Mother Trucker (Crownville Truckers Book 1)
Page 21
The Mothertrucking End
Sort of. Keep reading, driver. There’s more.
AUTHOR NOTE
So, you read Mother Trucker. You took a chance on me, and I thank you. Did you enjoy it? I hope so. I enjoyed writing it. Immensely. It wasn’t easy. There were times I cried with Mae and hated with Clyde. As their story unfolded and tiny parts of me were woven into their lives, my heart ached for them. And for you, reader. Haven’t you been through some shit, too? I know you have, and you’re not alone. There is such realness to Clyde and Mae. To their suffering. Their love. That’s why bringing them together was such a breathtaking experience. Cathartic even. They heal, and we heal. Because we’re badasses, and we don’t let anyone tell us otherwise. Like so many of us, these two damaged human beings played the hands they were dealt, but they had an ace in the hole all along. Each other. I hope you have an ace in the hole, too, friend.
Ken is every cat I’ve ever loved all rolled into one. It may come as a surprise (or not) that I’m a cat lover from way back. I’ve got cats, guys. So many cats. Whenever I bring a cat (or dog) (or any critter) into a story, it’s such a joy. They play a pivotal role in my own life, and I adore giving them page time. Do you have pets? Are they your ride or die like mine are?
If you’ve read my previous work, you know I’m not known for vanilla romance. My books are like marshmallows dipped in tar. Sweet in the center but black and sticky on the outside. For Mother Trucker, I stepped away from my sinful roots. Like, a few inches away. Let’s not get crazy. But I felt we needed to take a minute and catch our breath after Possum Hollow. Wash away the sweat and scrape off the grit. Remind ourselves that we’re not depraved heathens reveling in our filthiest desires. (At least, not all the time.) That being said, it seems there will always be dark tones in everything I write, and Mother Trucker is no exception. Childhood trauma, grief, regret, pain. They’re always there in some form. What does that say about me? I don’t know, but I think it makes for good storytelling. I hope this departure from darkest of dark was a palate cleanser for you, though, and that you’re looking forward to returning to Possum Hollow now that Mother Trucker is a wrap. Wayne, the third book in the Possum Hollow series, is next on the horizon. And, damn, son, is it going to rock your world. Don’t worry, Mother Trucker fans, I’ll be hitching a ride back to Crownville, West Virginia soon. Join my Facebook group, Moxie’s Darlings, and sign up for my newsletter to keep tabs on both these series.
If you’re reading this and you’re not familiar with my Possum Hollow series but are curious, it’s not for the faint of heart. (Or those who need trigger warnings.) It’s dirty, friend. Real dirty. And it’ll leave you feeling dirty, too. These rednecks love hard, and they go through hell gettin’ their happily ever maybes. And I don’t shy away from the brutal details. But, oh, how they fight. Are you tough enough? Can you handle a love story so raw it’ll make you question your morals? You can’t see me, but I’m eying you skeptically. Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Read Merle, book one, free.
Until next time, keep on trucking.
Love,
Moxie
P.S. If you have the time, it would mean the world to me if you left a review of Mother Trucker on Amazon. Really. Truly.
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ALSO BY MOXIE DARLING
The Crownville Truckers Series
Mother Trucker
The Possum Hollow Series
Merle
Jethro
The Flower Child Series
Clover
Willow
Andromeda
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Moxie Darling is an erotic romance author living in the wilds of Ohio with her husband, two rambunctious beagles, and menagerie of spoiled cats. She has a penchant for writing (and reading) naughty stories with a taboo twist. When she’s not making word magic, she can be found crocheting stuff, stalking Goodreads and Pinterest, or struggling to resist the siren call of her chocolate stash.
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Welcome to Possum Hollow, where life is hard, short, and soaked in sin.
Merle Davis is well and truly fucked. Forced to marry the meanest, most spiteful woman in the holler in order to keep his wayward sister from taking a permanent swim in Hogtie Pond, he resigns himself to a lifetime of suffering.
His new bride, Amaleen Crouse, has the biggest moonshine empire around and, as he comes to learn the hard way, the prettiest daughter. But he can’t afford to be distracted by red hair and a spitfire mouth. Not when lives depend on the blasphemous vows he took.
But when the powers that be force him to taste that forbidden fruit, his resolve goes straight to hell in a Mason jar, and he soon has to choose between the woman he loves and the woman who owns him. And either choice will likely end in blood and misery.
Because there ain’t no law in the holler. There’s only living and dying.
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