Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Read Online Books/Novels: | Lights To My Siren (The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC #1) |
|---|---|
Author/Writer of Book/Novel: | Lani Lynn Vale |
| Language: | English |
| ISBN/ ASIN: | 1506178340 |
| Characters: | Sebastian, Baylee |
You’re The Lights... Sebastian had one rule. No women on the back of his bike. Period. The one time he broke that rule, he killed the woman that was carrying his child. Then comes Baylee Roberts. She makes Sebastian want to break every single rule he’d ever implemented. Hell, but she even makes him consider that dreaded H word. A helmet. To My... Baylee Roberts innocently walked into her bathroom never expecting that she’d find a man in there. It is her bathroom after all, and she lives alone. From the instant he placed his hat on her head to protect her from the sun, Baylee’s mind becomes filled with thoughts of a certain biker. She really shouldn't go there. There’s no telling what kind of dangerous things he does for The Dixie Wardens MC. Siren... Nothing is ever as easy as it should be. Their relationship’s one of them. Baylee’s brother is a cop. Baylee’s father is a cop. Which inevitably means that Baylee’s going to have certain hang-ups about being with a man like himself. Sebastian has a lot on his plate with his busy job as a firefighter, a single father, and the vice president of The Dixie Wardens MC. | |
| Books in Series: | The Heroes of The Dixie Wardens MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale |
| Books by Author: | Lani Lynn Vale Books |
Chapter 1
A good man breaks your headboard, not your heart.
-Rules to live by
Baylee
I watched out of the corner of my eye as the man, two yards down from my own, stepped up onto the diving board, faced me, and then laid his hands against the top of the fence. Then, unsurprisingly, he leaned his head down until his chin rested on top of the hands that rested on the fence. His eyes were on me as I screwed another screw into the board between my legs.
“If my stupid brother were here, I wouldn’t have had to worry about some creepy, old man watching me while I worked out in the yard.” I grumbled, as I tried not to notice the creepy old man.
I regretted taking off my shirt now, but it was so unbelievably hot out that it was either take the shirt off, or give up on the deck until fall. The weather in Texas was absolutely boiling. In the summer months, it reached upwards to 110 degrees. If I lived to be a hundred, I would never get use to this horrid Texas heat.
It was a far cry from the cooler summers in Casper, Wyoming. At least there we had defined seasons. In Texas, one day it could be sunny and stifling, and the very next it could be dreary and cold.
My brother was the one who’d recommended project ‘fiasco,’ saying it would help the resell value of my house to have a deck around the pool. He’d even planned the deck out, bought the wood, and built the framing. Then it sat for two months before I’d finally decided to just do it myself. Apparently, they’d been super busy at the station lately, and he hadn’t been able to utilize his free time like he’d previously done.
Sweat dripped down my chest and back, in slow moving rivulets, disappearing in the waistband of my shorts that said ‘cheer!’ across the ass. The bra I put on that morning was thoroughly soaked through with sweat, restricting my breasts like a serpent. The thick material was anything but forgiving, and I cursed my mother for passing down the big boob gene that required me to wear extra supportive bras, instead of thin cute ones like normal women.
On top of everything else, my knees were killing me. Two years after my accident at work, and I still felt the effects of that night.
That night, my life changed forever. I’d been working my third 24-hour shift of the week. There’d been a call involving a fifty-year-old man complaining of chest pain, while out for dinner with his wife.
My former partner, Cory, and I were dispatched.
After loading the patient, Cory had taken lead, which left me driving to the nearest hospital.
We’d been ten minutes out when a car had run the stop sign, barreling into the ambulance before anyone had even noticed it was there.
When I’d come to, the patient that had been coding in the back was dead, and Cory was unconscious and fighting for his life. I hadn’t been as severe, but I wasn’t able to feel my legs from the knees down at the time, either.
The loud roar of a motorcycle pulling up outside signaled the arrival of my new partner. Winter had learned of my side project during last night’s shift and immediately offered her assistance once she caught up on her sleep.
Winter was a fellow female medic at Station number three. She’d been there just shy of a year when I had arrived. We’d gotten along instantly. We’d been paired together ever since.
From then on, we spent quite a bit of time together, and over the past six months, I’d gotten to know the other women that lived in the same compound as Winter, as well. Winter’s husband , who was former military. When his old team had gotten out, they’d started a motorcycle shop and then moved in behind it.
There they’d established quite a reputable custom bike business, and had flourished since.
Winter said she’d be asking her husband to drop her off so she could drink if she felt like it afterwards. I told her she wouldn’t have the desire to do so after being outside so long, but what did I know?
The doorbell chimed a few moments after the sound of the bike shut off, and instead of getting up to answer it, I just yelled. Honestly, I was beyond tired. If I got up, it would be to lay down on the couch and crack open an ice cold Coke. “Come on in! I’m in the backyard!”
Winter’s answering yell confirmed that she’d heard me, and I went back to screwing.
I laughed at how idiotic that sounded. I had what you would call a very naughty sense of humor. Anything you had to say, even the most normal of statements, I could turn it into some sort of sexual innuendo.
With one hand, I lined the tip of my screw gun with the notched head of the screw. With the other, I pushed down while depressing the button. A movement out of the corner of my eye had me looking up in time to see the man a few yards down taking a picture of me.
Flustered, I turned back to my screwing, making a mental note to let my brother know sooner rather than later.
As usual, my coordination and lack of attention fucked me over, and instead of pushing down on the screw, the screw slipped. The head of the drill bit slammed down into my finger, shooting a burst of pain through my body.
Although I’d managed to pull back, the puncture still hit deep enough that blood started to pour from my finger. “Goddammit. Motherfucking bitch of a whore’s son.”
Painfully, I got up to my feet with my bleeding finger clutched to my chest, then ran to the backdoor, slamming inside without looking.
I ran straight to the bathroom, blood seeping through my clasped fingers.
I passed Winter on my way, but didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, I went for expediency, forgoing the niceties in exchange for prolonging the life of my brand new beige carpet.