BOOK (LOST CREEK MC BOOK 1)

 

★¸.•´¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*★ COMING 18 APRIL 2020 ★¸.•´¸.•*´¨)✯ ¸.•*★

TWISTED STEEL MC anthology from Knox Publishing

Includes Book (Lost Creek MC Book 1) by Nia Farrell

Length 19,322 words.  Anthology release date April 18, 2020.

In the year 2055, you still don’t mess with Texas…

The Lost Creek MC is comprised of part-Native members adept at living off the land.  Their Vice President Book is a shaman.  A pure telepath, his psychic gifts have allowed them to survive The Fall of 2045 and flourish despite it in the new American Federation of States.

Hard times have led to harsh laws.  In the Flint Hills District of The Great State of Kansas, theft is punishable by death.  Book’s dystopian world is turned upside down when he goes after a water thief and meets the one woman on the planet he can’t read.

Twenty-five-year-old Adrienne James is the daughter of rock star Jackson Thomason, now President of The New Republic of Texas, his twin Jacob, and their wife Anna James. After her radiator hose breaks in Kansas, she’s assessed an exorbitant tap fee that must be paid before she’s allowed to leave. The First Daughter of Texas will be a “guest” of the Lost Creek MC until couriers from Austin make it through Oklahoma unscathed and arrive with the money.

Twelve years younger than Book, Adrienne is unabashedly sensual and totally off-limits.  Yet his Dominant side wants nothing more than to bring her to her knees.  Unfortunately, he’s not the only one who wants her.  The First Daughter is a prime political target, and danger is headed their way.

Book introduces the Lost Creek MC Series and is part of the Twisted Steel MC anthology from Knox Publishing, out April 18, 2020. Written for Ages 18+.

Excerpt 1 (527 words):

“Problems?” he asked.

She forced her shoulders down and swiveled her head to meet his gaze.  Looking into her amethyst eyes was like taking a sucker punch to his gut.

Just who the hell was she?

She gave him a quick once-over before breaking off and slicing her gaze back to her radiator.  “You could say that,” she drawled.

There was a hint of the South in her voice.  Oklahoma?  Southern Missouri, maybe.  She wasn’t native to Washington, that was for certain.

“I blew a hose.  I’m hoping like hell the duct tape will get me to a garage.  You don’t happen to know where I can find one, do you?”

Book eyed the drone and looked at the woman, searching her purple eyes for answers to the questions spiraling in his head.  Who was she?  What was she?  Where had he known her before?  She felt too familiar for this to be the first lifetime their paths had crossed.

For all that she was trying to look tough and act self-sufficient, the truth was, she was as vulnerable as any woman stranded in the middle of nowhere.  It was asking for trouble, but he was determined to not throw her to the wolves or let the hyenas have her.

“Tate’s Auto Repair is about fifteen miles,” he said, registering the flare of disappointment and hint of panic that flashed in her eyes, “but my club—Lost Creek—has a garage for our bikes and cages.  Mack can fix anything and he’ll cut you a deal on labor.  Putting on a hose shouldn’t be too much.”

His unspoken question was received loud and clear.  She bit her lip at the mention of expense, then confessed, “I can pay, or I can get more if I need to.  It’s not safe to travel with too much cash.”

So…she had some money.  Hopefully, she had enough to pay for the water.  Ideally, she had enough to cover it all in AFS dollars.  The legal tender printed by the American Federation of States was the western version of the Euro, available in denominations from one to a thousand.  But there were other forms of trade.  Other means of payment, especially for someone as young and pretty as she was.

And the world was full of men who’d have demanded it.

She was taking a chance that he wasn’t one of them.  But she wasn’t put off by the sight of his cut.  He took that as a good sign.

“True enough,” he agreed smoothly.  “I’ll need you to follow me.  If your van won’t make it, we’ll get Mack to tow it in.”

“Jesus Christ,” she groaned, a soft sound of forced capitulation.  “I hope the fuck not.  My dads are gonna shit a brick if I have to call them.”

He arched a brow at her comment but said nothing.  Two dads were becoming more common these days.  So were ménages.  Hell, the President of the New Republic of Texas shared his wife with his twin brother.

Times, they are a changing.  At least some good things had come along with the bad after the world fell apart.

Excerpt 2 (311 words):

She turned to the club’s Vice President, tilting her head so that she could meet his sapphire gaze.  For a moment, she let herself get lost in them.  “Thank you for stopping to check on me,” she said when she managed to speak again.  “I’m sorry.  I didn’t get your name.”

He cleared his throat, the muscles of his neck making his Adam’s apple do an appealing slide.  When he spoke, his voice was rougher than it had been when it was just the two of them.

“David Reynolds,” he rasped.  “Better known as Book.”

“Book?”

She blinked, wondering if she’d heard him right.

“Book,” he repeated, like he was reading her goddamn mind.  “That’s my road name.  What they call me in the club.”

“Road name.  Yeah, I know,” she quipped, wondering what the hell was her godmother up to.

God bless it, Grace.

She’d told her there was a book in Kansas that she needed to find.  She didn’t say a goddamn word about it being a man.

Those beautiful sapphire eyes went hooded and his body stiffened at the sharpness of her tone.  The look that he gave her was pure Dom and full of censure.

“Sorry, Sir,” she apologized, cringing at how harsh she’d sounded and taking heart in the way that he responded to the honorific.  The man was a Dom.  He had to be.

Please let him be a Dom.

“I was just thinking about my uncle,” she lied.  “He was in a club back in the day.  The Midnight Raiders in Mt. Sterling, Minnesota.”

Scanning the garage, she saw that most of these men rode Hogs.  The younger Colson brother had taught her to ride a Harley.  Aunt Grace’s two husbands had taught her to ride horses.  With all the testosterone in the room, chances were good that she’d be riding a biker tonight.

Excerpt 3 (381 words, NSFW):

“I still don’t know why I can’t read you or why I don’t hear other voices when you’re close by.  It’s like a mute button’s been pushed in my brain.  This morning, when you stepped outside to make your call, all of a sudden I was hearing Deacon just fine.  Usually, I have to listen to the radio or TV or music to drown out the voices enough to sleep.  Tonight will be interesting.”

It would be if she had anything to say about it.

Adrienne pounced on the opportunity he’d presented.  “Aunt Grace says our guards go down while we sleep.  You told me I could pick, but I think we should share the bed.  Keep me close.  See if it works.  Tomorrow night, I can take the couch and you’ll have something to compare it with.  You may hear things with me at night that you won’t when we’re awake.  Sharing a bed will give you a basis of comparison, something to measure against.”

She looked forward to making her own comparisons.  Length and girth.  Skill and duration…

Her eyes must have betrayed her, because he leveled another Dom look at her and slowly shook his head.

“No,” he said firmly, his voice quiet, his Zen-master appearance perfectly calm.

In command of her and in control of himself.

If she didn’t have a lady boner before, she had one now.  Soft-spoken Doms were the best.  They’d watch you misbehave and whisper darkly in your ear, promising to make you regret it.

“Nothing is happening here,” he warned.  “You’re the First Daughter of Texas.  No one in our lodge is gonna touch you, including me… unless it’s to spank that ass and make you behave.”

Yes, please.

“Settle,” he growled.

God damn, she liked the sound of that.  She liked it a lot.  “Are you sure you can’t hear my thoughts?” she wondered.  He certainly wasn’t having any trouble reading her.

His mouth lifted slightly, lips canting upward.  “Your body language is enough.  And you’re not masking your face.  It’s pretty clear where your thoughts are headed, even if I can’t hear them.”

“Well, damn.”  She huffed a breath, unhappy with his refusal to budge when he could be bending her over his knee.

Or his bed.

Or both…

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Read about Adrienne’s rock star parents in

The Three Graces Duet 2: Something Different, Something Awesome

Duet out January 2020 at Amazon.

Also available as single titles Something Different and Something Awesome.

 

Follow the Lost Creek MC Series here at WordPress.

Lost Creek MC Series

 

In 1955, Dwight D. Eisenhower was the visionary President from Abilene, Kansas, who conceived and implemented the interstate highway system.  A hundred years later, the Great State of Kansas has become the Land of Oz, the breadbasket of the American Federation of States formed ten years earlier following the collapse of the world economy and the dissolution of the former United States of America.

In 2055, Kansas is divided into eleven districts, ruled primarily by land barons.  John Kerrigan rules the Flint Hills District with the help of his cousin’s Lost Creek MC.  Armed bikers guard his crops and cattle, escort grain and cattle trucks to market, and—equally important—make certain that no one steals water.  Not his.  Not theirs.

In the Flint Hills District, you steal, you die.

 

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