A forbidden-love ? grumpy/sunshine ? forced-proximity MC romance
A white-out blizzard wasn’t on my New Orleans bucket list, and crashing my getaway Jeep on enemy turf definitely tops the bad-idea charts.
Silvan “Venom” Mercer Combat medic. Enforcer. The silent savage who patches bullet wounds by day and breaks bones by night. I’ve had a crush on the man for as long as I can remember, but he has no idea who I am.
He found me shivering beside twisted metal in nothing but flamingo pajamas and fuzzy slippers, both of which are useless against twenty degrees and his open hostility. You see, I’m...
A forbidden-love ? grumpy/sunshine ? forced-proximity MC romance
A white-out blizzard wasn’t on my New Orleans bucket list, and crashing my getaway Jeep on enemy turf definitely tops the bad-idea charts.
Silvan “Venom” Mercer Combat medic. Enforcer. The silent savage who patches bullet wounds by day and breaks bones by night. I’ve had a crush on the man for as long as I can remember, but he has no idea who I am.
He found me shivering beside twisted metal in nothing but flamingo pajamas and fuzzy slippers, both of which are useless against twenty degrees and his open hostility. You see, I’m Willow, daughter of Reign’s rival president, and I think I’m about to start a war when Venom slings me over his shoulder, muttering about frostbite and damn politics, before dragging us to a cabin on the back acres of Savage land. Now I’m stuck with the enemy who looks way too good in flannel, smells like sin on a cold winter day and when I finally peel my eyes off him I notice something else.
There’s only one way out. There’s only one shower. And one bed big enough for exactly one grumpy sinner and one sunshine-girl.
Outside, the storm howls and it won’t be long before my father’s men come hunting for me. Inside, Venom keeps my body against his, swearing I’m untouchable…while his steady hands and rough whispers say otherwise. I’m the enemy princess he can never claim. He’s the tattooed medic with rough hands and soft lips who’ll spill blood to keep me safe.
Can I trust my thawing heart—and my life—to the biker who calls me “angel” through gritted teeth. Or will the blizzard outside be kinder than the war we spark when dawn breaks?
