Razor's Flame

Adalynn
I thought I was getting away from the rush of city life when I moved to Silver Spoon Falls. Instead, I'm being stalked by a crazy man…and I'm not talking about the infamous drummer who says I belong to him. Razor Montgomery has made it his life's mission to protect me. But the longer I spend with the over-the-top hot rocker, the less I like the thought of his mission ever ending. There's something about this possessive caveman that sets my heart on fire. When the danger is over, can I keep him forever?

Razor
I did not expect to find my curvy soulmate being stalked through the mall by some psycho. And I'm not thrilled he got away from me in the crowd. But now that I've found Adalynn Marsh, I'm not letting her go. She thinks this is temporary and that I'll be leaving again once she's safe. She's got me dead wrong. The flame between us will never die out. As soon as I find her stalker, I'm making her mine in every single way.

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!

“Are you coming?” Bender’s exasperated voice echoes around the rental car interior as I answer his call. Crap on a cracker. It’s been the day from hell. After a three-hour turbulence-filled flight from LA to Houston, all I wanted was to grab my bags and get on the road to Silver Spoon Falls, but the travel gods decided to fuck with me. They sent my bags on a detour. To the land of lost luggage.
“I’m not even breathing hard yet,” I growl, knowing I’m already arriving an hour late. “I don’t have a goddamn thing to wear. The airline lost my luggage,” I tell my friend. “I’m going to be late.” 
When Bender called and asked me to perform a special concert to benefit the local children’s hospital, I couldn’t turn him down. I figured I could visit Silver Spoon Falls, attend the party, then spend some time with my younger sister, who also lives in the small Texas town, and maybe even take in a football game or two. The two-week vacation was supposed to be my chance to relax after weeks of working non-stop. The best-laid plans and all.
“I’m going to hit the mall and grab a couple of outfits, and then I’ll head straight to the bar.” The benefit is taking place at the bar Bender invested in recently. The Park Avenue Bar in downtown Silver Spoon Falls reminds my former bandmate of the little bar in Los Angeles where we got our start.
“Just come as you are,” Bender growls. “We’re supposed to go onstage in an hour.” HIs persistent harping isn’t helping the situation. Then he grumbles under his breath about my fucking pain-in-the-ass phobia. Okay, I’ll admit it. I’m goddamn terrified of flying. Years ago, our band, Bent, hit it big. One of our singles went to the top of the charts and the rest is history. We went from traveling in dilapidated buses to flying first class. I’d never been on a goddamn plane in my life and found out real quick that flying isn’t my thing. I spent the next few weeks puking at the thought of boarding a goddamn flying tin can. My band members knew we needed to fix the situation, and they attempted an intervention on me. The fuckers hired a “phobia specialist”—in other words, a quack. Dr. Doolyn recommended I find a traveling outfit that soothes me to help with my discomfort. I didn’t take much stock in his advice, but I didn’t really have much to lose so gave it a try. I chose this on its last leg outfit to make my dumbass bandmates happy. To my surprise, the ploy worked, and I was able to fly without drinking myself into oblivion. There was only one problem. I chose the most butt-ugly, ready-for-the-trashcan outfit in my closet. Not wanting to anger the travel gods, I’ve worn the same outfit to fly ever since.
I groan, glancing down at my well-worn gray “traveling” sweats and holey t-shirt. It isn’t holy in the religious sense. The fucker has more holes than a block of Swiss cheese. “I’ll make it quick.”
“Well, goddamn hurry. The whole band is here except you,” Bender urges me.
“I’m pulling into the mall parking lot now,” I tell him. “I’ll buy the first outfit I find and rush over,” I promise my friend before hanging up.
I rush into the large department store and head straight for the men’s department. I’m zoned in on a rack of jeans when I notice a shady motherfucker crouched down behind a table of sweatshirts.
After glancing in the same direction, I get a blow straight to my goddamn heart. And soul. Fuck my life. I don’t have time to fall in love right now, but the goddamn relationship gods don’t give a shit about my time restraints. 
I watch as the curvy little goddess twirls around in the shoe department mirror, checking out the mile-high black boots she’s trying on. My cock goes from zero to ready to fuck in a millisecond, and I realize I’m done. Caught. After making fun of Bender and my sister, Jules, for falling in love at first sight, I guess it’s only fair I get nailed by the same condition. Her silky mahogany waves with caramel tips are pulled up into a messy twist on the back of her head, leaving her long, graceful neck exposed. My lips itch to run along the soft skin, learning its texture. I rub the back of my neck, realizing the insane thoughts are coming from my blown mind.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the shady fucker moving closer. When he pulls his black hoodie tight around his face, attempting to disguise his identity, I’ve seen enough. There’s no way this asshole is getting anywhere near my goddess, so I block his path while making my way to her. Flames lick through her golden amber eyes as her gaze slowly slides down my body. A shiver runs through me while every molecule in my body goes on high alert from the sensation.
“I like those boots.” I smile down at her. “They’re almost as hot as the legs in them.” I barely resist the urge to smack my own forehead at the corny shit spewing from my mouth. 
“That’s not a bad pick-up line.” Her eyes narrow. “But I’ve heard better.”