The bad boy. The fuck up. The thief.   That was me. Once a king, Now a wanderer.   I’d thrown the best parts of me away, over and over again. I was reckless. Still am. I’d been exiled. Twice. I did my time. I’ve cleaned up. Well, sort of. I got plans. Yeah, good ones.   Then I ran into her.   A bolt of lightening Startling Unsettling Breathtaking Out of reach.   The woman I once scorned years ago is now the woman I can’t live without. I need what I didn’t think I’d ever need again. I want and want and want.   Torture. She’s the epicenter of the war I’ve triggered, of the battle in my rusted heart. I may be as reckless as I ever was, but I’m determined as fuck. To hell with it.   I want it all.

A knife that cut too deep, a slash that still burns, failures piled high and flammable. I held my losses at bay with knives, with guns, my hands, my bike, my brothers, my iron will. But not my heart. No, my heart was the flame that would light the match, ignite the blaze. I am the enforcer The killer when called upon, the ruthless hound on demand, the one who cleans the mess left behind. The protector I can make you bleed, Smash you to pieces. But she smashed all my excuses, and I shattered hers. For a split second she was mine, but I will always be hers. Some things, really beautiful things, you can’t hold onto forever. * "Iron & Bone" can be read as a STANDALONE novel * This is a contemporary motorcycle club romance meant for adults over 18 years of age. It contains profanity, violence, and graphic sex.**

The bad boy. The fuck up. The thief. That was me. Once a king, Now a wanderer. I’d thrown the best parts of me away, over and over again. I was reckless. Still am. I’d been exiled. Twice. I did my time. I’ve cleaned up. Well, sort of. I got plans. Yeah, good ones. Then I ran into her. A bolt of lightning Startling Unsettling Breathtaking Out of reach. The woman I once scorned years ago is now the woman I can’t live without. I need what I didn’t think I’d ever need again. I want and want and want. Torture. She’s the epicenter of the war I’ve triggered, of the battle in my rusted heart. I may be as reckless as I ever was, but I’m determined as fuck. To hell with it. I want it all.**

I am that gash in her soul. Once I loved Grace, really loved her. And she loved me, and it was so fucking beautiful. Once. That pendulum swings to and fro. We’re here, and then we’re— No. How can that rare beautiful be rendered irrelevant, intangible when I still feel so damn much? Does all that energy, that glory, that significance simply dissolve? Turn to smoke? To nothing? It can’t. It just can’t. Are the moments that shape us absolutely random? Is time not fluid? I made promises to them, to her. Especially to her. Promises I still burn to keep.