Strike

Fast. That’s how I like life, especially my two great joys: bikes and women. I’m committed to exclusively riding one, but not the other. Until April. A sexy-arse freelance photographer who’s travelled the world, and doesn’t do long walks on the beach or romantic candlelit dinners. She enjoys running with the bulls and food spicy enough to make your hair fall out. If that weren’t enough to get me hard, she rides a mean mother of a motorcycle. I’ve gotta have a taste of this wildcat. ~Spencer (Jones) I don’t do fast. Not anymore. I’ve got my career, my independence, and since I fled Spain to come back home I promised myself that I wouldn’t be put second—or third, for that matter—again. Then I meet pretty boy Spencer. He’s smooth, oozing the most potent pheromones probably known to modern science, and he’s making a move on me. One kiss was almost enough for my promise to dissolve. My head says no—my treacherous body screams yes. I’m gonna make Spencer work for it. Make him fight for the chance to have me, because I know that deep down I’m worth it. ~April MacIntyre