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    Bomb: Ruin Outlaws MC, #1
    Bomb: Ruin Outlaws MC, #1
    Bomb: Ruin Outlaws MC, #1
    Ebook76 pages1 hour

    Bomb: Ruin Outlaws MC, #1

    By Amy Isan

    3/5

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    About this ebook

     

    The Final Ruin Outlaws MC Romance book -- BURN -- Out Now!

     

    Ruin Outlaws MC #1

    Standing on the side of the road, the fallen motorcycle bursts into flames. His dark eyes meet mine and he looks like an animal ready to devour me. The worst part? I want him to.

    A woman who’s about to go down a rough road...

    Logan isn't my type. He’s a brazen outlaw, with eyes like midnight and a fighter's hardened body. I can't help but feel uneasy when I'm around him, but with that unease comes a dark throbbing chill up my spine.

    He's definitely not boring, and maybe that's why I can't stop thinking about him. Problem is, he's guarded and distant with me. I can't blame him. I did just put the President of his motorcycle club in the hospital…

    A man on the edge of the law…

    A woman has never challenged my loyalty to my club. Until Cassie. She’s a defiant one, with a fierce attitude and a body made for sin. Somehow, whenever I look in her blue eyes, I feel like I'm going to drown.

    This mess couldn't have happened at a better time. My motorcycle club needs me. With my long time friend in the hospital I need my wits about me. But how can I whip these rookies into shape with Cassie constantly on my mind? Can't I just forget about her? God knows I've done it before with weaker women.

    I can't have a repeat of what happened to my crew in California. Especially if it’s my fault.

    From Amy Isan comes Part One of a sizzling Serial about an outlaw and the woman who dares to tame him…

    Approximately 20,000 words, or about 78 pages.


    RUIN OUTLAWS MC series:


    #1 Bomb


    #2 Spark


    #3 Iron

    #4 Flame

    #5 Burn

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherAmy Isan
    Release dateApr 23, 2014
    ISBN9781498974752
    Bomb: Ruin Outlaws MC, #1
    Author

    Amy Isan

    Thank you for your support! You can keep up to date on my next release by signing up for my newsletter: http://bit.ly/18WuvMU ! You can also sign up for my newsletter on my website. I'll be sending out promotions and review copies to those lucky subscribers! I love to hear from my readers! You can reach me at amelia.isan@gmail.com Thanks again!

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    Reviews for Bomb

    3/5

    8 ratings2 reviews

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    • 4/5
      Bomb is a biker in a new mc and problems are happening when he meets Cassie on the highway -lives change
    • 3/5
      Nice story but not very interesting so far also not a strong plot

    Book preview

    Bomb - Amy Isan

    CHAPTER 1 — CASSIE

    I wring my hands and stare across the flickering pavement. I can’t believe this is happening. I fixate on the burning wreckage and want to look away, but it’s trapped me with its glow. Out of the corner of my eye, a biker starts approaching me. My veins turn to ice. His leather vest has deep creases from his muscles. His eyes lock on me, and I find my knees buckle a little. This must be the same biker I saw the other day, but what does he want with me? I swallow hard and keep my eyes on him.

    But, I’ve gotten ahead of myself. This isn’t where the trouble all began...

    . . .

    Sara, what is it this time? I answer the phone, nestling it between my ear and shoulder. I’m stuck in rush-hour traffic, and I direct my frustration at her. I don't know why. She hesitates when she hears my tone, that wet smack of lips parting and closing again gives her away. I can’t help but grin a little.

    Where are you?

    I sigh, annoyed. I’m coming home, jeez, what are you my mom?

    Your dinner will be cold.

    I laugh. You didn’t have to make me dinner, Sara. I’m an adult. I suck on my teeth, waiting for the silence to grow awkward. Things have been tense... and strange between us. Since she broke up with her boyfriend, she’s been a bit... clingy. I feel pestered when she’s around, even if she’s trying to be nice. Either way, my nerves feel so frayed that Sara’s grumbling is more irritating than the pick-up with three burnt-out brake lights in front of me. I’m coming, okay? I finally bite out. I add, Thanks.

    I groan and toss my phone into the passenger seat.

    Come on, just put it in park already, I mutter to the driver in front of me.You’re not going anywhere! I turn on the radio and try to find a station that isn’t talking about the traffic. A flash of sunlight in my mirror turns my head. Who the hell thinks they’re going anywhere in this grid-lock?

    The distinct roar of a motorcycle engine races as bike and its rider slide between several cars and alongside me, straddling the lane. I turn and glare out my passenger window, expecting to see a fat, old and balding man barely hanging on to the seat of a dirt bike. But it isn’t.

    A leather vest. Colored patches. This isn’t an old man, but a serious biker. My age, I think. A sexy dash of closely cropped hair, a strong jaw with a bit of stubble, and a defiant grip on the reins of his chugging beast shakes my core. The man suddenly turns his head and looks right at me, and I feel my cheeks flush. Why? I was trying to scold him, if anything. Why does he get to do that to me?

    He twists his throttle and makes the bike howl in protest, before he speeds off between the lumbering and frozen cars scattered along the highway. The last glimpse I get is the back of his leather vest, bearing a skull with sharp fangs, and the words RUIN M.C. in dark-red letters.

    What is he special cause he can break the lanes and speed past all of us? I bet he thinks he’s real cool. Exasperated, I shut the radio off as the announcer switches to a commercial. I stare at the traffic, heat lines rising from exhaust fumes and polished paint.

    The rider’s eyes. They looked... hurt. Like I had personally attacked him with my look. Was it my fault? What could I have done to make it better?

    Maybe my imagination was playing tricks on me. Before I shrug the thought away, a sentence passes over my lips silently: Come back to me.

    . . .

    I slide my key into the lock at the apartment that I’ve lived in for the last three years. The trees scratch the windows on windy days, the lights flicker out at inopportune times of the night, and I swear I can smell weed most of the time, but it's home. Not only that, but it's cheap.

    I throw my purse on the counter and slump into a chair, eyeing the tin-foiled casserole dish suspiciously. It doesn’t smell like cold pot-pie, but something much better. Sara must’ve slipped into her room, since her door is closed. I lift up the tin foil carefully and a burst of steam spills out. Lasagna.

    Ugh. How could I stay mad at her? I can’t even remember why I was anymore.

    I dish myself up some of the steaming noodles and cheese, and tip-toe down the cramped hallway to her door. I give it a quick knock and she hollers from the other side. Yeah?

    I push the door open and frown when I see her. She is laying on her bed in her pajamas, and she barely looks away from her book as I step in. I hold up the bowl of food. Sorry for earlier.

    Don’t worry about it.

    I shake my head and my frown lines deepen, which I hate. I can feel them setting in as I get older, which makes my stomach a bit queasy. Wasn’t I supposed to grow into laugh lines?

    My mouth opens to say more, but no words came out. I step back and shut her door with a quiet click of the latch. I want to say I’m sorry for being a bitch, but I can’t bring myself to. I still feel a lingering cloud hanging over me.

    I sit back at the counter and eat like an animal. If the traffic wasn’t so bad, it wouldn’t be what feels like midnight before I could have dinner. My mind wanders to the motorcyclist I saw weaving between the cars like they were dumb cattle. His tanned arms seemed to glare with glistening sweat, and the short glance I got of his eyes was enough to make me choke. I’m so swept up in my thoughts, I don’t even notice Sara until her finger jabs

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