Booktok Biker Novels & Stories

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.

Kenzie demands. He turns around with anger on his face and crosses his arms. A few of his brothers snicker. He glances at them and they look away. "You know I'm really disappointed in you. I encouraged Macie to give you a shot. Told her not to believe all those stories that bikers are thugs, criminals, and heartless bastards. I told her there's good and bad in all people. And I hate to be proved wrong!" She began. "I told her just because you're a biker, it didn't mean you weren't a decent guy. But boy did you prove me wrong!" He tries to speak but she holds up her hand. "No, you don't talk, I'm talking!"

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.

I’d escape to my favorite place on the Island, a manmade nature trail someone had created back in the seventies as a safe place for bikers, surrounded by trees and foliage and well off the beaten path. But I’d never had the urge to form a chapter like my father or had any interest in that kind of life. In fact, I’d never even ridden with anyone on the back of my bike before; she’d be the first. I never wanted a woman with me, never had any interest in mixing my two favorite passions together, sex and riding. I never had any interest in sharing that side of me with anyone else in the past. Now I’m glad that I hadn’t, glad that she was going to be the first and only.

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

crashing into a table with a splintering thud. Chairs scraped. Boots shifted. Silas didn’t look surprised; he looked entertained. “Sensitive topic?” Silas asked mildly, tilting his head. like he was watching a street performance. I flexed my hand once. “Careful.” He smirked, eyes glinting. “Relax. I’m just curious how women and children fit into the biker life.” The word echoed louder than the music. So that’s how far it spread. “Watch your mouth,” I warned.

I chuckled. “Of course. The only biker who can race more than I do is the Masked VA.” As she spoke, she had a look of admiration on her face. “You know the Masked VA?” I asked her curiously. She gave me a weird look. “Every biker does. He is the king of biking, I dare say. I hope to meet him someday.” She smiled with a fawning voice. “Good for you.” I shrugged. “You don’t seem impressed.” She observed.

Screams and shouts from the Philanthropists and Socialites echoed through the night sky as the impish Bokken Riders landed on the roof of the Harrison Galleries. Tires screech, rubber burned as the magical bikers crashed the party. "Shit," Warren revved his engine and pushed his bike a little faster, "Please tell me you've called the calvary." Warren groaned. His ride went airborne and crashed into the roof of the Harrison Galleries himself.

Someone had turned them into this twisting raceway that went under the city. There were makeshift bleachers along the walls, packed with people I could barely see through all the cigarette smoke. Bikers in leather, rich people in fancy clothes, and everything in between. They were all here for the same thing, danger and speed. I watched Tristan get ready for his race. He moved like he'd done this a million times before. He checked his bike the same way he worked on customer bikes at the garage, his hands going over every part. When he walked over to me, putting on his black helmet that covered his whole face, my heart was beating so hard.

She considered herself extremely fortunate to have the opportunity to talk to him. Miss Admirer: Hey, Hottie Biker! My Hottie Biker: Hi, Miss Admirer. He replied to her with a smiley emoji. Miss Admirer: Today, I saw you going in the car with a girl. My Hottie Biker: You saw me! Seriously, you're my real stalker. She chuckled. Miss Admirer: Where is your bike today? My Hottie biker: You found me travelling by car today because I don't like it if anybody sits on my bike.