{"id":18351,"date":"2017-05-01T10:00:52","date_gmt":"2017-05-01T15:00:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/?p=18351"},"modified":"2017-04-30T08:46:20","modified_gmt":"2017-04-30T13:46:20","slug":"wotr-chapterpackage-scarred-ruthless-rebels-mc-3-by-chelsea-camaron-and-ryan-michele","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/?p=18351","title":{"rendered":"#WOTR #ChapterPackage: Scarred (Ruthless Rebels MC #3) by Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Both authors are attending authors<\/p>\n

<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n
Title: Scarred<\/span><\/div>\n
Series: Ruthless Rebels MC #3<\/span><\/div>\n
Author: Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele<\/span><\/div>\n
Genre: MC Romance<\/span><\/div>\n
Release Date:<\/span>\u00a0May 19, 2017<\/span><\/div>\n
\n
<\/a><\/div>\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
\n
Scarred<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

(Ruthless Rebels MC Book 3)<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Co-written by:<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Chelsea Camaron<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

And<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Ryan Michele<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Copyright \u00a9 Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele 2017<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

All Rights Reserved. This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction in whole or in part, without express written permission from Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author\u2019s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

1st edition published: May 2017<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Cover Design by: M.L. Pahl of IndieVention Designs<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Editing by: Asli Fratarcangeli<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Proofreading: Silla Webb<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

This work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All sexually active characters portrayed in this book are eighteen years of age or older. Please do not buy if strong sexual situations, violence, domestic abuse, and explicit language offends you.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

This is not meant to be an exact depiction of life in a motorcycle club, but rather a work of fiction meant to entertain.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Scarred<\/b><\/div>\n

\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Whitton \u2018Skinny\u2019 Thorne \u2013 scarred skin only covers a beautiful soul.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Bitter with a capital B.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Life has been hell from the beginning when Whitton was burned as an infant, yet as much as he pushes me away I\u2019m always coming back for more.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

When I finally let go, he wants to let me in, how do I survive when we\u2019ve both been scarred?<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele have teamed up to bring you an explosive new MC romance that will have you panting for more of the Ruthless Rebels. Hold on tight, it’s going to be a wild ride full of action and suspense that these two authors are known for. Throw in two people who finally get their second chance, and things are about to get smoking hot.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

\n<\/span><\/div>\n

\n<\/span><\/div>\n

\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Chapter One<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Roe<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Fairytales, nursery rhymes, and childhood memories, none of them are really all that great!<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Holding my hand in the air with three fingers up, I sing the song about Sally the camel and her humps. Simple.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I don\u2019t have or need complications in my life. Sally has humps that come and go, she has issues, me \u2013 I\u2019m good.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

The twenty-two smiling children sing along with me with utter enthusiasm. They love this song. Most days we sing it once sometimes twice before we do the weather and calendar first thing in the morning. Our routine, the structure the kids need to thrive, and I need to feel like things are in order.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I look up when the door to my classroom opens.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s preschool. The director of the school comes in and out throughout the day so at first I don\u2019t think much of it. When my assistant teacher Ms. Jennifer stands up to take over, it\u2019s then I make my way to the door. As the lead teacher if the director comes in it\u2019s Jennifer who takes over for me and I meet with the director. Any changes necessary from the director, I will make them. Jennifer and I have worked together for three years now so our system is solid.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Beside the director, Ms. Marie, is the cutest little girl. Obviously, this visit is to bring us a new student. Her blue eyes are a bit too big for her face making those rounded little cheeks stand out too. There isn\u2019t fear in her blue depths, but there is a lot going on in that brain of hers. Finishing the song to the delight of the children on the ABC carpet, I let Jennifer continue with the next song. I focus my attention and greet our newest student, warm smile in place.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I bend down to her level looking her in the eyes. \u201cHello, I\u2019m Ms. Roe and what\u2019s your name?\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

\u201cMarlayna,\u201d the little girl in pigtails says softly.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

My heart breaks when I see the scar on her neck that her hair isn\u2019t covering. I know those marks too well. I fight back the emotion that sits just under the surface.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Burns.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

This little girl has suffered a tragedy and I hate that for her.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWould you like to join us in circle time?\u201d I offer as I fight back the past. He is not the only person to be burned in their lives and survive. So many things twist inside me and I have to push it down. The emotions that keep beating down the well-structured walls I\u2019ve built around them over the years always try to spill over, but I won\u2019t allow it. I\u2019ve had no other choice but to keep a handle on it all.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

My job is about teaching and nurturing Marlayna, today is not about him or his scars.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

She nods her head and the day commences with story time, rhyme time, nap time, and all the normal activities of my day. Marlayna adjusted very well in the class for it being her first day. She went with the flow no trepidation and without much of a reaction to anything.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

It pains me. I don\u2019t like when the kids cry, but when they come in almost numb like little Marlayna it hurts more to wonder what has hardened them to life already. Children should be free to be kids not caught up in some adult situation or punished unnecessarily.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

The afternoon passes with little Marlayna quickly falling into the routine and making friends. After each of the children are gone and I get my room cleaned up, I head out.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Arriving home, I sit on the sun room of my two-bedroom house and enjoy the Georgia afternoon. When I moved out, this was my one requirement, sun room. I love the outdoors and not feeling closed up.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Blakely, Georgia, population five thousand. Small town lifestyle near the Alabama \u2013 Georgia state lines.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

April is my favorite month of the year. The weather is sunshine, the birds sing, and the humidity isn\u2019t unbearable so boob sweat is a non-issue for the time being. No woman ever wants boob sweat. August, in the deep south is hotter than hell so I\u2019ll enjoy my outside time while I can.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

In fact, tomorrow I think I\u2019ll take my class to have a picnic and maybe do sidewalk chalk and hopscotch on the playground. They love the outside and it helps to get as much of their energy out as possible.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

My mind goes to little Marlayna. She is in the system. Foster care, with the Brown family, who are regulars in the community when it comes to taking in children. They will be good to her.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I once knew a boy who lived with the Brown\u2019s. My mind, my heart, they always go back to him. I wish it wouldn\u2019t but we have too much shared between us. His scars were similar to hers only they covered his face and half his body.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Whitton Thorne, the boy down the road with a tortured past. His mom had things so twisted in her head when it came to her twin boys. She believed Whitton was evil and Waylon was the son of Jesus or something crazy. I wasn\u2019t privy to all the details. I just know every time the state let the boys go back to her, Whitton was returned to his social worker more damaged than before. I know once they tried to send Waylon back and leave Whitton with the Brown\u2019s only for Waylon to run away to be with his twin. The two of them were close. In their situation, I would imagine one would have to be. They were also complete opposites.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

God, I loved Whitton.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

From the beginning when he was the boy I bumped into in grade school to the man who grew into there isn\u2019t a moment in time since I met Whitton Thorne that he didn\u2019t have my attention. He intrigued me. His strength captivated me. And the more time I had with Whitton Thorne in my life the harder I fell in love with him.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Even now, years have passed and I can\u2019t help but hope he\u2019s okay. Hope that somewhere he found his slice of happy.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Night comes and I slide into my t-shirt blend sheets. I don\u2019t make much with my job, but this is my splurge, soft bed sheets. After all, one can\u2019t be at their best with twenty children without a good nights sleep. I close my eyes and the fatigue of the day quickly consumes me.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWhitton Thorne, one day you\u2019re gonna be the President.\u201d I smile proudly at my friend.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cThe President of the rejects club, maybe,\u201d he replies in his normal tone.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I sigh. The boy is nothing short of amazing. He\u2019s smart, athletic, and cute. He just doesn\u2019t see it. Him and his twin brother look nothing alike. All the girls crush on Waylon. He has this mystery to him. Whitton, though, Whitton is the kind of boy you can talk to, really talk to. There is depth to him. The intrigue of him keeps me on edge to know more, see more, and have more time with him. From the time we met in elementary school at eight years old until now he has captured my attention. We\u2019re young, he\u2019s seventeen and I\u2019m sixteen, but I can\u2019t get enough of him.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you see in me, Roelyn Duprey?\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

I feel the blush cover my cheeks. \u201cAll good, I see all the good in you Whitton.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

He smirks. \u201cYou got the wrong Thorne, Roe. Maybe you think I\u2019m Waylon.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I prop my hand on my hip. \u201cI know what I see in you Whitton and I see potential!\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

\u201cYou have all the potential, Roe. The future is in front of you and there\u2019s not a single thing to hole you back.\u201d He tells me like he does all the time. \u201cYou need to have bigger and better than what Blakely, Georgia and a misfit like me can offer.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

\u201cOh, Whitton, you will have bigger and better in your life. I know it.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

He laughs me off like he does every single time I tell him I think he\u2019ll be someone someday. Only thing is, I know down to my soul he has so much more to give in this world. My heart bleeds that he doesn\u2019t see it.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

My alarms blares drawing me out of the dream. The memory of a lost time when things weren\u2019t complicated and the boy I knew and believed in may not have believed in himself, but back then he believed in me. Something I desperately needed.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Whitton Joseph Thorne, my best friend since we ran into each other playing at recess when we were only eight years old. Twenty years later, I still consider him the best friend I\u2019ve ever had \u2026 only everything between us has changed.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

No longer is he the boy I thought could give the world goodness. He\u2019s a grown man who left everything in Georgia behind ten years ago when we crossed a line.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Would I cross the line again? If I knew the outcome would be this, I\u2019m not so sure. At the time, it felt right. Hell, I thought it was going to change everything into something we could build a future on.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Except, Waylon took off and Whitton was right behind him. Where one brother went, the other was sure to follow. They had a rough start in life. Bonded as twins, bonded as brothers, and bonded by the times life kicked them while they were down those two would always stick together.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Part of me blames Waylon. The other part of me, knows the truth. Whitton ran. Yes, he woke up after the best night of our lives and couldn\u2019t handle the emotion. He found out Waylon took off and he followed. It was an escape and an all too easy excuse.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

I\u2019m not sure he realized that no matter the distance he put between us, he still had me with him. I haven\u2019t figured out a way to get that piece of me back from Whitton yet. Even after all these years, I belong to him in a way that keeps me from moving on.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Looking at little Marlayna yesterday and waking up today, it\u2019s time I let go of Whitton. Everything I thought we could one day be is a far fetched dream. Marlayna has her life ahead of her. No matter the past, she has a future.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

The same can be said for Whitton Thorne and it\u2019s a future that he decided would be without me.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

**<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Sitting down to a late dinner, I pull out my phone and scroll social media. I don\u2019t know why because it only tells me things I don\u2019t care to know. Even with a bowl of vegetable soup in front of me, my stomach growls at seeing the yummy chocolate desserts. I have a sweet tooth. My ass and hips thank me for it.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Sipping my soup, it warms me. My thumb moves on my phone screen, skipping past people I went to high school with that I never talk to. Why I\u2019m even friends with them, I\u2019ll never know. Maybe it\u2019s time to declutter my life. Most of the time people friend you just to see what you\u2019re doing and then delete you. Personally, I like it when people take out their own trash.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

My private message pops up and internally I groan seeing it\u2019s from Lance. Hi. See you\u2019re on. Want to talk to you. He types. I need to figure out how to block people from seeing when I\u2019m on and when I\u2019m not. Or maybe I just need to block him. I\u2019m thinking the latter.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Going out with Lance was up there with many mistakes I made in my life. Two dates, then I called it off. Only he didn\u2019t seem to get the point. Even telling him flat out I wasn\u2019t interested, he still messages me, texts me and calls me. Not wanting to appear rude, I\u2019ve answered all of them. But this, I just don\u2019t want to engage with him. I\u2019m tired of it. I repeat myself all day everyday with my students. My personal life, I don\u2019t want that.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

I move the little bubble that shows a picture of a golf club, Lance, and toss it down below to get rid of it off my screen.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

The phone begins to ring and I jump. First thought is, Lance is calling me. Then when I look at the screen, I see Elizabeth Calling. A smile crosses my face as I except the call.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

\u201cHey woman!\u201d I greet my best friend. We met in college, which seems like a lifetime ago, but really wasn\u2019t.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

\u201cHey back at ya! What are you doing? I want to meet for drinks.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I look to the clock noting it\u2019s only five-thirty, but I do have to work tomorrow. Drinking and then rowdy children in the morning is not a good combination.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cIs something up?\u201d I take the last bite of my soup and push it to the side.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cYes, but I don\u2019t want to tell you over the phone. Meet me in twenty at Carlyle\u2019s?\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Looking down at my clothes, the puppy dog pajama bottoms won\u2019t cut it going out. \u201cGive me thirty. I need to change.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cEpp.\u201d She makes the sound then, \u201cOkay, see you then.\u201d And disconnects. Whatever she has in store must be exciting.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

At least one of us has something good going on.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Chapter Two<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Skinny<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Flames extinguish, scars fade, but the burn can\u2019t be felt forever!<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

I strike the match and watch it burn.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

The blends of reds and yellows into oranges is mesmerizing. The flickers of colors all move as if they\u2019re dancing together. The heat gets closer and closer to my fingertips as the flame grows intently.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I feel no pain. I feel nothing.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


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 <\/p>\n

Void. Empty.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

My life is not one of colors and blends.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Poof. I blow the match out. The flame is extinguished. All that\u2019s left is black smoke. It\u2019s like my soul. Dark, unforgiving.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I sit in the dim lit room I call home. Ruthless Rebels MC \u2013 my family and the clubhouse where I calm myself at the end of every day.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

The ten feet by ten feet space has my bed, one nightstand, and a dresser. The closet is small but I keep a three tiered bookshelf in there, full of different books and photo albums. It\u2019s not much, but it\u2019s mine. Beside that door is the door to the bathroom.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Feeling the acid burn in my gut, I get up and make my way in front of the porcelain. Dropping to my knees I wretch.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I don\u2019t remember the last time I woke up and didn\u2019t throw up within an hour. It happens, every damn day. I finish, stand, wash up, and brush my teeth. There\u2019s no use in looking in the mirror, I already know the mess I\u2019ll see.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I hate fucking mirrors. Only one time in my life did I ever look in a mirror and not see the hideous beast I am \u2026 and that will never happen again. Roelyn Duprey, she made the man in the mirror not a monster but a lover. She is everything beautiful I should never touch. It\u2019s a memory I\u2019ll hold onto.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

She believed in me, believed in having something not understanding the monster I am. From the beginning the devil gripped my heart and never let go. The bitch known as my mother told me I was spawned in evil. She scarred me, marked me, and made sure the world could see me for what I am. A horrible, vile, demonized man.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Roelyn Duprey had rose colored glasses on. I let her keep them on because I needed her lifeline. The spark between us, I fed. Continuing to fuel, provide the heat, like a flame, I watched us grow, flicker, and rather than watch us fade, I snuffed it out quickly leaving nothing behind but black smoke.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

My brother needed me and Roe needed me to go away even if she didn\u2019t know it. I took off, never looked back, and haven\u2019t looked in a mirror since the night I watched me fuck her in one.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Spitting in the sink, I rinse my mouth and walk away never checking my reflection. I know what I\u2019d see. The flames of hell flicker in my eyes and burn in my soul, no need to remind myself.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Throwing on a clean pair of jeans, I don\u2019t bother with boxers, briefs, or anything to cover my junk. The raw denim rub will remind I\u2019m alive. Somehow, in the hell that is my life, I keep surviving and I\u2019m not sure why. Sliding on my shirt, I grab my cut as I drop my feet into my boots before I head out, not bothering to tie the laces till I get to my bike.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Today I have packing duty. I don\u2019t mind. I\u2019ll head to the warehouse, pack the guns to ready for shipment, and then meet up with Waylon.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

My twin, Triple Threat, as he\u2019s known in the club is everything I\u2019m not. He\u2019s good looking, level-headed, and not held back by a damn thing.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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Me, I\u2019m a scarred mess, hot-head, and haunted by the one thing I gave up so long ago.<\/div>\n

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\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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Yeah, tonight calls for the strip club. I\u2019ll pay to have a stranger grind on me till I get hard, then head back to the clubhouse and fuck a trick until I can\u2019t remember my name, my past, and the woman I left behind.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

**<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s a boy!\u201d Shamus rushes into the clubhouse announcing. \u201cDJ has a healthy, happy, eight pound, nine ounce, twenty-two inch baby boy. Kenderly is doing good.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

There are smiles and happiness that fill the space. Shamus comes over to me, slapping me on the back. \u201cYou wanna go with us to set up the house, brother.\u201d<\/div>\n

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\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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I nod. There isn\u2019t a single thing with any of my brothers I would miss because they are all I have. And for once in my life, I belong.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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After DJ\u2019s whore mother dropped her problems on Kenderly\u2019s doorstep, DJ claimed his woman and in turn the Rebels handled their shit. Kenderly and her mother had an uphill battle to climb with everything they had already lost, but DJ\u2019s mother cost them their home.<\/div>\n

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\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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It took some time, but DJ won over Kenderly\u2019s heart. They have a good life, building themselves a solid future. And now their new addition. Everything is looking good for my Rebels\u2019 brother.<\/div>\n

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\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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Not too long ago, DJ bought them a big ass house and furnished it to Kenderly\u2019s liking. Now, it\u2019s time for the Rebels to ride in and make sure our newest member is set.<\/div>\n

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\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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\u201cYour woman handle buying the goods?\u201d I ask Shamus knowing he and Andrea have decided not to have kids because of the health risks for her.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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\u201cShit, brother. She loves shopping for all this baby crap. Kitten has a soft spot for being the auntie apparently. She even bought Kenderly a video baby monitor instead of the basic one they had on the registry.\u201d<\/div>\n

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\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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I laugh. \u201cNothing wrong with that.\u201d<\/div>\n

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\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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\u201cI didn\u2019t think so but apparently DJ and Kenderly had talked. DJ didn\u2019t want to be fuckin\u2019 his woman and look to the nightstand and see their baby awake.\u201d<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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\u201cI never thought a damn thing would give DJ stage fright.\u201d We both laugh before heading out to go set up a nursery Rebels style.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cGuess a baby changes things. I\u2019m good with how my life is so no change needed here.\u201d Shamus adds with a smirk. Things are good in the club, they are good for DJ and Shamus. It\u2019s even better to feel like I\u2019m a real part of something.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Andrea is already inside when Shamus, Lurch, Triple Threat, and I pull up. She rushes outside and over to the car parked in front of the house.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

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\u201cMom brought me over, got lots to unload.\u201d She says more to Shamus than anyone with a smile that is relaxed and easy going.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Given the path Andrea went through to finally be okay again and with Shamus, I smile with her. Like me, her life is full of scars.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Only in all the turmoil, Andrea has found a way to not allow her scars to define her.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

She lived a different life. Following her dreams into investigative reporting landed her half dead in a hospital oceans away from her home. She survived her traumatic brain injury like I survived my burns. With no place to go to pick up the pieces she came home. It took a bit, but Shamus and Andrea worked their shit out. Their past isn\u2019t holding them back from a future.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Waylon and I won\u2019t have this. Our past defines our future and it\u2019s not one that looks so bright.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

For a moment, I had hope that somehow I could have a second chance to have something real in my life outside of the club. With DJ and Shamus both getting their second chances, I thought maybe there would be a sliver of time where Waylon and I could have more than what we have managed to secure. Then I dreamt I caught a look in the mirror and quickly remembered what my life has been destined to be from the moment I was born.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I am my brother\u2019s keeper. My place on Earth is to protect him even from himself. I don\u2019t have the time or emotion for anything else.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Our mother is a psycho bitch who thinks my brother is the second coming of her God or some shit. Apparently during an ultrasound, it appeared that I, baby b, was kicking or hitting, baby a \u2013 being Waylon. From that moment on I was destined to the damned.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

She even tried to have me aborted but the doctors said she was too far along and it was risk to my brother. Then we were born.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

She tried to leave me at the hospital. The nurses told her it wasn\u2019t good for infant twins to be separated this early. According to the medical records we later dug up, they felt she was suffering from post partum depression and would eventually want me. Having two babies at once via c-section meant she couldn\u2019t hold us right away so she didn\u2019t bond properly the doctor noted.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Bond.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

What a joke. The woman tried to kill me more than once.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I\u2019ve never had a mother\u2019s love. Neither has my brother.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

She may have wanted me marked, condemned, banished, and branded, but she wanted my brother to be some savior to the world.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

We just wanted to be boys. We grew into men who just wanted to live life. To this day I still can\u2019t understand her mindset. I gave up a long time ago trying. Waylon \u2013 that\u2019s another story.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

I\u2019ll go to the ends of the Earth for my brother. I\u2019ll protect him from her or God himself if I have to.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cSnap out of it, these diapers won\u2019t unload themselves!\u201d Waylon says throwing a box of the shit holders at me.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cHow many boxes do they think Kenderly needs?\u201d I ask looking at the van full.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cDaisy, XXX (Lurch\u2019s woman forgot her name), Andrea, her mom, Kenderly\u2019s mom and aunt, and every other woman around swear they will go through these and more.\u201d Shamus says walking inside with a bag of clothes.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

\u201cWonder what it was like for mom to have twins?\u201d Waylon says out loud and my chest stings in the pain I know he feels.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

Yeah, we have no future like what DJ or Shamus have found. I need to stop disillusioning myself into ever thinking I could. Walk the line, it\u2019s what I have to do.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n


\n<\/span><\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n

If I fuck up, I\u2019m not the only one who suffers, Waylon will too. I won\u2019t do that to him or me. Yes, I\u2019m better off alone.<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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<\/a>Whitton \u2018Skinny\u2019 Thorne\u2013 scarred skin only covers a beautiful soul.<\/span><\/div>\n
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Bitter with a capital B.<\/div>\n
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Life has been hell from the beginning when Whitton was burned as an infant, yet as much as he pushes me away I\u2019m always coming back for more.<\/div>\n
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When I finally let go, he wants to let me in, how do I survive when we\u2019ve both been scarred?<\/div>\n
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***Each book in the Ruthless Rebels MC is a new couple, but are best read in order. This is a biker book so please expect violence, foul language, and sexual situations. Do not buy if any of this offends you.***<\/div>\n
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USA Today Bestselling author Chelsea Camaron is a small town Carolina girl with a big imagination. She is a wife and mom chasing her dreams. She writes contemporary romance, erotic suspense, and psychological thrillers. She loves to write blue-collar men who have real problems with a fictional twist. From mechanics to bikers to oil riggers to smokejumpers, bar owners, and beyond, she loves a strong hero who works hard and plays harder<\/span>.<\/span><\/span>
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<\/span><\/a>Ryan Michele found her passion in making fictional characters come to life. She loves being in an imaginative world where anything is possible and has a knack for special twists readers don\u2019t see coming.<\/span><\/div>\n

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She writes MC, Contemporary, Erotic, Paranormal, New Adult, Inspirational, and many more romances. And whether it\u2019s bikers, wolf shifters, mafia, or beyond, Ryan spends her time making sure her heroes are strong and her heroines match them at every turn.<\/span><\/div>\n

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When she isn\u2019t writing, Ryan is a mom and wife living in rural Illinois and reading by her pond in the warm sun.<\/span>
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<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Both authors are attending authors Title: Scarred Series: Ruthless Rebels MC #3 Author: Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele Genre: MC Romance Release Date:\u00a0May 19, 2017 Scarred   (Ruthless Rebels MC Book 3)   Co-written by:   Chelsea Camaron   And   Ryan Michele   Copyright \u00a9 Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele 2017     All … Continue reading #WOTR #ChapterPackage: Scarred (Ruthless Rebels MC #3) by Chelsea Camaron and Ryan Michele<\/span> →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-18351","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paSW8H-4LZ","_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18351","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=18351"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18351\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18352,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/18351\/revisions\/18352"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=18351"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=18351"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/twinsietalk.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=18351"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}