Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
But Sully, the easy-going, Hawaiian-shirt-wearing, good-time-chasing biker wasn’t about to let her die.
Bonnie finds herself in a world she never knew existed outside of her books—one where rough men are unexpectedly kind, where she’s protected instead of forgotten, and where Sully’s patient hands and quiet strength make her feel seen and cherished for the first time in her life.
But danger hasn’t forgotten them. And as the threats close in, Sully will have to fight to keep the woman he never saw coming—the one who’s changing his world just as much as he’s changing hers.
+ Golden Retriever hero
+ Steam
+ HEA
+ No cheating
+ Cozy vibes
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER ONE
Sully
“What the fuck is this?” Fallon asked, whipping the clipboard off the bar.
“A petition,” I called from the couch, eating fruity sugar cereal out of the popcorn bowl with a ladle. The prospects hadn’t loaded the dishwasher, and I wasn’t about to set a bad precedent by doing their chores for them. Not that I did those chores myself as a prospect, but, hey, that was Brooks’s problem, not mine.
“I see that,” Fallon said, flipping through the pages of signatures. They did include some of the club members, the princesses, and some of the kids of the club. But I may or may not have padded the pages with some of the club girls. And a few people I crossed paths with in the bar and grocery store. “For what?”
“Says right there at the top. An APG.”
“Right. And what the fuck is an APG?”
“A fully fun and immersive experience that I think will improve the morale of the entire club.”
Fallon shot me a furrowed brow.
He knew me too well at this point.
“I’m not approving shit until I know what it is,” Fallon said as Brooks made his way into the club, his keen gaze moving around the disaster area that was the common room.
What can I say? We’d had fun the night before. The kind of fun that meant everyone dragged their asses to bed—alone or with company—everyone too wasted or worn out to clean anything up.
“What’s an APG?” Fallon asked Brooks as he sighed and pulled a large trash can out from behind the bar and started to toss the red cups in.
“Seriously?” Brooks asked, looking over at me.
“I’m surprised you’re surprised by anything I do at this point,” I said, getting a snort out of Brooks.
“That’s fair enough. It’s an acronym for ‘adult playground’,” Brooks explained.
“Man, if that’s some sort of sex thing—“
“Surprisingly, it’s not,” Brooks said. “It’s actually just what it sounds like.”
“A playground. You want to build a playground? Don’t we already have one of those?”
“There’s a weight limit on those swings,” I said. “And the slides are too short.”
“Let me get this straight,” Fallon said, exhaling hard. “You wanted a pool. I approved a pool. You wanted a hot tub. You have that. And now you want fucking swings?”
“And a slide,” I agreed. “Besides, APGs aren’t just for fun. They’re for fitness too. And it is in the club’s best interest to keep us all in tip-top shape. You know, heart disease—“
“Christ,” Fallon sighed, then looked over at Brooks. “Is there room for it?”
“Yeah.”
“Is there anything about this that might come back and bite me in the ass?”
“Not that I can think of,” Brooks said, and we all knew he was the guy who was always looking for the worst-case scenario. That was what Fallon hired him for.
“And you’ll check over the final plans to make sure I won’t regret this shit?”
“Yep,” Brooks agreed.
“Then… go ahead. But I don’t want to hear any bitching and moaning when you burn your ass on a hot slide or fall off a swing and break a rib.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” I said, saluting him with my ladle.
“You done with that?” Fallon asked, nodding toward my bowl.
“Just gotta drink my milk.”
“Good. Then go rouse Perish and the twins. This place is a fucking sty. And my kids are popping over here later.”
“On it, boss,” I agreed.
“What the fuck do you have on your feet?” Brooks asked, making me look down at them.
“Slippers. They’re blobfish,” I added, shrugging. “They were a Christmas present from Gracie.”
“What? Did the princesses run out of ridiculous Hawaiian shirts to get you?” Brooks asked as I made my way down the hall toward the prospect room, rapping my knuckles against the door.
“Housekeeping,” I called. “And by that I mean… get your asses up and clean the house,” I told them as I opened the door, finding one of the club girls pulling on her shirt, her hair still bed-messy, her black eye makeup smudged. “Morning,” I said, giving her a smile. “There’s coffee in the kitchen. To-go cups are in the cabinet right above it.”
“Oh, uh, thanks,” she said, giving me a distracted smile before rushing out.
I looked around at the bunk beds, wondering who the hell had managed to get a woman to hook up in front of others.
“She slept above me,” Perish said, sitting up from his bunk, his head literally touching the bunk above him. “Alone,” he added.
“Losing your touch, big man?” I asked.
“She was wasted,” he said, shrugging a massive shoulder.
“How’d her shirt get off?” I asked.
“Tequila,” Perish said with a smile as he climbed off the bed, the metal frame groaning in relief.
Perish was a fucking continent of a man. I was half-surprised clothing manufacturers made shirts in his size. The man was big enough to wear a tarp.
“You said we gotta clean?”