HATTER
Underland MC, Book One
Motorcycle Club Romance
Date Published: July 19, 2024
Publisher: Changeling Press LLC
Jo: I’d thought Eddie was sweet and charming, until I learned the
hard way his smile disguised the devil inside him. He speaks with his fists,
and there have been many times I wanted to die. When I finally manage to
escape, I vow to do whatever it takes to keep away from Eddie. But stepping
out in front of the Underland MC and begging for their help hadn’t
been part of my plan. Now that I’m with the Underland MC, I’m
not sure if I should trust them, even if their club president does make me
feel a bit weak in the knees. Will this be the best decision I ever made, or
end up being the one thing that finally kills me?
Hatter: Becoming a civilian after nearly two decades of military service
made me feel like I’d fallen down the proverbial rabbit hole, so my
brothers and I made the Underland MC. We didn’t have any grand plan.
Then Jo came into my life. The more I find out about her ex, the more I
realize things are rotten in the town of Warren, TN. This place is my home
now, and I not only want to protect Jo, but the townspeople as well. If that
means we’re going to war, then so be it. I’ve never backed down
from a challenge, and I won’t start now.
WARNING: Hatter is a contemporary suspense romance that is intended for
readers 18+. It contains bad language, adult situations, and violence. If
you’re looking for a light, fluffy romance, this isn’t it.
Excerpt
Hatter
“Cheshire, I said no strippers.” I glared at him, my eyes
narrowing into slits as I emphasized each word.
“Come on, Hatter. It’s just a bit of fun,” Cheshire
retorted, his trademark grin never faltering. He leaned back against the
worn chair across from my desk, seemingly unfazed by the intensity of our
discussion.
“Cheshire, this event isn’t about fun. We’re raising
funds for the local kids’ hospital. A bunch of naked girls shaking
their asses doesn’t fit in that picture.” My voice was hard and
unyielding, leaving no room for compromise.
“Fine, fine.” Cheshire held up his hands in mock surrender.
“No strippers. But we need some kind of entertainment. How about a
live band?”
“Band’s fine,” I conceded, rubbing my temples as I felt
the beginnings of a headache forming. These club events always gave me
migraines, but it was my job to make sure they went smoothly. While we
mostly kept to ourselves, at least twice a year we tried to do something for
the community.
“All right then.” Cheshire stood and leaned over the desk,
bracing his hands on top. “I’ll organize the band and take care
of all the other arrangements.”
“Make sure you do.” I stared at him, ensuring my message sank
in. “We can’t afford any screwups with this one.”
“Trust me, boss.” Cheshire winked. “Everything will be
perfect.”
“See to it.” My tone brooked no argument. As the president of
the Underland MC, it was my responsibility to make sure my club stayed out
of trouble and maintained a good image in Warren. The town had been good to
us, and it was important to give back. All right, so it hadn’t been
all sunshine and roses. Not at first. When we’d built this place and
moved in, everyone had thought we were criminals and treated us accordingly.
We’d worked hard to prove we were trustworthy and wouldn’t
destroy Warren.
When we’d first decided to start this club, it had taken weeks to
narrow down where we might want to live. It just so happened, the small town
of Warren, Tennessee, had the perfect plot of land for sale. Far enough from
big cities, we still felt like we were relaxing in the country, but close
enough to anything we’d need, like a grocery store or pharmacy.
Absolem had used his inheritance to buy the land, put up a fence, and build
a clubhouse. With the exception of times we wanted to make sure we
didn’t have people popping up, we’d leave the gates open. It
wasn’t like we had anything to hide. Each of us had a room here, and a
few more to spare. In addition to the men who’d created this place
with me, we’d gathered a few other lost souls along the way, each one
floundering after being discharged from the military, just like us. Tweedle
had been the first. He’d come home so badly broken I hadn’t
known if he’d make it. More than once, I’d worried he might
decide to put a bullet in his brain. Thankfully, being around the club had
helped him heal, even if he still had a long way to go. Knave and Mock had
been next, joining almost at the same time. And Carpenter had been the
last.
“All right.” Cheshire clapped his hands together, finally
taking things seriously. “Let’s get this show on the
road.”
“Damn right.” I nodded. “And let’s remember why
we’re doing this. It’s not just a party. It’s for those
kids.”
“Understood.” Cheshire saluted me, his grin returned to his
face as he turned to leave. “I won’t let you down.”
“See that you don’t,” I warned, watching him stride out
of the room. “Or you’ll be scrubbing toilets with a toothbrush
for a month.”
“Promises, promises.” Cheshire laughed from the doorway.
“I’ll get on it, Hatter. You can count on me.”
“Good,” I called after him, “because if this event goes
south, it isn’t just the club that’ll suffer. The whole damn
town will feel it too.”
The event might be adults only, but we’d charge a fee to enter the
compound for the night. Everyone would kick back with drinks, food, and
music. By the time we closed it down, I hoped we’d have a decent chunk
of change to help those kids.
“Understood.” Cheshire nodded once more before disappearing
into the hallway. I could only hope he’d take my words to heart.
“All right.” I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Let’s get this done.”
The door slammed open, and in walked March, his eyes blazing with urgency.
He was all muscle and grit, an imposing figure who had seen more than his
fair share of shit. For that matter, we all had.
“Boss,” he said, getting straight to the point.
“We’ve got trouble.”
“Spit it out,” I demanded, my pulse racing as worry gnawed at
me. This was the last thing the club needed right now. We kept our noses
clean, paid taxes, and did our best to not draw attention to ourselves. So
what the hell could have happened?
“Rumblings from North Carolina.” March’s voice was low,
serious. “A rival MC’s been sniffing around our territory. Looks
like they’re planning something. And these assholes aren’t like
us. They’re into some nasty shit. If they get their hooks in Warren,
this place won’t be the same.”
“Fuck,” I muttered, my mind racing. “How close are
they?”
“Too damn close.” March growled. “They’ve been
spotted just outside town, and it isn’t a coincidence they picked
here.”
“All right,” I said, my brain shifting into high gear.
“We need a plan. We can’t let them jeopardize what we got going
on here, especially not now.”
“Agreed.” March nodded. “I’ve already put our boys
on alert, but we need to be ready for anything.”
“Good,” I said, my thoughts swirling like a tornado. “I
want you to gather intel, find out everything you can about their movements,
intentions, whatever. The more we know, the better prepared we’ll
be.”
“Roger that.” March saluted, his face set like stone. Some old
habits were harder to get rid of than others. “I won’t let them
get the drop on us.”
“See that you don’t,” I warned. “We’ve worked
too hard to let some wannabe tough guys tear us down.”
“Understood.” March gave a mock salute and turned to leave.
“I’ll report back as soon as I have something
solid.”
“Good,” I called after him. “And keep Cheshire in the
loop too. We need to stay united on this one.”
“Will do,” March replied, his steps echoing in the hall as he
left.
“Shit,” I muttered under my breath. “Just when things
were starting to look up.”
I knew we had our work cut out for us. Our enemies were relentless, and any
sign of weakness would be like blood in the water. The club was my family,
and there was no way in hell I’d let anyone threaten what we’d
built together.
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.
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