Bikers Romance Books Novels & Stories

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

Leave reviews, share with your friends, etcetera. While waiting for updates, you can check out my other books as well. 1. BABY'S DADDY (Pregnancy-Romance) 2. THE RANCHER'S HEART (Romance) 3. ALACRIMIA (General Fiction/Adventure) 4. THE THIRD SIDE OF THE COIN (Horror) Thanks.

"But I am willing to deal with it. If you are willing to let me." "I am." He kissed me. Soft. Sweet. Full of promise. Not the passionate, desperate kisses I shared with Colt. But something different. Something gentler. Something that might actually last. When we pulled apart, he grinned. "So what now?" "Now we ride." I climbed on my bike. "Anywhere. Everywhere. I do not care. I just want to feel alive." "I can do that." We rode out of the cemetery. Side by side. Two people with painful pasts choosing to build a future together.

The bike sped off, and the thrill was what I enjoyed most. One of the best feelings of racing with the most famous Biker in the whole city. Vladimir drove, neither of us saying a word, but his smell intoxicated my every sense, and I had to struggle not to sniff his neck. Even his clothes reeked of his scent and my senses couldn't ignore it. The bond pulled me closer to him and I gritted my teeth with anger. It's not something I have a hundred per cent control over, but I am glad he didn't mark me as other werewolves would do as soon as they discover their mate.

“Not until I see your partner.” “He’s here already.” He merely said, while going over to the Streetfighter. That meant the Superleggera was his partner’s. I felt his presence before I even saw him, and my heartbeat quickened. No, it couldn’t be. ‘Of course it could be, you idiot.’ I chided myself inwardly. I recalled he was a biker too. I slowly turned around to face him fully. “Hello, Marguerite. We meet again.” Shit.

But make no mistake: you do not mess with me, my brothers, or their old ladies. ​I climbed down from my bike. The house wasn't completely dead, but it was quiet for a Sunday morning. Most of my club brothers were back home with their women, though a few were definitely upstairs in the clubhouse rooms, hooking up with the club girls. Even the guys with old ladies still mess around at the clubhouse sometimes. I guess their women know exactly what they signed up for when they chose the biker life. But me? I could never imagine cheating on Ella. Once we are together, that's it. She's my only one.

Prologue Athena I can’t breathe. The weight of him presses me into the mattress, solid and scorching, and my lungs forget how to work the moment Tristan Blackwood moves inside me. Slow. Deliberate. Like he’s marking territory he’s always known belonged to him. My biker Alpha. My mistake. My ruin.

For half a heartbeat, my grip tightened too much, breath catching in my throat. Not today. I forced the thought away and leaned in harder, trusting instinct over fear. The bike responded beautifully, hugging the curve like it was part of me. Fourth lap, chaos. It happened too fast for fear to form properly. A rider ahead lost control. One moment he was accelerating, the next his bike skidded sideways, sparks screaming as metal scraped asphalt. Time fractured. I saw the opening closing too quickly, the angle wrong, the inevitable collision rushing toward me. I swerved.

"I am choosing to end it." He stared at me for a long moment. Then pulled me into his arms. "You are going to give me a heart attack one of these days." "Probably. But at least it will be interesting." We left Chicago at dawn. All twenty bikers accounted for. Some wounded, none dead. Diane's operations destroyed. Message sent. On the drive back to Nevada, I dozed against Albert's shoulder, exhausted. "Eva," he said quietly. "You know she is not going to honor that deal, right? She will come back."

Like it was built to keep people out. As we walk, I notice the others. Men scattered along the grounds, some near motorcycles parked in neat rows. The sound of an engine roars in the distance, and I turn to see a group of riders speed past the gates. Black leather jackets, helmets, the glint of chrome. My chest tightens. A biker gang. I don’t need anyone to explain it to me. The signs are all here. The mansion. The heavy security. The bikes. This client is definitely not a regular person.