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    Bad Boy's Surprise Baby: The Choppers MC, #1
    Bad Boy's Surprise Baby: The Choppers MC, #1
    Bad Boy's Surprise Baby: The Choppers MC, #1
    Ebook125 pages1 hour

    Bad Boy's Surprise Baby: The Choppers MC, #1

    By Kathryn Thomas

    4.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Bad Boy's Surprise Baby is book 1 of The Choppers MC trilogy. Books 2 and 3, Bad Boy's Unexpected Baby and Bad Boy's Secret Baby are available everywhere now!

    I WANTED ADVENTURE. HE WANTED A BABY. WE BOTH GOT WHAT WE WANTED.

    Devin owned me from the second he walked into my shop.
    He was like something out of a romance novel.
    And I wanted to see where our story went.
    I just never guessed it would end with his baby in my belly.

    It was obvious from the second our eyes met:
    Devin wouldn't take no for an answer.
    He saw something in me that he wanted…
    And I was powerless to deny him.

    But that was before I knew the kinds of people who were after Devin's blood.
    Bad men.
    Evil men.
    Men who wouldn't hesitate to hurt me, too.

    I never signed up for all this.
    But when Devin puts his seed inside me…
    I'm stuck going along for the ride.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublishereBook Publishing World
    Release dateJan 21, 2019
    ISBN9781386458340
    Bad Boy's Surprise Baby: The Choppers MC, #1

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      Book preview

      Bad Boy's Surprise Baby - Kathryn Thomas

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      BAD BOY’S SURPRISE BABY: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Choppers MC Book 1)

      By Kathryn Thomas

      I WANTED ADVENTURE. HE WANTED A BABY.

      WE BOTH GOT WHAT WE WANTED.

      DEVIN OWNED ME FROM the second he walked into my shop.

      He was like something out of a romance novel.

      And I wanted to see where our story went.

      I just never guessed it would end with his baby in my belly.

      It was obvious from the second our eyes met:

      Devin wouldn’t take no for an answer.

      He saw something in me that he wanted...

      And I was powerless to deny him.

      But that was before I knew the kinds of people who were after Devin’s blood.

      Bad men.

      Evil men.

      Men who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me, too.

      I never signed up for all this.

      But when Devin puts his seed inside me...

      I’m stuck going along for the ride.

      Chapter One

      Camille

      The store was quiet . In fact, it had been quiet for the past two hours. Camille had been watching the clock tick, following every movement of the minute hand with her steely blue eyes. It was only several minutes later after she had been standing behind the desk, staring at the clock on the wall, that she realized she had been drumming her fingertips on the glass-top counter.

      She couldn’t believe how bored she was. Bored was one of her emotions; the other was anxiety. Camille had taken a huge leap of faith by opening up a comic bookstore. She was only twenty-five, which meant that her other friends were out there in the real world, climbing corporate ladders, and making more money than they could spend. Basically, they were living a normal adult life; a life that she had been brought up to lead.

      She had the education for it, with a Business degree, and even had the work experience too. After college, Camille had slogged away at a financial firm for a year, until one fine day she realized that this was not the life she wanted. And quit her job. At the time, she had been twenty-three and thankfully had some money in the bank, which she hadn’t spent on nights out and an unprecedented amount of alcohol, like so many other of her colleagues had.

      So she had found herself with enough money to chase her crazy dream of opening a comic book store.

      Now, here she was, apparently living the dream. The only problem was that not everybody shared her dream. Camille’s clientele was small and scattered, and her store was more often empty than busy. For the longest time, she kept her hopes up. It would work out. Business would pick up. But eventually, after two years of waiting behind her desk, praying to make a sale... Camille realized that it was too much to ask for. She had accepted the fact that she wouldn’t make more than ten sales a day, on a good day.

      Camille sighed as she stopped drumming her fingers. She tore her face away from the wall clock and decided to re-analyze her life, as she had done on thousands of other occasions.

      The question was: am I happy? Camille caught the reflection of herself in the store window across from her. Her tight blonde curls lay in a high halo around her face, and even in the dim reflection of herself, she could make out the tired look in her blue eyes. She didn’t bother with makeup anymore, so her lips were a natural pale pink, and her face looked dry and a little washed out. She was happy in her simple denim cut-offs and the sweatshirt she was wearing, but she then noticed a dried pasta sauce stain on her shirt. She eventually shrugged it off; it’s not like she had any customers to make an impression on.

      Camille sighed again. This self-contemplation was getting her nowhere. She needed to occupy her brain with something else. She rummaged around on the desk until she found a blank scrap of paper, and she started doodling.

      She was sketching subconsciously, mindlessly... and as always, she doodled Cammy.

      Cammy was the heroine of her own comics. A plain-Jane small town country girl by day, who fought corruption and male chauvinism by night. Well, not quite in those simple terms, but Camille wanted Cammy to be the symbol of female empowerment, not like the usual comic book stereotype. Cammy didn’t have any super powers, and she didn’t fight the usual kind of comic book villain either. The villains in Camille’s comics were misogynists, men who abused their wives and girlfriends and mistreated women in general.

      It was no surprise, therefore, that Country Crowns had sold only twenty copies in the past eight months since she started publishing them. The comics didn’t exactly fit into any tapped market of readers.

      But in any case, Camille was happy in knowing that there were at least twenty people out there in the world who had read her work, probably even appreciated her artwork, and whose lives she may have touched through her characters.

      Camille smiled as she drew, thinking about the thrill of someone actually picking out one of her comics and purchasing it. Actually paying money to read something she had written, and see something she had drawn. Hopefully, it would happen again.

      She finished sketching a figure of Cammy on the sheet of paper. Cammy looked nothing like Camille, and purposely so. Cammy was tall, wore her shiny red hair in a loose fishtail plait, had thick, glossy red lips, and wore a black velvet jumpsuit and a mask at night when she fought evil. By day, Cammy helped her father on their family’s farm and donned plaid shirts with rolled up sleeves, and loose jeans with the kneecaps cut off. By day, Cammy was just another ordinary country girl... just like Camille used to be, and too long ago.

      She stared at her drawing of Cammy, smiled again, and then in a sudden fit, balled it up and threw it in the bin. Who was she kidding? Publishing her own comic books was a hilarious fantasy; something she needed to stop if she wanted to save the very little money she had made from the store.

      Camille walked around the desk and over to the stand where the more popular comic books were housed. She found the latest issue of Punisher and pursed her lips. She ran her finger over the sketched abs, the ripping torso of The Punisher. She grinned at the thought that somewhere out there, in some parallel universe, someone like him might actually exist. A man who was a daredevil, brave, rugged, and willing to avenge his family’s death through any means necessary.

      Camille shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes. As if. She was kidding herself again.

      THE BELL ABOVE THE store door tinkled just as Camille turned the third page of Punisher. When she looked up, she saw a guy walk in, and she immediately felt her cheeks blush. It couldn’t be real, it couldn’t actually be happening! Just when she was daydreaming about a comic book hero, a guy straight out of her fantasies had walked in.

      This guy was ripped. She could see that, even through the tight jeans and black leather biker jacket he was wearing. He had magnificent black hair that was brushed away from his face like an old photograph of Marlon Brando. His eyes were small, the color of chocolate, and he was clean-shaven with straight angular jaws.

      He hadn’t quite caught sight of her when he walked in. In fact, he hadn’t seen her at all because the first thing he did was close the door and twist the

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