Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84471 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 282(@300wpm)
“We didn’t make this world, we just live in it,” Skyhigh answers. “If we did half this shit in uniform, we’d get medals of honor. That’s how fundamentally fucked up the system is.”
I catch Dragon’s eye and give him a nod. In this, I think we’re more alike. Skyhigh has his demons, but he knows who he is and what he’s worth. Shit, he even still has parents he talks to sometimes. Dragon was fucking tossed away, and I might as well have been born in the accident that stole my past twelve years ago. How long before she sees us for what we really are and I that look in her eyes changes?
It might be easier to just let her live her life. But I’m too fucking selfish for that.
19
WILLOW
I've never written so much in one day. Colleen would be blown away if she'd seen me today. She might actually get the book she's waiting for if this continues.
And it's good. Sexy. Wild.
The only problem is that my male leads are getting a bit too rough for the genre I’m supposed to be writing in. According to her feedback, she still wants me to make them good guys, but do good guys act good all the time? Also, she thinks they swear too much.
The sex scenes, though… no notes.
Which is good, because every time I try to edit them, I have to practically read them through my fingers out of sheer embarrassment that I actually wrote something that dirty. And then I need some time for myself. It's a good thing the bedroom isn't far from my office, that's all I've got to say about that.
Even Blackout's blindfold made it into the story, though it was black silk instead of my tank top. On the other hand, improvising with the tools at hand is sexy too.
No, I can't rewrite—again.
Despite all the pauses and rethinking of the characters, I've got six new chapters ready for editing. Grace is going to be a busy girl when she gets it to read. And hopefully, Terry will be a very happy hubby. I giggle out loud, a little punch drunk after so many hours behind the keyboard.
Speaking of Grace, she's supposed to be here soon so we can check out the local biker bar together. I’ve driven past the Burnout dozens of times, but never set foot inside. I think it’s time to change that. In the name of research, of course.
And also? I think I need confirmation that the feelings I have for Blackout, Dragon and Skyhigh are actually about them. There's this voice in the back of my head asking if maybe it’s just the idea of sexy bad boys swooping into my life and carrying me off to do all sorts of dirty things to me. What if it had been someone else from the club? Or a different bike club altogether?
I don't think that’s the case, but this is a chance for both a girls' night out and for me to see what it’s like without my bikers. Not that they’re mine. But they kind of are, right?
I get dressed in an outfit similar to what I wore to the party the night of the shooting, but not showing quite as much skin since I don’t want people to get the wrong idea. With about five minutes to spare, my phone rings. Grace.
“Hey! I’m almost ready. Are you on your way over?”
“Lo, I have bad news.”
“What? Noooo. Come on, we haven't been out in forever. You have to come.”
She sighs, not sounding happy about it either. “I’m sorry. You know me, I would drag myself out no matter what, but Terry's exploding from both ends and my stomach doesn’t feel that great.”
“Eeeeeeeeww! Yeah, stay away. I love you, but not enough to want to clean up your vomit in a biker bathroom.”
She makes a horrible noise.
“I mean I would, obviously,” I clarify. “But I don’t want to.”
“It’s fine. I don’t want that either. Next time for sure, okay?” To be fair, she sounds really apologetic. “And you’ll wait for me, right? Don’t go there on your own.”
“Right. Of course not.” Maybe.
On the other hand, I'm already dressed and ready and the bar is only a couple of blocks away. It's a public place. I should be safe. And it's definitely valid book research. If my book actually gets out there, I can write this off on my taxes, even.
The whole walk there I feel guilty, and almost call the guys, but inviting them would defeat part of why I’m going.
Even by foot, it's only a couple streets down from the front gates of the Outlaw Sons compound. It's in an old strip mall, pulled back from the street, making room for a long line of motorcycles in front of it. The building is connected to storefronts on either side, but their windows are blacked out and the doors locked, so I guess they expanded? There's a neon sign over the entry that proclaims it open, and a beefy bouncer standing at the door, watching people entering and leaving like a hawk. Through the open door, cigarette smoke and hard rock seeps out into the night.