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Read Online Books/Novels:

Fear the Beard (The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC #2)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Lani Lynn Vale

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B01MU5LTGD
Book Information:

Tally is a twenty-year-old single mother struggling to finish nursing school. Has she made mistakes in life? Sure, but her daughter isn’t one of them. She works hard, she studies even harder, and she’s only a few weeks away from graduating.
She’s living her life the best she knows how when she witnesses a near miss motorcycle accident between a car and a biker. A biker that happens to be the most talked about teacher at her college.

The moment she meets those startling blue, narrowly-escaped-death eyes, she realizes quickly that life as she knows it has changed. No longer will she be content to let life pass her by, even if it puts everything she’s worked so hard for in jeopardy.

***

Tommy is a highly skilled doctor. A teacher. A veteran. A fully-patched member of The Dixie Wardens MC. He’s lonely, but also set in his ways. What will it take for this man to accept that he needs to make some changes in his life? Apparently, it’ll take a guy in a truck, who’s preoccupied with his phone rather than focused on the road, nearly plowing into him on his bike at seventy miles per hour. Oh, and a twenty-something year old nursing student witnessing the entire thing from only a few feet away.

It only takes a second, a single heartbeat in time, as he looks into her worry-filled eyes to realize that he’d give anything for a single night with her. He may lose his job in the process, but after that one incredible night turns into an amazing weekend, he knows it’s worth the risk for the promise of her forever.

Books in Series:

The Dixie Wardens Rejects MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale

Books by Author:

Lani Lynn Vale Books

Chapter 1

I’m not good at peopling.

-T-shirt

Tally

“No, baby. I have to go to school.” I smoothed my daughter’s hair back gently. “When Mommy gets home, she’ll come to your room and give you a kiss, okay?”

That was if I got home on time. Last clinical I didn’t get home on time. In fact, I was home so late that I barely had the energy to make it through the door four long hours after my clinical was supposed to be over.

My daughter’s quiet pleas and sniffles with snot smeared on my scrub top had me wanting to cry right along with her.

Every single time I went to school like this, she tried to get me to stay, and each time was getting harder and harder on me.

My father took my daughter from me and settled her on his forearm.

“Go, Tally,” he ordered softly. “I’ve got her.”

My daughter’s fat tears rolled silently down her cheeks.

“Be good, baby,” I ordered. “You go right to sleep for Pawpaw, okay?”

Tallulah pursed her lips, wiped her eyes, and buried her face into my father’s neck.

My eight-month old daughter knew two words. ‘Bye-bye’ and ‘Fish.’

“You better go before you’re late,” my father ordered.

I grimaced at him.

“I’m going,” I sighed. “See you tonight.”

With one final blown kiss to Tallulah, I pushed through the door and headed down the steps to the driveway.

I looked back one final time to see my dad in the window helping Tallulah to wave at me.

I smiled at her, then unlocked the doors to my Toyota 4-Runner, my father’s hand-me-down nineteen-ninety model that needed a paint job and a tune up.

However, when you’re a twenty—almost twenty-one—year-old single mom working forty hours a week and going to school full time, luxuries such as a new car weren’t afforded.

Hell, I was lucky if I had enough money to put gas in my car to get me to school and work.

With one final look at the massive five-bedroom monstrosity my parents had lived in for the best years of my life, I pulled a U-turn in the grass and carefully eased out of the driveway.

My thoughts were on the first day of the last semester of nursing school, and I was still wondering, much like I was on the first day of school, what exactly I was thinking.

I hated nursing.

I hated it with a passion, in fact.

I didn’t like blood. I couldn’t stand seeing broken bones. I actually hated people, too.

I wasn’t a good people person, and it seemed like everyone knew it.

Like the biker at my side.

I knew he was there. We were sitting at a red light, and I could feel his eyes on me.

Did I turn to acknowledge him?

No.

What if he smiled? Was I expected to smile back? What if he waved? There was no way in hell I was waving back. Then there was the worry that he might think I was coming on to him, when I most definitely wouldn’t be.

Why? Because I wasn’t good at peopling.

I, Talith Breanna Slater, was an introvert.

I didn’t do well in crowds. Talking to someone new made me feel like I had hives. And I was about to enter into an occupation that was known primarily for interacting with human beings.

My phone rang, startling me out of my contemplation.

“Hello?”

“Where are you?” my best friend hissed.

I rolled my eyes. “Be there in five,” I told her, and then hung up.

I hung up because the light turned green, and I made a promise to myself the day that I’d brought Tallulah home from the hospital and we were nearly killed by a texting teenager that I would never pick up the phone while I was driving ever again.

And it was a good thing I did, or I might’ve missed the stupidity that’d happened directly in front of me.

My foot eased off the brake, and my SUV started to inch forward.

The motorcycle next to me revved his engine and started forward as well, and I was just about to press my foot to the gas when a large white maintenance van shot through the intersection, missing the biker by only a few inches, and zoomed on like nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t just nearly run over a freakin’ person.

The biker, sometime in between then and now, had slid sideways and was perpendicular to my car, staring at the road where the van had disappeared so intently that it made me quite nervous.

I’d just about decided to get out and ask him if he was okay—and, yes, I realize how extrovert-like that would’ve been for me—when he turned and stared at me.

The only thing I could see were his eyes.

A blue so beautiful that they were piercing.

They were shocking, and pairing those eyes with a man on a motorcycle was just wrong.

Why?

Because I had a weakness for bad boys and a child to prove it.


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