Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com Sat, 17 Jul 2021 00:58:59 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=7.0 http://www.ilovenovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.ilovenovels.com 32 32 Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC #9) Read Online Anne Malcom http://www.ilovenovels.com/three-kinds-of-trouble-sons-of-templar-mc-9-read-online-anne-malcom Sat, 17 Jul 2021 00:50:55 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/three-kinds-of-trouble-sons-of-templar-mc-9-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Biker, Crime, Dark, MC, Romance Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 111435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 557(@200wpm)___ 446(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Three Kinds of Trouble (Sons of Templar MC #9)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom Books
Language:	English
Book Information:
Should I tell you a story? Not a fairytale, mind you. There’s not a princess to be seen. Nor a prince. Not even a hero. This is about the stripper and the outlaw. Our story begins with the Sons of Templar MC, with a man even the outlaws fear. He was trouble. More than trouble. A scoundrel. A sinner. A villain. To everyone but me. Our story begins with blood, violence and pain. I have a feeling it will end that way too. But it’s too late for escape. I’ve fallen for the scoundrel. The sinner. The outlaw.Should I tell you a story? Not a fairytale, mind you. There’s not a princess to be seen. Nor a prince. Not even a hero. This is about the stripper and the outlaw. Our story begins with the Sons of Templar MC, with a man even the outlaws fear. He was trouble. More than trouble. A scoundrel. A sinner. A villain. To everyone but me. Our story begins with blood, violence and pain. I have a feeling it will end that way too. But it’s too late for escape. I’ve fallen for the scoundrel. The sinner. The outlaw.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

Chapter One

I’ve always attracted trouble.

My father, when he was sober enough to remember who I was, would always say, “Freya, you were put on this earth to create three kinds of trouble. Trouble for your parents. Trouble for whoever is unlucky enough to fall in love with you, and most of all, trouble for yourself.”

Though he might not have been the wisest man, nor the kindest or the soberest, my father always spoke the truth.

I didn’t try to attract trouble. In fact, I actively avoided it. But somehow, it found me. Like it had tonight.

With the man bleeding in front of me. From a stab wound.

A stab wound.

It wasn’t just any man bleeding from a stab wound, but one with a crapload of muscles and tattoos, wearing an unmistakable leather vest. They called it a cut, the bikers. The Sons of Templar.

After the night I’d had, after the life I’d had, I did not want to have to deal with a bleeding member of the Sons of Templar MC, but I couldn’t just leave him there bleeding, could I?

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, rushing over to the man currently hemorrhaging in the middle of the desolate parking lot. The parking lot outside the club was thankfully well lit, because our boss was actually decent and didn’t want us feeling unsafe while walking to our cars. Usually, there was someone available to walk us to our cars. Usually I was lucky enough not to finish my shift while Dante was still on the clock. Dante… an apt name for him since I was pretty sure he was spawned in the fires of hell.

As much as I despised the man and actually felt safer walking to my car when he wasn’t around, I would’ve even taken Dante right then. He might’ve been a misogynistic, narcissistic asshole, but he had enough self-preservation to know you didn’t fuck with the Sons of Templar. Plus, he would’ve wanted to be in their good books, since I’d heard a rumor that he’d tried to prospect with them and didn’t make the cut. Apparently, he was desperate for their approval, for a second chance. Watching him try to act cool and badass in front of them whenever they came into the club was a huge cringe-fest. So if Dante was here, he would’ve dealt with this, most likely banishing me from the scene because according to him, women couldn’t possibly deal with this kind of thing. And he wouldn’t want anyone possibly taking away whatever glory would come from saving a member of the club.

But Dante wasn’t there.

No one was there.

Just me.

Because I’d stayed at the club writing emails to friends all over the country, catching up on all the messages I’d mentally told myself to reply to later but then had forgotten all about. I’d also forgotten about the fact that Kallum was away, which meant he wouldn’t be there to stick around until everyone left, making sure every girl got home safely—which was a huge part of his job. I hadn’t been that worried about being there alone in the middle of the night. Our smallish town was pretty crime-free, thanks to the Sons of Templar. There had been some stuff that went down before I moved here, I’d heard about it in whispers. Apparently, almost the entire MC had been murdered by enemies. There had been some kind of war. It sounded intense and insane and completely fucking dangerous. I stayed away from all of that stuff.

Until now.

“Holy shit,” I whispered, dropping my purse and kneeling beside the lifeless man on the ground. The glaring overhead light showed the rapidly growing pool of blood underneath him and that his white tee was stained in the middle of his torso. My hand went to his chest, laying it flat there, holding my breath as I waited for it to rise and fall to show me he was still alive.

“Okay, you’re okay,” I said to him, blinking rapidly in the low light. “I’m just going to…” What was I going to do right now? The parking lot was eerily quiet, the area surrounding the club pretty much abandoned with the closest house being at least a mile away. Kallum had chosen this location so he wouldn’t get any noise complaints or trouble from residents who didn’t want a strip club near them. A very smart business idea. Apparently, he hadn’t planned for someone being stabbed or shot in the parking lot needing immediate medical attention.

There was no one around. No one but me and the man who was quite possibly dying in front of me. It felt like we were the only people left on the planet. God was playing a cruel fucking joke by giving this guy me in his hour of need. I did not do well under pressure. My hands were already shaking, my dinner already threatening to come up, my heart roaring in my ears. Yes, a full-on panic attack was imminent.

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Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8) Read Online Anne Malcom http://www.ilovenovels.com/scars-of-yesterday-sons-of-templar-mc-8-read-online-anne-malcom Sat, 28 Nov 2020 19:44:04 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/scars-of-yesterday-sons-of-templar-mc-8-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Erotic, MC, Romance Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 127390 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Scars of Yesterday (Sons of Templar MC #8)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom Books
Language:	English
Book Information:
The Sons of Templar MC. I'm sure you've heard of them. They're infamous. Murderers. Criminals. Outlaws. But to me, they're family. My husband wore the cut for well over a decade. For almost as long as he wore a wedding ring. Our marriage survived wars. Deaths. Blood. The cuts were deep. And they never healed quite right. But we survived. Until we didn't. He promised me forever. And he gave it to me. His version of it, at least. Mine was longer, though. Much longer. I wanted to blame the Sons for killing my husband, wanted to hate the club. The cut. But that was impossible. Especially when I found myself falling in love with another man wearing the same cut. Just when I thought there was nothing left in me to wound, he cut me the deepest.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

Prologue

This story doesn’t have a happy ending.

It’s better I tell you that now.

I’m a sucker for happy endings, there’s a romantic inside of me that has refused to die, even after all these years. Even after being married to a man who was patched in to one of the deadliest MCs in the country. There was nothing romantic about it, despite what popular culture likes to tell you.

Especially during those bloody years. Before the club steered in a more legitimate direction.

There were losses. Deep cuts that left me with my scars of my own. Wounds I helped my husband tend to. The husband who wore a Sons of Templar MC cut.

He was buried in that cut.

But that’s jumping to the end of the story before hearing about the beginning. Which is good. Because now you know what’s waiting for you at the end of this story.

You can make the choice to escape all of this pain, loss and grief. The choice I couldn’t make.

Part I

Before

Chapter 1

“Can I carry your books for you?”

I looked up and lost my breath.

He was standing there staring at me like such a request was commonplace. Like it was normal for Cody flipping Derrick to ask me, Lizzie Kirkpatrick, to carry her books.

And he didn’t even give me time to answer—like my answer would be anything but a dreamy yes once I regained the ability to speak. He just leaned forward, smelling like body spray and hair gel, and took them out of my arms.

Took my books out of my arms.

Our bare skin brushed for half a second, and my whole face warmed as I blushed. My whole body seemed to blush.

He grinned, flashing teeth that were white and almost straight if not for one crooked tooth making that smile something other than perfect.

Something beautiful.

“English next, right?” he asked.

Again, he didn’t give me time to answer, he just turned and walked in the direction of my English classroom. I was so shocked I just stood there, like an idiot, watching him walk away with an armful—and he had more than capable arms—of my books. He didn’t look back, of course. He was Cody flipping Derrick. He didn’t need to look back. Not with those burnt caramel eyes, those muscled arms, broad shoulders, and five o’clock shadow that he’d had for the past year. Though we were only a couple of months into his last year of school, he’d already turned eighteen.

I slammed my locker shut and jogged to catch up with him. Because of my slow reaction, we were already halfway to my English class which meant I’d wasted precious time.

Cody grinned at me as I fell into step with him. That grin. It was cheeky, genuine and hot as balls. Everything about him was hot as balls. He had really freaking good genes. He hadn’t gone through that awkward, teenage phase, all gangly limbs and acne. I knew that because I’d known Cody all my life, and I’d crushed on him since I could remember.

We were friends, even though he was one grade above me. Amber was a small town, and there were few kids our age, so most parties were a mishmash of about three different grades. There wasn’t exactly a hierarchy at our high school either. No ‘popular’ kids, jocks or nerds. No cliques. People were raised different here, maybe.

“You look pretty today,” Cody said as I walked beside him mutely, trying to figure out something to say.

His words hit me almost as hard as the sideways glance he sent me. The one that made my insides all melty. A good quarter of the girl’s hearts at this school were his because of that melty look. The other three quarters were spread amongst Cade Fletcher, Brock and Zane—despite the fact that Zane and Laurie had been going steady since forever.

They were all in my grade, and Laurie was one of my closest friends, which meant I was around Zane, Brock and Cade a lot. Zane only had eyes for Laurie, but Brock and Cade had eyes for everyone.

They did not seem like they had any interest in going steady with anyone, working their way through the beautiful girls in our school.

I’d never really considered myself beautiful. Cute? Sure. But my boobs hadn’t seemed to have gotten the memo that I was a young woman, I had too many freckles, and my hair was a dirty kind of blonde that couldn’t be described as anything but plain.

I was good with makeup. Skilled at adding a light touch that emphasized my eyes and lips, my two best features. I loved fashion, and I’d gone through all sorts of phases in high school, usually inspired by movies or books I was reading at the time. I was currently in my Edie Sedgwick phase, so today I was wearing a swing dress and over the knee boots. My earrings almost touched my shoulders.

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Battles of the Broken Read online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #6) http://www.ilovenovels.com/battles-of-the-broken-6-read-online-anne-malcom Thu, 24 Jan 2019 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/battles-of-the-broken-6-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Crime, Dark, MC, Romance Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 156796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 784(@200wpm)___ 627(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Battles of the Broken (Sons of Templar MC #6)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
Book Information:
Souls are interesting things. Not something you can prove you possess. Not something that can be measured, like a heartbeat. But something that can be destroyed by the absence of a heartbeat. No, you cannot prove you possess a soul. But once that soul dies, there doesn't need to be proof that you don't have one. Once that blackened pit opens inside you, the world can see it. The world cowers from it. Gage knew this because his soul was long gone. He was glad to be rid of it. He was filled with depraved satisfaction that he could make the world cower from him. That he could burn the world to the ground and he didn't have anything—like a soul or a conscience—to stop him. Until her. The woman who proved to him that she had a soul. That he might have something left of his. The woman who tricked the world, blinded it to the truth. Hid expertly what was broken and ruined inside her. Though he was about to prove that there was nothing more broken than him. No one more broken. He'd prove that by destroying them both.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

Prologue

“You can’t leave me, I love you.”

Her tears did nothing to him. Nor did the pain in her voice. It was music to his broken soul.

“I love heroin,” he replied, yanking his arm out of her poisonous grasp. “Doesn’t mean it’s good for me. Doesn’t mean it won’t destroy me. If I let it.”

He stepped back and she tried to scuttle forward but he raised his gun to her forehead. She stopped immediately because she might’ve been crazy, but she knew him well enough to know that he didn’t raise his piece unless he planned on using it.

“I’m not lettin’ you destroy me,” he said.

He was doing a fine job of that himself.

“I won’t let you leave me, you can’t,” she hissed, straightening her spine, the words a meager threat.

He laughed. The sound was empty and cold. “I can and I am. You try to follow me, I’ll kill you,” he promised. “Just like I did your fucked-up family.”

Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

His steps were measured, even, and didn’t even pause at the screeches, threats, and pleads hurled at his back.

It might’ve looked like he was walking away, but he was fucking running.

He didn’t run from shit.

Shit ran from him.

He made sure of that.

Physically, at least.

If you wanted to get into all that emotional, psychobabble bullshit, then yeah, he ran. From himself. From those fucking demons knocking at his skull, licking at his heels.

They weren’t literal, those demons.

Couldn’t tear through his flesh like a bullet, break bones like a fist, or nick an artery like a blade.

But they could kill him.

Though only if he stopped running.

So he didn’t.

To make up for being a pussy in his own mind, he didn’t run from shit in the real world. Or whatever this was where he lived now.

No, he didn’t run from a thing. Not danger. Fuck, he chased that shit, craved it like he used to crave the needle. Like he still craved the needle. He wasn’t a recovering addict, if you wanted to get technical—he’d just traded one substance for another. Poison in a syringe for death, pain, blood, violence. His cut. His brothers. The ones he’d die for. The ones he’d kill for. And though they didn’t know it, the ones who kept him alive—if that’s what he was.

But something changed in LA when shit went down.

He did run.

From a fucking woman.

Because she was batshit crazy.

Even crazier than him.

He had a code—he didn’t kill women, not if he could avoid it, at least. But this one was gunning to kill him if he stayed in LA. So he didn’t.

And then he found her.

The woman who might just kill him.

Not literally.

No, the woman who would make him stop running, in more ways than one.

And maybe his demons wouldn’t catch him.

But they’d catch her.

One

Gage

He didn’t save damsels.

He was likely to fuck them, then go on his not-so-merry way—if he was feeling like dipping his candle in that particular wick. He usually wasn’t. Damsels were innocent, and he didn’t do innocence. He fucked woman who were too far gone for redemption so he only damned them further. Made sure he wasn’t the reason their soul was tarnished.

He was fucked up. Some might say cold, calculating, and some might even call him a psychopath—and fuck, maybe they were right—but he wasn’t about to wreck something that wasn’t already broken.

Hence the reason he didn’t save damsels.

His brothers did. Though you wouldn’t say a lot of those women needed saving. Not if you liked your balls attached to your body. Gage quite liked the location of his balls, so he kept quiet on that score.

Even if they didn’t need saving, the women his brothers ended up with—who they happily handed their balls over to—were something special. Some of them were a little broken—he thought of Bex—and some of them were a lot broken, but none of them were beyond redemption.

Gage had made his peace with the fact that he wasn’t going to get what those men had a long time ago. Fuck, he didn’t want it. He’d had it once. A version of it, anyway. The most beauty he’d ever hold in his hands. Then he’d turned himself into… whatever he was now after it broke him. After he broke her.

And every single one of his days was tainted, blackened and bloodied because of that.

No fucking way he’d invite any human—any fucking woman—into that wasteland.

So he found the ones who’d already experienced a brutal reality of one form or another. Ones who were so jaded that even he couldn’t hurt them anymore.

He fucked them. Hard. Brutal. In ways only a certain kind of woman—a broken one—could handle. Then he left before the rubber even hit the trash can.

Not exactly decent of him, but he wasn’t decent, so he didn’t give a fuck.

So his thoughts on damsels were what crossed his mind the second he saw one stumbling down a deserted road outside of Amber in the middle of the night.

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Beyond the Horizon Read online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #4) http://www.ilovenovels.com/beyond-the-horizon-4-read-online-anne-malcom Tue, 13 Nov 2018 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/beyond-the-horizon-4-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, MC, Romance Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 102177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Beyond the Horizon (Sons of Templar MC #4)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
Book Information:
Life is counted in tiny breaths, ones that measure the length of your existence. Life stole the ability to make those breaths easy when Lily was nine years old. Turned her quiet. Made her curl into herself, and shut out a world that threatened to bury her under its weight. The end of her world is what brings him back—her biker. His chocolate eyes pierce her soul while his club tempts her with a life that she didn’t know she could ever have. Especially not when she was clutching the tattered remains of her existence, and with a weight bearing down on her which makes her unfit for the role of Old Lady. Asher changes that. He wants to set about repairing it, repairing her and her broken world. The problem is, even his strong shoulders can’t carry the burden of her sorrow. Asher doesn’t take no for an answer. She may have given him her heart three years ago, but never in her wildest dreams would she imagine she had possessed his for the same amount of time. Just when it seems like she may be able to ride off into the horizon, the world isn’t quite finished trying to rob her of breath. Of life.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

I yanked the covers over my head the moment my alarm jolted me out of a troubled sleep.

“Ten,” I whispered.

Ten seconds was all I was giving myself. All the time I was allowed to shut out the outside world.

“Nine.”

I hated mornings. Loathed them. I wasn’t someone who hopped out of bed every day with vigor. I dragged my sorry and cranky ass out, every morning.

“Eight.”

For as long as I could remember, I’d never woken up without the ear-splitting ringing emitting from my phone.

“Seven.”

I wasn’t one of those people that got to lie in. That got lazy Sunday mornings. That got to decide not to get out of bed and spend the day binge watching their favorite television shows.

“Six.”

No. I had responsibilities. People depended on me. Well, a person depended on me. I depended on me. Without me, we didn’t eat. Without me dragging my sorry ass out of bed every damned morning, we wouldn’t survive. Bills would go unpaid. Electricity would get cut off.

“Five.”

But this morning was different. I wasn’t dragging myself to the coffee pot then off to school, the hospital or the bar. No.

“Four.”

I was going to a funeral.

“Three.”

My mom’s funeral.

“Two.”

The person that depended on me. The person I had taken care of for the past two years. For the past sixteen years. My person.

“One,” I choked out, not letting the tears strangle me. My body already did its best to rob me of breath, I didn’t need the sorrow of my soul doing it too.

I threw the covers back and stared at the ceiling for a split second, embracing the detachment, the feeling of nothingness. Numbness had spread over my body since I got the call. Since that detached, emotionless voice on the phone informed me of my mother’s passing. It had been expected I guess, but in that vague, it’ll never actually happen type way. She’d been sick. For just over three years, she’d battled cancer. I mean battled. Fought with every fiber of her being, not only the disease but the poison they put in her body to try and cure it. The poison that hadn’t cured a thing. She had put it in her body for me, even though she didn’t believe in it. She had tried every alternative medicine, every other solution until I pleaded with her to let medicine save her. I had been convinced it would. It might have given her more time, given me more time, but it had also sucked every inch of strength out of my strong mother before it let the disease win in the end.

And even though the doctors had continuously told me with a clinical detachment that she was living on borrowed time, I never believed it. I’d held back her hair through the sickness of chemo, taught her how to tie a jaunty headscarf when her long locks fell out, changed and bathed her when needed, but I never let myself consider the real reasons for these things. Never let myself think of the evil disease that was slowly taking my mother from me. And it did. A demon in the night, death came and stole her away before I could even say goodbye. She died alone. Without me.

I sat up and pushed myself out of bed, my body having that tingly feeling when numbness starts to subside and pricks of pins and needles threaten to bring feeling back. That first prick of pain shocked me, it was an omen of the agony that awaited me. That I’d been running from.

I froze, standing in the middle of my bedroom. It was decorated as well as one could with little to no funds. In one corner sat a cheap wooden desk with coffee rings serving as an unintended pattern on the surface. Forgotten textbooks were crammed into a bookshelf beside it. Brochures and printouts of alternative cancer treatments littered the surface. Mismatched frames crowded the walls, pictures of Mom and me throughout the years. I couldn’t look at those. By recognizing all that I had left of her was images in a frame, it would make it real. I wasn’t ready for real. I continued my sightless gaze of my room. My old ottoman in the corner was a find at one of Mom’s favorite vintage stores, the patchwork pattern almost invisible since it was buried underneath clothes. Fairy lights draped around my uncomfortable bed, in an effort to lighten up my space. Somehow trick me into thinking it was better than it was. A huge mural took up half the wall behind my bed. A beautiful vibrant sunset, every color you could think of dancing in the rays. My mom had painted it on one of her good days. It almost looked real, like you could step through it to some magical and better world beyond. That was until you looked, with cynical eyes like mine and saw the crumbling wall beneath it. It was just paint. There was nothing beyond it.

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Dauntless Read online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #5) http://www.ilovenovels.com/dauntless-5-read-online-anne-malcom Mon, 12 Nov 2018 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/dauntless-5-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, MC, Romance Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130758 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 654(@200wpm)___ 523(@250wpm)___ 436(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Dauntless (Sons of Templar MC #5)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
Book Information:
This isn’t a fairy tale. I’ll save you the trouble by telling you that now. This is the tale of a girl who spent her life bouncing around foster homes, who had her innocence stolen in the darkness before she knew it was something that could be lost. Her demons followed her everywhere, after that night. They chased her to the medical school she dropped out of, to the strip club she sold herself in, and finally caught her in a river of sin where they tried to drown her. My name is Bex and this is my story. I’m paddling, barely keeping my head above water. And even though I’m submerged, I’ll never be clean. The layer of dirt that has clung to me since birth is a tattoo I’ll wear for life. He can’t see it, though. Even when I’m torn and tattered, and left in pieces, he wades into the filth to try to put those pieces back together. He doesn’t seem to understand there’s nothing left to repair. To love. Just sullied fragments of a damned soul. He’s willing to damn himself in order to exact revenge on those who sent me to the pit. Problem is, my name is at the top of that list, since I not only damned my own soul, but his too. Contains dark subject matter and potential triggers ***Can be read as a standalone
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

Prologue

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

Everyone measures time differently; the most common, of course, is hours, minutes, years, days. People count the days until weekend, until their next holiday, the moment they can sink onto a sofa after a long day. That’s what life is, a big yawning expanse of time, and we find different ways to measure it along the way. Pass it. Find ways to distract ourselves from the grim reality of mortality.

I say we. I mean they. It’s tempting to include myself in the proverbial we, to give myself at least the illusion of belonging. But I don’t have time for illusions. For euphemisms.

They measured time like that. I didn’t. Ever since I was old enough to grasp the concept, I understood I was different. My mind never thought in those terms, searching for a yardstick to measure my existence. I was too busy trying to survive. I lived in the present, the moment. I had to. The luxury of daydreams or plans for the future meant getting lost in my own head. Being more vulnerable than I already was.

That’s my long-winded way of saying I had a less-than-stellar childhood, where I had to be on the ball if I wanted to stay alive. If that’s what it was back then.

In this yawning tunnel of the present I’ve found myself in for most of my life, there was a time when I did venture tentatively into the future. Made plans. Dreams.

Then it was all shot to shit.

I couldn’t tell you, not even an estimate, on the amount of time I’d been in the damp concrete matchbox with a prison-style bed and steel bucket serving as the only décor. The rusty handcuff on my wrist served as my only accessory. I mean only; nothing else covered my body. The rough cotton sheet scratched my bruised skin when I huddled under it for warmth.

Hours. Days. Weeks. Months, even. It was possible. I couldn’t say. I also couldn’t say how long it had been since I’d eaten, showered.

I was measuring time differently now.

The next hit.

There was no such thing as the passing of the sand in the hourglass. The rising or setting of the sun. Only the yawning chasm of loneliness and despair between now and my next fix.

It had been a while, I knew. Too long. A thin layer of sweat covered my body, despite the chill in the air. My heart thumped in my chest, the beats seeming to hasten with every passing second. I had been deprived of my medicine, my escape, once before, and I knew it wouldn’t be too long until I was hunched over that bucket, sick from not getting what I needed.

Dying. Convinced I was, anyway.

I sat on my hands, the only way to stop from picking at my skin. My eyes were glued on the steel door in the corner of the room. Not so I could devise an escape plan, but willing it to open, for my next fix to be on the other side. That was the only escape I needed.

A murky memory surfaced as I distractedly hummed a long-forgotten lullaby.

“You’re stronger than this,” he told me, his voice serious and soft.

“Than what?” I half hissed, aware that my voice was far from soft.

He stepped forward, cupping my chin in his hand, choosing to ignore the way my body stiffened at the contact. “Than letting some demon have control over your body, like your skin is merely a vehicle, an empty vessel,” he said, eyes blazing.

I blinked, his words jabbing me like tiny spears. Anger bubbled up from the cauldron it had been simmering in. Not because he was wrong—because he was right. That was the problem. For someone who seemed so obtuse, he knew far too much. Saw far too much.

“You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” I snapped.

With a tilt of his head and a hardening of those hazel eyes, he saw. Saw it all. “I know what it’s like to have the monkey on your back, to feel the need not to fill the void in your soul but disguise it.” His hand tightened on my chin. “I may not know everything, as much as I’d like to think I do. But I at least know that. I also know what beauty is. True beauty. Mostly ’cause I’m staring straight at it. I know there’s nothing I can ultimately do to make sure that beauty don’t get tainted with ugly. That’s up to you. What I can do is remind you that you’re more. More than you think you are. A fuck of a lot more,” he declared.

I blinked at him. His words struck a chord deep within me. Maybe it was because no matter how hard I tried to deny it, I felt something for him. Maybe it was because it was unnerving to see him so serious, not a glint of joking in his hazel eyes. Whatever it was, in that second, that moment, I believed him.

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Deadline to Damnation Read online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #7) http://www.ilovenovels.com/deadline-to-damnation-7-read-online-anne-malcom Tue, 20 Mar 2018 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/deadline-to-damnation-7-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Biker, Dark, MC, Thriller Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 134057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 670(@200wpm)___ 536(@250wpm)___ 447(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Deadline to Damnation (Sons of Templar #7)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
Book Information:
My life is about the story. I've risked my life for it. Many times. I chase the story so I can escape having to face my own. But this one is different. This story will make my career. My life. Or it will end it. The Sons of Templar MC. The most notorious and dangerous outlaw motorcycle club in the country. And I'm going to get the scoop. Or I'll die trying.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

Chapter One

“Do you trust me?” he asked, holding out his hand.

I took it without hesitation. Everything I did with Liam was without hesitation.

He grinned, teeth white and straight, smile melting my heart the exact same way it had in the halls of Castle Springs High School two years ago.

He glanced down at the twinkling water below us, then back to me, his eyes carved emeralds. They were brighter when he was happy. They almost glowed now. Especially when they run up and down my swimsuit-clad body.

I blushed under the heat of his gaze. The knowing. And he did know my body. Every inch. Since he’d taken my virginity six months ago and treated it like a gift. Treated me like a gift. A treasure.

“You want me to go first, wait for you below, or you want to take the leap with me?”

Again, there was no hesitation. “I want to take the leap with you.”

Something moved in his eyes, they brightened, with the mischievous glint that he was known for as a teenage boy. But something else, something that belonged on the face of a man. Which was what he was turning into. His lean muscles were bulking up. His face was getting sharper, more straight edges. And then there was the way he made me feel like a woman. Only a man could do that.

His grip tightened on my hand as he yanked me in, kissing me brutally and beautifully. I melted in his arms.

His eyes were dark when he pulled back, dark with a man’s desire. He glanced down to my bikini again. With hunger.

My stomach flipped. And it had nothing to do with the cliff we were about to hurl ourselves off of.

“Ready?” he murmured.

“Always,” I whispered back.

Then we jumped.

Together.

“Why are you doing this?” I demanded, ripping myself from his arms. Something I’d never done before, his arms were the place I’d live forever if I could.

Where I’d planned to live forever.

Until he told me his plans.

Plans that he’d made without telling me. While promising us a future. While we talked about our marriage, made a blueprint for an entire lifetime. He was making those promises to me while making life-changing decisions without me.

Decisions that would take him to a war half a world away, without a promise of return.

“Because it’s something I have to do, babe,” he said, voice hard. I’d never heard it like that before. “You know that.”

“No, I don’t know anything!” I screamed. I’d never screamed at him before. “I thought I knew you. Knew us. And now you want to take yourself away from everything to fight in a war that isn’t even yours?”

Those hard edges I’d noticed in the softness of today sharpened even more. Sharp enough to cut. There was no boy from today left. “It is my war,” he replied. “And yours.” He paused, running his hands through his hair as he did when he was frustrated. It was silky, long. I loved to run my fingers through it. It’d be short, gone like the boy of today when the army shaved off his hair and his youth. I took it all in. The hair. The emerald eyes, his handsome, breathtaking face. The one that stole all the girl’s hearts at school, but the one who’d only been focused on me.

And he’d never looked at me like this before. With this hardness. With something missing. He was detaching himself from me. Already. The decision was made. Cold terror washed over me. I’d been so confident of the control I had over my life, blissfully happy, wandering around town with a small but heavy diamond on my finger and love in my heart. I’d never had a reason to guard my happiness, I’d grown up in a good family who nurtured me, I hadn’t experienced hardship or real tragedy. I saw it, on TV, in other people, so I knew it existed, but I was stupid enough to think it wasn’t going to happen to me. I was used to clear blue sky. I forgot that storms existed.

“You knew I was going to enlist,” he said finally.

I shook my head rapidly, calling up snatches of conversation where he’d mentioned the army casually, without any commitment. “No, I knew that you got into Harvard. Full scholarship. I knew you’re the smartest person in the room, and that you’re going to be somebody. I knew we had plans to go to colleges close together, to live together when we were done. Take on the world. I didn’t know you were going to throw it all away.” I paused, tears prickling the backs of my eyes. “I didn’t know you were going to throw us away,” I choked out.

The naïve happiness of our day was a faint memory and I felt like I’d never be happy again like I had been in that moment. When the future was as cloudless as the sky above us and as clear as the water we’d jumped into.

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Making the Cut Read Online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #1) http://www.ilovenovels.com/making-the-cut-1-read-online-anne-malcom Sun, 15 May 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/making-the-cut-1-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Erotic, MC Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 145606 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 728(@200wpm)___ 582(@250wpm)___ 485(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Making the Cut (Sons of Templar MC #1)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
Characters:	Gwen Alexandra
Book Information:
Gwen Alexandra does not need a man in her life. Especially not a man who looks like Chris Hemsworth and Joe Manganiello's love child. One wearing leather, riding a Harley, and covered in tattoos. Gwen can bet every pair of her Manolo's that Cade Fletcher is trouble. From the moment she meets him, the attraction sizzles between them. Gwen has a problem when it comes to attractive men in motorcycle clubs. The last one she got involved with almost killed her. After healing physically, Gwen decides to get a new start in a small town, half a country away from the man who nearly cost her her life. She isn't in town five minutes when she runs into Cade, a man that is too sexy and dangerous for his own good. She tries to keep away from him, to ignore the attraction between them. But the biker has other ideas, soon she is in way over her head. Her heart, and her life are in danger once again.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

PROLOGUE

I remember back when I was in high school, I was goofing around with some of my friends on a playground. Wine and vodka were involved. Thanks to liquid courage — or liquid stupidity — I walked along the top of a jungle gym. In heels. I fell and broke my arm so badly the bone stuck out of the skin, and no amount of alcohol could anesthetize that. I thought that five minutes before I passed out was the most horrific pain I would ever experience, I was wrong. Now I knew there was a kind of pain so terrible it almost made you want to die. I wanted to live though, as enticing as oblivion was. I was fighting hard against the blackness that beckoned me.

“Oh Gwennie, I will miss you. It seems like such a shame to let you go to waste, but you had to disobey me, then you tried to run. Not very smart.” He shook his finger at me as if scolding a child. “But you did, you saw what you shouldn’t have so now you have to go. But not before we’ve had some fun with you.”

I couldn’t believe the vile words coming out of his mouth, the violence that had emerged from the man I thought I knew. The man I thought I loved. He circled me, perusing me coldly. I didn’t know where this creature had come from. It lurked underneath the chiseled jaw, the messy auburn hair and the bright green eyes. The sculpted muscles that I had found so enticing were being used to inflict pain on me; the tattoos I thought were sexy were mocking me every time they flew past my face for a punch.

The other men laughed. One of them kicked me viciously, a sharp sting erupted in my side. My stomach started to feel weirdly full. The phrase ‘internal bleeding’ vaguely floated into my mind. I didn’t make a sound, but silent tears streamed down my cheeks.

“Got nothing to say Gwennie? Funny, I never could get you to shut that smart mouth. I should’ve smacked you around more often,” he mused, peering at me the way a fox watches its prey.

“Fuck you, Jimmy,” I whispered, my throat raw and dry from screaming.

He pulled out a long knife from his belt and crouched down beside me. His attractive face was marred with a sick smile.

“No baby, fuck you. Which is exactly what me and the boys are going to do, and after everyone has had their turn, I’m going to fuck you with this knife.”

He ran the long blade against my throat. I should have felt a sting because blood trickled down my neck. But I felt nothing. The pain that near crippled me seemed to be floating away; my body was light and weightless.

“I think I’ll go first, one for the road, eh Gwennie?” His accent caressed my name in a sick taunt.

My heart was beating furiously as I watched him undo his belt. The other monsters settled in for the show. He viciously seized my head and thrust his tongue in my mouth. I bit down as hard as I could, feeling satisfaction at the grunt of pain that came from the asshole’s throat.

“BITCH!” he yelled, punching me in the face.

My head cracked off the concrete, white spots danced across my vision. It wasn’t the first time I had been punched.

He grasped my head again and spoke in a soft tone. “Try that again, I’ll put this knife through your spine.”

I met his emotionless gaze with determination and spat in his face. He laughed, slowly wiping his cheek before sucking on his finger. He thrust my legs open, and I tried to struggle but my movements were slow, groggy. I wanted to fight, I had to fight harder than this, but my body was betraying me.

“I’m going to enjoy this, much more than when you were willing, this is more interesting, no matter how good you were in the sack,” he whispered in my ear.

I barely acknowledged him, feeling consciousness starting to leave me. I knew that this was it, I was going to die, I couldn’t fight it anymore. I just wished that I would drift away before he violated me.

“Go to hell,” I croaked, my parting shot.

Suddenly, the doors crashed open. “Police, freeze!” multiple voices yelled.

I must be dreaming, this is too good to be true.

Gunfire filled the air. Jimmy jumped up, firing shots in every direction. I watched as one by one, my captors collapsed, bullets peppering their bodies. Jimmy, the cockroach, struggled with the officers cuffing him, escaping the bloodbath unharmed. My vision blurred at the edges. The darkness that threatened to engulf me drew stronger.

No I can’t die now, I thought desperately.

“Ma’am, stay with me.” An officer filled my vision, taking off his jacket to cover me. “You’re safe now. Paramedics are on the way, I just need you to stay awake.”

I tried, I really did. I tried to fight the force pulling my eyelids down, but it won and everything went black.

CHAPTER ONE

“When is she going to wake up? It’s been over a week!” demanded a desperate voice.

“When it comes to brain injuries we have no certainties, and your sister’s body was badly beaten, she needs time to heal,” a woman’s voice responded calmly.

I tried to open my eyes but they felt like they were glued shut; I couldn’t move my body. I started to panic. Was I paralyzed? Please God don’t let me be paralyzed. I put all of my effort into trying to force my eyes open, they didn’t seem to want to comply. I gave that up and tried to move my mouth, make some kind of sound to alert the people around me that I was awake. But I couldn’t, my body didn’t want to obey me. My panic grew as I realized I was trapped in my own body, unable to control it. I couldn’t think of anything else before the darkness claimed me again.

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Firestorm Read Online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #2) http://www.ilovenovels.com/firestorm-2-read-online-anne-malcom Sat, 14 May 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/firestorm-2-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Erotic, MC Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 111229 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Firestorm (Sons of Templar MC #2)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
Book Information:
Amy Abrams doesn’t do love. Nor does she do emotional attachments, unless you count the connection she has with designer handbags. She grew up in an Upper East Side penthouse, which had about as much affection within its tastefully decorated walls as Castle Dracula. Her family is the precise reason why she points her red-soled heels firmly in the opposite direction of that dreaded four-letter word. Then it happens. Love. It comes right out of the blue and knocks her off her six-inch heels. She learns that love comes with pesky side effects such as heartbreak, which seriously messes with the complexion. Amy promises herself that she’ll never open herself to that horrible feeling again. She doesn’t count on an infuriating, albeit drool-worthy biker to roar into her life and ruin the plans she had of locking up her heart. She keeps her distance, wary of the sinfully sexy biker whose tattoos should read Warning - dangerous alpha male, will screw up your life. Amy may be an Upper East Side princess but she wasn’t looking for Prince Charming. She wouldn’t mind the name of his hair stylist, though. Brock certainly isn’t a knight in shining armor, but he consumes her, body and soul. Drama pulls them apart; danger will bring them back together. When Amy is threatened Brock is there ready to save her life. Her heart is another story.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

PROLOGUE

GWEN

I watched my baby girl sleep peacefully with my hand on her chest, the rise and fall of her breathing giving me a sense of calm. I was pretty sure I had the most beautiful child on the planet. Considering I had the most beautiful husband on the planet it wasn’t a surprise. Though if Cade knew I was calling him beautiful he would have something to say about that. The sentence would most likely include profanities. To me, my rough, badass biker was nothing short of beautiful. He had provided me with an amazing life, brought me back from some dark places and made me feel safe and cherished. Not to mention gave me the best orgasms I’d had in my life. Like the one he had given me an hour ago on the kitchen table.

A spluttering sound interrupted my sex flashback.

I narrowed my eyes and focused on Belle; she was still sleeping but she was making a weird sound. Was that normal? Shit, I didn’t know. Maybe my baby wasn’t sleeping peacefully; maybe that splutter was a symptom of some obscure life-threatening disorder. I pulled out my phone, almost hyperventilating.

Since I had already called Mum twice today I didn’t think I could disturb her again. Plus it was two a.m. at home. I would call her if Belle didn’t stop making that noise. It was freaking me out. I hadn’t been around babies. I didn’t know what were normal sounds and what weren’t. I put my phone to my ear, needing to be calmed down, or at least distracted.

“Hey, this is Amy. Text me. If I don’t reply it means I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Fuck,” I whispered.

Since I was desperate, I made a risky call.

“Good afternoon, Abrams residence,” a brisk voice greeted.

“Um hi, could I please speak to Amy?” I asked quietly, keeping an eagle eye on my daughter.

There was a pause. “Miss Abrams? Whom may I ask is calling?”

“This is Gwen Alexandra...no wait, Fletcher. I mean, my last name used to be Alexandra, then I got married so I changed it to Fletcher. It’s a new name I’m not used to it yet,” I babbled, my lack of sleep catching up on me.

“One moment.”

I relaxed. Well, slightly. I frowned down at Belle. She wasn’t making the noises anymore; she was quiet. Too quiet. Was that a thing? I was pretty sure babies weren’t meant to be that still.

“Gwenevere?”

My attention snapped back to the phone. Amy never called me by my full name; only my family and one other person called me that.

“Mrs. Abrams? So sorry to bother you, I was expecting Amy.”

I was sure I asked the maid for Amy. Maybe I didn’t. My mind was mush. Existing on coffee and orgasms was not a good long-term plan, but was necessary when you had a two-month-old daughter and a sex god for a husband.

“Oh yes, Vera informed me you were looking for Amy. I wanted to let you know she isn’t here. I haven’t seen her for months,” her cultured voice informed me.

That shocked me out of my freak-out. “Months?” I repeated. That couldn’t be right.

“Why yes, we both know Amy isn’t too fond of communicating with her mother unless she is forced. In fact, she actively changes her phone number whenever she becomes aware I have it.” Katherine’s voice dripped with disdain.

I resisted a giggle at this. It was true; Amy routinely changed her number in the past in order to avoid talking to her mother. Now she just had two separate phones; one ‘safe’ and one she specifically bought to communicate with her family. And only when she was faced with no other option. Her cold relationship with Katherine had always made me sad, which was why I had been shocked when she had told me she was staying there.

“But that’s not possible. Amy told me she was staying with you. She left for Europe right after my wedding. She got back two weeks ago, and said she was staying with you and Harold in the city,” I explained, getting a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Katherine laughed without humor. “I’m sorry, my darling, we both know my daughter has an aversion to the truth. I wouldn’t worry. She’s probably sunning herself on some pop star’s yacht and forgot she was meant to be back at home facing responsibility. Although I don’t recall her making arrangements to come here,” she added thoughtfully. “I must go, I’m late to a charity luncheon. Lovely talking to you, Gwenevere.” She hung up before I could say anything else.

My stomach churned. No matter what Amy’s vile mother said about her, Amy wasn’t irresponsible and she certainly wasn’t a liar. I automatically thought about the one and only time my best friend had kept something from me. A lance of pain ripped through my stomach.

She hadn’t told me about her and Ian. About being in love with my brother. Finding out she had kept it a secret, I took it a little bad. Okay, a lot bad since I tackled her on our front lawn. But when I got used to the idea I was happy, ecstatic for them both. Then things got complicated. Brock, the biker badass who rocked a serious man bun, got Amy twisted up enough to question her relationship with Ian. Not that I could get much out of her. But I knew Ian had been determined to get her back. I was pretty sure his decision to finish out his tour was largely to do with her.

My eyes glistened thinking about what would have been had he not been...killed. I still couldn’t say it. I could barely think it. My brother was dead. My best friend was heartbroken and she wouldn’t talk to me about it, no matter how hard I tried.

Plus, there was something going on with her and Brock. The months we had been back in Amber she refused to talk about it. They didn’t talk to each other apart from some broody alpha male looks Brock had directed at Amy when fate put them in the same room. I had been sidetracked with my reunion with Cade and my growing belly, so I didn’t give her the attention she needed. Then Belle was born in the clubhouse after I killed a man who was going to kill me and drama ensued. Life hadn’t exactly slowed down for me.

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Outside the Lines Read Online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #2.5) http://www.ilovenovels.com/outside-the-lines-read-online-anne-malcom Sat, 14 May 2016 01:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/outside-the-lines-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Erotic, MC Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 38104 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 191(@200wpm)___ 152(@250wpm)___ 127(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Outside the Lines (Sons of Templar MC #2.5)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
ISBN/ ASIN:	B01BQ53KAE
Book Information:
My life’s not easy. I’ll tell you that now. It’s not neat. I don’t fit into society the way most people expect me to and I don’t color studiously between the lines, outside the lines is where I reside. The fringes of society is where I found my place, with the Sons of Templar MC. The life they lived gave me everything I wanted, and everything I needed. Most importantly, it gave me something I’d been lacking for over a decade—family. A place to belong. Club girl—that was my title. There were other words for what I was, but I preferred the less derogatory version. Sure, I’d love to be an Old Lady. It’s the dream. But, as someone who escaped into fantasy worlds when life got too much, I knew the difference between dreams and reality. I had resigned myself to the fact, I’d always belong to the club. It didn’t mean I didn’t crave one man in particular to claim me. To put me on the back of his bike and ride off into the sunset with the man who’d captured my heart the first day I saw him—Hansen. The dream where he’d finally see me and make me his, existed strictly in Macy’s world of wonder. Until now. Until somehow my fantasy world and reality world collided and he looks at me in the way I’d dreamt of for a year.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

Club whore. Not my favorite title, but one that held so much more than the immediate connotations most people connected with it. It wasn’t something I aspired to be as a little girl dreaming of a bright future, but that future dimmed when life delivered me too many of the ugly truths of the universe in too few years.

I’m not going to sit and whine about a happy childhood that was shattered and turned into a nightmare after one horrible night, nor am I going to recount the year I spent dancing on a pole to put food on the table and a roof over my head. That ain’t me. I’m a survivor. I’ll take what life throws at me and figure out a way to catch it with a smile. I find solace in worlds of fantasy and magic, places where I can escape the darkness and evil of the real world. I laugh as much as I can, try not to take life too seriously. Otherwise, I’d never get out alive. No matter what, I’m not letting the bitterness of this world settle in and taint my soul. I did what I could to claw my way out of a life that threatened to ruin me, to find one that suited me, where I fit, where I had a family.

“Macy!” Jagger yelled at me.

I whirled around on my barstool. I’d been alone at the bar, enjoying an unusual moment of silence. I was never silent. And around here, I was hardly ever stationary.

“Yeah, hon?” I replied with a small grin.

“Get me a beer, and get your sweet ass over here,” he commanded from his spot at a table where he was flanked by Charley and Levi.

I rolled my eyes and bent over to snag a beer from the fridge.

“I got it, kiddo,” I reassured the Prospect, who had rushed to help me.

I gave him a wink. They got enough shit from the boys, I didn’t mind doing what I could to make their lives easier.

I sauntered up to the table, my eyes on Jagger. I stopped just out of his reach and dangled the beer from my hand.

“Anyone ever teach you a word that, in polite society, comes after a request? Rhymes with cheese?” I asked with a sickly sweet tone.

Jagger shook his head and Levi chuckled.

“Beautiful and intelligent, Macy. Won’t you please hand me that chilled beverage and sit that tight behind on my knee?” his gravelly voice requested.

He didn’t wait for me to move, just leaned out of his chair and tagged my waist, yanking me onto his lap. I let out a small squeal but laughed.

He nuzzled my neck affectionately and I leaned into his hold.

I liked Jagger. Had a soft spot for him. He wasn’t what most women would call handsome, given the fact he had a scar that marred half of his face, from his temple to the side of his nose, it was jagged, angry and puckered. His jaw was sharp and masculine, although it was covered by a long beard. His hair was unruly and inky black, but always shiny and clean. He wasn’t tall—he was taller than me, even in heels, but that wasn’t saying much—but he was stocky and packed with muscle. It was his eyes that captured me the most. They were the most vibrant green I’d ever encountered, like two emeralds shining from his head. He also had the most gifted tongue I’d ever experienced. Plus, he treated me with respect. Most of the boys did, but he treated me like a friend as well as a bed mate, and we’d spend hours talking after he’d used that gifted tongue along with other appendages.

“You looked mighty deep in thought over there darlin’,” he commented giving me a squeeze. “Anything me and my most knowledgeable advisors can help with?” He nodded to Charley and Levi, who did their best to look wise.

I gave them a look, then burst out laughing.

Charley was little more than a kid, he’d prospected straight out of high school and earned his patch before he could even legally drink. He was still only twenty and his boyish looks were yet to be corrupted and hardened by the life he’d chosen to lead. His close-cropped blond hair and classically handsome face made him easily mistaken for a college kid. Though, you only needed to get a look at his patch and the tattoos already serving as a patchwork over his muscled body to learn the truth. He even had SONS tattooed on his knuckles, in addition to the tattoo spanning his back. The MC was his life. He’d leave it only in a coffin—or handcuffs.

Levi was one of the older members, he’d been with the New Mexico chapter of The Sons of Templar for as many years as I’d been alive. His shaggy graying hair brushed his shoulders and he was clinging to his Chopper style mustache, despite it leaving the right side of trendy decades prior. His tattoos were faded and his belly protruding from too much beer, but he was still someone you’d be pretty stupid to get on the wrong side of, especially since you never saw him without a big scary knife strapped to his belt.

“Nothing that I want to trouble you three with,” I said taking a pull of my beer. “I’ll leave you to solving things like world hunger and global warming,” I teased fondly.

Though they were hardened men, who I knew could be scary as shit did the occasion arise, they were also my family. Loyal to a fault, they would die for each other. I’d been with them for two years and felt like maybe they’d stick their necks out for me too. Or maybe that was my darned optimism shining through.

After laughing and shooting the shit with the men, more members arrived and the start of the weekly Friday night party began. Not that these men needed a designated night to get loose.

More club girls, namely Scarlett and Kimberly took it upon themselves to get up on the pole in the corner of the room and do a strip show for the boys at one point, not that they had much covering themselves to begin with. Here, there were two kinds of club girls. Scar and Kim, who were all about the shortest skirts, the highest heels, and the most skin. They weren’t fazed about having relations in public. Evidenced by the fact, Scar just let one of the guys yank her off the stage and drag her into a dimly lit, but still visible corner to do the nasty. Then there were girls like me. Sure I liked my heels, but my clothing erred on the hippy side. I was less than likely to be found sprawled across the hood of a car and photographed for a men’s magazine editorial. And, I was not into public sex. Luckily, the men respected this, and never tried to go past heavy petting at these things.

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Out of the Ashes Read Online Anne Malcom (Sons of Templar MC #3) http://www.ilovenovels.com/out-of-the-ashes-3-read-online-anne-malcom Fri, 13 May 2016 13:57:33 +0000 http://www.test123.demo2.xyz/out-of-the-ashes-3-read-online-anne-malcom Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Contemporary, Erotic, MC Authors: Anne Malcom Series: Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
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Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 126215 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 631(@200wpm)___ 505(@250wpm)___ 421(@300wpm)

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Read Online Books/Novels:	Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)
Author/Writer of Book/Novel:	Anne Malcom
Language:	English
Book Information:
Living a life in darkness causes the soul to char to ash. Battling demons by turning himself into a monster is the only way he can survive...the only way he can keep a grip on sanity. That grip is precarious at best, every day is a silent battle with demons that threaten to yank him into the truest form of darkness, the abyss he’ll never escape. Then it happens. Light shines through the cracks. Happiness. Mia Spencer’s life is full of it. She has an amazing new job, friends, family, and the light of her life - her daughter Lexie. Running from the demons of the past, escaping a hell that she vowed Lexie would never know about, she worked through hardship and near poverty to create something she was proud of. Buried deep inside, underneath the swell of love she had for her only daughter, were the fractured pieces of her. Pieces that were smashed and battered when she was young and vulnerable. Then she meets Bull, who seems to hate her on sight. He screams danger, from his huge physique, to his beautiful ink, to the motorcycle club he belongs to. He is silent, his glares threaten to burn her into flames, yet she finds herself falling for him. Finds this broken man slowly fixing the pieces she thought would stay shattered forever.
Books in Series:	Sons of Templar MC Series by Anne Malcom
Books by Author:	Anne Malcom Books

“You don’t let me out of here, I’m going to fucking kill you,” Bull uttered quietly. A calm had settled over him. A calm that starkly juxtaposed the unbridled fury he had been unable to control in the last twenty-four hours. The fury that was unleashed when they got word Laurie had been taken. In broad daylight. Twenty-four hours. How long they’d had her. How long the innocent, sweet, fuckin’ ray of sunshine had been poisoned by darkness.

He regarded his best friend with a cool stare. He was never out of control. Never betrayed emotion. Never had bitches apart from club girls, which didn’t count since there was nothing below the surface. Bull hadn’t realized how empty that shit was until he found Laurie. Till he found depth. Something else to live for, despite the club. Something else to die for.

“You’re in here for your own good. Good of the club. For Laurie.” Cade paused as Bull’s entire frame tightened at the mention of her name. “You’re no good to her walking round smashing shit and killing people out of control,” he said quietly.

Bull walked up to him, the steps reverberating in the room they had locked him in. “Look at me, brother,” he said quietly. “I look out of control to you?”

Cade stared at him.

“That’s my woman out there. You don’t get it, ‘cause you don’t got that shit. But you keep me in here one second longer I’ll never fuckin’ forgive that shit,” he promised.

Cade sighed, stepping aside. Before Bull could move his best friend slapped him on the shoulder. “With you, brother,” he uttered quietly.

Bull nodded slightly, the only response he gave. He was too busy walking out the door into the bright light of day. Too eager to get out of the fuckin’ room and get to finding her. Then, like serendipity, something happened to cast a shadow over that day and every single one after it. A van, screeching to a stop outside the gates. Bull’s heart stopped as he watched a small body be thrown out of it before it sped away, dust flying as it did so. He didn’t register the yelling, the flurry of activity. He sprinted toward that small form, everything in him turning to ice. He had a hope, a desperate hope that the cold forbidding feeling that settled in him at the sight of that prone form was wrong. But as he reached the gate, flung the prospect kneeling on the ground aside, that hope was extinguished. In fact, everything in him was extinguished, leaving a gaping hole in the middle of his fucking chest.

In front of him was his beautiful girl. The only way he could recognize her was the golden locks matted and corrupted with dried blood. Everything else was foreign. The face, beaten beyond recognition. The fresh tattoo covering half her cheek. The ripped clothes barely covering her battered body. The body that he had held in his arms not two days ago. The body that held every inch of him. Kneeling down, gentle as anything, he gathered her into his arms. He pressed her to his chest.

“No, baby,” he choked out, unable to swallow the horror that felt like it was killing him. He pressed his lips to her head. He wished, no, fucking prayed for whatever was out there to save her. To somehow repair the broken body. The broken mind that lay underneath it. Wipe away the horrors a gentle mind had endured. And if that wasn’t possible, if she was gone forever, to take him. Wherever it was that you went after. Take him as well so he could escape the pain and the weight of the guilt he felt. So she wouldn’t be alone. That he wouldn’t be alone.

But no mercy was granted to him. She faded away the next day, succumbing to the mindless brutality inflicted on a gentle soul.

She faded away; he endured. He didn’t follow her. He was engulfed, strangled, in darkness. Haunted by demons that embedded themselves into his mind and sentenced him to a life without light. Without sunshine.

Four Years Later

“Lexie! Have you seen my shoe?” I yelled as I straightened from inspecting under my bed.

“What shoe?” a voice yelled back.

“You know, the cute ones with the ankle strap and patent leather?” I called as I abandoned the shoe search in my room and decided to look downstairs. I needed those shoes today. They were not only the only piece of footwear that went with my current outfit, but they were also my most kick ass heels. Heels that would contribute to a kick ass look, which I needed to help me feel mentally prepared for the day. Because my thoughts were on my dearly departed shoe, they were not on me navigating the mess that was my hall, which meant I tripped over an ill-placed box.

“Great Caesars Ghost!” I exclaimed with irritation as I caught myself from a header.

I really needed to get around to unpacking those boxes. They were a health hazard. Someone - namely yours truly - could break a leg from tripping on those death traps, and crutches were not conducive with my fashion choices. I mentally added unpack house to my to do list.

I came face to face with Lexie, who was holding a shoe in one hand and a coffee in the other. I sighed in relief. “I knew there was a reason I keep you around,” I said, taking the coffee and the shoe.

“I thought it was because you gave birth to me,” she replied with a smirk, sipping her own cup. Caffeine addiction was genetically transferred.

I waved my hand while inhaling the liquid needed for me to be a functioning human. “Yeah, that factors in there somewhere, but the fact you are handy at finding things, namely my favorite pair of heels is the frontrunner today,” I told her, trying to hop and not spill my coffee while I put on my other shoe. “Plus you give me coffee,” I added, waving the cup.

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