Saturday, April 11, 2015

Author Spotlight AJ Downey

1.What are your genres?

I write Motorcycle Club Romance and I've dabbled in Paranormal Romance.

2. What have you written?

Most notably? I am known for The Sacred Hearts MC series.

3.When did you begin your writing career?

I've been story writing since Jr. High, however, I started writing with the goal of becoming published in mind in December of 2013. I finished a couple of books and first self published in February of 2014 and I've been doing it ever since.

4. Are you a full-time or part-time writer?

I'm a full time writer, I also hold a full time day job and a part time weekend job. I don't know any other way to be at this point.

5.What's your writing process?

Idea strikes like bolt from the blue, I sit down and start writing it. I get to a point I run out of story and think up more and just keep right on going until it's done.

6. What is your inspiration for writing?

Oh geez, anything and everything really. I get ideas from anything and everything. A color, a bit of song, or a profession that strikes me as being really cool.

7. What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

What are you waiting for? Sit down and write it. Write on it every single damned day until it's done.

8. What are you currently working on?

I am currently working on two separate joint projects. One is a Paranormal Romantic Erotica with author Ryan Kelli that centers on a world much like ours, only with Werewolves (who hate being called werewolves, they prefer 'Wolf-kind’) and a group of humans known as The Hunters, it is an absolute blast to write and we are nearing the finish line on the first draft.

The other joint project I am doing is an Urban Fantasy piece that may or may not wind up romantic centering around a young human woman who suddenly finds herself imbued with the grace of an angel. Now both heaven and hell are out for her because of the information the grace she's been imbued with possesses. The only thing standing between her and the joint forces of heaven and hell is one lone angel, who happens to be the angel of free will.

9.How can we stay in touch with you? ie, facebook, twitter, blog, etch

Lots of ways!

10.Please share 5 fun facts about yourself that most people don't know?

  1. I was struck by lighting in 1993 on my school playground.
  2. My favorite drink at the bar is an Angry Balls (Angry Orchard hard cider with Fireball cinnamon whiskey in it)
  3. I love a good game of Cards Against Humanity
  4. I will only drive a Subaru if I can help it. Love it really is a Subaru.
  5. My favorite spot to just get away for a weekend is the Victorian town Port Townsend here in WA

Thanks so much for having me! 💗



Shattered & Scarred The Sacred Hearts MC Book I:


She's Shattered...

Ashton Granger is a perfect wife to her husband. She has to be, if she's not, he will find a way to correct any perceived imperfections. Such is life, and so it has been for a very long time, eroding Ashton's sense of self, cracking her sense of worth until she lays in a million pieces on the side of a stretch of lonely highway.

He's Scarred...

Ethan "Trigger man" Howard is the Sergeant of Arms for The Sacred Hearts Motor Cycle club. After several tours as a Marine Corps sniper overseas, he's seen and done enough damage for a man three times his age. He's out. Done. So over it, and home to nurse his wounds, physical, emotional and psychological with the help of his MC brothers. Now he simply deals with the scars that life handed him.

Was it more than just luck for he and Ashton both that he was the only other soul traveling that isolated stretch of highway that night?


“She’s hypothermic, her feet are pretty wrecked… how long was she out there?” Doc had had to administer a tranquilizer, which hadn’t been easy, and now Ashton lay small and frail in my bed. I stood, arms crossed and watched him assess. Holding her down while he had jammed a needle in her arm, all the while her howling like that wounded fox had scraped my damn nerves raw.

“No way to tell,” I said tersely.

“Well it was more than a minute. I’m getting her out of this party dress, you strip down she needs heat and you picked her up so you’re it Trig.” I scowled at him.

“The fuck you talking about Doc?”

“She needs to get warm. Stop worrying so god damned much about your womanly virtue and get undressed!” he commanded. I gave him a look that should have been able to strip flesh from bone and pulled my shirts over my head.

He expertly stripped Ashton out of her skimpy black party dress and grunted. Her delicate yet curvy body was discolored in more places than not by deep ugly bruising… Scars ran horizontal across her ass and high up on the backs of her thighs where she’d endured past whippings from a switch or a belt. My blood began to boil the more discoloration and scarring my eyes picked out on her small body.

“Can’t find anything broken that I can see… fucker knows how to make it hurt. Lot of liver and kidney shots. Belly is soft, don’t think she’s bleeding inside… Get in the bed with her.” Doc looked up and looked about as pissed as I felt.

No women.

No children.


I did as the old man ordered and got into the bed behind her, pulling her into the cradle of my much larger frame. Her skin was beyond cool, just plain frigid against my own.

“Right. I’m gonna take care of these feet then I’ll leave you to it. I need to get my drink on after this shit.” Doc set to work cleaning, disinfecting and bandaging her feet while I held her. Her shudders eventually diminishing to shivers and her shivers finally gave up after a small gasp of relief.

“She’s going to sleep ‘til morning. Best get some rest yerself.” Doc got up and pulled the blankets over us.
“Thanks Doc,” I murmured.

“Glad you found her when you did.” He shouldered his bag and went for the door.

“No women,” he grunted.

“Yeah, no women,” I echoed.

He flipped out the overhead light and shut the door firmly behind him and I was left in the dark with a nearly naked girl I didn’t know a damned thing about clutched to my chest.
What the hell was I doing?

Text Copyright © 2014 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved

Broken & Burned The Sacred Hearts MC Book II:


He’s Broken…

Dray, Vice President of the Sacred Hearts MC, watched his mother die in a bloody hail of bullets at the tender age of sixteen. It broke something inside of him and he’s been pretty much pissed off at the world ever since. Worse, he’s done things since that time that have just broken down his soul even further… Dray doesn’t want to be that guy anymore. Then came Everett Moran…

She’s Been Burned…

Evy is having one of the worst days in the history of, well… ever, and she’s seen A LOT of rough days. Raised an only child of a single father, Everett finds herself an orphan before she’s even old enough to drink. She knows a thing or two about loss and thanks to her boyfriend, she’s had more than a few lessons in hardship too. Still, she moves through life with a single minded determination to make her circumstances better… She harbors no illusions about life being anything other than what it is, so how in the HELL could she have been so blind as to what her boyfriend Jerry was doing!?

Could the worst day of Everett’s life actually turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to her when she pulls into Dray’s garage? Could Everett’s arrival on Dray’s doorstep herald a new beginning for Dray, and heal some of his broken?

**Mature Audiences Only (18+)**
**Language, Violence, and Sexual Content.**


“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded and Everett whirled. Her face was a study in raw naked pain. Tears slid from her too-wide steel blue eyes and she looked like she was ready to fly apart any second. Water dripped from the end of her not quite blonde, not quite brown, braid and tendrils of it stuck to her face and clung to the side of her neck. She was shivering but I couldn’t tell you if it was from shock, the cold, anger or a combination of all three. Our eyes met and I felt my lips thin. Her mouth hung open slightly in surprise and then she closed it and her eyes. Her shoulders dropped slightly in defeat and when her lips parted again it was to say,

“He’s Dray,” her voice was hollow, empty… 

He’s Dray.

Not, ‘he’s the mechanic’, or ‘he’s nobody’ or ‘just the guy that gave me a ride home when your punk ass wouldn’t answer the phone’… I don’t know why, but her acknowledgment of my name gave her a few points in my book.

My eyes cut back over to her boyfriend and my lip curled in derision. His dark brown hair was sticking up at every angle and he was shirtless and barefoot, the button on his jeans undone. His narrow chest spoke of a lack of time spent at the gym and in a split second I had his measure.

“You mind? My bitch of a girlfriend and I are trying to have it out over here,” he said and I felt my lips curl into an unfriendly smile. I put some heat and purpose into my gaze.

“Go ahead. Call her a bitch in front of me again. See what happens,” I voiced tonelessly and I swear the fucker flinched. I was a scary man when I wanted to be. I was shit-your-pants terrifying when I needed to be. I settled somewhere in between for this particular ass clown.

“Dray I’m so sorry you had to see this… What… What can I do for you?” Everett asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“You forgot your calculator, fell out of your bag.” I held it out to her and captured her eyes with my own. They widened, again, too much white around those baby blues for my tastes.

“You want to stay here with this ass clown?” I asked her softly and he choked incredulously and started spouting off. I ignored him and kept her eyes pinned with mine. I could see it all over her face. She was a hurtin’ unit and she didn’t want to stay.

“Are you fucking kidding me Everett!?” he yelled at her when she’d been silent too long.

“Do you even know this guy!?” he railed at her and that snapped her out of our silent exchange. She jerked as if she’d been slapped and turned on him slowly.

“Up until I walked in here and saw that hooker riding your cock on my couch I thought I knew you. Turns out I didn’t know a god damned thing!” Her voice was level and low and I smirked at the ass clown. I felt a little thrill of pride at her words.

“Everett,” I said and she turned back to me.

“Go pack your shit. I’ll take you out of here.” I crossed my arms and leaned a shoulder against the door frame and nodded at her to go do what needed doing.

“This is fucking unbelievable,” the douche-du-jour uttered and I hit him with another scary look.

“I’d G-T-F-O if I were you. At least until she’s done,” I said. Everett hadn’t moved yet, he was standing between her and their bedroom. Place was a fucking one bedroom. He crossed his arms and looked smug.

“You’re going to have to come back sometime,” he told her. I took a step into their space and watched as she raised her eyes to meet his, a look of steely determination crossed her face.

“Did you fuck her in our bed?” she asked him and his nasty smile was pretty much all the answer she needed.

“When I get back you need to have your shit out of here,” she said, voice cold.

“Uh you’re forgetting something Baby. My name’s the one on the lease.” He crossed his arms over his narrow chest and had the balls to look smug.

“You’re forgetting something too… I was the one paying the majority of the rent and bills.” She made to go past him and he caught her by the upper arm. She recoiled and I took a step forward. His eyes cut to me and he let her go. She passed him by and I heard her rummaging through her closet and drawers. I saw her fling a suitcase open on their rumpled bed and she started stuffing things into it, a laptop, a photo album, some yearbooks… I sighed. This was going to take a minute…

Text Copyright © 2014 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved

Cracked & Crushed The Sacred Hearts MC Book III:


He’s Cracked…

Reaver has always been a little weird, a little strange, okay MORE than a little of each. His psyche cracked right down the middle a long time ago. He holds the official title of ‘Treasurer’ for the Sacred Hearts MC but he’s much more than that. He’s the club’s enforcer, the one they call on when things need to be done quickly, quietly, efficiently and have no traces left behind. Which is good for Reaver, very good, because it keeps the monster inside his head satisfied and in check for the most part… but then Hayden Michaels entered the picture and Reaver decided that he wanted much more.

She’s Crushed…

The day was supposed to be the happiest day of Hayden’s life, instead it left her crushed beneath a pile of emotional rubble. Is it any surprise that Reaver would be the one to pull her from the emotional wreckage left behind? Sweet, funny, caring Reaver with eyes like the bluest winter skies and a smile that left her breath hitching every time he turned it on her. Trouble is, Reaver has a darker side, one that he has never given Hayden any illusions about. Will it be something Hayden can handle? Or will the cracks his psyche contains be the cracks in the dam that crushes her under a river of never ending pain?

**Mature Audiences Only (18+)**
**Language, Extreme Violence, and Sexual Content including anal & a MFM threesome.**


I didn’t think we were going to make it out of Florida without having sex. I didn’t really know how I felt about that. On the one hand, I wanted her with a deep seated gnawing ache that made my desire for my next fix of heroin back when I was addicted seem like a paltry thing in comparison. She was in my blood, on my mind, in my heart and like the other half of my soul within a blink of the eye and I didn’t understand it.

I didn’t want to.

There were some things in life, some people you met and connected with that just fit. Like peanut butter and jelly, we went together. I felt it in the deepest part of me. When we were together it was fated, meant to be and when we were apart, that gnawing angry desire pushed me to find her and be with her, near her, hovering over her and protecting her was too strong to ignore.

On the other hand I didn’t want to break us before we had a chance to get started.

There was a lot to this life of mine, to the life of being an Old Lady to one of the MC brotherhood… I didn’t want to put her in over her head and have it break her in two. I wanted her scared but I didn’t want her scared away. I felt like I was walking this tight wire act with her. I wanted so many things and yet everything that I wanted came at a steep cost.

Not for me, but for her.

I combed my hair forward and tugged on my cut, checked for wallet and keys and satisfied, I headed downstairs. Hayden was talking with Marcy, Tom was across the circular cobblestone drive swinging the back door on a dark blue Mazda shut.

Hayden’s body language said it all. She stood, completely unaware of what she was doing but she was hugging herself despite the oppressive heat. Her shoulders rounded in, as if to hold all that wild chaos of what she was feeling inside, and even though her face was smiling, even though she laughed at something Marcy said, I could see the hurt just there below the surface and I wanted to take it away.
Unburden her lithe, narrow shoulders…

I wanted to see those light emerald eyes of hers spark fire again. I wanted to see the happy, confident woman who stepped out of the locker room over a year ago. I wanted to pull that woman out of her, scare the hell out of her, ravish her and make love to her and fucking cherish her the way she deserved to be cherished.

I wanted to promise her the moon and the fucking stars and come Hell or high water I wanted to deliver them.

I just needed to figure out how. I knew one place to start that was as good as any. I slipped up behind her and made good on my self-imposed vow to give her the affection she so seriously craved, putting my arms around her and pulling her back against my chest.

The smile that lit her beautiful green eyes made an answering smile appear on my face. She leaned back into me and cuddled into my arms and she fit so perfectly there, our difference in height tucking her just so perfectly into the front of my body, under my chin.

“Ready baby?” I asked her and she huffed out a sigh tinged with contentment.

“Yeah,” she said.

Text Copyright © 2014 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved


Masked & Miserable The Sacred Hearts MC Book 3.5:


Squick has been a longtime fixture of The Sacred Heart’s MC. His boss, Trigger, is their Sargent at Arms after all. It took a while for him to put together a bike to become an official hangaround then prospect and he was pretty thrilled that his other boss, Zander, took the plunge with him. Still, Squick is hiding something, something big that could test friendships, destroy relationships and it has become a mask that is becoming increasingly difficult for him to wear.

Squick is miserable, there’s no denying it, and of course now that he is on the very cusp of patching in, that’s when Aaron walks in to his life.  Suddenly it’s do or die… Come out to the club and lose the brotherhood and the only sense of true family he has ever known, or don’t and lose them anyways when they find out about Aaron. Squick doesn’t see a third option, and the deeper he gets in to his situation the more his misery compounds. Just what will he do?

**Mature Audiences Only (18+)**
**Language, Extreme & Graphic Violence, and M/M Sexual Content**


“I knew I was different in about the fourth or fifth grade,” I whispered. “While most of the other boys were starting to notice Nikki Stratford’s budding tits, I was noticing how well Michael Donovan was filling out through the shoulders. It only got worse. I was into choir while the rest of the dudes were getting into sports. I liked drama and art class and the name calling started,” my voice hitched. These were not my favorite moments of history to relive. Like at all.

“I was fifteen when I came out to my parents and my dad first kicked my ass and then kicked my ass out.” Aaron made a sympathetic noise and I shook my head. “Don’t, don’t do that. I don’t want to be pitied,” I said and my voice came out harsher than I meant it to. Aaron cupped my face in his hands and forced me to look at him.

“Sympathize? Yes. Empathize? Yes. Pity you? What for?” he smiled and this tightness in my chest eased.

“What about you?” I asked, needing to get the topic of conversation off of me for a minute.

“About the same. I managed to hide it for the most part. I played baseball, took a girlfriend, went through the motions until I moved away from home. Got into college and everything is different in college,” he smiled like I should know and I shook my head. He looked surprised.

“Dad kicked my ass out when I was fifteen, remember?” I leveled Aaron with a steady gaze as I continued, “Disowned me; told my mother and my sister I was dead to them. I had this friend in high school, my only friend really, Sarah Warren. She and her mom took me in. Let me sleep on their couch for a while but Sarah’s mom was barely making ends meet. I tried to get out and find a job. Had to drop out of school… My art was what kept me going. I would draw as a way to escape.” I closed my eyes, this next bit was a bitch to talk about.

“When it got cold, I would beg for enough change… I needed a buck twenty-four. A buck twenty four was my ticket to paradise man. There was this shitty fucking diner and a buck twenty four would buy me a bottomless cup of coffee. Which not only warmed me up, but gave me a warm place to sit all day and helped when I got hungry. I learned pretty damned quick to lie my fucking ass off when somebody asked my age. I was fifteen fucking years old,” I scrubbed my face with my hands, breathed deep and breathed out.

I had done some shit, a lot of shit, that I am just plain not fucking proud of back then just to survive. You get fucking hungry enough or cold enough you’d do just about anything. I’d had to hustle, fucking steal, fight my way out of more situations… I’d done just about every drug known to man just to fucking forget where I was, who I was, what I was that had landed me in some of the shittiest fucking places. I didn’t want to think about it.  I didn’t even fucking know why I was telling Aaron any of this… other than he was the first and only person I had ever, never lied to and I didn’t want to start now.

“You don’t have to tell me anymore right now,” he started when I’d been silent too long, “I just… I just want to know you Andy, you’re different than anyone else I’ve ever met. Truer, more honest somehow,” he looked at me, eyes bright and I scoffed. If only he knew how fucking far off the mark he was.

“I like you Aaron. Don’t know what it is about you but you’re fucking electric,” I told him and he smiled. We kissed and that charge thrilled through my lips and went straight to my cock.

“Make you breakfast?” he asked softly against my mouth.

“I’d like that,” I said and let him go.

Text Copyright © 2015 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved

Tattered & Torn The Sacred Hearts MC Book IV


She’s Tattered…

One catastrophic night, Shelly Jordan's world was ripped to shreds. Now, living in an isolation of her own making, she's slipping away from everything and everyone she once loved. She can't piece the remnants of who she was back together with who she is now. Shelly can barely get through the next hour, let alone the whole day, and no one blames her for it. She tells the world she's fine, afraid to lose the only family she has. After all, there's no place in an MC for a used up club whore who can't bear to be touched.

He's Torn...

Ghost has had a thing for Shelly since first laying eyes on her. Still, Ghosty-boy don't share, and as a club slut, Shelly gives it up to whoever asks. If only she'd knock off her slut-tastic ways... But now she's hurt and he's torn in two. If he'd been less of a jackass, she wouldn't have run from the safety of the fireside - his side - that night. Ghost feels responsible for the horrible things he said that drove her into the predator's hands. Now he wants to man up and make it right.

Can Ghost stitch Shelly back together again when all he's ever really been good at is ripping things apart?

**Mature Audiences Only (18+)**
**Language, Sexual Content, Graphic Violence, and Strong themes such as sexual assault.**
I sat up with a strangled cry, chest heaving like it had that night. I flung the covers off my legs and planted my feet firmly in the carpet beside my bed.
“Floor Shelly,” I told myself, “Floor not pine needles, not ferns… Just a dream Baby. Just a dream,” I gasped out in a half mutter half whisper, repeating the words my cousin and his wife used every time I woke screaming. But I hadn’t screamed this time. I had woken up before the screaming had begun. Not that anyone had heard my screams. Sparks had kept his hand over my nose and mouth until I had passed out from lack of air.
I scrubbed my face with my hands which was slick with a mixture of tears and sweat and grimaced. I was hot, too hot and as a result thirsty. It was about this time I realized that I could hear the TV, faint from downstairs. I sighed unhappily. Reaver and Hayden had come home after all. I stood up, still a bit shaky and tugged my robe around me, belting it. I opened my bedroom door and peeked over the railing. I couldn’t see Reave, must be at the other end of the living room nearer the fireplace. With a sigh I descended the stairs and paused midway down when I realized the man on the end of the couch wasn’t my cousin at all.
“Hey,” Ghost said quietly. He sat with his sock covered feet up on the ottoman, a beer in his hand, perched on his thigh. Men’s voices came from the television, talking. I blinked.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
He gave me a half smile, “You weren’t at the club.”
“I didn’t feel like it,” I shrugged.
“Get thirsty?” he asked. I nodded. “Go get your glass of water, Princess,” he said gently and I found myself wondering vaguely how bad I must have looked. I nodded and went into the kitchen and got some water from the tap. I returned to the entryway.
“Better?” he asked. I nodded, unsure what to say. He smiled.
“You didn’t answer my question,” I said and he smiled a bit broader.
“Pretty sure I did.” He looked me over considering, “Want to keep me company?” he asked and before I could answer I felt my head nodding. I did, I really did. He patted the couch cushion next to him.
“What are you doing here?” I repeated dropping onto the couch a healthy enough distance away to make me comfortable but close enough I wouldn’t be considered rude.
“I told you, you weren’t at the club,” he said and took a drink off his beer.
“I don’t understand…” and I didn’t, at least I think I didn’t. Maybe I just wanted to hear it.
“I had my heart set on spending the evening with my new friend,” I closed my eyes, his voice was rich and melodic, pitched a little lower than he usually spoke, his tone soothing.
“I was tired,” I said lamely and opened my eyes. His hazel eyes flicked over my face, the brown centers radiating out to a rich green the color of new spring leaves.
“Yeah?” he murmured. I nodded. “Still tired?” he asked. Yes, but I shook my head no. He gave me that one sided tilt of his lips, that half smile I found so endearing and once upon a time, incredibly sexy. Who was I kidding? It was still incredibly sexy, which made me feel incredibly sad. There was no way he’d want me now if he never wanted me before.
“What are you watching?” I asked, if only to turn my mind away from how incredibly intimate the living room space had become. I was pretty sure it was just he and I in the townhouse, and the living room was cast in an intimate pool of light from the single lamp I’d left on in case Reave and Hayden decided to come home.
“Top Gear. You guys have on demand, figured I would catch up while you were sleeping,” he reached out a fingertip and I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. He stilled when I tensed.
“It’s okay,” he soothed and I held very, very still as he brushed some of my too long hair out of my eyes, across my forehead. He sighed, a heavy thing weighted with wistfulness and sorrow. God I must look pitiful. I sank back into the couch and stared fixedly at the television. 
Text Copyright © 2015 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved

Fractured & Formidable The Sacred Hearts MC Book V

Buy link:
She’s Fractured…
Mandy Price is best friends with Everett, the Ol’ Lady to the Sacred Heart’s VP, and roommates with them both… No one would guess that the preacher’s daughter could have such a dark secret, but Mandy had a big one. The product of a broken childhood, Mandy lives a fractured existence. She maintains the outward appearance of normalcy, that everything is just fine, when nothing could be further from the truth. Ever the dutiful daughter, she returns to her father’s church and his table every Sunday. Trouble is, things are growing worse not better as Mandy grows into her own. It’s becoming harder and harder to maintain appearances on a daily basis and Mandy is definitely feeling the strain.
He’s Formidable…
Revelator has had his eye on the innocent redhead from the moment he first saw her. Too much has been getting in the way of him pursuing the angel, prospecting for the club taking up just too damned much of his time. He was fully patched now, still, just when he was getting ready to make a move, that’s when his shop came down around his ears. Faced with rebuilding from the ground up, he’s decided that if he has to start from the beginning, he might as well go all in. If starting over is what has to happen then the life he plans on building from here on out definitely has his Red by his side and no one else’s.
It doesn’t take Rev long to find out what his girl is hiding, and when he does, someone is going to find out just how formidable he can be, not just in body, but in mind and with his brother’s backing…
**Mature Audiences Only (18+)**
**Language, Sexual Content, Graphic Violence, and Strong themes such as abuse.**

Hi guys,
A.J. Downey here, with a very special announcement concerning Fractured & Formidable, the fifth installment of my Sacred Hearts MC series.
In my travels and research as an MC romance author I’ve come across some interesting stories and even more interesting groups and organizations. One such group, B.A.C.A or Bikers Against Child Abuse partially inspired the story for Fractured & Formidable with their good works. That being said, I will be donating half of all pre-order and first month’s sales of Fractured & Formidable to my local B.A.C.A. Lake Washington Chapter which serves the greater Seattle Area.
I am not raising the price of Fractured & Formidable in any way, if you are buying my series for the love of my series, all you have to do to support this wonderful cause is one click the title as soon as it goes on preorder or in the first month of its release. That’s it.
Thank each and every one of you for reading, and thank you even more for your support in this wonderful cause.
Much Love,
~ A.J.
“Autumn Amanda Price!” my father shouted and I froze. I turned just in time for him to grab me, shaking me by the shoulders.
“Get your hands off me!” I shouted at the same time he was screaming something about me being ungrateful and disrespectful I shouted back, giving no quarter.
“Me disrespectful! How about you!? Up there preaching God’s word every Sunday but do you actually practice anything that you…” his hand flashed out of nowhere in a wicked open handed backhand that caught me right in the mouth. I let my head snap to the side with the blow. You went with it and it typically left just a red handprint it’s when you braced against it you got bruised.
“Jim!” my mother cried, dismayed and jumped back, her eyes fixed over my shoulder. My dad looked up and he turned several shades darker red than he’d already been and I turned too, to see Zander striding up the sidewalk and across our grass the devil’s own fire in his eyes, his car parked down the block driver’s door swinging wide.
“Zander no!” I cried dropping my binders to the walk, abandoning them to the grass, I put both hands to his chest and pushed but it was like trying to stop a juggernaut. Once it was in motion… he stopped though, chest heaving and stared my dad down for a minute over my shoulder before turning his eyes on me. My expression must have been frozen into one of sheer desperation because his look softened.
“Red, you okay Baby?” He cradled my face in his hands, his thumb gently grazing my lip, I jolted at the raw sting of it and his expression darkened. He pointed at my dad.
“You touch her again I will fucking break you!” Zander snarled. My dad drew himself up to his full height which was taller than Zander, of course, but then again I was taller than Zander. I blinked. Zander was here. On my parent’s front lawn.
It dawned on me just then and I found myself blurting “Zander! What are you doing here!?”
He returned those warm brown eyes to mine and his mouth compressed into a thin line. He pulled me into the shelter of his arms, my hands still pressed flat to the slick leather of his motorcycle vest, the name patch that read ‘Revelator’ rough beneath my fingers.
“I told you, Red, not disappearing on you again.” He gave me a watery version of that devilish grin, the chip in his tooth both endearing and menacing at the same time but he’d lost some of the tightly coiled rage when he’d taken me into his arms.
“Just who are you!?” my father demanded, Zander turned a rough look in his direction.
“I’m the guy who’s gonna fuck up your entire world if you ever lay a hand on your kid or your wife again,” he said.
Text Copyright © 2015 A.J. Downey
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved

Author Bio

A.J. Downey is a born and raised Seattle, WA Native. She finds inspiration from her surroundings, through the people she meets and likely as a byproduct of way too much caffeine. She has lived many places and done many things, though mostly through her own imagination.
An avid reader all of her life it's now her turn to try and give back a little, entertaining as she has been entertained. She lives in a small house in a small neighborhood with a larger than life fiancé and one cat.

You can find her on Facebook at or on amazon at

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