(Swift Angel MC)
Motorcycle Club Romance, First Responders, Suspense
Date Published: February 28, 2025
Loyalty runs deep and secrets simmer beneath the surface in this tale of
forbidden love.
Akira -- I’m the daughter of a Dixie Reaper, but this isn’t the
life I want. I’m tired of being overprotected, and forced to follow
rules I don’t necessarily agree with. The moment I laid eyes on Logan,
I knew my life was about to change. I also knew I was in for a rough ride.
Why? Because he’s a paramedic and part of the Swift Angels MC, and
let’s just say my dad’s club functions more in the gray area.
Logan is everything I’ve ever wanted in a guy. I knew we
couldn’t sneak around forever, but I also didn’t count on the
series of storms about to hit us head-on. Not only is my dad’s club
dead set against my relationship with Logan, but my instincts are telling me
something bigger is going on.
Logan -- Forbidden fruit. That’s exactly what Akira is. My VP has
warned me away from her, but what can I say? The heart wants what the heart
wants. No matter what obstacles we face, I’ll make Akira mine!
I’ve never backed down from a fight, and I’m not about to start
now. But when a string of troubling incidents seems to target both of us, I
have to wonder am I the one in danger or is my sweet Akira at risk? Either
way, I refuse to let them get away with it… even if it means the
Swift Angels and Dixie Reapers have to work together, because there’s
nothing I won’t do to keep Akira safe.
Are you ready for a suspenseful journey filled with passion, betrayal, and
a fight for a love that could change everything?
WARNING: Emergency Date is Book 2 in the Swift Angels MC series. It can be
read as a stand-alone, but you may enjoy the story more if the series is
read in order. This is a slow-burn romantic suspense set in a small town.
Guaranteed HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger for the main couple! For
readers 18+ due to adult situations, bad language, and violence.
EXCERPT
The muggy, humid air hung heavy as I pushed my way through the oak doors of
the bar. The din of conversation, the rhythmic clink of glasses, and the
occasional burst of laughter washed over me like a wave. The air was thick
with the scent of stale beer, sweat, and desperation, a cocktail that clung
to the back of my throat.
I blinked, letting my eyes adjust to the dim, smoky interior. The bar was a
labyrinth of wood and shadows, crammed with mismatched furniture and a
motley crew of patrons. A middle-aged couple argued over a half-empty bottle
of wine, their voices rising above the din. A group of young men, faces
flushed and eyes glazed, cackled over a game of darts, their laughter laced
with forced bravado. A lone man sat hunched over a glass of whiskey, his
gaze fixed on the amber liquid swirling within.
My gaze drifted from face to face, searching for a familiar haven in this
sea of strangers. Was I wasting my time? Akira had said she’d be
working tonight. I still didn’t like the fact she’d chosen this
place for employment, but I also knew her family hated it -- which was why
she’d done it. There were times I liked that defiant side of her.
Hell, if she didn’t act out, we probably wouldn’t be
together.
I caught a glimpse of movement across the room. She was there, a vision of
grace and confidence, expertly weaving through the throng of bodies with a
tray of drinks balanced effortlessly on her palm. I could sit here and watch
her forever. Well, maybe not. That might come off as creepy.
The way she moved was mesmerizing, each step fluid and purposeful. Her dark
hair flowed around her face, bouncing with every step. I had yet to find
anything about her I disliked. Okay, not entirely true. Her family left a
bit to be desired, but she couldn’t control that. Besides, one of my
club brothers had grown up with her in that same environment and he’d
turned out just fine.
I found myself drawn to her like a moth to a flame, instinctively guiding
my steps toward an empty table in her section. As I slid into the chair, she
turned, our eyes meeting for a fleeting moment. In that instant, the world
around us faded away. It was just her and me, locked in a silent dialogue
that resonated deep within my soul. A spark ignited within me, a spark of
curiosity, of desire, of something I couldn’t quite define.
“What can I get for you?” Her voice was a low, melodic murmur,
a stark contrast to the raucous symphony of the bar.
I fought back a smile. Even in this place, we had to be careful. The last
thing I needed was word getting back to the Dixie Reapers that a Swift Angel
was sniffing around one of their girls.
“A beer, please,” I said.
“Coming right up,” she replied, a hint of amusement dancing in
her eyes.
As she turned to leave, I couldn’t help but watch her every move,
memorizing the way her body persuaded with each step, the way her hips
swinging in a subtle rhythm speaking of a hidden sensuality. There was
something about her, an aura of mystery and resilience that captivated me.
I’d seen countless people in this line of work, but there was
something different about her, something that set her apart from the
rest.
My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a glass being placed before
me. “Here you go,” she said, her voice soft yet assertive.
“Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you,” I replied, my gaze locked on hers. I saw a glimpse
of the woman beneath the surface, a woman who was both strong and
vulnerable, confident yet enigmatic.
She held my gaze for a moment, her eyes searching mine with an intensity
that sent shivers down my spine. In that one look, I could almost hear all
the things she wanted to say, but didn’t dare. Not while we were in
public. With a slight nod, she turned and walked away, leaving me with a
head full of questions and my heart pounding with a newfound rhythm.
I took a long sip of my beer, the bitter liquid doing little to quench my
thirst. Probably because I hadn’t really come here for the beer.
As I watched her work, I felt a pull, an inexplicable connection drawing me
to her, a sense of destiny I couldn’t ignore. Which was why I’d
come here looking for her. I couldn’t take her on an official date, so
I’d content myself with drinking a beer and watching her work. Even if
my club brother, Dawson, had warned me away from her.
Akira.
From the first moment I’d laid eyes on her, I’d been
captivated. Not a day had gone by without me thinking of her. It had only
taken a few conversations before we’d exchanged phone numbers. Now we
talked pretty much every day and met when we could.
My nape prickled, as if some sixth sense was telling me something was about
to go horribly wrong. My gaze swept the room and landed on a man at the bar.
He wore his too-many-drinks like a badge, his movements jerky and voice too
loud.
I watched Akira approach, her steps measured, her voice a low murmur lost
in the rising tide of noise. The firmness in her stance spoke louder than
words. His lips twisted into a snarl as he leaned closer to her.
I’d seen these situations turn on a dime, and I wouldn’t let
her become collateral damage. I braced myself, ready to jump to her defense
at any moment.
But Akira stood her ground, chin jutting out in defiance. Her voice, though
quiet, held an edge. The man’s face twisted, hand rising like a hammer
about to fall. I was already moving, my feet eating up the distance.
Then, the unexpected happened. His hand, a fleshy claw, clamped onto her
backside, digging in like a tick. Better than him hitting her, but… a
red haze flooded my vision, as fury I didn’t know I possessed boiling
over.
I was there before I registered it, pure instinct propelling me forward.
The need to protect, to shield, eclipsed everything else. My path through
the crowd was a blur.
As I reached them, I saw the fire in her eyes, the tight set of her jaw as
she turned, ready to unleash her own storm. In that moment, I knew she could
handle this, but the primal urge to intervene was a tide I couldn’t
hold back.
My hand clamped onto his wrist, my grip like iron. I’d promised to
heal people, to help, but right now all I wanted to do was beat him
senseless.
“Don’t. Touch. Her.” I narrowed my gaze at him.
He stumbled back, eyes widening. My face must have been a mirror reflecting
the inferno inside. He opened his mouth, but the words wouldn’t come,
my expression seeming to silence him.
“Get out,” I said. “Now.”
He hesitated a moment, then thought better of it. A muttered curse, a toss
of bills onto the bar, then he turned and walked away.
I turned to Akira, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs.
“Are you okay?”
Her eye held a spark I couldn’t decipher. “I had it under
control.”
“I know,” I said, the adrenaline receding. “But I
couldn’t just stand by.”
Something flickered across her face. She studied me, a long, searching
look.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the words barely audible over the
bar’s murmur.
I nodded, the tension slowly draining from my limbs.
“Anytime.”
The music and chatter resumed at its previous volume, but I blocked it all
out. Akira turned back to her work, her movements jerky and tense. I could
see the way she held her breath, the way her shoulders were hunched.
I wanted to just leave her be, but my feet moved toward her.
About the Author
Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC
Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde
immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible
women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still
managing to end on a satisfying note each time.
When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new
plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book.
She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies.
Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and
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Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde
Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok:
@changelingpress
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