You can take a girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of the girl. That’s why Crash McClanahan, ruthless enforcer for the Iron Ride bikers, is all wrong for me.
I never wear white after Labor Day. He never leaves the house without his leathers. I’m monograms and minivans. He’s bar fights and Harleys. You get the idea.
I’m glad he vanished after our one night together, because he’s a distraction I don’t need. I’ve laying low in Manhattan, trying to turn over a new leaf after a lifetime of bad behavior.
Unfortunately, it looks like karma’s caught up to me. I accidentally witness an incident of shockingly rude behavior – murder! – and now I’m in a killer’s cross-hairs. And the one man who can keep me alive? The man who gave me the ride of my life and then left me by the roadside – Crash McClanahan.