The first in a new sexy romance series from bestselling author Chantal Fernando about the bad boys of the Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club and the women who fall in love with them. When I found my boyfriend cheating on me, I did something stupid. Or should I say, someone? Because of that mistake, I’m now stuck in a world I don’t belong in. I’m a law student. They’re criminals. He’s the vice president of a motorcycle club. I’m a good girl with a strict upbringing. He’s my ex-boyfriend’s brother. And I’m screwed. "Chantal has a magical way with Alpha males. This book has great chemistry and intrigue. I was swept up in the storyline." -- -Pepper Winters, NYT & USA Today Best Selling author "The snark and sass between Dex and Faye is hilarious....Fernando’s launch of her Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club series is plenty steamy. For fans of Kristin Ashley, Julie Ann Walker, and Joanna Wylde, and those who are heartbroken that television’s Sons of Anarchy has ended." ― Booklist Online "Chantal Fernando knows how to draw you in and keep you hooked. Dragon’s Lair is a biker book unlike any other, proving a bad ass chick can tame even the wildest of men. A heroine for the strong-willed women and an MC of hot bikers not to be missed." -- -Angela Graham, New York Times & USA Today Best Selling Author Chantal Fernando is the New York Times bestselling author of the Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club series, the Cursed Raven Motorcycle Club series, and the Maybe series, along with several other novels. She lives in Western Australia, where she is working on her next book. Find her online at AuthorChantalFernando.com, and on Twitter and Facebook. Dragon's Lair ONE I STARE at the old motel in apprehension, taking in its brown brick exterior and dirty windows. Not the Hilton, that’s for sure. Feeling sorry for myself is a foreign concept. I normally consider myself a strong woman. I need to be one, with the parents I was given and the career I want in the future. I have a strong will, and I’m not afraid to open my mouth and say what’s on my mind. I don’t mince words or back down. I find humor in awkward situations and try to make the most of my life. But I guess there’s a first time for everything, because here I am, tail between my legs, feeling more than sorry for myself. Kind of pathetic, really. I’d have thought sixty dollars would have gotten me a better room than this, but I was wrong. It has been known to happen. I check in at reception, paying for one night and trying not to stare at the mold on the wall. The bored-looking girl at the counter hands me my key, then I drag my feet to my room, taking one bag with me. Inside are my toiletries, clothes, and a few valuables—including my purse, passport, and food. Unlocking the door, I walk in and check out the room. A small bathroom, a couch, a bed, a fridge, and a TV. Eh, it could be worse. I put my bag on the couch and take off my sandals. Placing them neatly in the corner, I pull out a plastic container and open the lid. Reaching inside, I decide on a piece of apple. As I munch on the cut fruit I contemplate my life. I have five thousand dollars saved, a growing belly, and no clue what the hell I’m going to do. My entire life, I’d had a plan. I always knew exactly what I was going to do, and how I was going to do it. But now? I had no plan. It was a scary thought, especially under the circumstances. One thing I know for sure is that I need to keep moving. One night here, and then I’m going to keep on driving. I want to get as far away from my old life as possible. That shit does not need to catch up with me. I take a long shower, then take my time rubbing moisturizer into my skin. I have cherry-blossom lotion that I use every day without fail, and tonight is no exception. It gives me a little comfort, a little sense of normalcy. I brush my teeth, comb my wavy auburn hair, and climb into bed. Wishing I had brought my own sheets, I ignore the musty smell and fall asleep. This is my life now, and I can’t afford to complain. Literally. Another night passes and then I’m back on the road, heading farther north. I actually enjoy the drive; it’s nice being away from the city. Before it gets dark, I check into another sketchy motel and all but collapse onto the bed. Driving at night isn’t safe—there are animals that cross the roads. After a good night’s rest, I spend the next day looking for a job—­applying anywhere and everywhere. I’m not fussy; I’ll do just about anything right now. Beggars can’t be choosers. I’d never had to use that saying before in my life, coming from a fairly wealthy family. But just because my parents had money didn’t mean we were happy. Far from it, actually. A quiet knock at the door makes me groan. I’d just gotten comfortable. I force myself to get up, expecting housekeeping. I open the door slightly, just enough to see who it is through the chain lock. My jaw drops, and panic instantly sets in. Definitely no