Beauty in It – Hellions Motorcycle Club Read Online Chelsea Camaron

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 74(@200wpm)___ 59(@250wpm)___ 49(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Beauty in It - Hellions Motorcycle Club

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Chelsea Camaron

Book Information:

Two broken people, one second chance together, this is a passion fueled ride … are you ready?

Life didn’t mean a thing for me before I patched into the Hellions Motorcycle Club.
The man I am today is a far cry from the troubled days of my youth.
I’m nobody who found out he is somebody when I earned my rocker. I am Channing “Hawk” Stevens.
My life is the club, and nothing, absolutely nothing, else matters.

I don’t remember how to breathe. I’ve lost all the beauty in life. I am Laura Marie Shell.
I was completely lost until I found a brand new me… and it’s all because he saved me from myself.

Their love was born in the nightmares. The friends become lovers when they learn to find beauty in the broken inside them both.
Books by Author:

Chelsea Camaron



“Be the same man on Sunday morning as you are on Saturday night. Saint or sinner don’t matter, be you, boy.” Gramps constant reminder

The hum of the oxygen machine sounds throughout the small space of our camper. Getting old sucks.

Watching someone you love grow old is a blessing and a curse.

Where would I be without him? Time has been kind in that he has been able to watch me grow from a boy to a man. The curse is as a man I have to endure watching my hero become feeble.

It’s been me and Gramps for as long as I can remember. As for any other family, I have none. I know I have a mom who took off when I was a baby and never once looked back. Hell, at this point in time, I don’t even know if she’s still alive. As Gramps tells me, when the cops show up with the need to contact next-of-kin then we will have answers, until then assume she’s good. Gramps has always preached at me like it’s a damn motto: you take shit as it comes and don’t borrow trouble worrying over the damn what ifs of the future.

Do I want her to be alive?

Frankly, I don’t give a damn. Sure, once upon a time I did, but I long ago gave up on those thoughts and dreams. I don’t know any kid who didn’t crave the love of their parents. As a man, I simply don’t give a fuck anymore. My give a damn broke with every birthday she wasn’t there as I blew out crooked candles because Gramps was a man of many talents but baking wasn’t one of them.

As for Grams, she passed away from pneumonia when I was still in diapers. Apparently we had a house back then. Keeping house, as the old man calls it, wasn’t something he had much time for with work and raising me so he downsized to the camper we have still today. Gramps has given me everything. He’s also put up with the years of rebellion where I thought being reckless made me a man.

Time is not kind when your loved ones age. It’s a process. One that absolutely sucks.

“Gotta sleep, boy,” he mutters from his bed in the back of the camper.

I’m on the table that folds down into a bed. My legs don’t fit stretched out anymore so I’m on my side curled up. I remember as a boy when this bed felt so big and this home seemed to be more than we needed. Now, as much as I hate to admit it, I simply don’t fit easily in the space anymore.

I sigh as the memories replay over in my mind. Year after year, getting taller as the space grew smaller. Every moment of my life is wrapped up in this rolling home. It feels as if I don’t watch my steps, the life I know will simply find some other road to take and roll right away from me.

If only I could sleep. Maybe then I could shut out the reality that my time with Gramps is limited.

Tomorrow I make the trip to Deals Gap, North Carolina. After two solid years prospecting the day to get my final rocker is almost here.

Except it doesn’t feel right leaving Gramps.

He’s been with me through everything. From teaching me to bait a hook, to driving a car and motorcycle, he’s always been the one guiding me. The man I am is absolutely because of him. I will never be able to repay him for the life he’s given me.

There is shuffling and I know he’s getting up on his walker in the tight space.

“Gramps,” I call out into the dark before hopping up from my bed and turning on the lights. “Let me help you,” I plead thinking he has to go to the bathroom or needs a snack.

“Sit your ass down, boy,” he orders and I promptly plant my ass right back on my bed.

I don’t care how old I get or how much I tower over the man, if I don’t listen, he will make sure he gets my attention one way or another.

“Gramps, I don’t mean to keep ya up.”

He gives me this half smile. The kind of smirk that causes his gold tooth to glisten under the yellow lights in the camper. “You got a big trip comin’. You’re feeling it, ol’ Gramps can’t be there. But, boy, you gotta do this.”

This is my grandfather plain and simple reading me like a book. “Just wish you could be there.”

“Channing, you ain’t never had a family.”

“Pshh,” I interject, “Gramps, you and me are family. That’s more than I ever could ask for.”

As a grown ass man, I know he could have turned me away. There isn’t a single doubt that my mom would have left me with the state. Foster home life would have been my life instead of the precious time with my Gramps.