Wrecked by Myrtle J. Patterson

I found out I had a daughter on a Tuesday, and by Wednesday my whole world had rearranged itself around her.

Six years old, stubborn as hell, and looking at me like she already knew I'd never leave. I didn't have a manual for this. I just had a promise I made to myself the moment I saw her face: whatever it takes.

Then Betty Radford walked into my life, and I stopped pretending I had this all figured out.

She runs the only bakery in Ironwood Hollow, the kind of woman who remembers how you take your coffee and asks about your day like she actually wants the answer. Warm. Sharp-tongued when she needs to be. Built in a way that makes it hard for me to think straight when she's in the room.

I didn't plan on falling for her. Didn't think I had the right to, not with the patch on my back and the trouble that comes with it.

I ride with the Outlaws, and that means Betty's stepping into a life with teeth. Old debts are surfacing. Men I thought were finished with me are circling back, and every instinct I have says to keep her far from what I carry.

But she looks at my daughter like she already loves her. She looks at me like I'm worth staying for.

And for the first time since I can remember, I want something more than the club, more than getting through another night in one piece. I want a home. A family. Her.

I just have to survive long enough to keep it.