcohol and drugs, and the gossip mags have seized upon the stories, slowly tearing her professional reputation into pieces. But Mirage is not a fragile damsel in distress, she is a pop-rock chick, and she is fighting back.

At our high school reunion, my ex announced he was getting married. In the middle of the congratulations, someone piped up. “Hey, where’s Wren tonight? She didn’t show?” The whole room cracked up. “Wren? Probably still earning her keep in some rich guy’s bed.” “She dumped James for money, and now look at him. He’s the wealthiest guy in New York. Bet she’s kicking herself.” Someone snickered. “I heard the guy’s some fat old man. God, how does she even stomach it.” I broke up with James Thorne the year he loved me the most, and walked straight into the arms of another man, a man with money. Now he had a new girlfriend, he’d taken over Thorne Capital, and he was one of New York’s most talked-about young executives. He’d organized this reunion because he couldn’t wait to show off how good his life had turned out. “Enough. Drop it.” In the middle of the laughter, James spoke up. “I have a better life now. Whether Wren is dead or alive has nothing to do with me anymore.” “What if she really were dead?” The room went silent.

Tony Gambino never forgave me. His childhood sweetheart died saving my life, and for seven years, his hatred was a constant, silent burn. I fasted. I prayed. I begged for absolution. He met my penance with a cold sneer. "I'll only forgive you when you're dead." The words were a knife to the heart. So why, when we were both poisoned, did he shove the only antidote down my throat? As the poison claimed him, blood trickling from his lips, he choked out his last words, "Scarlett... in our next life, let's never meet." Later, I tried to visit his grave. His sworn brother and Consigliere, Richard Bruno, blocked my path. He pressed a gun to my forehead. "I don't know how you have the nerve to show your face here, Scarlett. He'd be alive if he hadn't saved you. "I should never have let him give up Elma for you. You're a curse. Everyone who gets close to you gets destroyed." Their eyes were unanimous in their blame. And they were right. So I watched his gravesite from a distance, my own guilt a heavier stone than any marker. Not long after, I was killed in a gang crossfire. When I opened my eyes, I was seven years in the past. This time, I made a different choice: I let Tony go—so that everyone might live.