Vodka on the Rocks Read Online Lani Lynn Vale (Uncertain Saint’s MC, #3)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Contemporary, Funny, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Uncertain Saint's MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale
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Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
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“Hey, big brother,” CeeCee, my sister, acknowledged me with a smile as she sauntered up to me.

She looked cute in her uniform…not that I’d tell her that. She might shoot me in the face accidentally on purpose.

I held up my free hand.

“Hey, C. How’s it going?” I waved.

CeeCee grinned.

“It’s going. Would be going better had I not had to leave my dinner to come out here and deal with my big brother’s shit,” she taunted.

I narrowed my eyes.

But Tasha was the one who got angry.

“I’m not shit. And I’m definitely not Storm Cloud over here’s shit,” Tasha grumbled.

I blinked.

“Why do you keep calling me Storm Cloud?” I turned my head so I could study her eyes.

They were so dark brown that they were nearly black, but if the light or the sun caught her eyes just right, I could see the brown flecks there.

“Because your eyes get all dark and stormy when you get angry. That’s the only way I can ever tell that you’re affected by something I’ve said,” Tasha rambled.

I decided to shut her up before she got me a new nickname.

However, judging from the look on CeeCee and Ridley’s faces, it’d already taken root.

“Let’s go,” I growled, pulling her to my bike.

“I’ve only been on a bike once before,” she said, now waving to the two people at my back that’d saved her bacon tonight. “Is it like riding a bicycle? You don’t forget how, right?”

I shook my head and handed her the only helmet.

“I’ve only got this,” I said, patting the back fender of the bike. “It’ll be uncomfortable, and bumpy; hold on.”

She sighed.

“That’s what she said,” Tasha quipped.

I ignored her, even though I found the line funny.

It wouldn’t do for her to see that she affected me in any way.

I didn’t want to give her any ideas.

“Alright, take me to your leader,” she ordered me.

I liked Tasha.

She was the sister of another brother’s old lady.

I’d thought Annie was hot, but then I’d seen her sister, and all of Annie’s hotness paled in comparison to her hotter sister’s.

Which was a good thing, because I valued my face the way it was.

I couldn’t handle another fucked up thing on my body, and Mig was sure to fuck me up if I looked at his wife with anything more than a glance.

“Yo,” Ridley called as I’d mounted the bike.

I offered Tasha my hand as she mounted behind me, but turned my attention to Ridley.

“What?” I grunted.

He walked over to me and handed me a little clutch purse that I’d seen in Tasha’s lap earlier that evening.

“Man, found this inside,” he slapped me on the shoulder. “Guessing it’s hers? It has nothing but a phone inside.”

I nodded. “It’s hers.”

I started the bike without another word, and roared out of the parking lot with Tasha screaming in my ear.

I’d met Tasha six months ago when her sister had first started dating Mig.

She came with Annie to a club party and, for some reason, had made multiple appearances since.

And each time I saw her, it became harder and harder to resist her.

But I would.

Because I couldn’t have a woman.

Women and I didn’t mix.

I worked too much.

I had a dangerous job that kept me out until the wee hours of the morning, and that was if I even came home at all.

And to top it off, Tasha was too breakable.

She seriously would break under all that was me.

I wasn’t easy on the women in my life, and I knew that Tasha was a woman that deserved gentle.

And gentle just wasn’t within my capabilities.

Chapter 2

If she’s honest, caring, makes you breakfast, picks up after you, does your laundry without asking, lets you play Xbox, brings you beer, and lets you touch her ass, marry her. Yesterday.

-Casten’s delusional thoughts

Tasha

Hell. I was in hell.

There was no other explanation for it.

My head was splitting, and I was fairly certain if I got out of bed right now, I’d be painting my walls with puke.

And, although that was a fun color, I wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up any of the mess.

Vomit was a bitch to get out of the carpet.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and came face to face with my ferret, Shawshank.

“Get off my bed, rat,” I said, poking the ferret.

I’d acquired Shawshank with the apartment.

The previous owners had four of them, and the day they’d moved out of the apartment, one had gone missing.

I’d found him and never gave him back.

Mostly because I didn’t think the previous owners had taken very good care of the ferret. Plus, I was kind of fond of him.

My cat, however, was not.

She hissed when Shawshank started wiggling in excitement because I was awake.

Knowing I couldn’t put it off any longer, I hefted myself up onto one elbow and took stock.

I wasn’t wearing pants.

They were on the end of my bed, folded neatly, like my mom used to do for me before I moved out.



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