To reunite with her kidnapped son, a reclusive bookkeeper infiltrates an outlaw biker club, only to fall for one of the members.
When Jenna Mitchell enters the world of the Devil’s Prophets Motorcycle Club, unlike most women before her, she is not there to land herself a biker. After the late president of the MC kidnapped their baby and murdered her sister, Jenna could only look on from the sidelines as another woman raised Jack. Now is her chance to finally reunite with her son, and nothing will stand in her way.
Try telling that to Ali, the club’s enforcer. The stunning, quiet bookkeeper is like the start of his favourite sex fantasy, the part just before the secretary whips off her glasses, and shakes down her hair. One short meeting, and she’s all he can think about.
First love at thirty-two seems unlikely, yet Jenna can’t help falling for the sexy, dirty-mouthed biker. But it’s not all MC parties and off-the-chain hot sex for this interloper. When the man that wants you demands your secrets too, it’s only a matter of time before he will find them out.
About the Author
Pauline lives in a quaint country town where she writes, reads, and is lucky enough to, live romance. Having found the love of her life early, she has no issue with her friends reading her stories, and being unable to make eye contact with her for weeks after. It’s all about love, and the trials of finding a happy ever after in her world.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Pauline Hornsby 2017. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Totally Bound Publishing.
Chrissie placed my résumé on her desk and ran her shrewd eyes across the page. A recent widow, I had to assume that she was as guilty as her late husband.
But if she knew that eighteen years earlier, Hellion, the president of the Devil’s Prophets Motorcycle Club, had drugged me, raped me, kidnapped the son I bore him, and arranged my murder, she didn’t give it away.
She had brought me to an office that was just a portable building situated at the back of a massive, yet empty, workshop. The room was neat, homey, with worn furniture and photos on the walls.
Glancing up, she licked her cherry-red lips. “Well, you’re certainly qualified. Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”
“I’d be doing the accounts, booking jobs, that type of thing.” I leaned forward and placed my finger on the sheet of paper near my last position. “As you can see, I was responsible for reorganizing a client’s entire inventory and upgrading their accounting system. From what I read in your advertisement, you’re looking at a complete overhaul.”
“Yes, but you’ve never worked in a garage before.” She flipped my application over face down. “There’s a lot for you to learn. Costing out jobs, repair quotes, and the like. We do a lot of custom rebuilds here. It can get complicated.”
“I’m a fast learner.” I smiled back at her, even though she pissed me off.
Two days earlier I’d answered an ad in the Mt. Xavier Times for the office assistant vacancy, and if anything, I was overqualified. I was more accustomed to working for large corporations in slick, modern offices and the garage position would hardly be challenging. I’d even gone so far as to downplay my credentials and experience.
I needed this job.
So much so, I hadn’t been far off from getting down on my knees and begging her. Hell, I’d work for nothing, if it wouldn’t have made her and the rest of the club suspicious.
“I’m not doubting you.” She raised her perfectly filled in brows.
It had been a long time since I’d been anywhere near this close to Chrissie. Years, and it shocked me how little she’d aged. She appeared pretty, refined and delicate under her heavy makeup. But then again, most of my observations of Chrissie had been obscured by whatever I’d found to hide behind.
I hated the bitch.
“But you don’t see me here?”
She tilted her head, her platinum hair spilling over her shoulder. “Well, in a way, no.” Nodding at me, she screwed up her mouth. “I’m not sure you’re the right fit.”
I glanced down at myself. My neatly ironed pants, my crisp white shirt worn under a pale pink cardigan, hardly the clothing of a club babe. I was her polar-opposite. Chrissie’s skintight jeans and revealing top, more the kind of outfit a woman wore around a biker gang. I started to doubt my choices, but this wasn’t far from my normal attire.
“But you agree, I can perform the job. The accounts side of things.” I met her eyes, my gaze steady, while hers wavered.
“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But you have to understand, this isn’t a normal workplace. We have different rules here.”
“All businesses do,” I said.
She sighed. “Let me say this bluntly, Jenna. The boys are going to think you are fair game. We don’t want to open ourselves up to a lawsuit because they’ve said something offensive. They’re not going to change their behavior to suit you.”
I didn’t appreciate the reminder of my biggest fear about the MC. I knew what bikers were like all too well. But that wasn’t going to stop me working here. Nothing could. I started to reconsider her reaction to my getting down on my knees, or working for free, when she let out another huff of breath.
“To be honest, you’re our best applicant. But you’re”—she waved her hand out in front of herself—“well, you look like the before part of a porno. The scene right before the secretary rips off her glasses and shakes out her hair. Only I think you’re genuine, that it’s not an act.”
I sat back, startled, and burst out laughing. I had to admit, the last part came from nerves, but Chrissie joined in with me.
“I can assure you, that’s not what I was going for.” I swiped my damp palms down the front of my pants, hoping she didn’t notice. “I can do this job, I just need a chance.”
“I guess there’s not a lot on offer in town,” she said.
There were a few positions, actually. A couple that paid a lot more than this one. But here, if I could convince Chrissie to take me on, I’d get to see my son. All the risks I took by being around the club would be worth it. The Devil’s Prophets had done everything to me that they could, apart from killing me, but it wasn’t as if I had much of a life, anyway.
“Not a lot, no,” I said.
“There’s other things, too.” She flipped my résumé back over, giving me some hope. “When shit gets out, not that there’s shit. But people just assume, you know? It’s citizens we think of first.”
I nod. “Of course. I could sign a confidentiality agreement if you’d like.”
I smiled at her shocked expression. Assuming I did talk out of school, the club would definitely have a way of dealing with me. I doubted anyone bothered with contracts here. Not unless they were the type that you set upon someone you wanted gone.
“Ah, we don’t have to go that far. Jenna, if it were up to me, I’d hire you in a flash. I think we’d get along, and it would be nice to have another woman around here to work with. But…”