Devney Perry kicks off this week an exciting new series with a gripping page-turner that has all her trademark elements—a small town setting, well drawn characters, an intriguing storyline—but with a much stronger thread of mystery and suspense running through it. The heroine is the new owner of a small town newspaper and she is set on uncovering the real reason why a notorious local motorcycle club disbanded and went their separate ways after decades of criminal activities that went unpunished. So when the former Club president suddenly becomes the key suspect for a new violent crime in town, the heroine sees this as the perfect opportunity to dig deeper into the Club’s nefarious past, but the president’s son has other ideas… The writing is wonderful, the pace exhilarating, and the plot is completely unpredictable. Enjoy a little sneak peek, as well as a chance to win a signed print copy!
He jumped, spinning around. “Hey, yourself. You startled me.”
“Sorry.” I smiled, but it fell when my eyes landed on a pair of legs hanging out from beneath the printer. “Is that BK?”
To my knowledge, BK didn’t wear black motorcycle boots. BK’s thighs weren’t firm and the jeans he wore didn’t mold around them perfectly. BK didn’t have narrow hips or a flat stomach.
My heart dropped. I knew that black belt. I’d had vivid fantasies of unbuckling it all weekend.
Before I could turn tail and sprint for the door, Dash slid out from beneath the machine. He had a wrench in one hand and a screwdriver in the other. His fingers were smudged with grease.
“Got it,” he told Dad, barely sparing me a glance.
“Really?” Dad asked.
“Really.” Dash stood, still refusing to look at me. “I think you should be good now. There’s a gear that probably needs to be replaced soon. I’ll see if I can get a part and come swap it. But I managed to get the one in there working for now so it won’t skip rotations.”
“That’s great.” Dad clapped Dash on the shoulder. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. I was going to have to get a repairman from the press company, and bringing one out here can get expensive.”
“No problem.” Dash took a rag from on top of one of the towers, cleaning his hands. His eyes stayed fixed on Dad like I didn’t exist.
I hated how my heart sank. Refusing to let him win, I put on my best aloof face and turned up my nose a bit. He wasn’t going to ignore me. I was going to ignore him.
Hello, high school.
“How much do I owe you?” Dad asked.
“No, I can’t let you do all this for free.”
Dash chuckled, that devilish smile going straight to my center. Damn him. “Tell you what, buy me a beer the next time we run into each other around town.”
“All right.” Dad extended his hand again. “I’ll do that.”
Dash tossed his rag aside and shook Dad’s hand. Then, finally, he looked my way. “Bryce.”
“King.” I held his hazel gaze. “How are you today?”
“I had a good weekend.” He smirked. “Always makes for a good Monday.”
If his definition of a good weekend was invading my private life on Friday—kissing me—only to ride off and find another woman to make his weekend good, I was going to destroy him.
“Lucky you,” I said. “I wish I could say the same. I had an unwelcome guest on Friday who put a damper on my whole weekend.”
“What? Why didn’t you tell me about this yesterday?” Dad asked. “What guest?”
“We were busy yesterday with the paper. But it seems that I have a pest problem on my porch. Can I borrow your shotgun?”
Dash chuckled quietly, his broad chest shaking as he smiled at the wall.
“A shotgun?” Dad’s forehead furrowed. “What kind of pest? Gophers?”
“Nope.” I shook my head. “A snake.”
“You hate snakes.”
“With a passion. Hence, the shotgun.”