Read Online Books/Novels:

Dad’s Ex-Biker Buddy

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Flora Ferrari

Book Information:

I thought I was just pulling my motorcycle off the road for a quick pit stop…but my whole world stops the moment I see her.

She’s unlike any woman this older man has ever seen…but when this younger woman disappears, only to mysteriously turn up later at my best friend’s house looking for a job, something seems off.

My best friend and I have ridden together longer than she’s been alive, and as much as I want nothing more than a life with her, I have to find out what she’s hiding.

It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted someone like this…the first time I met a woman who I knew was my equal…and when she tells me she’s ready to experience a first time of her own, the possessive side of me comes out knowing it’s time to claim her as mine…forever.

This former biker mc member will do whatever it takes to unravel her past and get to the bottom of the mystery that is this younger woman…but will I lose my best friend since our motorcycle club days in the process?

*Dad’s Ex-Biker Buddy is an insta-everything “very lite motorcycle club” standalone instalove romance with an HEA, no cheating, no dubcon, and no cliffhanger.

Books by Author:

Flora Ferrari Books



A line of red fire shoots out from the tight spot between the end of my foot peg and the asphalt. I know it’s dangerous to do it but the darkness surrounding me and the fact that I’m the only one out here invites me to paint the road with these fleeting but intense moments of riding.

The air feels cold as I negotiate the tight bends of the mountain pass on my old, trusty bike. Everybody’s told me to get rid of it, to buy a newer model that doesn’t need as much repair and “is from this century,” but they don’t understand. This bike has been with me since the beginning, through thick and thin, and has accompanied me as I went from a nobody born in the bad part of town to an upstanding citizen respected by the whole community.

I always hated how fast people changed their opinion of me, first negative and entirely based on my rugged and unkempt look, and then overly positive after finding out I’m rich. How pointless and shallow is that? Despite being a thug for a big portion of my young adult life, I always felt an instant connection with genuine people. Too bad there are so few left in the world.

I snap out of my thoughts as I see the lights of Briar’s Lodge near Red Rock Point, one of my favorite watering holes. The place offers a great view of Heavens Peak, plenty of beer, and soothes my soul. I park my baby near a row of standard shiny choppers, bought and poorly personalized by city folk who watch too many episodes of Renegade. I can hear the noise spill out from inside. It must be one of those guided wilderness motorcycle tours that I hear are getting popular these days.

I enter the place and casually wave to Ron the bartender, as I pass two joined tables full of slick-looking, Gucci-wearing men that sport more motorcycle protective gear than necessary. They celebrate some birthday or something, and all seem desperate to look happier than they actually are. Their smiles are grimaces, and their laughter sounds like hyena howls to me. They’re so fake, trying to recapture feelings of long lost youth, and looking stupid doing so.

I walk past, and some of them turn their heads and disapprove of me with their eyes. My battered leather jacket must not meet their shiny standards. One of them raises his nose in disgust and lets out a condescending “Hmmpf”. I decide to play the country bumpkin and mess with them a little.

“Good evening, ladies. Now, what is a fine bunch of good-looking metrosexuals like you doing in a dump like this?” I say, looking the condescending asshole right in the eye.

His jaw drops, looks around the now silent table and responds. “I beg your pardon?”

“What I really said, since you seem too thick to get it the first time around, was. You boys looking for a fight? Is that why you’re giving me the stink eye? Cause I’ll be happy to perform some reconstructive surgery on that well-groomed, properly-hydrated jaw of yours. Free of charge, of course. I’m generous like that.”

“Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?” He responds, putting a hand on his chest in the most feminine way possible. I don’t know what to think of the guy.

“You looked at me first. Here I was, minding my own business when you decided to show me the insides of those pretty nostrils of yours. Round these parts here that mean one of two things, either you wanna fight, or you wanna get fucked. I’m bettin’ it’s the latter, judging by those purty, feminine lips of yours.” I retort, trying my best impression of an inbred idiot.

“Can I speak to the manager?” He immediately diverts, turning his head to the bartender.

“You want the nice man to save you from the big bad guy? Is that it? I reckon your the type to start shit and then drop it as soon as it gets dicey. Let me tell you something, purty lips you better think twice about doing that in the countryside. You never know when you’re gonna stumble upon some crazy folks that don’t take that kind of shit lying down.” The asshole’s completely sold on my impromptu act. None of them expected this exchange to happen, so they’re caught off guard and unable to retort. He looks like an idiot trying to solve a hard math problem completely lost.

I almost lose my hillbilly composure, but manage to keep a straight face and decide to end it. I don’t want to start a fight in my favorite bar. “If any of you fine ladies wants something from me, I’ll be on the observation deck.” I finish and walk off with Ron giving me a silent disapproving look from behind the bar.