Biker Romance Novels Novels & Stories

He retrieved the novel and red the title out loud. “Forcefully Wedded, ruthlessly loved by the Billionaire Mafia.” “What type of book is this, is it about naked people?” He teased, he was referring to the barely dressed couples on the cover page who looked like they were actually having sex. “It’s a dark romance.” I said shyly. “How dark is it?” He asked. “Oh! The Male lead is unhinged and a total red flag. He reminds me of you.” “So I am unhinged and a total red flag?” He asked, leaning towards me.

“You really are determined to destroy everything your father built.” Anger flared through my chest. “You grabbed me.” He tilted his head. “You slapped me verbally in front of half the city.” “That is not the same.” “No,” he agreed calmly. “It isn’t.” He turned to face me. “But what your little biker friend did inside? That is.” A cold knot formed in my stomach. Adrian watched me carefully. “You should know something about men like him,” he said. “What?” “They don’t survive in my world.”

is all I can say, voice rough, low enough that only she can hear. Rhea tilts her head, all sultry confidence. “I didn’t know there was more to you than leather jackets and bikes,” she says, voice almost sweet—too sweet. My perfect little liar. She lets go of the chain. The sudden absence of her fingers feels like ice against my heated skin. She fixes it—trailing that same finger down my chest, following the lines of ink, watching them with the same obsessive hunger I feel every time I look at her. My breathing hitches. Just once, sharp.

Huh, were we going on bikes? They're row after row of gleaming metal, the engines rumbling low. The scent of fuel and leather mixed in the air, intoxicating and deadly. My pulse quickened. Of course. I had forgotten, this family, these Alphas… they weren’t just wolves. They were bikers. Dangerous, untouchable, feared. One by one, everyone climbed onto their bikes, their movements easy with practiced confidence. Everyone but me. I stood awkwardly at the edge, my arms crossed tightly as I tried to mask the rising panic in my chest.

Without a word, I trailed after Ronan as we walked towards his bike. The clubhouse was buzzing with activities by the time we pulled up. Motorcycles lined the gravel and if Ronan ever needed an army of some kind, then best believe he had more than enough people at his disposal. From the yard, we could already make out the loud music spilling through the open doors of the place. The moment we stepped inside though, the smell of smoke, whiskey, engine oil and something dangerous hit me square in the nose. As we walked in, some of the bikers nodded in my direction. A few of them offered half smiles, while the rest just stared.

The boys froze, their smirks faltering as the sound drew closer, louder, until headlights cut through the dark. I blinked against the brightness, my heart hammering. A group of bikers rolled into the street, leather and metal glinting under the moon. The roar of engines silenced only when boots hit the ground, a dozen shadows dismounting with lethal grace. The boys around me cursed, panicked, but it was too late. The bikers moved fast, too fast. Snarls filled the air, inhuman and feral, and before my terrified eyes, they tore into the boys with a violence that made me stumble back. Fists cracked against bone. Teeth bared. They weren’t just fighting—they were biting. Wolves in human skin unle

I need to be faster and careful because this didn't look like a joke. The rider pulled closer, his presence pressing in on me like he was forcing a hand around my throat. I knew that energy. I needed no one to tell me who owned that darkness. It would be no one but my crazy ex-husband Dante. He cut in hard, too close, his bike slamming into mine. Metal screamed as sparks exploded between us. My bike jerked violently, tires skidding as I fought to keep control. I cussed under my breath. He was smiling under that helmet. I could feel it. He was crazy already anyway, and dealing with me was one of what made him so happy.

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

There's always been speculation about my indifference to the women who threw themselves at me, especially here of late. No one knew that the badass biker king had given up his Cut so to speak, to a little half pint female no less. And the funniest part is that she has no idea. All that's about to change in the next few days though, and my dick can't wait to feel all that tightness. She'd better be fucking tight. Of course she is, she's my good girl, my babygirl. I laid my head back against the chair as I pictured her beneath me. There was no sense in trying to curb my thoughts; they always came back here.

"But you can't come because Crispin will kill me." "No, the bikers will kill you first." Crispin would bury her and then dig her back up and do it again. It is the stupidest idea I've ever heard from Katy, and from the sounds of it, she has a lot of stupid ideas. Still, I can't let her go wandering off into a clubhouse by herself. I haven't met the bikers myself, but I guarantee they won't find her peeking in windows and then invite her inside for a spaghetti dinner. In college I read Motorcycle Club romance books. I have a pretty good idea what goes down in biker clubs and it isn't a bunch of reformed criminals falling in love.