patched member of a one percent Motorcycle Club

that read romance novels and was a true romantic, I

wouldn’t have believed them, but one sure existed.

I met him by chance one night when he ran out of

gas and rang my doorbell.

Covered in tattoos and muscles, he stood on my

porch asking for a favor. He was a Selected Sinner, a

debt collector for drug dealers, a criminal, a thug,

and loved to fight. He was quick to draw his knife

and quicker to pull his gun. His temper was short,

his beard was long, and he was as handsome as any

man I had ever seen.

To hear him talk about the lost art of love made my

legs go weak. I was sure he was a phony, a wannabe,

a fake, and a player.

So I stuck around for a while to see if he was exactly

who he said he was.

And he took me for the ride of my life.

I’m Sienna, and I review romance novels. This is the

story of when I met the man who most women

would describe as a unicorn.

I just called him Vince.

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