Bianca hated those Merrick boys. She wasn’t alone.

They were nothing but trouble, but no one dared stand up to them. Look at one Merrick cross-eyed and before you knew it you were at war with the whole clan. She kept to herself and bit her tongue when they wrecked her diner on a regular schedule. It was a small price to pay to stay on Merricks’ good side.

Braden Foster never was much good at keeping his opinions to himself.

The leader of a nomadic band of bikers, Braden was accustomed to facing trouble head on, usually with fists. Occasionally with a crowbar. This policy didn’t win him many friends, but it rarely mattered. He never stuck in one place long enough to weather the consequences.

That was before he came to the aid of a pretty lady restaurateur.

He figured he’d at least earned a cup of coffee for his trouble, but when he stepped between the Merrick boys and Bianca’s diner, he lit a spark that threatened to burn the whole town to ashes. It was up to him to put it out.

Bianca knew a gathering storm when she saw one.

But which was more frightening: the storm between Braden and the Merricks, or the one brewing in her heart for a man arguably more dangerous than the Merricks themselves?

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