Layla Wolfe's Blog, page 3

WIP (Work in Progress)

A MUTUAL FRIENDThe Bent Zealots MC #7Coming December 2018
Courageous lives forever.



King:  I’m just a mild-mannered truck driver trying to do right and make it through each day. When my rig was held up by neo-Nazi thugs, they stole a shipment intended for the Bent Zealots MC.  I need to make it right by the bikers. 
During a rumble at the clubhouse, I found myself brutally dry-humping a dark, smoky biker.  Appalled by my behavior, I slunk off with the racists, squatting in an empty office building.  Talk about hitting rock bottom.
Anton:  Stinging from the most savage breakup of my life, I took to the road in my new occupation: demonologist.  The Zealots have just the job for me—figuring out what the fuck is eating Barclay Samples, a Prospect who’s been slicing and dicing small animals to drink their healing blood.
I found a new partner in my quest to exorcise Barclay’s demon—the studly trucker who manhandled me in the brawl.  Our attraction is one for the ages, made in heaven.  We can bring each other out of our shells in the accepting environment of the gay MC, but the dark forces of the white power men and the devil controlling poor Barclay have taken the upper hand.
King:  Body parts began appearing, both in town and in our kitchen.  We have a mind-blowing choice: admit defeat or return fire with every tool in our arsenal. 
Publisher's Note: This book is not for the faint of heart. It contains scenes of graphic gay sex, illegal doings, consensual bondage and discipline, cannibalism, graphic depictions of the dark arts, and violence in general.  It's a full-length novel of 65,000 words rated 18+ due to possible triggers. There are no cheating or cliffhangers, and HEAs for all.

NEWEST RELEASE FEBRUARY 2019:

Goodreads
Courageous lives forever.King:  I’m just a mild-mannered truck driver trying to do right and make it through each day. When my rig was held up by neo-Nazi thugs, they stole a shipment intended for the Bent Zealots MC.  I need to make it right by the bikers.  During a rumble at the clubhouse, I found myself brutally dry-humping a dark, smoky biker.  Appalled by my behavior, I slunk off with the racists, squatting in an empty office building.  Talk about hitting rock bottom.Anton:  Stinging from the most savage breakup of my life, I took to the road in my new occupation: demonologist.  The Zealots have just the job for me—figuring out what the fuck is eating Barclay Samples, a Prospect who’s been slicing and dicing small animals to drink their healing blood.I found a new partner in my quest to exorcise Barclay’s demon—the studly trucker who manhandled me in the brawl.  Our attraction is one for the ages, made in heaven.  We can bring each other out of our shells in the accepting environment of the gay MC, but the dark forces of the white power men and the devil controlling poor Barclay have taken the upper hand.King:  Body parts began appearing, both in town and in our kitchen.  We have a mind-blowing choice: admit defeat or return fire with every tool in our arsenal. 
If you have ghosts, then you have everything.
Publisher’s Note: This book is not for the faint of heart. It contains scenes of graphic gay sex, illegal doings, consensual bondage and discipline, cannibalism, graphic depictions of the dark arts, and violence in general. It’s a full-length novel of 65,000 words rated 18+ due to possible triggers. There are no cheating or cliffhangers, and HEAs for all.

AmazonGoodreads
Thou Shalt Be Badass.
Tanner Principato is a gruff, surly combat vet who has cobbled together a livelihood flying rescue dogs to forever homes.  When Tanner makes good on a promise to Bare Bones MC lawyer Slushy and brings a puppy to a lonely member, he is caught in the middle of a mystery.  Tanner’s innate kindness means he volunteers to track down the missing bride of the club’s fentanyl dealer, Tutti Morgan, the “Walter White of Flagstaff.”  Bare Bones territory looks even more inviting to Tanner when he’s paired up with a friend of the vanished newlywed, Unity Mitford.
A rape victim, Unity’s job as spokesmodel for cannabis companies brings her into the limelight with many men.  Men she teases.  Men she avoids.  Terrified of intimacy, Unity has developed a wide array of survival skills to keep men at bay.  When she starts working with Tanner, for the first time she questions some of these methods of isolation.  Does she really want to resist the dashing, commanding, and carved pilot?  He calls her the Queen of Heaven after a Kama Sutra position, and he leaves his mark on her heart.
Their fling—and detective partnership—comes to a grinding halt when Unity finds out what Tanner spent ten years in prison for.  She can’t throw her missing friend under the bus, but she will never—never!—waste another minute in the presence of such a vile asshole as Tanner Principato.
Like the injured and abused animals he’s worked with, Tanner knows to proceed slowly with Unity.  If terrified by sudden movement, animals can keel over, dead.  And Tanner knows that . . .
if you’re going to race with the devil, you got to be fast as hell.
Publisher’s Note:  This is Book #8 in the Bare Bones MC series.  This book is a standalone and can be read out of order, but the series is best read in order to gain the full experience.  This is not your mother’s contemporary romance.  Daring readers will encounter violence, gun play, and a backstory involving rape, one MM encounter, and a HEA.  It is not for the faint of heart.  It’s a full-length novel of 66,000 words with no cliffhanger.  Recommended 18+ due to mature content and possible triggers.




He depends on the kindness of strangers.
Fremont:  As mining geologist, I scouted out uranium on the rez.  My boss was an unstable tyrant who would tolerate no deviance from his sociopathic plan.  I found uranium, all right—making the Navajo hogans glow, their corn shine green from space, their cattle keel over, twisted and deranged.
It was a game-changer when I realized what decades of this poison was doing to the people.  And a chance meeting with the white priest who had chosen his own deviance in the desert, well, my destiny was changed forever.  I’ve been down, but I haven’t been out.  And Father Moloney is the premier guide to assist me on this coming out journey. 
Father Noel:  A cancer invaded our land.  My parishioners were dying at a high rate, their limbs gnarled, fingers fused together, useless.  But I never expected my crisis of faith to come in the form of a built, ripped geologist.
I dreamt of Fremont’s arrival, his backpack bristling with scientific instruments.  He holds the future of my congregation in his beautiful hands.  Will he go up against the powerful conglomerate, risking health and fortune to help us?  More than that, he’s stolen my soul with his vulnerable, down-to-earth honesty. 
At first I saw Fremont as a fun distraction, a sort of cuddly toy to play with, to dominate and control.  He’s much more than that—he pushes back and has me on my knees.  I was sent here to this hellhole as punishment for toying with a subordinate on another rez.  Little did they know this poisonous, gorgeous desert would be my salvation.



Now binge-read the entire acclaimed MM-MC series. Book 1: A Dangerous Reality. An Amazon Top 10 bestseller. TURK. My club sent me to track him down. When I found him, I kicked the crap out of Havelock Singer. I issued the mightiest beatdown of all time. Problem is, we’re evenly matched. We’re equals in every way, and when we finished whaling on each other, exhausted, we fell into each other’s arms. 
LOCK. When that kingpin Carmine Rojas got a load of my beautiful stallion Turk Blackburn, he’d stop at nothing to have him—and Rojas gets what he wants. It’s my fault we’re in this situation. I should’ve kicked Turk’s ass and sent him packing back to The Bare Bones. I wasn’t even close to being ready to come out, but now they’re forcing my hand. 

Book 2: A Gorgeous Mess
Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.
ANSON: I was just a mercenary back from fighting the good fight overseas. I was on a quest for my father, my roots, looking for answers. Turk Blackburn, Bent Zealots MC Prez, ordered me on a fresh operation to prove myself, my guts, my valor. Infiltrate the Navajo Rez and find out who is claiming the Zealots’ turf, using kids to cook drugs. 

ORMOND: I was flung into a life-or-death battle against the slimy Iceman, leader of a rival MC. Iceman is running all sorts of questionable ops on Bent Zealots land, and now Anson and I have to prove our street creds just to stake a claim in our own backyard. I’m a friend of cops, firemen, and soldiers alike, but suddenly I only want one man ordering me around. Anson Dineyazzie, macho half-breed hired gun, has stolen more than just my heart. This was never supposed to happen. 

Book 3: A Lone Stranger
Ride on. Ride on.
HARTE: After a world-changing run-in with the guy I thought was my father, I went on the road to find myself. I patched over to The Bent Zealots MC, an out-and-proud club on the Colorado River. A cock virgin, I raced to experience all I could, eagerly sniffing every nook and cranny, a whole new existence offered up by Grindr. But when Ormond Tangier was assaulted by a rival club, I quickly got down to brass tacks, to show my new brothers I was all business. 

BOND: This club is a fucking joke. How’s a man supposed to make a new start after the joint? First, my own brother forced me to prospect. I’m supposed to labor in a noxious sweatshop making product for their pot dispensary. And I have to sneak downtown if I want some halfway decent head, because I don’t even want my gay so-called brothers knowing about my shameful hobby. 

Book 4: A Wild Wicked Weekend
When they do right, no one remembers. When they do wrong, no one forgets.
HAVEN: At forty-five, I was a washed-up racecar driver, a Daddy Dom who had searched the world over for his power bottom, his submissive. Fuck, I was still a Prospect for the Bent Zealots MC. That’s how I came to be in the clubhouse while most of them were raising hell at a Vegas rally. Word came there was a stiff down on the Rez, and the Zealots were getting blamed for it. My mission included a clownish reject from a rival club name of Mike Drop, and a mysterious half-breed who would change my life forever. 
OGDEN: I met Haven there in the desert, standing over the disemboweled corpse of a tourist. After I made a sleazy deal that would help solve the mystery and clear the Zealots’ name, that muscle daddy gave me a tongue-lashing of a lifetime. Have more self-respect, Haven said. As the bastard half-Navajo basketballer who had frittered away a scholarship, I was a bad penny. Haven, with his powerful mastery at training and molding me, gave shape to my form.





Great outlaws lost their lives to Ford.  Great ladies lost their hearts.

Ford Illuminati, Prez of the famed Bare Bones MC, is in the crosshairs of Noodlum, a whacked thug recently joined with the Cutlasses.  When Ford’s company steals some highway workers of theirs, Noodlum lashes out with subterfuge, placing fake news stories about the club and stealing their identities to charge Cialis and penis weights.
But the clincher is when Noodlum targets Ford’s old lady, Madison.  His twisted obsession with Madison puts Ford on the alert, and Santiago Slayer on his trail.  But things haven’t been going well between Ford and Maddy lately.  His two jobs—Prez of the MC and his construction company—have got him working more than double time.  Neglected and feeling unloved, Maddy has a meltdown when a patient of hers dies.  She needs to do something different—something fulfilling.

When she works at a clinic on the Indian Rez, a heartthrob doctor catches her eye.  But he’s not the real menace.  Noodlum has come unhinged, targeting the light of Ford’s life—Madison Illuminati.  Ford is forced to play along with the whacko’s games, step by step.  It will take the combined forces of his club and his company to emerge triumphant . . . to save his one true love and reclaim their marriage.

NEWEST RELEASE 7/4/18:

AmazonGoodreads
Thou Shalt Be Badass.
Tanner Principato is a gruff, surly combat vet who has cobbled together a livelihood flying rescue dogs to forever homes.  When Tanner makes good on a promise to Bare Bones MC lawyer Slushy and brings a puppy to a lonely member, he is caught in the middle of a mystery.  Tanner’s innate kindness means he volunteers to track down the missing bride of the club’s fentanyl dealer, Tutti Morgan, the “Walter White of Flagstaff.”  Bare Bones territory looks even more inviting to Tanner when he’s paired up with a friend of the vanished newlywed, Unity Mitford.
A rape victim, Unity’s job as spokesmodel for cannabis companies brings her into the limelight with many men.  Men she teases.  Men she avoids.  Terrified of intimacy, Unity has developed a wide array of survival skills to keep men at bay.  When she starts working with Tanner, for the first time she questions some of these methods of isolation.  Does she really want to resist the dashing, commanding, and carved pilot?  He calls her the Queen of Heaven after a Kama Sutra position, and he leaves his mark on her heart.
Their fling—and detective partnership—comes to a grinding halt when Unity finds out what Tanner spent ten years in prison for.  She can’t throw her missing friend under the bus, but she will never—never!—waste another minute in the presence of such a vile asshole as Tanner Principato.
Like the injured and abused animals he’s worked with, Tanner knows to proceed slowly with Unity.  If terrified by sudden movement, animals can keel over, dead.  And Tanner knows that . . .
if you’re going to race with the devil, you got to be fast as hell.
Publisher’s Note:  This is Book #8 in the Bare Bones MC series.  This book is a standalone and can be read out of order, but the series is best read in order to gain the full experience.  This is not your mother’s contemporary romance.  Daring readers will encounter violence, gun play, and a backstory involving rape, one MM encounter, and a HEA.  It is not for the faint of heart.  It’s a full-length novel of 66,000 words with no cliffhanger.  Recommended 18+ due to mature content and possible triggers.




He depends on the kindness of strangers.
Fremont:  As mining geologist, I scouted out uranium on the rez.  My boss was an unstable tyrant who would tolerate no deviance from his sociopathic plan.  I found uranium, all right—making the Navajo hogans glow, their corn shine green from space, their cattle keel over, twisted and deranged.
It was a game-changer when I realized what decades of this poison was doing to the people.  And a chance meeting with the white priest who had chosen his own deviance in the desert, well, my destiny was changed forever.  I’ve been down, but I haven’t been out.  And Father Moloney is the premier guide to assist me on this coming out journey. 
Father Noel:  A cancer invaded our land.  My parishioners were dying at a high rate, their limbs gnarled, fingers fused together, useless.  But I never expected my crisis of faith to come in the form of a built, ripped geologist.
I dreamt of Fremont’s arrival, his backpack bristling with scientific instruments.  He holds the future of my congregation in his beautiful hands.  Will he go up against the powerful conglomerate, risking health and fortune to help us?  More than that, he’s stolen my soul with his vulnerable, down-to-earth honesty. 
At first I saw Fremont as a fun distraction, a sort of cuddly toy to play with, to dominate and control.  He’s much more than that—he pushes back and has me on my knees.  I was sent here to this hellhole as punishment for toying with a subordinate on another rez.  Little did they know this poisonous, gorgeous desert would be my salvation.



Now binge-read the entire acclaimed MM-MC series. Book 1: A Dangerous Reality. An Amazon Top 10 bestseller. TURK. My club sent me to track him down. When I found him, I kicked the crap out of Havelock Singer. I issued the mightiest beatdown of all time. Problem is, we’re evenly matched. We’re equals in every way, and when we finished whaling on each other, exhausted, we fell into each other’s arms. 
LOCK. When that kingpin Carmine Rojas got a load of my beautiful stallion Turk Blackburn, he’d stop at nothing to have him—and Rojas gets what he wants. It’s my fault we’re in this situation. I should’ve kicked Turk’s ass and sent him packing back to The Bare Bones. I wasn’t even close to being ready to come out, but now they’re forcing my hand. 

Book 2: A Gorgeous Mess
Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.
ANSON: I was just a mercenary back from fighting the good fight overseas. I was on a quest for my father, my roots, looking for answers. Turk Blackburn, Bent Zealots MC Prez, ordered me on a fresh operation to prove myself, my guts, my valor. Infiltrate the Navajo Rez and find out who is claiming the Zealots’ turf, using kids to cook drugs. 

ORMOND: I was flung into a life-or-death battle against the slimy Iceman, leader of a rival MC. Iceman is running all sorts of questionable ops on Bent Zealots land, and now Anson and I have to prove our street creds just to stake a claim in our own backyard. I’m a friend of cops, firemen, and soldiers alike, but suddenly I only want one man ordering me around. Anson Dineyazzie, macho half-breed hired gun, has stolen more than just my heart. This was never supposed to happen. 

Book 3: A Lone Stranger
Ride on. Ride on.
HARTE: After a world-changing run-in with the guy I thought was my father, I went on the road to find myself. I patched over to The Bent Zealots MC, an out-and-proud club on the Colorado River. A cock virgin, I raced to experience all I could, eagerly sniffing every nook and cranny, a whole new existence offered up by Grindr. But when Ormond Tangier was assaulted by a rival club, I quickly got down to brass tacks, to show my new brothers I was all business. 

BOND: This club is a fucking joke. How’s a man supposed to make a new start after the joint? First, my own brother forced me to prospect. I’m supposed to labor in a noxious sweatshop making product for their pot dispensary. And I have to sneak downtown if I want some halfway decent head, because I don’t even want my gay so-called brothers knowing about my shameful hobby. 

Book 4: A Wild Wicked Weekend
When they do right, no one remembers. When they do wrong, no one forgets.
HAVEN: At forty-five, I was a washed-up racecar driver, a Daddy Dom who had searched the world over for his power bottom, his submissive. Fuck, I was still a Prospect for the Bent Zealots MC. That’s how I came to be in the clubhouse while most of them were raising hell at a Vegas rally. Word came there was a stiff down on the Rez, and the Zealots were getting blamed for it. My mission included a clownish reject from a rival club name of Mike Drop, and a mysterious half-breed who would change my life forever. 
OGDEN: I met Haven there in the desert, standing over the disemboweled corpse of a tourist. After I made a sleazy deal that would help solve the mystery and clear the Zealots’ name, that muscle daddy gave me a tongue-lashing of a lifetime. Have more self-respect, Haven said. As the bastard half-Navajo basketballer who had frittered away a scholarship, I was a bad penny. Haven, with his powerful mastery at training and molding me, gave shape to my form.





Great outlaws lost their lives to Ford.  Great ladies lost their hearts.

Ford Illuminati, Prez of the famed Bare Bones MC, is in the crosshairs of Noodlum, a whacked thug recently joined with the Cutlasses.  When Ford’s company steals some highway workers of theirs, Noodlum lashes out with subterfuge, placing fake news stories about the club and stealing their identities to charge Cialis and penis weights.
But the clincher is when Noodlum targets Ford’s old lady, Madison.  His twisted obsession with Madison puts Ford on the alert, and Santiago Slayer on his trail.  But things haven’t been going well between Ford and Maddy lately.  His two jobs—Prez of the MC and his construction company—have got him working more than double time.  Neglected and feeling unloved, Maddy has a meltdown when a patient of hers dies.  She needs to do something different—something fulfilling.

When she works at a clinic on the Indian Rez, a heartthrob doctor catches her eye.  But he’s not the real menace.  Noodlum has come unhinged, targeting the light of Ford’s life—Madison Illuminati.  Ford is forced to play along with the whacko’s games, step by step.  It will take the combined forces of his club and his company to emerge triumphant . . . to save his one true love and reclaim their marriage.

NEWEST RELEASE 7/4/18

AmazonGoodreads
Thou Shalt Be Badass.
Tanner Principato is a gruff, surly combat vet who has cobbled together a livelihood flying rescue dogs to forever homes.  When Tanner makes good on a promise to Bare Bones MC lawyer Slushy and brings a puppy to a lonely member, he is caught in the middle of a mystery.  Tanner’s innate kindness means he volunteers to track down the missing bride of the club’s fentanyl dealer, Tutti Morgan, the “Walter White of Flagstaff.”  Bare Bones territory looks even more inviting to Tanner when he’s paired up with a friend of the vanished newlywed, Unity Mitford.
A rape victim, Unity’s job as spokesmodel for cannabis companies brings her into the limelight with many men.  Men she teases.  Men she avoids.  Terrified of intimacy, Unity has developed a wide array of survival skills to keep men at bay.  When she starts working with Tanner, for the first time she questions some of these methods of isolation.  Does she really want to resist the dashing, commanding, and carved pilot?  He calls her the Queen of Heaven after a Kama Sutra position, and he leaves his mark on her heart.
Their fling—and detective partnership—comes to a grinding halt when Unity finds out what Tanner spent ten years in prison for.  She can’t throw her missing friend under the bus, but she will never—never!—waste another minute in the presence of such a vile asshole as Tanner Principato.
Like the injured and abused animals he’s worked with, Tanner knows to proceed slowly with Unity.  If terrified by sudden movement, animals can keel over, dead.  And Tanner knows that . . .
if you’re going to race with the devil, you got to be fast as hell.
Publisher’s Note:  This is Book #8 in the Bare Bones MC series.  This book is a standalone and can be read out of order, but the series is best read in order to gain the full experience.  This is not your mother’s contemporary romance.  Daring readers will encounter violence, gun play, and a backstory involving rape, one MM encounter, and a HEA.  It is not for the faint of heart.  It’s a full-length novel of 66,000 words with no cliffhanger.  Recommended 18+ due to mature content and possible triggers.




He depends on the kindness of strangers.
Fremont:  As mining geologist, I scouted out uranium on the rez.  My boss was an unstable tyrant who would tolerate no deviance from his sociopathic plan.  I found uranium, all right—making the Navajo hogans glow, their corn shine green from space, their cattle keel over, twisted and deranged.
It was a game-changer when I realized what decades of this poison was doing to the people.  And a chance meeting with the white priest who had chosen his own deviance in the desert, well, my destiny was changed forever.  I’ve been down, but I haven’t been out.  And Father Moloney is the premier guide to assist me on this coming out journey. 
Father Noel:  A cancer invaded our land.  My parishioners were dying at a high rate, their limbs gnarled, fingers fused together, useless.  But I never expected my crisis of faith to come in the form of a built, ripped geologist.
I dreamt of Fremont’s arrival, his backpack bristling with scientific instruments.  He holds the future of my congregation in his beautiful hands.  Will he go up against the powerful conglomerate, risking health and fortune to help us?  More than that, he’s stolen my soul with his vulnerable, down-to-earth honesty. 
At first I saw Fremont as a fun distraction, a sort of cuddly toy to play with, to dominate and control.  He’s much more than that—he pushes back and has me on my knees.  I was sent here to this hellhole as punishment for toying with a subordinate on another rez.  Little did they know this poisonous, gorgeous desert would be my salvation.



Now binge-read the entire acclaimed MM-MC series. Book 1: A Dangerous Reality. An Amazon Top 10 bestseller. TURK. My club sent me to track him down. When I found him, I kicked the crap out of Havelock Singer. I issued the mightiest beatdown of all time. Problem is, we’re evenly matched. We’re equals in every way, and when we finished whaling on each other, exhausted, we fell into each other’s arms. 
LOCK. When that kingpin Carmine Rojas got a load of my beautiful stallion Turk Blackburn, he’d stop at nothing to have him—and Rojas gets what he wants. It’s my fault we’re in this situation. I should’ve kicked Turk’s ass and sent him packing back to The Bare Bones. I wasn’t even close to being ready to come out, but now they’re forcing my hand. 

Book 2: A Gorgeous Mess
Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.
ANSON: I was just a mercenary back from fighting the good fight overseas. I was on a quest for my father, my roots, looking for answers. Turk Blackburn, Bent Zealots MC Prez, ordered me on a fresh operation to prove myself, my guts, my valor. Infiltrate the Navajo Rez and find out who is claiming the Zealots’ turf, using kids to cook drugs. 

ORMOND: I was flung into a life-or-death battle against the slimy Iceman, leader of a rival MC. Iceman is running all sorts of questionable ops on Bent Zealots land, and now Anson and I have to prove our street creds just to stake a claim in our own backyard. I’m a friend of cops, firemen, and soldiers alike, but suddenly I only want one man ordering me around. Anson Dineyazzie, macho half-breed hired gun, has stolen more than just my heart. This was never supposed to happen. 

Book 3: A Lone Stranger
Ride on. Ride on.
HARTE: After a world-changing run-in with the guy I thought was my father, I went on the road to find myself. I patched over to The Bent Zealots MC, an out-and-proud club on the Colorado River. A cock virgin, I raced to experience all I could, eagerly sniffing every nook and cranny, a whole new existence offered up by Grindr. But when Ormond Tangier was assaulted by a rival club, I quickly got down to brass tacks, to show my new brothers I was all business. 

BOND: This club is a fucking joke. How’s a man supposed to make a new start after the joint? First, my own brother forced me to prospect. I’m supposed to labor in a noxious sweatshop making product for their pot dispensary. And I have to sneak downtown if I want some halfway decent head, because I don’t even want my gay so-called brothers knowing about my shameful hobby. 

Book 4: A Wild Wicked Weekend
When they do right, no one remembers. When they do wrong, no one forgets.
HAVEN: At forty-five, I was a washed-up racecar driver, a Daddy Dom who had searched the world over for his power bottom, his submissive. Fuck, I was still a Prospect for the Bent Zealots MC. That’s how I came to be in the clubhouse while most of them were raising hell at a Vegas rally. Word came there was a stiff down on the Rez, and the Zealots were getting blamed for it. My mission included a clownish reject from a rival club name of Mike Drop, and a mysterious half-breed who would change my life forever. 
OGDEN: I met Haven there in the desert, standing over the disemboweled corpse of a tourist. After I made a sleazy deal that would help solve the mystery and clear the Zealots’ name, that muscle daddy gave me a tongue-lashing of a lifetime. Have more self-respect, Haven said. As the bastard half-Navajo basketballer who had frittered away a scholarship, I was a bad penny. Haven, with his powerful mastery at training and molding me, gave shape to my form.





Great outlaws lost their lives to Ford.  Great ladies lost their hearts.

Ford Illuminati, Prez of the famed Bare Bones MC, is in the crosshairs of Noodlum, a whacked thug recently joined with the Cutlasses.  When Ford’s company steals some highway workers of theirs, Noodlum lashes out with subterfuge, placing fake news stories about the club and stealing their identities to charge Cialis and penis weights.
But the clincher is when Noodlum targets Ford’s old lady, Madison.  His twisted obsession with Madison puts Ford on the alert, and Santiago Slayer on his trail.  But things haven’t been going well between Ford and Maddy lately.  His two jobs—Prez of the MC and his construction company—have got him working more than double time.  Neglected and feeling unloved, Maddy has a meltdown when a patient of hers dies.  She needs to do something different—something fulfilling.

When she works at a clinic on the Indian Rez, a heartthrob doctor catches her eye.  But he’s not the real menace.  Noodlum has come unhinged, targeting the light of Ford’s life—Madison Illuminati.  Ford is forced to play along with the whacko’s games, step by step.  It will take the combined forces of his club and his company to emerge triumphant . . . to save his one true love and reclaim their marriage.

NEWEST RELEASE 2/10/18

He depends on the kindness of strangers.
He depends on the kindness of strangers.
Fremont:  As mining geologist, I scouted out uranium on the rez.  My boss was an unstable tyrant who would tolerate no deviance from his sociopathic plan.  I found uranium, all right—making the Navajo hogans glow, their corn shine green from space, their cattle keel over, twisted and deranged.
It was a game-changer when I realized what decades of this poison was doing to the people.  And a chance meeting with the white priest who had chosen his own deviance in the desert, well, my destiny was changed forever.  I’ve been down, but I haven’t been out.  And Father Moloney is the premier guide to assist me on this coming out journey. 
Father Noel:  A cancer invaded our land.  My parishioners were dying at a high rate, their limbs gnarled, fingers fused together, useless.  But I never expected my crisis of faith to come in the form of a built, ripped geologist.
I dreamt of Fremont’s arrival, his backpack bristling with scientific instruments.  He holds the future of my congregation in his beautiful hands.  Will he go up against the powerful conglomerate, risking health and fortune to help us?  More than that, he’s stolen my soul with his vulnerable, down-to-earth honesty. 
At first I saw Fremont as a fun distraction, a sort of cuddly toy to play with, to dominate and control.  He’s much more than that—he pushes back and has me on my knees.  I was sent here to this hellhole as punishment for toying with a subordinate on another rez.  Little did they know this poisonous, gorgeous desert would be my salvation.



Now binge-read the entire acclaimed MM-MC series. Book 1: A Dangerous Reality. An Amazon Top 10 bestseller. TURK. My club sent me to track him down. When I found him, I kicked the crap out of Havelock Singer. I issued the mightiest beatdown of all time. Problem is, we’re evenly matched. We’re equals in every way, and when we finished whaling on each other, exhausted, we fell into each other’s arms. 
LOCK. When that kingpin Carmine Rojas got a load of my beautiful stallion Turk Blackburn, he’d stop at nothing to have him—and Rojas gets what he wants. It’s my fault we’re in this situation. I should’ve kicked Turk’s ass and sent him packing back to The Bare Bones. I wasn’t even close to being ready to come out, but now they’re forcing my hand. 

Book 2: A Gorgeous Mess
Four wheels move the body. Two wheels move the soul.
ANSON: I was just a mercenary back from fighting the good fight overseas. I was on a quest for my father, my roots, looking for answers. Turk Blackburn, Bent Zealots MC Prez, ordered me on a fresh operation to prove myself, my guts, my valor. Infiltrate the Navajo Rez and find out who is claiming the Zealots’ turf, using kids to cook drugs. 

ORMOND: I was flung into a life-or-death battle against the slimy Iceman, leader of a rival MC. Iceman is running all sorts of questionable ops on Bent Zealots land, and now Anson and I have to prove our street creds just to stake a claim in our own backyard. I’m a friend of cops, firemen, and soldiers alike, but suddenly I only want one man ordering me around. Anson Dineyazzie, macho half-breed hired gun, has stolen more than just my heart. This was never supposed to happen. 

Book 3: A Lone Stranger
Ride on. Ride on.
HARTE: After a world-changing run-in with the guy I thought was my father, I went on the road to find myself. I patched over to The Bent Zealots MC, an out-and-proud club on the Colorado River. A cock virgin, I raced to experience all I could, eagerly sniffing every nook and cranny, a whole new existence offered up by Grindr. But when Ormond Tangier was assaulted by a rival club, I quickly got down to brass tacks, to show my new brothers I was all business. 

BOND: This club is a fucking joke. How’s a man supposed to make a new start after the joint? First, my own brother forced me to prospect. I’m supposed to labor in a noxious sweatshop making product for their pot dispensary. And I have to sneak downtown if I want some halfway decent head, because I don’t even want my gay so-called brothers knowing about my shameful hobby. 

Book 4: A Wild Wicked Weekend
When they do right, no one remembers. When they do wrong, no one forgets.
HAVEN: At forty-five, I was a washed-up racecar driver, a Daddy Dom who had searched the world over for his power bottom, his submissive. Fuck, I was still a Prospect for the Bent Zealots MC. That’s how I came to be in the clubhouse while most of them were raising hell at a Vegas rally. Word came there was a stiff down on the Rez, and the Zealots were getting blamed for it. My mission included a clownish reject from a rival club name of Mike Drop, and a mysterious half-breed who would change my life forever. 
OGDEN: I met Haven there in the desert, standing over the disemboweled corpse of a tourist. After I made a sleazy deal that would help solve the mystery and clear the Zealots’ name, that muscle daddy gave me a tongue-lashing of a lifetime. Have more self-respect, Haven said. As the bastard half-Navajo basketballer who had frittered away a scholarship, I was a bad penny. Haven, with his powerful mastery at training and molding me, gave shape to my form.





Great outlaws lost their lives to Ford.  Great ladies lost their hearts.

Ford Illuminati, Prez of the famed Bare Bones MC, is in the crosshairs of Noodlum, a whacked thug recently joined with the Cutlasses.  When Ford’s company steals some highway workers of theirs, Noodlum lashes out with subterfuge, placing fake news stories about the club and stealing their identities to charge Cialis and penis weights.
But the clincher is when Noodlum targets Ford’s old lady, Madison.  His twisted obsession with Madison puts Ford on the alert, and Santiago Slayer on his trail.  But things haven’t been going well between Ford and Maddy lately.  His two jobs—Prez of the MC and his construction company—have got him working more than double time.  Neglected and feeling unloved, Maddy has a meltdown when a patient of hers dies.  She needs to do something different—something fulfilling.

When she works at a clinic on the Indian Rez, a heartthrob doctor catches her eye.  But he’s not the real menace.  Noodlum has come unhinged, targeting the light of Ford’s life—Madison Illuminati.  Ford is forced to play along with the whacko’s games, step by step.  It will take the combined forces of his club and his company to emerge triumphant . . . to save his one true love and reclaim their marriage.

NEWEST RELEASE

Great outlaws lost their lives to Ford.  Great ladies lost their hearts.

Ford Illuminati, Prez of the famed Bare Bones MC, is in the crosshairs of Noodlum, a whacked thug recently joined with the Cutlasses.  When Ford’s company steals some highway workers of theirs, Noodlum lashes out with subterfuge, placing fake news stories about the club and stealing their identities to charge Cialis and penis weights.
But the clincher is when Noodlum targets Ford’s old lady, Madison.  His twisted obsession with Madison puts Ford on the alert, and Santiago Slayer on his trail.  But things haven’t been going well between Ford and Maddy lately.  His two jobs—Prez of the MC and his construction company—have got him working more than double time.  Neglected and feeling unloved, Maddy has a meltdown when a patient of hers dies.  She needs to do something different—something fulfilling.

When she works at a clinic on the Indian Rez, a heartthrob doctor catches her eye.  But he’s not the real menace.  Noodlum has come unhinged, targeting the light of Ford’s life—Madison Illuminati.  Ford is forced to play along with the whacko’s games, step by step.  It will take the combined forces of his club and his company to emerge triumphant . . . to save his one true love and reclaim their marriage.

CURRENT SERIES:

THE BENT ZEALOTS MC Ride along with the gay Arizona MC as they battle the Bad Guy.  It might be in the form of cartels, the government, or even other brothers.  Founder Turk Blackburn celebrates that they are bent and loving it, even if they go down fighting. VIEW THESE BOOKS
 
THE BARE BONES MC
 This series follows the adventures (mortal, death-defying, angst-filled and sometimes hilarious) of the motorcycle club in Arizona, near the present-day town of Sedona.  Ford Illuminati doesn't realize he's founded a club that will go down in infamy, whether it's on the right side of the law or the wrong. 
    VIEW THESE BOOKS



THE ASSASSINS OF YOUTH MC.  Our breakout boys go up against some pretty orthodox polygynists in southern Utah.  Saving the women who don't want to be there is only part of their job.  Taking the town back from the righteous is the rest.
VIEW THESE BOOKS



MY STANDALONE BOOKS 
Check out the sagas of one hot, conflicted priest in THE EMERALD TRIANGLE.  And to round things out, there's my favorite dirty stepbrother cowboy, DYNOMITE.
VIEW THESE BOOKS

CURRENT SERIES

 THE BARE BONES MC.  This series follows the adventures (mortal, death-defying, angst-filled and sometimes hilarious) of the motorcycle club in Arizona, near the present-day town of Sedona.  Ford Illuminati doesn't realize he's founded a club that will go down in infamy, whether it's on the right side of the law or the wrong.  
    VIEW THESE BOOKS

WELCOME

What a long, strange trip it's been.  I've been publishing novels for ten years now.  First under my real name, Karen Mercury.  Layla Wolfe was born out of an insane desire to describe the lives of some of the people I grew up with—the gritty, unwanted, unloved, resourceful, independent folks I associated with, men as well as women.

Read CHAPTER ONE of IT TAKES A THIEF--Free!

It all came boiling up at me from a dark pit of despair I hadn’t known since I was a kid.My mind was a black hole, yet a vortex swirling full of writing. I had to calm my head so I could see the words at the edges of my vision. If I shook my head, all the letters jumbled like in a word puzzle.“Get out,” some letters seemed to be saying.“Connect the leads to John Doe’s chest,” said some more letters.They got scrambled into a sort of pick-up sticks jumble. John Doe was having a massive heart attack, yet he was ripping the ECG leads from his chest every time I tried to stick them on.“I’ll do it, Maddy,” said Winston, a fellow nurse. “You get the IV.”John Doe wailed louder. “I was just having a good time! I was celebrating with my band! I wasn’t doing anything wrong!” Meanwhile he thrashed like a shark, kicking every doctor or NP who tried to help. His heart rate was an arrhythmic 120, sweat poured down his brow, and his look was about as frantic and wide-eyed as a silent screen bad guy.I couldn’t get the lidocaine IV into that thrashing arm. How many times had I dealt with this? Ventricular tachycardia starts in the lower chambers of the heart, sometimes brought on by substance abuse. And those people are the most erratic of all to deal with.“Hold his arm!” I told a subordinate nurse. But even two people holding his arm, pressing their weight to the table, couldn’t stop this ‘roided-out hulk from beating the shit out of us.“I can’t!” cried Rozelle.When Doe cracked me in the shoulder with his elbow, I threw up my hands, too. In the cardiac ER, we were supposed to make heroic efforts. But being beaten up by patients was too much for me that day.I think it all started when someone stole my mother’s ashes from my sister June’s Jeep. Who the fuck would do something like that? We did not throw a lot of green toward her funeral, seeing as how she had no friends, so it wasn’t even a nice urn. June was parked in A Joint Effort’s parking lot, the medical cannabis dispensary where she worked as budtender and irrigation expert. The parking lot was supervised by a rent-a-cop! It had cameras on it! Yet we, the mighty Old Ladies of the supreme Bare Bones MC, had not been able to find the culprit who stole our beloved—well, not so beloved, but a mother all the same—mother’s ashes!That’s what had started this whole downhill roll for me. Those fucking ashes. My mother was haunting me even from beyond the grave. Boiling tears stung my eyes, and my stomach clenched as though threatening to reject the three bites of melon I’d had for breakfast.“Maddy, Maddy!” cried Winston, waking me from my stupor.Win didn’t have to tell me Doe had finally passed out. His pulse rate dropped precipitously, and Win got the IV into his arm. The respiratory therapist began sliding the tube down his throat. Now we could get some shit done. I got the IV in like butter as Winston thudded manly chest compressions to the senseless Doe.Then it all started to seem pointless to me. That had been happening with increasing frequency lately. I was overcome by the uselessness of everything. This guy had obviously been doing meth, or something equally speedy to cause the sudden tachycardia. How much amphetamine would you have to do to cause this? I’d seen it hundreds of times, both in the ER and out. Living with a motorcycle club, you pretty much have seen it all.We’d save him, then he’d be back with his band the next week doing the exact same thing. We might even see him again here in the ER for the same reason. What goes around comes around, no?Winston handed me the defib paddles, and the darkness swirled around me again. Like antimatter, a substance swooped in one ear and out the other, taking my mind with it.I looked up at the wall, trying to see the words that would tell me what to do. Some synapses just weren’t making the correct connection in my brain. I was running on a kind of overload that was shutting down all the connections one by one. Soon even the swirling cursive words I was clinging to started to fade.“Maddy!” shouted Winston urgently. “The paddles?”“Nurse Illuminati,” came a faraway voice I recognized as Dr. Lee. “The paddles!”It was one of those instances where your body reacts before your brain does. So I can’t explain my motivation for shoving the paddles at my dear Winston, mumbling something like, “you do it,” and clawing my way through the ER personnel toward a bright rectangle that I hoped was the door.“Get out,” said the letters in my head.And so I did.Barging through several sets of swinging doors, I pieced together more helpful letters as they churned by. “Time to do something different,” yes, that’s what they were saying!The encouragement gave me the guts to keep banging through more sets of doors. But there was something welling up in my chest that didn’t feel right. Despair. Hopelessness. Why the fuck had they stolen Iris’ ashes?“What do you care?” I mumbled, striding past the cafeteria. People moved away for a nurse in her squeaky white shoes and crisp patterned scrubs striding down a hall. But this time, I think they cringed away because I was talking to myself. “Why do I care if her damned ashes were stolen?”I knew it wasn’t all about the fucking urn.My fast-paced, action-packed life was just getting to me.Turning me into a zombie. I had a few holes in my screen door. My mind was in neutral, but my body was in gear. I was more vegetable than protein. I was one Gilligan short of an island.Funny thing was, I didn’t feel that. It’s only in retrospect I see I was having some sort of breakdown. No, I just kept striding away importantly, stethoscope swinging around my neck professionally, bowling people out of my way. Imagining I was onto something hugely vital, something that would turn my life around, a religious zealot in pursuit of the truth.It was the cafeteria smell that got to me. My mouth usually watered at that smell. The company contracting there was quite good with burritos and tortas made on the spot, fresh beef stew, even matzo ball soup. Because I was always dieting, I usually only allowed myself a tiny portion, but it was delicious. Today, though, it hit me like a two by four upside the head. My sure steps stumbled. I reeled toward the flu clinic, a place I usually avoided like a pile of radium.Winston caught my arm. “Maddy, Maddy. Do you need some fresh air?”“Fresh air,” I mumbled. “That’s it. Air.”Out front, he led me to the right to avoid the comings and goings of patients. We sat on a bench where I breathed deeply, eyes closed.The words still floated against the electric backdrop of my inner eyelids. Usually, I felt faith in life lifting me up like feathers. Other times, no. This was one of those times. I was utterly lost, at the mercy of the winds, just being buffeted by events. Going with the flow. Never taking action myself. Had I enjoyed a wild ride with the Bare Bones MC? Was it coming to an end? I had thought it was my entire life.“What happened in there?” asked Winston quietly. He patted my hand. “Suddenly you didn’t want to be there. Did something scare you?”I whipped my head to face him. “Nothing scares me,” I reminded him.More hand patting. “I know, I know,” he said warmly. “But why’d you run out?”“I didn’t run.”“Walk. Why’d you walk?”Then it all gushed from me. One second I was in deep denial. The next, I was clinging to Winston’s pastel shirtfront and sobbing like a snotty kid.It was one of those horrifying sorts of breakdowns, the likes of which you haven’t felt since you were two. The kind that wrenches every organ in your torso. You sob until you can’t breathe anymore. Your lungs clench so tightly it’s like they’re two decompressed balloons.In between silent sobs, there’d be those frightening inhalations. Ripping through every layer of cells, torturing you with each tiny uh-uh-uh-uh. The shoulders shaking like an unstable washing machine.And you know it. You’re leading up to the biggest wail that was ever ripped from the heart of man.Winston knew it, too. He gathered my face closer to his warm shirt. Wrapping his arms around me, he was trying to prevent any patients from viewing this unsettling sight.I don’t remember if he succeeded. The all-encompassing wail was tearing apart my trachea. It was ripping the bronchioles from the muscle of my lungs. My diaphragm was a hard bowling ball.I shook uncontrollably, silently, until the big build-up. Who knows how far my wail could be heard? It was like a rotating siren, whaa, whaa, whaa echoing down into the parking structure, bouncing back off vehicles.And the repetition of Winston murmuring, “Ssh. Ssh. Ssh.”I didn’t know if he was trying to soothe me or shut me up. This went on for God knew how long until I could take a gulping, shuddering breath and form words.“I—can’t—do this—anymore!”Softly he said, “You mean the sick people?”Like I was some fucking kid! Which, at that point, I guess I was. “No! Well, yes! Sick people, well people, okay people, fucked-up people, just people-people!”“When’s the last time you had a vacation?”I couldn’t remember. Bare Boners didn’t take vacations. We went to rallies, which was sort of like work sometimes. Seeing the same people you normally saw at fish fries, babies’ birthdays, the Bum Steer for adult birthdays. Toys for Tots runs, swap meets, poker runs. At first, it had seemed like my family had expanded tenfold when I joined the brotherhood. Lately, it had just seemed like my world was shrinking. Even with our other chapters in Flagstaff, Prescott, Phoenix, and our brother clubs in Arizona and Nevada—well, after ten years, those people started looking as old as Jericho, as old as heartache.I pulled back from his shirtfront, leaving a trail of snot which I wiped on the back of my forearm. “It’s not that, Win! I wouldn’t need a vacation if I was happy!”We both calmed down a bit at my admission. What had I just said? Wasn’t every Bare Bone old lady happy as a pussy that sees cream? I blubbered, “I don’t mean that. I mean—”“You do too much, Maddy. That’s it. You’ve got two kids, your club, your demanding job.”I bawled, “Well how can I eliminate any of those?” Then I started crying again, only not as heart-rending this time.Winston whispered, “Is it Ford?”I knew he’d get around to that. I’d said disgruntled things about Ford in the not-so-distant past. “Maybe… Can you get my purse for me? Or have Rozelle or Tanya do it?”“You going home? That’s a good idea. You good to drive?”Winston finally went away as an old Chevy truck careened up to the curb. This wasn’t the ER door, but maybe the Navajos didn’t know that. I could tell they were Navajos because no other tribe drove those old clunkers with primer paint and fake tribal seat covers.A few lithe guys leaped from the bed in fluid movements. The injured guy was in the passenger seat, and he flowed from the door like brake fluid.As an ER nurse, I should have jumped up to help. But for some reason I was transfixed. We saw a lot of these guys, Navajo, Ute, and Hopi from Four Corners, Apache from Ft. Apache. They had their own craptastic shitholes for clinics, but it was smart of them to bring the injured here. They were always getting in drunken car wrecks, or being hit by drunken drivers. Lately, there had been problems with man-made drugs. Krokodil, meth and supermeth, MDMA, Molly, or fake stuff manufactured by a poor, broken people, dope-sick.This patient fascinated me as his fellows carried him, dripping trails of blood from what looked like a bullet wound in his shoulder, horrifying lookers-on. He was shirtless and a fine specimen of youth—a guy I’d have been attracted to back in the day.What wrenched me from my misery was his hand. Two fingers were fused together. I knew this to be caused by uranium poisoning on the Rez. I’d only seen it once before in a rather old lady, a sheepherder. One of our brothers in the Bent Zealots MC out of Lake Havasu had this condition. I thought his mother was a sheepherder.While a wave of people rolled into the hospital, one lone girl walked out. Dejectedly, Rozelle twirled her mask on her fingers. She reached inside her smock for a cig, walking my way to get out of the no-smoking zone. I waved half-heartedly.She nodded. “Guy died at ten-thirty-six,” she informed me.Another swell of despair threatened to rupture my stomach, so I held onto it. Rozelle must’ve thought I was nauseous, so she took my purse off her shoulder. “Here. Win said you wanted it. You sick? Going home?”I don’t like to ask myself questions. I’m afraid I won’t like the answers. But the answer to Rozelle’s unspoken question was yes. Yes, it bothers me that guy died. I’d become so immune to death over the years, and was that the goal? Shouldn’t I become more sensitive to it? Something was broken inside me. I needed to fix it. It was a good sign the annoying guy’s death had bothered me.I called Ford’s cell, and Wolf Glaser answered. “Hey, Maddy,” said the good-natured goof. “Ford can’t talk. We’re about to go into church.”Church. Always going into fucking church.“Put your phone in the box!” yelled someone in the background—Duji, I think.“Sorry, Maddy,” said Wolf. “Got to go.”He put the phone in the box where everyone put their electronics before entering church. Only, he forgot to hit the red END button.“That was Maddy,” I could hear Wolf explain to someone.“Oh Jeez,” said Duji—it was definitely Duji. “Not again. How often does she call you, Ford?”“Too often,” said Ford.Now I hit the red END button.Thou shalt not be overcome, was said full clearly and full mightily, for assuredness and comfort against all tribulations that may come. He said not: Thou shalt not be tempested, thou shalt not be travailed, thou shalt not be afflicted; but He said: Thou shalt not be overcome.I suddenly knew what my friend Bee had been telling me lately.It meant you should not expect to avoid pain, tragedy, or heartache. But you could reasonably expect to not be overwhelmed, overcome by it all.I had just been overcome.And I didn’t know what to do.