REBEL by Harley Wylde #MCromance @changelingpress

 

(Devil’s Boneyard MC)

Motorcycle Club Romance, Age Gap, Suspense

Date Published: May 23, 2025

 

Are you ready to dive into a world where love and vengeance intertwine?

 

Rio -- I thought I had my future mapped out with the Army until two men shattered that dream, leaving me medically discharged and lost. I journeyed west, then returned east after a call from my superior, urging me to testify against those who hurt me. When I stepped into a biker clubhouse along the way, I never expected to find a place I could truly call home. Rebel makes me want to trust again. He’s charming, bold, protective, and understanding. I started my journey as a way to escape my past. I ended up finding a family -- and possibly love.

Rebel -- The moment Rio walked into the clubhouse, she had my attention. Proud, confident, and armed, she’s a storm ready to be unleashed. When her past comes looking for her, I know I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Those men have made a fatal mistake. They thought they were hunters. What they don’t know is that I’m the predator, and they aren’t walking out of my town alive.

 

Love isn’t just a feeling. It’s a battle worth fighting for.

 

Warning: Rebel is intended for readers 18+ due to adult situations, bad language, and violence. The story contains content some readers may find difficult to read. There’s a guaranteed HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger!

 

EXCERPT

I leaned against the wall near the bar, nursing my whiskey and watching the usual Friday night chaos unfold. The Devil’s Boneyard clubhouse pulsed with life around me -- half-naked women draping themselves over patched members, Prospects hustling drinks, the bass from the speakers vibrating through the floorboards. Then she walked in, pushing the door open with more force than necessary, like she needed everyone to know she wasn’t sneaking in. The metal hinges had protested with a squeal that somehow cut through the roar of Guns N’ Roses blasting from the speakers. For a split second, a few heads turned -- then most went back to their business. Not mine. I kept watching.

Strawberry-blonde hair, fierce blue eyes, and a don’t-fuck-with-me stride that parted the crowd like Moses and the Red Sea. Something electric snapped in the air, and I knew my quiet night had just gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.

She stood there in worn jeans, combat boots, and a leather jacket that had seen better days. Not trying to show skin like the club girls but somehow commanding more attention. Her eyes scanned the room with military precision, taking stock of every exit, every threat. I recognized that look. Had worn it myself once.

The clubhouse wasn’t much to look at. Worn hardwood floors bearing cigarette burns and knife marks that told stories of parties past. The walls were covered in a collection of road signs, license plates, and probably a bit too much Harley-Davidson memorabilia. The lighting was shit -- dim yellow bulbs -- but it hid the stains well enough.

She wrinkled her nose, probably at the cocktail of smells -- stale beer, motor oil, leather, sweat, and the unmistakable scent of sex. Her shoulders tensed as two hang-arounds brushed past her, but she stood her ground. Didn’t flinch. Interesting.

Charming sat at his usual table in the corner, silver-threaded hair catching the light as he nodded at something Havoc was saying. Even from across the room, you could feel his presence. His years as president had that effect. Men unconsciously straightened when he looked their way, women’s voices dropped to deferential tones. Not out of fear -- though plenty feared him -- but out of the kind of respect that can’t be demanded, only earned.

I watched her clock him immediately. Smart girl. In a room full of predators, she’d identified the alpha in seconds. Her eyes narrowed slightly, assessing, calculating. But she didn’t approach. Instead, she made her way to the bar, keeping her back to the wall, ordering something I couldn’t hear over the music.

“Who’s the new blood?” Chaos appeared beside me, beer in hand, voice unnecessarily loud as usual.

“Don’t know yet,” I said, not taking my eyes off her. “But I’m about to find out.”

“She looks like she’d cut your dick off for saying hello wrong.” He grinned, obviously considering this a challenge rather than a warning.

“Then I better say it right.” I drained my whiskey and set the glass down with a decisive clink.

Across the room, one of the club girls -- a blonde with tits that defied gravity and the IQ of a doorknob -- was trying to chat her up. Probably recruiting for the stable, or assessing if she would be a rival. The strawberry blonde’s expression had gone from cautious to thunderous. Time to intervene before something ugly happened.

I crossed the floor in long strides, noticing how several of the brothers were now watching with idle interest. New female faces always drew attention, especially ones that didn’t fit the typical groupie mold.

“Tiffany,” I said to the blonde, not bothering with pleasantries, “I think Java’s looking for you.”

She pouted, those silicone lips forming a perfect bow. “I’m just being friendly, Rebel.”

“Be friendly elsewhere.” My tone left no room for argument.

She huffed but retreated, her six-inch heels clicking against the hardwood. I turned to the newcomer, close enough now to see the freckles scattered across her face and the tension in her jaw.

“The recruitment pitch gets old fast,” I said, not bothering with introductions yet. “You looking for someone specific, or just lost?”

Her eyes -- startlingly blue up close -- locked onto mine. “Do I look like the type that gets lost?”

Southern accent. Georgia, maybe. And an attitude I could feel from three feet away.

I smirked. “No, you look like the type that walks into a biker clubhouse alone on purpose. Which means you’re either crazy or have a death wish.”

“Or I can handle myself.” Her hand shifted slightly, drawing my attention to the slight bulge under her jacket. Carrying. Interesting.

“I don’t doubt it.” I gestured to the bartender for two more drinks. “But even the best fighters might think twice about a thirty-to-one ratio.”

The corner of her mouth twitched -- not quite a smile, but close. “Thirty? I counted fourteen, and half of them are too drunk to stand straight.”

I laughed, genuinely surprised. “You military?”

Something darkened in her expression. “Was.”

The bartender slid two whiskeys toward us. I pushed one her way. “I’m Rebel.”

She eyed the drink suspiciously. “Original.”

“Says the girl who hasn’t given her name at all.”

She picked up the glass, sniffed it, then took a small sip. Testing. “Rio.”

“Like the city?”

“Like the river. It flows where it wants to.”

I raised my glass in acknowledgment and took a swallow, feeling the burn hit my throat. “So what brings you to our humble establishment, Rio who flows where she wants to?”

Her eyes flicked around the room again, lingering on a group of Prospects playing pool. “Just passing through. Heard this was where the action is in this shithole town.”

“And what kind of action are you looking for?” I kept my tone neutral, but we both knew what the question implied in a place like this.

She met my gaze head-on, challenge sparking. “Not the kind you’re thinking.”

“You’d be surprised what I’m thinking.”

A commotion near the door drew our attention. Two Prospects escorting a belligerent drunk outside, his protests lost in the music. Rio’s hand had drifted back toward her concealed weapon, her body tensing for trouble.

“Relax,” I said, stepping slightly closer. “Just the usual Friday night housekeeping.”

“I don’t relax in places I don’t know with people I don’t trust,” she said, but her hand dropped back to her side.

I studied her for a moment -- the way she held herself, alert but not skittish. Dangerous but controlled. “Smart policy.”

Across the room, Charming’s gaze connected with mine, one silver eyebrow raised in silent question. I gave a subtle nod. Nothing to worry about. Yet.

“Your President’s watching,” Rio said without turning around. The observation impressed me -- she’d maintained awareness of the room without being obvious about it.

“He notices everything,” I confirmed. “Especially strangers with hidden weapons.”

 

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today

REBEL by Harley Wylde #mc #romance @changelingpress

 

A Dixie Reapers Bad Boys Romance

Savage Raptors MC, Book 5

 

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: May 24, 2024

 

Isy -- Being the daughter of a Dixie Reaper isn’t as wonderful as it sounds. Not when your dad expects you to be this perfect little princess who never causes trouble, never dates, and just… sits on a shelf collecting dust. It sucks. When I get the chance, I run. I didn’t exactly have a destination in mind, but ending up in Bryson Corners turned out to be a good thing. The first Savage Raptor I saw, I claimed. I should feel bad for Rebel, but… he’s just so sexy, and now he’s all mine!

Rebel -- You know the saying be careful what you wish for? I should have listened. I wanted a family and fate literally threw Isy into my arms. I’d thought I was saving her. It never occurred to me she’d announce she was my girlfriend. Although, I have to admit there’s chemistry between us. It’s hard to keep my hands off her. I’d thought the kidnap attempt was a one-time thing, but I was wrong. Isy has a stalker, and I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. She’s mine, and I’ll make damn sure everyone knows it!

 

WARNING: Rebel is an insta-love story intended for adult readers. It contains violence, stalking, bad language, and adult situations.

 

 

 

EXCERPT

Rebel

The scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke clung to the air, setting the perfect tone for a typical night at the Savage Raptors MC clubhouse. I sat perched on a worn-out barstool, nursing my drink and taking in the rowdy chaos around me. The clubhouse was alive with the sounds of laughter, cursing, and the clinking of glass as my brothers let off some steam.

I could have gone to a bar in town, but the beer here was free. Sort of. The club treasurer took a percentage of the club take for any jobs and funneled it over to an account used for stocking the bar. Even though we hadn’t had a lot of runs lately, we’d picked up two local businesses. Bought them cheap when they were about to close up, so now we had a gas station and a honky-tonk. Both brought in good revenue.

I wasn’t much for country music, so I avoided the honky-tonk unless I had no other options. It was always lively. Lots of pretty girls there too. Unfortunately for me, I apparently looked more like the good-time guy than boyfriend material, because they only ever wanted one night. There were times that was perfectly fine. Most of the time I was looking for something else. Not that I’d admitted as much to anyone.

“Fuck yeah, man!” Stinger shouted from across the room, landing a winning shot on the pool table. Ever since Atilla decided to follow the Dixie Reapers’ example and ban club whores from the compound, our clubhouse had changed quite a bit. Of course, we were a smaller club, so we’d never been as rowdy anyway.

Now, instead of women, we had a pool table, dartboard, and a poker table. I had to admit, I much preferred it this way. The women who came here were nothing but trouble. Although, Truth had kept them in line before. He’d disliked most females, and certainly hadn’t respected them, until he met his wife. He’d changed a lot since Madison came into his life. They’d even adopted a son, which mellowed Truth even more.

When he’d wanted to claim Madison, I’d thought for sure Atilla would tell him no. The way he’d always treated women, he was the last one I’d expected to settle down. Now my brothers were all falling, one after another. We’d gone from all being bachelors to four of us having families.

I couldn’t help but crack a smile at my brothers’ antics as I watched them. We were a family -- a ragtag group of misfits bound together by brotherhood and loyalty. But beneath the camaraderie and wild nights, something gnawed at me, leaving me restless and itching for more. It wasn’t precisely a new feeling, but one that was steadily growing with each passing month. It started a few years ago, and clearly wasn’t going away.

“Nice shot, Stinger!” I called out, raising my own bottle in a toast before taking another swig. My gaze drifted around the room. Even though I sat by myself, I wasn’t alone. Not here.

General and Spade were locked in an intense arm-wrestling match, veins bulging and sweat pouring down their faces as they strained against each other. A few brothers had gathered around them, placing bets on who would emerge victorious.

“Come on, Spade, you got this!” someone yelled, egging him on with a slap to his back.

“Fuck that, General’s gonna wipe the floor with his ass!” another voice countered, earning a snarl from Spade. Yeah, probably not the brightest idea to piss off the club’s VP. Whoever had made the comment was most likely going to get the shit jobs for a while. Or forced to scrub toilets both here and at our businesses.

I’d been living this life for years -- the booze, the bikes, the women -- but it all felt so hollow now. Like I was missing the one thing that would make it all worthwhile. I still hooked up with women sometimes, but not recently. In fact, I hadn’t been with anyone in over three months. I always got tested afterward, just to be safe. Being with random women wasn’t the smartest thing to do. Even a condom wasn’t foolproof.

The feeling I’d had wasn’t one I’d been able to label until recently. Helping out Cowboy’s son, Jackson, in the past few weeks had certainly made an impact on me. He’d been willing to do anything for his wife and kid, and it had taken me a few days to realize I was jealous as hell. I’d had no reason to be, until I came to the conclusion the restless feeling inside me was because I wanted a family of my own. Not just a brotherhood, but a wife and kids.

“Hey, Rebel!” Stinger called out, snapping me from my thoughts. “You want in on the next game?”

“Maybe later,” I replied, tossing him a grin before taking another swig of my beer. My mind refused to let go of the thought there should be more to life than this -- something deeper, more meaningful. And I was determined to find it, whatever the cost. Not that the town of Bryson Corners was crawling with women I’d want to claim for more than a night. If it was, they’d all given me a wide berth. Maybe I wasn’t the kind of man they thought would want a lasting relationship. I needed someone who could handle living with the club, accept this way of life. Some might think it sounded amazing, but the reality would most likely send them running at some point.

My gaze drifted across the clubhouse, finally landing on Lynx and Atilla, who were seated nearby, beers in hand, deep in conversation.

“Man, I never thought I’d see the day when Grizzly would let his daughter be part of our world,” Atilla chuckled, taking a swig from his bottle. As the President of our club, he’d never backed down from a challenge, and always kept us in line. “It’s too bad he’s not here to see how much progress Meredith has made. She’s almost like a different woman these days. May Grizzly’s soul rest in peace!”

“I honestly thought he’d lose his shit and demand I send her home,” Lynx said, running a hand through his reddish hair as he smiled. “But Meredith’s been a true blessing in my life. Wouldn’t trade her for anything. We have a good life here, and I hope he’s watching over her and sees that she’s right where she belongs.”

“Damn straight,” Atilla replied, raising his bottle in a toast. “To love and brotherhood.”

The genuine smiles spread across their faces struck a chord within me. There was a depth to their happiness I had yet to find in my own experiences. It gnawed at me, a hunger no amount of drink or late-night escapades could satisfy. Family. What those two had with their women was more than I’d ever thought to have for myself. Except now, I wanted it more than anything. I was only in my thirties, and I knew a lot of brothers my age who weren’t ready to settle down. Some would say I still had my entire life ahead of me, but why spend all those years alone? Easy pussy wasn’t as satisfying as it had been a decade ago.

“Rebel, you all right?” Lynx called out, noticing my stare. I hadn’t realized how long I’d been watching them.

“Uh, yeah. Just thinking,” I said, offering a half-hearted grin. “Guess I zoned out for a minute.”

“Careful, brother. Don’t wanna strain that little brain of yours,” Atilla teased, his laughter echoing through the room as Lynx joined in.

“Fuck off, old man!” I shot back. Thankfully, he knew I was joking, otherwise the Pres would have put me on my ass.

I couldn’t help but envy their camaraderie. I’d noticed those who had settled down with a woman and kids seemed closer than ever before. It made me feel left out.

“Seriously, though,” Lynx continued, his expression sobering, “if you ever need someone to talk to, we’re here for you. Looked like you had something heavy weighing on your mind.”

“Appreciate it,” I replied, giving them a nod. But as their laughter resumed and they dove back into their conversation, my thoughts continued to churn. If I was going to find a woman around here, I would have by now. I’d lived in Bryson Corners most of my life. But unless I ran into her on a run to another city or state, it wasn’t likely I’d have the chance to search for my one and only. Not anytime soon.

My eyes flicked back to Lynx and Atilla, the sight of their contentment only deepening my desire for something more. And as the noise and chaos of the clubhouse washed over me, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t settle for anything less. I needed to find that missing piece, the connection that would make my life complete.

Lynx’s phone went off, and he stood to go outside to answer. He’d only been gone a few minutes before he returned, his face pale and his hands clenched into fists. I wondered what the call had been about, but I wasn’t going to pry. He sat down and leaned closer to Atilla. Whatever he’d said made Atilla check his phone as well. The Pres let out a curse and disappeared down the hall to his office.

As curious as I was, I knew if it was anything club related, I’d find out eventually. I only hoped it wasn’t anything too bad. With the way Lynx looked, I knew it wasn’t good news, though.

As the night wore on, I slouched on my barstool, arms braced on the bar top in front of me. I twisted my empty beer bottle, trying not to feel sorry for myself. No one had approached me so far. Probably thought I was drunk off my ass, and honestly, I was getting close. How many beers had I had already? I’d lost count.

“Another round?” Benjamin asked. The Prospect held out a bottle toward me, and I nodded. He popped the top and handed it over.

“Rebel, you ever think about settling down?” The question came from Ace, our newest member, who sat two barstools down from me. His eyes sparkled with mischief, and I wondered if he was about to try setting me up with a stripper or some stranger he’d just met. Wouldn’t be the first time. He’d done it to every single man here at one point or another. Last time he’d tried it with me, she’d been a no-show. I counted myself lucky.

Poor Knuckles had ended up with a stripper who’d been high as a kite. He’d caught her shooting up during their date and walked out. Good thing too since she’d OD’d later that night. If Knuckles had been with her at the time, the police would have given us hell. Last thing we wanted was a spotlight on us.

“Me? Nah, not my style, man,” I replied dismissively, unwilling to share my true thoughts with anyone just yet. I knew my brothers would give me shit if I admitted I wanted a wife and kids more than anything.

“Fair enough.” He chuckled. “You’re older than me but still young. Plenty of time for that I guess.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Since you brought it up, do you have your eye on someone? Or were you just trying to unload some unwanted attention?”

He laughed and shook his head. “No, to both, but I have to admit, Atilla, Lynx, Maui, and Truth all look pretty content these days. Makes me wonder if they’ve figured out the secret to happiness.”

“Hey, Rebel,” a sultry voice whispered in my ear, snapping me out of my reverie. I glanced over to see Raven, a dark-haired beauty who frequented the club, sliding her hand up my thigh. When the hell had she gotten here? “Wanna have some fun?”

She wasn’t a club whore, and never had been. Which was why Atilla allowed her to come to the clubhouse sometimes. However, she had a tendency to hang out with a few of my brothers and seemed to worm her way into this place on occasion. Like now. I didn’t know why she kept targeting me, but she wasn’t my type. Too high maintenance.

I’d be willing to bet it took her over an hour to get ready every day. I’d seen her around town often enough to know she fixed her hair and makeup like this all the time. Had to admit I wondered what she’d look like fresh out of the shower, but I doubted she’d ever let someone see her like that.

“Thanks, Raven, but not tonight,” I muttered, brushing her hand away. Her pout did little to entice me. The move was too practiced.

“Suit yourself,” she huffed, stalking off to find another willing participant for her games. Of course, there was always the chance she was angling for a property patch. If that was the case, she’d be better off trying to con Stinger into taking her.

“Damn, Rebel. You turning down Raven?” Ace whistled, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “You must be going soft. I know the two of you have hung out a few times. Not to your taste anymore?”

“Shut the fuck up,” I growled, taking a swig of my beer, welcoming the bitter taste. I’d played pool with her twice, and on a night I’d been too drunk to stand up straight, I’d fucked her in the bathroom. No one wanted to let me forget it either.

I’d always been fiercely loyal to my brothers, but as the night wore on, the truth became clear: I needed something more -- someone who saw beyond the leather and tattoos, who could fill the void inside me. And until I found her, I felt like I’d never truly be whole.

 

About the Author

Harley Wylde is an accomplished author known for her captivating MC Romances. With an unwavering commitment to sensual storytelling, Wylde immerses her readers in an exciting world of fierce men and irresistible women. Her works exude passion, danger, and gritty realism, while still managing to end on a satisfying note each time.

When not crafting her tales, Wylde spends her time brainstorming new plotlines, indulging in a hot cup of Starbucks, or delving into a good book. She has a particular affinity for supernatural horror literature and movies. Visit Wylde's website to learn more about her works and upcoming events, and don't forget to sign up for her newsletter to receive exclusive discounts and other exciting perks.

 

Author on Facebook, Instagram, & TikTok: @harleywylde

 

Publisher on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and TikTok: @changelingpress

 

Pre-Order Today