Curvy Attraction (Raging Angels MC Book 3)

She’s a captured enemy. He’s on “babysitting” duty. But will he change his loyalty when he finds out there’s more to her story?
One click this curvy woman possessive biker romance!

Callie
My temper has always gotten me into trouble.
But this time, I’ve been kidnapped!
Only… it’s not terrible;
My abductors treat me better than my family ever did.
Especially the wickedly sexy prospect they have watching me.
He’s tall, strong, and grinds my gears.
When I have to make a choice, will I go with my mind… or with my heart?

The men of the Raging Angels MC are possessive, protective, and know what they like—curvy women. One by one, they’ll learn what it’s like to fall into obsession—and love—with their women.

This is a Steamy Short Story Romance. No Cliffhangers. This is the third in the Raging Angels MC series, but it can also be read as a standalone. If you love short romances with steamy sex scenes and a happily ever after, then you’ll love this book.

Technically, I shouldn’t be in Havisham.
And I definitely shouldn’t be in Havisham alone, without my cut, without my bike, and without any back-up. This is Misfits territory, and as a prospect for the Raging Angels, me getting caught here would be bad news.
On the other hand, it’s because I’m a prospect for the Raging Angels that I’m even here, cruising incognito through the dark streets in my old pick-up truck. I still have to prove myself to my club before I can patch in, and one way to do that would be to bring down the ones responsible for the recent shooting that nearly took out one of our enforcers. I don’t know exactly what—or who—I’m looking for, but I have a feeling I’ll know when I see it.
There’s a bar on the main strip, Olive & Twist, where the Misfits are known to hang out, and tonight isn’t any different. There’s a row of bikes parked in front, and I slow the truck to a crawl as I pass, rolling down the passenger side window to get a better view.
It’s exactly what you might expect from a biker bar—a little rundown and dimly lit, with flyers plastered to the windows. The twang of country music drifts out to me as the door opens, and the smell of gasoline seems to hang in the air.
“Get away from me, Dex.” The woman’s voice reaches me even over the rumble of my engine, drawing my attention to the clapboard wall beyond the porch. There, a guy in jeans and a Misfits cut leans against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips. A young woman in a tight white tank top and jeans that seem to mold to her curvy hips is glowering at him.
It takes me a minute to place the guy, but when he straightens to his full height, I realize that he’s Dexter Neal, VP for the Misfits and asshole extraordinaire. He blows a puff of smoke into the woman’s defiant face.
“Don’t forget who you’re fucking talking to,” he says.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t get involved. I should roll up my windows and get my ass back on the highway and back to Heathcliff before I do something stupid.
But I’ve never been very good at doing what I should.
The truck stops just beside the pair, and I lean over. “Do you need some help, darling?”
Dex’s dark eyes flash with anger, and he opens his mouth to say something to me, but that’s when the young woman turns and spots me.
“You know what?” She hikes her purse up higher on her shoulder. “Yes, I do, actually.”
“Don’t you get in that fucking truck,” Dex growls after her, but he makes no move to follow her as she stomps in her high-heeled boots across the sidewalk.
“It’s about time someone treated me like a lady around here,” she spits back at him over her shoulder.
“Maybe if you would fucking act like one—”
She slams the door, drowning out the rest of his words. “Drive,” she commands, and while I don’t normally like taking orders, I also don’t want to sit around and wait for Dex to summon the rest of the Misfits. I stomp on the gas, and the truck squeals, fishtailing a little as I whip it back onto the road and slip through a yellow light.

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