Generations of Rose Ridge

I was never meant to stay in Rose Ridge.

My father was the president of a notorious motorcycle club, so if something rattled him enough to request that I go, I should have listened.

In my defense, at the time, it seemed more terrifying to give up the only dream I ever had than to leave like everyone else.

I should have known that chasing that dream would lead back to the club, because everything in this town eventually did.

I wasn’t expecting to see a familiar face, glaring as usual, amidst the chaos surrounding the Stone Riders. For years, I had endured scowls, glares, and scoffs from Ford Ryan. However, there was something new and different about his heated stare, and even that oddly protective touch.

Something dangerous and addictive.

I should have left when I had the chance, because my proximity to Ford and the club meant I was close to danger. Even worse would be discovering exactly why Ford chose to stay when, out of all of us, he had every reason not to.