As they pulled away, Maggie’s face turned to look down the hallway towards her room. Under the bed, she could see the shadow of the suitcase she had already half-packed. She stared at it as she listened to the bikes disappear into the night.
Chapter 1
5 Years Later
Just breathe. Deep breath, girl. You’re not about to walk into a gunfight.
Her own advice was useless. As soon as her SUV passed by the sunny yellow sign welcoming her into the town of LeBeau, Maggie felt her heart begin to pound in her chest like an angry drum line. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and tried to focus on the road. It was a beautiful spring day and despite the town’s small population, the streets bustled with activity. She wondered if it had been a particularly terrible winter. The folks seemed eager to be out in the sun and warmth. She didn’t feel the same. She wanted nothing more than to find a cold, dark cave to crawl into and never come out.
It had been over five years since she’d been back in her hometown. Five years, and yet hardly anything looked different. Cleaner, maybe; there was a sparkle to the place she didn’t remember from before. But maybe that was just nostalgia shining up the ugly parts of her memory… of which there were plenty. She noticed a new-fangled, big box supermarket chain on Vine Street and wondered how hard her father had fought to keep that monstrosity out of town. Wasn’t hard enough, apparently. The parking lot was bustling with shoppers who seemed to be enjoying it well enough. She thought she saw an old friend from high school, Misty Walters, loading up groceries into a minivan stuffed with three screaming kids. She couldn’t help but snicker at that, and it made her mood just a little bit lighter.
Lighter, that is, until she pulled up to a stoplight right next to four men on motorcycles, wearing the black leather cuts of her father’s club, the Black Dogs. She stole what glances she dared from behind her sunglasses, to see if she recognized any of them. Or worse—to see if any of them recognized her. The SUV was new, but Maggie didn’t feel like she looked that much different than she had years ago. As the light seemed to linger on into eternity, she finally turned nonchalantly to examine the men. One of them met her gaze. He smiled approvingly and nodded his head, but it wasn’t a smile that said he actually recognized her. The other three couldn’t have cared less, staring straight ahead as their bikes rumbled like wild dogs beneath them. Maggie didn’t recognize them, either, and the tightness in her chest loosened just a little bit. The light changed, and the four roared off down Main Street without a second glance at her.
Maggie followed Main Street until she arrived at her destination. Dot’s Diner was one spot in LeBeau that had never, and would never change. She could still hear Dot’s strong, smoke-stained voice in her head: I would gladly watch this town burn down around my ears before that! She had been one of the originals to set up shop in LeBeau, just like Maggie’s father. The old guard that tried their damnedest to keep things the way they had always been. When she was a teenager, Maggie had loved Dot, but had thought her foolish in her steadfast stubbornness. Now, though… now Maggie wondered if the old lady hadn’t been on to something all along. Change brought pain and darkness and turmoil. Change was trouble.
The diner was more packed than the supermarket had been, just like Maggie remembered. Even at the latest hours, there never seemed to be a shortage of customers waiting for a warm piece of pie and a cup of coffee. And, just like Maggie remembered, a good chunk of the parking lot gleamed with chrome motorcycles, all lined up in a pretty row like they were contestants in a beauty pageant waiting to be judged. The MC practically lived at Dot’s—at least when they weren’t at the clubhouse. As she waited to turn in, Maggie noticed the four bikers from the stoplight walking into the diner, clapping each other on the shoulders and laughing at something.
Are you sure you wanna do this? A little scared voice in the back of her mind asked.
What else am I supposed to do? Maggie answered herself. I need them. I have no choice.
She could have gone straight to the clubhouse, she knew. But she was too cowardly for it. After all these years trying to prove to herself that she was half as tough as her father, in the end, she simply wasn’t sure that she was. She couldn’t even face him, not yet. She wasn’t ready. The thought of walking into that clubhouse and seeing the stern grey eyes of Henry Oliver looking down at her from his redwood throne filled her with a dread so strong, it made her want to swerve back for the highway and leave this place forever.
And then there was the thought of facing Jase.
A honking horn behind her broke the hypnotics of her inner dialogue, and Maggie shook her head to clear her thoughts as she took a careful turn into the diner’s parking lot. She parked her SUV and killed the engine. It took her a solid two minutes to get the guts to push the door open and step out of the car. When she felt her hands itching for a cigarette, she knew then that her coward’s heart was stalling, and would stall forever unless she did something about it.
“C’mon, you bitch,” she said to herself in an angry, hissing voice. “Are you an Oliver, or aren’t you?” Hearing her family name out loud sent strength through her blood, and she put herself on a forced march to the diner’s front door before she lost the momentum of her bravery— such as it was.
She walked into Dot’s Diner and was immediately hit with the full weight of homesickness and nostalgia that had been building the whole drive home. She saw the Wilsons in their corner booth, the same damn spot they had been sitting in at Dot’s for longer than Maggie had been alive. Some of the waitresses were certainly new, yet there was a vague familiarity to some of them, as if she remembered them as schoolchildren. The friendly bellowing laugh of Roy the cook sailed out from the kitchen. The diner was alive with sensory input: the clinking of silverware, the din of conversation and laughter, the sizzle of cooking food, the smell of coffee and bacon and hash. It was busy enough that no one immediately paid her any mind as she stood in the front foyer. Finally one of the waitresses saw her and headed over with a big genuine smile.
“Hi there, hon!” she said. “How many’ll it be?”
Maggie was caught a little off guard. She wasn’t there for the food. “Oh, I, uh…”
“You can sit at the bar if you like, sugar.” The waitress handed her a floppy plastic menu.
“I’m not here to…”
“Lord, is that Maggie Oliver?”
Celeste, one of the diner’s oldest and most experience waitresses, peered from behind the giant glass case that twirled the pies and cakes around like they were showgirls to be ogled at. She came around with her arms opened wide and sunshine in her eyes. So much for doing this my way, thought Maggie to herself.
“Maggie, oh my Lord! I can’t believe it’s you!” said Celeste as she wrapped Maggie in a strangling but loving hug. Her uniform smelled like cigarette smoke, burnt coffee, and the lingering scent of the same cheap perfume her husband bought for her every year for their anniversary. Celeste always loved it.
Maggie was surprised to feel her tension and worry melt almost completely away for that moment she was wrapped in Celeste’s arms. She hugged her back and felt tears pooling up in her eyes. For that brief moment, it was like she had never left LeBeau.
“Honey, you look so beautiful!” said Celeste as she pulled away from Maggie to give her a once-over. “Look at you… you’re grown up into a proper lady. I can’t believe my eyes.”
Maggie smiled, and felt a tiny tear run down her cheek. “Hi Celeste. Boy, I didn’t realize how much I missed you.”
“I missed you too, sweet girl. We’ve all missed you. It’s been too long. Your pa hasn’t come into the diner yet today. Have you already seen him?”
Mention of her father made Maggie’s tension resurface in her muscles, and she gave Celeste a tight smile. “No, not yet. Actually, I was stopping by to…” Something in the air made Maggie stop. She turned and looked out into the large dining room to her right. The place was filled with black leather cuts, the gathered
members of the Black Dogs from several nearby towns in for a lunchtime break, laughing and drinking coffee. In the midst of them, one had stood up and was staring at her from across the room.
It was Will Bowers. He didn’t look a day older than when she had left. Always a handsome man with boyish features, now he had supplemented them with a gruff chin-stubble and mustache the color of rust, same color as his soft curly hair.
Will was never an emotional guy. It was only those who knew him well who knew how to read him, and right now Maggie was reading an entire novel’s-worth of emotion on his seemingly expressionless face. It was all in those deep brown eyes which stared at her, unblinking.
Maggie slipped out of Celeste’s grasp and maneuvered around the chairs and tables into the dining room. She gave the waitress’s shoulder a tender squeeze as she did so, and Celeste didn’t interrupt or protest. The old woman was wise enough to know what was happening.
Will moved to meet her halfway. Maggie’s nerves began to sing a warning song, unsure how he would react. She did not want to begin this new and terrifying chapter in her life by being publicly humiliated in this place.
But when he finally got in front of her, Will just smiled his gentle, lopsided smile. “Maggie,” he said, quiet as always. “I can’t believe it’s you.” His eyes were searching her face, looking her up and down, as if he was trying to dedicate every detail of this moment to memory.
“Hi Will,” said Maggie, giving him a small and shaking smile. She licked her lips, ready to launch into the speech she had been planning and rehearsing, over and over, just for the moment she would inevitably run into one of the boys from the MC. But before she could, Will wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. At first Maggie only tensed up in surprise, but then she melted into it and hugged him back even tighter.
When they pulled away from it, Maggie realized the entire group of Black Dogs had stopped whatever they were doing to watch the reunion. She didn’t recognize any of them, and doubted they knew who she was. They were simply shocked by Will’s public display of affection. Will didn’t seem to notice or care.
“What are you doing here?” Will asked, though it was more gentle than accusatory.
Maggie blinked a few times and tried to gather her thoughts. The entire rehearsed speech had flown from her mind. “I, uh… I decided it was time to come home.” She finished with another tight smile, “Things didn’t work out in Eagleton like I had planned.”
“Henry didn’t say a word about you coming back,” said Will. “I thought you two were still on the outs.” The expression on her face must have answered his curiosity, because Will made a little “oh” noise and nodded almost imperceptibly.
Maggie lowered her voice, insecure of being overheard by these MC boys she didn’t know. “I haven’t talked to Henry yet. He doesn’t know I’m back.”
Will was thoughtful and quiet for a moment. The Black Dogs began to grow bored watching the conversation and started going back to their own. “You know, there’s still an unofficial APB from the club out on you. Dogs aren’t supposed to engage with you, just report back to him any word of your location.”
Maggie swallowed against a tight throat and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like the old man. Controlling enough to supervise, but too proud to do it himself.”
Will’s half-smile returned for just a moment. Then he grew serious and locked eyes with her. “I don’t want to make anything harder for you, Maggie. But you know I have to report this to him. I don’t know what you have planned for this homecoming… I’m going to guess it didn’t involve Henry and Beck kicking down your apartment door before you even got settled into town.”
“No, no it did not,” said Maggie with a sigh.
“You’ve always been smart. I’m sure you have a plan. If you want to get it going, you need to do it now. Henry should be at the clubhouse. You should go talk to him now, while you still have the element of surprise.” Will looked around at the members in the diner. “I outrank all these goons in here, so I can keep them quiet. But I can only give you until sundown to make your move. Then I have to tell Henry myself.” He blinked a few times and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“I understand,” said Maggie immediately, stiffening her back and taking a deep breath. “I came here half-hoping he was here to get it over with, anyway.”
Will smiled again. “Henry would never blow his top in Dot’s. Smart girl.”
“Not smart enough, apparently,” said Maggie more to herself than to Will.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You’ll be fine. You’re his daughter. No matter what he says to you, he’s glad to see you.”
Maggie returned the smile. “Thanks Will. I’m glad I found you first.”
“I’m glad to have you back,” he said.
Maggie gave him one last small hug and turned to head out of the dining room. Before she could, Will grabbed her arm and turned her back.
“One last thing,” he said, and now his eyebrow was raised, his brown eyes filled with genuine worry. “Jase will probably be there.”
Hearing his name again made a shiver run through Maggie’s bones. Her heart skipped. She felt the blood drain from her face. She couldn’t find the words to reply to Will, so she simply nodded and squeezed his hand one last time before she walked off to face her fate.
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Excerpt - PRIDE
The final excerpt is from PRIDE, the first book of my 3 book series, The Brody Bunch. If you’ve never read any of the Brody’s, this is the place to start and although the series is best read together, each book is meant to also stand-alone.
I’m also excited that the entire series is available on audiobook.
Following this excerpt will be a number of full bonus novels.
Chapter 1
Reid
Waiting around was not my strong suit. Not for anybody, but least of all for Ash. You were supposed to be patient with family, give them a wide berth and unlimited second chances, but I didn’t give a fuck about virtues. Not back then, anyway. Back then, I was all about sin.
And my favorite was pride.
Maybe it’s ‘cause I’m the middle child, but I have what you might call a type-A personality. I can’t sit still. I’m always on the move. Like that Talladega Nights shit—“I wanna go fast.” And I do. I wanna go fast and hard and rough and show the world there’s nothin’ I can’t do. I am the best. I have to be. My ego demands nothing less.
Oh, you think that sounds bad now? Wait until you hear the rest of the story.
So there I was, sitting at a table at Trick Shots—a shitty dive I wouldn’t normally have agreed to even be seen at, were it not for my older brother’s low standards—waiting on his ass to show up while Wyatt slouched next to me, fucking around on his phone. It’s true—younger generations make for absolutely shit company, and Wyatt was no exception. Not that he was much better when he opened his mouth.
As the minutes ticked by, I was devolving from annoyed to pissed, bordering on furious. I had better places to be, and better people to be seen there with. Yet here I was, suckered into some kind of “family meeting” on a Friday night, instead of dusting some college-kid jackoff at the drag racing track clear across town.
My fingers itched to be curled around a gear shift. My arms ached with the desire to steer my suped-up ’69 Shelby around one of the track’s tight, luscious curves. So maybe racing classics wasn’t as turbo-fueled as racing some of the newer models—but for me, it wasn’t about speed. Not entirely, anyway. I was way more interested in the thrill of the chase, in the challenge.
Me and Ash, the eldest, noticeably absent member of our brotherly trio, had something in common there. Only it wasn’t the roar of the crowd or some kind of prize he was after. When Ash imagined luscious curves, they didn’t belong to a stretch of road—they were all woman. Which was probably why he was late. That dirty man-whore was probably banging some hot piece
of ass and had forgotten all about us.
“Fucking Christ,” I muttered, as I finished up my third beer. “Wish he’d just zip up his pants and get the fuck over here already, huh?”
“Uh-huh,” Wyatt murmured in reply. He’d finally looked up from his phone, but not to join the conversation. He was thoroughly engrossed in the MMA fight on TV. The bartender had just turned the channel.
“So glad we took the time to have this little heart-to-heart,” I said, as I ordered another round. Wyatt didn’t even dignify that with a response; I’d have been better off talking to thin air.
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