Ice Read Online Chelsea Camaron, Jessie Lane (Regulators MC #1)

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Biker, Dark, MC, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Regulators MC Series by Chelsea Camaron

Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 67663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 338(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Ice (Regulators MC #1)

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Chelsea Camaron

Jessie Lane

Book Information:

She's an investment banker. He's an outlaw biker. A little bit of heaven is about to meet a whole lot of hell.
Morgan Powell was raised to be perfect, to set an example for her sisters to follow. Her life has been dedicated to making something of her career, so she wouldn’t know what to do with a man even if you gave her an instruction manual.
Brett 'Ice' Grady spends his days trying to keep up with his teenage daughter, his nights consumed in Regulators’ MC business. He has no time for anything more than a casual hookup.
Two worlds collide when the dangers of his life crash into the calm of hers.
Can she go beyond her own boundaries and chip her way through to the man known to be as cold as ice?
Loosely attached to Chelsea Camaron's Hellions series and Jessie Lane's Ex Ops series.
Books in Series:

Regulators MC Series by Chelsea Camaron

Books by Author:

Chelsea Camaron Books

Jessie Lane Books




“Suck harder. Right there… Fuck yeah, that’s it.”

The half-naked platinum blonde kneeling in front of me sucks dick like a damn champ.

“Shit! Dammit, Dad!” my teenage daughter, Brooke, suddenly shrieks from across the living room while covering her eyes with her hands. Her voice immediately kills my hard on.

Pushing the bimbo off me, I stand to pull up my pants, wincing as I tuck my still sensitive cock away. I move forward to go find my daughter, who is not supposed to be home today. The blonde paws at me as I go to make my way past her. I would have preferred it if she would have run her mouth and taken off; instead, she is pouting at me because we didn’t finish. I wish Brooke could have just given me five more minutes to get off. Then I could have gotten rid of the broad on her knees. Tossing this barfly out the door would be a hell of a lot easier then.

“Get out. I’m done with ya,” I dismiss her, tired of the sulking look on her face. Damn woman, take a hint already.

With a huff, she rights her clothes, collects her things, and scurries out.

After making my way down the hall, of my not so modest home, I bark a sardonic laugh when I turn the knob to my daughter’s room and find it locked.

“Open this door, young lady,” I order, in what comes out as a bellow. We have danced this dance on more than one occasion.

“Sorry, I’m busy searching for the eye bleach. I can’t unlock the door right now, check back later.”

“Don’t make me kick it in. You want to go without a door again? Don’t traumatize us both. I don’t want to pass by and see you in your skivvies any more than you want me to… or worse, for Hammer to catch you.”

I am hoping like hell she listens. Last time, I took the damn door right off the frame. Later on, I wished I hadn’t, though. It ended up punishing me as much as her when I had to listen to that boy band garbage she calls music.

Within seconds, I hear her feet stomping over. There is a click, a turn of the knob, and then my one true love in this life glaring at me. The door may have won the first round, but this victory is mine. Having a teenager, I have learned to celebrate every win, no matter how small.

“Brooke, what the fuck have I told you about your mouth? Young ladies shouldn’t cuss! It makes you sound like a damn delinquent.” I chastise for her mouth when she first walked in. She was supposed to be at an afterschool study group. Teenagers, never following their damn schedules.

“Yeah, Dad, real good speech you’re givin’. Father of the year material, you are.”

“Don’t you get smart with me,” I say, knowing it is falling on deaf ears, not that I should be surprised. My mom did always liked to rub it in my face that Brooke gets her stubbornness from me.

“Anyways”—her tone is just as sharp as before—“now that you’ve kicked the dog out, what are we doin’ for dinner?”

That is Brooke: my sixteen-year-old daughter, my life, my world, and my eternal pain in the ass. If her mom was still alive, maybe things would be different. Maybe. Only I don’t have time to play should-a, could-a, would-a in my head, because I am too busy raising her on my own.

Erin, Brooke’s mom, was Brooke’s age when she got pregnant. We were young and dumb. Obviously, we didn’t think of protecting ourselves or give a second thought to plans for the future. Condoms were preached to us, birth control, all that. Yet, when the time came, we went at each other like rabbits and never gave a second thought to all that shit people had lectured us about.

When the little stick showed a pink line, I puked and Erin cried. Her parents immediately kicked her out and never got past it. With no job, no education, and nowhere to go, she moved in with my mom and me.

My mom was determined we would both finish high school. Stepping up to help us in every way she could, she worked two jobs to cover daycare costs and then spent many nights up with baby Brooke so Erin and I could study or do homework. I was a senior and Erin a junior in high school. It wasn’t easy, but we made it through. Having a family to support, I graduated and joined the Army right after Erin and I got married.

Leaving Erin and a barely one-year-old Brooke behind was hard; yet I was focused on having a career to support us, not only a paycheck. My mom was supportive of my young wife, helping out with Brooke as I was now gone more than I was home. Selection to Special Forces was hard, training even harder, but having my green beret was everything. I developed pride in myself, pride in my country, pride for my family, and pride in joining together with my brothers to give our all to something more than ourselves. Young? Naïve? Yes, I was. However, drive, dedication, and commitment to my team were what pushed me through the realities of my situation.