by
Trying his hand at legitimate business ownership hasn’t always gone the way Maddox planned. The ex-motorcycle club enforcer experienced his share of ups and downs before finally achieving success. Now he’s opening a specialty grocery store and outdoor market in the small town of Foggy Basin, and he’s itching to get back to the part enjoys most: crafting the recipes for the newest products that will grace their shelves.
Unfortunately, Maddox's first few days in Foggy Basin haven't been the best. His motorcycle was involved in a hit and run, and the damage was extensive. The mechanic at the local shop isn’t the friendliest and yet he's found himself engaging more and more with Haven as he works on restoring the ‘67 Harley Electra Glide back to its previously pristine condition.
In between homemade Chinese food and Hoagies, Maddox begins to glimpse a side of Haven the younger man didn’t know he had, but the jury is still out on whether Haven will trust him enough to let him past the walls he’s erected to keep himself safe.
Featuring a gruff but nurturing Daddy, a hesitant little, supportive sibling, some judgy townsfolk, a German Sheppard who doubles as a lapdog, an arrogant ally cat who sits everywhere but on laps and a stunning secret reveal that will impact the siblings in ways they never imagined.
Welcome to Foggy Basin. Just passing through? No problem. Here to stay, well, better find your place. Sit back, relax and get to know the townsfolk. They love hard and play even harder. Each book is a standalone but why not stay and get to know us and read them all.
Narrators:
Genres:
Pairings: M-M
Heat Level: 3
Romantic Content: 4
Ending: Click here to reveal
Character Identities: Gay
Protagonist 1 Age: 26-35
Protagonist 2 Age: 36-45
Tropes: Age Difference, Coming Home, Found Family, Small Town
Word Count: 50000
Setting: small town california
Languages Available: English
The screech of tires on asphalt turned the heads of everyone in the bank, but it was the crunch of metal on metal and the clattering thud of something hitting concrete that had Maddox leaping up from his seat. All thoughts of the accounts he’d been in the middle of opening were forgotten as those tires squealed away. He reached the door as a flash of dark paint and taillights disappeared around the corner, eyes immediately zoning in on the spot where he’d left his baby.
The ’67 Electra Glide lay on her side like a toppled turtle, the detached front fender was still spinning in front of the door to the Blue Star Diner, while the forks were mashed against the bricks between the buildings. His foot struck something as he hurried towards the downed bike, and he stared in disbelief as his shattered headlight skittered several feet before dropping off the curb.
What the actual fuck?
READ MOREGrowling, Maddox hurried after it, rescuing the mangled mess before anything could run it over. Not that it was salvageable. The crest was crushed, one of the eagle’s wings was ground down along the edges. Even if he could remove it, it was worthless now. The moment he had it in his hands he knew it was destined for the scrapheap. He kept waiting for the sound of sirens, but there was nothing but the steady beat pulsing from the window of a car parked across the street.
Hoping the owner had gotten a good look at the vehicle that had wrecked his ride, he rushed over only to see that it was unoccupied, another reminder of the difference in small town living. In the valley where he’d grown up, no one would dare leave the keys in their vehicle and the engine running, even if they were in the middle of a bank robbery. Even inexperienced dumbasses were too smart to want to wind up fodder for the Dumbest Criminals reels, which is exactly what would happen if they’d rushed outside with a backpack full of stolen cash only to realize they’d been the victim of a car thief. The karma would have been epic, but still.
Turning, he returned to the downed machine, groaning when he saw the twisted condition of the handlebars. The forks looked bent, and the vintage seat was listing to the left and partially turned. Fuckin chrome was all scraped up and his paintjob was wrecked to boot. In short, it was a disaster that no amount of cussing was going to undo.
“They’re sending an officer over,” the financial officer he’d been working with declared from where he stood just inside the door of the bank, shaking his head at the mess.
“Fuckin’ useless at this point!” Maddox snapped, wanting to bury his face in his hands and snarl like a honey badger when the man paled and immediately whipped around and disappeared inside.
One day.
One fuckin’ day.
Not even a full twenty-four hours and he’d already gone and let his old self overshadow the man he was trying to be.
When he’d left the Marauding Demons, the only thing he’d carried with him from that life was the ink he bore on his skin, that bike, and his stepfather’s approval. The ink was proof of the family he still had, and easy enough to cover beneath the long sleeves of his blazer and the gray V-neck shirt he wore underneath. His motorcycle he’d seen no reason to hide, especially not on a day like this. So what if he’d missed his kutte and chaps for just a minute when he’d gotten on, he told himself that was to be expected, even after all these years. That time in his life had shaped him and taught him to go after what he wanted with the same furious passion as when he’d been patching in.
Right now though, the furious, vengeful pieces of his past reared their ugly heads, wishing like hell he was still surrounded by his club brothers, because they’d have chased the bastard down and curb stomped his ass for hitting his Electra Glide. That’d have issued out a separate punishment for driving away after it happened, something that would forever mark them as a coward as well as a reckless idiot.
Which was exactly what he intended to do if he ever caught up to the asshole.
Breathe.
Catching felonious assault charges in his first week in Foggy Basin would not be a good look, especially not when he intended to launch a business here.
COLLAPSE
