Title: Jester
Series: No Prisoners MC Romance #2
Author: Lilly Atlas
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: November 1, 2016

I really , really , REALLY wish I could met a few bikers like Jester. Oh dear me, hot flashes have nothing on this book. What a thrill ride, the senses are all overloaded. I will admit while reading this I did keep putting it down , b/c I had to take a breather. It was so intense . I can not wait to read more from the new to me author! You have go to check this one out!

âCan I start off by saying that I want my own Jester? A hot, huge, and hard biker that will take care of your every need? Who does not want that?â - Goodreads Review

Chapter 1
Bile burned its way up Emilyâs esophagus, then straight back down when she refused to give in to her bodyâs need to revolt. She was in trouble. Serious trouble. The kind of trouble that could result in her being wheeled from her house in a body bag.
âJohnny,â she whispered. Her heart broke a little as the reality set in of how low heâd sunk.
Across the living room, her brother was bound to one of their kitchen chairs. Purple bruising mottled his face, which was swollen like a balloon, displaying the evidence of what must have been an awful beating. Each time Johnny inhaled, a pain-filled wheeze hit her ears. Rivers of sweat ran down his face, and, despite his limp posture, he quivered, no doubt craving the heroin that ran his life.
Her lower lip stung and she forced her jaw to relax and end the punishment her teeth inflicted. Whenever she was nervous, she bit her bottom lip, and right now she could have bitten straight through.
Four gun-toting, tattooed bikers took up residence in her living room. The house sheâd spent her hard earned time and money turning into a home had been violated. She racked her brain, trying to think of a solution, a way out of this terrifying situation, but fear clogged her mind and nothing came to her.
âWell, Emily, whatâs it gonna be? We ainât got all fuckinâ day.â Snakeâs voice was dark and threatening. He towered over her, all six-foot-three of him. A single muscle in his jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed. But it was the way he stared at her that sent chills down her spine, like he took pleasure in her fear, got off on it even.
âIââ The words stuck in her arid throat, and she coughed. âIâll do whatever you need me to do. Just donât hurt Johnny anymore.â
âThere you go, boys. At least one of the Carver siblings ainât a complete fuckinâ moron. Sheâs pretty too.â Snake winked at her. His tongue darted out and flicked back and forth before disappearing into his mouth.
Her breath stilled. The end of his tongue was forked, each half wiggling independently.
âEmily, shut up. Donâtââ Johnnyâs slurred protest was cut short by a quick blow to his already battered face.
She winced as the short, wiry man, whose bald head resembled an egg, connected his fist with Johnnyâs face. Johnnyâs head snapped back, and blood sprayed from his mouth, across the beige carpet like a geyser, seeping into the fibers. The crimson splatter would stay there, deep inside the wool, no matter how much she scrubbed. Sheâd never forget this momentâone more thing ruined by the trauma of the day.
âStop,â she cried out. âPlease, donât hurt him anymore. I said Iâd help you.â Emilyâs voice cracked with the effort to hold back a sob.
Twenty minutes ago, Emily had bounced into the house she shared with Johnny, elated that school was out for the summer. Teaching first grade was her true passion, but by the end of May she was beyond ready for the decompression time the summer months afforded. Instead of beginning her much anticipated vacation, sheâd been cast as a character in Johnnyâs nightmare.
Two steps into her home and a man grabbed her arm. She fought against his hold, but was no match for his strength. Snake then invited her to sit on her own couch while he presented her options. Comply with his demands, or watch Johnny die. Not much of a choice for someone who was more a mother to Johnny than a sister.
A firm hand took hold of her chin with a vice grip. Snakeâs eyes bore into hers, like two windows to nothingness. Black, soulless orbs that didnât reveal a hint of what was brewing behind them. He made a sound she swore was a hiss, and she prayed she wouldnât see fangs when he smiled.
âThis is all very touching.â Snake laughed and drew away, waving his hand back and forth between Emily and her brother.
He turned his head, the motion making a snake tattoo on his neck look like it was slithering. The inked reptile rose from his shirt and climbed up his neck. Johnny had talked about a man nicknamed Snakeâbefore Emily knew Johnny was part of an outlaw biker gangâsaying the man had a tattoo of a three-foot-long rattlesnake from his neck to his groin. The serpentâs head moved as its master did, its mouth open wide, revealing two fangs that dripped with venom, ready to strike at any time. Even the way Snake moved resembled a reptile studying its prey, looking for weaknesses and an opportunity to attack.
âPerhaps, Johnny, you shouldâve given more of a shit about your sister when you were stealing from me.â He shook his head and tsked, much as Emily would when one of her first graders broke a classroom rule, except the consequences here were far worse. âIf youâd done your job, and sold the merchandise instead of snorting it, we wouldnât have ever known you had a sister. But, lucky for you, she seems willing to step in and clean up your mess.â
Story of her life. Sheâd been cleaning up after Johnny since he was a kid, years before their parents died.


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