Novel & Cerita Motorcycle Romance Books

Why did you get so drunk? Romance him... How could I romance a man as rough and hard as you? Can I handle it? Can I really do it? I don't even know anything about that thing. How can I do it properly? “I guess, I will need to make some research about that.”

When she climbed onto the bike, there was no hesitation, her hands slid naturally around his waist, fingers curling against the fabric of his jacket. His exhale was sharp and her heartbeat was loud. Mohit observed the two with narrowed eyes and a smirk. He whispered to his assistant, “Chemistry like that can’t be faked.” The bike cruised down a quiet residential street meant to resemble the movie’s neighborhood setting. The wind pushed her hair into his shoulder. Her fingers tightened slightly when he leaned forward to steer around a turn and he pretended his heart didn’t just flip. They stopped in front of the prop house. She got down slowly, still smiling from the ride.

I muttered, patting the dashboard like it was a sickly pet. The car shuddered… and stopped. Silence. Then, as if the universe wanted to add a little extra seasoning to my disaster stew, I heard it — the deep, throaty roar of a motorcycle engine in the distance. Not the cheap puttering kind, either. This was the expensive, smug, I’m too rich for my own good kind of growl. A Harley-type beast, the kind that made you think of leather jackets and bad decisions. The bike slowed. Headlights washed over me, blinding for a second, before cutting out. The air smelled faintly of gasoline, leather… and something darkly male.

Rack gives in and the first part of the plan is in the bag. I rode a motorbike in Haiti. It in no way compares to the power of the Harley that rumbles with a loud purr as Rack navigates the winding highway. My hands lock tightly around his waist and my chest presses firmly against his back. Loose strands of my tied-back hair fly around my face as the warm wind hits us. Rack's hair has grown out even more, but it's still a long way from being in his eyes. I think it's sexier now, and tonight I'll enjoy holding onto it.

Hearing the system's promise, I was instantly tempted. "Ximena, let me fix your skull." I used the universal glue to carefully attach the missing piece back onto her head. After it dried, I had her shake her head a few times to test it. "It's really fixed." Ximena broke into a happy smile. I seized the moment to make my request. "Ximena, today is our wedding day. Let's just forget all the misunderstandings from before. How about you give me that nail as a token of our love?"

I could feel my nipples tightening from the cool air and the intensity rolling off him in waves. My mind screamed danger, but my body… God, my body was reacting like a traitor, heat rushing through me. “Let go of me,” I whispered, but it came out breathier than I wanted. His thumb brushed my lower lip, rough and calloused. For a split second his eyes darkened, dropping to my mouth before snapping back up. “You’ve got fire. Good. You’re gonna need it here.” One of the other bikers laughed from the corner. “She’s shaking like a leaf, Prez. Maybe she needs warming up.”

I pulled in slowly, my bike gliding to a soft stop near the old fountain, its once grand marble now chipped and moss-covered. A group of bikers stood nearby, clustered in small knots, their laughter punctuating the morning air. They looked so alive, so raw, like I used to feel before everything became about sacrifice, compromise, survival. One of them, a tall man with sun-darkened skin and a leather jacket covered in patches, turned at the sound of my engine. His eyes lit up immediately as he took in the sleek lines of my bike. “You must be Jacqueline,” he called out, stepping forward with a wide, almost reverent grin.

he commands, swinging his massive leg over the chassis in front of me. "Hold on to what?" I cry out, my hands trembling as the cold rain blinds me. "To me, Lisa. Unless you want your skull cracked open on the asphalt." He doesn't give me a choice. Damian slams his foot onto the gear shift and cracks the throttle open. The motorcycle lunges forward with a deafening, violent roar. The sudden, brutal acceleration throws my torso forward, and my arms react on pure instinct, locking tightly around his massive, iron-hard chest. My face slams flush against the wet wool of his back, my chest crushing against his shoulder blades as the bike tears out of the alleyway and into the blinding dark of the

She opened her mouth to scream when the sound of motorcycle engines roared down the street. Six bikes appeared from around the corner moving fast. They weren't Vipers. The engines sounded different. More expensive. The bikes pulled up in a half circle around Maya and the three men and suddenly the air felt different. Heavier. The riders killed their engines and the silence that followed was worse than the noise. They climbed off their bikes and Maya saw their vests. Iron Wolves MC. She didn't know if that was better or worse than the Vipers. One of them walked forward and the others followed. He was tall with dark hair and the kind of face that probably got him anything he wanted. His leathe