Ryker's Reward

Ryker
When I requested a secure room at the Silver Spoon Falls Inn, I didn't realize it came with sassy commentary from the desk clerk. Nor did I think I'd enjoy the thought of spanking that attitude right out of her. But here we are anyway. Sight unseen, I'm already hooked on Francesca. And the moment I set eyes on this curvy little spitfire? I'm sunk. Now, I just have to convince her that a grump of a CIA agent like me is exactly what she needs. Forever.

Francesca
Who requests a freaking secure room in Silver Spoon Falls? Ryker Montgomery, that's who. With a single phone call, he pushes all my buttons. So I push back. But oh boy! I did not expect him to show up looking like, well, him. He's hot, bossy, gruff, and a little bit filthy too. I am in so much trouble. So why aren't I running for the hills? Oh, right. Because I think I'm in love. Someone send help.

Welcome to Silver Spoon Falls, TX. The men here are known for having it all. Except there's a shortage of eligible ladies in town to share it with. These determined men won't let that slow them down. Like the MC brotherhood who calls this small-town home, their best friends, brothers, and neighbors will turn the town on its ear looking for their curvy soulmates in this spin-off series of sweet and steamy instalove romances from Loni Ree, Nichole Rose, and jointly as Loni Nichole.

You've already fallen for the Silver Spoon MC. Now get ready to fall for the single men of Silver Spoon Falls!

“Good morning. Thank you for calling the Silver Spoon Falls Inn. This is Francesca. How may I help you?” I rush out while sliding my purse under the counter. I hope whoever’s calling doesn’t notice the phony cheer infusing my voice. After sleeping through my alarm clock, I spilled my cup of coffee down the front of my work uniform while trying to rush out the door. The domino effect of my bad luck didn’t stop there. Zippy, my ornery car, refused to start, and my roommate had already left for work. Finding an Uber in this small town is next to impossible so I hoofed it. After a brisk two-mile walk, I’m a tiny bit sweaty and a whole lot testy.
“I wouldn’t have to waste my valuable time calling if your website allowed reservations.” His condescending tone rubs me the wrong way. Lucky me! On the morning from hell, I get to deal with the jerk of the century. Woot woot.
“I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but we don’t have the ability to take online reservations at this time.” Douche canoe. “I’m sure management will keep you in mind the next time they update policies.” Frustration causes my big mouth to run away without consulting my brain. I have no say over the small-town, family-owned hotel’s old-fashioned policies, yet I get to listen to continuous complaints from annoyed customers. The vision of my badly needed paycheck flying right out the window causes me to change direction and offer sweetly, “I’d be happy to help you with your reservations.”
“I need to book a secure room and, therefore, I require a discreet, secure registration.” This jerk. My back stiffens at his condescending tone, and I barely resist the urge to tell him where to go. He acts like I’m going to advertise his information on the street.
"We can arrange a secure room for you.” Under my breath, I add it’s called a door lock, your royal pain in my ass. Hell will freeze over before I kiss this jerk’s feet. “But I will have to make the reservation by phone since that’s this hotel’s procedure.” Before I’m able to control my unruly tongue, “I’ll try not to leave your credit card number laying out where anyone can find it,” slips out. Oops. 
“Are you trying to push my buttons?” His voice turns warm and syrupy, melting something deep in my soul. “I might have to punish you for that attitude.” My mushy mind almost misses him suddenly changing course. “I need a room from the seventeenth through the twenty-ninth.”
I let the punish you comment slide and get back to my job. “Let me check to see if those dates are available.” I place him on hold, needing a few seconds of peace to fan and collect myself. I’m pretty sure tomato-red isn’t a good look for me.
Please, God, give me a miracle and let the hotel be full on those dates. I need this job, and I have no idea how I’ll keep my dislike from showing on my face if I have to deal with this jerk in person. Of course, my luck sucks. The hotel is practically booked on those dates, but the most expensive room in town is available. Fudge-muffin. Taking a deep breath, I press the blinking orange light and reconnect the call. “We have the presidential suite available on those dates.” I add a hefty dose of sweetness to my voice and quote him the outrageous room rate, hoping it will scare off the big jerk. “It encompasses the entire third floor and has the highest security in the hotel.” And costs more per night than I pay for a whole month’s rent. “If you need to be ostentatious and pompous, it’s the room for you.” I really didn’t mean to blurt that last part out. If I don’t reel in my mouth, I’m going to be living in a cardboard box behind the hotel.
“I’ll take the ostentatious and pompous room for those dates.” He doesn’t even pause. “I can’t wait to meet you, sunshine. We can discuss your phone etiquette.” 
Why does that sound like a warning? And why does his gruff voice send little sparks of electricity shooting up my spine? Maybe it’s time for me to seek therapy. What in the world is my virgin hussy side thinking? Lusting after the jerk who’s giving me a hard time is a new low. Working full-time while attending college in the evenings must be frying my circuits. That’s the only explanation for the crazy emotions zinging through me.
“Sunshine?” I can’t help myself from asking. This whole conversation is nuts. 
“Because your sunny attitude lightens up my day.” Now, I’m sure he’s screwing with me. 
Stiffening my spine, I ignore the taunt while putting on my confident professional façade. “I’ll need to get some information from you.” I rattle off my usual booking spiel while giving myself a pat on the back for somewhat pulling it off.
“I’m sure this is an inconvenience for you, too.” This jerk. “If your hotel was up with the times, I’d be able to book this online.” I roll my eyes when he beats that dead horse. “And I wouldn’t have to give my personal information over the phone.” No shit, Sherlock sits on the tip of my tongue, but I manage to swallow the snarky retort, reminding myself how much I need this job.