Burn My Hart

by Clare Connelly

  “Then what’s in it for me?” he joked.

  “Consider it a favor. She’s my best friend from high school. Awesome girl—funny, smart, a bit of an activist. Actually, I kind of owe her my life, since she’s the whole reason I moved to Moretta in the first place.”

  “You mean she lives there?”

  “No, she’s just...been there many times.” James thought her tone was slightly evasive. “Anyway, she’s had a rough go with her ex, and he’s going to be at the wedding. I convinced her that a little arm candy goes a long way in a situation like that. So, yeah—I’m fully using you. Just so you know.”

  James shook his head affectionately. Blind dates definitely weren’t his scene, but there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for his cousin. “Okay, but we’re talking a full week together here. What if she can’t stand me?”

  “That’s a distinct possibility—”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “—in which case you’re free to go your separate ways.”

  He hesitated. “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course. I’ll call you back in ten minutes.”

  “You’re cute. Later.”

  After James hung up, a quick glance at Jennifer told him she was now on a call herself, so he used his phone to pull up Laina Rose’s Facebook profile.

  Her photo was taken from a distance in front of a mountainous background. It looked like she was dressed for a hike, and from what he could tell she was attractive enough—not that it really mattered, as he wasn’t about to break his no-first-move word to Kiki anyway. He was about to turn his phone off again when he remembered his cousin’s vague remarks about Laina’s connection to the island. Curious, he pulled up Google and typed her name into the search engine.

  A few minutes later, he looked up from his phone with a grin on his face. It was almost too good to be true, but why shouldn’t he get something out of the deal too?

  He fired a text to Kiki: I’m in.

  Copyright © 2020 by Cea Sunrise Person

  New York Times bestselling author Chantal Fernando returns to the Knights of Fury series with her most complicated hero yet. He may be the epitome of cool, but this MC president isn’t called Temper for nothing...

  Temper

  by Chantal Fernando

  Prologue

  Five Years Ago

  “Can I have a whiskey, please?” the brown-eyed behemoth of a man asks, studying me with a little too much intensity for my liking. He’s wearing a black cut over more black clothing, and he smells good, like leather with a hint of cologne. “You have pretty eyes.”

  “Thank you,” I reply, ducking my head. My eyes were always a source of insecurity for me growing up, with them being quite bright and amber in color. To say I was teased about them was an understatement. At school they used to call me a cat and say I was possessed. I don’t care what people think about me anymore, a confidence I think comes with age, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t get embarrassed when someone says something about them.

  “What’s your name?” he asks, never moving his eyes from me.

  “Abbie.”

  “I’m Temper,” he says, then clears his throat. “I mean, Tommy.”

  “How many people call you Tommy?” I find myself asking, trying to hide my smile. I’ve heard all of the bikers that pass through use road names for each other. I don’t know how many of them actually go by their real names, but it’s nice that he offered it to me. I can only imagine why they call him Temper, and if that isn’t warning to stay away from this man, I don’t know what is.

  “Uhh.” He tilts his head back, actually considering the answer to my question. “None.”

  I laugh softly and slide him his drink. “Okay, Temper it is.”

  Suddenly feeling shy, I start to wipe down the counter while his friend returns from the bathroom and sits down next to him. “You didn’t order me a drink?” he asks Temper, unimpressed.

  “Sorry, Prez, got a little distracted,” Temper replies, sounding amused.

  Prez looks at me. “Hey, sweetheart, could I get a beer, please?”

  “Sure,” I say, grabbing the first bottle I can reach from the fridge. “Is this one okay?”

  He nods. “Perfect.”

  Setting the beer in front of him, he throws some money on the table and smiles. “Thank you.”

  My mother always warned me about the bikers passing through the bar, and while I have had bad vibes from other bikers in the past, I don’t get any from these two. But what do I know? I’m twenty-three and have never even left Nevada. I’m the stereotypical small-town girl, something I always thought I’d never end up being. Our bar is off the major interstate that is one of the only ways to get to Vegas from Southern California and vice versa. Because of our location, we see just about every type of person—truckers, families, young people and bikers.

  “What time do you finish work?” Temper asks me as he stands to leave. “Can I take you out for dinner? Or coffee, or something?”

  I shake my head, taken aback by his request. “No, I don’t think so. But thank you for asking me.”

  He’s older than me; I know that much. If I had to guess, I would say he’s in his midthirties, which is maybe why I’m so surprised by the fact that he asked me out. If I’m being honest, while I am attracted to him, the age difference freaks me out a bit. I’ve been stuck here pretty much my whole life—I wouldn’t know what to talk to him about. I’d probably bore him to death. Also, I’m flattered, but I don’t think going out with a man by the name of Temper would be a good idea.

  “Okay.” He nods, brown eyes flashing with disappointment before he masks it. “Have a good night, Abbie.”

  “You too, Temper,” I respond, our gazes holding and lingering for longer than necessary.

  Flashing him a smile, I head back into the kitchen to hide, pushing away a slither of regret that hits me out of nowhere. Yeah, he’s good looking, but so what? There’s plenty of good-looking men out there.

  I’ve never been on a proper date before, and my first one isn’t going to be with a man like that.

  Chapter One

  Present Day

  “That man keeps staring at you,” Sierra says under her breath, eyes on the cash register. “He’s kind of sexy, in an ‘I don’t know if I’m going to give you the best orgasm of your life or kill you in your sleep’ kind of way.”

  I don’t bother looking up, because I already know exactly who she’s talking about. Temper, President of the Knights of Fury MC, has been coming into our family-owned bar, Franks, for several years now. He’s not a regular—in fact, the MC only passes through maybe once or twice a year—but he’s not someone that’s easily forgotten.

  The last time he was here, he told me that he was now the president because his Prez had died, and he practically cried as he said it. When he asked me out, like he always does each time he is here, I almost caved.

  Almost.

  “Abbie,” Sierra growls. “Pay attention, he’s coming over here.”

  I glance up just as he stands in front of the bar. “Abbie,” he says with a nod, smiling. “How have you been?”

  “Not too bad,” I reply, taking in those brown eyes and shaved head. I’m not quite being honest. With my mom’s declining health, I’ve had to take over Franks, and had to drop out of college to do so. I spend every day here or at home, helping her as much as I can. My younger sister, Ivy, helps too, but I insisted she stay in college, so she can’t always be here.

  One of us had to make a sacrifice, and I volunteered. She can still become something, get out of this small highway town and follow her dreams.

  “Really? It’s been about eight months since I’ve seen you, and that’s all you have to say?” he asks, brow furrowing.

  I wish I had something exciting to say, like maybe tell him about a vacation I w
ent on, or a competition I won, anything really, but I have nothing.

  “Just work,” I explain, smiling sadly. “Mom’s not well, so I’ve had to take over with running the place.”

  He nods, understanding reaching his eyes. “I see. So you and Ivy work here full time now? What about school?”

  “I’ve had to put that on hold,” I admit, and it hurts to do so. I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer, ever since I can remember, but now it looks like my life is going to be spent serving drinks. When I brought up the idea of selling the place to Mom, you would have thought I had asked her for a million dollars. Franks has been in our family for decades, and it’s more than just a bar to her, it’s our family legacy. “Hopefully next year or so I can go back.”

  Temper’s lips tighten. “I know how important that is to you.”

  He’s killing me. I can’t believe he remembers. Last time he was here, in addition to him opening up to me about Prez, I had told him just how much I was loving my courses. He commented on my excitement over it, telling me it was cute, and he could see just how passionate I was about school. And now here I am, months later, admitting to him how I’ve basically dropped out to work full time.

  “Whiskey?” I ask, changing the subject. The last thing I want to discuss with him is how my life is no longer going according to plan, and I’m here because I need to be. Mom didn’t want me to drop out either, but there was no other option, and now I’m stuck.

  I always do this. I’m the first to want to help, the first to volunteer myself up, and you know what they say—no good deed goes unpunished. I’m learning how true that is firsthand. It’s not like my mom is helping the situation either; she’s milking it by just lying around the house feeling sorry for herself. And yesterday she didn’t even go to her doctor’s appointment. She seems depressed, and it’s almost like the roles have reversed and I’m now the parent, and it’s a whole lot of stress for me. I wish she would take her health seriously—she did have a stroke—and be responsible. Her doctors have said she will make a full recovery so long as she puts in the work. It’s hard running Franks and constantly worrying about her as well.

  I’m going to go gray soon, I can feel it.

  He nods, and I take the opportunity to distract myself. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him, and he looks good. It’s like the man doesn’t age. He’s tall, strong, and kind of mean looking, but he’s been nothing but nice and respectful toward me. We kind of have a routine going every time we see each other. We chat, we flirt, he asks if he can buy me dinner, and I say no. He accepts that and leaves, until next time.

  I don’t know why I always say no anymore. The first time was a combination of him being a biker and feeling so much older than me. But the age thing doesn’t bother me that much anymore. Truth is I’ve never said yes, to any man, to any date. I get asked out by people coming into the bar, but you don’t have to be experienced to know what they are really looking for, and it’s not a loving, long-lasting relationship. My experience is severely lacking, aside from prom and the mistake I made after it, and there’s no saving me now. I’m going to be a spinster. Hopefully Ivy will give me some nieces and nephews I can claim as my own.

  Temper places money on the table, with a huge tip, like he always does. “Seriously? Who tips that much?”

  His lip twitches. “You can take yourself out to a nice dinner with it, since I know you’re never going to let me take you out.”

  “You giving up that easily?” I tease, giving him a flirtatious smile. I don’t know where this sudden boldness is coming from, other than the fact that I don’t want him to stop asking me out, and I’ve only just realized this.

  I’ve never met another man like Temper, and I don’t think I ever will. I see how people treat him, avoid him, and make sure not to challenge him. Hell, my own mother warned me to be friendly with him, but never too friendly. He has this air of menace about him, but over the years I’ve also seen how he treats his MC brothers like family, and he’s always respectful, even to the people who work here. I’ve seen him vulnerable when he talked about his Prez... Hammer was his name, I think. He’s never rude, or arrogant—to me, anyway—and he’s always generous and polite. When he speaks to me, he always uses a humble, gentle tone, one that I’ve come to enjoy listening to. I know there is another side to him, and I can’t help but want to get to know that more.

  “It only took a few years of rejection,” he jokes, lifting the whiskey glass to his lips. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him make a joke before.

  “Maybe this was the year I was going to say yes,” I reply, clearing my throat. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I have the feeling like if I truly do want to take a chance and go on this date, it’s now or never. I’m stuck here, in the same job, doing the same thing every damn day, and I deserve to have a little fun and do something reckless for once in my life. I’ve always been the good girl, the trusted daughter, and the responsible older sister, taking care of my family as much as I can, since my dad has never been around. I know his name, Cohen Pierce, and that he lives in California somewhere. But he wanted, and still wants, nothing to do with me, and that’s fine. I’ve accepted that.

  But what have I ever done for me? Other than college, which I had to drop out of anyway, I can’t think of one single thing.

  Temper lowers his glass and studies me, brown eyes filled with surprise and suspicion. “You want to go on a date with me? Why now?”

  Shrugging, I lower my eyes to the counter before returning them to him. “Time for me to live a little.”

  Being safe hasn’t gotten me anywhere in life.

  Now that I’ve opened my mouth and said this, Temper looks like he doesn’t know what to do. In fact, he looks slightly concerned. “You want to live a little, so you have decided to take me up on the date I’ve been dreaming about for the last...how many years exactly?”

  “Five, I believe,” I mutter, and clear my throat once more. “Yes, pretty much, unless you’ve changed your mind now?”

  He smirks. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I don’t think I’ve ever asked anyone out more than once in my life.” He pauses, and then adds, “Actually I can’t even remember the last time I asked anyone out, other than you.”

  That can’t be right.

  We see each other twice a year at the most, and he’s sexy as hell, powerful, and I’m sure he has women throwing themselves at him. And as for me being the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on...

  I don’t think I’m anything special.

  I mean, I know I’m not completely unfortunate in the looks department. I have long dark hair, and a curvy body that most people would consider to be plus sized, and along with my amber eyes and heart-shaped lips, I do okay. Yet I don’t think I ever expected to encounter such a compliment.

  “I don’t know how any of that can be true,” I say, shaking my head. “But you can explain it all over dinner. I finish here at seven.”

  “Seven it is.” He nods, flashing me a grin. “I’ll be here early in case you decide to change your mind.”

  “I won’t,” I declare, moving to serve a new customer that walks in.

  I don’t know how today took this turn of events, but for the first time in a long time, I’m excited.

  Don’t miss Temper by New York Times bestselling author Chantal Fernando, available now wherever Carina Press books are sold.

  www.CarinaPress.com

  Copyright © 2020 by Chantal Fernando

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  ISBN: 9781488062094

  Burn My Hart

  Copyright © 2020 by Clare Connelly

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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