Outlaw's Vow:Grizzlies MC Romance

By: Nicole Snow

Description

I'M MARRYING AN OUTLAW AND I CAN'T FAKE IT...

ELLE JO

Forget the flowers and tender kisses. I'm marrying a man who took a bullet for me tomorrow, and I don't have a choice.

Did I say he's an outlaw? Asphalt has slayed more men on the road and taken more women between the sheets than I can ever count.

He's arrogant. Savage. So handsome and wild I should slap him for being this beautiful while he does every sin in the book. When he tells me I'm going to say I do, and mean it, I want to believe him.

Especially when he's the boy I left behind. All the insanity I tried to escape when I stopped being the sheltered club princess.

So, why the hell can't I keep my lips off his when he gives me that smirk and whispers filthy things in my ear?

ASPHALT

She thinks it's pretend, and club business is the only reason I'm slapping my brand on her skin. What a damned joke.

Elle got away from me years ago. Never again.

I'm putting her where she belongs the second I hear “kiss the bride.” Yeah, I told my brothers I'd go along with this sham marriage to save the Grizzlies MC. They don't know how bad I need her.

This isn't pretend anymore. The good girl act won't save her this time. I'm keeping my bride.

I can't forget the kiss that turned me into an obsessed lunatic. I'll own her on my bike, in my bed, wreck her for any other man, or I'll be dead.

Elle's always been mine. Don't care how much I suffer 'til she learns that's law...

The Outlaw Love books are stand alone romance novels featuring unique lovers and happy endings. No cliffhangers! This is Asphalt and Elle Jo's story in the Grizzlies MC series.





I: Love Interrupted (Elle Jo)


Four Years Earlier

The bastard had a heart of gold.

I called him “bastard” because he'd earned it. Austin Graham left Steen High when I was just a freshmen, but his legends lived on. He still lived down the street from me too, a big, mean-eyed, heavily tattooed young man who'd just hit twenty-one, always on his shiny new motorcycle, pulling into his beat up driveway with a keg or a bimbo on the back.

If I hadn't been born into the life, I would've hated him. Austin's teasing didn't help, whenever he actually noticed me.

Instead of getting mad, I got butterflies.

All over. They beat their wings through my bloodstream and flapped into my heart, sending that strange energy every girl discovers at this age straight between my legs.

Besides, I had another advantage for handling the boy next door. I didn't fear the bastard or swoon for him like everyone else because I'd already grown up with the roughest biker in Washington.

Nobody on a motorcycle put hell's terror into me like daddy.

Every single bastard in Tacoma paid Gil the respect he'd earned as President of this Grizzlies MC charter, including the kid down the street.

But he didn't grovel to my father like the other boys wearing the bear patch, even though he was only a prospect. Talk about interesting, as if I didn't spend enough time thinking about him with this stupid crush.

Some days, his teasing and lewd gestures exploded into the open. He sat across the street, smoking on his mom's porch, and then he'd look up at me, pierce my soul with those bright green eyes, and make a motion like he was shoving a banana into his cheek.

Blowjob, Ell-Bell, he'd mouth to me, before he got up and walked inside like it was the most natural thing in the world. He usually did it when daddy was in the garage too, just a few feet away from seeing the crude jokes that would've brought out his knife.

I should've learned to expect anything from the badass next door. I knew he was crazy, and he'd had a rough life with both his parents as screwed up as they were. Maybe something about that made a young man fearless, or else he'd just run out of fucks to give.

But then prom night came, and Austin showed some serious balls that left my jaw hanging open for the next four years of my life.

“Here we are, Elle Jo.” My date hadn't said anything since we'd left the dance. “Thanks for the awesome night.”

We'd just pulled into the driveway with Mike Wilkie, half an hour earlier than the curfew my dad set with his dead eyes and booming voice.

Mike was a good kid and a nice dancer. A handsome lacrosse player, his looks promised to set a few panties on fire in a once he went off to university and grew up a little more. Someday, he'd wind up with a good job, beautiful babies, and a lovely wife to take to dinner every Friday night.

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