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  • Novel Reviews: 1

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Updated
  • Author: PR Brady
  • Status: Completed
  • Age Rating: 18+
  • 👁 3.1K
  • 9.6

Jax saw the brunette, blonde, and redhead walk in the door. It's got to be a sin for 3 gorgeous women to be together. He thought this could be the beginning of a s*xy joke, a brunette, blonde, and redhead walk into a biker bar. Trouble times 3 just walked in the door. Alert the officers." Raine got a job with the Veteran's MC. She falls for Jax. His player ways cause trouble. She doesn't share. He won't be tamed. She's no one's property. Raine barely escaped a bad relationship. She's lost all her family except for her two best friends she's grown up with. She's learned to become independent and rely on herself. Jax is President of the motorcyle cllub. All the brothers have served in the armed forces. He's a rough, tough, true biker who likes his women and no commitments. These two clash big time. Ex's often pop back up. And the problem with club women is they tend to constantly show up causing drama and trouble. He's cold as Ice. She's sweet as honey. His past defines him. She wants to be his future. He thinks she doesn't belong in his world! Kim won't accept anything less than being with Ice. Sam is a nurse. Smokey is an officer in the MC. They both don't do relationships. Is that about to change? What happens when two becomes three? An ex complicates things, or does she give them the push they need to become the family they should be? Snake is Prez to another MC. Will he give up everything to become a third with Sam and Smokey? What kind of hell and trouble do their kids get into? Life is never boring in club life. Follow this badass biker story. +18, daily updates, and fast paced action!

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  • 👁 36.4K
  • 9.5

When I was a child, my grandma used to tell me stories. At the time, I never gave them much thought. Thinking they were just that… stories. Growing up, I soon realized that they weren’t lofty fantasies and fairy tales but memories of her past, memories of our ancestors before our world turned to sh*t. You see, what comes from legend, no matter how exaggerated the story becomes, there is always a sliver of truth. You just need to weed out the fiction from fact. My grandmother used to tell me stories of the Chosen One—the one who would save us all. When I was younger, I used to believe that what she said was true. Eventually, someone would be born, just as the Oracle predicted—someone who could save our souls and bind us back to our magic. Once I grew up and saw the world unfolding around me, I no longer believed in salvation. The chosen one seemed to be more of a prayer than reality. Some dream we wanted desperately to come true. Something in which we needed to find hope when there wasn’t any left. When our ancestors turned their backs on us, how were we expected to believe in this so-called salvation? Especially when all we witnessed was death and carnage ever since the great war. Nothing except pain and poverty. I used to believe the stories and used to pray for the mysterious chosen one that would rid our world of its evil. Now, though, I see it for what it really is, just a dream of hope. Some out of reach fairy-tale. A story to create hope. Hope is dangerous; it makes you believe things will get better. I stopped hanging on to hope when I witnessed firsthand that it caused nothing but heartache.

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Heroes

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