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Authors: Bella Jewel,Becky Johnson

Hell's Knights

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~*Hell’s Knights*~

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Hell’s Knights
Copyright © 2013 Bella Jewel


Hell’s Knights is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and events portrayed in this book either are from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, establishments, events, or location is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Please do not take offence to the content, as it is FICTION.




There are so many people I would like to thank; it’s quite possible I could take up two pages with it. The support I have received with writing my first book, has been utterly mind blowing. I’ve had so many kind people offering to help, from blogs, to fans, to people I don’t even know. You’re all amazing, each and every one of you. Now, to the personal thanks.
To Bec Botefuhr – for tearing my book apart and putting it back together again. She sat with me for hours, helping me put this book together. Without her, it wouldn’t be done and she knows it. I freakin’ love that girl to the stars!!
To Lola Stark – my snatch grabber. She’s my budgie eating, whale toe, crazy friend who kept me smiling throughout this book. Without her, and her hilarious, witty personality, I think I would have given up many times. You’re my crazy bitch until the end of time snatch grab, and you know it!
To Sali Benbow-Powers – my crazy, enthusiastic BETA reader. Your notes kept me going, you ripped a smile out of me every time, without a doubt. Your personality is like a breath of fresh air, as I’ve told you before. You’re the kind of girl people go to when they’re feeling down, because you’re bound to make them smile! You not only told me bits I needed to change in my book, but you gave me a boost and always told me when I was going well. That makes you an amazing BETA. Aunt Sali fixes everything, don’t ya know? Best BETA reader ever!
To Kim, Melissa, Jodie and Megan. The group support you ladies gave me was incredible. The notes, the reading, and the enthusiastic message on Facebook - all of it mattered. Thank you all for the time, effort and support you put into me.
To Becky Johnson from Hot Tree Editing, AH, BECKY! You saved my ass. I had no editor, no clue, and you took time out to come and help me. You dropped everything and gave a new author some help when she needed it. Thank you so much for that, you’re absolutely amazing and one day, I’ll steal you to work with again.
To Ari from Coverit Designs. Girl, you rock my covers. Seriously, you’re the best cover artist ever. You just get an idea, and you make it amazing. Without you, this book wouldn’t look pretty, which means no one would buy it, so girl, you get half the damn credit!! I love your work!
To Love Between The Sheets for an AMAZING cover reveal tour. You ladies got my name out there, you helped me grow and expand. I can’t wait to do a blog tour with you, your energy is addictive!
To Totally Booked, for giving me a chance. You ladies were so friendly, warm and inviting. You shared my teasers and gave me one hell of a Goodreads TBR list! Thanks to you, half of Facebook is now sure to know my name. Rock on and keep doing what you do best!
To Tamara McRae for her fantastic release day tour, that she so kindly did at the last minute. You’re a freaking dream. Let’s not forget those awesome picture teasers we released each day during the count down. You’re awesome lady.
To all the other people who had a say so in my book, be it helping me find blogs, promote, being part of my street team - all of it. You’re all amazing, you know who you are. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
And of course to all my fans – You know without all of you, this wouldn’t be possible. So to each and every one of you reading this right now, THANK YOU!! Keep doin’ what you do
best, and that’s reading!!




You can find me on Facebook and Goodreads, some come on down and add me, give me some likes, keep up with my releases, or just drop in to say hi xx
When I figure out Twitter, I’ll be on there too. x




Hell’s Knights - Book One - Cade and Addison’s Story.

Heaven’s Sinners - Book Two - Spike and Ciara’s story - Release date TBA (Approx September)



Country Music Star Series - This will consist of approx. 2-3 books - It’s steamy, and has cowboys that sing, so keep an eye out. (The first book will be released October after the release of Heaven’s Sinners)

Wrong Man Series - This will consist of approx. 2-3 books. It’s also a steamy read, along the lines of rogue cops, kidnapping and some seriously hot men. Approx. November - December.

I also have another two or three series planned at this point, so do keep an eye out xxx






Life isn’t easy when you have no one. Everything you do, you have to do alone. There’s no one to lean on. There’s one to help you out when you’re in trouble. There’s no one to cry with, and no one to share your laughter. You get tough, not because you want to, but because you have to. Who am I to complain though? What is it they say? Someone always has it harder than you? It’s true. It’s always true. No matter how bad you have it, someone out there has it worse. Is that a comforting thought? Hell no, but it’s a fact, and sometimes fact is all you need.

My family…what can I say? Not a great bunch. My father is some big-ass biker, and he hasn’t seen me since I was four. Yes, four. My other was some pathetic one-night stand of his, at least, that’s what I assumed she was because I couldn’t see why any man in his right mind would knock her up willingly. She certainly was not mother of the Year; she drank a lot as I was growing up and is now dead because of a drug overdose. I’m twenty-one, and while that’s certainly old enough to live alone, it’s not old enough to survive when you have your mother’s debts to clean up, and a crazy pimp after you. I have twenty dollars in my account, that’s enough to buy myself a McDonald’s meal two nights in a row.

I’m not a bitter person; well, I certainly try not to be. I don’t want to walk around with a bitter expression and a bad attitude because my life isn’t a picture of happiness. No, I won’t do that, because I’m a strong, determined girl. A strong, determined girl sitting on a train that’s taking me to a father I don’t remember, because he’s all I have left. He’s also the president of a huge MC club. I imagine he’s not overly happy to see me; he certainly didn’t sound happy when he found out my mother died. I hate being the child that isn’t wanted. It’s a shitty feeling to have no one in the world that wants to love you.

Not one, single person.





She won’t wake up, and I know right way that this was a mistake. It was a huge mistake. I grip her shoulders, wrapping my fingers around her arms and shaking. She doesn’t move. God, no, this can’t be happening. Not now, not here. I shake her again, but her head flops to the side. She has a grey tinge to her skin that I’m sure wasn’t there a moment ago. I swallow, feeling the sting of bile as it rises up my throat. I don’t cry. My tears are now lodged into a place I can’t get to. I stare down at her lifeless body, and I know it’s the end for her. Guilt rises in my chest as I force myself to my feet.

I can’t be here. I have to get out. I’ll call the police, let them know it was a drug overdose. Then I’ll be out of here for good. I won’t look back. I stare down at the woman that brought me into this world, and I feel nothing. I don’t even feel angry that I never got to tell her what I thought about the life she gave me. I don’t feel sad that she’s no longer around. I don’t even feel happy that I don’t ever have to live under her shadow again. No, the only thing I feel is a deep emptiness that goes right into my very core and lodges itself there, blocking out any other feelings that may try to rise.

I turn, my fingers tremble as I lift her cell phone and hit the three numbers that will connect me to an ambulance - 911. When they answer, I simply tell them what I know as I stare down at my mother’s lifeless form. She’s going blue now, an ugly shade of blue that is making my stomach turn. I hang up the phone when the operator tells me to ‘hold on, sit tight, we’ll be there soon’. I’m sure they will be here soon, to take my mother to a cold place where I know she belongs. They’ll be here to free her of her life, but me…I won’t be. I won’t be here, because now I’m going to free myself of my life, in the only way I know how.

By running.



I tuck my dark brown hair behind my ears, and lift my sunglasses to stare at the large three-story house, surrounded by barbed wire, that’s situated right on the side of the highway. This is the address I was given. Apparently, this is where my father spends most of his time. I see a lineup of shiny Harley Davidson’s out the front, all sitting together like they’ve been perfectly placed. I can hear music booming from the large, red-brick home that looks like it’s seen better days. Is that a smashed window? This should be fun. I walk to the gate and rattle it – padlocked – of course it is. I look to my left and see a bundle of old stacked pallets. Grinning, I sling my backpack over my shoulder and saunter over.

When I reach the pallets, I climb on top of them and grip the fence with one hand, using the pole beside it to hoist myself over. I end up in the dust, on my ass, but completely proud of my breaking and entering efforts. After I pull myself to my feet, and dust off the light brown specks of dirt covering my jeans, I walk towards the large house. When I get to the oversized front door, I knock loudly, but nobody answers. Giving up on the house, I walk around the side until I find an old shed that voices are trailing out of. When I get close enough, I see a small door to the left. Taking a deep breath, I walk over and grip the metal handle, opening it.

When I step inside, it takes my eyes a moment to adjust to my surroundings. When I am able to focus more clearly, I turn my gaze to four men sitting around a wooden table. Two are smoking, all are drinking beer. One of the men stands as soon as he lays eyes on me, and I realize as he begins walking towards me, that he’s my father. I know because I see myself in his face, and I quickly realize where I got my dark brown hair and sky blue eyes. He’s tall and muscular. I’m tiny and petite – that seems to be the only difference between us.  His arms are covered in tattoos and his dark hair is tied in a long braid that hangs over his shoulder.  He also has a well-groomed goatee covering his top lip and his mouth.

I’m not sure what I expected when I saw my dad again. I don’t remember him, so I had no idea what it was I actually thought would come from this moment. I guess knowing he is a biker, I expected a fat, ugly, smelly man with a beer belly. Not the handsome, well-groomed man sauntering towards me. My mother, God bless her trashy heart, had such poor taste in men that I have to wonder how she snagged him. I am sure my mother was once beautiful, but all I remember was the scraggly haired woman with rotting teeth and a foul temper.


My father’s voice is husky, deep and…well…fatherly. I’m pissed at him though, I mean, how can I not be? He never tried to contact me. He never tried to see me. He never made an effort to pull me from the life I was stuck in. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for that. He left me to live in hell. He doesn’t know what my life was like, with those men she used to bring home. The dealers, the junkies, the trash off the streets. His life…the biker life…would have been a damned walk in the park. When he stops in front of me, I meet his gaze. For a moment, we just stare at each other, taking each other in, figuring out what we can say.

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