After five years in the slammer, I just have to get through this parole to return to my life as the VP of the Horseman MC. I know how to play this game: follow their rules, be a good boy and get through it.

But then I met my new social worker, and all my intentions to be a good boy went right out the window. One look at her, and all I want to do is be bad—if being bad means getting my hands on my sexy social worker, who turns out to be none other than my childhood best friend’s sister.

I never stuck around in this town long enough to see the woman she grew up to be, but now that I’ve got my eyes on her, I’m not going anywhere. Not unless it’s with her.

And then, just when I get what I want, it all disappears. I’ll scorch the earth to find her because no one takes my woman.

This MC bad boy is fresh out of prison and about to fall in love with his social worker, who is his childhood best friend's sister. Their lives couldn't be more opposite but they come together in this work romance about the good girl and the boy from the wrong side of the tracks.

THIS IS A 18,000-WORD STEAMY, INSTALOVE MC WORKPLACE ROMANCE. EXPECT CURSING, VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC SEX BUT 100% COMMITMENT TO EACH OTHER.

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Kick-off 2023 with a short slice of heaven.

Your favorite instalove romance authors have come together to bring you a fun-sized selection of mafia men, billionaires, best friends, enemies, and more. Whether you like your short kings dangerous or sweet, these men will show you that height doesn’t have to get in the way of true love.

Short Kings: proving you don’t have to be tall to have it all.

Sneak Peek:

I wasn’t a big man by any means. At 5’7, I’d never been accused of being tall. But when a space was too short for me, you knew it wasn’t made for adults. 

I ducked into the small area to reach the weight plate someone had tucked away in a crawl space. It was a stupid place for weightlifting equipment if you were going to claim to have a gym on-site. 

“Keenan?” 

“Fuck!” The back of my head slammed against the ceiling, and stars ricocheted before my eyes. A goose egg bloomed under my fingers as I rubbed my scalp and turned toward Sabrina, the halfway house manager. “Can I help you with something?” I blinked past the stars to focus on her freckled face.

I wasn’t under any illusions that I wasn’t being watched twenty-four-seven in this place. My every movement was tracked as they waited for me to slip up so they could send me back to the pen. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. Not here. There wasn’t a chance I was going back. 

“I’m afraid I have some bad news.” She gave me a half-assed consolation grin that spreads her pink lipstick sideways across her face. It made her look even less genuine than her neutral expression. 

“Bad news?” My mind rolled through the Rolodex of options that might be considered “bad news” if you squinted. My parents? Already dead. My sister? Didn’t talk to me and hadn’t for at least two decades. My friends? Sabrina wouldn’t be coming to give me bad news about them. According to her and my social worker, it was better for my rehabilitation if I cut all ties to them. Plus, my secret phone would be blowing up. 

“Unfortunately, Dale has had to be reassigned to another facility.” Her face screwed up, intriguing me as to why Dale, my social worker, was reassigned. Did that kind of thing even happen without lots of advanced planning? “We hope your new social worker will be able to get in today to meet you. I know you have work later, but would you mind meeting them over a break?” 

“Like a fifteen? ‘Cause I don’t want to lose my whole damn lunch to bureaucracy. Dale’s reassignment isn’t my fucking problem, and I shouldn’t lose the well-earned rest time I get due to your issues.” 

Sabrina’s face magically softened as she smiled understandingly. “Oh, of course. You know how important getting back into a routine and real life is for us—how important it is to your rehab. It’ll only be a fifteen, I promise.” 

I eyed her wearily and rubbed the bump on my head again before nodding. “Yeah, all right, that’s fine.” 

“Great, you start at one?” I nodded. “Perfect. They’ll meet you at 2:30.” 

“Sure. Mind if I finish my workout now?” 

Sabrina looked over the machine I’d been trying to fix before casually letting her eyes drift across my biceps. She shook her head like she needed a reminder I was bad with a capital B. “Of course, enjoy your you-time.” She twisted around and clicked out of the room on her kitten heels.

I shook my head in disbelief before grabbing the weight plate. This time, as I ducked back under the crawl space, I stayed low to avoid giving myself a concussion.

I gave up after another half-hour when I realized half the equipment was put away because it was broken. It annoyed me, especially since I had to play by their rules. The least they could do was provide me with entertainment while I did. 

After showering and getting ready for work, I hit a coffee shop before heading to my buddy’s place. Little did all these brown-nosers know, but the guy I’d gotten a job with was a club friend. He owned a scrapyard, which was useful for the club when we needed to get rid of stuff. It was also a huge lot, so it wasn't unusual if my social worker showed up and I wasn’t there immediately. As long as I was in the area, it was easy to get back to the office without raising suspicion. 

Which was perfect for working for the club under the radar. 

I grabbed the door as it swung open, and a patron walked out. Before I could step through, another woman slid past me into the shop without thanks. I lifted my eyebrow as my gaze roamed over her ass appreciatively. She flicked her bleached blonde hair over her shoulder as she approached the counter. She was taller than me, although that could be a by-product of her massive heels. 

I traced the line of her stockings up the back of her legs, admiring her ass once more. She stepped out of my view, revealing the barista who didn’t bother to hide her smirk as she caught me checking out the blonde bimbo. 

“See anything you’d like?” The corner of her mouth quirked slightly, puckering her heart-shaped lips.

I didn’t usually take kindly to being teased. If anyone made a height joke in my vicinity, I’d bash their face in. But I didn’t mind her teasing. The alluring twinkle in her eyes intrigued me. 

“Sure.” I shrugged, stepping closer to the counter as my eyes brushed along her name tag.

Noah. A memory tickled at the back of my mind. What were the chances there was another girl named Noah in this small town? It had to be Pierce Conway’s little sister … We were close before I got sent away, our lives diverging on two different paths. Me, a life of an outlaw, and Pierce … Well, last I heard, he was a priest in Chicago. 

My eyes lifted back to her face, and my heart did a doubletake as I truly took her in this time. There was no question. It had to be the same girl. Only now, she was fully grown and beautiful, but not in an obvious way like the blonde. She had a subtle kind of beauty requiring no effort. Her hair was slung back in a messy bun at the top of her head, where a pen stuck out. At some point in the morning’s chaos, she’d wiped her nose but hadn’t noticed the coffee grind on her fingers, leaving a streak across the top. The mess only made her more adorably beautiful. 

“I’ll take a short … brunette—I mean dark roast.” It was my turn to offer her a slight quirk of my lips as her eyebrow lifted. Her eyes trailed down my neck as she checked me out. 

There were two types of women when it came to my appearance. Those repulsed because they knew a man who looked like me couldn’t be any good, and those who were intrigued nonetheless and wanted to know more. 

I couldn’t figure out which one she was as she kept her expression amused but neutral. “Anything in it?” 

“Me?” I asked hopefully before smirking. “Just milk. I’m sweet enough as it is.”

She snorted at the bad joke. Admittedly, I wasn’t the best at flirting, but I could do banter. Besides, what were the chances I’d see her again after today? There was no harm in my boldness. It was merely testing the waters.

“Yeah, we’ll see what we can do.” She tapped a couple of buttons on the screen before nodding. “Name for the order?”

I could’ve given my real name, but I didn’t want to give away who I was. Would she recognize me? So, I used my road name. “Knuckles.” 

If that took her off guard, she didn’t say anything as she typed it in. “We’ll have it ready for you at the pick-up counter.” She nodded as I looked at her in confusion.

“I didn’t pay.” 

“I know. But you don’t look like the kind of guy who normally pays.” 

Was that a dig, or was she teasing me again? I wasn’t sure, but her gifting me my coffee seemed like a move.

“Thanks, Noah.” I moved to get out of the growing line, but my eyes never left her.

More of her was revealed to me as I moved down the counter, allowing me to take in all the luscious curves shaping her figure. Her ass was much better than Blondie’s. If only I could get her to turn so I could get a good look. Her apron covered her ample breasts, but I could see enough to know that they were the kind of handful I was looking for. 

Hell, she was the kind of handful I’d been waiting for. 

Five years inside was a long time without sex. I’d been out for a month, and my priority had been getting back in with the club and pretending to play by the rules with my parole officer, not getting laid. 

Maybe it was time to change my priorities. 

Standing there, I let myself imagine what kind of Ol’ Lady she’d be. She was sassy. I liked that, but could she take no shit? At least not take the kind of shit she’d get with my brothers. I pictured what she’d look like wrapped in denim and leather, and damn if I didn’t have a chub in the coffee shop. I wanted to get her behind me, in front of me, and I sure as hell wanted her under me. 

The sign on the front said they sold snacks, but I didn’t realize when I walked in what kind of snack I’d end up wanting with my coffee. Good thing they had decaf. I’d be back tonight to see if she was still on the menu. 

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