MC Romance Young Adult Edition
Jade had been sheltered most of her life. Living in an isolated village with only sex and drugs to entertain. Her mother is an alcoholic and her father doesn’t give a damn.
Her only way out is to beg her Aunt to allow her to stay as a guest in their London house.
Jade meets fate head on in the form of Marcus, president of the Tyrants MC. She finally finds a family that loves and respects her and they are not BLOOD. Nothing comes easy to Jade and she is forced to fight to keep her title and status. Then just when life starts to go right, one-night changes everything.
˃˃˃ A raw emotional story about love, betrayal, and sacrifice.
"In Times of Violence had an addictive storyline. I actually got up in the middle of the night to finish reading it. I loved Jade, although I don't fully understand her or her motives." "Do not miss this book. Jade, Marcus and Dylan will bring out the feels." "Remember it's not always blood relatives that make a family!"
˃˃˃ From the Author<<<
In Times of Violence is very special to me. Some parts of the book are taken from my own experiences as a young adult. This coming of age story needed to be told. It was thanks to S.E.Hinton’s The Outsiders that In Times Of Violence was written.
I hope you enjoy the book.
I had to settle things with my parents. I had to sit them both down and tell them my plans, hoping it would be the last I saw of them. I needed to pack up my belongings and say goodbye to my horrid past, once-and-for-all.
Marcus wanted to come along with me, but I talked him out of it. He wanted to see the cursed life I’d lived, and wanted to meet my mother. I had painted such a black picture of her I knew he wouldn’t be civil and I wanted to leave on good terms, despite everything. Even though she’d abused me, she was still my mother. I managed to convince Marcus to stay home and went alone.
What a nightmare! My first mistake was not having Marcus for moral support. Secondly, I’d chickened out and hadn’t told my dad I was coming. I thought I could cope with just seeing Mum, rather than both of them ganging up on me. Third mistake, I wore my leathers. I think she would have gone easier on me if I had dressed down. Except that wasn’t who I was anymore. I wasn’t ashamed of who I’d become. I was proud to be a member of the Tyrants. I wasn’t going to shout it from the rooftops. I didn’t come home to show off and give the villagers something else to gossip about. I wanted to get in and out without anyone seeing me.
Mum wasn’t home when I arrived, so I used my key and let myself in. The house smelt of stale cigarettes, and damp. No change there, I thought. I’d only been in the room for a few seconds and already wanted to leave. Memories flooded like a wave, trying to drown my good spirits. I didn’t want to remember the unhappiest moments of my childhood. Literally shaking myself from the past, I cursed aloud for putting up with her shit for so long.
I expected her home soon, so I ran upstairs and started packing. I couldn’t take everything, just my treasured possessions. I’d been so busy, I didn’t realise how quickly the time passed. A door slammed shut, making me jump.
“Mum, it’s Jade. I’m up here.”
I didn’t want her to think I was a burglar. Maybe I should have phoned first.
Any loving mother would have run up the stairs and hugged her long-lost daughter, but not my mother. I timed her. It took her a full ten minutes before she came up. I heard the familiar tinkle of ice hitting the bottom of a glass, and the cabinet door being shut. Dutch courage, I wished I had some.
“Well, look what the cat’s dragged in. Decided to come home have you?”
Leaning against the doorframe, she held a glass in her right hand, a cigarette in her left. She looked a sight. Her hair needed cutting and dyeing, and I hate to think how long she’d been wearing the same clothes. She looked thin and haggard and had really let herself go. I turned away, unable to look at her in that state.
“I’ve come for a few things. I’m leaving, but is it okay if I stay the night?” I asked, pretending to be too busy to look at her.
She didn’t answer. Her stare burnt into my back, and I knew she was going to start.
I stopped packing and faced her. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t a weak, timid little girl anymore.
“Go on, say it,” I challenged her. “Get it out of your system, Mum.”
“Have you seen yourself? Look at the state of you. You look like a cheap street tramp.”
I kept my cool. “You’re a fine one to talk, you’re a fucking mess.”
She stared at me open-mouthed before launching into her usual ‘how dare you…’ crap. “I’m your mother. I deserve more respect.”
I lost it then.
“You’re not fit to be a mother. You’ve no idea how to look after yourself, let alone a child. You should be giving me respect. Do you know who I am, Mum?” Although tempted to tell her everything, I decided to keep my mouth shut. “For the first time in my life, I’m happy, and I have a life, no thanks to you. I have a great boyfriend and loads of friends. So, if anyone deserves respect, it’s me.”
She looked livid, and seemed ready to pounce, which would have been a big mistake on her part. Although my mother, I’d gladly take her down a peg or two.
“I think you better get out of here before I lose my temper,” I warned.
“This is my house. No one tells me what to do in my own home,” she shouted, spilling her drink on the floor.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Calm down, Mum. Why don’t you get another drink before you have a heart attack?”
She didn’t find that amusing and charged at me. “You little bitch. I’ll teach you not to talk to your mother like that.”
I stood my ground and pushed her away. She fell drunkenly to the floor. If she wanted a fight, she would get one. She sat on the floor glaring at me, trying to decide what to do next. Luckily for her, she made the right decision. Pushed herself up from the floor, she patted down her blouse and looked at me before turning around.
“You’ve got minutes to get out of my house then I’m calling the police.”
That was fine with me. I’d packed what I wanted.
She walked unsteadily down the stairs. I felt nothing but pity for her.
Five minutes had passed before I made a move to get up. My head was pounding. I went into the bathroom and opened the tap, letting the water run until it was ice cold, then I splashed my face and used my wet hands to cool my aching neck and shoulders. I cursed her for winding me up. I lifted my head and stared at my reflection. I didn’t like what I saw. “Shit,” I yelled and smashed my fist into the glass. It didn’t break, which left me feeling pathetic and weak.
I honestly didn’t want anything to kick off like that. I hoped I could leave on good terms, but our broken bridges couldn’t be mended.
I walked down the stairs with my suitcases and set them down near the front door. Mum was sitting in her armchair, staring out of the front window, a full drink in her hand. I didn’t blame her. I needed one right then.
Even with the anger I was feeling, the bond between mother and daughter was strong enough to break down the portion of hate I felt towards her. I remember thinking that it could be the last time I would see her and I refused to leave without saying goodbye. But I knew I wouldn’t have it returned. Her stubbornness wouldn’t let her turn and look at me once last time.
“Mum,” I said gently and heard the quivering in my voice. Hell! If I cried now, if I lost it and broke down, then she would win. There was no way in hell I was going to let that happen “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to leave like this. I want you to know I’m happy and doing well. Take care, and tell Dad I love him.”
She didn’t answer me.
I wiped my face, picked up my bags, stood up straight, and took a deep breath before walking out of the house for the last time.