About Merry Blissmas
What can I say? I’m not a nice person. When I walk by, people call me a slut, and I’m okay with that. I believe in calling a spade a spade. I am a slut.
With the holidays approaching, I miss belonging to The Last Riders. Drake’s keeping me warm, but he wants more than I can give. He wants me to trust him, to believe he can protect me. Doesn’t he know Santa put me on the Naughty List long ago?
What can I say? I’m a nice guy and have always done the responsible thing.
Bliss is everything I shouldn’t want, but it’s hard to resist a woman who stopped believing in miracles. She wants to be back with The Last Riders, whom she considers her true family. Doesn’t she know it’s Christmas, and miracles do happen?
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There was no such thing as home. It was a fictional word to describe a house, just like the people who lived in them calling themselves a family. As soon as trouble hit their door, however, they were quick to throw in the towel and toss it all away, exactly like she had.
Every single time she had begun to believe she had a home when she was younger, she would come home from school to find her meager possessions sitting outside a padlocked door and her mother explaining they had to find a new place to stay. What followed were weeks at homeless shelters until she could make enough money to rent them another small place.
It became normal to see a stranger taking her mother in a dark alley or the backseat of their car while she would patiently wait for her in whatever fast food restaurant was closest. She would eat her small hamburger and fries slowly so she wouldn’t get strange looks from people wondering why she was sitting by herself so long.
But she was older and wiser. She could find a place to sleep anywhere, but she would never put her belief in having the dream of a perfect home with a white picket fence.
Even being a member of The Last Riders hadn’t prevented her from losing the room she had thought of as hers. She had been able to share her bed or one of the brothers’ if she had wanted, but she had also had the option of closing the door and being left alone when she had wanted to curl up on her bed and watch television or read a book while knowing the other members would still be there when she opened the door.
She was on her own, though. Neither the men nor the women talked to her anymore. Bliss knew it was because of her own behavior, but it still fucking hurt. They could have stuck a knife in her stomach, and she would have remained loyal to them.
Her mom had always told her to obey the rules of whatever house they lived in, because it wasn’t their home and they could be thrown out. Her mother had been right.
She had learned a lot of hard lessons in her life, but leaving The Last Riders had been the hardest of all.