Shear Love (Tiaras & Treats Book 8)

by M. K. Moore

  Shear Love

  Tiaras & Treats Book 8

  M.K. Moore

  Flirty Filth Publishing

  Shear Love (Tiaras & Treats Book 8) By M.K. Moore

  © M.K. Moore 2020 Flirty Filth Publishing.

  All Rights Reserved

  By the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for brief quotations used in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as an advertisement. Trademark names are used editorially with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is intended for adults only. Contains sexual content and language that may offend some. The suggested reading audience is 18 years or older. I consider this book as Erotic Adult Romance.

  Cover created by KL Fast © 2020

  Created with Vellum

  For Randee, just because…

  XOXO,

  MK

  Contents

  Blurb

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Epilogue

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  Other books by MK Moore

  About the Author

  Blurb

  Elmer "Ledger" Fulton

  As the treasurer of the Endless Knights MC, Alabama Chapter, I've got my hands in a number of illegal activities.

  We do good, but not enough to counter the bad.

  From the moment I met her, she made me want to be a better man.

  Problem is, I sold my soul long ago and there's no way out, even if I wanted to.

  Rachelle "Halo" Dietrich

  All my life my ridiculously long golden hair has defined me. But I'm done.

  When I walked into Salon Cheveux Emmêlés, I knew my life was going to change, but not this much.

  Not this radically, but I'm here for it. He makes me feel everything all at once. I'm going to chase this adventure.

  This is a safe, steamy, over the top modern fairytale retelling of Rapunzel from MK Moore. This is book 8 in the Tiaras and Treats Series.

  Chapter One

  Elmer Fulton

  I haven’t slept well in years. I’ve seen too much, done too much, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. It’s early, the sun is barely up, but I am already blowing down the street on my aftermarket customized Harley Davidson Fat Boy. I don’t give a fuck that the exhaust is loud as hell in the quaint neighborhood I live in. I feel free when I’m on my bike and I don’t care that it’s obnoxious as hell. I could live in the clubhouse of the Endless Knights where I am an officer, but that place is bleak, even for a lonely fuck like me. Somehow, I thought the burbs would be better, but I was wrong. There are nosy neighbors as far as the eye can see and I can’t stand that shit. I grew up around that and I should’ve known better. There’s a lot of things I should have known but I am more of a hands-on learner.

  I’ve been on my own for twenty-two years now. Over the years, I have had ample opportunity to go legit, but I always looked the other way. I tried to date over the years, just looking for something, someone to ease the loneliness, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. All the women I met were angling to be my old lady but they weren’t right for me. I knew right away that I wouldn’t be wasting my time on women who weren’t the one made for me. My work made it easy to not think about women. I’ve been up to my balls in illegal activities since I got here. I often think about how all this happened. It’s so very different from the early years of my life. My parents were ministers and from day one I was just an accessory to their perfectly fake life. My father and I never saw eye to eye. We all knew it, but it was an unspoken thing in our sad, oppressed household. As an only child, I was lonely. I learned long ago to accept my lot in life. At school, I was ostracized for many reasons, mainly my weird religious cult parents, so I was pretty much alone there too. When I was fourteen, a fellow outcast from school gave me an old Playboy magazine. My father found it before I could hide it. He beat my ass so badly I thought I was going to die. I didn’t even get a chance to look at the damn thing, and he was spouting off about hell and damnation. My mother was no better. She got her punches and vicious words in too. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but it was the worst. I learned early on what would happen if I broke the rules. I also knew enough to know that he had cops in his back pocket and he'd never get in trouble. Men like him never do. Not unless some outside force takes matters into their own hands. I didn't know entities like that existed but now I do. I'll admit it's one of the things I like best about being a member of the Endless Knights. After the beating from my parents, I knew I had to get out. When my parents went to bed, I grabbed the two hundred eighty six dollars and seventy seven cents I had managed to save from cutting the neighbor's grass, as well as all the cash my parents had in their wallets, another three hundred roughly, and hightailed it out of there in the middle of the night with just the clothes on my back. Originally from Arizona, I was thinking if I made it to Florida, I could find work and everything would be okay. I hitched rides from truck stops. So fucking dangerous now that I know better, but somehow, I made it as far as Alabama without incident. The truckers didn’t ask any questions and I didn’t stay with anyone for too long.

  In Alabama, I decided I needed a shower and a bed. Outside of Birmingham, I found a no tell motel and forked over the twenty-three dollars plus tax for the night and bolted myself in the room. I remember the next things vividly. I had taken a semi-hot shower, got dressed again, and laid down on the questionable bed. Sometime later, I was woken up by several loud popping sounds in the room next door. Like a dumbass, I opened the door, and I peeked out into the grimy hallway. I saw two huge guys wearing leather leaving the room. They were covered in tattoos and the back of their jackets had a skull and knives on it.

  “Gear, hold up. There’s a little boy watching us.” The bigger man stops and turns. He grins when he sees me.

  “Boy, what are you doing? Where are your parents?”

  “Don’t got any and I ain't no little boy,” I replied angrily. I would have ignored him, but his voice was so authoritative that I felt that I had to answer him but I didn’t have to be polite about it.

  “You here alone?”

  “Yes,” I say, immediately thinking that I shouldn’t have revealed just how vulnerable I was.

  “Come on boy. We can’t leave you in this hellhole. It’s about to be crawling with cops.”

  “Cops? Cops would be bad,” I say already walking toward him, taking a chance that these guys aren’t as bad as they seem. Sure, they could have been luring a witness to their death, but I didn’t get that vibe from them.

  “I assumed. I’m Gear and this is Piston. We are enforcers for the Endless Knights,” he said before continuing to walk.

  “Endless Knights?” I questioned.

  “A motorcycle club.” I had heard motorcycle clubs were bad news, but I was inexplicably drawn to these guys.


  As I walked by the open door to the neighboring room, I saw the massacre within. At least three bodies and so much blood. Everywhere. I didn’t even flinch. It should have scared me; I should have done something about what I’d seen and I certainly shouldn’t have been following the men blindly. Instead, all I could think was that they must have gotten what they deserved. I should have been scared that these men were going to hurt me, but instead I felt the exact opposite.

  I walked out of that motel for the first time feeling like I belonged. It’s fucked up, but murder and other crimes don’t bother me. Shaking my head, I turn into the parking lot of the last place on Earth I’d ever thought I'd work. My booming hair salon. Sure, it’s a money laundering front for the club, but I still had to work hard in school just to get the damn business license, so I thought I might as well make the most of it. I don’t cut a lot of hair these days, but we’ve built up a high-end clientele that love the girls I employ. Salon Cheveux Emmêlés has been rated best of the best for twelve years in a row. Even though it’s a front, I am oddly proud of those awards.

  None of this would have been possible without Gear. Because of him, the Endless Knights took me in. They fed me, clothed me, and sent me to school. They made me into the detached killer with a surprising penchant for numbers that am I today. I will forever be grateful that they found me. I'll be forever loyal to them, but I am thirty-six years old and growing listless. For years, I have watched my brothers find the other half of their soul and get married, not realizing until very recently that the love of a good woman is what has been missing in my life.

  Now, there’s something in the air. Something is coming. I can feel it.

  Chapter Two

  Rachelle Dietrich

  Fuck this, I think as my father, Steven, yells at me for the third time today. I’ve already told him I wouldn’t do it, so why is he still going on about this?

  “You’ll marry him or so help me God,” he growls as I stare at him. I know better than to actually say anything, but for some reason I can’t keep it in.

  “Like hell I will,” I shout back. “This isn’t the 1800s. You can’t tell me who to marry," I retort.

  “I think I just did," he replies curtly.

  “But,” I protest, but he cuts me off.

  “Shut up, girl,” he demands, spittle flying from his mouth. I never realized how evil he looked before this very moment. Normally, he is a loving, albeit overprotective father, but I’ve never seen this side of him. “You really aren’t getting it, Rachelle. He wants you. He won’t take no for an answer. I gave you to him. He’ll kill us all and still take you. Do the right thing.” My mother died in childbirth or so he says. It was just us for ten years. He was a great dad. Came to all my recitals, plays, everything. He met my stepmother, Gerlinde, when I was ten. She was eighteen and perky enough to snare my dad. Her being only eight years older than me didn't bother me. What bothered me about her was the fact that she pretended to like me when my dad was around but when he wasn't she tortured me. Before she came along everything was nice and normal. Then we moved to Goran and she had three baby boys right in a row. My brothers are still young and I love them, but their mother makes me sick. My dad knows I'd do anything for them.

  “I hate you," I seethe. I didn't use to, but he's changed over the last eight years and not for the better.

  “Better to hate me and be alive then be dead,” he says shrugging.

  “I need to think about this,” I tell him. I turn on my heel and leave his office without another word. Obviously, I'm gonna do it, but fuck I hate that he's done this to me, though there was probably nothing he could do about it. My father’s not a very forceful man. He wavers at the slightest provocation.

  “You have until the end of the day,” he shouts after me and I know that I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I shudder thinking of the man my father has given me too.

  Grabbing my purse off of the front table, I rip it open. Taking my cell phone out, I toss it on the table and grab the keys to the BMW. While not technically my car, I do have use of it. Though I am not supposed to leave Goran without my father, I am going to. I hate that whatever the hell this is all about has been placed firmly on my shoulders just because the old ass mayor of Goran, Sam Guest, technically my step grandfather, wants me. Wants me for what? That’s what scares me the most. Somehow, the gross fuck keeps getting elected even though everyone knows that what goes in his house isn’t exactly legal. Rumor has it, he’s into all kinds of disturbing sex things.

  I was born in Atlanta and lived there until I was ten. After that I was raised in Goran, Alabama, about an hour outside of Birmingham. The things that go on in this town are corrupt for corruption’s sake. We have no police force, no fire department, no help at all and it’s residents like it that way.

  Heading toward Birmingham, I use the car’s navigation system to find a hair salon. I am sick to death of this hair. My father used to tell me it was my pride and joy, but honestly, I hate it. It’s way too long. Too blonde. It’s a mess. I want a fresh start and everyone says that the best way to do that is to change your hair. The closest salon to my location is on Broad street, so I hang a right and drive down the street until I see it. It’s an old building with a charming French name, Cheveux Emmêlés which means tangled hair. My private tutors taught me a lot of languages, so that's something to be grateful for at least. I smile because the signage is so damn cute complete with a pair of giant scissors for the V in cheveaux. I parallel park in front of the store and get out of the car. I've never done anything like this before, so I'm a little nervous. I step inside the salon and it's nothing like I thought it would be. It's pretty, but AC/DC is loud on the speakers and there's no receptionist. I hit the little bell and you can't even hear it over the stereos volume.

  Impatiently, I walk through the salon toward the back. There are no other customers or hairdressers anywhere to be seen. I reach a door that says office and raise my hand to knock, but it swings open quickly instead and my hand touches another type of solid mass… Holy hell, the muscles I'm touching have muscles. Like a big dummy, I'm feeling around his chest like a blind person.

  Immediately, I can't help but notice the enticing scent of sandalwood and motor oil coming off of him. I look up at him as he looks down at me. His deep green eyes pierce mine. I'm hypnotized.

  "We're closed," he says gruffly as his fingers wrap around my forearms, pulling me closer to him.

  "I'm sorry. I'll go. I think I saw another salon down the street," I reply. I watch as his jaw ticks and his fingers tighten on my arms at the same time. The pain I feel is actually nice. What the hell is wrong with me? "Uh," I whisper. I should be scared that this huge leather clad dude is manhandling me, but oddly enough I'm not.

  I'm thrilled that his hands are on me and I want more. I lean into him and breathe deeply. It's like I've been taken over by a wild animal and I don't even know his name. For some reason, that doesn't matter. The pull between us is almost electric.

  Is it crazy that I want his hands, his lips, his tongue and more all over me?

  Probably, but ask me if I care.

  Chapter Three

  Ledger

  I can't help staring at the beautiful girl in my arms. Her golden hair makes it seem like she has a permanent halo surrounding her. She's beyond beautiful and so young. Too young for a hardened man like me. Too young to be corrupted by me.

  “How old are you?" I demand. For a split second, I hate myself for thinking that it doesn't matter, but of course it does. This girl has me thinking things I never have before. She also has me praying for the first time in years. Pray to the man upstairs that she’s legal. It would fucking suck to spend time behind bars instead of with her. Buried so deep inside of her that I can’t tell where she begins and I end.

  When she said she'd go to another salon, I lost it. I may not cut and style these days but I'll be damned if anyone else touches her. Touches what I've already deemed mine. No matter how old she
says she is, she’s mine. I’d wait forever just for a taste of her lips. She has an untouched, pure look. I'll be the only motherfucker to put his hands on her. I feel like her soul is speaking to mine. My fingers travel from up the delicate curve of her arm into her golden locks. Her hair is even softer than it looks.

  "Eighteen," she squeaks and I almost don't believe her, but when she leans into my touch, she seals her fate.

  Growling, I lean my head down and kiss her softly at first but then she opens her mouth and lets me in. Deepening the kiss, I tangle both of my hands in her hair and drag her slight form further into my office. Alarm bells are going off. I shouldn’t be doing this. One negative word from her and I’ll stop, but fuck I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.

  “Name. Tell me your name,” I demand coming up for air.

  “Rachelle,” she whispers.

  “Ledger,” I tell her gruffly. My damn dick is so fucking hard right now, I am surprised that I have enough blood left in my brain to form a coherent sentence.

  “Ledger?”

  “As in accounting ledger. It’s my road name.”

  “What’s your real name?” she asks with a smirk.

  “You know about road names?”

  “I read a lot of books,” she says cryptically.

  “I see,” I reply, though I really don’t but there are more pressing matters to attend to.