All I wanted was to spy on my brother’s motorcycle club. Nobody told me the president was hotter than sin.
That his stacked, tattooed body and blond hair would be my personal kryptonite. Or that he had a thing for me from the first moment he saw me in that biker bar. I should have been warned.
I’m just a single mom from Jersey checking in with my brothers because my uncle was worried they were involved in nefarious things. I had no idea what I could become.
Because after one week at the Wild Hair clubhouse, I’m unable to leave Iron Jack’s bed except for alligator chasing, shooting practice, and somehow, cutting through vines in the Everglades, well, uh, naked.
Forget worrying about my brothers. With Iron Jack by my side, I think the wild Pickle of the family just might be … me.
