Reaper’s Fall is the newest standalone in the Reaper's MC
Series. Painter & Melanie's story is
FINALLY here!
Available at the following retailers:
Blurb
The New York Times
bestselling author of Reaper’s Stand
is back in her “uber-alpha rough world of MCs”* as one woman’s future is rocked
by the man whose hardcore past could destroy her…
He never meant to hurt her.
Levi
“Painter” Brooks was nothing before he joined the Reapers motorcycle club. The
day he patched in, they became his brothers and his life. All they asked in
return was a strong arm and unconditional loyalty—a loyalty that’s tested when
he’s caught and sentenced to prison for a crime committed on their behalf.
Melanie
Tucker may have had a rough start, but along the way she’s learned to fight for
her future. She’s escaped from hell and started a new life, yet every night she
dreams of a biker whose touch she can’t forget. It all started out so
innocently—just a series of letters to a lonely man in prison. Friendly.
Harmless. Safe.
Now
Painter Brooks is coming home… and Melanie’s about to learn that there’s no
room for innocence in the Reapers MC.
Excerpt #1 (New to tour)
“You want
to watch a movie or something?” she asked, nodding toward the TV. I had a
decent one, too. Giant-ass flat-screen—homecoming present from the club.
“Sure,” I
said, reaching for the remote. I didn’t have cable, but Ruger had set up some
kind of box thingie for me so I could stream shit. “Whatcha in the mood for?”
“Not
horror,” she said quickly, and I laughed again, remembering that first evening
I’d spent with her at Pic’s house. She’d been so young and scared and
vulnerable . . . I’d wanted to eat her up.
I still
wanted to eat her.
“I can’t
believe that you and Puck were supposed to be watching over me, and then you
put in a slasher movie. That’s not how you make a girl feel safe.”
“No
horror,” I agreed, although the thought of holding her for a couple hours while
she was scared shitless appealed way more than it should. Watch it, asshole.
“How about Star Wars?”
“You like
Star Wars?”
I
shrugged. “Everyone likes Star Wars. You know, I’m pretty damned sure Han Solo
was a biker.”
She
giggled. “You mean, like a space biker?”
“See,
when you say it like that it sounds stupid.”
“I wanted
to be Princess Leia. She’s badass,” she said, taking a deep drink of her beer.
I watched as her lips wrapped around the neck, her throat swallowing. Oh fuck,
that was good. She set the beer down on the coffee table with a clink, then let
loose with the biggest burp I’d ever heard.
“Fucking
hell,” I said, stunned. “I didn’t think girls could burp like that. Shit.
Impressive, Mel. Very impressive.”
She
grinned at me.
“We’re
friends,” she told me. “And friends don’t need to worry about stuff like that.
Let me guess—you’ve never had a female friend before?”
“Not
really,” I admitted. “I’m think I’m a little scared.”
Scared
and turned on, which was weird.
“You
should be. I can do the whole alphabet.”
Damn. I
kinda wanted to see that.
**PLEASE POST ONE
EXCERPT/DAY**
Excerpt 2 & 3 were previously released in Excerpt
Reveal
Excerpt #2
Mel,
You know, I write these fuckin’ letters to you, but
they’re fake. I ask about your friends and your school and whether you’re
meeting people. It’s bullshit, Mel.
Here’s my reality.
Yesterday I stabbed someone before he could stab me. Puck
and I sold some shit to a bunch of white supremacists and we turned around and
sold the same damned thing to some Mexicans. We had pudding with our dinner for
dessert.
Then I jacked off three times thinking about you.
Those
are the highlights. Like a fairy tale, right? Remembering you keeps me going,
which makes no fucking sense at all. I hardly touched you. I still think about
what you smelled like when you sat next to me on the couch, though. You were
just this little thing and you shivered under my arm. I know you were scared of
the movie and I could’ve picked something else, but I wanted the excuse to hold
you.
That’s when I started thinking seriously about us fucking.
I had this vision of shoving you into the cushions face-
first, then ripping down your jeans and pushing so deep you’d feel it in the
back of your throat. That’s the kind of guy I am, Mel, and that’s why you
should stay the fuck away from me.
You give me the chance, I’ll pin you down and keep pumping
no matter how hard you try to get away. I dream about it every night, I jerk
off to it, and today I gave serious thought to killing a man because he has the
same fantasies about you as me. That first night, I promised London I wouldn’t touch
you, but my cock had already been hard for hours. Good thing she showed up when
she did—saved your ass. How’s that for luck?
When I took you to dinner, I was going to be good. Tried
to be good. I know you didn’t understand why I asked you out or what it meant.
They needed you out of the way, Mel. That was my job—to keep you busy. And I
promised London I wouldn’t pull shit on you but she’d been lying to us all
along and I kept wondering if that meant my promise didn’t count anymore.
Pretty damned sure it hasn’t counted for a while now.
You were talking and smiling and blushing. My dick was so
stiff it nearly snapped in half when I tried to stand up. Took everything I had
not to throw you on my bike and ride off with you . . . I want to tie you up
and come in your ass and shove my cock down your throat until you choke. I want
your hair in little-girl pigtails so I can hold on tight while I fuck your
face. I want you to cry and scream and give me everything. I want to fucking
OWN you. How’s that for reality, Mel? You still want my advice about boys?
I’m coming home soon. You should run away while you still
can, Mel. I’ll make you dirty, so dirty you’ll never be clean again. I’ll make
you pay me back the hard way. You think you’re all grown up, but you’re not.
There’s so much I could teach you . . . do to you. Jesus, if you only knew,
you’d never write to me again.
You should move to Alaska.
Change your name.
Good luck,
though, because I’ll find you and take you and—
Fucking
hell.
I dropped
my pencil, wondering why I’d thought this was a good idea. I wasn’t going to
send it, of course. I’d send her some friendly little note and tell her she
should be dating and having fun. But some part of me thought writing my real
thoughts out might fix my obsession. Instead my dick was like a rock. Again.
Still.
Always.
Excerpt #3
“You’re not going back to the party.”
She cocked her head, and I saw the confusion in her
alcohol- glazed eyes as she wrinkled her nose at me. All cute, like a rabbit.
“You look like a bunny.”
“You look like an ax murder,” she said, frowning. “And I
thought London was looking for me. Aren’t we going the wrong way?”
“I lied. I do that a lot,” I told her, staring at her
lips. I reached out, catching her chin in my hand, running my thumb across her
lips. Our eyes locked, and I don’t know if her pulse started to rise but mine
sure as fuck did. What the hell had I been thinking, writing to this girl? She
was so pretty and perfect and had this amazing, magical life just waiting for
her and all I could think about was dragging her down into the dirt and shoving
my cock into every hole she had.
She’d scream while I did it, too, the same sweet screams
that played in my head every night while I jacked off.
I hated myself.
“Why did you lie?” she asked, her voice a whisper.
“To get you away from Taz. It’s not safe with him.”
Mel’s forehead creased in confusion, her brain moving so
slowly I could practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes. She might be
smart as fuck most of the time, but she’d transitioned to drunker than fuck
tonight. Kit. Kit and Em. They’d done this to her.
I leaned in closer, catching her scent. For an instant I
swayed, so tempted . . .
“They told me all about you,” she whispered.
“Who?”
“The other girls. Kit, Em. Jessica. I know how you
operate,” she continued. One of her hands rose, touching my chest. Fire burst
through me, because if I’d wanted her before I was desperate for her now. She
was so soft, so sweet . . . so perfect.
Then her words sank in.
“What did you just say?”
“They told me all about you,” she said, eyes dropping to
stare at my lips. “They told me you have a Madonna-whore complex.”
I froze.
“A what?”
“A Madonna-whore
complex,” she repeated, her voice earnest. “You like to screw dirty girls and
you put clean girls on pedestals, where they can stay perfect and pure. That’s
pretty messed up, Painter. There’s no such thing as Madonnas and whores. We’re
all just people.”
The words stunned me. What the hell was she talking about?
Just because I didn’t want her dragged down in the drama and bullshit of this
life didn’t mean I had some sort of fucking complex. And who the hell were the
Hayes sisters to have an opinion? I couldn’t tell what pissed me off more—the
fact that they’d talked to Mel about me or that they hadn’t done a better job
of scaring her off.
She wasn’t supposed to be
here.
“Kit and Em are crazy, and that friend of yours—Jessica?
She’s like a car crash. You don’t belong here, Mel.”
“And where do I belong?”
“With some nice kid who’ll treat you like a queen and work
his ass off to give you everything perfect for the rest of your life.” The
words were practically a growl.
Her eyes widened.
“What if I don’t want perfect?”
“Too fucking bad, because that’s what you’re getting.”
**Additional teasers
attached to email**
About the Author:
Joanna Wylde
is a New York Times bestselling author and creator of the Reapers Motorcycle
Club series. She currently lives in Idaho.
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