Meet Wyked...
Romance columnist, Bristol Collins wants to heal her broken relationship with her fiancé, Joe after the loss of their daughter Camden. When she discovers treachery in her inner circle, she seeks solace in her professional life. Longing for more, she discovers within herself a secret passion to join The Lady Guardians, a strong, independent female motorcycle club. On her quest, she meets Rogue and one passionate night leads to more, and her search for freedom unlocks secrets in her life and his.
Meet Rogue...
Firefighter, Maxwell “Rogue” Emerson loves his bike and his music, but lately he’s wanted one thing. One night with the beautiful but broken-hearted vixen named Wyked, has him wanting more than he’s allowed himself to dream of in the last five years.
When Wyked and Rogue join forces his love frees her to explore the woman she wants to be and uncover the woman she is destined to become. Will their love be strong enough to give her the healing she desires, even after she learns the truth about Rogue?
When Wyked and Rogue join forces his love frees her to explore the woman she wants to be and uncover the woman she is destined to become. Will their love be strong enough to give her the healing she desires, even after she learns the truth about Rogue?
Excerpt...
Bristol inserted the key into the lock and let herself in. She strutted to the kitchen, the click of her stiletto heels silenced by the thick Berber carpet along the hallway, her hips sashaying with each step. She knew once Joe saw her in her black cut-out open back bandage dress, he would forget all about his phone conference, especially when he realized she was wearing nothing underneath.
She knew that her focus had not been on her man as it should have lately. It was hard managing the grief and depression that came with such a loss while trying to keep the spice in their relationship. After writing her article, she committed herself to the idea of reigniting the flames that had died down between them.
Bristol paused in the hallway, before turning around and heading back to the kitchen. Setting the food on the breakfast nook, she walked to his mini wine cellar and removed a bottle of Cabernet. She grabbed two glasses and made her way to his office, deciding she would come back for the food.
Finding it, empty, she chose to sneak further down the hall, wondering if he was just working in his bedroom like he oftentimes did. The light from the door at the end of the hallway confirmed her thoughts. Standing in the doorway, the wine glasses and bottle of wine fell from her hands onto the wood floor, crashing and sending shards of glass all around her, while wine splashed onto the walls, her outfit, and a nearby dresser.
Bristol screamed louder than she ever had before at the horror that lay before her.
Joe was lying on his back in the bed, head bent at an angle, his mouth a grotesque depiction of terror the rest of his nude body hidden underneath the woman who sat halfway astride him. They clearly had been in the midst of a sexual act when someone had decided to bring their illicit affair to an end.
Compelled to move forward by some unseen force, Bristol stepped into the room, the sound of her heels crunching the glass underneath her, unheard by her ears. The woman’s eyes were closed. Both bodies postured in a macabre depiction of pleasure. Her back was to the doorway suggesting she had been oblivious to the audience of their intruder, who was privy to their private and indecent moment.
A gamut of emotions rolled through Bristol at the recognition that the woman Joe was having an affair with was none other than his former girlfriend, Rachel Stringer. Who had committed this gruesome crime? Who else had known about their affair, because Bristol surely hadn’t? She felt herself growing sick, the morning’s breakfast roiling inside her belly, bubbling up to her throat, leaving an acidic trail behind as she turned and ran into the bathroom and threw up all over the floor.
Hands on her knees, chest heaving, eyes stinging, she tried to block out the scene she had just witnessed. But it was impossible. Shock and hurt ran a rampant and competitive race throughout her to see which would come through at the finishing line first.
How could he do this to her? Did he not realize how much she loved him? Did he not understand the devastation his acts could create? How long had this been going on between them, or was this some one-time thing?
On shaky legs, Bristol walked to the sink, gripping the cold ceramic in her hands as she tried to quell the fear and disgust churning in her stomach. She had no idea who had done this, or even if they would come back again. For all she knew, that person could still be in the house. With that thought in mind, she ran into the bedroom, locked the door and grabbed Joe’s house phone from the night table. Careful not to allow her eyes to look their way again, she rushed back into the bathroom and locked that door, as well.
Dropping on the edge of the Roman tub, she dialed nine-one-one, refusing to wait another moment to discover if she was alone.
“Nine-one-one dispatch, how may I assist you?”
“Uh…my…I need…”
“Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?”
“They’re dead…” she cried hysterically into the phone.
“Who’s dead, ma’am?” the operator asked.
“He…he’s dead, and she’s dead. My…I need the police here right away,” she stammered.
Bristol was uncertain of any other questions that were asked of her, she only knew eventually she got off the phone and released a loud wail from deep within her body.
She cried until the police and ambulance arrived. She was inconsolable as they made their way throughout the house, conducting their investigation. Shortly after their arrival, she began crying again when she heard one of the paramedics say, “We have a pulse!”
She cried in relief that despite the heartache she was facing, their lives were not lost. She cried for the loss of her relationship and child, and she cried for his betrayal of their love.
She knew that her focus had not been on her man as it should have lately. It was hard managing the grief and depression that came with such a loss while trying to keep the spice in their relationship. After writing her article, she committed herself to the idea of reigniting the flames that had died down between them.
Bristol paused in the hallway, before turning around and heading back to the kitchen. Setting the food on the breakfast nook, she walked to his mini wine cellar and removed a bottle of Cabernet. She grabbed two glasses and made her way to his office, deciding she would come back for the food.
Finding it, empty, she chose to sneak further down the hall, wondering if he was just working in his bedroom like he oftentimes did. The light from the door at the end of the hallway confirmed her thoughts. Standing in the doorway, the wine glasses and bottle of wine fell from her hands onto the wood floor, crashing and sending shards of glass all around her, while wine splashed onto the walls, her outfit, and a nearby dresser.
Bristol screamed louder than she ever had before at the horror that lay before her.
Joe was lying on his back in the bed, head bent at an angle, his mouth a grotesque depiction of terror the rest of his nude body hidden underneath the woman who sat halfway astride him. They clearly had been in the midst of a sexual act when someone had decided to bring their illicit affair to an end.
Compelled to move forward by some unseen force, Bristol stepped into the room, the sound of her heels crunching the glass underneath her, unheard by her ears. The woman’s eyes were closed. Both bodies postured in a macabre depiction of pleasure. Her back was to the doorway suggesting she had been oblivious to the audience of their intruder, who was privy to their private and indecent moment.
A gamut of emotions rolled through Bristol at the recognition that the woman Joe was having an affair with was none other than his former girlfriend, Rachel Stringer. Who had committed this gruesome crime? Who else had known about their affair, because Bristol surely hadn’t? She felt herself growing sick, the morning’s breakfast roiling inside her belly, bubbling up to her throat, leaving an acidic trail behind as she turned and ran into the bathroom and threw up all over the floor.
Hands on her knees, chest heaving, eyes stinging, she tried to block out the scene she had just witnessed. But it was impossible. Shock and hurt ran a rampant and competitive race throughout her to see which would come through at the finishing line first.
How could he do this to her? Did he not realize how much she loved him? Did he not understand the devastation his acts could create? How long had this been going on between them, or was this some one-time thing?
On shaky legs, Bristol walked to the sink, gripping the cold ceramic in her hands as she tried to quell the fear and disgust churning in her stomach. She had no idea who had done this, or even if they would come back again. For all she knew, that person could still be in the house. With that thought in mind, she ran into the bedroom, locked the door and grabbed Joe’s house phone from the night table. Careful not to allow her eyes to look their way again, she rushed back into the bathroom and locked that door, as well.
Dropping on the edge of the Roman tub, she dialed nine-one-one, refusing to wait another moment to discover if she was alone.
“Nine-one-one dispatch, how may I assist you?”
“Uh…my…I need…”
“Hello, ma’am. How can I help you?”
“They’re dead…” she cried hysterically into the phone.
“Who’s dead, ma’am?” the operator asked.
“He…he’s dead, and she’s dead. My…I need the police here right away,” she stammered.
Bristol was uncertain of any other questions that were asked of her, she only knew eventually she got off the phone and released a loud wail from deep within her body.
She cried until the police and ambulance arrived. She was inconsolable as they made their way throughout the house, conducting their investigation. Shortly after their arrival, she began crying again when she heard one of the paramedics say, “We have a pulse!”
She cried in relief that despite the heartache she was facing, their lives were not lost. She cried for the loss of her relationship and child, and she cried for his betrayal of their love.
