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Jerk. Angry bastard. That’s how people describe me. Everyone in this small town knows to steer clear of me.
Thing is, they don’t know me. They don’t know what I’ve seen, what I’ve done. So I’ve learned to put up a shield to protect both me and them. When everything gets to be too much, I escape on my beloved Harley, the wind in my face calming my soul.
But my new neighbor hasn’t gotten the memo about me. She’s a walking, talking firecracker, and I can’t help but imagine what that feistiness is like in bed. She’s full of dangerous curves and a smart mouth that draws me to her like nothing I’ve ever felt.
We couldn’t be more different. I’m a grumpy asshole and she’s a sassy princess, but somehow, she sees through me and our spark is undeniable.
The question is… will we light up like pretty fireworks or a devastating explosion?
I should warn her that’s she’s not safe with me, but I’m tempted to take her for a ride.
A ride neither of us will ever forget.
Motorhead is a full-length Romance with an HEA, no cheating, and no cliffhanger!
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L ooking up at the neon sign that dominates the sunset sky, I whistle softly. Only one thought goes through my mind. Ho-lee Shit! I can’t believe I did it! Well, we did it .
I’m standing in front of the Triple B Salon, in awe of the magic that Brad and I have been able to work in such a short period of time. When we took over this place, it had been sitting empty for almost a decade. The problem was that nobody really knew what to do with a former drive-in hamburger restaurant that someone stuck on the county register of historic landmarks because John Wayne used to be part-owner. You can’t make a lot of changes to a place like that .
Then there’s just the pure insanity of our idea. Most folks in the beauty industry flock to Hollywood, eager to work on celebrities and have their names in the rolling credits of a TV show. If you don’t go there, you want to make it in New York, where the celebrities are just as numerous, but you also have a possibility at fashion industry fame. Getting your scissors on the locks of a supermodel is a lifetime achievement for some stylists .
Brad, my business partner and the funniest bitch I’ve ever known, and I both did that for years. We hooked up soon after he came to LA, our styles and personality just clicking fabulously. Brad mostly handled makeup, but he can snip a bang too. Meanwhile, I was the follicle genius, turning rat-nested, hungover A-list sluts into red carpet stunners. We worked the Hollywood scene doing movies, TV shows, awards shows, and more. I’ve had my fingers on more heads than a porn star gets her fingers around cocks. Name me a star who lives in Los Angeles, and I can probably tell you their hair care secrets—who’s got gray hair, who needs some extra highlighting, and whose hair isn’t even theirs. For quite a few years, I kept Hollywood’s secrets and dealt with their bullshit quite nicely .
But last year, after a few things happened on a reality TV show that just left us feeling too creepy-crawly, the bug to settle and have something to call our own got its claws in us, and now, here we are. I was surprised when Brad agreed to come with me, actually. I thought that, coming from a rather hoity-toity East Coast background, he’d found heaven in Los Angeles. But here we are .
After some research, we couldn’t really decide, so fate intervened. After a call from my friend Emily, who ironically triggered my sudden urge to get the fuck out of the California, we ran away from LA to Great Falls, a picturesque little town she’d told me about. It was where she and her now fiancé, Hayden, went the weekend after he asked her to marry him, and it’s just north of where she lives now. It’s a beautiful town, with a length of Main Street straight out of the 1950s, a brand-new luxury resort associated with the nearby ski area, and a vibrant arts scene that’s been famous since Norman Rockwell was painting .
Ironically, we won’t be giving up all of our Hollywood connections. The state has been doing a lot to try and get filmmakers to bring production to the state, and not just cable dramas or B-movie action flicks. There’s been a ton of movies filmed out there over the past few years. Chances are, if you’ve seen a small town scene that was going for that American sense of nostalgia over the past few years, it was filmed somewhere in or around Great Falls. It’s enough to give some people what my grandmother liked to call ‘airs’. Still, there’s a certain small town charm to Great Falls, and most people actually say hello to other locals they pass .
Talk about a change of pace! And that’s why Brad and I chose this storefront. Sure, there were a ton of challenges with the historic landmark issue, but it’s right in the middle of the main road leading up to the resort, where we can serve both the upper-crust tourists and the middle-class townies. And the landlord’s been a sweet man, who told us, “As long as the county landmark people don’t shit themselves, you’re free to do whatever you want to fancy up the place .”
When the landlord said that, I was a little terrified about what Brad would do. After all, I’ve seen some of his date photos. But I shouldn’t have worried. Brad’s always been artistic, even before he started focusing on makeup, and I have to admit that the result of his interior design vision is spectacular .
From the street, the big sign streetside has only been modified. The classic cowboy that has been there for fifty years now holds a pair of scissors instead of a Winchester, and the neon underneath reads Triple B Salon instead of Duke’s Drive In . We’ve kept the old-fashioned pull-in spaces as parking, while the kitchen and sit-down diner area were gutted. Three black- and white-striped awnings catch your eye, drawing your eyes through the huge plate-glass windows to see the crisp white salon chairs and bubblegum-pink walls. The pink was my only demand . . . well, request, because demanding things with Brad is a surefire way to start a riot. And he fights dirty, too. He’s not above taking a can of Aqua Net and using it like the LAPD uses pepper spray .