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
Slipping his hand into his jacket to reach for his Glock, a habit wired into him, Sloan opened the door slowly to the office, moving from subdued neon to bright fluorescent lighting.
The room was secure.
Uncle Toad, the leader of this ragtag bunch of street gangsters, sat at the desk, a bucket of fried chicken mixing in with the money he was setting into the duffel bag. A man pushing fifty, he’d been on the blocks since he was a kid, working his way up to Elder for the Skins. The gang allegedly operated on a circle of consensus, not a hierarchy, but everyone knew the fat fucker ruled the turf alone. He even insisted on using the “Uncle” tag to keep with some sort of native tradition, which was nothing more than a cheap front for a ruthless cunt.
Ajax, the old bugger’s nephew and lethal right-hand, stood by the filing cabinet, spinning the cylinder to his weapon. Each spin of the piece gave Sloan a look at the grit beneath Ajax’ short fingernails leading up to a strong arm with faded ink from his prison tattoos. The light caught the steel of the gun, reflecting a hint of silver. The click-whirr from the cylinder echoed like a heartbeat, filling the void of the silence in the room hazed with cigarette smoke.
Just as steely were those black, deep-set eyes, boldly studying Sloan through the fringe of thick lashes and black brows shaped into a straight line that slanted downward. Menacing. Cruel. Hard. A face of the streets. A handsome face with a square jawline and strong throat. Thick red lips were set in a grim countenance that contrasted with the bland grey of the room. This was a man always ready for action, ready to fight, and ready to kill, proven by the fire-red teardrop tattoo under his eye and the lethal twitch of his bicep.
At thirty, Ajax was as seasoned as his uncle.
Just like the previous Friday, and the Friday before—hell, every encounter Sloan had with Uncle Toad’s nephew over the past six months after Ajax had maxed out of Stony Mountain Penitentiary—the heat in Sloan’s long underwear rose ten degrees, producing sweat along his hairline, between his armpits, and in his crotch.
No matter how hard he tried, Sloan couldn’t will the lustful fire away. A bullet to the big Indian’s head was his only option to extinguish a new kind of hell on earth.
The clunk of money hitting the desk was like a siren wailing behind the gates of the upper-crust Wellington Crescent neighbourhood. The duffel bag Uncle Toad had finally finished filling with his greasy fingers waited to be scooped up.
Sloan peeled his gaze from Ajax’ and reached for the lump of cash while Fiddler stared down Uncle Toad, who ran the strip club on behalf of the Hellions.
The tension in the air was colder than winter’s breath outside, crackling like boots crunching over hardened snow.
Maggie Blackbird 