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Series: Rebel Wayfarers MC #7
Also in this series: Bear, Jase, Gunny, Mica, Slate
Genres: Romance, MC, Fiction, Erotica, Contemporary
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Also by this author: Bear, Jase, Gunny, Gunny, Mica
Isaiah Rogers grew up on his family farm in Alabama. Loved by his family, he’s a country boy at heart, a southern gentleman by raising.
The path to northern Indiana was twisted and long, but this sensitive man found a comfortable niche as a member of the Rebel Wayfarers, vice-president of their affluent and growing Fort Wayne chapter. Hoss, as he’s now known, retains pieces of the boy from rural Alabama, but life in the club has hardened him, driving home the message time and again that love isn’t safe.
Hope Collins also grew up in Alabama, but their histories could not be more different.
An ill-timed youthful rebellion came with long-lasting consequences. It’s then she finds she’s not an only child after all, her father holding up her half-sister’s failures as a painful lesson before closing the door of her childhood home in her face.
Hoss and Hope’s paths collide when she travels to Fort Wayne, to meet the sister she had gone most of her life without knowing about. For Hoss, from the first moment he laid eyes on Hope, the truth and beauty inside her called to him. Now he will have to find a way to win the woman’s trust and love, while navigating the dangerous currents swirling around the club.
ARC provided by Author/Publisher for honest review.
I just finished Hoss and I just absolutely loved it! This is a part of the Rebel Wayfarers MC series and to me this one could be read as a stand alone, but to get the full effect of the characters I believe you must read the whole series. Plus, you’d be missing out on something by far greater than what you have read in an MC series.
This particular story is Hoss, the VP of the Fort Wayne chapters. You have read him in the previous books, but this book just makes him shine. He’s so freaking sweet, but all alpha in his own way which is what I look for in a book hero. You also meet Hope and Sammy. Hope is Mercy’s half-sister and Sammy is her son. They have had a rough life and when they can’t take anymore, they leave Alabama to start a new life in Indy with her sister. They weren’t expecting much, hell when you read their story you will not blame them for thinking that. What they didn’t expect was to eventually feel they belonged somewhere.
The story is shown in multiple POV’s which is what I love about MariaLisa. She shows things we have already read, but you read them in different perspectives which brought more depth and heart to the story than what I’d initially expected. There were so many times where I was in utter happiness reading this and at times utterly heartbroken with how the story unfolded. No lies!
I was pulled in from the very beginning and I didn’t want to let go. Still don’t. That’s the one thing she does…She makes me feel lost when the story is over, but alas it will never be over for me. In my heart, I will replay scenes that captured the beauty of this story and sit rather impatiently for more!
Rebel Wayfayers forever!!!
From Chapter 17: I need beauty in my life
A few minutes later, he walked back to the room to find she had rolled to her back and was staring up at the ceiling. Lifting her arm, she pointed to a section of ceiling over the window. “Every few seconds there’s a rainbow reflected up there. How is that possible at night? I can’t figure out where it comes from.”
He carefully set the canvas he was carrying by the wall and lay down next to her, reaching into the space between them to capture her hand in his. “Crystals,” he said softly.
“I thought those needed sunlight to cast a rainbow.”
“I have several hanging from the rafter ends outside. Some are positioned for sunshine, so when there aren’t any clouds, the room fairly lights up with the reflections.” The rainbow flashed again and he grinned. “Some are set-up for the security lights, so I can have the rainbows even at night. When the wind blows, even at night sometimes you can catch a dozen or more flashing across the room.”
“Why would you do that? You said you didn’t bring women back to your house.”
Twisting his neck, he looked at her. Now he was the one puzzled, because visitors and beauty didn’t line up in his book. “I don’t. So?”
“Who did you do this for then?”
Turning to look back up at the ceiling, he waited for another flash before softly telling her, “Me. I need beauty in my life, need enough of it to balance out all the darkness and pain I see. This is a small thing, but it pleases me to see it before I go to sleep.”
Twisting to lay on his side facing her, he reached out his hand and swept the hair back from her face. “Like it pleases me to see you, baby.” Tracing the bridge of her nose with his fingertip, he said, “The first time I ever saw you, my initial impression was of beauty and light…endless golden beauty and brilliant light. Then you squatted down next to Sammy and pulled him into your arms, holding him so tightly, engulfing him with your love. I thought you looked like a momma chickadee on a branch, her wings out to cover her chicks and keep them from harm.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reached out to the nightstand and picked up the framed picture of Hope between Mercy and Sammy from that first night. Lying back down, he held it up so they both could see it. “Then Mercy sent me this, and it reinforced those feelings. Seeing you sandwiched between them, covering both of them with your love. Momma chickadee.”
He handed her the frame and levered himself off the bed. “It took me a month, but I finally captured that essence. I called it Mama. Just Mama, because the caring and sweetness shone through, as it does with you.” Picking up the canvas from where it leaned against the wall, he turned it around and looked at the painting again, feeling a strong satisfaction in his chest from the goodness and light the work brought into the world.
Turning the picture, he wasn’t prepared for her reaction. Instead of commenting on his use of light or shading, or even the composition of the piece, after looking at the painting for several quiet moments, she burst into tears. Carelessly, he set the stretched canvas on the floor and lowered himself to the bed, pulling her into his arms. “Baby,” he crooned. “Oh, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
“Is that how you see me?” Her question was muffled, her face pressed deeply into the crook of his neck.
“Strong and beautiful, protective? Yes, baby. I see you exactly like that. Momma chickadee on a branch, daring the world to come and threaten her chick.” He stroked her hair then, twining his fingers at the back of her head, he used his hold to tilt her face up, kissing her lips softly. “Yes, baby.”