Renegade Souls MC, Uncategorized

Filthy Love – FREE BOOK!

2 – 6 April.

Claim your sociopath VP.
I wanted you to have a biker for company while we socially distance and who better than the most antisocial VP! — Enjoy!!

Hawk’s love for Gia is INTENSE. Have you met the MC VP yet?
Socially distance yourself with the most antisocial biker there is.

Filthy Love, book 4 in the Renegade Souls MC series.
New to the bikers? Binge read them today with your KU subscriptions HERE



Some women loved chocolate. Gia loved a sociopath (she also loved chocolate) and she loved him fiercely. Through dark days of rejection. Through months of not talking to him. She loved him. As much as that love had hurt her it was still the most real thing she’d ever felt for a man. Oh, she’d tried many times. Once in her early twenties she’d methodically went on dates every single day for two months to get over her stupid crush, to force her emotions to a better cause.

And every time she’d failed because at the end of the night she was comparing them to Hawk.

Unrequited love was a pain not many women spoke about.

And then Hawk came back into her life.

And Gia was back to full bloom of wanting everything from him.

“Nothing to say about what I want?”

When he looked down at her mouth Gia almost passed out. He had no idea what those eyes of his could make her feel.

He might not be a man of many words, but his eyes spoke volumes.

They whispered dirty, beautiful things and Gia was an expert in listening to them.

“That’s not gonna happen.” His fingers tightened on her hip bones causing a moan to trap in her throat.

“Why not? You must want something for yourself. I don’t believe you’re sexually altruistic, Hawk.”

His forehead screwed up.

He plucked her from his lap, sitting her on the couch and he popped up to his soaring height. Sighing, Gia knew one of his disappearing acts were imminent. If not for his babysitting duties she doubted he’d be here at all.

“Leave it, Gia.”

“No. I want to talk about it. I thought you were being generous at first. I got caught up in how good you made me feel.” Every stern line on his beautiful face tightened.

He wasn’t unaffected. Far from it if his body was a gauge. Why was this an issue? Didn’t all men want sex over everything? She’d heard the bikers joking around years ago of Hawk’s conquests. They ran into triple numbers if rumors believed. Yeah, that small fact tortured her ever since. So, he liked sex. It just appeared not with her…

Chin up, eyes blazing she met his stare head on. No longer intimidated by the harsh biker. Not when he’d shown how he felt. “You want me,” she stated. He remained silent. A tick working his strong jaw. She was somehow comforted by it; she was hitting the right marks.

“I won’t have you,” he replied sharply. “It’s for your own sake.”

He looked ready to jump through the window.

Gia took a second to reorganize her thoughts.

“You want me.” She repeated, “even now, I see your body wants me.” She went on before he could deny that too. “You’re possessive over me, you protect me, you called me your old lady to that Russian. That means something, Hawk.”

His blond head hanging low, hands on his slim hips, he could be mistaken for a statue making himself at home in the middle of her living room with the TV turned to mute and her sweet pea candle burning in the background.

“It’s not gonna happen, Gia. Drop it.” He grated with a rough tone that stroked over her nerve endings.

She scoffed, rolling her eyes. She recognized fear quite easily and he was denying himself for a reason. “You’re wrong.”

The stare pierced her. She felt touched. Between her legs became wet. “Where did you grow these brass balls, little girl, daring to tell me I’m wrong?”  His ice eyes brilliantly lit with exasperation. She nearly moaned, the attraction often came instantly and hit her like a truck.

Heat sizzled. She wanted to kiss him for a decade.

“If I wasn’t brave I’d get nowhere. And you’re fucking wrong. You’ll still be wrong when you can stop glowering at me and admit it.”

“Is that so?” He said it so quietly she shivered. Scratchy thickness in his voice.

Teasing him was so much fun, why hadn’t she done it sooner?

“I’m a sociopath, Gia. You should be pushing me away, not urging me to get into that pristine body of yours.”

A heat started in her chest and quickly spread to the rest of her body. While she recognized his attempt at shooing her away, all it managed to do was turn Gia on.

Her chest rose and fell quickly. A motion he noticed.

“All sociopaths have their weaknesses. Even you. And I think I’m yours, even if you stupidly won’t admit it, you won’t see I’m right here.”

He inhaled hard. “And you know this how?”

“I study. You should crack open a book occasionally. And not Murder weekly.” She quirked a grin at him.


“Says the cranky self-confessed sociopath.”

He threw himself down in the armchair. At least he wasn’t running.

“So, argues the unrealistic little girl with her head in the clouds. You think you can rehabilitate me, little bit of a thing? Throw the savage a slab of meat, see what happens. There’s no rules with a sociopath, didn’t your psychology books tell you that? You stick your head in a lion’s mouth he’s gonna be a fat fucker an hour later.”

“I don’t have desires to rehabilitate you, Hawk. Just share in the same space as you. Maybe date and fuck.” She told him boldly with her heart beating like a damn drum. She’d never spoken so candidly like that to anyone before. But with Hawk being Hawk, she knew the only course of action was a truthful one. To always speak her mind and to never assume he could pick up on her thoughts and emotions. If she was correct and he was on the Asperger’s spectrum then he wouldn’t easily distinguish her bodily cues.

“You know your brother would murder me if he heard you say that.”

“Don’t throw Ambrosio into the talk like you think it will deter me. I’ll call him right now and tell him I’m trying to date your brains out.”

Hawk’s eyes flared, and Gia grinned. Never dare a Marinos. “Want me dead do you?”

“The way you keep brushing me aside, I’m thinking it might be a choice to keep on the table.”

At that he smirked. “Smart girl.”

And then he added.

“This life isn’t for you, Gia. I’m doing it for you. I’m definitely not a man you need around.”

The fine hairs stood up on the back of her nape. Oh, he’d done it now. “So, let’s get this straight, because the excuses keep on rolling in and I think I might need to make a pie chart.” Both Hawk’s eyebrows went up. “First you say you’re not good enough for me. Now it’s the life you lead. What next? Maybe I don’t dress correctly to have a biker boyfriend? —”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“—or is it I don’t have enough orgy experience? Tell me, Hawk, how many men do I need to fuck to suit you and this life of yours?” She shot out.

Seething and hurt at the same time.

When would she eventually learn?

She was getting tired of fighting both the world around them and Hawk.

Maybe he was showing her glaring clues he didn’t really want her after all.

“Stop right now. Gia.” She found her face grasped in his two hands, bringing her attention to the man towering over her. “Don’t put that fucking word on your tongue, are you hearing me? It’s me who is the piece of shit, me who isn’t good enough. I don’t want to drag you down to my level.”

“MY choice where I go and who I do it with, you don’t get to decide that.” She glanced around, but his thumb stroking her cheekbone brought her back to him. He had so much kept behind his eyes, so much he wouldn’t share with her.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being a sanctimonious jerk? You can pretend and lie to yourself all you want that you don’t want me, but don’t ever decide what is best for me, Hawk. Only I know that. If I want to roll around on the floor stark naked with the entire college football team and then go back for seconds, I will because the last time I checked I was grown-ass woman more than capable to make my own choices of who I fuck and share my body with.”

An almighty rattle came out of that massive chest that quite frankly stunned her silent.

Not fearful exactly, she was always safe with Hawk but man oh man, he was looking like thunder.

“Say that again.” The words dripped from thinned out lips.

Eyes rounded. “W-which part? I said quite a lot, I can’t remember it verbatim.”

“You want to get naked and fuck a lot of someone’s, little bit? Is that what you’re telling me?”

She threw her stubborn chin up, glared at him. “Sure, why not, you don’t want to fuck me, that’s what you said. You get no say thereafter of who I have sex with be it multiple times or with hundreds of men.”

She’d poked the beast and the beast was snarling.

He took an excessive number of deep inhales then lifted his big blond head and hit her with two beams of blue.

“If you thought I was overprotective and possessive before, you have no idea how bad it can get. Are you ready for that?”

No words would come out of her mouth. She blinked.

“You’re giving me an inch, Gia? Think about what you’re doing. I’ll take a fucking mile. You have no idea how goddamn possessive I am over every part of you. Body, mind and fucking soul. Don’t decide something you can’t take back, because the moment it’s made your choices are; me. That’s it. There’s nothing else.”




Law Maker – Available Now

You’ve been waiting for him…
It’s Lawless time! Who’s ready to get inside the mind of this psycho MC enforcer?

This novella has been a long time coming. A lot of things had to be in place within the Renegade Souls series and now it’s finally here and you can learn some of Lawless’ secrets! I hope you enjoy this first look into the life and mind of a man who takes care of cats and knows how to wait.

You can grab it on e-book, paperback and in KU right now.

– Not a standalone.

“No one needed a monster puppeteer.
Not a headcase like Lawless.
Some fish needed to be free … to swim in their own pond and to find a life worth living.”

What you can expect from Law Maker:
💀Bringer of death.
💀Planner of plans.
💀Tamer of cats.
💀Boiler room shenanigans
💀A crime boss in good suits.
💀Bad fish.
💀Pop Tart King

💀Lawless being his majestic self.

Series: Book 7.5 – Renegade Souls MC Series.
Genre: MC Romance – Contemporary Romance.
Trope: ☆Diary of a psycho ☆Biker dirtiness ☆Prison genius

Then hold on tight, #LetsGoFish

ButtonZon ButtonGR



Naughty Irish Liar – Now Live!


★.•°★°•.★Naughty Irish Liar Release Day Blitz ★.•°★°•.★

Series: Naughty Irish Series (author collaboration)
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Trope: Second chance for a first time love with a gorgeous, Irish a$$hole.
Grab your Irish boy today!

Here’s the Irish a$$hole, babes!! I hope you enjoy Ronan and Catie’s story. They were not meant to be on my writing schedule at all until I was asked by the lovely Tessa Elaine to join her Naughty Irish Series and then the bossy Irish pub owner and his determined ginger girl suddenly were in my head demanding to be told. I’m so grateful this author collaboration project came about because as it turns out NIL has been one of my favorite writing projects to work on and I’m so very happy I got to know these characters. lies and soulmates do go together 😉
Happy reading. I’d love to know what you think of this pair.
V. xoxox

Don’t forget to pick up the books in the series. They are complete standalone stories, no crossovers and can be read in any order.
Find the series here:
Naughty Irish Heart by Abby Knox
Naughty Irish Fate by Dee Ellis –

Naughty Irish Love by Tessa Elaine –


Naughty Irish Liar – First Chapter Exclusive

Series: Naughty Irish Series (author collaboration)
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Trope: Second chance for a first time love with a gorgeous, Irish a$$hole.
Release Date: March 15, 2019.




Some people called me an heiress brat. A socialite of Manhattan with nothing between my skull but hot air and the latest fashion trend. They said I was more acrylic nails than SATs.

I’m none of those things.

I’d say I was decisive. I know what I want, and I work my yoga-built bottom off to get it because if I didn’t, how else would I achieve anything? And while I might technically be my daddy’s heir, I don’t take his money for granted, nor am I living on his allowance anymore.

I’ve decided what I want…wanted for a long time and no matter what, I’m going to make it happen.

But I think my social status has more to do with my family name, being a Clemonte.

You see, I’m Catherine Hope Clemonte.

And I have no idea why we’re categorized as though our name is some big scandal when we’re talked about.

I promise we’re not, far from it.

Daddy is rich beyond belief because he earned it the hard way, there was no inheritance for him, he worked constantly, having grown up poor. He got into property development in the early eighties and now the Clemonte Hotels are all over the world. Celebs and the rich flock to stay there. Movies use them for locations. We hold prestigious events that earn their spot in the society pages of Manhattan. He married mom who instantly became his world, and then they had me. I was ridiculously spoiled with love. They’re those embarrassing type of parents who were incessantly in love with each other and had no bones about showing it even if their mortified teenage daughter had friends over at the house.

I suppose being the only child of the fifth richest man in American might explain why I’m called a brat. It’s what people expect. Us millennials have a reputation.

Who cares? I care a little, I guess.

I’m twenty-two, I don’t need that kind of label this early in my life. Can’t they call me a genius? (Sadly, I’m not. I’m in the last year of college and I’ll be lucky to get my business management degree) or a trendsetting influencer? (But I only have a few hundred Instagram followers, so it wouldn’t seem likely to happen. Plus, I only post pictures of toast and the odd stray cat)

Oh, god. My nerves are so rife I could exorcist-puke along with my rampant thoughts going nuts.

I’ve paced outside so long that a passing saloon car actually stopped and asked how much I was charging.

I hustled closer to the bar entryway, caught how loud it was inside and almost changed my mind about going in at all. I could always choose to do this another day, I reasoned with a croak of nerves tickling my throat.

Did I want to do this with an audience?

I swallowed and ran a anxious hand over my long red hair.

I was not risking humiliation and complete rejection just for scraps, I reminded myself. This was an all-in situation.

I wanted it all. I wanted what my heart had hurt over for five years.

My story wasn’t all that unique. Girl too young fell for the older guy. Guy crushes girl’s hope. Girl longs for guy ever since. It’s what every Lifetime movie is built on.

I was too young back then.

Now I’m not.

The door swung open and three guys ambled out talking to one another, giving me a cursory glance before they headed down the street. I hastily stepped aside and peeked in before the door swung closed again.

I knew already what MacNam’s looked like even before I’d stepped inside because I Googled it so often that if the FBI were to look at my search history on my hard drive it would appear that I was up to some no-good shit.

I couldn’t help myself. I had issues, okay. He’d become my sexy, delicious hobby and when I was obsessed with something I was all or nothing. I didn’t have gray areas.

But he hadn’t made my secret hobby easy that was for damn sure when I discovered he didn’t have one social media account.

And believe it, me and my second-best friend wine did extensive cyber stalking one weekend.

What kind of psychopath doesn’t have Snapchat?

I wanted to believe I was so adult chasing after what I wanted—who I wanted, but let the evidence show I was the coward loitering on the streets of Manhattan just after 9 pm gathering my composure to walk inside and lay claim to a man who would probably take one look at me and then look away. There wasn’t even any guarantees he’d remember me.

For two years after he’d crushed my teen heart I swore blind I hated that man for hurting me the way he did. The cruel things he’d said still rattled around my head dousing me in doubts.

Just because I was grown enough to understand his rejection to my adolescent emotions, it didn’t mean he was forgiven for the shitty delivery. The way the bastard sliced down the middle of me in his sharp Irish brogue like a thousand paper cuts could still send bile into my throat.

He could have let me down gently, but that wasn’t who he was.

I’d hurt him too by lying first…deliberately. The bank of lust that had burned through his beautiful eyes died in those few seconds of realization…my lie ended us before we were anything.

Tonight was about checking if the fires were still there in his eyes when he saw me. It was now or never, I’d told my bestie earlier that same week, when I put my plan into action.

She was annoyed with how often I turned down actual dates because I was hung up on something that never was. And that was one of many reasons I was standing outside his Irish pub freezing my butt off at the end of January. Snow laid crisp on the ground just days ago but thankfully had thawed somewhat. Even still, I was wearing my favorite lucky pair of white skinny jeans, pink leather buckle booties and underneath a fitted V-neck butt-length pink woollen coat, was just a plain white tee.

I was a red-haired woman over the age of fourteen who liked pink, m-kay. I didn’t need to explain my fashion choices.

My pulse skittered like a scared cat as I pulled open the door, a shift of warmth from inside coasted over my frozen cheeks.

I’d rehearsed this through every variable of conversation that could occur. Even the downright painful where he kicked me out on my ass for daring to walk into his domain. Even before he’d made a penny he’d had an ego. It was all part of his arrogant appeal, I suppose.

I had no confusion that he’d be anything less than lord of his fortress once I walked through the golden doors.

Face the man, tempt the ego. Or so the plan goes.

The pub was on a whole entire block. The real high-end section of Times Square. Beautiful red brick with tiny flood lights around the trim of the building, looking like an expensive palace. Everyone knew about MacNam’s.

Inside was just as extravagant and inviting with gold and browns everywhere, wooden tables and chairs, with gilded trim adding to the luxurious vibe. It was unlike any Irish pub I’d ever seen before and I felt the pinch of happiness for what he’d achieved for himself in such a short time.

My eyes took it all in. Nerves still jittering.

Along one wall was a full-length bar lit up and mirrored, every high-backed stool taken. On the other side were tables full of customers, I’d thought for a second I’d find a seat, catch my bearings and then casually ask the bartender if the boss was in tonight.

My thoughts got no further than that, they came to a stuttered halt. I wasn’t even afforded a second to peek up the staircase in the middle of the room to the second level because a pair of eyes so blue appeared in my vision and stole my breath.

Hope grew, and sprang like weeds seeing the surprise etched on a face I’d never stopped thinking about.

Not for a second.

Oh, I’d tried.

I’d hated him at times.

We’d been nothing much at all and still he’d exerted all this power over my poor aching body for the longest time.


My smile melted off my face when his warm eyes turned cold…slit to moody darkness and then he scowled.

Nerves goose-bumped across my skin as I forced my feet to move.

There was nothing funny about the irregular way my heart thumped out of order from within my ribcage. Every step I took closer it became a heavier sound in my ears.




No amount of mental rehearsal could have prepared me for how agonisingly real his enigmatic blue eyes felt on me. Sharpe and laser-like.

They were shiver inducing and trained on me, like a hunter would hold a gun.

Deadly and aware of my every step.

Those eyes punctured through me and didn’t waver, not for a second. Not even when a guy came up on his right-hand side and spoke closely to his ear. I watched his mouth move, bringing out words from those lush—vicious lips and still his gaze didn’t leave mine.

There shouldn’t be any reason for the way my insides jumbled up together, tying each organ to my racing heart—but you see, I was looking at the asshole I naïvely fell in love with five years ago…so I was a little out of my comfort zone.

Five long years I’d waited to look him in the eye as an equal—as a badass woman and let him know I was here for him.

Ronan MacNamara.

My everything.

My agony.

The man who had ruined me for any potential boyfriend ever working out.

The main reason I was a virgin, because no one measured up to the flamed feelings he brought out in me.

Oh, yeah, I hated him as much as I loved him, because for a long time I’d wanted to move on from the memory of Ronan. To lose him in a sea of other pretty faces, and yet he always came back. He’d permanently ruled over my heart when I’d tried to remove all trace of him.

What do you need to know about Ronan MacNamara?

He’s a tall boy. Six feet two to be exact. I know this because in my fawning crush back when I first met him, I’d asked all the important questions; age, height and favorite color. (green)

An origin to Dublin he now lived and owned three Irish bars around New York, MacNam’s was synonymous to all things Ireland and success. I couldn’t click on a lifestyle blog without seeing a glowing review for one of his pubs.

He’s not overly muscular. His body is long and ropey strong. He carried himself arrogant and confident, like he was always sure where he was going, and people best just get the fuck out of his way. Clothes always looked perfect on him. Even now in dark-wash jeans with a studded belt, a sweater rolled up his forearms, along with the scuffed worn boots he made my heart skip several beats. That was before I reached his stubbled face, full kissable lips. His haircut had changed from the last time I’d laid eyes on him. Now it was that modern nineteen forties cut, shaved around the sides and swept off to left on top. God almighty, he’d grown even sexier in the interim. His face was ridiculously handsome.

Ronan was a big deal. And not just to my former pubescent heart.

I just didn’t know him all that well. Not the person he was inside, I didn’t know about his thoughts or ambitions, or even his family. Only as far as my long-ago infatuation went and that was mostly softcore daydreams and spying on him through blinds when he came by my house.

But what I knew of him now?

He was a liar.

A sexy, gorgeous, no good Irish liar.

And that’s not me tarring a whole nation with the same brush. I love everything Irish, especially potatoes and Riverdance.

I just know the man I love to be a liar is all, and I firmly believe a woman deeply in love can call her man all the names under the sun if she wants to.

The flapping birds in my belly didn’t give me a respite when I forced my feet to keep moving. Fixated on the turbulent tummy motion just to save my mind from going to dark places that involved his lips and mine.

The expectation now that it was here in front of me tasted weird on my tongue.

Not unfamiliar, but new and dangerous and a tiny bit terrifying.

With no clue how the next few minutes would go, I knew only that I’d come this far and nothing short of a natural disaster was making me turn around.

My stomach was flipping and flopping and generally being a damn nuisance.

Looking at Ronan from across his pub while crowds of people milled around us, his killer blue eyes all over me like gold on a leprechaun, I shuddered inside and willed time to stand still so I could just go on staring at him.

You get nowhere in life if you didn’t take chances, my dad would say. Me chasing down a man? I’m guessing daddy didn’t mean for me to interpret it that way.

No amount of scowling asshole was going to stop me.

Through my nerves I pasted a smile on my face and angled my body through the crowd, closing the gap between us, feeling every bit of the electric energy rushing through my bloodstream.

A girl came from behind, almost sent me flying as she rushed by knocking my shoulder hard enough that it hurt. I saw Ronan’s eyes narrow further, but he wasn’t looking at me this time, his eyes were on the road rage girl who was squealing his name.

“Baby! I missed you!” She declared and launched herself at his chest.

While my own chest deflated of all its air and left me with a weird crash and burn sensation.

The Irish asshole had a girlfriend?

I froze. Hardly blinking. My insides tumbling.

A spoke had well and truly been thrown in my wheels.

My eyes narrowed looking at the cosy scene.

Rude. I thought. How fucking rude. Didn’t he know he was supposed to wait for me to grow up? Hello, here I was fully grown.

I stood there like a deer caught in twin blue headlights. Ronan glaring at me over the shoulder of the blonde woman clinging to him.

Dammit, if I’d known there was going to be a traffic jam of women for his attention I might have gotten my butt inside the pub an hour ago, instead of loitering outside like a creeper.

Heat stole over my nose freckles.

Not because I was embarrassed or disheartened.

Because as I went on looking at Ronan, he was looking nowhere else but directly at me with that scowl and lust.

I saw lust clear as day all over his face and bursting out of his broody eyes while his girlfriend? Lover? Piece of the moment? Tried to climb him like a coconut tree.