Breakdown: Mojave Boys MC, #1

By Claire St. Rose

This is book 1 of the Mojave Boys MC series! Books 2 and 3 are available everywhere now!

A man like me takes what he wants – and doesn't take no for an answer.

Maya is a jewel in this godforsaken desert.

Not to mention the finest piece of a$$ I've seen in a long time.

But she's not gonna be as easy to get in bed as my usual fare of dirty club girls.

She's a professional model who gives as good as she gets.

Fiery, feisty, and independent as hell, she says she isn't gonna let a cocky outlaw like me break her down.

But she doesn't know just how far I'm willing to go to get what I want.

I've made a career out of succeeding where no other man could.

And this frontier isn't gonna be any different.

Besides – Maya is in my world now.

This is Mojave Boys MC territory: a place where blood is cheap, where might makes right, where bullets fly fast and thick.

If she wants to make it out of here alive, she'll have to listen very, very carefully.

Because I'm only gonna say it once:

Tonight, baby…

You're coming home with me.

• Language: English
• Publisher: eBook Publishing World
• Release date: Jul 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393976233

Book preview

Breakdown: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Mojave Boys MC Book 1)

By Claire St. Rose

A man like me takes what he wants – and doesn’t take no for an answer.

MAYA IS A JEWEL IN this godforsaken desert.

Not to mention the finest piece of a$$ I’ve seen in a long time.

But she’s not gonna be as easy to get in bed as my usual fare of dirty club girls.

She’s a professional model who gives as good as she gets.

Fiery, feisty, and independent as hell, she says she isn’t gonna let a cocky outlaw like me break her down.

But she doesn’t know just how far I’m willing to go to get what I want.

I’ve made a career out of succeeding where no other man could.

And this frontier isn’t gonna be any different.

Besides – Maya is in my world now.

This is Mojave Boys MC territory: a place where blood is cheap, where might makes right, where bullets fly fast and thick.

If she wants to make it out of here alive, she’ll have to listen very, very carefully.

Because I’m only gonna say it once:

Tonight, baby...

You’re coming home with me.

Chapter One

Adventure rarely entered into Maya Marriot’s life, beyond visiting exotic locations for photo shoots or meeting the random guy at a release party. But as she took a seat on a dirty stool at the bar in this local dive, she smiled to herself. If she didn’t find some trouble on her own, it would definitely find her.

Her agent always urged her to fly to her scheduled shoots, whether on a commercial jet or a privately chartered jet, but she didn’t feel like sitting on a plane, sipping a cocktail and staring out the window while she listened to Franz jabber on the phone. Instead, she’d rented a sweet little convertible and plotted out the drive from Houston to Los Angeles. And she’d purposely taken a route through the Mojave Desert. After all, what equaled greater adventure than driving through 48,000 square miles of nothing...where anything could happen?

She hadn’t exactly planned where she would stop for the night, and when she’d rolled into a town that didn’t exist on her map called Wheelie, Arizona, a few miles from the California border, she’d been ready to stop. The town consisted of an old motel, a gas station that didn’t accept credit cards but still took checks, and this dive joint, called The Wheelie Bar.

Motorcycles lined the front of the bar, and inside, she stared at the backs of leather vests everywhere, admiring the artistic design of the logo. The letters ‘MB’ had been threaded as a single winding line created by a green and brown snake with a rattle at the end. Its head had horns, and its eyes were beady but glared with red embroidery. Beneath the intricate logo, she read ‘Mojave Boys Sidewinders’.

It intrigued her greatly.

You lost? The man behind the bar addressed her gruffly, but Maya blew it off. She dealt with Alpha males and machismo every day of her life.

She shook her head. Just a stop along the way to my destination.

He huffed and said something under his breath. Maya didn’t catch the words, but she caught the tone. And proceeded to ignore it. I suppose you’re looking for some sort of fruity drink or a spritzer. We got none of that here.

Smirking, Maya shook her head. Don’t judge a book by its cover, Bull. I’ll take a whiskey sour and a shot of Jack, straight up.

Sure, the guy said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Yet, he moved to fill the order.

Your problems holding your liquor don’t reflect on anyone else, Joe. Let the lady prove herself. The voice was like a slather of butter spread over freshly toasted French bread, and it made Maya’s mouth water even before she turned around to see to whom it belonged.

She had noticed him instantly when she walked in. He exuded masculinity with the cockiest swagger in his step she’d ever seen. He wore one of the vests over a button-down black shirt with a menacing skull that smiled back at her. His jeans fit his ass like a glove, and they came down straight over black leather boots scuffed and dirty from wear and tear.

The green bandana around his head did nothing to take away from the rugged sexiness of his appearance, his dark brown curls damp with sweat as they peeked out. He could have shaved his five o’clock shadow and graced the cover of some of the same magazines Maya posed for, but she wouldn’t change a thing about him. He sparked instant arousal, as she finally met the emeralds that shone where others had dull eyes.

He was rock-hard muscle from head to toe, and his scent overwhelmed her, a combination of leather, desert, and pure male sexual energy. The feelings he awakened within her had Maya calling up images of a praying mantis mating ritual. She wanted to eat him alive.

He casually took the barstool next to her, leaning an elbow on the counter that allowed him to face her. His body language told Maya exactly what he wanted, and his eyes confirmed, as they roamed her from top to bottom and back again. She was used to that; after all, she was a model and her body was her ticket to fame. Still, her opinion of the guy darkened a bit. He seemed a bit arrogant.

I can’t imagine you landed here on purpose, he said gruffly. Perhaps Maya was a little out of place in her flirty little sundress and sandals that wrapped around her ankles. However, she didn’t like the insinuation that she felt she was too good for this particular bar. How’d you end up in Wheelie?

She raised an eyebrow at him and said, I was driving through and decided to stop here. It seemed charming.

He laughed out loud, tilting his head back and letting it ring in the air. A shiver went down her spine, and Maya had a vision of waterfalls of honey and cream. She wanted to lick her lips, so delicious was the sound of his humor. Charming. That’s the last word I’d use for our little blip on the map.

Maya scoffed. It’s not even a blip. It’s not on GPS—not on the map. If I hadn’t seen it, I wouldn’t believe it exists.

He nodded. That’s the way we like it.

His cryptic words had Maya curious, but she didn’t ask any questions. The bartender—Joe, apparently—returned with her order, doubled, and pushed one set in front of her and the other in front of the attractive man on the stool beside her. Okay, Vance, Joe said, looking less than pleased. You put that away, and we’ll talk.

Maya recognized the challenge and wondered if maybe Vance, as the bartender called him, didn’t drink much. But the rough, handsome man shrugged and held up the shot of whiskey in a toast. To finding little gems in the desert. His eyes roamed her body again, and she knew he wasn’t referring to Wheelie.

Still, Maya liked his audacity, even if his arrogance turned her off. He was too gorgeous for her to want to walk away. She touched her shot to his and said, To diamonds in the rough, before throwing back the burning liquid. She chuckled when he chased his with the whiskey sour, refusing to chase hers at all as her chest and stomach grew warm and fuzzy.

He stared at her with an air of respect. Where the hell did you come from, woman?

She chuckled. I’m surrounded by high levels of testosterone every day. I learned fast that white wine and Irish cream didn’t hack it with the big boys.

Well, you’re not Danika Patrick. She doesn’t hold a candle to you. I don’t know of another female race car driver, so where did you get balls as big as mine? he asked with a devastating, crooked grin.

Was he that pleased with himself in the bedroom? She could picture him above her with that cocky smile as he made her cry out in ecstasy. Shoving the wayward thought aside