Release Boost

Title: HER 
Author: Britney King
Genre: Psychological Thriller
Release Date: February 28, 2019

“After four, I quit counting. What’s the point if you know it isn’t going to stop?”
Sadie is jealous. Why wouldn’t she be? Her life is falling apart. Meanwhile, her new neighbor is everything she is not.
Ann is perfect—the kind of woman everyone loves to hate—and a best friend to die for. She hosts over-the-top dinner parties, takes parenting to an entirely different level, and makes ambition look sexy as hell. 
Sadie learns quick: the best way to cure jealousy is to befriend it. She also learns there’s more to her new friend than meets the eye. She’s patient, she’s kind, and possibly a serial killer.
It isn’t until Ann’s proclivities hit a little too close to home that Sadie has to ask herself how much she’s willing to overlook in the name of getting what she wants.
Exquisitely paced, Her is an unnerving and electrifying psychological thriller about jealousy, passion, and the dangerous places desire can take you. Full of enough tension and twists to make even the most seasoned suspense reader break out in a cold sweat, it keeps you guessing until the very last page.

“A perfect dark, pleasure.”

“Raw. Visceral. Twisted. This may well be King’s best work yet.”

“Her starts with a bang and never lets up. It’s the kind of story that makes you think long after you turn the final page.”

“Masterfully suspenseful. Slickly poetic.”

“Fans of Gillian Flynn and Paula Hawkins meet your next obsession.”

“Provocative and scary.”

“A dark and edgy page-turner. What every good thriller is made of.”

“Fresh and breathtaking insight into the darkest corners of the human psyche.”

Britney King lives in Austin, Texas with her husband, children, two dogs, one ridiculous cat, and a partridge in a pear tree.
When she’s not wrangling the things mentioned above, she writes psychological, domestic and romantic thrillers set in suburbia.
Currently, she’s writing three series and several standalone novels.
The Bedrock Series features an unlikely heroine who should have known better. Turns out, she didn’t. Thus she finds herself tangled in a messy, dangerous, forbidden love story and face-to-face with a madman hell-bent on revenge. The series has been compared to Fatal Attraction, Single White Female, and Basic Instinct.
The Water Series follows the shady love story of an unconventional married couple—he’s an assassin—she kills for fun. It has been compared to a crazier book version of Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Also, Dexter.
Around The Bend is a heart-pounding standalone, which traces the journey of a well-to-do suburban housewife, and her life as it unravels, thanks to the secrets she keeps. If she were the only one with things she wanted to keep hidden, then maybe it wouldn’t have turned out so bad. But she wasn’t.
The With You Series at its core is a deep love story about unlikely friends who travel the world; trying to find themselves, together and apart. Packed with drama and adventure along with a heavy dose of suspense, it has been compared to The Secret Life of Walter Mitty and Love, Rosie.
The Social Affair is an intense standalone about a timeless couple who find themselves with a secret admirer they hadn’t bargained for. For fans of the anti-heroine and stories told in unorthodox ways, the novel explores what can happen when privacy is traded for convenience. It is reminiscent of films such as One Hour Photo and Play Misty For Me. 
Without a doubt, connecting with readers is the best part of this gig. You can find Britney online here: 
To get more– grab two books for free, by subscribing to her mailing list at or just copy and paste into your browser. 
Happy reading.




Release Boost

Title: Beck
Series: Westside Skulls Motorcycle Club #7
Author: Jessie Cooke
Genre: MC Romance
Published: January 14, 2019

“… the brilliant & addictive Jessie Cooke has penned another fantastic story which completely original in the MC genre.” ~The Power of Three Readers

“I was totally intrigued and enthralled throughout this humorous and powerful story.” ~Wendy’s Book Blog

“I love this series & some books I liked more than others. But, this book would be the top of this series for me!” ~Escape Reality Book Blog (Shannon)

Most little girls grow up idolizing supermodels, princesses or movie stars…but not Rebekah Golden. Rebekah “Beck” Golden grew up idolizing two men. One was her father, a Navy hero who died before she was even born…and a biker. Maybe being born along the side of the road in a desert, and seeing the bikers face before she saw anything else had something to do with it. Or maybe it was the letters that Xander “Coyote” Lee sent her every year on her birthday, showing her a side of himself that even those closest to him never saw, but those two men would serve to be the inspiration for almost everything she did for the first thirty-five years of her life.




When Beck finally had to admit that no matter how hard she worked, she’d never be the right gender for the Navy Seals that she coveted, she moved on to her next dream. But if she thought the US Government had a chip on its shoulder about women in their ranks…she hadn’t seen anything yet. Rebekah shows up in California at the clubhouse Coyote built, almost four years too late to gain his support. But she recognizes her hero in his son and manages to convince him to give her a chance. Rebekah will give more of herself for the goal of becoming a Westside Skull than she’d ever given to anything in her life…but will it be enough?


Beck Golden is a lot like the men she will have to fight against for what she wants. She cusses like a sailor. She’s got a dark outlook on life. She’s sarcastic and edgy….and when it comes to sex, she thinks like a man. She’s also drop-dead gorgeous, and she knows it. To Beck, it’s just another weapon in her arsenal of many. To keep from being thought of as just another club girl, Beck will turn that beauty in the direction of an unlikely and unsuspecting biker named Jace. Jace has had a rough life, and his exterior shows it. Big, dark and covered in scars, Jace makes most people want to run in the opposite direction, but Beck Golden doesn’t scare easily. Using Jace to satisfy her almost constant sexual urges will be the easy part though. Not falling in love with him once she starts to see past that frightening exterior…that might just be impossible.
Jace is a biker, a Skull, and in his role as a nomad his loyalty to both the Southside and Westside has been above reproach. He doesn’t believe any differently about women in the club than his brothers do. But what Jace does believe in is Beck. Through Jace and another unlikely champion, the president of the Westside Skulls himself, Beck might just discover that’s all she was looking for all along. Ride along with us and get to know Beck and Jace, and don’t forget to pay attention to the scenery. You might just uncover another secret or two about the club you love along the way.
* * *
Book 7 in the Westside Skulls MC Series. 
This is a Standalone Romance Novel but characters from this story, will appear in future books in the series.
HEA and No cliffhanger. 
Intended for Mature Readers.
* * *
The Westside Skulls MC Series is about members of the MC club, their friends and associates. 
Each story, while focused around one main character, is not necessarily about a Westside Skulls club member, but the story is related to Skulls members and the club.
Chapter One
Mid-Atlantic Ocean

Rebekah Golden handed the sailor his bottle of pills through the pharmacy window. He looked at the label and said, “Do they dissolve?”

She rolled her blue eyes. “No. You swallow them.” God, she hated this job.

“I can’t swallow pills. Does it come in liquid?”

“Are you serious? How old are you, sailor?”


“How the hell did you make it to twenty years old without the ability to swallow a pill? Mommy crush everything up for you, did she? Or maybe she had them give it to you in suppository form?”

The young kid looked like he might cry. The only emotion Beck felt was disgust. She hated soft, weak people, especially men. Some days, she could hardly stand it at all. The US Navy was full of whiny, immature little boys…who were given preferential treatment over women like her, just because they had a penis. Beck had seen quite a few of them, the penises that is. Just that morning she’d seen her favorite one, her on-ship booty call. His was impressive, but still not worthy of bragging rights in her opinion. Beck had been in the Navy for almost seventeen years. She would be turning thirty-five years old in a couple of months and she could outrun, outlift, outswim, outshoot, and out most of them at just about everything else.

She’d been training since day one to be a SEAL. Hell, she had started training for that when she was a kid. It was all she ever wanted to be. And she had gone into the Navy, sure that it wouldn’t be long before the US Government realized how much potential they were wasting. About that, sadly, she had been wrong. In 2017 they still denied women the right to be in combat. They denied them the right to be in the Special Forces of all branches of the military. And their only reason was that they didn’t have penises. It pissed her off every time she thought about it. Beck knew that her balls were bigger than any of these assholes and she proved it on a daily basis, so she had just finally decided…fuck them. She had put in for early retirement and that was happening in a week. If the SEALs didn’t want her, she would go blaze a new trail.

“I’m sick,” the sailor said. “My throat hurts. Can you please…?” The sound of the alarm drowned his whiny voice out, thank God. Beck didn’t waste time by asking him to repeat what he said. She didn’t care to begin with, and the second that alarm went off…her switch was flipped. That sound opened her adrenaline valve and it poured into her system. It made her feel strong, sharp, and most of all, alive.

Beck slammed down the window in the pathetic little sailor’s face and twisted the lock before grabbing her EMT bag and running for the door. She locked it on her way out and paused only long enough to hear what was coming over the radio speaker mounted overhead. The screeching noise stopped and a scratchy, robotic voice wafted out.

“White smoke, Compartment 2B L Aft CPO! Explosion, fire, black smoke, Compartment 2B L Aft CPO! Away the Flying Squad, away! Away the Flying Squad, away!” Those words were music to Beck’s ears, especially when the voice followed that up by saying, “This is not a drill.” 99 out of 100 times that alarm went off, it was a drill. Those were okay too…they at least broke up the monotony of her day-to-day job as a nurse, or more accurately, a pill pusher.

Beck had always sought out danger and thrills, and she had picked the nursing squad when she first entered the Navy, imagining herself on the frontlines as a medic, or like one of the nurses on the old television show, MASH. What she got was eight hours a day of looking at rashes in strange places and inflamed dicks because these idiots were too stupid to wear a rubber. She handed out more penicillin and Ibuprofen than she did anything and it bored her to tears. So, the second she was given the chance to join up with the Flying Squad, she jumped at it. Amazing that someone without a penis was good enough for that…but, in this case, she wasn’t complaining.

“Away the Flying Squad” was the Navy’s call to the elite group of sailors she belonged to. They were comprised of people from all specialties such as machinery repair, damage control, hull technicians, medical personnel, and firefighters. They were the first line of defense on a ship when an incident occurred out at sea. These sailors were put through basic and advanced damage control classes and then they learned to perform every position on the team from the top command in charge to the guy that mopped up the mess afterwards. They responded to fires, floods, toxic gas leaks, and many other types of emergencies. It was the only thing that Beck lived for lately…that, and her plans for after retirement.

She raced toward the left aft, the port side of the back of the ship. Anyone and everyone on the ship that wasn’t a part of the Flying Squad, or involved in the emergency itself, would still press pause on whatever they were doing. They would look toward the speakers on the wall and wait for the orders to come. Even those sailors that were sleeping would be expected to wake up and be ready in the event that they were needed, or that an evacuation was called for. 

Beck reached the main hallway, still running, balls-out. Even as she saw the foot traffic in front of her, she didn’t slow her motion. She yelled out a warning, and if they didn’t move they would get mowed down. Either way, Beck would arrive at her post ahead of most of the rest of her team every time. The Flying Squad did enough drills that the other sailors knew what to do when that alarm went off. Their main jobs were to stay alert and get the hell out of the way. Beck likened it to pulling over to the right-hand side of the road to let an emergency vehicle pass. Any idiot knew the drill, and Beck had knocked them down like dominoes more than once…just so they never forgot again.

Beck knew every inch of the ship, the USS Alaska III. She’d not only been deployed out to sea on it several times now, but as part of her training in the Flying Squad, she had to pass a test, labeling every inch of the ship, every nook, cranny, and closet. She could do it in her sleep now, or behind a curtain of thick, black smoke. They often piped the smoke in during their drills to allow them practice using their gas masks and oxygen tanks, and the team members were expected to get to where they were going, quickly and blindly.

Beck made it to the control locker where all the equipment was stored in under a minute. The Fire Marshall was already there, handing out the equipment the team would need as they arrived, and issuing orders. The locker held breathing apparatus, fire extinguishers and hoses, medical equipment…and much more. Everything they might need in an emergency situation was in the control locker, and Beck was confident that her commander knew exactly what he was doing when he barked out his orders.

“There was an explosion on the fantail and there’s a fire. We have one man down that I know of. I have no idea if he was injured in the explosion or the fire, or if it’s smoke inhalation. Take a litter and make sure your radio is on. I’ve already notified the medic chopper and they’ll be standing by for orders.”

Beck grabbed a second medical bag and in one fluid movement she and her partner picked up the litter, the basket that they would transport the sailor out in if need be. Her partner placed it up against his back and held onto it with one hand while he reached up and grabbed the furthest rung he could reach on the ladder with the other. Beck steadied the basket on his back with one hand and slowly climbed up behind him. As soon as he was up top, he pulled the litter the rest of the way through and Beck tossed up both of her bags and then followed them. 

The smell and the smoke were both overwhelming. She slapped on a pair of latex gloves and put the gasmask on; so did her partner, and they moved forward through the thick, black smoke. It was like soup and they were both moving by memory and not by sight. It smelled like oil was burning, which made sense, since the deck they were on was where the storage containers were kept in a compartment all the way at the aft of the ship. It looked like the firefighters almost had the fire contained already as they got closer, but Beck knew that the toxic, billowing smoke could be twice as deadly as the flames.

Her partner dropped to his knees and let the basket drop down next to him on the deck. Beck slid in on her knees, opening her bag before she even stopped moving. She was at the sailor’s head and she positioned it so that his airway was open. She put her thumbs in his mouth and pulled it open so she could see if there was anything blocking his airway. What she did see made her cringe. His tongue was black and so was the back of his throat. Her partner had cut open the man’s uniform and was putting the AED pads on his chest and ribs, and it was Beck’s job to put the non-rebreather mask on and make sure he was getting oxygen. She hesitated. If they were able to restart his heart, this sailor was in for a long and arduous journey and from what she saw, he would more than likely have lung damage and suffer from breathing problems for the rest of his life if he made it. He would probably die en route to the hospital after they cracked a few ribs to get his heart restarted. That was almost exactly the way her father had died. When she was old enough, she requested a copy of the death report from the Navy. He had been near an IED that exploded and set a gas pump on fire. He inhaled too much smoke, but the medics saved him…long enough for his cracked rib to puncture a singed lung and cause him to choke on his own body fluids and die on the way to the base.

“What are you doing, Golden? Get the mask on him!” her partner snapped.

“He’s gone,” she said. “Are we really doing him any favors at this point?”

“Damn it! That’s not your call and you know it.” Her partner pushed her out of the way. Beck didn’t like to be manhandled and her first impulse was to go back at him, but she was stopped by another one of their teammates. He was a friend of hers and when he grabbed her from behind he said:

“Do you really want it to end like this, Beck? Seventeen years…and a dishonorable discharge?”

Beck looked down at the man on the deck. She saw her father’s face. He was twenty-two years old when he died…a horrible death. She never got to meet him, but she always wondered if he thought about her in those moments right before he took his last breath. He was discharging from the Navy in less than two weeks when he died. He was coming home to be with her and her mother. She wondered if this kid on the ground had any kids of his own…or one on the way.

“Beck,” the friend who was still holding her said softly. She nodded and pulled away from him. Her partner was back on the AED. Beck took hold of the rubber bulb and began to force oxygen into the man’s lungs. Just about the time they heard the chopper approaching, the AED informed them that the man had a pulse. The next second he began to cough and choke and wheeze. He was choking on his own blood and vomit as they loaded him into the litter and attached it to the cable the chopper had lowered down to them. Beck didn’t wait around and watch him go. As soon as she let go of the litter, she was gone. She turned in her equipment and went straight to her quarters. She would get her ass chewed out for not staying for mop-up and debriefing. She might even get written up for it, but if there was one thing that Rebekah wasn’t about to do in front of any man, it was cry.
Jessie Cooke writes hot romance novels about tough guys, bad boys, bikers, fighters and lovers and the women of strong character who tame them.



Release Boost

Title: Cavalier
Series: Crimson Elite #1
Author: T.L. Smith
Genre: Romance (standalone)
Release Date: December 27, 2018

“⭐ 5 “Explosive” Stars ⭐Cavalier sounded amazing just from the blurb and it incontestably ended up being a highly addictive read! I couldn’t put this book down and read it in one sitting! T.L. Smith shaped a couple with an explosive chemistry that burned up the pages and fashioned an intriguing fast-paced plot! I absolutely loved everything about this novel!” – Book Maniac Forever 

“This book… holy god, it was like a shock to my system, to my senses… to everything in me. From the moment I saw the blurb of Cavalier–and that delectable cover–I knew I wanted to get in on it. It just sounded so dark and daring and sexy as hell. And I was right–it was absolutely all of that and more. It was raw and gripping and downright intriguing. Every page had me holding my breath and clutching the sheets.” – Rentastic Reads

“WOW, what an incredible blend of dark alpha men and strong sassy women. Creed and the Crimson Elite Boys set the new standard for powerful, possessive and down right irresistible men. Though the playfulness of Echo and Falcon sharply contrast with the darker, no nonsense Creed and Darby.” – Kathryn Clik Book Blog


“5+ PHENOMENAL CRIMSON ELITE STARS!! This book is in my top 10 books for 2018. T.L. Smith is going out with a bang for 2018, with her new series….It is PHENOMENAL. Creed is the perfect man hot, quiet, confident, rich and knows how to take care of a woman” – Rhonda Goodreads reviewer

Welcome to Crimson Elite, the most exclusive sex club in the world.
Enter at your own risk, and always remember our number one rule—
You must never speak of Crimson Elite—the punishment is severe.
Creed ‘Too Hot For Words’ Christopher
If God created the perfect man he would closely resemble Creed, on the outside that is.
He’s as cavalier as they come. Unconcerned. Cold. Dismissive. I wonder if he has any feelings at all.
And when his lips touch mine, everything goes black. He takes me into his world, and it’s the most magical thing I’ve ever experienced.
And I’m sucked in time and time again.
Like a moth to the flame, I am ready to be set alight.
Elicea ‘F*cks With My Head’ Beckham
Elicea is a firecracker. She has piqued my interest, and no one piques my interest anymore.
Beautiful women are what I do—it’s my work.
Not one of them has managed to get their claws into me the way she does. It’s as if she’s seeing my ice heart and trying to set it alight with each touch of her sinful lips.
But that can’t work, it won’t work.
Not in my world.


Release Boost

Title: Coyote Lee: SKULLS – The Early Years #2
Author: Jessie Cooke
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: October 26, 2018

“This is a beautifully written story, which is heartbreaking and emotional, all which had me totally captivated throughout this addictive page turner.” ~ Wendy’s Book Blog


“Coyote Lee is a story about love, loss, life, mistakes, courage, betrayal and addiction wrapped up in a captivating story that I couldn’t put down.” ~ KDRBCK

The night Xander Lee found himself half-drowned, flat on his back and looking up into the blue eyes of his savior, everything changed. Going from lost boy to hardcore biker overnight definitely had its advantages. But could a guy with no social skills and the burden of a guilt he couldn’t shed, ever really fit in? Called Coyote by his brothers and friends, he struggled to do his best, but falling in love with his president’s old lady might just be his fatal mistake. That mistake would see him banished to another coast, alone, afraid and expected to fail.
With the weight of a soul that ached constantly and an almost nonexistent sense of self, Coyote found enough of a spark inside him to get things started…and from there he would blaze a path that no one saw coming. Not just any man could take one brick and build an empire…but despite his own misgivings, Coyote Lee was no ordinary man. Even life at the top didn’t come without a heavy price however. The love/hate relationship he had with the man who gave him a second chance at life, lay at the core of almost everything he did. The secrets he kept to himself for so many years gnawed at his soul. The whiskey he tried to drown the pain with was never enough, and the women and children who loved him would only get a glimpse of who the man inside really was.
Could Coyote ever measure up to the late, great Doc Marshall? Or would he die trying? Take a ride with us through the Central Valley of California and across the all the hearts that Coyote touched in this life and decide for yourself, but hang on tight and be careful what you say and do…because someone is always watching!
* * *
Book 2 in the SKULLS – The Early Years MC Series. 
This is a Standalone Romance Novel but characters from this story, will appear in future books in the series and many have appeared in the previous series of Southside Skulls and Westside Skulls.
No cliffhanger. 
Intended for Mature Readers.
* * *
Skulls – The Early Years MC Series is about members of the MC club, their friends and associates.

He surprised himself. That didn’t even sound like him. It sounded like Doc. He had been paying even more attention than he thought he had. He was still shaking inside, and the voices in his head still wanted to tell him he couldn’t do this. He had been failing at everything since he was fifteen years old. No way could he build an empire the way that Doc Marshall had. For the first time however, Coyote shut those voices down…with the truth. Doc Marshall hadn’t come by that patch on his chest honestly, that was a fact. Sure, he’d worked his ass off for it once he did get it, and he earned everything he had accumulated since, including the respect of his men. But when Doc “stole” that patch he now wore for over a decade, it came with connections, and bank accounts. It was like having a house with a frame and a foundation whereas Coyote would be starting with less than nothing…hell, he would literally have to level the dirt upon which he would build his empire. But something inside of him was awakened suddenly…a spark that he’d never felt before. He was tired of only surviving. He wanted to thrive. He didn’t want to be Doc Marshall. He wanted to be Coyote fucking Lee…and long after he was gone, he wanted people to remember his name.


Jessie Cooke writes hot romance novels about tough guys, bad boys, bikers, fighters and lovers and the women of strong character who tame them.



Release Boost

Title: Sean
Series: More Than Friends #1
Author: Fiona Keane
Genre: Romance
Release Date: November 27, 2018
I have everything they said I would need. A degree, a job, an amazing group of friends—but there’s one thing missing… 

To him we’re nothing more than friends—good friends. To me he’s the one man who makes my heart beat faster. It doesn’t matter that his affections are elsewhere, I continue to love him from a distance dreaming of a happily ever after.
Then…my world is turned upside down. Even if we manage to find each other through this storm, it will be a race against time.
A fight against all the odds.
The battle of a lifetime.
No matter where this road takes us, I won’t regret a thing. He’s the man who owns my heart, my soul, and everything in between.
And his name…is Sean.

I reminded myself of the bubbly pink thing in my glass and began pulling my hand toward my face when the cup was jerked from my grasp.

“Delicious,” Sean murmured as he sipped from the rim of my glass, lifting his eyebrows and grinning hopelessly. Is this real?

“Where did you come from?” I snapped. “What are you doing here?” The words fell out in accusation, but I was more surprised than anything. I stopped dancing and stared at him, tanned and gorgeous. His beard disappeared into delectable stubble. I had to stop myself from wanting to touch it, to touch him. His wavy hair was cropped, forcing my focus to his glowing emerald eyes which stared at me.

“Meeting Jesse. What are you doing here?” This creep owes me an explanation. Or does he?

“Come here.” I pulled on his wrist and walked with Sean through the gaping wall of windows that was open for the evening, blasted with heat lamps and fans. Sorry, planet. In the dim glow of the streetlights I observed Sean was wearing all black; dress pants and shirt, of course teasingly unbuttoned at the top with his cuffs rolled over his muscular forearms. I continued sipping from my glass, eyeing him suspiciously. I wasn’t sure what to say, how to feel, or if he was actually standing there.

“I thought you were still in Miami,” I pressed, taking a sip from my drink.

“I thought you’d be spending a Saturday night with your boyfriend.” His top lip rolled from between his teeth, jaw clenched, and eyes wild.

“Girls’ night,” I reminded him, smiling coyly. “When did you get back?”


“You waited almost a week to tell me.” I swung at his arm playfully. “I’m hurt. I’m going back inside and you owe me a drink now that you’ve tampered with this one.”

I turned to walk back into the bar and I felt his fingers quickly wrap around my wrist and lift the glass from my hand. “I think you’ve had enough, Ave.”

My body warmed with his hand along the middle of my back as Sean guided me back to the booth. I was only on my second drink and resentful he thought it was his place to tell me I had enough. I had enough of his stupid, handsome face, that was for sure. I had enough of him the last time I saw him, when he left me alone. Shudder. I didn’t have enough then. Seeing him next to me, feeling his skin on my back, his eyes burning into mine, reminded me of how much not enough I had of Sean.

Ella and Lizzie were still dancing in the middle of the floor, leaving our booth empty. I noticed Jesse turn from the bar and gaze in our direction, his mouth spreading into a playful smile. It was one twisted reunion, and I couldn’t stop myself from attending.

Fueled by coffee and rainy days, shelves of books consuming her home in the Pacific Northwest, and a vivid imagination, Fiona writes about love because she believes the world needs more of it. She could spend eternity lost in a story, taken into someone’s thoughts while she is left lingering there long after the pages have turned. Fiona works to meld themes in the current world and spin them into stories of longing, determination, and hope.

Release Boost

Title: Coyote Lee: SKULLS – The Early Years #2
Author: Jessie Cooke
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: October 26, 2018
The night Xander Lee found himself half-drowned, flat on his back and looking up into the blue eyes of his savior, everything changed. Going from lost boy to hardcore biker overnight definitely had its advantages. But could a guy with no social skills and the burden of a guilt he couldn’t shed, ever really fit in? Called Coyote by his brothers and friends, he struggled to do his best, but falling in love with his president’s old lady might just be his fatal mistake. That mistake would see him banished to another coast, alone, afraid and expected to fail.
With the weight of a soul that ached constantly and an almost nonexistent sense of self, Coyote found enough of a spark inside him to get things started…and from there he would blaze a path that no one saw coming. Not just any man could take one brick and build an empire…but despite his own misgivings, Coyote Lee was no ordinary man. Even life at the top didn’t come without a heavy price however. The love/hate relationship he had with the man who gave him a second chance at life, lay at the core of almost everything he did. The secrets he kept to himself for so many years gnawed at his soul. The whiskey he tried to drown the pain with was never enough, and the women and children who loved him would only get a glimpse of who the man inside really was.
Could Coyote ever measure up to the late, great Doc Marshall? Or would he die trying? Take a ride with us through the Central Valley of California and across the all the hearts that Coyote touched in this life and decide for yourself, but hang on tight and be careful what you say and do…because someone is always watching!
* * *
Book 2 in the SKULLS – The Early Years MC Series. 
This is a Standalone Romance Novel but characters from this story, will appear in future books in the series and many have appeared in the previous series of Southside Skulls and Westside Skulls.
No cliffhanger. 
Intended for Mature Readers.
* * *
Skulls – The Early Years MC Series is about members of the MC club, their friends and associates.

Texas 2002
“What’s that you’ve got there?” The social worker had gotten the call early that morning. She had been doing this for almost twenty years, and these calls still rattled her to her very core. She recently moved from California to Texas, somehow hoping that things wouldn’t be so dark there. She’d seen things that she had to suppress and they only came out now in her nightmares. Texas wasn’t any different; at least that’s what her first call of the day today was about to teach her. She sat on the dirty couch next to the little boy. If the cop who called her hadn’t told her he was a boy, she wouldn’t have been able to tell. He had his head bowed and tons of matted, dark hair hanging down over his face. It looked like his hair had been braided at one time, but they were dreads now. She wasn’t sure if that was intended or not. “Hey, the officer told me your name is Adan. I’m Trinity.” She held out her hand, close to where she knew he could see it under all that hair, but he remained focused on what he was holding in his lap. “Can I see this?” She touched it and suddenly the mute, still little boy became like a wild animal. He clutched the leather bundle to his chest and scooted back on the couch, peering out at her through an opening in his hair. Trinity gasped when she saw his face. She hadn’t meant to…but his skin was so dark, and so was his hair, yet staring out at her were the bluest pair of eyes she’d ever seen. “Adan…” she said, again.
“Adam!” The sound that came out of the small boy’s mouth startled her at first.
“I’m sorry, I thought it was Adan…”
His blue eyes cut toward the bedroom. The woman that had been there was gone. Trinity had watched them load the black bag that bore her body into the ambulance when she first got here. The first light of morning was just showing over the horizon then, but now the sun was climbing and Texas was waking up. She looked at the little boy sadly. Her compassion for human beings had drawn her to this job, but her empathy might well destroy her someday. “She called me that,” he said. “I don’t want to be called that anymore. My name is Adam. Adam Marshall.”
“Marshall?” she asked, confused.
The little boy slowly opened up his arms to reveal the vest that he was holding so tightly. It had a big, round patch on the back that said, “Southside Skulls, Boston Chapter.” He turned it over and Trinity saw what was stitched on the front of it. “Doc Marshall, Prez.” Well, maybe at least this poor little baby with eyes like sapphires wouldn’t spend the rest of his life alone…
* * *
Spring 2002
Coyote sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. He’d been staring at the same spot for fifteen minutes. The door to the bathroom opened and Colleen stepped out. Coyote shifted his focus and his eyes roamed his wife’s sexy body. “Is it bad that I’m horny again?” They had made love the night before—it had been passionate and heated—then again that morning when they woke up, but considering what day it was, it had been slower…sweeter. Colleen could always sense his moods and she always knew when he needed her.
She laughed at that and picked his tie up off the dresser. Standing in front of him, she draped it over his neck and moved his long, thick hair so she could slip it underneath. “We don’t have time.”
“Let’s not go,” he said, while she worked on the tie. He lifted his arms and put them on her hips. She had wide, sexy hips. He loved them.
Colleen smiled down at him softly and said, “If I thought you meant that, I’d stay right here with you. But I know you wouldn’t let them lay him to rest without you being there.”
Coyote sighed. “I fucking hate this. We’ve been to way too many funerals lately. I hate funerals. But this one…fuck, babe, this one is the worst.”
She stopped fooling with his tie and bent down so she could press her lips to his forehead. “I know, love. It’s always hard to say goodbye…but when it was so unexpected…”
Coyote chuckled and said, “I honestly believed he would live forever.”
Colleen sat next to him on the bed and took his hand. “He will,” she said. She ran her free hand down his back, over the patch on the kutte he was wearing with his button-down shirt and tie. “Because of this,” she said, and then she moved her hand around front and put it against his chest, over his heart. “And this,” she said. “Because of men like you, who will carry on his legacy. He’ll live forever, baby, and so will you.”
Coyote chuckled again, mostly to fight back the tears that were pressing hard, trying to get out. “I’ll never leave a legacy like he did.”
“Hmm,” she said, “we’ll see. Now stand up and let me do your tie.” Colleen was his biggest fan. Coyote had never been overly confident. His childhood was shit and his early adult years hadn’t been much better. Meeting Doc Marshall had changed his life in so many ways. Who would have thought that falling in love with the man’s wife would have pushed him into the greatest opportunity of his life? Doc banished him to California and for a hot minute, Coyote thought that was it for him. But somewhere he found the resolve he needed to get things started out there…and somehow, things had taken off like one of the wildfires that burn every year in the foothills above the valley that he now called home. He’d met Colleen, and they’d had a son. His son was grown now…and he was a fine young man. Coyote had made so many mistakes along the way, though. He had secrets, even from his wife, that ate away at him daily. He made decisions that ended lives. He walked around in his kutte that said “Coyote, Prez, Westside Skulls” on it, like he owned it. But sometimes deep down in his gut, he felt like he was still faking it. “There,” Colleen said, finally getting the tie all tied up. Coyote pushed the knot up and had to take a deep breath to fill his lungs. He hated wearing the fucking things, but if anyone ever commanded enough respect to deserve one worn at his funeral…it was the man he was going to say goodbye to today.
“Alright,” he said, reluctantly, “I guess we should do this.” They walked out of the room and down the stairs hand in hand. The ranch had changed a lot over the years, but it always did Coyote’s heart good to see the pictures on the wall of the great room when he reached the landing. They had been added to, but none had ever been deleted. He knew there was a lot of talk about taking Hawk’s picture down. The Skulls had been searching for him for three years, but so far, not a trace. One could only hope that the man who betrayed his best friend, and the man they all loved and respected, was dead in a ditch somewhere south of the border.
Coyote’s eyes landed on the very first photograph in line on the wall. It was in black and white, but if you looked closely enough, you could still see that his eyes were unlike anyone else’s.
“Hey, Coyote.” Coyote turned toward the voice and had to quickly correct himself. Doc Marshall’s eyes were looking at him, but not from Doc’s face.
“Dax, I’m sorry I missed you last night, we got in late. You remember Colleen?” Dax Marshall was almost the spitting image of his father…but Coyote could see Dallas there, especially in his smile. His heart still ached when he thought about her. He’d never stopped loving her. He felt guilty about that for a lot of years. But one thing he had learned was that there were different kinds of love, and different levels of it. His love for Dallas had been on a level all its own.
“Of course,” Dax said, taking Colleen’s hand first. “Thank you for coming.” He shook Coyote’s hand then and Coyote, not caring what anyone thought, pulled the boy in for a hug. He knew that an almost twenty-two-year-old Dax would object to being called a boy. But Coyote could vividly remember the day he drove his mother to the hospital to give birth to him. It seemed like only yesterday. Dax stiffened slightly, but he hugged Coyote back. Coyote let him go and said:
“I’m sorry. This is just…surreal, I guess.”
Dax nodded. “Yeah, it is for all of us. The SUVs are outside and ready to go, if y’all want to catch a ride. Otherwise, you can ride out with those of us who are riding.” Coyote looked at the mass of bodies behind Dax. He doubted that a single man who had ridden with the one they were going to bury would dare step into an SUV on a day like today. He looked at Colleen and with her powers of perception, she smiled and said:
“I’ll ride in one of the SUVs and see you there.”
Coyote smiled and kissed her cheek. He looked back up at Dax as she left and said, “You have no idea how much I loved him.”
Dax smiled and said, “You loved him enough that although you wanted his old lady, you never did anything about that. He banished you to the middle of nowhere and you loved him so much that you built an empire…in his name. You loved him so much that you drove my mother to the hospital the day she gave birth to me. I think if I shook this building and all the men who loved and were loyal to my father fell out…you would be on top.”
One of the tears Coyote had been holding back slid out of his eye and began to roll slowly down his cheek. He brought his hand up to wipe it away and he said, “Fuck, Dax…what are we going to do without him?”
Dax looked around the room again, letting his eyes linger on the photos on the wall, and said, “He’ll always be there for men like you and me, Coyote. Any time we want to give up, or we want to settle, he’ll be there, mentally kicking our ass. Anytime I think I’ve just had it…that I’m done…I picture his face when I was five years old and he made me slide down a water slide. I was terrified, but to this day I can’t remember a better feeling than facing that fear and watching the pride on his face as I did. That’s what Doc Marshall was all about. Fears exist…we have to face them, if not for ourselves, then for him and all he did for us. We better get going.”
Coyote nodded. He followed Dax and the crowd of bikers out the door of the Skulls clubhouse. They all stood on ceremony as Dax climbed on the back of Doc’s Harley for one last ride. After the memorial service, it would be retired to the meeting room and another part of Doc Marshall would live forever, in infamy.

Chapter One
New York
July 1975
Sweat, and the smoke of dozens of cigarettes and just as many joints, hung like a sticky fog in the air as Coyote was led down the empty stone hallway toward the room where the fight would take place. His fights were always in a different warehouse and he was picked up at his dumpy little apartment in the Bronx and driven to wherever it would take place by one of Slinko’s men. Sometimes the drive took hours and sometimes only minutes. Coyote was always disoriented when he got wherever they were going, no matter how long it took, thanks to the blindfold they handed to him to put on each time before they left his driveway. You might think, instead of common thugs, that they were the fucking CIA.
Not that he really felt like he had any right to throw stones. Coyote had worked for Slinko now for almost a year. He was one of Slinko’s fighters, a lost kid he “found” on the streets, moved into a crappy apartment, and took ownership of. Coyote and the other fighters might as well have been machines for all Slinko cared. They ate what Slinko’s guys told them to eat. They worked out three hours a day at a gym that took over an hour to get to and back from each day…and come Saturday night, they fought…and they’d better fucking win. Coyote didn’t have any family, and Slinko made sure that all of his fighters stayed way too busy, tired, and isolated to have friends. All that mattered to Slinko in the end was that they won. He had invested a ton of money in them…or so he liked to say when he showed up with a “lecture”…or more like a threat…on a Saturday night. He expected a return for his investment and he only got that if they beat some other guy to a bloody pulp. Coyote had been the star of dozens of Slinko’s fights, and he hadn’t lost yet. He wasn’t sure what would happen if he did. Slinko never came right out and told him. But he wasn’t stupid. He could see that the men who lost their fights never showed back up for another. If Coyote worked for anyone but Slinko he might just think they’d been fired…once they healed, of course. But the truth he knew in his soul was that winning was saving his life.
Still, that wasn’t why he won. Coyote’s “life” consisted of Slinko’s orders and Slinko’s fights. He didn’t have family, he hadn’t been with a woman since he left California almost two years before…and as far as he knew, he had nothing to look forward to. Every so often he would have a dream, mostly at night while he was asleep and the ugliness around him was invisible. He would dream that he was a “real” fighter. He dreamed that he trained in a real gym with a real trainer and come Saturday night, his pick of music was played overhead while he bounced on his toes down the long hallway that would lead to thousands of adoring fans and the brightly lit, well-padded cage in the center of it all.
There was no cage where Coyote fought…just a circle made of bricks. He stood on cement in the center of that circle with his opponent, while the bloodthirsty onlookers made bets on who would still be standing when it was all over. At least the surface encouraged him to stay on his feet. His head had hit the floor so many times that he wasn’t sure his brain could take another concussion. He learned how to fall and he learned how to deal with the pain. It was his life…for what it was worth.
Slinko did pay them when they won…a little. The apartment he so “kindly” allowed Coyote to use had been completely unfurnished. He used his winnings to buy some furniture, dishes, and his most valuable possession…a console television set. It wasn’t one of those newfangled color TVs and there was no antenna on the building…so the picture was fuzzy most of the time and it only got two channels. But the voices of people that weren’t yelling at him…to hit someone, hurt someone, draw blood, or kick ass…soothed his aching soul. He watched things like The Brady Bunch and Leave It to Beaver and tried to imagine how different his life may have been if he’d been raised by Mike and Carol Brady, or Ward and June Cleaver…instead of his parents, God rest their souls.
It didn’t matter what he imagined, however. He knew what his reality was. Tonight, Slinko had met him in a small room in the back of the warehouse, and he’d told him that the opponent he was about to go up against would be his toughest yet. Slinko was being extra nice. He told Coyote that he had put him instead of one of the other guys up against Viper  because he was the “best” and Slinko knew he could do this. He told him that he’d get a big bonus if he won this one…enough to buy a color television and a new antenna. At the end of Slinko’s long spiel, he had told Coyote to be sure and let him know if he didn’t think he was up to winning tonight. He had a lot of money riding on the fight, and if need be, Coyote could be “replaced.” Coyote knew what that meant. In his mind, anyway, it meant that he would be on his way to that seat in hell he was sure the devil had reserved for him, and Slinko’s life would go on…sans a few hundred thousand dollars, and down another fighter.
“I got this,” was all Coyote had said. Now as he walked toward the circle and got a glimpse of “Viper,” death almost sounded more inviting. He took his place on the other side of the circle and quickly, without pulling his head all the way up, he took stock of who was in the room. Coyote was not an educated man, by any means. But he wasn’t stupid, either. He did have one ace in the hole, just in case an opportunity to use it ever presented itself. Coyote had an almost photographic memory. He remembered every face he ever saw, and if there was a name to be put to it, he would remember that as well. These illegal fights that took place in the midst of an empty warehouse in the center of nowhere and under the cover of night were not a poor man’s paradise. Only rich men came here to play. These men were important men in the community. They were doctors and lawyers, cops and politicians. Most of them were married with children…but it was rare that the woman draped over their arm wore a wedding ring or went by the name of “Mommy.”
For those who came alone, Slinko offered a second service…just as lucrative for him as the first one. Slinko didn’t just pimp out fighters. He had a collection of women “robots” as well. Some of them looked way too young to Coyote…but he was barely in a position to speak up for himself, much less anyone else. But he watched and listened, and somewhere deep down inside he hoped that someday he’d have cause to use all that knowledge he’d gained. Slinko offered him a “girl” once as a bonus for winning a fight. Coyote turned down the offer, cursing himself the whole time. He’d only been with one woman in his life, and that was some older woman who gave him a ride on his way out East. He didn’t know what to do with a girl his own age, and he was scared to death that she’d tell Slinko if he did it wrong.
This night wasn’t much different than any other as far as Coyote could tell. The warehouse was packed, and noisy. Coyote was fighting in the second match of the night. The first one had been quick. Coyote wasn’t allowed to watch the other fights; he only knew when they were over and how they went, if the winner came back to the fighter’s room…or the loser hadn’t shown up before they came to call him out. He focused his attention back across the circle on his opponent, Viper. Viper looked like the kind of guy that grown men would cross the street to keep from passing. His neck, chest, and arms were covered in black and white and faded green tattoos that looked like they might have been carefully crafted in prison. Coyote was six-foot-two and this guy had to be at least two inches taller than that. Coyote was told by the “trainer”…the guy who escorted the fighters in and…if they could walk…out of the circle, that he weighed in at three-fifty pounds. He was wearing shorts and nothing else, and as far as Coyote could tell by looking at him, none of the three-fifty was fat. He was bouncing up and down on the balls of his bare feet and nothing was moving. He had scars on his face, a lot of them, and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once. The swastika tattooed on his bare scalp drew the picture together. Coyote knew how to fight, and he was good at it. He did it to survive, but it didn’t normally give him joy. He focused on the swastika now, however, and thought about looking at it on the ground when he took this racist son of a bitch to the floor, and it did feel good.
When the buzzer rang he tried to block out the cheers and jeers echoing off the walls and ceiling around him, and he focused on the giant in front of him. There were no referees, no real rules…the people just wanted to see a fight, preferably a long one, with lots of blood. With both eyes on Viper, waiting for him to make the first move, Coyote cracked his knuckles and his neck and cautiously moved forward until he was close enough to Viper that the other man took a swing. Viper swung hard, but Coyote dodged it, coming up with an uppercut to the other man’s chin. Viper barely flinched, but as soon as Coyote was upright, the man threw another punch…this time his right fist connected with the side of Coyote’s head. His fist felt like steel, and it hurt like a motherfucker, but Coyote didn’t go down. He shook off the ringing in his ears quickly enough to dodge the next blow and this time threw a punch at Viper’s ribs. He hit hard and fast and he heard something snap and Viper wince. He almost hoped that he’d cracked one and punctured a lung, so the fight could be over. No such luck, though. Viper managed to keep moving while he fought through the pain and caught his breath, and then he lunged toward Coyote and started throwing punches one right after the other. Coyote bobbed and weaved and managed to dodge a few of them…but it was a relentless barrage of left, right, left, right, head, shoulders, ribs, head…Viper was trying to wear him down…and doing a pretty good job of it so far.
Coyote’s body was screaming in pain. Viper was in close, using Coyote’s face like a speed bag. He couldn’t hear anything and it was getting hard to see thanks to the blood and sweat in his eyes. He had never wanted to go down so early in a fight before, but this guy was a killer, and if he was going to die anyway, he wondered if he shouldn’t just get it over with. About that time he either saw Slinko or imagined he did, out of the corner of his eye, and the idea of Viper winning wasn’t half as repugnant as the idea of Slinko getting to finish him off if Viper didn’t. Viper wasn’t good with his feet, but Coyote hadn’t been able to get his arms up past the other man’s bulk and he was pushed to the edge of the circle already. So, with all the strength he could muster, he spun his aching body around, lifted his leg, and let his foot connect with Viper’s neck. The big guy stumbled a few feet back. He didn’t fall, but it gave Coyote the room he needed to attack. He didn’t know where the burst of energy came from, but it propelled him forward and he began to pound every part of Viper’s rigid body that he could reach until he heard the sound of the buzzer, calling an end to the first round.
During the small break, the men were allowed to use a wet towel and a dry one to wipe the blood off their faces and bodies and get a drink of water. If anything was bleeding too profusely, one of the “trainers” would try and patch it up, to get them through the next round. Apparently, none of Coyote’s injuries qualified. He mopped the sweat and blood off his face and chest, drank the thermos of cold water, and while he waited for the next buzzer, once again, he soaked up the faces in the crowd.
Without any other fanfare, the buzzer sounded again and Coyote and Viper met in the middle. Viper didn’t waste any time, landing a right jab smack on Coyote’s nose. The pain radiated up through his sinuses and into his ears. It pissed him off…not at Viper, but at himself. Getting hit dead in the face like that was a rookie mistake. But the beating he had already taken made his reflexes slow and his judgment cloudy. That’s why, when he saw Viper rearing back to kick him…he made a fatal mistake. Coyote let his reflexes take over from his good sense, and he turned about ten degrees to the left and ducked his head. Viper’s right foot didn’t hit the target it was looking for. Instead, it sunk into the small of Coyote’s back, right over the top of one of his kidneys. Coyote heard himself scream, right before they turned out all the lights.
* * *
The next thing Coyote remembered was waking up with a pounding headache. Or maybe he wasn’t awake. He felt like he was floating, and then he realized he was suffocating. His head was pounding because his body had no oxygen…he couldn’t breathe. He opened his mouth and only when he sucked in air and got water instead, did he realize that he was drowning.
His body went into survival mode and his arms began to flail, looking for something to grab onto. The water was freezing but the cold at least made him too numb to concentrate on the pain. He needed to take a breath…if he didn’t, his lungs were going to explode. He opened his eyes as much as he could. It was dark, and dirty. He was probably in the Hudson River and if that was the case, fighting was a moot point, but he didn’t know how to not fight…he’d been doing it his entire life. Something kept drawing him toward the bottom of his dark, watery grave, but he fought toward the surface until one of his hands felt the cool air of the night. He sank again, but fought his way up, and then again, and the third time out just as he started his decent…probably for the final time…he felt a big, strong, cold hand clamp down around one of his wrists and then his body being hauled up out of the water, just as if he were no heavier than air.
Coughing, sputtering, choking, and trying to remember how to breathe, he looked up into a pair of eyes so blue that they shone in the night like a cat. Coyote said the first thing that came to his mind…
“Close,” the man sporting the blue eyes said with a laugh. “Damned close.”



Jessie Cooke writes hot romance novels about tough guys, bad boys, bikers, fighters and lovers and the women of strong character who tame them.



Release Boost

Title: Christmas Sugar
Series: Insta-Spark Series
Author: Melanie Moreland
Genre: Holiday Romance
Release Date: December 3, 2018
Graphic Design: Melissa Ringuette, Monark Design Services

Dylan Maxwell is a busy man. His no-nonsense approach to life and business keeps him balanced – and alone. His life is bland – devoid of any kind of sweetness or light.

An unexpected business trip close to Christmas, however, brings three people into his life he never expected. 
An oversharing teenager.
A lisping little angel.
A sexy, unassuming woman unlike any he has ever met. Her bossy attitude challenges him, while her green eyes melt the frost around his heart.
They draw out something in him that he has never experienced.
Are they the Christmas miracles he needs – or will he walk away from the sweetest gift he has ever been offered? 


“Melanie Moreland’s Christmas Sugar is this season’s must have gift for romance lovers. The perfect holiday read.” – B. Cranford, author of The Avenue series


“You won’t even need a fire to make you feel warm this Christmas. Christmas Sugar has a sweet buy sassy heroine who melts the cold brooding hero’s heart will keep the chill away the entire holiday season. I can’t get enough of this adorable and extra fluffy Christmas story.” – Alexa Riley, author of Lift and Hungry for More


“Simply heartwarming. A perfect holiday story to enjoy by a roaring fire with a mug of hot chocolate.” – Mae Wood, author of Genealogy

New York Times/USA Today bestselling author Melanie Moreland, lives a happy and content life in a quiet area of Ontario with her beloved husband of twenty-seven-plus years and their rescue cat, Amber. Nothing means more to her than her friends and family, and she cherishes every moment spent with them.
While seriously addicted to coffee, and highly challenged with all things computer-related and technical, she relishes baking, cooking, and trying new recipes for people to sample. She loves to throw dinner parties, and also enjoys traveling, here and abroad, but finds coming home is always the best part of any trip.
Melanie loves stories, especially paired with a good wine, and enjoys skydiving (free falling over a fleck of dust) extreme snowboarding (falling down stairs) and piloting her own helicopter (tripping over her own feet.) She’s learned happily ever afters, even bumpy ones, are all in how you tell the story.
Melanie is represented by Flavia Viotti at Bookcase Literary Agency. For any questions regarding subsidiary or translation rights please contact her at