Made to Riot: The Ancestors MC, #1

By Nicole Fox

Made to Riot is book 1 of The Ancestors MC trilogy. Books 2 and 3, Made to Beg and Made to Survive are available everywhere now!

It starts with a drink. It ends with a baby in my womb.

"One night only" is a slippery slope.
I fell hard for the biker – then he disappeared.
But he's back now, and this time, when he leaves…
He's dragging me with him – whether I like it or not.

ANYA

He showed up in my emergency room looking like the devil had worked him over with a tire iron.
But Bryce Johnson didn't want a nurse.

He wanted a gun, a car…
And a hostage.

And lucky for me, I was his first pick.

I'd always wanted out of this small town.
But I never thought my ticket to freedom would barge into my life like this.

A gorgeous biker with windswept hair and inky tattoos crawling over his muscular shoulders?
He might've looked like a dream.
But the outlaw f**ked like a nightmare.
Like an animal.
Like a brutal, savage beast.

I'd never been with a man like him before.
And after the first kiss, the first touch, the first night, I knew:
I'd never want another man again.

But landing in the biker's bed was just the start of this madness.
Now, I'm riding shotgun with a killer behind the wheel.
And there's no telling if I'll make it out alive.

BRYCE

Life for me as an outlaw biker has always been simple: take the job and get it done.
By any means necessary.

Some men were born to create chaos.
To burn things down.
To f**k sh!t up.
And God knows I'm one of them.

I've always managed to escape the mayhem alive.
But this time, I might've bitten off more than I can chew.
Even though I've done dirty things before, and there's no doubt in my mind I'll do them again.
And I thought I'd learned the hard way not to get distracted when there's a mission on my plate.

But the curvy nurse with the shining eyes is testing my focus.

She's a do-gooder, a saint in scrubs, a angel if ever there was one.
She deserves a white picket fence, a boring-a$$ husband, and a few obnoxious, giggling little kids.

But she ain't gonna get that with me.

Because my world is a hell of a lot different.
My world is mobs and MCs, suspense and submission, whiskey and women.
I drink fast and ride hard.
I f**k. I break. I hurt.

It sure as hell ain't for everyone.

So I did the fair thing:
I pointed my gun at her head and gave her a choice.
She can either run for cover.
Or she can get in the car with me, and see where the road takes her.

That's just the beginning of our story.
And I'll make a vow to you right now.
This will end only one way:
With my ring on her finger, my brand on her skin…
And my baby in her belly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MBK Hanson Inc.
• Release date: Feb 4, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386311188

Nicole Fox

Nicole Fox writes smart, sexy mafia romance novels. She is a crazy cat lady in her late 30s with a coffee addiction, an overactive imagination, and a husband who somehow puts up with her impulsive need to keep buying new plants for their house. Sign up for her mailing list at http://bit.ly/NicoleFoxMailingList. 

Book preview

Made to Riot: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Ancestors MC Book 1)

By Nicole Fox

It starts with a drink. It ends with a baby in my womb.

ONE NIGHT ONLY IS a slippery slope.

I fell hard for the biker – then he disappeared.

But he’s back now, and this time, when he leaves...

He’s dragging me with him – whether I like it or not.

ANYA

He showed up in my emergency room looking like the devil had worked him over with a tire iron.

But Bryce Johnson didn’t want a nurse.

He wanted a gun, a car...

And a hostage.

And lucky for me, I was his first pick.

I’d always wanted out of this small town.

But I never thought my ticket to freedom would barge into my life like this.

A gorgeous biker with windswept hair and inky tattoos crawling over his muscular shoulders?

He might’ve looked like a dream.

But the outlaw f**ked like a nightmare.

Like an animal.

Like a brutal, savage beast.

I’d never been with a man like him before.

And after the first kiss, the first touch, the first night, I knew:

I’d never want another man again.

But landing in the biker’s bed was just the start of this madness.

Now, I’m riding shotgun with a killer behind the wheel.

And there’s no telling if I’ll make it out alive.

BRYCE

Life for me as an outlaw biker has always been simple: take the job and get it done.

By any means necessary.

Some men were born to create chaos.

To burn things down.

To f**k sh!t up.

And God knows I’m one of them.

I’ve always managed to escape the mayhem alive.

But this time, I might’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

Even though I’ve done dirty things before, and there’s no doubt in my mind I’ll do them again.

And I thought I’d learned the hard way not to get distracted when there’s a mission on my plate.

But the curvy nurse with the shining eyes is testing my focus.

She’s a do-gooder, a saint in scrubs, a angel if ever there was one.

She deserves a white picket fence, a boring-a$$ husband, and a few obnoxious, giggling little kids.

But she ain’t gonna get that with me.

Because my world is a hell of a lot different.

My world is mobs and MCs, suspense and submission, whiskey and women.

I drink fast and ride hard.

I f**k. I break. I hurt.

It sure as hell ain’t for everyone.

So I did the fair thing:

I pointed my gun at her head and gave her a choice.

She can either run for cover.

Or she can get in the car with me, and see where the road takes her.

That’s just the beginning of our story.

And I’ll make a vow to you right now.

This will end only one way:

With my ring on her finger, my brand on her skin...

And my baby in her belly.

Chapter One

Anya

F our whiskey sours , coming up!

I looked with surprise at Brandi Pyle, my best friend, who’d just placed the order. Her pretty but heavily made-up face was wearing an expression of mischief.

You got another round? I asked, yelling over the commotion of the rest of the bar.

Brandi leaned up against the bar between me and the burly guy wearing a dirty ball cap and a sleeveless shirt who happened to be sitting next to me.

You look like you could stand to loosen up! she yelled.

She was a little unsteady on her feet, and as she waited for the drinks she brushed up against the man next to her. He turned around in his seat, a pissed-off look on his country boy features, ready to have at whoever had been stupid enough to get into his personal space. But when he saw it was a cute, tattooed little lady like Brandi, his disposition changed pretty darn quickly.

Oh, hey there, said Brandi, lapping up the male attention like she always did.

Before she could start her routine, however, the four drinks were placed on the bar in front of her.

Brandi, focus, I said, gesturing to the bartender, a fat little guy with a shaved head, arms crossed over a big belly, and ugly features in an expression of hurried impatience.

Oh, right—sorry, said Brandi, pulling her sparkly red purse up and poking through it.

This round’s on me, said the man at the bar, a broad smile on his face. A girl like you shouldn’t ever pay for her own drinks.

Why, thank you, said Brandi, now into the who, little ol’ me? part of her routine.

I shook my head and smiled, ready to get back to our table.

Let’s go, man eater, I said, wrapping my fingers around Brandi’s slim arm and grabbing the small tray holding the drinks with the other.

Aw, said Brandi as I pulled her away, her eyes on the man. But I was making a new friend.

I chuckled to myself; all it took was a little flutter of those big green eyes and the men were putty in her hands.

Letting go of Brandi as I took hold of the tray, she and I weaved through the tightly-packed crowd of the roadhouse. The place was a zoo, to put it mildly—the bar packed full of roughneck guys looking to drink and fight and skinny little girls hoping for a dance with them. Country music blasted over the speakers, and the neon signs that adorned the walls gave the place a disorienting ambiance. There was a low roar of chatter, and every now and then a glass breaking or a man yelling at another rose out of the din.

And on top of everything, it was miles from home, closer to the city where Brandi worked than to me. To say I was out of my element was to put it mildly. But Brandi, as she was so good at doing, had managed to talk me into coming out with her and a few of her coworkers from the strip club where they worked. They weren’t normally my crowd, but I’d been working like a dog over the last few weeks, and a night out of drink did sound nice.

’Bout damn time, said Tiffany, a dark-haired girl with olive skin, eyes done up with too much mascara, and big fake tits.

She took her drink from the tray eagerly as I slid into the curved seat of the booth.

"We was wondering if you two got ...