Crash – A Dirty Angels MC – Blood Fury MC Crossover Read Online Jeanne St. James

Categories Genre: Biker, MC, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88992 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Crash - A Dirty Angels MC Blood Fury MC Crossover

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Jeanne St. James

Language:
English
ISBN/ ASIN:
B08T8H42CC
Book Information:

Is the risk worth the reward?
It was a time to gather with the allies to witness the wedding of a president and his ol’ lady in front of the three powerful clubs that rule western Pennsylvania.
The Bloody Fury MC. The Dark Knights MC. And of course, Crash’s own club, the Dirty Angels MC.
Three tight-knit brotherhoods celebrating a weekend blow-out full of women, partying and more.
For Crash, it may end up being so much more. She’s the property of another club. Property he doesn’t have permission to touch. Property he can’t resist touching.
But taking what he wants means risking a crack in the alliance, one he doesn’t want to be responsible for. Creating an issue he doesn’t need to cause for his MC. For his president.
But Crash has never been one to blindly follow the rules. Especially when it comes to someone so tempting.
In the end, she ends up being a risk he can’t stop from taking. To hell with the consequences.
Note: While this book can be read as a standalone, it’s a crossover between the Dirty Angels MC series and the Blood Fury MC series. It’s best read after the complete DAMC series and before Blood & Bones: Ozzy (Blood Fury MC, book 9). As always, this book has no cheating, no cliffhanger and has an HEA.
Books by Author:

Jeanne St. James



Song List

Tangled Up in You - Staind

(Jazz sings this song at the wedding ceremony)

I Want to Spend My Lifetime Loving You - Marc Anthony & Tina Arena

(Jazz sings this song to Crow)

Other songs mentioned in the book:

Forever – KISS

Man in the Box - Alice in Chains

Chapter One

With boots wide, legs spread and hands on his hips, Crash stood at the edge of the Blood Fury MC’s courtyard and scanned the field beyond.

A sea of tents, campers, borrowed travel trailers and rented vans filled the field as far as his eye could see.

Sleds. Lines of them. The mid-June sun reflecting off all the chrome made them sparkle like diamonds. All badass bikes and not one of them a piece of shit. Mostly Harleys and a few Indians. All made in the good ol’ U.S. of A. Not a crotch rocket to be found on the property.

As it should be.

Some of those sleds had even been designed and customized at his own body shop in Shadow Valley by Jag Jamison. And now Badger and Olly, who Jag took under his wing as apprentices. Overwhelmed with all the custom jobs he was getting, Jag decided to pass on his skills to the two newest—and youngest—patched members and stick more to the designing part.

Along with his artwork—regularly selling for a pretty fucking penny—the brother wasn’t hurting for scratch.

Crash didn’t have the patience for all the detail work needed to build a custom sled, so he stuck to the basics in the garage. Doing repairs and rebuilding the engines. It paid the bills, put some scratch in his pocket and fattened the club’s coffers.

Business was good.

Life was great.

And this blow-out weekend was going to kick motherfucking ass.

With the stops along the way, it took over five hours for the Angels to ride from Shadow Valley all the way north to Manning Grove. Luckily, it was a beautiful day to start off a hell of a weekend full of celebrating.

It was the first time all three clubs in the western Pennsylvania alliance were getting together in one spot.

His MC, the Dirty Angels, along with the Dark Knights, were invited to the Blood Fury MC’s home base to celebrate their president’s marriage to his ol’ lady.

Right now Crash was ready to party and partake in some sex, drugs and good ol’ rock-n-roll.

He grinned until he brushed his palm over his short hair, then cursed himself for shaving it all off in a drunken bet a couple of months ago. He’d shaved off his beard at the same time—unfortunately, also a part of the bet—and sported a bare face and a bald head for quite a while now.

Because of that loss—both the bet and his hair—his brothers had ridden his ass hard and without a drop of fucking lube.

It was finally growing back, but he had decided to ditch the beard for a while. In fact, some of the women in the DAMC sisterhood threatened to kick his ass if he grew it back once they saw his chin dimple that had been buried under the bushy beard. That was what they called it, a fucking chin dimple.

Whatever. He really didn’t give a fuck about any fucking chin dimple. The dip only made it harder to shave. This weekend he wasn’t shaving once. The sisterhood could suck it if they didn’t like it since he didn’t answer to any of them.

Hell, he didn’t answer to any woman at all. He’d avoided it for over forty years and had no plan on changing that fact any time soon.

Most of the women he’d even remotely considered had been younger. Child-bearing age. Jonesing to start a family.

Crash was fine with the way things were now.

Ride free, die free.

Free of a ball and chain. Free of kids. The only responsibility for him being his garage, his MC and his brotherhood.

Simple.

And drinking to the point where he could lose a damn bet and it wouldn’t matter to anyone but himself.

But, yeah, he missed his damn hair. Before losing the bet, it hadn’t been cut since he was a teen and would get dragged to the barber by his mom when it got shaggy.

He turned around to face the courtyard and glanced to the right, where the Fury’s pavilion was. It was double the size of the DAMC’s but then, the Fury’s farm had a lot more space than the property where his club’s church and The Iron Horse Roadhouse were situated.

The DAMC’s building, and the lot it sat on, might be smaller, but because of that, their church was much easier to defend. He glanced around. Enemies could sneak up from all sides on this farm. Too much open space existed.

His gaze skimmed the huge barn-like structure to his left. At least Trip had taken Zak’s advice and omitted windows from the first floor of their church and bunkhouse. Smart thinking.


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