Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley

Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Wed, 12 Feb 2025 07:22:53 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 Smooth Sailing (Wild West MC #3) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.books2020.com/smooth-sailing-wild-west-mc-3-read-online-kristen-ashley Wed, 12 Feb 2025 07:22:53 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/smooth-sailing-wild-west-mc-3-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, MC, Suspense Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 137310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 687(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 458(@300wpm)

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When the Chaos Motorcycle Club came to call, Harlan “Hugger” McCain wasn’t ready to be welcomed into the fold. They said he was a legacy. He felt like an outcast.

But he patched in anyway.

And he was all in to be a part of their not-quite-outlaw missions.

This takes him down to Phoenix, right into the orbit of Diana Armitage, a beautiful, green-eyed woman with a heart of gold and a scarily honed tendency to sacrifice for pretty much everyone she cares about, and some people she barely knows.

Hugger has been existing. Life has never given him much, now, he expects even less.

Diana lives life to its fullest. And she doesn’t keep it a secret she wants to drag Hugger right along with her.

But Hugger is certain he’s got bad blood. He’s got one foot in Chaos, one foot out. One foot in Diana’s life, one foot out.

Diana and his brothers in Chaos have their work cut out to show Hugger who he is.

That he belongs.

And he’s worthy to be loved.

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

PROLOGUE

BEAT-UP CHAIRS

Big Petey

Denver, Colorado

Not too long ago…

Thursday Night

The bar wasn’t the worst Pete had been in, it wasn’t the best either.

But it was a bar, a busy one, and shit went down in bars, busy, seedy, or neither.

And shit was going down.

That was why he tensed, and Rush, sitting across from him in a back corner booth, tensed with him.

They’d seen the dipshit on the barstool cop a feel of a woman’s ass as she walked by with her friends. They’d seen her negative reaction to that unwanted touch.

And they’d seen how Harlan McCain hadn’t missed either.

Now, Harlan, a bouncer at the bar, was on the move.

Pete knew Harlan also hadn’t missed the man on the barstool had a crew with him.

And that bar had one bouncer.

Harlan.

That didn’t stop the man from walking right up to Barstool and having a few words.

Unsurprisingly, those words didn’t go well.

Even if Harlan appeared to be going about things calmly and rationally, the situation deteriorated. Barstool got off his seat, going right into a two-handed shove on Harlan without the man doing a thing to stop him.

His buds all exited their seats and gathered around.

Harlan went back a step at the shove, but that was it.

Except Harlan kept talking.

Barstool got in his face, and it was clear he wasn’t sharing the weather.

Harlan stayed cool, and when Barstool finally shut up, he kept calm and kept talking with some easily read head and hand motions that indicated Barstool, and his buds, were invited to walk out the front door.

Barstool, either drunk, stupid, or both, took a step back, cocking an arm to throw a punch.

This caused Pete to prepare to move.

It also caused Harlan to dodge, and while dodging, take Barstool by the back neck of his shirt, the back waistband of his jeans and frog-march him right out the front door.

His crew followed, and their set faces and body language shared what they intended to do when this shit went outside.

Pete and Rush instantly slid out of their booth.

Harlan was a big guy. Tall. Built. And the man’s muscle wasn’t lean, it was bulky.

If he knew how to use it, it would pack a mean punch.

If he didn’t, it could slow him down. Make him vulnerable.

But four on one wasn’t good odds for anybody, no matter how they could handle themselves.

This being why Pete and Rush quickly wound their way through the bar to the front door and out of it.

Rush was young, fit, and he knew how to take care of business.

Pete had long since passed his days where he could throw down.

Shit, he had to brace in preparation just to stand up from a chair. His knees were bad. His back ached most days. His neck got stiff easily. Even his hips got to hurting on more than the rare occasion. Cold weather seized him right up. He went through ibuprofen like he owned stock in that shit.

The thought of throwing a punch, or catching one, made his stomach curl into itself.

But this was Harlan.

This was Jackie’s boy.

So Pete would get trounced to dirt if it came to it.

Rush pushed out the door first, Pete followed, and they both stopped in their tracks right outside.

Barstool was flat on his back on the pavement, and he looked like he was out cold.

One of his crew was bent double, his hand to his face, blood streaming through his fingers, hollering, “You broke my nose, asshole!”

Another was on his knees, both hands clutching his junk, a look on his face no man needed translated.

The last was backing off from Harlan, his hands up.

“Well…shit,” Rush whispered.

That said it.

What, it took them half a minute to get out there?

Impressive.

“Banned,” Harlan’s low, rough voice came, his gaze centered on Hands Up.

“You just earned a lawsuit,” Hands Up threatened.

“Got cameras everywhere, man. They caught that genius”—Harlan jerked his head toward the prone man on the pavement—“doing his grab-ass shit in the bar. Caught him refusing to leave when it was made clear he was no longer welcome in this establishment. Caught him shoving me and winding up to land a blow. Out here, caught him doing the same, then that professor”—an additional jerk of the head to the one bleeding—“jumped on my back.” Another jerk in the other direction. “That one tried to pile on. Now, you tell me, what judge is gonna see some assclown grab a woman’s ass, refuse to leave when asked, all four of you throwing down against one guy, and give you that first dime for me protecting myself and the women in the bar, something I’m employed, in part, to do?”

Before Hands Up could speak, Harlan kept at him.

“None of ’em. Trust me on this, I been doin’ it for a while. Now gather your troops and get gone. Don’t come back either. Lifetime ban.”

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Advertisement Smoke and Steel (Wild West MC #2) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.books2020.com/smoke-and-steel-wild-west-mc-2-read-online-kristen-ashley Fri, 09 Dec 2022 21:33:03 +0000 http://www.teennovels.net/smoke-and-steel-wild-west-mc-2-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Chick Lit, Contemporary, MC, Romance Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 126840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)

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She wasn’t a white dress type of girl…

Hellen Moynihan didn’t have dreams. She had goals. She knew who she was and what she wanted. She also knew what she didn’t. So when her long-term boyfriend didn’t make the grade, she moved on. And when her best friend’s boyfriend showed signs of being a scam artist, Hellen was on the case.

And he wasn’t a white hat type of guy…

Dustin “Hardcore” Cutler didn’t have dreams or goals. A troubled past led Core to do something irredeemable. The only thing he and the men of the Resurrection MC could do was vow to live their lives making up for an unforgiveable act.

And they did.

This duty leads Core to being a part of a covert protection detail, looking after Hellen Moynihan when trouble is coming to town.

At first, Core finds this dynamo of a woman intriguing, but he’s decided she’s off-limits.

Then Hellen and her friend wade into a multi-state swindling scheme.

Suddenly, off-limits for Core is out the window.

He’s got no choice but to get up close and personal.

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

“Sometimes you need a really crooked road to get your head straight.”

– Unknown

AUTHOR’S CAUTION

In a previous book in the Chaos series, an event occurred that framed who the Resurrection MC is today. All the brothers of that MC are struggling with past actions, specifically this event. These actions might be distressing for some readers. If you have issues around violence against women, I hope you find someone to provide help and support. But if you choose to read this book, I hope you view Core and his brothers with an open mind and an open heart as they work for redemption.

1

COOKIES

Hellen

I heard my front door open.

My first thought was, Maybe the cookies were over the top.

“Babe!” he called. “Cookies! Awesome!”

Or perhaps the cookies were just cruel.

I’d put on his second-favorite blouse (it could be his third, he didn’t rank them, I just paid attention to him, unlike the other way around) and had my makeup two steps down from fuck-me-hard.

So I wasn’t being totally in his face.

But my hair was loose, and although he didn’t have the balls to claim it like he meant it (his tepid tugs were a bit of a turn off, and I’d learned to try to keep his hands out of my hair), still, he loved it down, mostly because I gave great hair.

And my ass in the jeans I was wearing sprung men on a glance.

He loved my cookies, all of them, no matter what variety I baked, because I’d perfected each version to the point most people told me to start my own shop.

Like I was going to waste my time on that.

Not a chance.

“What the…?” I heard him say.

He’d seen the box.

And here we go.

I turned to the doorway.

He wandered into my kitchen.

“Babe—” he began, wearing his remorseful face.

And I was glad.

Because that pissed me off.

And it did because, if he knew to be remorseful, he knew.

He knew.

I launched in.

“You don’t have HBO Max. I have HBO Max. You asked to come—”

“Hell—”

“—over with your buds so you could watch some boxing thing, and I said yes. I was going out with my girls, but I said yes. All you had to do was tidy up after they left. I didn’t ask you to vacuum and scrub the baseboards with a toothbrush. I asked you to tidy up. I came home to you passed out in my bed and beer bottles everywhere, leftover pizza congealing, a stain on my couch—”

“That’s why I’m here now. I was going to—”

I wasn’t listening, yet again, to what he was “going to” do.

“So when I left this morning, I asked you to take care of it before you left. You didn’t. I came home to it. By then, every inch of my apartment smelled like stale beer and pizza.”

“Like I was going to say,” he stated with forced patience. “I’m here now to do it. You just did it before I could get to it.”

I did a lot of things before he could get to them.

“It’s my house, Bryan. And when I say you can hang here, and all I ask is you throw away some fucking bottles and put away some pizza, shove some plates in the dishwasher, toss some napkins in the trash, it’s not a lot to ask. Hell, you’re a grown man. I shouldn’t have to ask. And I wouldn’t ask if it didn’t mean something to me.”

He was giving me the “whoa” sign with his hand.

“Okay, I fucked up, but—”

“I woke up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom.”

He shut his mouth and tried not to let me see his smirk.

But I saw the smirk.

And, oh yeah.

Oh yeah.

Now I was pissed.

“Is something funny?” I asked quietly.

“No.” He sounded choked because he was trying not to laugh, which meant he was lying.

“What’s funny about me slamming my head into the cabinet door you left open over the toilet, even though I’ve asked you to close it probably thirty times, because last night wasn’t the first time I slammed my head into it? Which means, I don’t only want you to close it because cabinet doors should be closed. That’s the reason the cabinet has a fucking door, so you can close it and not see all the crap inside. But also, because, when I slam my head into it, it hurts like fuck.”

Me putting it that way, he looked remorseful again.

“Is it amusing to you to cause me pain?” I asked.

“Babe, I’m sorry. I’d had a few. I wasn’t paying attention.”

I let that go.

For now.

Instead, I pointed across the kitchen.

“Do you see that under-cupboard light that doesn’t work?”

Bryan turned his head that way and made an “oh shit” face.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “I mentioned it was out and I was going to email my apartment manager to fix it. You reminded me, if it isn’t an emergency, it takes them a while to do something. You then said you’d do it. I said I thought that was great, if you did it, you could show me how and I wouldn’t have to ask anyone again. That was a month ago. My apartment manager might not jump all over changing a lightbulb, but it’d be done in a few days. I’ve asked you five times. You keep telling me you’re on it. I emailed them today. They’re coming Monday.”

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Advertisement Still Standing (Wild West MC #1) Read Online Kristen Ashley http://www.books2020.com/still-standing-wild-west-mc-1-read-online-kristen-ashley Wed, 03 Feb 2021 06:27:47 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/still-standing-wild-west-mc-1-read-online-kristen-ashley Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Authors: Kristen Ashley Series: Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley
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Total pages in book: 158
Estimated words: 160732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	(Wild West MC #1) Still Standing
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Kristen Ashley
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B08NFDJWZJ
Book Information:
When Clara Delany walks into the Aces High Motorcycle Club’s hangout, she’s hit rock bottom. She’s hiding her car from the repo man, she has less than two dollars in her bank account and the only employment she can get is delivering messages for a criminal. All because of a man. Therefore, she’s sworn off them. And then she meets West “Buck” Hardy, president of the Aces High MC. Buck also meets her, and the minute he does, he makes it clear (to everyone but Clara) that they’re starting something. Since Clara doesn’t get that message, she decides to leave Buck and sort out her life in order to come back to him clean. She’s not gone but hours before life hits Clara with another blow. Which means Buck and his boys have to ride in and save the day. After that, Buck makes no bones about where they stand. But does he? Welcome to the first novel in the Wild West MC series which will tell the stories of the brothers of the Aces High MC, the Resurrection MC, and the Chaos MC…and the women who love them.
Books in Series:	Wild West MC Series by Kristen Ashley
Books by Author:	Kristen Ashley

1

Earthquake

I pulled into the back lot next to the huge warehouse beside the super-hip home improvement store, Ace in the Hole, and as instructed, kept driving around the back of the warehouse to get to the long, squat building next to it.

I did this practicing deep breathing.

I’d done my research at the library the day before and I’d lived in Phoenix all my life.

I’d heard about Ace in the Hole, but I’d never been there.

Rogan took care of the house, or at least he took care of calling the people who took care of our house.

That was, he did that before he was incarcerated.

There was a large area between the warehouse and the building next to it.

At the end, there was a line of four vans facing the chain link fence that protected the area from the street (a fence with razor wire on top—it wasn’t a great neighborhood in north Phoenix, it also wasn’t the worst neighborhood in town—I knew this because I lived in the worst neighborhood in town, and that was on the south side).

The back doors of the vans had a decal of a playing card—the ace of spades, with the curves of the symbol being the eyes of a skull, flames coming out the top, black rivulets (meant to denote blood? eek!) dripping from the bottom, spatter around it (again, blood?)—and next to it, it said Ace in the Hole Contracting.

That area between buildings also held a variety of Harleys parked in a line. This in front of the long, squat structure. Under the overhang that ran the front of that space were three (three!) barrel grills. Two picnic tables. A scattering of mismatched outdoor chairs with equally mismatched tables, almost all of which had empty beer bottles or cans or overflowing ashtrays or all three on top. And I could see there was a misting system built into the overhang to cool it down during hot Phoenix days, of which, that day was one, it was just that the mist wasn’t on right then.

The Aces High Motorcycle Club hangout.

Where I was heading because I was stupid.

Stupid and desperate.

“You’ve done this before, Clara, you’ve done it twice,” I told myself under my breath as I parked outside the building, next to the bikes. “You did it and you walked away. You’re fine. You’ll be fine. You’ll say what you have to say and then go. They’re not going to kill the messenger. Right?”

I said these words to convince myself I was going to be perfectly okay.

And, truth be told, this was actually one of the less dangerous messages Esposito had sent me out to deliver.

The Aces High Motorcycle Club owned this long stretch of property on which they had a large home improvement store, a larger warehouse, and this building.

They were well-known.

This was because it was Phoenix. A haven for bikers. A haven for badasses. And perhaps the last bastion of the Wild West.

I’d heard others who did not grow up there say they’d lived their whole lives going into places of business and not seeing a No Firearms Allowed sign on the door.

To me, that was shocking.

To them, seeing that sign was more shocking.

During my research at the library the day before, I’d pulled up a variety of stuff that included a couple of articles about the opening of a home improvement store run by a gang of bikers and how that was instantly popular.

How Aces High MC were “changing the face of the MC culture” by running two successful businesses (the store and the contracting) as a club.

How people, especially Phoenicians, found it cool to turn away from a chain store like Lowe’s or Home Depot and “shop local,” when that local shop was owned by bikers.

I’d also seen pictures of the members of the club, all rough-looking guys. But they were bikers, they were bound to look rough. It wasn’t like they were the kind to gussy up to have their picture taken for an article in a newspaper.

Or maybe they did gussy up and in real life, they were really rough.

Bottom line, I didn’t know much about bikers (at all), but I figured they were who they were and part of who they were was rough-looking.

But whatever they did behind the scenes, they had a very visible face. A woman couldn’t drive in broad daylight to their hangout and then disappear.

Unfortunately, no one but Esposito and Tia knew I was there.

If something happened to me, I doubted Esposito would care.

Tia would, but she wasn’t in a place to do anything about it.

This part was bad.

And try as I might, I couldn’t find good.

But I hadn’t had much good in a long time (say, since the moment I was born), so at least I was used to it.

I switched off the ignition, grabbed my purse and slung it over my shoulder. Then I exited my car hoping that the repo man wasn’t following me.

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Read Online Books/Novels:

(Wild West MC #1) Still Standing

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Kristen Ashley

English

B08NFDJWZJ

Kristen Ashley