Today, I'm sharing a sample from Bankrolled. It's a suspenseful story about a banker and a biker. Pre-order at lrd.to/Bankrolled
When Bo looked up, Imari’s gaze was fastened on her.
“Everything okay?”
She nodded, though she was suddenly uncomfortable, and
swallowed some Sprite. Bo didn't understand what was happening. Their
connection was too tenuous to be defined, but here she sat concerned over
misleading him. What was up with that?
Minutes later, Imari escorted her outside. When they sat in
the car, he switched on the engine and reversed from the parking spot. He
stopped, with his head cocked to one side.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“The car feels weird. Gimme a sec.”
Imari got out and walked to the back tire on her side. Then, he
stooped for a closer look.
A vicious swearword met her when she got out and rounded the
car. “What’s wrong?”
Imari's face cleared. “Just a flat.”
His reaction was a bit much, but she put it down to the
inconvenience. For the most part, Imari was calm, which was one of the things
she admired about him. She liked her men strong and in control of their
emotions.
Within fifteen minutes he’d changed the tire. As she sat next
to him again, he said, “I’ll come and get you later.”
She shook her head. “Don’t put yourself out of the way for
me.”
“That’s not what I’d be doing.”
She had her own agenda, so she patted his arm. “Trust me,
I’ll be okay. The clubhouse isn’t far from home. Darius will be okay to take
me.”
Imari glanced at her as if he didn’t believe her, but didn’t
respond.
In front of her house, Imari walked her to the door, pulling
her to him with one arm and kissing her to one side of her forehead. “Call me
later.”
Sliding both arms around his neck, she pecked him on the
mouth. “I will.”
She kissed his chin, opened the door, turned and caught him
watching the street. She didn’t remark on it, but it raised a question mark in
her mind.
“Inside.” His tone was gentle but firm.
She raised her brows. “This is my home, you know? I get to
call the shots here.”
“You just want to run things. Period.” Imari chuckled and
shook his head.
“Bye, Imari,” she said, letting him know he was dismissed.
He reeled her in by the back of her neck and planted another
one of those sizzling kisses on her.
When she was breathless and clinging to him, Imari stared her
in the eyes asserting his dominance. After one last searing kiss, he sauntered
down the walkway.
Cheeky bastard.
Knight of Penn Quarter by Terri Ann Johnson
