FMX Bros Trilogy Bundle

Book 1—Cole

Rowdy. Tattooed. Cocky. Seductive.

Has bad boy Cole King finally met his match—a woman who will spin his entire world around? What starts as a simple bet soon becomes so much more.

Cole King lives the bachelor's dream life. He runs the family construction company and spends his free time in Southern California riding freestyle motocross with his two friends, Denver and Rodeo. Being the son of legendary rock star, Nicky King, Cole has always followed in his dad's footsteps, bouncing from girl to girl and never really stopping to fall in love. But when Rodeo bets Cole that he can't land a date with his neighbor, Kensington Modante, heiress to the Modante Winery, he accepts the challenge. Cole soon discovers that win or lose, it's a bet that will turn his heart upside down.

Kensington "Kensie" Modante has never been able to find the man that can win and keep her heart. She's decided she just doesn't need a man to stir up her contented, albeit slightly dull life where she spends most of her time helping her dad run his winery and riding horses. When Kensie meets Cole King he is just interesting and hot enough to give romance another try. But has she risked her heart for another chance at love or disappointment?

Book 2—Rodeo

Fearless. Protective. Tough. Sexy.

"We hadn't seen each other in years, but it felt as if we'd never parted."

Six years ago, Parker "Rodeo" Stevens left Montana and his dad's horse ranch to follow his dreams of riding freestyle motocross in California. And he's never looked back. But when hometown ex-girlfriend Sayler Russell shows up in town, she stirs up all kinds of old feelings, plenty of passion and a whole lot of trouble.

Sayler Russell left Montana to get away from a terrible marriage. She takes refuge in California and soon finds herself back in the arms of Parker Stevens, the one person in Montana who ever understood her. But a bad decision has put her in danger and now she has no choice but to run again.

Book 3—Denver

Strong. Passionate. Confident.

Will Denver's irresistible new neighbor be the one to finally capture this FMX bro's heart?

When Denver Mathison moves into a house at the beach, the last thing he expects is a beautiful and tempting upstairs neighbor. As his attachment to Jami Holliday, the beautiful musician, grows stronger, Denver must face the heartbreaking reality that her stay is short and that soon Jami will be walking out of his life for good.Jami Holliday is taking a vacation from her busy professional life and her overbearing mom. What she doesn't expect on her little sprint of freedom is to meet hunky, brainy freestyle motocross rider, Denver Mathison. Now she wonders just how she'll be able to tear herself away from the man who has stolen her heart.

Excerpt from Cole

Chapter 1

Denver twisted the throttle, and his bike hit the metal ramp at top speed. Man and machine flew into the air as if they were both equipped with invisible wings. He tilted the bike sideways and brought his left leg around so both legs were on the same side. He straightened the bike as he swung his leg back over for a smooth landing. 

Rodeo clucked his tongue in disgust. “Knew he wasn’t going to do that backflip.” 

“Shit, you kidding?” I nodded toward the ramp. “He barely had enough air for a Nac Nac. Our boy, Denver from Boston, has been out of it ever since Melody told him they were through.” 

“And that is why I never let a girl get into my head.” Rodeo’s black Oakleys were always a permanent fixture on his face, even when the sun wasn’t shining, which was rare in this part of Southern California. The wild print on his shirt made it hard to tell where the fabric ended and the tattoos began. He was one big blur of ink and pattern. Parker, or Rodeo, as we called him at work and at play, had grown up in Montana. He liked to brag that he’d been breaking colts since he was old enough to sit in a saddle, but now he preferred a horse with two wheels. And he rode a dirt bike a lot like a wild bronc, with grit, determination and a completely insane lack of fear. 

Denver pulled his bike up to the retaining wall where Rodeo and I sat. He dropped his goggles down from his face and shut off the engine. “I need a shot of jet fuel in my ass or something. Can’t seem to defy gravity these days.” Denver, my other roommate and coworker, was the opposite of Rodeo. He was the silent, take it all in and analyze the shit out of it type. He should have ended up at MIT or one of the big brainy schools, but he’d hated sitting in class and he’d hated homework. His greatest achievement to date, aside from a near perfect score on the SAT test, was pulling off a flawless backflip on his dirt bike. His smarts came in handy though. He was so skilled on the construction site, I’d promoted him to foreman just six months after hiring him.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard the gravity gripe before, bro.” Rodeo smacked me on the shoulder. “Speaking of gravity, let’s see who can get the most air. Denver will be the judge. Loser has to buy the winner donuts every morning for a week. None of those stale old pieces of dough they sell down the street. And since I’ll win this bet, I like donuts the way I like my women—hot and tasty. Oh, and I’d like the rainbow sprinkles please. None of those boring, monochrome chocolate donuts with the chocolate sprinkles.”

Denver stared up at Rodeo.

Rodeo lifted his hands. “What? Don’t look so shocked. I’ll win. I’m thirty pounds lighter than him.”

Denver pointed to his face. “This look of shock is from you knowing how to use the word monochrome in a sentence.”

“Ah, fuck you, you east coast snob. And maybe next time your parents name a baby they should consult a fucking map so they can see how far Denver is from Boston.”

A flicker of movement caught the side of my eye, and I looked back at the vineyard that ran adjacent to our property. My dad had bought the land as an investment. My sister, Finley, always joked about the many stages in our dad, rock legend Nicky King’s, life comparing them to all the different periods in other great artists’ lives, like Picasso’s blue period. The place I was now living at with my two roommates had been a part of his investment period. He’d decided he wanted to start a winery and purchased the land. One measly crop of grapes later, he got bored of the idea and switched to investing in urban real estate. 

Aside from the skeletal remains of the posts where the grapes had been planted, the ten acre spread was mostly barren land. At the front of the lot sat a mid-century ranch house, typical Southern California architecture. When Kingston Construction, another Nicky King investment and my main source of income, landed a big project building a resort and casino for a local tribe, I moved into the property to be close to the job site. It had been the perfect place to set up ramps, a track and even a foam pit for practicing shit that I was sure I wouldn’t land without breaking a few bones. I’d made my dad’s failed investment into my own two wheel playground. Rodeo and Denver had been working for Kingston Construction for two years, and they’d gotten me hooked on freestyle motocross. Or as my dad liked to call it ‘that quick trip to the emergency room sport’. Both of my coworkers had won some respectable competitions, and Denver was now making more money from sponsorships than from construction. 

I looked across the way to the neighbor’s property. The acreage was a far more prosperous vineyard than my dad’s. In fact, Modante Winery was the most productive and well-known wine business in the area. 

I lifted my sunglasses and squinted to the stretch of cleared land off to the side of the estate’s main house. It had been set up with a riding arena and stables. A girl was leaned down over a massive black horse galloping around a jumping course. 

I tilted my head that direction. “Who is that, Denver?” Denver had moved to the neighborhood when he was twelve and he knew a lot about the town. 

Denver placed his helmet on the wall and hopped up next to it. We all stared over the rows of grapes at the girl riding the horse. “That would be Kensington Modante, heiress to the Modante fortune. This is only the vineyard. The actual winery is closer to town.”

“Hmm,” I said, quickly losing interest. “I’ve dated too many of those heiress types, especially the ones with their million dollar horse obsessions. They are usually all snoot and no fun.”

Rodeo kept watching her. “Yeah? Well, I wouldn’t mind a crack at a snooty heiress. I’d like to be the one to introduce her to what real fun is. Course, I guess I’d have to be the equally snooty heir to a rock fortune like you, King, to get a crack at one.”

I turned to him. “Yeah, it’s your lack of family fortune that’s keeping you out of that girl’s riding breeches.”

“What? You don’t think I could get a piece of that?” Rodeo asked, pretending to be insulted. He nodded. “Yep, there’s no fucking way, but I take comfort in knowing that you couldn’t get her either.”

“Who says?” I asked.

“Fuck,” Denver muttered. “Here we go again.”

“What are you whining about now, bitch?” Rodeo asked.

Denver huffed. “This competition and betting thing is getting old. I mean, yesterday you two were planning a trip to the airport to see who could make the metal detector go off first with the metal plates in your bodies, which was already a competition when you two were comparing who’d had more injuries and broken bones. Then, there was the Cool Hand Luke style egg eating contest, and I had to listen to both of you puking your guts out all night.”

I pressed my arm against my stomach. “Dude, told you not to ever bring that up again, or cook an egg again. Fuck don’t even mention chickens, for that matter. And besides, betting is fun. You’re on, Rodeo.”

“With getting the most air?” he asked.

“Yeah, that, but the girl too.” I looked back toward the rider. 

“Don’t you want to know if she’s hot first?” Rodeo asked as he jumped off the wall.

“Just how shallow do you think I am?” I looked at Denver. “But, seriously, bro, is she?”

He nodded. “Haven’t seen her in awhile, but she’s a head turner.” A head turner coming from Denver was high praise. 

I watched her fly over another jump on the horse. “That has to be almost as much a rush as jumping bikes. Is she married? Suppose I should have led with that.”

“No, but I’m sure she has a long line of suitors,” Denver said. “I heard she’s been seeing Nate Harkin, off and on. He lives out here. He has some of the same sponsors as me.”

Rodeo pushed his glasses up on his head as if that would help his hearing. “Yeah? Nate Harkin, the four-time Supercross champion?”

I glanced over at him. “Shit, you look like the starry-eyed groupies who follow my dad around the country.”

“That guy is fucking amazing, and this bet just got better. You don’t stand a chance against Nate Harkin.” 

I laughed. “Fuck you, and your little Harkin bro-crush. What are the stakes?”

Rodeo straddled his bike and sat back, tapping his chin. “Let’s see. It’s got to be big enough to match the impossible feat I’ve laid out for you. Oh, I forgot, there’s one rule. You can’t tell her you’re Nicky King’s son.”

“You don’t think I can catch a girl’s interest unless I tell them I’m the son of a rock star?”

Rodeo pulled his goggles off his handlebars and slid them over his head. “Never said that. Just not that girl.” He pointed toward the vineyard.

“Let me just say that living with you two is far more fucking entertainment than I ever would have expected,” Denver said. “Does he have to sleep with her?” 

“Just a date and a kiss,” I said. “Rodeo being the perv that he is, he’d probably expect pictures for proof. If I don’t get to float the Nicky King connection, then one date and one kiss in three weeks and I win. You haven’t named the stakes yet.”

Denver crossed his arms. “This should be good. I can just see those little gears grinding in his semi-empty head right now.”

A gleam sparkled in Rodeo’s eyes. “That ‘69 Corvette you’ve been wanting to restore, that’s what I want.”

I laughed. “And what the hell do I get when I win? And it better equal that car.”

Denver snapped his fingers with an idea. “Rodeo has to do all the grunt work on-site, digging ditches, moving dirt, burger runs, all the shit everyone hates to do, for a month, without whining.”

“Perfect,” I said.

Rodeo stared up from his bike, looking a little less enthusiastic about the whole thing. “A fucking month? Make it three weeks.”

“Nope,” I said. “A month. Now go hit that ramp and catch some air. The loser has to buy pizza tonight.”

Rodeo pulled his goggles up from around his neck. “I’m thinking cherry red.”

“Cherry red what?” Denver asked.

“The color I’m going to paint the Corvette when her pretty little pink slip is in my hands.” He leaned down over the handlebars and kick-started the bike. A long rooster tail of dust followed his back wheel as he took several warm-up laps around the yard.

Denver looked over at me. “Just how the hell are you going to throw yourself into the path of a winery heiress?”

“I’m thinking our alluring, equestrian neighbor has just made it onto our Halloween party guestlist.”

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