My Thoughts
Mason is the man whose story I most wanted to read. I wanted to know about his childhood, how he came to lead his brothers, and I so wanted him to find his happily ever after.
Mason was a leader from the beginning. He came from poor beginnings and found his way to a new family that enriched his life in so many ways. I loved how he took care of them all not just by leading, but also by loving them. He just has such an incredible heart. I so loved that he found his match in Willa. She is just perfect for him. My heart hurt for him when things didn't turn out with him and Mica, but then came Willa and I completely understood. I absolutely loved Mason's story and I can't wait to read more.
I give Mason 5 hearts!
About the Book
Mason is the man whose story I most wanted to read. I wanted to know about his childhood, how he came to lead his brothers, and I so wanted him to find his happily ever after.
Mason was a leader from the beginning. He came from poor beginnings and found his way to a new family that enriched his life in so many ways. I loved how he took care of them all not just by leading, but also by loving them. He just has such an incredible heart. I so loved that he found his match in Willa. She is just perfect for him. My heart hurt for him when things didn't turn out with him and Mica, but then came Willa and I completely understood. I absolutely loved Mason's story and I can't wait to read more.
I give Mason 5 hearts!
About the Book
Davis Mason grew up dirt-floor poor in
the rolling hills of rural Kentucky, escaping that life only to find himself
adrift on the hard streets of Chicago in his teens. Determined to never again
feel the sting of poverty and hunger, he is willing to do whatever is necessary
to ensure he has enough power and money to make that happen.
Introduced to what seemed a perfect
brotherhood within a motorcycle club, Mason is shaped and honed into a deadly
weapon by their sadistic president. As he slowly works his way up the ranks to
gain control of the club, he’s resolved to make it better…stronger, able to
withstand any challenge.
Betrayed by his bloodline, he cuts all
ties with family and begins the process of building a new one. Rising like a
phoenix from the ashes of the club he destroyed, he founds the Rebel Wayfarers
MC and surrounds himself with loyal, trustworthy brothers. Mason throws himself
headlong into the hard job of making certain his brothers have everything
needed for themselves and their families, and he works to balance those needs
within both the well-mannered citizen world of business, and with the anything-goes
biker world of the MC.
Flirting with happiness time and again,
just when Mason believes it’s finally within his grasp, he’s torn between what
he wants…and what he knows he should do. He finally has the security and family
he’s always wanted, but will Mason ever find the love and passion he craves?
“When
a man is denied the right to live the life he believes in, he has no choice but
to become an outlaw.”
– Nelsen Mandela
Excerpt
From Chapter 2: Monaco
“Boy, you hung onto your response a mite long,” Deacon said,
and Mason felt John and Ripper easing away, giving him room. Fuck, he thought, taking a deep breath.
This would be a repeat of a scene acted out many times since he joined the club. Deacon was determined to break
him, make him bow, and Mason was exactly as determined never to give any man
that kind of power over him again. He had vowed his father would be the last
man to beat this type of response out of
him. And, even if he didn’t know it, Deacon’s level of discipline fell far
short of his father’s anyway, lacking the arrogance and conviction that came
from believing oneself God’s mouthpiece.
He stood, waiting, watching Deacon saunter across the room.
“I believe I just said I want you to get your fucking ass to the fucking
Monaco.” He swept his hand out, indicating the room. “And yet, I note you’re
still here in front of me, standing in my goddamn
clubhouse.”
“Our clubhouse,” Mason said before he could clamp his lips
closed. Fuck, he thought, there’s the gasoline. He was the match;
anyone could see how his presence lit Deacon up like a bonfire. These days, any
excuse was enough for the man, and with this fuel, now everyone in shouting
distance would get to witness the fucking inferno blaze high and hot. Before he could even settle his feet into a
bracing stance, Deacon was on him, fist punching the side of his head hard.
He learned early on that fighting back wasn’t an option. You
didn’t hit your president and expect to keep breathing air. Deacon quickly hit
him again, fist to his temple. Dazed, Mason stumbled and fell to one knee then
climbed back up, fists clenched at his sides, gaze locked on Deacon’s eyes. “My
fucking clubhouse.” Deacon grunted, coming at him again, taking his time
knocking Mason to his hands and knees. He shook his head hard before standing
again, hot blood welling in his mouth. They had repeated
this dance a dozen times before Deacon stepped back, breathing hard and glaring
as Mason staggered to his feet once again. He swallowed the mouthful of blood,
clenching his jaw, waiting.
“Get your fucking ass to the Monaco. You got me?” Deacon
leaned forward, putting his fleshy lips next to Mason’s ear as he said, “You
ain’t gonna ever learn. My fucking club, my fucking
clubhouse, and you’re my fucking pussy if I want it that way. And, boy…you sure
the fuck won’t fight me back. Will you, pussy boy?”
“I got you, Prez,” he gritted out, ignoring the rest, and
waited. Waited to discover if this was over, waited to determine if he could
hold himself in check once again. Waited to see if today would be the day one
of them would die.
Deacon pulled back, his gaze scanning Mason up and down, and
then without another word, he turned and stalked out of the room. Mason
clenched his eyes closed, tightly clamping a lid on the pain, ears still
ringing from the blows he had taken.
“Fuck,” Ripper said, pressing a bandana into Mason’s hand.
“He fucked you up, Mason.”
“You like pushing the
old man’s buttons, don’t you?” John laughed shrilly, excitement evident in his voice at the promise of more
action. “Clean up. Let’s get rolling.”
“I’m still fucking standing, ain’t I?” Mason asked, wiping
the blood from his face and neck, feeling a slow trickle still coming from his
nose. He swallowed the blood in his mouth again, the bright taste of copper
making him sick. Reaching up, he poked at his split lip with one finger,
wincing at the pain. “Still standing.”
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About the Author
Raised in the south, MariaLisa learned about the magic of
books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local
library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she
says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and found I
adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available, I’ve been known
to read the back of the cereal box.”
A hockey fan, hiker, gamer, and single mom of a special
needs son, she embraces her inner geek and has been working in the tech field
for a publishing company for a couple decades.
Music is a driving passion, and she says, “I love music of
nearly any genre — jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass,
rap, hip hop … you name it, I listen to it. I can often be seen dancing through
the house in the early mornings. But I really, REALLY love live music. My
favorite thing with music is seeing bands in small, dive bars [read: small,
intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection of premium tequila,
then that’s a plus!”
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