Maggie Blackbird

Book Hooks is a weekly meme hosted by Marketing for Romance Writers as part of the MFRW Authors Blog. Readers can jump from one author to another who share hooks from their current WIP (work in progress) or any previously published books.

For this week’s edition of Book Hooks, I give you a teaser from my upcoming release, Sons of Sinners, a dark MC m/m romance. Don’t forget to check out the other book hooks from participating authors HERE.

One was built to be a weapon. The other was born to be his salvation.

Blurb: Reluctant biker prince Sloan is trapped in a brotherhood that would execute him for his secret trysts with men. Sick of wearing a mask, he is escaping to British Columbia, but his plans are dashed when he’s caught in the crosshairs of a predator—Ajax, the lethal War Chief whom Sloan secretly craves.

Ex-con Ajax wants out of the Ojibway street gang that raised him. With three bodies to his name, he is the Syndicate Skins’ most feared weapon and the reason his uncle tasks him with kidnapping the rival prince for a hostile takeover of Winnipeg’s North End. When Ajax abducts Sloan, he’s prepared to do whatever it takes to break the handsome biker. But the only man Ajax burns for proves to be a formidable force, capable of penetrating the War Chief’s stone-cold armour.

When the ransom is refused, Sloan’s survival depends on a desperate gamble, forcing the two adversaries to give in to the explosive tension building between them. But to secure their guaranteed happily-ever-after, Ajax must turn on the uncle who raised him, and Sloan must gut the father who betrayed him—or the future they are running for will be destroyed in a single night.

CONTENT WARNING: Sons of Sinners is an intense, high-stakes dark M/M romance. It contains graphic depictions of captivity, power imbalances, severe physical assaults, survival sex, and explicit on-page violence. This book also features racially charged dialogue and gritty, street-accurate slurs to reflect the raw animosity of the fictional gang war. These terms strictly belong to the world of the characters and do not represent the views of the author. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

Genre(s): M/M Dark Romance, Interracial Romance, First Nations Romance, MC Romance, M/M Contemporary Romance, Indigenous Gang Romance
Heat Rating: Level 3
Publication Date: Coming Soon
Publisher: Heartberry Press

“It’s time for me to cut out.” Sloan didn’t look over to see how the announcement hit his fellow passenger riding shotgun in his truck.

Fiddler’s fingers froze on the console. He grunted, the heavy silence confirming he understood what those words meant. “When?”

Sloan wet his lips. “First thaw.” In three months, he’d leave for British Columbia. For the next ninety days, he had to sit on his hands.

This time Fiddler looked to Sloan, grief reflecting in his grey-blue, wrinkled eyes. “Got it.”

If Sloan had spoken those words to his biological dad, Monster, he’d be facing the barrel of a gun instead of concern and compassion. That was why he considered the old greybeard his true father.

The windshield wipers slapped back and forth. The heat was cranked to open throttle in the four-by-four truck to combat the minus-thirty Celsius temperature outside. People trudged through the drifts of snow piling high on the sidewalks, used to merciless weather crueller than the Syndicate Skins who ran the blocks in Winnipeg’s North End.

The junkies, hookers, pimps, and street people matched the paint-peeling, rotting buildings. Nothing changed here.

They were on their way to one of the laundering spots the Syndicate Skins maintained on behalf of the Hellions.

“Y’know I already got your back,” Fiddler said, lighting a cigarette.

“Yeah, man. Appreciate it.” Sloan had already secured his crib deep in B.C.’s mountains with a new name and identity. Thanks to Fiddler, who served as treasurer, they’d been skimming the count money for the last two years—not only from the strip club, but also from the other front businesses—so Sloan could build up his nest egg.

Getting out two years before he marked his thirtieth birthday was the best present he could give himself after spending twelve years in the walls of the clubhouse. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He regripped the steering wheel. Shit, what did he loathe more? The ol’ man for hauling him into the MC the second Mom’s body had hit the ground, or the anticipation building in his gut since they were a block away from Bottoms Up? The anticipation won out, a raw, heavy, violent pull towards who he’d find waiting in the count room.

Ajax.