DINGOCELEE
A chance encounter in a chat room just may be the saving grace I’ve needed all along. My father’s enemies are closing in, and my time just might be running out. Thank God Dingo and his brothers will do anything to keep me safe–even if it means going up against the most vile of criminals around. But the more Dingo tries to protect me, the more I know he’s hurting too.
Can two fractured hearts find a way to heal together?
NOTE: This is book 7 in the Grimm Wolves MC series. It is a standalone however reading the previous books would give you a fuller understanding (back stories, minor characters, etc.) of the series. They are available below to request to review but not required to read before Fractured Hearts. Also, Running Wild is also suggested to be read prior - as Fractured Hearts begins where this book left off.
I can feel the intensity of her stare but what I’m not prepared for is her hand grabbing mine, squeezing tightly. And what’s worse is how good it feels to have that connection. So in silence, with our hands holding on to each other, we head toward the next truck stop to grab some grub and probably water the dog too. All while I’m figuring how I have to find a way to ask my prez, Brick, if not only Celee can stay at the clubhouse but also now with her furry friend. This keeps getting more and more fucked up by the mile. But just one look in those icy-blue eyes and I’m gone. Shit, are my brothers gonna have a field day with me after all the shit I’ve thrown at them over the years. I hear that old saying my momma used to say, something about what goes around comes around to hit you in the face when you least expect it. Ain’t that the goddamn truth.
We drive for about another twenty or twenty-five minutes before a huge truck stop pops up on the right-hand side. Making sure to keep my eyes open wide, I pull in to a pump first to fuel up. Celee pops the door open then pulls it back, slamming it shut.
“Frank, can you do me a favor? I need a leash for the puppy. Can’t just let him go out here with all these folks around, don’t know if he’ll run or not. Or worse, get taken, hit by a car or truck. Please?”
“Yeah, I’ll run in to get lil’ shit a leash and see if they have some puppy food. You want me to grab you some food?”
As we go back and forth, I see a few truckers checking us out but nothing out of the ordinary. I mean, Presley’s car is the shit, not to mention the smokin’ hot babe in the front seat holding a cute as fuck puppy. Finishing up with filling the tank, I complete the process and head in to pay. Right when I walk past a pretty old and beat-up tractor with no trailer, I hear some asshole run his fuckin’ mouth.
“Look at pretty boy, got himself a fancy car and an even prettier whore. How does a little punk shit like him get the world handed to him while us working stiffs get absolutely nothing? That’s why I keep spouting off to ya that life ain’t fair, for Christ’s sake.”
I try to ignore the son of a bitch but he keeps running his trap until finally, after he disrespects Celee, I let loose.
“What is your fucking problem, old man? Can’t get it up no more so you gotta be a dick to everyone else? You don’t know me and you surely don’t know that woman sittin’ in that car. What gives you the right to call her a whore or bitch? Motherfucker, today’s your lucky day ’cause I’m gonna hold myself back from knockin’ you right on your stupid old ass. Mind your own business and stay the fuck away from me and mine.”
I pound into the store where everyone is smiling and clapping.
.png)
D.M. Earl is a U.S.A. Today Bestselling Author who spins stories about real life situations with characters that are authentic, genuine, and sincere. Each of her stories allow the characters to come to life with each turn of the page while they try to find their HEA through much drama and angst. D.M. finds ideas for her next story from within those around her and what she experiences in daily life. Each book has a part of her left behind in it. She lives in Northwest Indiana married to her best friend who was instrumental in the start of her writing career in 2014. When not writing D.M. loves to read, play with her seven fur-babies (yeah crazy) and ride her Harley Dyna Lowrider.
No comments:
Post a Comment