Slater’s Claim (Wild Blood MC #3) by Amber Morgan (@AmberMothling)
Thank you for having me today! I’m so excited to share SLATER’S CLAIM with everyone! This is book three in my Wild Blood MC series, and it really marks a change for the boys of Wild Blood as I up the stakes, expand the world, and throw a whole lot of trouble at everyone!
But the most important part of the book is, of course, the love story! Slater and Freya have a rocky road to happiness, but don’t worry – I make sure they get there! Of course, it wouldn’t be much fun if there wasn’t some drama on the route…
She won’t be tied down.
Freya can’t afford commitment. She’s deep in debt to a dangerous man and she refuses to drag anyone else into her mess. But Nathan Slater is forcing his way into her life and her problems—and Freya has to admit, she kinda likes it.
He won’t be told no.
Slater is used to being in control. Freya Markham is testing his limits. But Freya’s problems could destroy her, and Slater just can’t let that happen. He’s going to fix things, whether she likes it or not.
Be Warned: public exhibition
Grab your copy of SLATER’S CLAIM today!
This is good, she told herself, searching desperately for a silver lining. The more money Sammy took, the quicker she paid off her debt. She wished her first private customer had paid up. Bitterness stole through her as she headed back into the club. He’d been hot as hell, unexpectedly so, with that messed-up dark hair and smooth voice. Watching him get off to her dancing had been a powerful aphrodisiac that she hadn’t found with any of the other guys she’d performed for tonight.
But then the asshole had stiffed her, and because he’d said he was with security, she’d been too afraid to ask Benedict about the missing money. For all she knew, he could be one of Sammy’s guys.
She hobbled wearily across the empty dance floor. It was nearly three in the morning, and all the waitresses and other dancers were gone. A couple of cleaners mopped the floor and collected glasses. With the stage lights off and the stark house lights up, the club looked tawdry and soulless, and that was how Freya suddenly felt as well. All the eroticism and triumph had fled her, gone along with the money she’d earned.
She wished Sefina had stuck around. It would have been nice to share a ride home with her and commiserate – although she doubted Sefina was giving up most of her earnings to Sammy.
One of the bouncers, a Jamaican guy with long dreadlocks, was outside smoking when she left. She nodded at him in greeting, hugging herself. The pre-dawn air was crisp and cool, pleasant enough now when she was still so warm from dancing all night, but she knew she’d be shivering before long.
“You got a ride?” the bouncer asked her.
She shrugged. “I was going to walk.”
He eyed her outfit. She was back in jeans and a t-shirt, but still in heels, because she’d stupidly thought she was too used to walking in heels for it to bother her. A lesson learned: walking in heel was one thing, dancing in them was another entirely.
“Call a cab,” he said. “I’ll wait with you.”
She thought of the slim stack of notes in her purse, then thought of the forty-minute walk back to her apartment and decided a cab was a better plan. While she called a local firm, she looked the bouncer over more carefully, noting the leather vest he wore under his hoodie. There was a simple patch at the bottom, black with white letter. Prospect.
“You’re in an MC?” she asked when she hung up.
“Yes ma’am,” he said.
“You and the other guys that were here when I auditioned?”
He nodded, taking another drag on his cigarette that made the cherry-red tip glow hot in the darkness.
“So you know the guy, the brown-haired guy? Tall, big…arms?”
He gave her a knowing grin. “Slater? Yeah, I know Slater.”
She mulled on that. Being in a MC didn’t mean Slater had no connections to Sammy. She didn’t pretend to be an expert, but whenever she saw anything about MCs in the news, it was invariably bad. Turf wars, drugs, gun-running… The knot in her stomach twisted a little tighter.
“You want me to pass a message to him?” the bouncer asked, a teasing note in his voice.
Freya frowned, scanning the empty road for her cab. “No,” she said firmly. “Absolutely not.”
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