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    Ripper's Virgin Bride
    Ripper's Virgin Bride
    Ripper's Virgin Bride
    Ebook92 pages1 hour

    Ripper's Virgin Bride

    By Winter Sloane

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    About this ebook

    Ripper’s Vice-President of the Skull Crushers MC. He’s thought about quitting his violent lifestyle but something keeps holding him back. The thought of leaving the only woman he’s ever only wanted guts him. Lily’s too good for him, for this life, but Ripper can’t deny himself any longer. The more he waits, the worse his desire grows for his bestfriend’s daughter. Lily’s not just a fling. Ripper intends to claim her, own her, and make her his old lady.

    Lily’s stuck in a bad place. She’s sick of cleaning after her drunk father, of pining after a man who only sees her as nothing more than his best friend’s girl. Lily’s out to prove she’s now a grown woman but can one night change everything?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherEvernight Publishing
    Release dateJan 24, 2020
    ISBN9780369501226
    Ripper's Virgin Bride

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      Book preview

      Ripper's Virgin Bride - Winter Sloane

      Published by EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ® at Smashwords

      www.evernightpublishing.com

      Copyright© 2020 Winter Sloane

      ISBN: 978-0-3695-0122-6

      Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

      Editor: Audrey Bobak

      ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

      WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

      This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

      DEDICATION

      To my readers, I hope you enjoy Ripper and Lily’s story as much as I loved writing it.

      RIPPER’S VIRGIN BRIDE

      Winter Sloane

      Copyright © 2020

      Chapter One

      Ripper gritted his teeth, eyed the mess he’d made, and decided to squeeze out the rest of the motel’s free liquid soap onto his leather vest. The wet leather bunched under his hands and felt heavy as hell. The bloodstains hadn’t faded one bit.

      Not his fault. That drunkard at the bar had the guts to pick a fight with him. Ripper should’ve walked away. He promised himself he’d turn a new leaf but look at him. An hour out of Windsdale, and he’d already bloodied his fists, ruined his jacket in the process with that asshole’s blood.

      Frustrated, he threw the jacket at the shower wall.

      Ought to just leave trash behind, he grumbled under his breath. Ripper thought about burning it, but he shouldn’t be setting unnecessary fires.

      He got out of the shower, about to leave the bathroom, but he paused by the doorway. Ripper gripped the shoddy wooden frame and looked back at the jacket. The grinning skull mounted on a bike sewn on the left shoulder stared back at him. Taunted him mercilessly with its blood-red eyes.

      Despite his misgivings, Ripper retrieved his jacket and lifted it up to his eye.

      Vice President, my ass, he muttered, about to rip the patch on the chest area.

      He pulled his fingers back, thought about the club, the brothers he left behind. Bear, President of the Skull Riders MC. Bear’s daughter, Liliana. A sweetheart who shouldn’t still be cleaning up her father’s messes. Guilt heavily weighed down on him.

      He clenched his jaw, shut his eyes, and counted silently to ten in his head.

      Once again, he heard Jeanne’s voice in his head.

      Promise me, Ripper. One day, you’ll get out of this life.

      Jeanne had been dead for four years now and he still couldn’t bring himself to fulfill the oath he made to her. He opened his eyes again and stared at his bruised knuckles. Ripper washed off the blood when he tried to get his jacket clean. Deciding he needed another drink, he left the jacket and the musty motel room.

      The night air felt cool on his face and skin. Ripper looked for his bike in the parking lot and spotted the Harley where he’d left it hours ago. Good. Ripper headed toward it and mounted up, not bothering with a helmet.

      Ripper recalled spotting another roadhouse a couple of miles from this shithole, a little further than the bar where he’d punched that asshole’s face in, but it would do. The engine gave a sexy little purr and he was off, gripping the familiar handlebars of his baby.

      Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the rundown establishment. From outside, he could hear the speakers blasting country music.

      Ripper shook his head. Didn’t matter anymore. He wasn’t a member of the club and no longer had to watch his back every single damn minute. Ripper didn’t even have his jacket with him.

      The sad truth? He felt naked without the familiar texture of the worn-in leather on his body. Does it feel like armor? Ripper remembered one of the prospects asking one of the members.

      Gotta get used to it. Ripper dismounted his bike. A couple of youths hanging out by their car eyed his bike. He didn’t miss their bloodshot hungry eyes or the gang tattoos they sported on the side of their necks. Shoddy work, not like the ink on his own skin. Meth heads.

      Ripper gave them his finger, a warning. Walking past them, he said, Any of you so much as touch my bike, I’ll rip off your heads.

      One of the teenagers laughed but a wiser one nudged him in the shoulder and told him to shut up. Ripper meant every word. His bike was sacred to him, one of his more valued possessions.

      That done, Ripper entered the bar. Not his type of crowd or music, but it had to do. He found a spot by the bar and ordered two beers.

      Two? You’re starting the night the right way, said a sarcastic female voice. A familiar one.

      Ripper narrowed his eyes at the bartender who slid him two cold ones. He swore under his breath.

      Lily, what the fuck are you doing in a joint like this? he demanded, suddenly sober.

      He eyed her up and down. A critical error. Being Bear’s daughter, Lily hung around the club house often. Not the best place to rear a child. Bear couldn’t afford a babysitter and the woman who bore Lily had died.

      Lily had grown up while Ripper wasn’t looking. Bear would skin her if he saw her dressed in a black halter top that bared her shoulders and her soft curves. She wore tiny denim cut-offs underneath. What the hell? Lily should know better than to strut around, dressed like one of the women who hung around at the club.

      Ripper saw red. He wanted to drag her out of that bar, out of this place. Stow her away somewhere safe.

      Don’t look at me like that, Ripper. She served another guy two beers.

      The guy’s friend had the gall to whistle at her. Ripper told himself back in the motel room that he’d be more civilized, but right now? All he wanted to do was march up to the bastard and rip him

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