K.L. Ramsey

Yonkers was running from his past—namely, the woman who still held his heart back in Huntsville. She was off limits, and he knew it, but there was nothing he could do to make himself stop wanting Wren.

The last thing Trixie Hammer needed just before the Christmas holiday was a stalker, but that's what Santa brought her this year. She worked with the guy, and he just didn't seem to want to take no for an answer.

Amelia Goodwell wasn't sure how she had ended up in the back of a truck full of other women, being taken in the middle of the night, but here she was. The last thing she remembered was dancing the night away with her best friend, Sandy, at their favorite little nightclub in town.

Sure, he was dressed as cupid, running around Huntsville, delivering singing telegrams, but it paid his rent and tuition. He was only one year out from graduating with his degree, and then, he'd get a job and start working toward his dream of opening his own bike shop.

Myles Legend was used to the guys in the Royal Bastards giving him crap about being the youngest in the club. He had just patched over from an RBMC chapter in California, and he had the whole beach bum vibe down pat.

Demon was itching to get his hands on Luna's sweet ass. Every time she talked back to him or dared to defy him, he wanted to put his hands all over her delicious curves, but he needed to remember that she was his buddy's little sister, and keeping her safe was his assignment.

Mason Zane had let himself get too close to pretty, little Dizzy Jean and when he stepped foot into the diner she worked at, he broke all the damn rules. Her father, who was also his boss at the FBI, hired him to keep an eye on her, but that was the extent of his mission.

His life was mayhem, but Brandon Jean planned on changing that. When he found out that the Ghosts had his FBI partner, he knew what he had to do. He'd need his club's help and the Royal Bastards would never let him down, and neither would his Prez—Savage.

Charley Montgomery knew that putting her hope in her father's "prize fighter" wasn't her best option, but it was her only one. Her father managed up-and-coming boxers and when JB Walker started losing fights, trouble landed on their doorstep.

Hawk was supposed to be dead, and if that was what everyone from his old team believed, that was fine by him. It was safer for all of them if they didn't find out that he was alive, but he couldn't stay away from her, especially at this time of year.

Having your old Army buddy call you and open with, "Hey—remember that favor you owe me for saving your ass? Well, I need to collect," wasn't a promising start to a conversation. When Ratchet's friend, Mason, called to say he needed his help, he was all in.

Marcos Diego was held against his will for over a year, and the only thing that kept him going were daily visits to his cell by Sister Valentina. She had come by the Camillo compound every day, offering him conversation, prayer, and even her shy smile when he told her a dirty joke.

I grew up on the wrong side of the tracks and being stuck with a name like Whiskey was never easy, but none of that ever mattered much to me. Not until I met her. The kids used to call me white trash—WT for short, but I turned that nasty nickname into my f--king mantra after I joined the Air Force.

As president of my MC, I've always had to hide a part of who I am. I was fine with that until he walked into my life. Now, I can't shove that half of myself into the dark anymore. My club won't understand and the woman I want definitely won't get it, but what choice do I have?