She’d spent her entire life as a wallflower, hiding from the rest of the world. 
Willow Thorne had gotten really good at blending in with the wallpaper. The shy, quiet little mouse was more comfortable spending her days in her protective little bubble. Then she met a big, burly mechanic who looked really good on a motorcycle and made her feel things she’d never felt before.
Gavin “Stone” Hendrix didn’t do commitment, and love was completely out of the question. After spending the first half of his life taking care of everyone else, he was done being the responsible one. Then he met a shy, nervous brunette who knocked him off his feet and made him question everything he thought he believed.
Willow brought out his protective instincts. Stone made her want to step out of her shell. 
No one in a million years expected the hard-as-stone biker to fall for the wallflower, but the small town of Redemption was in for a major surprise.
 

**The Redemption series is a series of interconnected, standalone, small town romances.**

It had been a good day.
Actually, that was an understatement. It had been a great day. At least until I got to my dad’s house to go through his kitchen and see what all he needed, only to discover that Elaina had seriously downplayed the need for food in his house.
I’d played it off that I was totally fine for my father’s benefit as I stewed in my anger while making a grocery list that took up the front and back of the page.
By the time I got to the store, I was in serious need of an outlet, so I cued up the Pissed Chick playlist on my phone, stuffed earbuds in my ears, and got to work. I was halfway through shopping, Alanis Morissette wailing about how you oughta know in my ears when I rounded the corner and my cart crashed into someone else’s.
“Sorry, I—” The rest of the words died in my throat when I looked up and saw the cart I’d plowed into belonged to none other than Stone himself, the very man I’d been thinking about nonstop since my talk with Lark earlier that morning. “Stone,” I said on a gasp, sucking back the air that my lungs had expelled at the mere sight of him. “Hi.”
He said something I couldn’t hear over the music ringing in my ears.
I gave him an apologetic smile and yanked the buds out of my ears. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you. What was that?”
The song had just reached the chorus, the volume so loud it carried several feet, and I could tell from the grin on his face that he definitely heard it. “Wow. Didn’t take you for an Alanis fan,” he said in that gravelly rasp that always made my skin tingle and pressure build between my thighs. What could I say? The man gave great voice. I didn’t know if male phone sex operators were a thing or not, but if they were, he could make a freaking fortune.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sometimes. I have a playlist I like to listen to it when someone’s made me ragey.”
On cue, the song ended, and the next queued up; this time, it was Rage Against the Machine’s “Killing in the Name.”
His eyes went big at the sound of it. “You’re just full of surprises, mouse.”

Listen to Willow's Pissed Chick Playlist!