Chelsea Camaron – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Chelsea Camaron – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:01:19 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Chelsea Camaron – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Property of Mellow (Kings of Anarchy Alabama #3) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/property-of-mellow-kings-of-anarchy-alabama-3-read-online-chelsea-camaron Thu, 23 Apr 2026 23:01:19 +0000 https://www.books2020.com/property-of-mellow-kings-of-anarchy-alabama-3-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Kings of Anarchy Alabama Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 61723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 309(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)

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Nothing above the Kings, especially not a single mom pinned down by a drunk man in a bar.
Anarchy reigns.
Smoke a little smoke, drink a little drink, and live life one ride to the next.
Freedom Falls, Alabama is either the safest place to live or the most dangerous, depending on one’s view of the Kings of Anarchy MC.

Tucker “Mellow” Bostic is a hot-headed, alpha male who doesn’t back down from a challenge. He’s traveled the world finally calling the gulf coast home. Life for him is all things Kings and anarchy reigns supreme.

Lucy Coe is a single mom trying to pick up the pieces of her shattered heart. A call from her ex lands her in a bar cornered by a stranger and frozen in fear. That is how she meets a man who is anything but mellow regardless if that is what everyone keeps calling him.

She never expected this one meeting would change her life forever. With her world covered in chaos, she finds calm in the arms of the VP of the Kings of Anarchy MC and Mellow finds a woman who manages to tame the beast inside him.

*Each book in the Kings of Anarchy Alabama series is a full-length romance novel. This is a series of interconnected stand-alone books inside the Kings of Anarchy shared world. See the Kings of Anarchy site for a full list of participating authors. This book is not meant to be an exact depiction of life in a motorcycle club but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

KINGS OF ANARCHY MC: FREEDOM FALLS, ALABAMA

President – Damian “Chux” Masters

Vice President – Tucker “Mellow” Bostic

Secretary – Juan Carlos “Gainz” Rivera

Treasurer – Nathan “Grit” Rockwell

Sergeant at Arms – Derek “Shaft” Minor

Road Captain – Aidyn “Stunt” Williams

Enforcer – River “Looney” Jones

Tail Gunner – Ledger “Riot” Masters

Chaplain – Paul “Saged” Steiner

Additional members – Zane “Nitro” Fletcher

Chase “Fresh” Davis

Jackson “Dodge” Stillwater

Gage “Dice” Wilson

Prospects – AKA Dipshits

Nero Oliver

Dawson Blue

Ace Prescott

ONE

LUCY

I shouldn’t be here. The thought runs through my head for the hundredth time as I push open the heavy wooden door of Black Rose Tavern and step inside. The smell hits me first—beer, overpowering perfume mixed with cologne, and something fried in old oil. It’s loud, too. Music humming through old speakers, the clack of pool balls, men laughing too hard.

My fingers tighten around my purse strap. This was a bad idea.

What choice did I have? My ex called, making it known he found me again, and wants to discuss our child. I can’t ignore it. He will chase me out of this town and I’ve finally found footing again. As much as I want to, I can’t run forever. The life I have given to Quinn isn’t the one I dreamed of. Two years of moving, two years without stability, I can’t keep it up. She needs to make friends and keep them.

Which is why he called, I answered, and I’m walking into a dive bar like I know what I’m doing, even as every instinct in my body screams against this.

I glance around the bar, scanning the space, taking in all the faces. None of them are familiar—truckers maybe, a few locals, some rough-looking guys in worn denim and leather. Those I know as Kings of Anarchy Motorcycle Club because they come in to the diner I work at sometimes and frequent the ice cream shop I have a second job at. A couple women sit near the bar laughing loudly with a group of men. They are dressed for the night out while I’m considerably covered up. The more I look around, the more my anxiety climbs. He isn’t here.

I check the time on my phone. Seven twenty-three. He said seven. I didn’t see his car in the parking lot and purposely waited to make sure he would already be here. And he’s not.

My stomach twists. Typical. He is playing games with me as usual.

A bartender with a gray beard wipes down the counter and nods in my direction. “You meeting someone, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” I remark, forcing a polite smile as I step closer. “My ex. He said he’d meet me here.”

“What’s your name?” He ask still wiping down the bar top.

“Lucy,” I respond hoping maybe this will help somehow.

The man snorts softly like he’s heard that story before. “Well, honey, you can wait if you want, but I ain’t seen anyone come in looking for a Lucy.”

Great. I exhale slowly and slide onto a stool anyway. “Can I just get a soda?”

He pours one without asking questions and pushes it toward me. I wrap both hands around the glass, letting the cold seep into my fingers. Maybe Clint’s late. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. Maybe—My phone buzzes interrupting my thoughts.

My heart jumps as I grab it. Unknown number.

I answer quickly. “Hello?”

A slurred voice comes through the speaker. “Lucy?”

I stiffen as instincts kick in. Tension rolls through me as my body prepares to take the brunt of whatever comes next. Abuse is a funny thing like that. Even with years away, my body reacts like I am back in the grips of his violence once again. I thought I was strong enough to face him. I was wrong. Based on this phone call alone, I am not ready to do this. Now, I’m going to have to work things out to move again. He’s too close.

“Where are you?” He asks speaking clearly suddenly.

“I’m here,” I say carefully. “At Black Rose. Like you said.”

A long pause. Then a laugh. “Yeah, about that. I ain’t gonna make it tonight.”

For a moment I don’t breathe. “You asked me to meet you,” I respond delicately because everything inside me is screaming that I mixed it up. This is my fault. Old habits die hard.

“Relax,” he states like we are friends. “We’ll figure out something later.”

Anger flares in my chest. “You said it was about Quinn.”

“Yeah well,” he mutters, “I’ve been thinking we need to work out visitation.”

My stomach drops. “You can’t just decide that after two years. When I left you told me to take off and not to look back. You even said she wasn’t yours.” I leave off the part where he specifically told me if I did stay close he would kill me in front of our daughter to teach her a lesson about leaving.

His tone turns sharp. “Don’t fuckin’ say that shit. She’s my kid too. You keep popping off and around, can’t find you, and I want to see her. You got off clean, Lucy. That’s bullshit. Taking off and making me chase you like a fucking dog wanting a bone. Ain’t got a taste for you right now. Just wanna see my daughter.”

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Advertisement Ride Hard (Hellions Ride Out #2) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/ride-hard-hellions-ride-out-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:40 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/ride-hard-hellions-ride-out-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Hellions Ride Out Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 56238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)

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Two neighbors, one driveway, and a ride neither expect to happen.

Dean “Raff” O’Neal is the Vice President of the Salemburg Hellions. His life is his cut. Brothers before everything, especially broads. Single, loving to mingle, he lives life one ride to the next.

A beautiful woman with an adorable kid moves in next door, changing his playboy ways.

Josie Schneider is tired. She is barely holding on after giving up everything to move once again. As a single mom, she wants a quiet life for her and her son.

Soon enough her ex finds her again, refusing to give her peace. Raff won’t hesitate to do anything necessary to keep Josie and her son safe, even if it means claiming her as his own to protect them.

Their ride is driven by need and accelerated by want. This time it’s the Salemburg Hellions on a ride out for love

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Josie

The mid-day sunshine reflects across the lake in front of me.

“Breathe,” Jackie, my older sister reminds.

My dress fits like a glove. Full length, mermaid with lace sleeves matching the pattern of my cathedral veil. I inhale as my sister adjusts the thin material, spreading it out across the grass as the photographer snaps away.

Today is the day I commit to my high school sweetheart, Jonah. How we got here still seems like a dream. From that first dance in ninth grade to now, a month after my graduation getting married with our family around.

Jonah is a year older than me. Everyone said it wouldn’t last once he left. I wanted to laugh then and even more so now. Tell me again how it couldn’t work. Because here we are.

Immediately after his graduation, he went to BCT- Basic Combat Training, or boot camp for the Army. He went on to his advanced training before finding his first duty station in Fort Liberty, North Carolina. I’ve never left Arkansas, but here Jonah is seeing all kinds of places. All because he made a decision at seventeen. In order to join, he had to have his mom sign off on it or wait until his eighteenth birthday. Waiting has never been Jonah’s strength, so his mom signed and off he went.

He lives in his dorm or barracks, basically his crash pad. It isn’t the best place. Jonah is an only child. He hasn’t had to share a room ever, most especially one this size. Close quarters force him to get to know his roommate in ways I know he would prefer not to. He doesn’t mind his bunk mate generally speaking; however, the other gentleman is a slob.

Jonah is constantly picking up after him and doing the right things for the inspections they get. Who knew the military is so particular on how their soldiers keep their quarters? If we get married, that takes him out of bachelors’ quarters.

Honestly, I don’t understand how the military can say someone can’t live on their own unless they are married. Jonah is an adult. Why does the Army get to tell him who he lives with and the conditions he will live in? To me, he can go to war and risk his life, but he doesn’t get a say in where he lives as a single male … someone make it make sense to me. It doesn’t bother Jonah. He constantly reminds me he signed up for this. He is the property of the United States Army and he’s proud to be a soldier. In the end, as long as Jonah is happy, then I’m happy. The Army makes him his best self even if I don’t understand it all.

For example, I will be his “dependent”, which is a term my independent self struggles with. However, if we continue without me marrying him then I need to stay here to go to college. I can’t afford to go to school and pay for my own place to stay near him in North Carolina. It also means my residency status will make me have to pay out of state tuition until I’ve been a North Carolina resident long enough. As a military dependent my life in Arkansas isn’t held against me. That isn’t the only factor in our decision to get married now. We have been doing this long-distance relationship for a year, and it’s not been easy. I miss him. While I could live in my own place there near him, it makes me nervous. More than anything, I don’t like the idea of living in a strange town without him being there too. He doesn’t have a high enough rank to live out in town without a dependent. That is how he keeps explaining it to me.

I don’t exactly understand rank other than it matters to him. Somehow his rank gives him more freedoms as he works his way up. All of this is foreign to me. My dad did not serve in the military. In fact, he’s been the bread man my whole life, distributing loaves of bread and boxes of snacks to the grocery stores in our area.

We could wait. I could stay here and go to school while Jonah focuses on his career. Except, I don’t want to spend four more years apart from Jonah. It’s not like we haven’t wanted to be married one day. We have talked about it since forever it seems. This last year apart was hard enough, I don’t want to spend another year like this. When Jonah proposed on his weekend liberty after graduating boot camp, it gave us a new drive to stick it out even though the distance is hard. Immediately, I said yes, and I knew this is the life for us. Wherever he goes, I want to be by his side.

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Advertisement Ride Easy (Hellions Ride Out #3) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/ride-easy-hellions-ride-out-3-read-online-chelsea-camaron Fri, 03 Apr 2026 23:14:39 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/ride-easy-hellions-ride-out-3-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Hellions Ride Out Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)

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Two people, one night, and a ride full of chaos, adventure, and steam.

The attraction is undeniable, the desire indescribable, and a connection that is unbreakable.
Dixon “Miles” Hardison is the Treasurer of the Salemburg Hellions MC. His life is his club. Brothers before everything, especially broads. Single in a small town, he lives his life from one ride to the next without a care.
A run goes wrong leaving him injured. A stop for help turns into more. Sparks fly when she turns up in Salemburg six months later.
All drive and no off button, Danae Dunne is living her life dedicated to family and work. Working hard and taking care of everyone around her, she’s distracted the night he takes her.
Miles doesn’t know how to react when the woman he kidnaps to stitch him up isn’t even bothered by the ordeal. He leaves her never giving it another thought until she turns up at a brother’s house leaving him unable to resist the pull.

Their ride fueled in determination and survival. This time it’s the Salemburg Hellions on a ride out for love.

*This is a full length romantic suspense novel in the Hellions Motorcycle Club world. This is a spin-off series so you do not need to read the other Hellions MC books first. Each book in all Hellions MC novels is an interconnected stand alone novel with a happily ever after. Paperback page count is 336 pages. This is not an exact depiction of life in a motorcycle club, but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Country Boy’s office door sticks like it’s got opinions. I shoulder it open anyway, because I’m not in the habit of asking wood for permission to enter. The small room was maybe a kid’s bedroom once upon a time that was transitioned into an office when the place was turned into a bar. The common area of the clubhouse is loud behind me—pool balls cracking, someone laughing too hard, the low thrum of bikes outside like a heartbeat—but in here, behind this door, it’s quieter. He keeps it that way which is why the door sticking doesn’t bother him. Keeps the noise out so he can hear his own thoughts, at least that’s what he says.

Country Boy looks up from behind the desk, jaw already set like he’s been expecting a problem. “Say it,” he tells me.

I shut the door and lean back against it, arms crossing over my chest. Ink covering down both arms in full sleeves, disappearing under my shirt. Never hidden, though, is the art over the tops of my hands, I won’t ever hide who I am. People see the tattoos first. They judge without even knowing a person.

My attitude. Let them.

Underestimate me. Go ahead.

“I’ve got a meet to take,” I explain. “Bella Vista, Arkansas. Saint’s Outlaws.”

The air shifts. Country Boy’s eyes narrow. “Arkansas.”

“Yeah.”

He pushes up from his chair slow, like he’s giving himself time not to explode. Country Boy’s not the kind of president who yells to hear himself. When he’s mad, the whole room feels it anyway. Like pressure building before a storm. It’s an air about him. And his problem isn’t about Saint’s Outlaws, Wrath, or any ally club.

It’s with me. Because he knows what I want and I’m pretty sure he’s going to deny my request.

“You don’t ride out alone,” he states. Because my need to escape feeling tied down absolutely drives the man insane. I have learned to stop taking off without a head’s up because he takes brotherhood seriously. Me leaving without a word crawls under his skin to no end.

“I’m not planning to.”

Country Boy’s gaze flicks to the spot, the reminder. The mark, a small one under my left ear where the scar never quite fades. Like he’s tallying old damage. Like he’s weighing the cost of me leaving and the cost of me staying. I live with the visible reminder of what happened and what it almost cost me every day.

“Every time you get an idea,” he mutters, “it comes with a divide in the highway and a choose your path question.”

I shrug. “Highways don’t lie. People do. Bad choices lead to lessons learned. We all manage to get back on track eventually.”

His mouth tightens. “Why’s this meet on your shoulders?”

“Because it’s money.” I tap two fingers against my chest to my officer’s patch. “And because Wrath asked for me. Cleared it with Tripp before he even dialed my number.”

That name lands heavy. Talon “Tripp” Crews is the Haywood’s Landing Hellions President and our lead chapter of all of the Hellions in the Carolina’s. He has the power to make Country Boy stand down if he was to try to stop me from taking the meet.

Wrath runs with the Saints—an ally club with reach and reputation, not the kind you ignore if you want to keep business moving smooth. We’ve worked with them before. Not often, but enough to know what to expect. Saints don’t play games. Saints don’t waste time. And out of all the Hellions chapters he prefers to work with Salemburg.

Country Boy drags a hand over his beard, eyes hard. “I don’t like it.”

“That’s not new,” I state the obvious.

He points at me, warning in the gesture. “I mean I don’t like it because you like riding alone. I need to know you got a plan and it isn’t one where you have no man at your back. You get that nomad itch and you start thinking you’re untouchable.”

I push off the door and step closer. “I don’t think I’m untouchable.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He studies me, “you got a plan. I see it in your eyes Miles. And that I don’t like.”

I run my hand through my hair. Damn fucker always reads people quick. “Smoke will be with me for most of the ride,” I give him the truth. “We split in Tennessee. He heads back after the state line and I keep going. Less attention that way.”

Country Boy’s stare stays locked on mine. He’s reading me, like he always does—trying to find the angle I’m not saying out loud.

“You plan to be in and out?” he asks.

“Meet. Verify terms, grab a key to the drop facility. Confirm transport details, times and shit. Collect half. Leave,” I state. “I’m not staying for drinks or a welcome party.”

Country Boy exhales slow, like he’s swallowing down whatever instincts are clawing at him. “You always were built wrong,” he says finally. “Like you came out already halfway gone. I know you got every brother’s back without fail, but damn you can’t stay in one place longer than two weeks without finding a way to hit the pavement.”

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Advertisement Loco’s Last (Saint’s Outlaws MC – Dreadnought NC #2) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/locos-last-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Thu, 26 Feb 2026 08:20:16 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/locos-last-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Saint's Outlaws MC - Dreadnought NC Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54572 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 273(@200wpm)___ 218(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)

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Part One -Shattered SaintLife was good, great even, until it wasn’t.
Dante “Loco” Verdone fulfilled his childhood dream of being a cop. Each day came with a new challenge and he relished being in the thick of it all. He came home each night to a woman he loved, cherished, and wanted to spend his life with.
Until tragedy struck changing everything for Dante including his home.
Leaving the city, his job, and life as he knew it, he climbed on his bike heading south. Landing in Dreadnought, North Carolina was supposed to be a pit stop. But deep in the mountains, he found solace in his pain. He found purpose in himself with the Saint’s Outlaws MC.
Thirteen years had passed, but calling her for a favor brought them back together. Hearing her voice awoke something inside Dante. She drove him crazy before, now her casual dismissal of him brought him to his knees.
Some things have changed, like the cop became an outlaw. But one thing remained the same Dante’s desire to spend his life loving her.

Part Two – Loco’s Last
Once a door closes, it shouldn’t be reopened.
That was Dante “Loco” Verdone’s motto. He never looked back, only ahead.
Living by the code of an outlaw was easy. But situations sometimes require giving respect to the thin blue line of the law.
He had someone who had the power and resources he needed. Except to call her meant opening a door he slammed closed.
Juanita Banks had a life she loved. Heartbreak didn’t hold her back. She refused to be crushed by a man, no matter how much he still turned her on.
He called. She answered because she felt she owed him one last marker. Deed done, this time it was Nita who walked away without looking back.
Having her close again, Loco would show the world his crazy before he lost her again. Even if it was the last thing he did, he was going to have Nita back

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Loco

I woke up to the sound of breathing that wasn’t mine, soft and steady, like the city finally exhaled while it slept. For a second I forgot where I was, then my arm tingles and I realized it’s pinned under Char’s head. She was warm. Always warm. My ceiling fan hummed overhead, lazy blades pushing cool air that felt like a gentle kiss to my skin. The gray light of early morning slipped through the blinds, illuminating her shoulder, the curve of her cheek, and the silk of her bonnet against my forearm.

I didn’t move. I learned the hard way that waking her before she was ready earned me a look that could stop traffic. Instead, I lay there and catalog the small things. The faint vanilla-citrus scent of her lotion. The way her fingers curled into my T-shirt like she feared I might slip off without her permission. The quiet city outside—sirens far enough away to be background noise, a bus sighing at the corner, someone yelling who knows what to who knows who. This was my favorite time of day. Before the badge. Before the radio. Before the version of me that had to put on armor and pretend I was not human.

Char stirred, nose brushing my bicep. “Your staring again,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“Wasn’t staring,” I muttered quietly. “Just appreciating the view.”

She hummed, not convinced. Her eyes cracked open, dark and warm, and she smiled like she knew exactly what she did to me. “What time is it?”

“Too early.” I replied because anytime I had to get out of this bed is too early for me if she was in my arms.

It was new this thing between us. But it felt good, right in a way I couldn’t explain.

She sighed, “For you or for the world?”

“Both.” I shifted carefully, easing my arm out from under her head. She made a small protest sound but didn’t wake fully. I leaned over and kiss her forehead, then her temple. “I’ve gotta get ready. Go back to sleep, baby.”

She reached for me, fingers catching my wrist. “You workin’ days or nights the rest of the week?”

“Days. Thank God.”

She smiled wider at that. “Then you can make breakfast.”

I laughed. “You’re bold this early in the morning.”

“You love it.” She rolled onto her back, stretching like a cat, shirt riding up to show a strip of smooth brown skin. She catches me looking and smirked. “Told you. Staring.”

“Can’t help it,” I admitted. “You live here. It’s in the lease, guess you missed that part.”

“I do not live here,” she stated automatically, the way she always did.

“You’re here five nights a week.” I gave her the damn truth. It was fast sure. Maybe too fast for her to be staying like this, but we didn’t meet under circumstances that were the usual in the first place. Deciding to lighten the mood because we aren’t ready for some deep conversation about where we sleep, I reverted back to something easier, her beauty. “You stay here. It’s in the agreement, I have to give props to the view, baby.”

“Temporary residency,” she explained. “With benefits. When the renewal comes we can see if there needs to be a renegotiation.”

“Generous benefits for both sides,” I stated, leaning down to kiss her properly this time. She tasted like sleep and toothpaste from last night, and something sweet I could never quite name. She kissed me back, slow and lazy, one hand sliding up my chest.

We could stay like this. The thought hit me hard and sudden. We could call in sick. Order breakfast. Let the city handle itself for a few hours. But my phone buzzed on the nightstand, like it knew exactly what I’m thinking.

“Killjoy,” Char muttered.

“Duty calls,” I stated on a sigh, reaching for it. A quick glance—nothing urgent, just a reminder from my partner about a meeting. I dropped the phone back down. “Rain check for breakfast?”

She nodded, then propped herself up on one elbow. “Coffee?”

“You read my mind.” I twisted my legs out of bed, the hardwood cool under my feet. The apartment was small but it’s mine—brick walls, big windows, a kitchen that barely fit two people, really only worked if one of them knew how to move out of the way. I pulled on sweatpants and a t-shirt, then made my way to the coffee maker.

Char padded in behind me a minute later, wrapped in my hoodie like it belonged to her. It did. Everything did, eventually.

She leaned against the counter while I set up the machine. “You sleep okay?”

“Like a rock,” I replied. “You?” I wondered if this was leading her backwards. The early days, nightmares were frequent. Given how we met, what she endured, yeah, I found myself thankful for any night she could sleep without a bad dream.

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Advertisement Property of Riot (Kings of Anarchy Alabama #2) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/property-of-riot-kings-of-anarchy-alabama-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Wed, 07 Jan 2026 10:40:35 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/property-of-riot-kings-of-anarchy-alabama-2-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Insta-Love, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Kings of Anarchy Alabama Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 63608 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 318(@200wpm)___ 254(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)

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Nothing above the Kings. Anarchy reigns.
Smoke a little smoke, drink a little drink, and live life one ride to the next.
Freedom Falls, Alabama is either the safest place to live or the most dangerous, depending on one’s view of the Kings of Anarchy MC.
Ledger “Riot” Masters is as bold, broody, and rough around the edges as they come. He has one Kings of Anarchy MC. If it isn’t for the club, about the club, or within the club, he has no energy for it.
Kelly Ringle is a small-town girl enjoying every day to its fullest. She isn’t ready for anything serious. Good thing Riot understands this and they have an agreement that fits both of their lifestyles.
Tragedy strikes, her memories are gone, including every touch she shared with Riot. Some things aren’t treasured until they are gone. He sees clearly what he wants now, and it’s a life with her. If only he can make her see what they had was good, but what he’s willing to give her in the future is even better.
The problem, her accident is anything but an accident. The Kings are determined to find out who is behind it before Kelly loses more than memories. The threat is present. No one wants her to lose her life, most especially Riot.
Passion is one thing, love is another, but the loyalty to endure the good and bad together is what makes forever work. The Kings of Anarchy rally together behind Riot to show Kelly what family is all about

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Kelly

Riot’s mouth is on my throat, hot and possessive, and God help me, I melt for him every single time.

The dim light of my apartment flickers from the hallway lamp, casting shadows across his shoulders as he pins me gently—yes, gently, as if he’s terrified of pushing too far—against the wall. His hands bracket my hips, warm and rough, sliding up my sides like he already knows the way to unravel me. Because he does.

“Kelly…” he murmurs, voice low and sinful, his breath brushing my ear.

My fingers lace around the back of his head, tugging him closer. It’s instinct now, muscle memory, a gravitational pull I pretend I don’t understand. He kisses me like he’s starving. Like he hasn’t had his mouth on me every chance he gets.

The heat between us sparks fast, too fast, the kind that should terrify me, but instead makes my knees go weak. I feel myself arch into him, feel the quiet growl he gives back. The promise in it. The warning of the intensity yet to come.

This—whatever this is between us—always burns bright, always feels like the beginning of something neither of us will admit out loud because it might just fizzle out if we accept it.

That’s why I have to say it.

I drag my mouth away from his, breathing hard, my heart slamming against my ribs. His forehead rests against mine, his breath ragged, his hands still gripping me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he lets go.

“Riot…” I whisper, swallowing the emotion trying to rise. “Don’t fall in love with me,” I remind him like we haven’t been doing this same dance for months.

His eyes open slowly, dark and unreadable. There’s a flicker—hurt, surprise, something warmer—before he masks it with his familiar broody calm.

“We said we were keepin’ it simple,” he mutters, brushing his thumb over my hip. “I remember.”

“No strings,” I say, trying to sound stronger than I feel. “Just… fun.” It’s more of a reminder to myself, but I’ll never tell him this.

He pauses.

Just a beat.

His jaw ticks.

But he nods. “Fun,” he repeats, though the word sounds like it tastes wrong on his tongue.

He lifts me easily, carrying me toward the bedroom with that slow, controlled confidence that always makes my stomach flip. My legs wrap around him automatically, a soft gasp escaping me when his body presses to mine.

“Long as we’re clear,” he says, voice low and rough as he lays me back on the bed. “This is what we agreed.”

I give him a smile that feels thinner than I want it to. “Good,” I lie, because it’s safer that way. “We’re on the same page.”

He studies me for a second too long, like he’s searching for something I’m not ready to give. Something I’m terrified he’ll see. Then he kisses me again, slow at first, deepening until the world goes warm and blurry and beautifully uncomplicated.

His hands slide over me, steady, tender in a way I crave. He moves against me like he knows every thought I haven’t said, every place I need him most. And as our breaths tangle and the room fades around us, I almost forget the rule I insisted on.

Almost.

Because the way he says my name?

The way he touches me like it means something?

The way my heart stumbles in my chest?

If either of us falls first, it’s going to hurt.

So I close my eyes, hold onto the heat, the closeness, the illusion of safety.

Just fun.

Just once more tonight.

Just us.

Not love.

Definitely not love.

No emotions, not even fondness. Physical connection.

Release.

That is what I’m holding onto.

Even if—somewhere deep down—I already know I’m lying.

As he enters me, his thick shaft stretching me in the most amazing way possible, I have to get my head and heart out of this. My body takes over, desire, want, need even taking over as all thoughts of how good this is and how much better it might be if I dared to let it go away as my body climbs higher and higher with every thrust.

* * *

Riot

Three Days Later

Kelly tastes like sugar and feels like trouble in my hands. Familiar and unique at the same time. Then again, this is our song and dance. The one we repeat regularly.

Her back hits the wall with a soft thud, her soft little gasp punching straight through my chest. I’ve had her like this more times than I should admit—pressed between my body and something solid, nowhere for her to go but closer—but it never hits my gut any less.

Every time feels like a first time. When has it ever been like this for me?

Never.

Her fingers curl into the leather of my cut, tugging me down to her. She kisses like she does everything else in life—full send, no hesitation, no halfway. Her mouth opens, warm and sweet, and for a second I forget who the hell I am.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >61

Advertisement Snowed in with Stud – 25 Days of Christmas Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/snowed-in-with-stud-25-days-of-christmas-read-online-chelsea-camaron Thu, 25 Dec 2025 22:08:03 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/snowed-in-with-stud-25-days-of-christmas-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Advertisement

Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 68716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Two people, one bed, one weekend snowed in together, and a ride that steadies the chaos inside both of them.
Retirement can be so nice.
Anthony "Stud" Brocato is living life on the wild side of retirement. Having served his twenty years in the Marines and then passing on his hot rod shop to his daughter, the former Hellions MC president is taking a much needed vacation.

Holley Truman hosts her mountain cabin as a short term rental in order to make ends meet as she was left with a debt from her ex leaving her finances tanking. Running behind on packing, she happens to be home when her weekend tenant arrives.

These two never expected to meet much less be stranded in a blizzard for days together. Christmas is a different holiday this year as these two opposites get snowed in together.

*This is a bonus story to the Hellions Ride Out Series. Total paperback page count is 366 pages. This is a full-length romance with a HEA

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Holley

Glistening catches my eye, the hum of the vacuum no longer soothing me as my curiosity is piqued. Cutting off the machine and shifting the sofa ever so slightly, there the metallic piece sits taunting me.

The earring under the couch.

It’s small and sparkly and absolutely not mine, and for a full three seconds my brain tries to make it something innocent. A friend’s? A coworker’s? Something that fell out of a bag?

Something, anything, other than what it is.

Even if my gut has been screaming at me for months that things aren’t quite right between us, love is blind right?

Then I see the smear of red on the inside of the cushion where the fabric dips—his shirt smeared with a similar shade on the collar. One random night he came home late, it all crashes through my head again. “Traffic is a bitch,” he explained, dropping a kiss on my cheek that smelled like a perfume I don’t own.

The earring glints up at me from the floor like it’s proud of itself.

I rock back on my heels a little and just… stare at it.

It’s quiet in the house. Late afternoon light comes through the front windows, warm and golden, making all the dust I haven’t bothered to clean float like lazy snow. The Christmas boxes are still in the hall closet, untouched, because I haven’t had the energy to drag them out. We were supposed to decorate this weekend. All thoughts of holiday spirit leave my mind.

I’m holding another woman’s earring in my hand instead.

My throat tightens. My heartbeat thuds in my ears. This can’t be happening.

“No,” I whisper, even as every piece slides into place. The drunken laughs on his phone late at night. The sudden gym membership, the new cologne, the way he started complaining that I was distant whenever I said I was tired.

I am tired. Tired from working the extra shifts. Tired from patching the budget, paying the bills he forgot. Tired from carrying both of us while he stays between opportunities that somehow always involve craft beer and networking.

And now I’m tired of being stupid.

The sound of the garage door opening snaps me out of it. The earring feels heavy in my palm.

I close my fingers around it and stand up.

The door from the garage squeaks open a second later. “Holls? You home?”

His voice is casual and warm, like we’re a normal married couple and there isn’t another woman’s jewelry pressed into my sweaty palm.

“In here,” I call, and I’m surprised my voice doesn’t crack. It comes out level. Almost bored. Is this where we have ended up? I am so shut down I’m numb.

He comes into the living room carrying a brown paper bag with the liquor store logo. Great. More liquor we can’t afford. His dark hair is mussed like he’s run his hands through it, his blue button-down is untucked, jeans slung low. He looks like the version of himself he likes to present to the world: laid-back, charming, and a little edge to him. The guy without a care in the world.

“Hey,” he greets, grinning, setting the bag down on the coffee table. “I thought we could do margaritas tonight, make it a thing. I grabbed that⁠—”

I open my hand instantly silencing him. The earring gleams between my fingers. Or maybe it’s in my head the way the light seems to beam down on the small metal jewel.

His words cut off like someone pulled a plug.

For a second, all the blood drains from his face. It’s subtle—just a beat, just a flicker—but I know him. I’ve known this man for twelve years, been married to him for eight. I know the blink too slow, the swallow, the recalibration. Then he plasters on a confused smile. “What’s that?”

I don’t blink. “You tell me.”

He laughs, but it’s too quick, too high. “Holls, come on. It’s an earring. Probably yours?”

“It’s not mine.” My voice is quiet, steadier than I feel. “Try again.”

He takes a step toward me, palms out like he’s approaching a skittish animal. “Babe, relax. It’s probably from— I don’t know, from when you had your sister over last month. Or⁠—”

“My sister wears hoops,” I cut in. “Gold hoops. You know that. She has since high school.” The bigger the hoops the better the whore, was her favorite motto for her earrings. I tilt the sparkling stud so it catches the light. It’s delicate and fancy. “This was under the couch. Near the nice red smudge on the cushion. The same shade that was on your shirt.”

We stand there in the middle of our living room, the silence thick between us.

His jaw works. He looks at the earring, at me, back at the earring. I watch the shift in his eyes as deny everything slams into she’s not buying it. His mind working overtime to fix this, fix me.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Advertisement Brutal for It (Hellions Ride Out #12) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/brutal-for-it-hellions-ride-out-12-read-online-chelsea-camaron Wed, 29 Oct 2025 22:16:56 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/brutal-for-it-hellions-ride-out-12-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Hellions Ride Out Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

Unlikely lovers, these two can't walk away even when they should.
Tommy Boy
My life is wild and free. As the youngest son to Frank "Tank" Oleander, I've always known my life to be in the Hellions MC.
I am Thomas "Tommy Boy" Oleander.
I'm loyal to a fault. Even if it kills me inside.

Jamison
I am damaged goods.
My life is chasing one high to the next.
I am Jamison Violet Rivera.
Loving him is the only thing I've ever gotten right. Too bad, I don't know how to hold onto anything good.

Sometimes love simply isn't enough. Boundaries and loyalty will be tested at every turn on this ride.

Tommy Boy
She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on. More than a woman, she's stronger than anyone I've ever known.
She's got me twisted up inside because I can't read her.
Then she tells me, the two of us will soon be three. Every insecurity I've ever had rears its ugly head. She deserves better than I can give. Love can be brutal sometimes.

*Each book in the Hellions Ride On Series is a full-length standalone novel (except Beauty in It which is a novella). This is not meant to be an exact depiction of life in a motorcycle club, but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain. Brutal for It is 320 pages in paperback format

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Before Breathe for It (Book 3)

The blonde bombshell in front of me—with a smile that knocks most men flat on their asses—is getting nowhere with me. Not today, not about this. No way, no how.

“Come on, Tommy,” she practically pouts, lips glossy, eyes flashing like she’s never been told no in her whole damn life. Well, most of the time, she isn’t denied anything so she isn’t exactly used to the word no. But this, I’m not the first to tell her no, and I won’t be the last.

“Dia, don’t, dollface.” I lift my hands in surrender, but my voice stays hard, steady. “I love you. You know I do. I’d do anything for you—hell, kill for you, babe. But if I put you on my bike for this ride, every brother will come down on me. And worse than that? It’ll be your momma who beats my ass black and blue.”

Her pout twists to fire. “This is bullshit,” she mutters, stomping off, boots smacking the pavement with all the rage she can pack into her five-feet-who-knows-the-inches frame.

Dia Crews is a firecracker and always has been. One day, she’s gonna break some poor bastard’s heart into a thousand pieces, and maybe she’ll smile while she does it. She’s beautiful clear down to her soul. A woman with a body sculpted like temptation itself and a spirit that brightens even the darkest Hellions day. Everyone loves Dia Crews.

And no one—no one—wants to see her sad. Or mad. Or anything but the sunshine she usually is, bottled up and spilling out over anyone lucky enough to get close. Dia gets what Dia wants. As she should.

Except today.

Because this ride—The Tail of the Dragon—it’s not about her. It’s not about anything but the road and the men I ride it with. This patch run is about brotherhood, patience, focus, and determination. It’s about staying the course when every damn curve is trying to throw you off. It’s about proving I’m not just some prospect, not just Tank Oleander’s son, not just another name on a roster.

Today, I get my ride.

Today, I earn my final rocker.

The Tail of the Dragon—that twisted, vicious stretch of road curling through the mountains—has claimed men better than me. It’s a rite of passage in the Hellions Motorcycle Club, a ride like no other. Three hundred and eighteen curves in eleven miles.

And today, it’s my trial by fire.

I’ve waited my whole life for this moment. I was born for this shit.

I’m Thomas “Tommy Boy” Oleander, youngest son to Frank “Tank” Oleander and Savannah “Sass” Perchton Oleander. Youngest grandson to Rhett “Danza” Perchton—Hellions Original, one of the men who built this brotherhood with his blood, sweat, and time behind bars.

Prospecting was hell. Long nights, shit work, runs where you didn’t know if you were gonna make it home. But none of that touches the ache in my chest watching Dia stomp off unhappy, arms crossed, shoulders stiff.

She doesn’t get it. She can’t.

Today isn’t for her.

This ride is for me—for the club. This is the day I carve my place in Hellions history.

And one day, when Dia’s got a man of her own it will be on him to take her on this ride, to give her the gift of this. But not today. Not when my patch, my future, my brotherhood is on the line.

The absence of my cut makes me feel naked. Vulnerable. Like I’m just some kid standing around a bunch of lions, waiting to see if they’ll tear me apart or let me walk with them.

The final patch is everything and more.

As a kid, my favorite part of the day was when my dad man came home from the shop. He’d walk in, grease under his nails, sweat on his brow, but always steady. Always strong. He’d sling his cut over the dining room chair like it was a second skin, peeling it off to breathe for the night.

I’d rush over, too small to even fit both arms around the thing, and run my fingers across the patches. Feeling the rough stitching, the weight of it. Like it had its own heartbeat.

That vest isn’t just leather. It is everything.

Danza, being an original and grandfather to four boys, drilled it into us early: every patch is earned. Nothing’s given. Not respect, not colors, not loyalty. You want it, you prove it. Bloodline doesn’t matter, names aren’t shit, but the man you are for your brothers is where it counts.

Later, he told me about the diamond patch—the one-percenters. The men who didn’t just brush the line between outlaw and law-abiding but stomped right over it. The Hellions don’t run drugs anymore, not like the old days. But the transport business? Sometimes cargo’s hot. Sometimes you know, sometimes you don’t. Some brothers wear the diamond because they made that choice and earned it. Others don’t.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >67

Advertisement Gonzo’s Grudge (Saint’s Outlaws MC – Dreadnought NC #1) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/gonzos-grudge-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-1-read-online-chelsea-camaron Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:04:24 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/gonzos-grudge-saints-outlaws-mc-dreadnought-nc-1-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Saint's Outlaws MC - Dreadnought NC Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Part Shattered Saint
After surviving a war zone, Gabriel “Gonzo” Gonzales found himself restless and longing for a connection with his brothers in arms. Having patched to the Saints Outlaws MC, he became at ease like never before.
Life was good with people he trusted at his back. Until the person who mattered most in his world dealt with the worst of betrayals firsthand. With his son paying the consequences for someone else’s crime, Gonzo had one focus driving revenge.
The grudge would change everything for Gonzo. Needing to change the playing field, he locked in on his target and set his mission for revenge.
Deep in a valley of the Blue Ridge Mountains was a town no one thought twice about. Dreadnought, North Carolina was a quiet place where no outsider dared to enter since the Saint’s Outlaws moved in.
Gonzo won’t lose control. He won’t stop until he’s settled the score. The brothers behind him won’t back down even if it costs them everything.
The Saint’s Outlaws protect their own to the very end.
Welcome to the battle for vengeance.
These outlaws won’t be stopped until the scales are tipped in their favor once more.

Part Gonzo's Grudge
There were always casualties of war.
That was what Gabriel “Gonzo” Gonzales told himself once he locked in on the target of his grudge. The man who shattered his world had a weakness in his only daughter, Gonzo would exploit this any way he could.
IvaLeigh Walsh lived a sheltered life behind the gated community she was raised in. College was a new freedom and she was learning not everyone could be trusted.
One misfortune after another plagued the young woman. Yet, at every turn a stranger who called himself Gonzo seemed to be her savior.
The attraction was real, but the man’s intentions were anything but pure.
She was entangled in a war of men and didn’t even realize the battlefield had become her heart. Torn between the life she knew and the life she was being shown, IvaLeigh didn’t know what to believe anymore

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Chapter 1

Gonzo

The call came like thunder on a clear day—unexpected, jarring, full of static.

Pop Squally sent out the alert for officers and full patches within range to report in.

Church.

Nonnegotiable unless on a run. Not unusual, not exactly rare, but the timing was all kinds of fucked.

Half the club was out on the road, running a truckload of ARs toward Arkansas. Wrath and his Bella Vista boys had put in their order weeks back, and when Wrath called, you answered—because Wrath didn’t play. Luckily, we had more than enough firepower stashed in reserve to cover it. That wasn’t the issue. The issue was why Pop was calling us in now, with half the table riding as dirty as can be across state lines. They get caught out of a protected territory our guys would be facing some serious time. He wouldn’t take on another job with so many brothers out.

There was this little kernel of curiosity that gnawed at me the whole ride in. While we had random needs to call church sometimes, there was something in my gut that felt heavier this time. I couldn’t explain it.

I killed the engine outside the clubhouse and went through the ritual to get in my seat. Our setup was unique, but the shit was rock solid.

Phone in the basket by the vault entrance door—electronics stripped off everyone like sins at confession. Step inside the first room and remove firearms. Gun in the assigned safety deposit box. My pistol clinked against the steel and suddenly I felt naked, but that was the whole point. Inside church, there were no distractions, no firepower. We were safe together inside this space, no weapons were needed. Just brothers, words, and the storm of whatever the fuck Pop was about to drop.

The vault swallowed us one by one. Concrete and steel muffled the outside world, pressing it away until it was just us and the hum of recycled air.

The old bank was a gem Pop had snapped up years back. Apparently when a bank closes a branch, the building gets sold with a clause that it couldn’t be used as a bank for five years post-sale. Due to the set up for banking, it wasn’t a prime building for many types of businesses without needing remodeling to remove the vault. For us, the bank would never be owned by anyone other than the Saint’s Outlaws holding company. We worked all of the brick building’s features to our advantage. Especially the security measures, the vault as our armory and table. Everything was decided locked together in this room. The camera system was now a closed circuit system, but we had eyes everywhere on the property.

The lobby now had neon lights, smoke, whiskey, and laughter—our playground. The vault though, that was our cathedral. No windows, no leaks, no chance for ears that didn’t belong. Inside here, the weight of history pressed on your shoulders. It smelled like leather with sweat. The air carried the weight of a thousand meetings where decisions got made that changed lives, ended others, and carved our story into the bones of Dreadnought.

At the head of the mahogany table, Pop sat where he belonged. President. He put brothers above everything including himself. A true leader. Master Sergeant in the United States Marine Corps before, Saint’s Outlaws commander always.

Calm in every storm.

His posture said everything: steady hands, steady mind, steady trigger. He didn’t need to raise his voice—his presence filled the room.

I slid into my spot at his right hand. Vice president. Not by charity, not by accident. I’d earned it. Eleven years under this patch, eight tours under his command before that. If Pop marched into straight into Hell, I’d follow him and light a cigarette on the flames as they danced around us.

One by one, the others filled their chairs. Officers locked in at the table, every other patched brother, stood against the walls or took one of the few spare chairs around.

Tower, our secretary, eyes darting like he was already writing down minutes in invisible ink. The man had a mind like no other and never forgot a damn thing. Jester, our sergeant-at-arms, cracking his knuckles and smirking like every problem was just a skull waiting for his fist. He definitely was a shoot first ask questions later type of man. Burn, the enforcer, solid, quiet, all coiled violence. Pull, he was Burn’s shadow, muscle and loyalty stacked in flesh. Disciple, our chaplain, who could quote scripture one breath and snap a neck the next. Peanut, road captain, wiry, sharp, the bastard you wanted planning your route through hell. And Loco, Treasurer, numbers man and smartass in equal measure. Everyone was present that had a crucial role in the club.

The table was full even with so many brothers taking the run for Wrath. The run had patches but no officers for a change and this gave us all the opportunity to be here. Another unusual situation for everyone holding rank to be present with an active run in place. Pop didn’t waste a second. He never did.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Advertisement Brash for It (Hellions Ride Out #11) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/brash-for-it-hellions-ride-out-11-read-online-chelsea-camaron Thu, 25 Sep 2025 16:03:39 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/brash-for-it-hellions-ride-out-11-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Biker, Erotic, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Hellions Ride Out Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75547 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >80

Behind every scar lies a story. This ride is beauty found in the broken.
Pretty Boy
Raised under the safety in the Hellions MC, most assume I’m untouchable. In some ways, I am.
Always in the shadows of my brothers, I’m just another one of Frank “Tank” Oleander’s sons.
I earned my cut, my place, and even this ride as the pretty boy with a scar on my face.
I am Kellum “Pretty Boy” Oleandar.
I am the wild card.

Kristen
I had it all. The jet-setting, want for nothing life.
In an instant everything changes.
I am Kristen Hope Mayers.
I know beauty. I know broken. I am both.
A beautiful woman, a scarred man, and one chance encounter brings these two strangers on an intense ride like neither have experienced before

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

One

Pretty Boy

The bass from the stereo playing rattles through the walls of the clubhouse, the same damn playlist that’s been on rotation for years. Does it matter? No, nobody’s here for the music. The place isn’t something to brag about, just an open area with black and white checkered pattern floor, a bar, some pool tables, dart boards, a makeshift stage area that doesn’t get used because of a fight that broke out before my generation. The Hellions’ insignia flag hangs on the wall behind the bar, bold and proud, same as the ink on my back.

This is home.

I’m leaning against the bar with a half-empty bottle of Jack, watching the peace all around me. Brothers loud as hell, women laughing too shrill, and the clack of pool balls echoing from the corner, everything and everyone in motion. I like the noise. Keeps the thoughts out. Keeps me from thinking about shit I got no business dragging back up.

“Damn, you look like you’re ready to put someone in the ground,” Crunch mutters as he passes, slapping my shoulder.

“Maybe I am,” I grunt, tipping the bottle back. Burn feels good going down. Maybe I’ll numb the pain tonight for a change.

He just chuckles, heads off to Jennissey because my older brother can’t handle being apart from his woman.

Not me. I’m not tied down and not about to be. I don’t chase women. Don’t need to. Women come easy when you’ve got a Hellions patch and the kind of reputation that makes them all kinds of curious.

Sure enough, one of them is watching me now. Little brunette, painted lips wrapped around the neck of a longneck. Eyes like she’s already got me undressed. I hold her gaze until she blushes, then crook two fingers.

She comes. They always do.

“What’s your name?” she asks, sliding up close, pressing tits against my arm like I invited her.

“Does it matter?” I let my gaze roam over her body slow, letting her see I’m not hiding what I want. “You here to talk, or you here to fuck?”

She gasps like she’s scandalized, but she doesn’t walk away. Instead she fights the smile trying to break free on her plump lips.

“Not much for foreplay, huh?” she teases.

I smirk, but it ain’t friendly. “Foreplay’s for boyfriends. You lookin’ for one of those, find another man. You lookin’ to get fucked, follow me.”

Her lips part, but she nods, quick, like she’s afraid I’ll change my mind.

That’s better.

I grab the bottle off the bar, take a last swig, then set it down hard. My boots thud against the worn floorboards as I cut through the crowd. I don’t check to see if she’s following, I know she is. The heat of her steps keeps pace with mine until we hit the back hall and exit the compound hangout.

I make my way to one of the duplexes that I tend to use. Roundman set up these things for brothers without family responsibilities to not need to buy a house. Also for when we drink so we don’t ride and when brothers are in from out of town like the annual barbecue. There are multiple ones. They are these duplexes but more like a quad with a shared living room, but closed off bedrooms with individual bathrooms for each. Room smells like cleaner because Tripp makes sure to get them cleaned professionally before any party. That doesn’t mean it’s fancy. No, it’s a basic crash pad. It’s a bed, four walls, and privacy enough. That’s all I need, and for fucking I can make due with less.

I shut the door behind her, flick the lock, and turn slow. She’s fidgeting, twisting her fingers together, all nerves now that it’s just us.

“You change your mind, sweetheart?” I ask, voice low, rough.

She shakes her head too fast. “No. I just,” she hesitates then continues, “you’re intense.”

“Good.” I strip off my cut, laying it across the chair in the corner, then step into her space. My hands cup her hips, dragging her flush against me so she feels exactly what she’s here for. “You want soft, you’re in the wrong damn room. Walk away if you aren’t gonna handle the ride.”

Her breath hitches. Her pupils blow wide. She whispers, “I don’t want soft.”

That’s all I need. My mouth claims hers, not a kiss so much as a possession. She moans into it, arms flying up around my shoulders like she’s trying to hold on. I don’t let her lead, don’t let her set the pace. My tongue pushes past her lips, teeth catching her bottom lip until she whimpers. I like that sound, it encourages the primal part inside me.

I break from her and push her back against the wall. The thud of her shoulders against drywall makes her gasp, but her nails dig into my arms like she wants more. Her body is talking and it’s all good things.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >80

Advertisement Property of Thrasher (Kings of Anarchy MC – South Carolina #1) Read Online Chelsea Camaron http://www.books2020.com/property-of-thrasher-kings-of-anarchy-mc-south-carolina-1-read-online-chelsea-camaron Sat, 30 Aug 2025 08:42:43 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/property-of-thrasher-kings-of-anarchy-mc-south-carolina-1-read-online-chelsea-camaron Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Erotic, MC Authors: Chelsea Camaron Series: Kings of Anarchy MC - South Carolina Series by Chelsea Camaron
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >81

Melody Holton lived a life that didn’t sit right in her spirit. Naïve to the outside world, small town Montana was safe, until it wasn’t. With no one to protect her or her cousin, Lyric, they fled heading nowhere fast.
Landing in South Carolina at the doorsteps of the Kings of Anarchy MC wasn’t in their plan, but would it be their saving grace?
Suddenly in this world of controlled chaos the cousins find themselves letting go of their past and Melody finds herself warming the club president’s bed.
Even with a twenty year age gap between them, Thrasher can’t deny the pull to the feisty woman. Having a single taste of her, he decides he won’t let this chance go.
Unfortunately for Melody, nothing stays behind her for long. When the men hunting the cousins crash into South Carolina, tensions erupt as Enzo “Thrasher” Flores has claimed Melody for his own.
Blood will be spilled and hearts will break, but somehow they have to hold onto each other or completely get lost in it all

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

THRASHER

There was a rhythm to the chaos. I had lived it now for years, it became second nature. Like breathing, being surrounded in noise was normal.

The thump of bass vibrated through the entire space of the Kings of Anarchy MC clubhouse.

My house.

This club was home to me.

With the speakers turned wide open, the old liquor bottles that lined the back of the bar shook like teeth rattling in a hypothermic person barely hanging on begging for a bit of warmth. Smoke filled the air; cigars, vapes, cigarettes, and weed all mixed with perfume, leather, body odor, and spilled beer. I didn’t care who lit up what as long as they didn’t burn the god forsaken place down.

My brothers were louder than the music, shouting over each other, trading shots, fists pounding against backs and shoulders in an affection not born of shared blood, but rather spilled blood.

We hadn’t had a reason to party like this in a long damn time. Tonight, though, we did.

Pinky was home.

“Get over here, you ugly bastard,” I said, pulling him into a hug that I rolled into a headlock.

“Shit, Prez!” he wheezed laughing like he didn’t just do a fucking nickel for the club. “You tryin’ to put my ass in a hospital? I’m fragile,” he teased. While the man had seriously bulked up during his time locked up, he was anything but fragile.

“You wouldn’t last in a fuckin’ hospital.” I joked, “too many nurses that won’t like your grabby hands, or crackheads in the ER, you’d catch somethin’, or worse. You spend too much time in there, they’ll figure out how you really are and end up locked in the psych ward.”

He grinned big, showing the two missing teeth in the front from a prison altercation. “Still prettier than half the pussies in here.”

We both laughed.

The clubhouse was packed to the brim tonight. The walls stained with a yellow tint from years of smoke, sweat, and spilled whiskey. Fuck knows if someone ever took the time to clean the walls, they would see just how bad. Kings of Anarchy flags hung from the rafters, the skull with a crown done with the beige accent, the space reminding everyone who belonged here. Another flag of the Palmetto tree for South Carolina done in teal, beige, and black hung beside it with our Kings skull and crown plastered over that state emblem.

Our territory ran from Florence to Columbia, South Carolina, but Kings of Anarchy were worldwide. We owned this shit and weren’t about to let anyone creep in.

People moved through rooms like heat waves, from old ladies huddled together watching their men from a distance, to the damn club bunnies in tight skirts, too-high heels, and brothers from other chapters who rode in to support Pinky. We’re all relaxed together. Even the nomads showed up because the word had spread far and wide. Pinky kept his mouth shut, did his time, and took a beating from a rival while inside that won’t go unpunished.

He more than earned this celebration.

“Yo, Thrasher,” Widower’s voice cut through from down the bar, “You see Spare’s side piece got her tits signed by Pinky? Swear to fuck, bitch is gonna get it tattooed.”

I didn’t even glance over, “Spare’s piece ain’t got no shame. We all know it. At least he didn’t have to sign her stank pussy.”

Spare had this piece that was, well, a piece. Not sure how long she had lived on the streets, really the bitch didn’t share much with any of us, but wherever she came from, she was different. Add in Spare’s brand of crazy, what those two got was a whole lot of complicated. When he first brought her around, she wanted to be a bunny. She passed the STD and STI checkup, but the bitch had a serious case of stank pussy. How Spare could ever tap that much less repeatedly, or eat that snatch, I didn’t care to know.

And bitch was crazy enough to get Pinky’s signature permanently inked on her body.

I shook my head, grabbed a beer from the bar, and moved to lean against one of the thick support beams near the center of the room.

From this vantage point, I could see most of the floor. The poker tables in the back where Hacksaw was hustling two prospects, Frootloop and Three, to the long back bar with Lettie pouring shots like a machine. Near that was a wall of women pressed together on the makeshift dance floor near the speakers and computer set up we had for Guru to keep the music going for us.

It was loud, filthy, and wild. I could see five different brothers each in a unique position for sex acts of some kind. From DK straight fucking a bunny from behind smashing her face into the wall to Rage getting his dick sucked in a corner, and then Bender eating some bitch’s pussy while standing up. Yes, he had her thighs on his shoulders, legs dangling down his back, with his hands cupping her ass and back while she moans gyrating against his face that was hidden under her skirt. Widower was hands deep down another bunny’s pants and K-9 was hands to ass starting his own adventure with his on again off again bitch.

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