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review 2019-02-10 09:02
Book Review for Safe Rider by Jessica Ames
 
 
 
 
 
Title: Safe Rider
Series: A Lost Saxons Novel #2
Author: Jessica Ames
Genre: Contemporary MC Romance
Release Date: November 9, 2018
Cover Design: Kellie Dennis at Book Cover by Design
Reviewed by Angels With Attitude Book Reviews
5 stars from us
Arc copy provided for honest review
 
 
Rule #1 of getting life back on track: don’t fall for a biker…
 
A new life; a new start—that was what Liv needed after escaping her violent marriage. Moving to Kingsley was a chance to rebuild what was broken and show the world she wasn’t defeated by her past. No part of that plan involved falling in love with a biker.
 
Dean never expected to want the sweet woman living across the street. She’s not his type, yet he can’t stay away from her. When trouble follows Liv, he’s one step behind, ready to defend her because his time in the Lost Saxons Motorcycle Club has taught him two things: how to ride and how to protect what is his. And Liv is his—even if she doesn’t know it yet.
 
Let's start off by saying that this is a new author for us and we throughly enjoyed our first read by them and we really loved the book cover as it was just beautiful.
 
The story was engaging enough an had a serious story line that kept your interest as the story flowed we liked getting to know the characters and I have to say that we found them like-able,engaging and funny.
 
I loved Olivia/Liv and how she had the courage to change her life.We found her to have courage, be loving,giving,ski-dish,independent ,loved how she showed us that she had a backbone and that she was strong and beautiful inside and out.I loved no matter how many reservations she had when it came to Dean and his club she seemed to always draw her own conclusions from the deeds he did and the person he was when he was around her and with her.
 
I loved Dean from the onset of the story as he was just so love-able,patient, kind,giving,protective,possessive in a positive way in which he made Liv feel safe and was sexy as sin.
 
I loved the chemistry this couple had and how their relationship developed slowly and sweetly and how Dean was patient and understanding with her and the struggles Liv had with trust issues.All these things made Dean more endearing to us and more love-able.
 
The story had just enough drama and a sweet love story and character engagement to the keep the story interesting.I normally like a story with a bit more heat and I wish their was a little bit more of the club drama thrown in the mix but, considering the seriousness of the content of the story it was going to take time for Dean to make Liv his I think we new that the story  would concentrate more or the romance aspect then club drama so we weren't that disappointed.
 
I thoroughly enjoyed the fact that the characters were total opposites yet fit perfectly with one another and I believe Dean being a bit edgy and had a bit mystery to him was just the thing to bring her back into the living again.Dean was someone she trusted and felt safe with and someone totally opposite of the men she had been previously attracted to.
 
The story was emotional and engaged your emotions and we love stories just like that.
 
Our favorite quote from the story
 
"No, I know I offended him. I don’t want to end up on some kind of ‘whack’ list, Hol.”
 
lol
 
 
I would definitely read more in this continuing series.
 
  



 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Chapter Two
 
 
Present day…
 
I'm unloading groceries from my car when I first see him. It's the roar of the engine that draws my attention. It's so obnoxiously loud in the quiet cul-de-sac that I can't stop my eyes from gravitating towards the sound. As I do, the mid-afternoon sunlight catches the chrome pipes, momentarily blinding me before the bike moves into the shadows of the trees lining the road.
I don't know a thing about motorcycles, but I can appreciate the beauty of it. It's a beast of a machine, with an emerald green fuel tank and pearl accents. It's a bike designed to catch attention, and it does. Even if it didn't, the man riding it would. To say he's imposing is an understatement.
With fascination—and a healthy dose of trepidation—I watch as he stops the bike in the driveway opposite my house and pulls off his helmet.
His head is covered in a thin layer of dark fuzz, which is at odds with the amount of hair covering his jaw, and every inch of skin not covered by clothes is inked. I'm more than certain his body is covered in even more artwork than I can see.
He isn’t classically handsome, nor is he the type I would usually find attractive, but there is something about him. Maybe it’s the bad boy vibe, or the confidence of his movements—I'm not sure. He's only wearing plain, boring, black jeans—nothing special—but they do fit him perfectly. The dark denim hangs in a way that accentuates his narrow hips and his tight bum. Beneath his leather vest he has on a loose, dark sweatshirt, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Looking at him, it’s like he rolled up out of hell to cause mayhem. Simon could never pull off that look, not in a million years. He is a trousers and button-up shirt kind of guy.
He's also a huge bastard—one that should not be entering my head at all.
My breath catches and all thoughts of Simon vanish as the biker turns and I get a full view of the back of his vest. There are two crossed swords dripping blood onto a skull wearing a helmet. This is macabre enough, but it's finished off with a T-cross piece over the skeletal nose and red, burning coals for eyes. The words 'Lost Saxons' are arced across the top of the garment, 'Kingsley' across the bottom.
He's not just a biker, he’s a biker.
I'm not a native to Kingsley, but I also don’t live under a rock; I know what the Lost Saxons Motorcycle Club is. They're well-known, even outside the former colliery town. If the newspapers are to be believed, they deal in drugs, weapons—anything that will give them a quick payout. They're criminals, a gang of men dedicated to living outside the confines of the law, and from the looks of it, I have one of their members living across the road from me.
And he definitely lives there because he's moving up the path towards the front door with a comfortable ease that only comes from being in your own space.
The bands around my chest loosen a little as he steps inside the house, the front door banging closed behind him, and once again peace and tranquility return.
I’ve been in Kingsley for more than a year, but I’ve only been renting this property for the past three months. It’s the first time I’ve felt truly happy since I left Simon; the therapy, the breathing techniques, the finding something good in each part of the day is working and I finally feel as if I’m moving forward.
But now I have a biker living on my road.
Maybe I can move somewhere else…
Except, I signed a twelve-month tenancy agreement. Why? Because this house has a good square footage, is in a quiet part of Kingsley and was a bargain.
Now, I’m wondering if Mr Biker is the reason why the rent is so cheap.
I shake myself.
Firstly, for being so judgmental; I’m not usually. This is because so many people have judged me over the years and usually they come to the wrong conclusion. Secondly, because in the months I’ve lived here, this is the first time I’ve seen him. Clearly, he’s not a frequent visitor to the house.
I stare at the now-closed door and sigh. Maybe I should worry about my own problems and not who is living across the street from me. But I can’t help but feel concerned. I left my old life behind, reclaiming what was left of the woman I was before I met Simon. Even after all this time, I’m still trying to work out who this version of me is, but I figure she’s the kind of woman who would not care about the biker living across the street. I also figure she is the kind of woman who doesn’t get involved in other people’s business unless it becomes her business.
But he is a problem and he most definitely is my business, because he lives spitting distance from my front door. I don’t need the kind of trouble this man and his Club will bring. I need quiet, and I need safety. I don’t need the police camped on the front lawn.
Feeling irritated—and a little anxious—I reach into the boot of my car, gather up my shopping bags and heave them out with a grunt. Juggling my load, I fumble for the lid of the boot and manage to get it closed without dropping anything. This is a feat in itself, given how heavy these bags are. How much did I buy?
This is something I have struggled to get used to since I set out on my own: shopping for myself. I was so used to getting whatever Simon wanted, not what I wanted or needed that I now have a tendency to overindulge when I’m in the supermarket. I have to remember I’m on a budget and that I can’t afford a hundred pounds a week food bill. But the freedom to do as I please goes to my head more often than I would care to admit—even after all this time.
I barely take two steps before I feel something shift. Then, the weight of the bags changes as the plastic splits from handle to seam. Laden down as I am, I can do nothing but watch in seemingly slow motion as my milk carton hits the concrete at force, spraying white into the air like a geyser while the rest of the contents spill out onto the pavement, my apples rolling to settle in the gutter.
Well, shit.
I move to my car and carefully place the other bags in the boot before turning back to the carnage I have wrought. A white river of milk is free-flowing across the paving slabs and staining the grassy verge.
Shit, shit, shit.
I move to pick up the first fallen item—a ruffled looking lettuce—when a deep, gravelly voice says, "Do you need a hand?"
I jump practically out of my skin; I can't help it. It’s not a normal response and I know this, but I can't stop it. My flight response battles with my fight for dominance as I spin around. And my body, which has been conditioned to react over the years, tries to recoil. It takes everything I have to stand still as I let out a garbled yelp.
"Jesus!" I gasp out as I realize the voice belongs to my neighbor from across the street: the biker.
For a moment a tendril of fear works through me, but it winds back a notch when he doesn’t make any sudden movements. I put a hand to my sternum, trying to control my thrumming heartbeat, then drag in a shuddering breath as my counselors voice sounds in the back of my mind: I am in control; I can keep myself safe.
And I can. I have been doing it for months now quite successfully.
For his part, Mr Biker looks contrite and slightly concerned, as if worried I may keel over. It is a possibility, given how much of a workout my respiratory system is getting, courtesy of him.
"You nearly gave me a coronary,” I snap, which is probably not the best idea, given the present company, but shock makes my mouth engage before my brain. 
"Fuck," he mutters, as a tattooed hand runs over his buzzed head. My eyes of their own volition follow the movement and I have to drag my gaze back to his face. "I didn't mean to scare you."
“It’s okay,” I mutter.
This close up, I can see his eyes are pale, a blue so light it looks gray. He’s also wearing a ring through his left nostril that I shouldn’t like, but find I do. I don’t usually like piercings, nor do I like tattoos, but he pulls both off perfectly. Too perfectly, really. He’s nothing like Simon who was more at home in a suit rather than jeans and never left the house without ensuring his hair was perfectly styled. I doubt this man cares about that kind of thing; he’s dressed for comfort. He’s rough, hard, but there is something about him that I like—and I don’t even want to dissect that.
Boy, do I have bad taste in men? First Simon, now I’m lusting over a criminal. I should become celibate and join a nunnery.
But he is good looking, even under the bad boy appearance.
“Do you have another bag?”
“What?” I pull my attention from scanning the thick scruff of beard covering his jaw. It’s verging on wild and this close to me, I can see it has copper-flecks among the brown.
“A bag: do you have another? To put the food in,” he clarifies, speaking slowly, as if I’m not with it—which I’m not. I’m rattled having him in my space, and not just because my hormones are standing to attention. The man belongs to one of the most notorious biker gangs in the country, and he’s also at least five inches taller than I am. He’s bulky, in an athletic way, rather than a steroid way, but that means nothing; Simon wasn’t built but he could still overpower me. That in itself is enough to make me wary, although I do everything not to show it.
He’s not going to hurt you.
Breathe it out, Olivia.
“Oh. Yeah.” I move back to the car and find a spare shopping tote tucked away. When I turn back to the biker and hand him the bag I do it with a lot more confidence than I feel.
He takes it without a word, opening it up and gestures for me to hold it for him. I do so without question. Why? I don't know. I should run into my house and hide because this man is dangerous. His leather vest with the skull on the back, the tattoos, the swagger: everything about him exudes just how dangerous he is. Except, he's standing on my driveway, helping me to collect the remains of my scattered shopping.
Are bikers supposed to be helpful?
I stand silently as he puts each item into the open tote bag, unsure what to say.
“Your milk is fucked,” he tells me unnecessarily because I can see that, “but the rest should be salvageable.”
I stare at the river of white wending over the concrete. This means another trip to the supermarket, unless I can survive with black coffee for tonight.
“Crap,” I whisper.
He runs a hand over his beard, and I notice his tattoos span down his arms to the backs of his hands as well. His skin is covered with so many different designs that it’s difficult to take it all in, but I see he has the same insignia on the back of his leather vest tattooed on his left forearm. On his right wrist, just above the palm, the word ‘Karma’ is stamped. I don’t even want to think why he has that tattoo. What karma is he dealing out?
Realizing I’m staring—again—I pull my gaze back to his face, but he doesn’t notice my gawking because he’s focused on the milk spillage.
“It’s only milk,” I say. “No use crying over it, right?” 
Then his lips quirk and I forget he’s a dangerous criminal because my mouth is suddenly dry. It softens his entire demeanor and I suddenly want to see him smile every day.
“I guess not. I have some in the house, if you need it.”
I wonder when he was here to bring milk; this is definitely the first time I’ve seen signs of life at the house across the street.
“Do you want me to grab you some?” he continues.
As tempting as that is, I shake my head. “I think I’ll survive one evening without milk, but thank you.”
This is debatable but I’m not keen on being indebted to this man—even if it is only milk. It’s a ridiculous thought but my brain is completely frazzled right now. At least this is the excuse I’m giving myself.
He hands me the newly filled bag and I take it with murmured thanks, trying not to react as his fingers brush over the back of my hand. I can’t deny the way that feels. There is electricity between us—at least on my part, although I swear I see a slight widening of his eyes at our touch. Perhaps I imagined it because it’s gone so fast I can’t be sure it was there in the first place.
He sniffs then clears his throat and my cardiac muscle gets another workout as it beats faster.
“You just moved in?”
“Oh, yeah. Well, about three months ago.”
He blinks and then his brow pulls together. “Shit, really? Three months?”
I nod.
“I need to start coming to the house more.” He jerks a thumb in the direction of the property he disappeared into before. “I own number fifteen, but I spend most of my time at the clubhouse.”
The clubhouse. With the dangerous bikers where he is a member. This sobers me completely and brings me out of my fantasy. It doesn’t matter how nice he’s being, how polite, I need to bring this to an end. I do not need his kind of drama in my already drama-filled life.
“Thank you for your help, but I should get the food inside before it spoils.”
He studies me. Intently. I try not to squirm under that look. “I’ll help.”
“Oh, there’s no need.”
“I’ll help,” he repeats, as if I didn’t protest.
This annoys me, but I don’t have the chance to voice this because without invitation, he plucks the tote from my hands and reaches into the boot. He wraps a fist around the whole lot and pulls it out as if it weighs nothing, and without a word starts up the path to the front door.
My front door.
Crap!
I quickly reach for the boot, pulling the lid down and tug my handbag up my shoulder as I jog after him. His legs are longer than mine though and he eats up the space in a few steps. This means he’s waiting for me outside the porch when I reach him.
He lifts the bags slightly. “These are heavy, darlin’; do you want to open the door, so I can put them inside?”
I really don’t. It’s one thing him carrying my bags from the car to my front door, but him being inside my house... I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that at all. But I don’t want to be rude and I don’t want to upset the potentially dangerous biker with the cute face and overinflated sense of chivalry either.
I hesitate too long because his smile fades and his jaw tightens. I see the anger flash in his eyes as he realises why I’m hesitating. Muscle memory is a powerful thing because my brain doesn’t register it’s not Simon; all it registers is the perceived danger. To my mortification, I recoil back as if he struck me. My life with Simon may feel like a decade ago, but that primal instinct to protect myself is still the first thing to switch on when I meet someone new—someone I don’t yet know is safe.
His eyes narrow further. It’s like watching a train wreck in slow motion, and I can do nothing to stop the destruction.
There is a moment of silence that seems to span an era. It’s so quiet all I can hear is my own ragged breathing and his huffing.
Finally, he speaks.
“Christ, you try to fucking help someone and this is how they thank you?” He grinds the words between clenched teeth. Then he snorts and shakes his head. Not too gently, he dumps the bags on the ground and leans into me. I pull away from him, my back hitting the side of the storm porch as he gets into my space, all six-foot-plus of him. I have to raise my chin to meet his gaze, and I wish I didn’t because he looks hurt beneath the anger and for some reason that doesn’t sit right with me.
“For the record, I was just going to take your bags inside for you. I usually leave the raping and murdering for the weekend.”
He gives me the dirtiest look I’ve ever seen, turns on a booted heel and starts back up the path. I let my lungs finally reboot and draw in air when he reaches the end of the drive, and I’m filled with a new emotion. This one is abject embarrassment. He didn’t do anything wrong. All he did was try to be nice and I treated him like crap. Did I really think he was going to come into my house and hurt me?
I don’t know.
Old habits die hard.
Shit.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Jessica Ames was raised in a small market town in the Midlands, England. She lives with her crazy mongrel terrier and when she’s not writing she’s playing with crochet hooks. From the moment she was old enough to hold a pen she created fantastical stories and by the age of 17 had written her first full-length novel: a fantasy story about an exiled boy king. It was a clinched mess, but she realized she could, in fact, write and finish a book!
 
Knowing she needed to make money, she found work in the publishing world. Over the next decade, she honed her skills and worked hard to learn everything she could about writing. In January 2018, in a moment of insanity, she quit her job in magazine publishing to write books full time.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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text 2019-01-07 09:42
ESD-Safe Mats Market

The global ESDSafe Mats market is valued at million US$ in 2018 and will reach million US$ by the end of 2025, growing at a CAGR of during 20192025. The objectives of this study are to define, segment, and project the size of the ESDSafe Mats market based on company, product type, end user and key regions.

This report studies the global market size of ESDSafe Mats in key regions like North America, Europe, Asia Pacific, Central & South America and Middle East & Africa, focuses on the consumption of ESDSafe Mats in these regions.
This research report categorizes the global ESDSafe Mats market by top players/brands, region, type and end user. This report also studies the global ESDSafe Mats market status, competition landscape, market share, growth rate, future trends, market drivers, opportunities and challenges, sales channels and distributors.

The following manufacturers are covered in this report, with sales, revenue, market share for each company:
Desco SCS
RS Pro
COBA Europe
Hozan
ACL Staticide Inc
Bertech
Achilles Industrial Materials
Hakko
Superior Manufacturing Group
Ranco Industries
Cleansem
SDM Technologies
Shanghai Jiafu New Material Technology
Henyer Rubber
Zhejiang CONCO AntiStatic

Market size by Product
Vinyl ESDSafe Mats
Rubber ESDSafe Mats
PVC ESDSafe Mats
Other
Market size by End User
Table
Bench
Floor
Monitor
Other

Market size by Region
North America
United States
Canada
Mexico
AsiaPacific
China
India
Japan
South Korea
Australia
Indonesia
Singapore
Malaysia
Philippines
Thailand
Vietnam
Europe
Germany
France
UK
Italy
Spain
Russia
Central & South America
Brazil
Rest of Central & South America
Middle East & Africa
GCC Countries
Turkey
Egypt
South Africa

The study objectives of this report are:
To study and analyze the global ESDSafe Mats market size value & volume by company, key regions, products and end user, breakdown data from 2014 to 2018, and forecast to 2025.
To understand the structure of ESDSafe Mats market by identifying its various subsegments.
To share detailed information about the key factors influencing the growth of the market growth potential, opportunities, drivers, industryspecific challenges and risks.
Focuses on the key global ESDSafe Mats companies, to define, describe and analyze the sales volume, value, market share, market competition landscape and recent development.
To project the value and sales volume of ESDSafe Mats submarkets, with respect to key regions.
To analyze competitive developments such as expansions, agreements, new product launches, and acquisitions in the market.

In this study, the years considered to estimate the market size of ESDSafe Mats are as follows:
History Year: 20142018
Base Year: 2018
Estimated Year: 2019
Forecast Year 2019 to 2025

This report includes the estimation of market size for value million US$ and volume K sqm. Both topdown and bottomup approaches have been used to estimate and validate the market size of ESDSafe Mats market, to estimate the size of various other dependent submarkets in the overall market. Key players in the market have been identified through secondary research, and their market shares have been determined through primary and secondary research. All percentage shares, splits, and breakdowns have been determined using secondary sources and verified primary sources.

For the data information by region, company, type and application, 2018 is considered as the base year. Whenever data information was unavailable for the base year, the prior year has been considered.

Source: www.qandqmarketresearch.com
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review 2018-11-20 11:47
Interesting story line.
Play It Safe - Leslie North Play It Safe - Leslie North

Second in this series. This story has intrigue and an interesting story line. There are a couple of questioning story line items that needed to be explained. However, all in all a good and entertaining read. 

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review 2018-11-18 04:30
Good read.
In Safe Hands - Leslie North In Safe Hands - Leslie North
In Safe Hands (The Safe House Series Book 1) - Leslie North

This story has some serious twists and turns along with the steam. Had an idea who the villain was but not sure until close to the end of the book. Good read. 

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text 2018-11-06 02:35
Inseparable part of our life.

 

 

Thus, in both cases we would like to secure our possessions with great security, far from any kind of theft, burglary and damage. Home is that place where we all feel safe, where we all love to spend most of our time, where we all feel comfortable, where we all are at ease. As, we love members of our family same is with the case of our home. For more information on Secondary Glazing visit us online. The one who has built it with their hard earned money knows its value. Don’t need to go here and there when the product is calling you to get it installed from Diyplas. We love it as we love our family members.It is an inseparable part of our life.

On one hand, people take up options such as method of grilling for their safety in their homes which is less seen in offices. Thus, our office is also equally important in our life as our home. As, we know that no place is secured enough and there is no such place where we won’t find any burglars, thieves. Thus, don’t you think that we ourselves must be careful enough to protect our home? We must be careful enough right? So here is Security Glazing for our home which will take our tension in its shoulders.

But don’t you people think that it gives your sweet home a kind of prison like look? Of Course one is concerned for one’s safety but it is not that we need to pack our homes with bars. Once it is installed in your home you can move out freely without any worries.With the help of security glazing, not only you will be getting enough security but also you will be getting good look. Thus, we would want to make our home secure enough, want to protect it from those evil eyes eyeing with bad intention, right? Same is the case with the buildings where we are conducting our business. Though, glazing is considered the most susceptible and weak spot in any home of any corner of the city, for our business too and also the most communal way for an intruder to get access to our valuable property. It’s not only the building where we conduct our business but it is that building where we plan our meetings, where we conduct important meetings with our clients and even in our office there are lots of things that are of high value. . So, it is vital to act over it

 

 

 

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