Special Kind of Twisted (Gator Bait MC #6) Read Online Lani Lynn Vale

Categories Genre: Biker, Contemporary, Erotic, MC, Sports, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Gator Bait MC Series by Lani Lynn Vale

Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 68859 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)

He had a way of pulling everyone into his darkness. Then, to make matters worse, he convinced you that you liked it there.
Kyle Davis—ex professional baseball player and current felon—loved Sara, his best friend. Strictly platonically, of course. He’d do absolutely anything for her, even put up with Greer, Sara’s other best friend.
What she was not was Kyle’s best friend. Or any friend at all, to be honest.
In fact, they couldn’t stand to be in the same room with each other, let alone breathe the same air for any length of time.
Then something happens, forcing the two of them to work together to keep Sara blissfully unaware of the danger Greer’s in.
They come up with a plan. Sara doesn’t need to know.
What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
The funny thing is, Sara knows all. Sara also knows the two of them are destined to be with each other.
She only has to convince them of it first.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************


This isn’t your typical story.

In fact, Sports Pro Lib rarely ever covers anything other than sports.

However, there is one particular story that’s taking the Major League Baseball world by storm.

Kyle Davis, first baseman for the Alabama Warthogs, has been sentenced to ten years in prison for involuntary manslaughter. After a legal battle from hell, it was determined Tuesday that Kyle Davis was guilty of the second-degree murder of another Major League Baseball player. That player being Martin Tibbs, second baseman for the Alabama Warthogs.

Last year, you could find the two men laughing it up in the dugout in between innings. This year, you’ll find Martin Tibbs in Mason Cemetery and Kyle Davis in a penitentiary.

What caused the friendship to go south?

Martin Tibbs was caught assaulting Kyle Davis’s sister. The two were set up by Davis himself.

Long story short, and gory details aside, Davis walked in on the act, and returned the favor by assaulting Martin Tibbs with an autographed bat by one of his idols, Jose Canseco.

Sadly, Kyle Davis learned that two wrongs don’t make a right.

The Warthogs dropped him, and now, the disgraced first baseman will spend the next however many years in prison thinking about what he did wrong.

More details to come.

Sports Pro Lib MEDIA Release


Just in case you’re confused, God will never send you someone else’s wife.

-Davis to a subordinate.


“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked my brother.

Years ago, when I’d gotten out of prison, my brother had taken it personally that I hadn’t moved back home. So, in typical Davis fashion, he followed me to Accident, Florida and got a job with the local sheriff’s office.

When I’d gone to prison, Finn had been a fresh-faced fifteen-year-old in the fast lane to be a professional baseball player. After my sister’s “accident,” and I say accident very fucking lightly, Finn had changed. He’d gone from sweet and innocent, and really good with his studies and his life in general, to mad at the fuckin’ world. Oh, and the caretaker of a woman that couldn’t take care of herself.

At first, that might’ve been because he was stuck taking care of our big sister after what I’d done. But, toward the end, it was because he’d finally seen the shit that this world had to offer.

Our big sister had been Finn’s legal guardian. Our best friend. Our confidant. And, even though she was my Irish twin, us being born thirteen months apart and barely any time separating us, she took care of me.

Then, all that had changed the moment that her date had decided that, after he’d raped her, he was going to force her not to tell anyone. That date being none other than a person that I’d set her up with, and I’d called a friend.

But that motherfucker had underestimated my sister’s will to live—she had to live and be there for us—and she’d survived. She’d lain in her house, on her floor, for fifteen hours as she waited for someone to come home.

Then, after practice, when we’d both walked in to “see” her, he’d acted surprised. Meanwhile, as I lay on the ground in a pool of her blood, whispering to her to hold on, she whispered the name of the man that was “freaking out” behind me.

The sad part was, I’d let the man into my house. Into my life. Into my fuckin’ heart.

I’d moved Finn and Carrie both in with me when I’d gone to the major leagues. They’d been my ride or die since before I could remember.

That’s why I’d reacted as I had when I found out that Martin Tibbs had betrayed me.

I hadn’t thought, just reacted.

And now I wasn’t a “professional baseball first baseman.” I was an “ex-con.”

Though it was getting better.

I now could say I was a professional bodyguard, too.

One that was so highly sought after that I had to hire a shit ton of people and couldn’t even do the bodyguard gig myself anymore. Not and keep the business running.

“You and your temper,” Finn teased, getting right to the point. “I feel like maybe you need to drink some alcohol. Want to do me and Sheriff Sunny a huge favor and volunteer for the drunk tank?”

“What’s that mean?” I asked.

“It means we serve you the best alcohol we can find, and some of the staff will do field sobriety tests on you as they pull you over. Though, this is all testing. It’s not going to be an actual traffic stop. We’re just going to see if everyone knows what they’re doing. Test out new products. That kind of thing.”

I wasn’t one to usually turn down free liquor.

But I felt like there was a catch.

“And why are you asking me?” I wondered out loud.

“One, because I never get to see you anymore. Two, because you never come home anymore, and I’ve had to work at the department and at home. Because you fired that overnight chick and never replaced her. Three, because I want to leave a good impression with my new boss. And you owe me.” He ticked off his fingers.