Our Town Book Reviews: Mama & Pops

Bones MC Legends, Book One

Motorcycle Club Romance

Date Published: 7/26/24

Publisher: Changeling Press

Somerset, Kentucky. My home. Or it was. Coming back from Nam was a friggin’ shock. No one wanted us there, but no one really wants us back here, either. In their eyes, we’re all guilty. Guess I feel the same way about them. I don’t belong anywhere. Maybe I never really did.

Except with Mama. For me, meeting Mama was like a dime novel. Fell for her almost the moment I laid eyes on her. Knew she’d be mine after our first kiss. Of course, convincing her took a little time. But it’s because of Mama I have a home and people I care about now. I may be a badass soldier, but she’s the hardest, coldest warrior I ever met. Yet she has more compassion in her than any ten people I know.

This is the story of how Bones MC was born, and why Mama and me keep to the shadows. Since we met, we’ve always had each other’s backs. No one knows all our secrets, not even those closest to us. Other people have come and gone in our lives, but it’s always been me and Mama. This is our story.

Excerpt

Sgt. Michael (Mike) Wilbanks

Louisville, Kentucky, 1968

“This right here is some happy horseshit.”

I glanced at the woman beside me who spoke in a low, wistful tone. She’d been on the same plane as I had coming from San Francisco. Though the bag she carried had an Army medical insignia, she’d dressed in street clothes. There was a hard look about her that I’d seen many times during my tours in Vietnam. We hadn’t spoken during the flight, but she was hard not to notice.

She looked to be in her mid to late twenties, carrying herself with the confidence of a warrior. My eye had been drawn her way automatically from the moment she’d stepped on the plane. I’d pegged her as the most dangerous person on the plane -- other than myself. Looking at her now, I was reevaluating that notion. The woman might be even more dangerous than I was.

“One’d think those people had jobs to go to.” I wasn’t sure if that was the “happy horseshit” she was referring to, but I chose to make it about the protesters. I’d encountered groups like this in every fucking airport I’d stopped in on my way back. To say I was spoiling for a fight was the understatement of the fucking century.

“One would think.” The woman didn’t look my way or seem interested in conversation. Instead, she was scanning the crowd. Not like she was looking for someone in particular, though. I’d seen that look many times. She was looking for a threat. VC on the trail!

I shook my head, shaking away the memory. The war wasn’t over yet, but it was for me. “You expecting trouble?” Her vigilance -- and my own demons -- had my radar pinging.

“Always.”

I had travel plans, but there was something about the woman that made me walk beside her through the Louisville terminal instead of making my way to my own gate. She was tall, maybe five-ten, with shoulder-length strawberry-blonde hair. She wore a sleeveless shirt that showed off lean, muscular arms. Everything about her screamed confidence, strength, and control. I’d met a few Army nurses who had similar looks about them, but this woman was different. She carried herself with purpose, her duffle slung over her shoulder like my own. Like she was on a mission and no one was going to stop her, even if she had to kill to get them out of her way. She didn’t speak again or acknowledge me, but she didn’t tell me to back off, either.

The terminal wasn’t particularly crowded, though there might have been a hundred people in the area. All I wanted to do was secure the bike I’d procured the second I’d gotten back to the States and fucking ride. I’d been offered a chance to join an MC called Iron Tzars, but I wasn’t sure they were really my thing. Their causes were noble and any killing they did wasn’t indiscriminate, but I’d had my fill of death in country. Even for those who needed killing.

Boom!

A shot rang out and all around us people screamed, ducking for cover.

Boom!

A nearby window shattered as the round hit, sending glass shattering to the floor and the concrete outside. I scanned the crowd for the shooter before glancing where I knew the woman had stood. Same as me, she was looking around for the shooter. I saw the exact moment she spotted him. Her features hardened and she looked angry as fuck as she squatted next to me, behind the nearby counter. “Fucker’s military.”

“Can’t say I blame him given the reception we got when we landed. Wouldn’t be my first choice of things to do, though.”

Her gaze went to mine. “You any good in a fight?”

I shrugged. “Good as any, I guess. Ain’t armed.”

She shook her head. “Me neither.”

“Got a plan?” If she didn’t, I’d come up with one, but this woman looked like she’d been expecting trouble and knew how to deal with it. If she knew the soldier in question or had known this was going to happen, she’d have a plan. I’d follow her lead until she proved she didn’t know what she was doing. One thing I’d learned in Nam was that often it wasn’t the most educated man or the highest-ranking officer who could get you out alive.

“He’s not aiming at anyone in particular. I’ll talk to him. See if I can get him to surrender peacefully. You position yourself behind him and be ready.” She gave me a pointed look. “I’ll be counting on you to take him down before he shoots me.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. “Maybe I better try to talk to him.”

She gave me an exasperated huff. “Do you honestly think I can take him down myself? I’m strong, but he’s easily twice my size.”

“You ain’t makin’ this easy, woman.”

“What’s so fuckin’ difficult about it?”

Her scowl was hard enough to trigger my well-trained instincts. I wanted to snap a salute and bark out, Yes, sir!

“Be ready. Take him down if he looks like he’s gonna shoot me or anyone else.” She tilted her head, giving me a puzzled stare. “You ain’t got battle fatigue, do you? You don’t act like you’ve had all you can take.”

“No. I’m good.” I scrubbed a hand over my face. “Just don’t like puttin’ a woman out front to use as bait. I should be the one takin’ the risks.”

“Well, I mean, if you want to risk your life when he’ll probably be able to shake me off the second I go for him, fine by me. But I trust you in that regard more than you should trust me. The odds of you gettin’ killed are way higher than me.”

I stared at her until another boom went off followed almost immediately by another window shattering. “You’re gonna give me all kinds of fuckin’ trouble, ain’t you?”

She grinned. “Trouble’s my middle name. Get in position. I’ll wait until you’re behind him.” She pointed at the barrier next to the stairs and I saw where she meant.

“Yeah, that’s where I thought I’d wait. I’ll let you know when I’m ready.”

We stared at each other hard for a moment before she spoke. “What’s your name, soldier?”

“Sergeant Michael Wilbanks. At least, that was my rank when I was discharged.”

“Honorable?” She raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes and pointed at my Army issue fatigues. “Of course. Still wearin’ the uniform, ain’t I? Re-upped after my initial tour. Not this time, though. Had enough of the killin’.”

She nodded. “Dr. Josephine Peyton, Captain, US Army. Or I was. You can call me Jo. I got a four-six-one discharge for ‘inadequate personality’ ‘cause I told a general touring our field hospital to suck my dick when he said the men in my ward were sacrificed for the greater good, then couldn’t tell me what the fucking greater good was.”

I couldn’t contain my bark of laughter. “Promise me, when this is over, you’ll let me take you out on a date.”

Josephine smirked. “Well, I guess that depends on whether you’re able to take this guy down or not. I won’t go out with a pussy.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

She shrugged. “If it gets this guy to stop shootin’ the place up, take it however you like.”

Another boom broke the moment. People screamed all around us, but the only person I saw was Jo and her pale blue eyes. Before I could think too much about it, I leaned in and wrapped my hand around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a hard kiss.

About the Author

Marteeka Karland is an international bestselling author who leads a double life as an erotic romance author by evening and a semi-domesticated housewife by day. Known for her down and dirty MC romances, Marteeka takes pleasure in spinning tales of tenacious, protective heroes and spirited, vulnerable heroines. She staunchly advocates that every character deserves a blissful ending, even, sometimes, the villains in her narratives. Her writings are speckled with intense, raw elements resulting in page-turning delight entwined with seductive escapades leading up to gratifying conclusions that elicit a sigh from her readers.

Away from the pen, Marteeka finds joy in baking and supporting her husband with their gardening activities. The late summer season is set aside for preserving the delightful harvest that springs from their combined efforts (which is mostly his efforts, but you can count it). To stay updated with Marteeka's latest adventures and forthcoming books, make sure to visit her website. Don't forget to register for her newsletter which will pepper you with a potpourri of Teeka's beloved recipes, book suggestions, autograph events, and a plethora of interesting tidbits.

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