Series: Rebel Wayfarers MC, #12
Author: MariaLisa deMora
Genre: MC Romance
Release Date: October 29, 2018
losing the woman he believed his one and only, can a man like Hoss have a
second chance at true love?
main book in the Rebel Wayfarers MC saga.
years, agoraphobic Cassandra Williamson has struggled to keep her world from
collapsing entirely by pushing to do things that bring her pleasure, even as
they carry fear. Acquiring art is one outlet she doggedly pursues, determined
to bring compelling pieces into her life, even at the cost of nerve-racking
visits to crowded gallery showings.
long-time admirer of reclusive artist Isaiah Rogers, Cassie has made a point to
snap up what she can of the increasingly rare pieces of artwork the
biker-turned-painter makes publicly available. Any evening spent at one of his
showings becomes a longed-for escape from her ever-narrowing world. The thing
with these showings though, is to see…you must also be seen.
organizing a meeting with the pretty, blonde art-lover Hoss found so
intriguing, his emotions are stirred for the first time in years by a curiosity
that feels inexplicably more. He’s been alone for such a long time, could this
be his chance to find love again?
many enemies defeated, life in an outlaw MC is never easy, or safe, and Hoss is
forced to make a choice: His happiness, or perhaps her very life.
note this book is part of the Rebel Wayfarers MC book series, featuring
characters from additional books in the series. If the books are read out of
order, you’ll twig to spoilers for the other books, so going back to read the
skipped titles won’t have the same angsty reveals. I strongly recommend you
read them in order. Available now: Mica (book #1), Slate (book #2), Bear (book
#3), Jase (book #4), Gunny (book #5), Mason (book #6), Hoss (book #7), Duck
(book #8), Watcher (book #9), Bones (book #10), and Fury (book #11).
pulled in from the get go and just loved how it gave me all the feels! I
enjoyed the secondary characters and love how MariaLisa adds them in. Never
overtaking, always giving the story more than you thought possible.” –
Shay, Mommy’s A Book Whore
the many reasons I love this author’s writing style is because of her ability
to make me feel everything. I never finish one of her books without feeling
like I’ve been through the wringer, having my emotions squeezed out of me…. I’m
feeling very bittersweet about this being the end of such a beautiful journey.” – Rosa, iScream Books Blog
most definitely the best and saddest goodbye I have ever had to endure. I’ve
grown to love these characters so much. I will never forget their journeys to
finding love and the brotherhood that makes them the BEST MC series I have ever
enjoyed.” – Naughty Mom Story Time
Williamson sat on her couch and stared at the wall. Tomorrow, that empty, bare
spot would be filled with beauty. Tomorrow.
artist’s gallery show ended yesterday, and from past experience, she knew it
took the service two days to crate and move the sold pieces. The timing was
predictable, happening like clockwork, something she deeply appreciated.
Tomorrow she would have to open her door, allowing people she didn’t know entry
into her house. Maybe they’ll send the same delivery men. Barry and his crew. I
can hope. Scant solace in that thought. Even if she liked him, Barry would
still be invading her sanctuary. She drew a shuddering breath through her nose
and then slowly blew air back out her pursed lips. I can do this, she thought,
fists clenched tightly, pressing hard against the tense muscles in her thighs. I
can do this. Another hard-earned breath, pulling air through an ever-tightening
flicked her gaze towards the door, and her heart raced faster, picking up more
as she looked back to the empty space. Then—and the conscious focus shift
allowed her to relax slightly—to the covered walls that surrounded her. Over
the past seven years, she had collected six paintings from the same local
artist. Six pieces of art which, when she looked at them, drew her out of
herself and back into memories of the world for at least an evening,
remembering the first moment she saw them. Love at first sight. She released a
humorous snort, the near brush with panic slowly ebbing away, fingers of
tension easing from around her lungs. Paintings initially glimpsed across a
crowded room, the colors and composition of the art calling out to her with
such impact that she couldn’t walk away without knowing she would take some of
that beauty with her. Each of the six provided her with a window into a world
she hardly inhabited any longer.
almost ten years.
thought snaked through her mind, bringing the panic back full force, freezing
her into place, eyesight dimming around the edges as she fought for control.
had been dealing with the affliction of anxieties all her life. From the
near-normal teenage angst of obsessing over socially awkward moments up through
now, when her fears could practically paralyze her, they were always there. She
had pushed through when she could, found comfort in draping herself in soothing
rituals, and used coping strategies to smooth over the anxiety when she
couldn’t. Lately, the struggle seemed harder than ever, and it took real work
to find reasons to force herself out of the house. Cassie wanted to refuse to
bow before the demands of her anxiety, needing to experience anything, trying
to bull through dealing with even the most uncomfortable situations in an
effort to keep her world from narrowing even more than it had.
shows were one way she’d determined she could draw herself out. But it couldn’t
be just any shows. God, no. The art has to be worth it. She had gained that
knowledge after dealing with horrifically public panic attacks in the middle of
more than one gallery.
she would know afterwards that not every eye had turned towards her. But, in
that moment, the weight of imagined stares could nearly bow her in half, making
it impossible to move even an inch towards the temporary reprieve and safety in
a bathroom, or the emotional failure of an exit. She’d be stuck in the center
of a room, face, by turns, burning red or pale as death, her breathing fast and
loud or drawn as tiny, short pants that invited dancing black spots of
hyperventilation along the edges of her vision, and her skin damp with sweat
that smelled like terror.
thought of a public attack raised her respiration rate and Cassie had to fight
to bring herself under control, refusing to spiral while sitting on her own
couch. I’m safe here. Safe. Safe. Safe. She held tight to a failing conviction
that felt slippery as an oiled snake. I hate being like this.
stared at the uncomplaining empty space on the wall, a blameless opening
patiently waiting for delivery of the piece she bought. There’d been wide-open
terrain surrounding the beautiful woman in the painting, but somehow those
vast, unfenced fields hadn’t been frightening when captured in stillness on
canvas. Ease with an expanse like that was an anomaly for her, and she looked
forward to hours of exploring the shading and pigmentation the artist used.
artist. Cassie let herself think of him for a moment. Isaiah Rogers,
semireclusive phenomenon and conundrum. A man who could create impossibly
beautiful art while living the life of a solitary biker, at times compared by
art critics to eccentric masters of the past. She pushed from the couch and stood,
still staring at the wall. Breathe. She attempted to pull a ritual into play as
she consciously ran the script through in her head.
morning I will hear the doorbell and open the door. Nothing bad will happen.
let the men in, and they will hang my new piece in place. Then they will leave.
Nothing bad will happen.
will go just as they always have with the deliveries. Nothing bad will happen.
job. They will do their job, and then they will leave. And, nothing bad will
happen to me. Never again.
© 2015-2018. MariaLisa deMora. All Rights Reserved.
Yourself Band series
• • • • • • •
This, Nor That MC series
• • • • • • •
early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library,
devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she
says “I’ve always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and
found I adored that, too. For reading … if nothing else is available,
I’ve been known to read the back of the cereal box.”
embraces her inner geek and has been working in the tech field for a
publishing company for a couple decades.
genre — jazz, country, rock, alt rock, metal, classical, bluegrass, rap,
hip hop … you name it, I listen to it. I can often be seen dancing
through the house in the early mornings. But I really, REALLY love live
music. My favorite thing with music is seeing bands in small, dive bars
[read: small, intimate venues]. If said bar [venue] has a good selection
of premium tequila, then that’s a plus!”