Biker Books Novels & Stories

But deep down, I already knew the answer. Nothing. Not a single message. I stared at the empty chat for a while, feeling the silence settle heavier in my chest. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I was a fool for trusting a piece of shit like him. I knew what bikers were. Everyone said it, playboys, liars, men who lived by no rules but their own. I should’ve known better. I should’ve stayed away. But I didn’t. I gave him everything, my trust, my heart, my body, and now I was the one left bleeding.

Read the author's note first 1)The Biker's Obsession (Gangster, Ceo and maid romance) 2) A crush I can't date ( Have you all wondered this! Imagine two writers on GoodNovel fall in love! Imagine a writer and a reader like you fall in love ? Then you need to add this book to your library to find out more.

, the inquisitive little queen that she is. “There is a code we bikers live by. My father violated that code and by that same code my actions were considered justified”, I told her, since she'd learn about it sooner or later anyway. “That, and I had already been running the crew for a few years at that point”! “For a bunch of bikers, you’re hardly ever on them”, she says. Being a biker is so much more than riding them, but even we know how weather limitations work. “It’s cold and wet, we’re not reckless”, I tell her.

The bikers each took a step back as they sensed the threat drawing near. Scarface gulped audibly but still tried to appear brave. “You think you can intimidate me?” he asked with a shaky voice. I bared my teeth. “I don’t think. I know.” The air around us grew hard, and then before I could utter another word, one of the bikers launched himself at me. But I was faster, catching his upraised arm and flipping him onto his stomach with a twist before slamming his front half against the truck. The others were charging forward when Lysander was suddenly there, moving with the deadly speed of a well-schooled warrior.

Now that was the Ty I knew and loved. "We still haven't seen him yet but if you tracked him here and that book ties in then there are only so many places around here he could be hiding out. We'll get to the bottom of it. Just one more player, he should be here..." Just then Chaz opened up the gate and a whole fucking crew of bikers came riding in. The leader dismounted off his custom made top of the line ride with his wife's name emblazoned on the side and headed for us. One smooth motherfucker this one, and the shades just tipped that shit over the edge.

Before they could realize what is happening, almost all of the bikers are dead. Just then, the lights came back on. Now the mansion is snatched away from the bikers who invaded it. "Ey, did you kill that asshole?" one of the bikers yelled from downstairs, unknown of the situation on the top floor. Nero and Reed casually leaned over the railing and gave the biker a sinister smile. "That asshole is our friend. Only we get to kill him. Idiots like you shouldn't even think about hurting him" Nero muttered before shooting that biker mercilessly.

"Seriously? Can't we just wait for him out here, in the parking lot?" Krystal turned to me, her hand reaching for the visor. As she adjusted her blond hair and fluffed it out, she effortlessly pulled down her push-up bra, accentuating her cleavage in the sparkly black tank top that barely contained her assets. "What's the matter?" she asked, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Nervous about stepping into a biker bar?" "It's more than that, and you know it." The place had a notorious reputation, plagued by gangs, fights, drug dealings, and prostitution.

I felt disposable, easily replaced and forgotten, and my children were treated the same. But the night after Grace reappeared suddenly when I needed her the most, I started to dream about X, a mysterious biker whose face I never saw but who somehow made me feel safe and precious. My children never appeared in my dreams; it was always just X and me. My favorite dreams were the ones where I held on tightly to him as he rode through our small town so fast that it felt like we were flying, and nothing else mattered. I knew he wasn't real, just an image my mind had created based on the romance novels I read. Someone like him couldn't exist in our small town. Our paths would have crossed at one po

In fact, she had the same banner plastered to the wall of her apartment too. There were motorcycle helmets stacked perfectly behind the door, and a punching bag stood in one corner, looking worn out from use along with some dumbbells laying under it. On the shelves, tucked behind trophies and medals from games he had won, were books. Real books. They also looked worn out from reading, and she recognised some classics. They were books she loved, but never imagined a boy like him would ever touch. There was an open sketchbook on another drawer, with a half-finished sketch of a bike. She gasped, fascinated at how good he was. She reached down and slipped open the previous page of the book, and

“You okay?” “Motorcycle club?” I asked. He nodded. “Like Hell’s Angels?” Booker smirked. “In theory.” “Crap.” I glanced up at him. “I really should go.” “Go where, darlin’? There’s nothing around here for over a mile in any direction.” “Clarify something for me. Are you a club because you have really nice bikes and like to hang out and drink beer on occasion, or are you like outlaws or something?”