Title:
Roamer
Series:
Nomad, Book 3
Author:
Janine Infante Bosco
Genre: Erotic MC Suspense
Publish Date: June 13, 2017
Review Source: IndieSage PR
Deuce:
The first moment I stared into
Ally’s tortured blue eyes, my subconscious knew I’d never escape her. She
called to the darkest part of my soul and made it impossible to ignore the
strange pull I felt towards her.
Some things are just meant to be.
As long as we were both breathing,
my heart would do time with hers. Like the famous outlaw lovers, Bonnie and
Clyde, Ally and I committed the perfect crime. I claimed her heart, and she
stole mine.
I only meant to save her.
To heal her.
Now, my past threatens to ruin
her.
Wanted dead or alive, I’ve got her
by my side and together we’ll ride.
Ally:
I thought the world forgot me.
That I had died at fourteen.
But, I never knew life until I
knew him.
Rescued and healed, I found love
in the face of an outlaw.
Whether he fails or flies, I’ll
ride until I die.
I’m his Bonnie and he’s my Clyde.
A love as strong as ours will
never die.
***NOTE: Contains explicit sexual situations, violence, offensive
language, and mature topics. This book deals with sensitive subjects, such as
kidnapping and human trafficking. Please be aware of these triggers and keep
them in mind while reading. Through the sensitive subjects, the storm passes
and the sky clears….there is a happily ever after waiting on the other side.
It’s amazing the thoughts that go
through your head. The wants, the desires, the needs … the memories.
What happens when you realize the
fate that you once suffered, no longer has to be? When someone takes you up under
their wing and shelters you, protects you and heals those wounds? This person
will stop at nothing to make you who you always strived to be before you were
taken without a moments notice. Even
when the devil is lurking, do you beat the odds no matter what, or do you turn
tail and run? This is power. This is Unscarred. This is Ally and Deuce.
Roamer was my first read by
Janine and let me tell you, I will now be purchasing Drifter and Wanderer.
This book was so action packed, without a boring moment. Bring this bad ass
home to your kindle!
“Red Lipstick at Target”
There are two fucking things I despise in this world. The first is
admitting when I’m wrong and the second is shopping. I really fucking hate
shopping. So tell me, why the fuck am I pushing a red wagon into Target? Better
yet, tell me why this was my idea? Actually, I’ll give you a gold star if you
can explain why I’m not bothered by it so much either?
“I thought you said we were getting food,” Ally says as we step inside
a shopaholic’s mothership.
Yeah, so did I.
That was the fucking plan.
I should probably stop planning anything considering none of them seem
to go accordingly.
Making a note of it, I try to place where I went wrong. Sitting in my
room and staring at the wall that separated Ally and I was probably it. I
thought putting her in Cobra’s room was a no-brainer.
She had her own space, and I had mine. There was a connecting door in
case she needed anything, but other than that we could go about our business.
Yeah, not so much.
The truth was, before the fucking world flipped on its axis I was
rarely ever at the motel.
Other than sleeping and showering, I didn’t do much there. When I
wasn’t riding or fucking my way through life, I was playing the Satan’s Knights
prodigal cowboy, shooting shit and digging graves. Not one to be confined, I
was climbing the four fucking walls of that room.
After Ally’s moment outside the hospital, I listened as she relived
another traumatic experience. It’s one thing to assume what she’s been through
but hearing her say it—shit, that left me reeling. I spent half the night
wondering if she was okay or if she was reliving more agony. I could have
checked in on her during the night but I was too chicken shit. Sure, I was experienced
in post-traumatic stress but not Ally’s kind. I knew Stryker had suffered after
the war and there were certain triggers that left it impossible to obtain
peace. I feared handing that helmet to Ally had opened the door to a night full
of terror and that bothered me. I didn’t want to be the one who enticed her
demons to come out and play. I wanted to be the guy who gave her a reprieve
from all that shit, the guy who could maybe show her there was a great big
world out there waiting for her.
Like it or not, she was my responsibility now. Her well-being and her
peace of mind was my newfound commitment.
That’s why I opened that door today.
That’s the fucking reason I sat on her bed and counted her freckles.
After realizing she was okay, that she was just bored, I should have
left her alone and gone back to my room, but then we started to talk. Talking
to Ally was an experience. Hell, you couldn’t go a moment without wondering
what she was going to say next. One minute she was an ordinary woman making it
easy to forget her story. The next minute she was the wounded warrior, holding
onto a book of matches, fighting for the strength to overcome her past. I was getting
whiplash trying to keep up.
What broke me though was when she willingly gave me more of her story.
Trust isn’t something I imagine comes easy for her and knowing she trusted me
enough to confide in me did something to me. It fucked with me in more ways
than one. It made me want to rewrite her past.
Knowing that was impossible, I did the stupidest thing I could have
ever done.
I kissed her.
I fucking kissed her.
And Jesus Christ, her lips were plump and pliable—fucking perfect.
And her taste—fuck me.
Someone needs to create a word for how fucked I am.
Motherfucked isn’t cutting it anymore.
The torture didn’t stop there though.
Nope, it continued when Ally pulled out her ace.
She smiled and I folded.
Game over.
No fucking sane man could compete with that smile let alone one who
had lost all his fucking logic. It was breathtaking and intoxicating all the
same. Fucking captivating was what it was.
And like a fool, I wanted to see more of it.
“You need stuff, don’t you?” I ask, pushing the cart like a total
jackass. Grinding my teeth,
I make a turn and nearly take down the display of Goldfish crackers.
Give me two wheels and I’ll make that baby purr, give me a horse and I’ll make
her gallop, give me a red wagon with a bull’s-eye and I’m an imbecile.
Frustrated, I park the cart in the center of the aisle and turn to
Ally.
“Take this fucking thing, please,” I grind out, taking both her hands
and placing them on the handlebar. There, that’s better. Stepping away from the
offensive death trap, I pull my shit together and focus.
“Coconuts,” I say finally.
“You want to buy me coconuts?” she asks, looking at me like I’ve got a
third eye.
“Your hair smelled like coconuts the other night,” I clarify. “I don’t
have any of that fancy shit back at the motel and I’m pretty sure your brother
doesn’t either.”
“Oh,” she replies thoughtfully. “That was Reina’s.”
“Well, time to get you some of your own,” I tell her, scratching the
scruff lining my jaw.
Looking away, I take in the products on the shelf and pick up a toothbrush.
Chucking it into the wagon, I glance back at her. “You see something you need
you throw it in the wagon.”
“I’ve been shopping before, Deuce,” she says, taking the toothbrush
out of the wagon. I’m about to argue with her when she grabs a green one
instead. “I like this one better,” she adds, reaching for the toothpaste. She
grabs two different types and studies them with deep concentration.
“What’s the difference?” she asks.
“Get both,” I reply automatically. She turns to me and I shrug my
shoulders. Waiting for her to argue with me, she fools me and dumps them both
in the cart. Her eyes travel the length of the aisle and she adds mouthwash,
floss and some sort of whitening kit to the growing list of dental products.
Once she finishes scoping out the aisle, she grabs the cart and pushes it down the
next.
Following her down the aisles, I watch as she lifts things off the
shelves and decides what she likes. A half hour goes by and we’re barely out of
the toiletry section, not to mention the wagon is half-full.
Turning down the next aisle, she turns to me. A crease works the
center of her forehead as she glances at the shelves.
“I never understood the difference,” she says, waving her hand at the
condom selection.
“Do you have a favorite?”
Unlike the toothpaste, I can’t tell her to grab every variety and give
them a whirl, so I say nothing as she grabs a pack.
“Ribbed,” she mutters.
“Fuck,” I hiss.
“You don’t like ribbed?” she questions, lifting her gaze back to me.
“Ally,” I warn. Quickly, she glances around the store, over her
shoulder and back to me.
“What? Are people looking at me? I sort of feel like they are. You
know, like I’m a fish out of water?”
“They’re not looking at you,” I grind out.
“So I blend in?”
Doesn’t every girl comparing condoms fit in with the crowd at Target?
Fuck my life. Man, you can’t make this shit up.
“Totally,” I say, taking the condoms out of her hand. Chucking them
into the wagon, her eyes widen and she pokes a finger against my chest.
“You do like ribbed!”
Gripping the wagon with one hand, I grab her arm and lead her out of
the aisle.
“I thought you said you’ve been shopping before,” I mutter.
“I have, but this is the first time ever I get to pick anything out,”
she says, pushing me aside to take control of the wagon. “Rush would pick
everything out, getting me stuff he liked best. I had no idea there were this
many choices.”
Christ.
“This store has everything, huh?” she adds as we head down the make-up
aisle. I don’t say anything as she mulls over eighty-seven tubes of lipstick.
Fuck, I’d buy every single one if she decided she liked them all. Then I’d kiss
her like I really want to and smear those colors all over her pretty lips.
“What do you think about make-up?”
“I think it looks awful on me.”
Again, she smiles and I lean against the wagon taking it all in.
“I bet,” she replies as she dumps a few things into the wagon. “I
never learned how to put it on properly. I always felt like I put so much on
that at times I resembled a clown or one of those guys from that band Kiss.”
Unable to stop myself, I let out a laugh.
“What else do you need?” I ask, watching as she throws a tube of red
lipstick in the wagon.
My eyes dart to her lips and I imagine what they might look like
painted that shade. She might not know her favorite color yet but I know now
mine is undoubtedly red.
¸.•´✶#DRIFTER¸.•´✶ Nomad Series, #1
¸.•´✶#WANDERER¸.•´✶ Nomad Series, #2
Janine writes emotionally charged
novels with an emphasis on family bonds, strong willed female characters, and
alpha male men who will do anything for the women they love. She loves to
interact with fans and fellow avid romance readers like herself.
She is proud of her success as an
author and the friendships she’s made in the book community but her greatest
accomplishment to date would be her two sons Joseph and Paul.
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